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noemilivv · 1 year ago

Note

hi, I hope you’re having a good day, I’d love to leave a request for Hazbin Hotel.

Could I request Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, Vox and Lucifer (feel free not to do them all if they’re too many) and how they would react when their s/o finds them crying and comforts them and gives them a hug? I’d love some reverse comfort for them they’re my favs, also gn reader pls!

hello!! i’m having a good day, i hope you are as well!! this was a very interesting concept to think about, especially for alastor haha, it may be a bit out of character but i tried my best lol

Warnings: Potentially OOC Alastor, S1 Finale Spoilers, Swear Words, Mentions of Valentino, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Mentions of Injury (Scars, Bruises, Blood, Ect), Mentions of Depression, Mentions of Sex (No Smut)

Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, Vox x Reader (Reverse Comfort)

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t one to express much emotion - other than his signature smile, let alone cry, but you caught him - even if it was barely

He felt like he was on the edge of pure insanity and psychotic, and he, the almighty Radio Demon, would’ve never expected something so little to give him his final push

After the fight between Adam and Alastor, he had lost his cane, his cane gave him almost every ounce of power and control his soul had gained since entering Hell, and he was going insane without it

You watched Alastor silently drift away from the crowded hotel lobby after Lucifer made some petty comment about losing his staff.

Despite that small part of you trying to convince you against it, you followed him.

You trickled behind him slowly to his room, all the way on the other side of the hotel.

He left his door open a crack, and you opened it slightly and stood in the doorway, and there he was.

Alastor’s usually neat and tidy hotel room was now a disaster with blueprints on the floor, you took a glance at them, some looking relatively old and some looked quite fresh, they were sketches and plans for a new staff - although you knew Alastor no longer had the magic the make it.

You hid as he came into your view, he was pacing the room, a very strained smile present on his face as tears pricked in his eyes, as he ran his fingers through his hair, tossing around blueprints and plans and other papers that seemed to be plans for a new staff, searching for a solution to his despair.

Slowly, you approached Alastor, patting him on the back softly before retracting your hand, remembering he doesn’t like to be touched.

He shook his head and sighed, the same drained smile was still present on his face, he looked down at you, and you never noticed the bags under his eyes until now… I mean, you knew he wasn’t one to typically sleep, but he never had bags before…

“I’m sorry, my dear.” He said, fixing his posture, and straightening up his suit. “One might say I’m a bit distraught at the moment. What is it you need?”

“Well.. uh, Al, you looked a bit sad recently, especially after what Lucifer said about your cane, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You said, providing a bashful smile, at the fact that you’d be caught snooping.

“Ah, well, how awfully kind of you, my little doe. Just know, that I’m doing quite alright-” Before Alastor could finish his sentence you engulfed him in a hug, he paused for a moment, before slowly wrapping his arms around the small of your back.

His face was in the crook of your neck, as he sighed, you couldn’t see his face, but you could feel him give a soft smile onto your neck, not a grin, but a smile.

Angel Dust

You knew Angel’s job at the studio was far from easy, and shifts could last several hours at a time, but now? You were starting to worry…

He hadn’t been home in nearly two days. And it was starting to freak you out.

You sat in Angel’s bed in the hotel, snuggled next to Fat Nuggets, he let out a small snort as you cradled him in your arms. “I miss him too, baby.” You muttered, kissing his forehead, tearing up at the thought of all possibilities of what could’ve happened to him.

“Papa will be back home soon.” You nearly whispered, your voice cracking softly, you just wanted to see your boyfriend. The movie that was on in the background began to fade away as you fell to sleep.

You woke up again at about 1am from a slam of the bathroom door that was connected to Angel’s room. You blinked your eyes a few times, groggily, not entirely aware of what was going on until you heard sobbing coming from the bathroom.

You rushed the warm, pink comforter off of you, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed asleep, urgently swinging open the bathroom door, finding Angel wailing, clinging onto the sink, halfway on the floor.

His shirt was off, and a few bruises and scars were visible. He let go of the sink, and slid down the floor, cradling his body.

“Handsome, shit..” You murmured, kneeling down to his level, you put a comforting hand on his knee. “Baby, look at me.”

You requested softly, now using your hand to comb through Angel’s hair, when you didn’t get a response, you used your free hand to tilt his face up to you, and the sight broke you.

His eyes stared into yours, afraid and hurt, there was smeared eyeliner under his eyes that traveled a bit down his face, there was blood coming from his mouth.

You felt tears prick in your eyes, you hated seeing him like this, “My love, can I hold you?”

Angel nodded as his body fell into your arms, you rocked him slowly, shushing his sobs, turning them into a small sniffles.

You pulled away from him to look at him, you wiped the smudged makeup off his face with your thumb, and looked at him. “Wanna talk about it, Angie?”

“You already know the deal by now, it’s just Val..” He said, wiping his eyes, hiccuping before continuing, “I had a rough week, and I wasn’t off-script, and he just said to improv it, and I just fucked it up.. and he, well..” He gestured to the bruises and scars on his body, referencing what happened, giving a dry chuckle, you tensed above him.

“Baby.” You started, cupping his cheeks, pulling him to look at you, “I don’t know how yet, but I will fucking get you out of this, I don’t care who or what I have to go through, but I will fucking get you out of this. No one gets to hurt you and expect to get away with it.” You vowed, as your foreheads connected,

“Sugar, there’s no way out.” Angel murmured. “He’ll find me..” He said barely above a whisper, his voice cracking in fear, your heart ached for him.

“I’ll figure it out, handsome.” You said, pecking his forehead, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Lucifer

You’ve known since before you even started dating that Lucifer had depression, and you knew it hit hard, but you had never really been around to experience that before.

Whenever you could, you always tried to help him out with it, which was a bit hard since he had a tendency to brush it off a lot

It wasn’t until you came home to Luci having a depressive episode where you really got a grip on his depression

You came back to you and Lucifer’s shared home, you had just gotten out of work, and Lucifer was supposed to be at a meeting, key word, supposed to.

As you walked down the hall you heard sniffles coming from your shared bedroom.

You opened the door, it let out a small creak, and you noticed Lucifer curled up on the end of the bed.

There were tissues scattered on the floor on his side of the bed and on his night stand, his clothes that he would’ve worn to his meeting were in a messy pile on the floor, he was in boxers and no shirt, his hair messy, as he sniffled into the pillows, curled up in a thin but fuzzy duck blanket.

“Sweetie, what happened?” You asked sweetly, sitting down next to him at the edge of the bed, rubbing his scalp.

“I-I was gonna go to my m-meeting today, but when I went to get out of bed everything it just felt like I couldn’t do it.. and I started spiraling and I called Charlie and told her to go instead..” Luci explained through sniffles, clutching the blanket closer to his chest.

“Aww, darling.” You cooed lovingly, caressing his cheek, “How about this; I go run a nice, hot bath for the two of us, and then we can cuddle and take a nap, and then try to clean everything up. You can even bring in a few ducks if you want.” Lucifer perked up at your offer, nodding eagerly.

“Okay.” You smiled, chuckling softly, “Just keep your pretty little self here while I go run the water.” You said, getting up to leave, but you turned around as you got to the doorway. “Bubbles or no bubbles?” You asked with a knowing smile.

“…Bubbles, please.”

Velvette had sent you off to go check on Vox, normally he comes out of his security room to check on either her or Valentino, or you, and surprisingly he hadn’t today

You worked for the Vee’s but you were also friends, you were important enough to be basically considered an honorary Vee member, but you were unimportant enough to be cut from big social events and have a fair amount of work dumped on you last minute — And you were an assistant (as well as partner) to Vox

You knocked on the door to Vox’s office room, when no response came from the other side you slowly opened the door, and you saw a very stressed Vox.

His screen was in his hands, letting out small sniffles, but he would glitch here and there as the watery tears shocked his chords.

“Baby, you good?” You asked, standing behind him.

He whipped around, scrambling to wipe away any remaining tears, “Oh- Uh- Yeah- I’m fine.” He muttered, turning back around.

“Were you crying?” You asked, hesitantly, you’d never seen him cry before, other than sex, you both had only been together a few months.

“What? No! I don’t do that shit.” He scoffed, it was clear he was getting defensive, he didn’t like to be caught like this, but he’d rather it be you than someone else.

“Vox…” You pushed, maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did anyway. “Fine. Rough day, okay? Work is stressful as fuck.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, “Do you wanna lay down? Maybe take a nap? And you come back in an hour or two?” You suggested softly, Vox could be stubborn as hell at times, and you weren’t trying to push your luck.

Vox hesitates momentarily, before muttering a small, “I guess…”

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messenger-of-babel · 4 months ago

Text

Happy New Year

Summary: Hal reflects on all the ways he could have kept you around for another New Years. (Hal Jordan x fem!reader)

Word Count: 3.0K

Notes: brief mention of injuries, mild language, a soft spot for Hal Jordan.

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Your favourite tradition with Hal had always been the New Year. He'd come back and whisk you away with that signature grin, leather jacket on his shoulders while he offered you his arm. The same arms that wrapped themselves tight around your waist as he grinned down at you, crafted smirk on his lips as he counted down with the crowd at whatever party in Coast City, Gotham, or Metropolis that he had somehow managed to get the exclusive invite to. Then he'd kiss you breathless, pulling away only to whisper, "Happy New year," against your lips before greedily taking another kiss.

It had been Hal’s favourite activity too. He couldn't explain the rush he got picking you up from your apartment, seeing you smile at him. When it came to pestering the other members of the Justice League for tickets to their city events, he started a month ahead to really wear them down until they agreed (however he always started two months early in order to get tickets to Bruce’s New Year Gala). He didn’t care if he became a pest at the watchtower, there was nothing better than seeing you all dressed up on that front step, smiling at him like he had just brought you the sun (which he would if he could).

You meant the world to Hal Jordan, which is why it felt like his was tearing apart right now. There was a persistent ache in his chest, and a sharpness of breath every time he swallowed. The crook of his arm felt light, and his back was unusually straight without you jumping on him from behind. He was on Gotham for business, dreary and depressing as usual. The clock tower loomed in front of him, except this time there wasn’t a crowd counting down, or a kiss waiting on the other end.

Ten.

“You’re late.” You had said to him as he raced into the restaurant, hair combed with only his fingers and suit jacket thrown over his arm. He tried to give you a charming smile to make up for it, but he could see from the frown on your face you weren’t buying it.

“Only by ten minutes, got caught at work.” He had said, arm coming to circle your waist, which you shook off. He hadn’t been lying, he had gotten called to Oa for an emergency. However he didn’t particularly feel like revealing that he was in fact the local superhero, the Green Lantern, on your anniversary dinner. Or the fact that he was late because of a potential threat to some Lanterns stationed in deep space.

“Not ten, twice that.” You snapped. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. “You’re still in the waiting area, I clearly wasn’t that late.”

“It's because we lost our reservation, Hal.” You murmur, brushing past him and refusing to meet his eyes as you storm out the restaurant.

“Shit.” He hisses under his teeth as he watches you leave, before turning to follow you. He offers a small wave to the onlookers from nearby tables, privy to the whole argument, and nods apologetically as if he hadn’t screwed up his anniversary.

Nine.

“Nine weeks?” You ask, peering up at him with eyebrows furrowed. “You’re going to be gone for nine weeks?”

Hal bites the inside of his cheek, cursing as the frown settled across your face. He nods, “Yeah, sorry babe,” and he winces, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. It was times like this he wishes he could tell you everything, let you know it wasn’t his fault. That he was doing this for you, so that you could be safe back on earth. He wanted to show you had badly he wanted to stay with you, to sleep in on Saturdays and watch dogs in the park from your bedroom window. To make you a coffee before you went to work, and kiss you on the cheek before he left for his.

You just sigh, flipping through the calendar splayed out on the kitchen counter. “You miss my birthday you know.” You say quietly, head in your hand.

“Yeah I saw.” He replies, lump in his throat. “I’m really sorry, babe. It’s just work-“ he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. “You know I’d stay if I could, right? I wouldn’t go if there wasn’t any other choice. I love you, you know that.” He says softly.

Silence.

That was the first time in your entire relationship you hadn’t said it back. He watched as you chewed at your lip, and he could see your eyes mist up slightly. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest, and his mouth went dry, not knowing what to say. He knew he should stay in the kitchen with you, to talk it out, but he couldn’t.

Muscles heavy with shame he turned from the kitchen, heading back into your shared bedroom to continue packing. Maybe things would have been different if he hadn’t been a coward.

Eight.

There were eight missed calls on his phone when he checked, all from your phone and minutes after the other. He cringed, finger hovering over the button to call back, before it slid to click the phone screen off instead and he pocketed it.

“No personal business on the job.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder to catch the gaze of Batman who was busying himself with an array of computers. They’d set themselves up on the rooftop of a Metropolis skyscraper, monitoring transmissions from the adjacent LexCorp building. Hal stepped away from the edge he had been standing near, observing the chaos in the streets below, turning to face the black clad man.

“I know that.” He scoffed, green mask crinkling in annoyance.

“You accept any call here and Luthor could be made aware of our position.”

“I said I know,” Hal snapped back, shoulder blades rising. “I didn’t take the calls.”

Hal sighs, feeling the phone vibrate in his pocket again. “It’s just…my girl. She’s worried is all. I said I was here for work. She’s probably losing her mind.” He confesses quietly. The weight sits uncomfortably in his chest, and his ego bruises slightly confiding in Batman of all people. Yet he can’t stop the words coming out to the silent vigilante.

The man in question just sends him a side eyed glance, face stern but doesn’t tell him off. “We’ve been going through a hard patch. Just busy with work, you know? And we’ve been able to go out less and it’s just putting a bit of a strain on us. Not really her fault, it’s mine if anything.”

He signs and pinches the bridge of his nose as if to alleviate the oncoming headache. Batman just regards him silently, the white slits of his mask narrowing. Eventually he gives a grunt, turning back to his computers. “You can call her when it’s all over.” He says gruffly, making Hal sigh.

You were definitely going to kill him when he gets back.

Seven. Six. Five.

He punched in 765, the code to your gated apartment building, only to be met with a red light and a buzzer sound. With a groan he hit his head on the cool metal of the grate, fingers coming up to find the button for the intercom. Typing in your shared apartment number and he waited as the dial tone began. It rung four times, making Hal worry, before you finally picked up and the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Hey doll, the code isn’t working,” he starts, aligning himself in front of the small camera so you can see him. “Can’t get in.”

He can hear your sign on the other side. “Codes change every month Hal,” you remind, the flicker of irritation in your voice not going unnoticed. “Changed up last week.”

He rustles the flowers in his hand, crumpled from being pressed against his chest for so long. “I was kind of busy, work kept me occupied.” He says, trying to be suave but the nervous smile on his face still lingers. The door buzzes again and the light turns green, metal creaking as it slides to let him in.

“It always does.” You say, voice flat until the static tone of the intercom cuts.

Four.

He had four more drinks that he should have, going out to celebrate with old drinking buddies as one of his old, non-hero friends got hitched. The bachelor party had been a blur of sounds and colours after a while, and for a few pressing moments he had to remind himself that he wasn’t the bachelor anymore, he had someone waiting for him at home. The very same person he hurt as he stumbled in inebriated through the front door, tie loose and hair mussed. He could see the hurt flicker in your eyes as you took in the smear of dark lipstick against his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth.

“Have fun?” You ask, crossing your arms. He thinks you’re beautiful even when you’re angry at him. He can see it in the way you dig your fingers into your arms, the slight quiver of your lips as you hold yourself back. He just nods in return, world spinning as he does. “A lotta fun,” he slurs, blinking away the lights dancing in front of him, tempting him to collapse onto the wooden floor. “A lotta pretty ones…” he snickers to himself, and your body freezes. If he was sober he’d backtrack faster than Barry could run, explain that the whole night he kept himself in check, that he actually came to his senses and denied everyone that threw themselves his way because they weren’t you. That you were the prettiest person he knew, that he didn't really mean to make such a comment.

But he doesn’t. He stumbles to the couch and collapses into its groaning arms while you regard him from the doorframe with a scoff.

“You’re pathetic Hal Jordan.” You spit at him, but he can hear the hurt in your voice. If he was a better man he’d chase after the shadow of your retreating form, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t know if he deserves to.

Three.

Hal Jordan had three things that he valued in his life. There was his work, of course, with the justice league and as a Lantern. There were the people of his city, his home, who had already endured so much, and then there was you. From the first time that he saw you, he knew everything was about to change for him, and he could only hope that it would be for the better. He wasn’t so sure what to call it now.

He had never expected things to get so messy.

Fires littered the streets of Coast City like pockmarks as he soared overhead, a threat too big for him to handle alone striking his city. Ever since it was rebuilt it had attracted all sorts of crazies, at a frequency that called him in more often than he’d like. Biting down his pride he had called the League. Was it sometimes overkill? Yes. Was Supes beginning to get worried about his ability to defend his city? Most certainly.

But he couldn’t risk the city being destroyed again. Not when you lived here now.

His heart fell through his chest coming to the rubble of your apartment building. Touching down he leaped across the bricks and warped metal, courtyard strewn with personal belongings. Some of them he recognised, such as the framed art piece he got on sale that you hated but hung anyways, the glass now shattered and frame broken. Many were from other tenants, remnants of their lives now pinned under stone and steel. The paramedics had corralled as many people as they could off to the side of the road, blankets wrapped around shivering shoulders.

That’s where he beelined for next, relief quickly filling his veins as he sees you on a medical stretcher, bruised and scraped, but alive. You make eye contact with him, offering him a faint smile as he approaches.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, wishing more than anything he was out of the suit right now. To be Hal Jordan, the worried boyfriend. You nod, smile flickering weakly at the corners of your mouth. “I’m fine.” You say back hoarsely, hugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I’m just waiting for someone.” You say, eyes flicking to the shattered phone screen beside you on the stretcher.

He feels guilt gnaw at him like a rat in his ribcage, and his own smile is tight in return. “I’m sure whoever you’re waiting for is worried to hell and will be here any moment.” He tries to sound calm, as if he isn’t going to wrap the whole battle up just so he can make good on that promise. You let out a dry laugh, not the kind that you’d let when he’d surprise you in the kitchen, or when he’d spin you around while strolling in the park.

“I won’t count on it.” You say, trying your best to stay calm. “Thank you for coming to check on us, for caring.” You say softly, giving him a warm smile that goes straight to his heart. Since you’d been having a rocky time he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled like that for him.

“No problem,” he said, voice caught in his throat. “Stay safe.”

As he walked away to talk to the paramedics to increase the range they should check for survivors, his heart fell painfully into his stomach. If only you knew how much he cared.

Two.

There had always been the two of you, against the world. That’s what Hal thought at the dinner of your first month anniversary together. However, that feeling was nothing more than a memory as he came home, late as usual, to the spare bedroom where he had been banished the past week. It was a new apartment, in a neighbourhood that you had been reluctant to move into but he had insisted it had the best safety. He knew he had done this to himself, but it did nothing to quell the ache he had in his chest that craved to have you close.

As he passed the ajar door of your once shared bedroom, he cant help but let out a small sigh, eyes cast back down to the floor as he wills himself to walk past. He’d been sleeping there shortly after the last city attack, where despite his best efforts he only got back to you in plain clothes two hours after the paramedics had let you go. He should have had the conversation with you about him, his work, but he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

He was losing you; he knew that. Hell, everyone knew that, even the Bat. He’d seen the side glances cast to him in meetings, obscured behind the overly sympathetic (and not very concealed) gazes of Superman and Flash. He hated the pity, feeling like everyone was watching him lose the one thing he managed to both treasure and isolate the most.

As he dropped his bags on the bed he changed out of his suit. He knew it was dangerous to come home in the suit in case you found out, but there was just some small quiet part of him that hoped you might. That you might have stayed up, worried about him cheating or some equally heartbreaking scenario, and catch him coming home. Then he wouldn’t have to have the conversation itself and the cards would be on the table instead of him having to place them there. He knew that’s what it would take to have even a chance of keeping you.

Changed into a loose shirt for sleeping he crawls into the cold sheets of the guest bed, fiddling with his ring. Not for the first time, he thought of how you deserved any other ring that this cursed green one in your life.

One.

When he came home there was nothing of yours left. Clothes gone from the closet, books taken off the shelves. Nothing to indicate you had ever been a part of his life, just a single piece of paper on the kitchen counter. His heart had dropped to his floor and his knees wanted to buckle, despite having prepared and resigned to this moment mentally for weeks. He traced the faint curves of your handwriting, ghosting his fingers over the swells of your vowels.

You had left a pros and cons list, separated into two columns on the yellow grid paper by a thick black marker. In the cons you had written things like, ‘stays back late at work all the time, forgot anniversary, doesn’t pick up when I’m worried, comes home late’, and the worst one in his eyes, ‘cheating?’ surrounded by many scrawled question marks.

His eyes fluttered over to the pro’s column, unable to look at the hole he dug himself any longer. In more delicate handwriting you had delicately listed only one thing.

One, single thing.

I love him.

Now, Hal stared up at the clock face of Gotham, hands shoved into jacket pockets as he waited to meet Bruce. He waited on a park bench nearby, standing up when he saw the looming figure of the billionaire begin to approach him.

He hoped that no matter wherever you had taken yourself, whatever you had decided to do when you moved on, that you could hear the way his arms ached with your absence, and the way he faltered to say your name.

Happy New Year.

#hal jordan #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan green lantern #dc x reader #dc #dc comics #dc fanfic #angstober24 #angstober 2024 #dc x you #green lantern x reader #day 02 #day 2 #angst #green lantern angst #hal jordan angst

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cherryredstars · 5 months ago

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Pls pls pls miss Cherry I need other parts of Ribbons. I need a pt.3 cause I love that au. Something very fluffy super cute and introspective you know? I NEED IT thank you so much 🍒🎀

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Suggestive, Hinted Intercourse, Talk of Past Intercourse, Fluff

Summary: They're well past the first date thing... right?

A/N: I missed them.

Unedited

Part 1 Part 2

You are not hearing him right.

You push yourself up, hand pressing into his naked chest as his arm and sheets fall off your bare body. His eyes momentarily drop to the soft skin that is revealed to him once again, pupils dilating. His eyes do a lousy job of running up your figure, getting stuck in different areas a bit longer than necessary. His eyes stare up at yours when you start talking.

"You know we've like... had sex before, right?"

Miguel doesn't need the reminder, his eyes falling back to your bare body, your taste and scent still fogging his brain. He won't ever forget that he's had such an honor. Multiple times.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

You give him an exasperated look, laying back down. Your hair fans over his shoulder, tickling the base of his neck. His arms wrap around you quickly, suffocating you in his body heat. His eyes shut as he breathes you in, a perfect combination of his cologne and your perfume. You turn to face him, wrapping your arms lazily around his shoulders and he peppers kisses along your naked shoulders.

"I think we're well past the whole going on a first date thing."

Miguel's brows furrow, and he stops his trails of small worship to look at your face. You try to soothe the wrinkles with your fingers, but he stubbornly holds firm.

"Who said?"

You roll your eyes playfully, a wave of deja vu hitting you. You smile gently at him, gently brushing his hair out of his face. It effectively smooths out his features, dissipating the bunched skin at his brow.

"Says my pair of panties you tried to hide before I walked into your room."

Miguel blushes, forcing his head back into the crook of your neck. He tries to distract you with small kisses and nips to your skin, but you only giggle.

"First off, I have no idea what you're talking about." He muffles against your skin, the burning of his skin revealing his lie. "And second, that doesn't mean I can't take my girl out somewhere nice."

You ignore the stampede of butterflies in your stomach, biting your lip to contain your smile. You slightly tug at his hair, pulling his face away from your neck. You peer down at him, placing a small kiss to the apple of his burning cheek.

"Do you even know how to plan a date?"

Miguel scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

"Of course I do, I've had this planned for months."

You raise your brow, smiling wide.

"Months? We've only been a thing for like 3 weeks."

Miguel's cheeks burn once again, embarrassed about his slip-up. He rolls onto his back, throwing his arm over his face to hide how flustered you're making him.

"It's an exaggeration!"

You laugh, moving to lay on your stomach as you rest your chin on his chest. Miguel moves his arm just slightly to peer down at you, breath stalling at the pretty smile you're giving him.

"Yeah, sure it was." You tease, giving his chest a small kiss in an effort to calm him down. "But, I guess we can go on a little date."

Miguel gives you his signature lopsided smirk, tilting his head to give you a slow kiss. You reciprocate easily, humming against his lips before he flips you over. You giggle in between the kiss, smiling.

"Then you have yourself a date."

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, reapplying your lip gloss.

You pucker your lips, leaning back and examining the final look. You hum in consideration, feeling that something is off. You lean further back, eyes squinting before they drop to your bare neck. You go to your dresser, quickly clasping the necklace you were gifted by a certain boy around your neck. You return to your mirror, nodding in approval right before your phone lights up.

You smile as you pick it up, holding it between your ear and shoulder as you grab your purse, back tracking to put in your lip gloss and spray yourself with your signature perfume.

"Bring a vase."

You pause, being met without a proper greeting.

"Hi! I am doing fantastic today. Thank you for asking!"

You can hear Miguel's chuckle, dark and slightly distorted over the speaker. You smile at the sound, setting your perfume down and looking around your room for a vase.

"Hi, pretty. How was your day?"

You smile wider, tone turning soft with affection.

"It was good, are you here? Why do I need a vase?"

"Just pulling up outside." Miguel speaks, the subtle sound of his gearshift moving following his words. "It's a surprise."

"Well," You huff, looking at the decorative vases you don't want to sacrifice for his mystery. "I don't have one."

You can hear his eye roll through the phone as he huffs.

"Yes you do. I promise it's not going to end up broken or something."

You groan, begrudgingly taking a ceramic vase and pressing it to your body, "That's it?"

Miguel hums on the other side of the phone, reassuring you none of your other precious decorations are necessary for what he has in mind. You quickly hang up, making your way outside of your building to find his car waiting for you out front. Miguel smiles as he sees you, taking the vase from your hands and tilting your chin up for a quick kiss before opening the door for you. You smile gratefully, sitting and buckling in before gently taking your vase back from him. He makes his way to his own door, getting in and beginning the drive to your date.

"So," you start, turning to look at him. "Where you taking me?"

Miguel smiles slightly, looking at you slightly before turning back to the road. "I told you it's a surprise."

You huff, lips pouting. Miguel chuckles at you, turning to look at you at a red light and kissing your pout away.

"Cheer up, you'll find out soon."

When that doesn't work, he gives you another kiss, pulling away and giving you that jaw-dropping smile before turning back to the road.

"Look stunning tonight, princesa."

Your pout, instantly drops, being replaced with a bashful smile as your eyes drop to the dress you picked out. Your hands gently smooth it out, a small thank you being mumbled from your lips. Miguel simply smiles to himself, grabbing your hand and holding it in your lap for the rest of the drive.

When he finally stops the car, you look out to see a small store. From the display windows, you can see mannequins dressed in the frilly dresses you love, soft stuffed animals adding to the cuteness. You don't realize Miguel has gotten out of the car until he opens your door, taking the vase from you as he unbuckles your seatbelt.

"You don't need this."

You furrow your brows, taking the hand he offers as he guides you out of the car.

"But you said-"

"I lied." He cuts off, smiling as he places it safely in his backseat.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief at him, holding his hand as the two of you walk toward the entrance. He pulls the door open for you, and you step inside. You instantly forget the slight annoyance you had, eyes widening as you look around. The store is a bit larger than what the front of the store suggested, the shelves stocked with things plucked straight out of Pinterest. There is a wide range of clothes and decor, your eyes spotting a section dedicated to aesthetic toys.

Miguel comes up behind you, hands squeezing your waist as he bends down to your ear. His warm breath fans over your skin, and you turn your head to face him.

"Not really your style, huh?"

You smile, pushing his face away once you spot his shit-eating grin. He's obviously pleased with himself, and you instantly pull him back towards you as you walk deeper into the store of your dreams.

"Where did you even find this place?"

Miguel shrugs behind you, revealing nothing as he watches you. He can't wipe the small smile off of his face as you scan the shelves, your pupils wide as you take in everything. You gush over anything you see, excitedly turning to show Miguel the precious gems you find. He spends the whole day like this, following and encouraging you to add what you like to the cart.

Though, he does steer you away from the Sonny Angels. He doesn't want you to buy repeats of what he already has waiting for you in the backseat of his car. He only hopes the flowers he bought haven't begun to wilt while you shop.

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anton-luvr · 1 year ago

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hii could u write abt how riize would react to you avoiding their kisses as a prank? like the tiktok challenge! tysm i love ur writing!!

# WHEN YOU AVOID THEIR KISSES ; 7riize.

⚝ bf!riize x gn!reader | fluff | bf au, prank au ⚝ note ; this is perhaps my favorite request... tysm for requesting anon!!! hope u like it and thank u <3

# SHOTARO. - the smile on his face instantly falters. he freezes for a while, trying to process what just happened. softly, he'll mumble "why'd you move away? come back here :(" and tugs you back by your arm so he can kiss you. once you burst laughing and tell him it's just a prank, his signature smile is back on his face as he kisses you.

# EUNSEOK. - petty mode: activated. the moment you dodge his kiss, he'll go "oh so you don't wanna kiss me? okay, fine don't kiss me then" and he'll saunter away with a scoff. when you run after him to tell him it's just a prank, he'll huff and fold his arms, grumbling about how "it's not funny". but once you kiss him, all pettiness melts away and he attacks you with tickles to make you promise not to do that again.

# SUNGCHAN. - he'll be in absolute disbelief. like did you just turn away??? from his kiss????? when you ask for them almost 24/7?????????? he instantly knows there's something up, and he'll chase after you to kiss you, your laughter echoing across your apartment. when he finally catches up to you on the sofa, he'll pin you down and smother you in kisses till you're breathless and your stomach hurts from laughing.

# WONBIN. - bro is confused™. he's oblivious at first, and he'll ask you if he has something on his face. but when you shake your head no and move away from him when he tries to kiss you again, he gets even more confused. he'll whine a "then why won't you let me kiss you?", and you can't help but laugh and give in to your lovely boyfriend.

# SEUNGHAN. - he instantly thinks he did something wrong, because you've never declined his kisses before. he'll apologize so so so gently, voice full of so much love and care for you. he didn't even do anything wrong but it's so sweet, and you kiss him and tell him it's all just a prank with a smile. he doesn't even care about it, because "as long as i still get to kiss you at the end of the day, i don't mind."

# SOHEE. - you have officially left him #heartbrocken. like the drama queen he is, he'll gasp and screech "do you not love me anymore?" before clutching at his supposedly wounded heart. even when you laugh at him, he keeps the act up. "are you laughing at my suffering?!" he wails, groaning in false pain. needs plenty of kisses and cuddles for the drama to go away after you tell him it's only a prank.

# ANTON. - he wants the ground to open up and eat him alive. he gets sooooo embarrassed and will literally turn and run away from you to hide himself, face bright red. when you stop him to tell him it's just a prank, he gets even more embarrassed. he'll whine a "not funny, don't do it again." while he hugs you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart (drop an ask to be added to my taglist!)

#sarah's 400 ! ☆#riize #riize fics #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize anton #riize sohee #riize seunghan #riize eunseok #riize wonbin #riize sungchan #riize shotaro

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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Yandere! Edward Scissorhands x Reader

On her quest to make at least one sale for the day, Avon lady Peg cautiously steps into the eerie mansion of a known inventor. She soon learns that it has long been devoid of life, with the exception of Edward, a synthetic human creation left unfinished. She returns to the bright suburbs accompanied by the poor young man, earning the curious stares of the bystanders. Among the colorful houses, however, Edward spots a gloomy dwelling that the neighbors seem to avoid. Who is the mysterious occupant?

Winner of the Halloween Poll! A short gothic romance in the style of Tim Burton, where two outsiders find solace in each other.

[Horror Masterlist]

The light yellow car slows down as it reaches the driveway and the engine stops. Peg makes her way out and hurries over to the passenger side, keys dangling between her fingers. She helps Edward out once she sees him awkwardly shuffling in the seat, unsure of his next step.

"You'll love it here. I just know it."

The woman hastily closes the door behind the tall, peculiar visitor. She places a gentle hand on his back and guides him down the asphalted path.

Edward's gaze briefly wanders further into the street. The houses are slithering along neatly, their vivid colors somewhat tiring to his unaccustomed eyes. Yet one of them sticks out. Strangely enough, it reminds him of home. A rusty iron fence surrounds the property, and patches of lush, unkempt vegetation creep through the bars. The walls are dark and crooked and the black tiled roof casts a shadow over the entire abode.

"Who lives there?" The question escapes his lips almost unconsciously.

Peg follows his gaze, eager to introduce the area to him. Once she settles on the source of his inquiry, her smile falters for a second.

"Oh, my. That's, well..." she lets out a forced laugh and encourages him to continue walking. "I'm glad you're already so curious, Edward dear. You'll get to know everyone soon, don't worry about it."

One more push and the guest has securely entered the house. As she prepares to twist the knob into a lock, she peeks out for the last time, surveying the surroundings with mild worry. A neighbor is walking their dog, whistling in the distance. As they approach the mysterious building, the animal begins to bark and the owner scurries to the other side of the street.

"He's so...strange!" one housewife exclaims, sipping on her lemonade.

Joyce is biting the temple tips of her sunglasses as she carefully inspects the dark haired man, currently using his sharp, spear fingers as barbecue skewers. She's batting her long eyelashes, entranced. She does like her men on the enigmatic side. In fact, she might just have a word with him. She folds the sunglasses and hangs them by the collar of her low-cut blouse. Of course, she doesn't forget her famous ambrosia salad as she departs from the rest of the fidgeting women.

"Ed, darling. You must try out my signature dish!" she daintily holds up a spoon and attempts to feed the pale newcomer.

He cautiously opens his mouth, unsure of how else to respond to the gesture. He tries to find Peg within the crowd, hoping she'll give him a new task away from this uncomfortably touchy person. And as luck would have it, his savior has come to the rescue. Peg doesn't hesitate to pull Edward away, cheerfully mumbling a domestic excuse.

Once freed from the shackles of awkward social interactions, the man tiptoes his way out of the yard and down the street. He doesn't like the constant murmur of people talking. He doesn't understand the jokes, the loud laughs, the complicit slaps on the back. He feels as if he's on the other side of a glass window, separated from an audience demanding cooperation despite him only being able to discern muffled, discontinued meaning.

None of this was mentioned in the Etiquette book. Or perhaps it has always been there, and the Inventor never got to the specific chapter. Died lamentably before he could explain how one navigates neighborhood BBQ parties.

Edward's step is clumsy and he doesn't have a particular direction in mind. In his scattered daze he nearly trips over something and turns around apologetically. You're sitting on the ground, resting against the fence. The book you were reading is now thrown aside, as you're too busy massaging the ankle that just got kicked by the sudden intruder. You look up, ready to scold the responsible airhead, but your eyes stop on an eccentric feature that catches your attention.

"What happened to your hands?"

You're a little embarrassed by your unexpected, tactless curiosity. The man seems entirely unfazed, however.

"They weren't finished. I'm incomplete."

"Hmm. Isn't everyone?"

Edward considers the question and recalls the people he's met so far. Peg and her husband. Joyce. The children.

"But they don't look unfinished. They have all the body parts."

You chuckle slightly at the literal observation.

"Well, you can't check them on the inside, can you? Most people have missing parts. Or broken ones."

"Where would you get it fixed, then?" Edward is startled by this new discovery.

"You learn to fix it yourself. Otherwise it just stays like that, maybe forever."

He lifts his hands and stares at them. Is he going to be like this forever, too? He hasn't pondered the concept of time much before Peg had found him. Yet now, 'forever' feels unsettling.

"Do your hands bother you that much?"

Edward doesn't know how to reply. He wishes he could resemble everyone else, that much is true. Then people wouldn't stare. And they wouldn't be afraid. As he mulls over the right words, he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings. It's the house he noticed earlier, when he first arrived here. Which means...

He examines the person before him. They, too, look complete. So why?

"Why does everyone avoid this place?" He remembers the gathering he just left. "You weren't at the neighborhood party either. I thought all neighbors will show up."

"I was never invited."

"Why?"

You shrug.

"You're also not currently attending, are you? Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"I took a break. It's too loud. Can I sit here?"

Before you can answer, he drops himself next to you with a thud. His fingers swish together as he adjusts his posture.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot. What is your name? I'm Edward."

"Uhh... (Y/N)." You mutter, taken aback by his direct approach. What an odd fellow, you think to yourself.

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)." As he scans your features again, he feels compelled to add, "You look rather pretty."

A faint blush takes over your face and you twirl your hair in an attempt to hide it. Is he mocking you? You genuinely can't read his intentions.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Edward. I think the hands add to your charm." You eventually find the confidence to blurt it out, quickly following up with a laugh.

His heart tightens and he almost forgets about his hazardous extremities, having to stop himself from touching his now throbbing chest. He's never malfunctioned before. It doesn't feel like anything is wrong, either. Your comment, for some reason, made him very happy.

(Y/N). Looking back to everything that happened, he's glad. Maybe he should thank Joyce next time he sees her. He wouldn't have met you otherwise.

As the sun begins to set, you remind Edward that it's impolite to leave a party for too long. He protests, stating he prefers your company. As flattered as you are, you rephrase it as Peg being worried about his sudden disappearance and he feels bad enough to agree on his early retirement. On the condition he can hang out with you again. Once you guarantee a reunion, he makes his way back home.

As he lays on Kim's bizarrely fluid mattress, tucked into the layered pastel sheets, Edward is overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar warmth. A wide, childish smile is plastered on his face and won't go away. Each time he closes his eyes to fall asleep, he pictures the encounter. (Y/N). It's a nice name, isn't it? He finds it particularly charming. He whispers it out loud in the dark room, as if making sure it's real. Reminding himself you're real.

He can't properly explain it. It's the same thick window that stands between him and the world, but you're next to him. An outsider. A rejection. The idea that someone else out there shares his struggle has cleansed him of any longing for acceptance. Why bother with a sea of foreign, smudged faces? Peg becomes Joyce, and Joyce fades into Marge, and they all become a generic crowd of smiling pleasantries. It's a funny thing, being among humans. Once he left his old mansion behind, he realized how truly alone he had been. Still, being surrounded by people he could not comprehend made him feel even more lonely. That is the tragedy; sitting at the grand table, empty handed, unseen, unheard. Misunderstood. No one's fault, really. It just happens. But every now and then, if fate so allows, one might just find another starved attendant. With the same glint in their eyes, of someone not belonging.

Oh, he can't wait to see you again.

It's unusually noisy outside for a late evening and you can't help but glance out the window. That's when you notice the roaring crowd, trampling in a hysterical march of unknown purpose. You have a bad feeling about it. The horned moon leers down at you like a bad omen and you quickly throw a jacket on, sprinting into the street.

"What's this all about?" you shyly ask the nearest group.

"Witch!" Esmeralda scowls at you with a pointing finger.

Peg notices the commotion and runs towards you, completely disregarding the prophetic warnings of the woman.

"Oh, (Y/N). It's Edward. They..." she sighs, frustrated. "I know I don't have the right to ask you this, but you're his friend. Could you please make sure he's alright?" Her voice is pleading and regretful.

You nod without saying anything else. Before you turn to leave, you swiftly gesture to Esmeralda, raising your index fingers up and mimicking a devilish look. She gasps and throws her hands together in prayer.

It had to be done.

Meanwhile, Edward has reached his old mansion and just now stopped in the entrance hall, panting anxiously. He feels nauseous and helpless. It's not that he's being chased by the enraged members of the neighborhood that alarms him. He cannot stand the possibility of not being in your presence ever again. How frightful, how agonizing! He claws at a nearby column in turmoil.

It can't be, it won't happen. He'll tear his way through the masses if he has to. Oh, what a terrible thought. His Inventor would roll in the grave if he knew the violent ruminations that plague him right now. But if he has no other choice...Would he go as far as taking someone's life if it was for your sake? Well, technically speaking, his sake, really. He wants to see you. He needs to.

Panic slowly creeps through his body. The thoughts are piling up in an erratic hum and he can't find his focus again. He paces back and forth, attempting to recollect himself, but there's an urgency that drowns him in cold sweat.

"Edward?"

The ringing stops. A switch has been flipped and he snaps his head in the direction of the voice. It's you. Completely spellbound, he extends his hand to touch your face, verifying whether you might be an illusion of his feverish desires instead. The blade pierces your skin, leaving a bright red trail behind.

"I'm so sorry-" he cries out, realizing his act.

You softly lower his hand with a reassuring smile.

"It's just a small cut. Don't worry about it. I think we have more important matters at hand, won't you agree?" you joke as you nudge your head towards the window.

"I spoke to the police officer on the way here, so we shouldn't have any surprise guests."

You remove your jacket and throw it over some dusty furniture before climbing up the stairs. Halfway through you briefly stop and urge Edward to join you. He simply nods.

When the issue is settled and everything has been said and done, will you return to your miserable exile? Won't the neighbors become suspicious if you're frequently seen sneaking up the hill? Perhaps even the utmost secrecy won't prolong the visits much.

And then what?

As he considers the potential scenarios, he becomes increasingly impatient. The joy of your return has been tainted by the impending doom of abandonment. He wishes you'd just stay with him here, forever.

Once the conclusion has been reached, he lets out a quiet apology. Maybe to you, maybe to the beloved Inventor, maybe even to himself. He inserts a finger into the entrance lock and silently twists it.

You must forgive him. Or at least try to understand him. He just loves you too much, (Y/N). Is it truly such a hideous crime? To want to keep you safe? If so, he will live with the guilt. But not without you.

You're home.

#edward scissorhands #edward scissorhands x reader #johnny depp x reader #tim burton #tim burton movies #halloween imagine #spooky season #yandere #yandere x reader #halloween

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hopepetal · 1 year ago

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Boagem,,,,

Hi Bee applestruda I totally agree

––

Autumn came, and with it came a pleasant chill in the air and large, fluffy clouds carried by a lazy breeze. Leaves turning to fiery colours fell from the trees to the ground, adding a delightful crunch to the ambient sounds of travel. Five pairs of feet walked over the leafy path, one in particular stopping by a stand-out patch of purple-blue. Scarred hands gently plucked one of the late blooming lilacs, a grin lighting up dark green eyes as they examined the flower.

“Scar!” Impulse's voice, cheerful and hearty, called out. “You comin', man?”

Scar straightened up, eyes blowing wide open at how far away the others had gotten while he was picking flowers. “Hey! Guys, wait up!” He jogged up to the group before settling back into a casual pace. “I can't believe you were just gonna leave me like that!” he jokingly complained.

“We still can!” Grian chirped, “it's not too late!”

Scar stuck his tongue out at Grian, who made a face back. Scar huffed playfully at that, crossing his arms. “Well, if you're gonna be like that, I'm not gonna give you these flowers!” he teased, watching Grian's eyes widen.

“Give me those!” Grian squawked, trying to grab them from Scar's hand. Unfortunately for him, he was short and Scar was not, so the taller man simply held them above his head.

“Say pleeeease~!” Scar sang out, letting out his little breathy chuckle, a bouncy sound just as signature as his crooked smile.

Grian crossed his arms, glaring playfully up at Scar. “May I please have the flowers, Scar?” he asked, and Scar gracefully nodded.

“Here you are, my good man!” Scar exclaimed, handing the flowers to Grian with a flourish. Grian snatched the flowers and took a moment to admire them before tucking them behind his ear, nestling them carefully against the feathers of his ear wings.

Mumbo laughed, looking Grian up and down. “Looking great, G. Really adds some colour to your outfit,” he teased, and Grian smacked him with a wing.

Pearl turned around, already laughing. “Alright ladies, break it up. If we want to get these apples before fall is over, we gotta pick up the pace and stop it with the infighting.”

“I'm not going to listen to you!” Grian quipped, and Pearl picked an apple off the tree and threw it at his head. He dodged, of course, but she made her point well enough. “Okay, Pearl, void! No need to be so violent! Absolutely crazy, that woman,” he muttered playfully to Mumbo and Scar.

They made their way through the rows of apple trees before deciding on one. Pearl handed Impulse her bag before carefully climbing up into the tree, going higher and higher until she had practically disappeared into the leaves. “The best ones are at the top!” she called, upon hearing Impulse's confusion. “Right, Impy– catch!”

Impulse yelped as Pearl threw an apple down to him, just barely managing to catch it before placing it in the bag. “I don't know how I feel about being the catcher!” he called up to Pearl, “I feel like this is just an excuse to try and hit me in the face with apples!”

Pearl cackled, giving him no real answer as she threw another apple down for him to catch.

Meanwhile, Grian had decided to try and hop up onto Scar's shoulders in order to get the apples that were higher up. Of course, in his classic Grian style, he hadn't informed Scar of that decision beforehand, leading to the two almost falling over. Mumbo laughed at them as he picked his own apples by hand.

Impulse did, in fact, get hit in the face with an apple. Only once, though. Grian and Scar ended up eating more apples than they put in their bags. Mumbo's head sprout accidentally grew an apple that Scar dared Grian to take a bite out of, much to Mumbo's horror.

They ran into Tango and Jimmy on the tail end of their apple picking adventure, and of course Grian tried stealing an apple from Jimmy.

“Don't you dare!” Jimmy snapped, smacking Grian's hand away. “Tango worked so hard to get these for us!”

Tango squeaked, his tail flicking back and forth. “Hey man, I was just– I was just doin' my job, y'know? Climbing trees is fun, too. I don't do it often.”

Pearl gestured at Tango, looking at Impulse. “See? He gets me!”

Impulse rubbed the sore spot on his forehead where he had been beaned with an apple. “Yeah, well, Tango isn't dropping apples on Jimmy's face!”

Pearl snickered, her wings fluttering slightly. “That was an accident, Impulse!” she exclaimed, though the tone of her voice made it very clear that it had been on purpose. “And! And, I apologized!”

Impulse grinned. “Well, you're not forgiven.”

Tango sucked in a dramatic breath through his teeth. “Ooooh, that's rough. Impulse over here holds a grudge like no one else, y'know. He never forgets.”

“I'm still mad from the time you set my pants on fire,” Impulse grumbled.

“That was ten years ago–!”

Jimmy grabbed Tango's arm. “You did what?!”

“Ten years ago!” Tango yelped, and the whole group devolved into cackling laughter.

They said their goodbyes and went to go pay for their apples, and by popular demand, bought some fresh cider donuts as well. The group sat at one of the tables outside, happily munching away at their donuts and chatting about their most recent adventures.

It was a wonderful fall day. The first of many yet to come.

#answered ask #knights of the angst table #my writing #boatem #pearlescentmoon #grian #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #gtws #also ranchers show up

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nova-amor · 1 year ago

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𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐨𝐜! 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭(?), 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟓.𝟏𝐤

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 & 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 😔

There was a faint ringing in your ears, your eyes straining to count the individual fibers threaded into Peter’s pink bathrobe. There were a few stray strings you resisted the urge to pluck. A faint mystery stain or two embedded into the material that you were sure no amount of Shout spray or Tide detergent could get out.

Had he tried a simple solution of vinegar and Oxy-clean to get the stains out? That always seemed to work on your husband’s clothing; you’d have to relay the information to Mary-Jane next time you saw her. You were sure she had a few household tricks of her own to share too; after being married to a Spider-Man for years, you learn a thing or two about maintaining spandex suits and cleaning up wounds post-missions.

Maybe you should write a book. Yeah, definitely— an instructional booklet detailing the little tips and tricks you had picked up through the years of being married to a superhero. Maybe you could gather a few advisory notes from the other spouses who were willing to share.

You could even get the book published; but what would you name it? “How to Take Care of Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.”? “The Art of Being a Hero’s Wife.”? Or, “The Good Wife’s Guide: Embracing Your Role as a Superhero’s Nurse, Guy-in-the-Chair, Home-maker.”?

No, none of those sound right. You’d have to think about this one.

“Hey!” Peter’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, your blinks slow as you registered what had happened. How long had you spaced out?

“Earth to Mrs. O’Hara!” There was something special about Peter, something unique to this particular Peter variant. Maybe it was his crooked smile or his kind eyes. Or, maybe it was his keen ability to recognize when someone was upset and offer them help without really offering it— a skill that the other Peters you had met didn’t quite have.

“You doing okay?”

Shuffling in your office chair, the leather material squeaking in synchronization with your nervous adjustments. Were you okay? You had gotten enough sleep the night before, you had your morning coffee, you had no deadlines or mission reports to file, and you nor your husband were being attacked by villains. So, you are okay— you have no reason not to be. Right?

“Sorry, yeah, I’m fine,” You reassured Peter, trying your best to not notice the minuscule frown tugging at his lips. You dodged his heavy gaze, glancing over to your black computer monitor. You reached for the mouse, giving the item a slight wiggle to awaken the computer from its state of rest. “You were asking me something, right? A question?”

Peter’s eyes followed your fingers dance across the keyboard, typing in the password to unlock your computer. It was your wedding date. Peter looked back at you, choosing to ignore how you hesitated to press the final numeral key.

“Yeah, you can say no, but would you and Miguel be willing to watch Mayday for a few hours this Sunday?” inquired Peter as he sought out one of the balls at the end of your mini Newton’s cradle. He drew back the metal ball, far enough that once released, the loud smack of the ball knocking against the other pieces drew your attention back to him in annoyance. Peter offered his signature crooked smile, the gesture serving as a good enough apology.

“I don’t know, Pete,” Your cursor hovered over your email box, a recent notification pinging in the corner. It was most likely another email from your therapist— another Peter variant, funny enough. You had skipped out on the last few planned sessions without notice. “You know how much I love Mayday, but I’d have to talk to Miguel first and the house isn’t equipped for a child’s safety. And, I’m not even sure if Miguel can handle being around kids right after the whole… you-know-what situation.”

Peter nodded, “I totally get that, but I already asked a few friends back on my Earth and Jessica and they said no; and, you know I really wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have anyone else to turn to,” Oh, so he was going to play that card. “MJ and I haven’t had a night off from taking care of Mayday in months and I want to surprise MJ with a nice date night this weekend. You’d only be watching Mayday for a few hours, promise, and she’s such a sweet kid—”

Peter was quick to pull his phone out from his pocket, “Like, look at this face,” He shoved his phone screen into your face, showcasing an image of Mayday in a baby’s version of a Spider-Man suit to you. You blinked, the picture of the little girl tugging at your heartstrings— she was a cute kid, a perfect combination of her mother’s features and her father’s personality. “Tell me you wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with this cutie! You’re really gonna say no to that smile?”

You grabbed at Peter’s phone, shamelessly scrolling through the dedicated Mayday photo album that housed thousands of images of his child. You loved her bright green eyes, her rosy cheeks, her toothy grins. You couldn’t deny that the idea of taking care of her wasn’t a good one.

As you passed Peter’s phone back to him, you recognized the look of triumph on his face. “Let me at least talk to Miguel first,” You sighed, the smile on his face stretching into a fat grin. “I’ll let you know by tonight, but I can’t guarantee you that he’ll say yes.”

“Good enough for me!” Peter clapped his hands together. The watch on his wrist began to beep rapidly, a signal that there was a new mission on another Earth.

Peter gave you a sheepish smile as a glitchy orange portal appeared behind him, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Let me know how it goes; see you later!” And, he was off with a quick wave.

The portal closed slowly behind him, the soft hum of the moving universe filling the empty air until it was gone with a mellow whoosh. You turned back to your monitor screen, slinking back into the cushions of your chair. You processed the question over again, your gaze settling on the background image of your computer screen as you mulled over what had just occurred.

It was an image of you and your husband from a few years ago— your arms laced around each other’s waists, large smiles painted across your faces, the two of you clad in all white.

Even the backdrop was a reflection of what a perfect day it had been— the sky cloudless and heaven’s painted a wondrous range of pink, orange, and purple hues, the lake calm and as still as glass beneath your feet.

You could still remember the smell of the sweet air, feel the faint cool breeze on your skin, taste the lingering flavor of your husband’s lips on yours. It had been your wedding day— you two had planned an elopement and held an intimate ceremony on the white sandy beach of Las Coloradas, and then spent the rest of the following week traveling around the northern coast of the Yucatán for your honeymoon.

You had been so happy, so in love, so full of life. Everything was perfect back then. And, if you could reach through the image and teleport back to that time, you would do so in an instant. Without a single moment’s hesitation.

But, your husband hadn’t invented that technology— yet.

“Miguel?” Your knuckles hovered over the closed door of your husband’s office, your feet glued to the wooden hallway floor. You chewed on the inner flesh of your cheek, contemplating whether or not this was an appropriate time to disturb him. But, you had told Peter you would talk with Miguel tonight— and you would rather be damned than let one of your friends down.

“Miguel, I need to ask you a question; can I open the door?” You pressed your ear to the door, craning to hear if there was any noise on the other side. You weren’t even sure if he was home anyway. You had barely seen him all day, only seeing one another in passing in between meetings and mission debriefs. “Miguel, I swear to God—”

“Entra.” You blinked at the sound of his muffled voice. So, he had been home. And, he hadn’t even acknowledged you.

Not wanting to waste another second, you pried open the office door, immediately being greeted by the sight of your husband lounging in his office chair. Your feet were weighed down by lead, unable to bring yourself to step foot into his sacred space. It had been so long since you had been in such close proximity to your husband, not since that fateful night almost a year ago.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to interrupt you,” Whether it was by divine intervention or a sudden power boost in confidence, you mustered up the strength to step foot into the lion’s den. Your eyes glazed over the office space, taking in the area that Miguel had been frequenting every night for the last year.

His office was exactly like you had last seen it: the walls painted a rich, deep shade of taupe and lined with certificates and bookshelves; the couch you two had purchased was still tucked into a far corner with an accompanying side table decorated with an old framed photo of you; his desk centered in the room, littered with papers and computer monitors.

Your gaze finally settled on Miguel. Under any other circumstance, you would have playfully complimented his choice in attire— his signature Spider-Man suit replaced with a loose white t-shirt and Spider-Cat pajama pants you had jokingly purchased him years ago. You couldn’t resist finding him a bit cute in that moment; regardless of the tension between you two, you’d do anything to run your fingers through his shaggy hair and plant a kiss or two on the tops of his cheeks.

You couldn’t resist missing your husband.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare?” Miguel’s voice derailed your train of thought, yanking you back into reality. The reality where your husband couldn’t stand to be around you. “Or, are you going to tell me whatever it is you wanted to ask?”

You fought the urge to flinch, the coldness of Miguel’s tone stinging you. “Peter wanted to know if we could watch Mayday this weekend,” You came out quickly, wanting to get this moment done sooner rather than later. The longer you were in his private space, the more hurt you’d end up getting. “I told him I’d talk to you about it first since I wasn’t sure how’d you feel about it. I promised that I’d give him an answer tonight.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, “Babysit Mayday? You want to watch a baby?”

“Well, yeah,” You answered, slightly taken aback by his question. Everyone knew how much you adored Mayday— you had been glued to Mary-Jane’s side through the entirety of her pregnancy, even being one of the first people allowed into the room after Mayday’s birth. Since Mayday’s arrival, you had been there for the Parker family through every major event in Mayday’s life and they had always welcomed you with open arms in return. Especially after the situation with Miguel.

“You know better than anyone how much I love Mayday,” You added. “And, Peter and MJ have always been good friends to me— to us. The least I— The least we could do is watch Mayday for a few hours for them.”

“When?” Miguel averted his gaze from you, focusing in on one of his many computer screens. You didn’t even have to ask, your gut already knowing exactly what he was looking at. It was a picture of her.

“This weekend. I’ll have to talk and get more details from Peter first and then I’ll be able to tell you what the plan is,” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, attempting to direct your attention to anything other than your husband’s activities. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw hardening as he turned his attention back to you. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked sharply.

You nodded, “I’m just asking,” You took a deep breath. “I just know that being around Mayday or any child has been tough for you since… the incident. And, I just want to make sure you’ll be comfortable with it.”

“I said I’m fine with it. And, if that’s all,” Miguel’s mental and emotional walls shot back up, closing you off and preventing you from being able to reach him any further. God, you’d do anything to catch just a glimpse of what was going through his mind.

“Remember to close the door on your way out.”

The rest of your evening was spent tucked in between your bed sheets with a glass of wine and a book. You tried to ignore the gaping hole in your heart, drowning your sorrows away with an expensive bottle of Bordeaux and a fantasy novel you had been recommended by one of your friends.

Yet, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the space next to you. It lacked Miguel’s familiarity and warmth, the mattress cold and devoid of any fragment of his presence. You couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept in the same bed as you, the nights having blurred together as you had spent the majority of them in tears.

“LYLA!” You called out to Miguel’s A.I. assistant, her small figure appearing on Miguel’s nightstand. You set your book down on once used to Miguel’s pillow, downing the rest of your wine before devoting your attention to the A.I. being.

“LYLA, what’s Miguel been up to?” You questioned, the small figure glitching in and out for a brief moment before appearing closer beside you. “I know Miguel put up a privacy shield to prevent me from knowing what he’s been doing; but, is there any way you can give me a hint into his life?”

LYLA tapped her chin with her forefinger, taking a seat on the edge of your book. She crossed one leg over another, “I guess it wouldn’t go against my programming if I told you what he hasn’t been doing.”

You smiled at that. Regardless of whom LYLA was programmed to follow, Miguel had also created her to be independent enough to formulate her thoughts and opinions— a feature you were sure he regretted now and again.

“No, no, it wouldn’t.”

With a flick of her wrist, LYLA displayed a series of images above her— recorded moments of her spent with your husband. The images revolved in a slow scroll, displaying various situations where Miguel had ordered LYLA to project holographic images of the girl that captured his heart a year ago.

“LYLA, this needs to stop,” You whispered to the A.I. figure, flicking through the images and short video clips. Many of them were recreated memories of Miguel spending time with the girl, the sight of his wide smile infecting your heart like a disease.

The most recent image, dated just a few days ago, was of Miguel spending time with a programmed holograph of the girl. He appeared happy, smiling at the figure and laughing at something she had said. Yet, you knew your husband well enough to recognize how the light never met his eyes, those crimson eyes stormy and filled with an unmistakable sadness.

You sighed, sinking back into your pillows. Bringing your hands up to your face, you gripped onto your face, allowing the rush of emotions to wash over you like a tidal wave dragging you out to see. After a moment, you finally let out a deep breath, peeking back down to LYLA.

She seemed just as upset, toying with the edges of the small case on her phone. “It’s getting worse,” She relayed to you, her lips pursed as she moved closer to you. She then glitched to appear atop your shoulder, the faint ghost of her presence lingering by her cheek. She was trying to comfort you, and she couldn’t even touch you. “When he isn’t on missions, he’s cooped up in his office— rewatching the videos he made with her, utilizing the holograph systems to recreate her. But, it isn’t enough for him. I think he’s planning to look to other universes to find her.”

You blinked, craning your neck to the side to get a proper look at LYLA. “He can’t do that, LYLA,” You snapped at her, your tone a bit harsher than you had intended. You were quick to offer an apology, which she returned with a small smile. “It’s just— He knows the dangers of interacting with another version of her. He could destroy her world again, he’d lose her again. It’d destroy him all over again.”

“I know, but you know how Miguel is,” LYLA turned her gaze away from you, looking towards the framed image of you and Miguel on your nightstand. The photo had been taken right before your engagement, before you learned of his identity as Nueva York’s Spider-Man. Before he discovered the multiverse. “Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to get him to not pursue it. He’s so stubborn that way.”

You nodded, the weight of defeat heavy on your shoulders.

“Yeah, I know,” You breathed out. “It’s one of the reasons why I married him.”

“And, here’s her backpack,” Mayday giggled in your arms, her big emerald eyes beaming at you with a toothy grin on her face. She toyed with the strings of your hoodie, wrapping the strings around her chubby fingers before tugging on them. “I packed a ton of diapers and toys and snacks and a change of clothes if she needs them and,”

You turned your attention to Peter, offering him a reassuring smile. “Peter, I think she’s good,” Mayday cooed in agreement. “You’re just going to be gone for a few hours, you didn’t need to pack the entirety of her life away for just a handful of hours.”

“I know, but,” Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging. He reached out to poke Mayday’s rosy cheek, earning an amused giggle in return. He smiled at that. “I’m just nervous, it’s the first time me and MJ are going to be away from her. And, anything can happen. And, I just really want tonight to go well and—”

“Dude,” You interrupted him, cradling Mayday close to your chest with one hand while the other found a place on Peter’s shoulder. You gave it a light squeeze, offering him an empathic smile. “Tonight’s going to go perfectly, Peter, so stop stressing so much. Plus, Mayday is going to have the time of her life with Tía [y/n] and Tío Miguel. Right, mi pequeña araña?” You raised Mayday to your lips, planting a soft kiss on her squishy cheek. Her toothy grin grew impossibly wider, basking in the warmth of your affection.

“Now, don’t you have a date to catch?” You teased, referring to the time on his watch. Peter cursed, summoning a portal back to his universe.

“Call me, text me, email me, I don’t care. If you or Mayday need something, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” Peter pressed a kiss to Mayday’s forehead, his faint stubble tickling her forehead. He then turned to take a step into the portal, pausing for a moment to look back at you and his daughter. “Oh, and another thing—”

“Peter B. Parker, leave my universe right now!” You playfully ordered, extending your pointer finger in the direction of the swirling vortex.

Peter shook his head with a smile, “Yeah yeah, I’m leaving. Love you both!”

And, with a hushed whoosh, the portal vanished— leaving you alone with just Mayday by your side.

“Well,” You tucked your hands under Mayday’s armpits, propping her up into an upright position. “What do you want to do now, May?”

Mayday could only offer you a babbled answer in return.

The next few hours passed in a blur, your time occupied by Mayday and her little shenanigans. You didn’t realize just how difficult it was to manage a Spider-kid; at her current age, she was already starting to shoot organic webs from her wrists and crawl all over the walls like her father.

You spent the majority of your afternoon chasing after her and prying her off the kitchen cabinets, doing your best to entertain her with normal activities like watching kid shows and playing with toys. But, Mayday wasn’t a normal child that could be entertained with such feeble methods.

“Maydayyy,” You whined as Mayday crawled around the living room ceiling. You weren’t even sure how she had managed to get up there in the first place, you had looked away from her for a single second to grab the TV remote and somehow she had ended up swinging back and forth on your chandelier. “Mayday Parker! Don’t make me call your dad!”

“What’s going on?” Miguel’s voice interrupted the moment, capturing both your attention and Mayday’s. The toddler shot a web at Miguel, swinging herself into his arms.

“Mayday’s been off the walls,” You sighed, plopping down to sit on the edge of your coffee table. “I forgot how draining it can be to babysit.”

Miguel adjusted the toddler in his arms, breathing out a soft whistle. His eyes glazed over the current state of the living room— toys littering the floor, the TV playing an episode of some child’s show called Bluey, and a few spilled snacks embedded into the carpet.

“You take a break,” Miguel shrugged, looking back at you. His face was devoid of any expression, yet his eyes were brewing a storm you couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ll take it from here.”

“But, Miguel,” You wanted to put up a protest. You were perfectly capable of watching Mayday. You had been doing so the entirety of the afternoon before he arrived.

Miguel shook his head, craddling Mayday in his strong arms. “It’s alright, [y/n],” Mayday reached up to toy with one of the buttons on Miguel’s shirt. You couldn’t but notice how form-fitting Miguel’s polo shirt was, your eyes raking over the sight of the sleeves straining around his thick biceps. “If you want to help, just get dinner started or something. I’ll take care of Mayday.” He assured you.

Without another word, you left for the kitchen— your heart sinking further into the black hole forming in your chest. You were supposed to be watching Mayday together, taking care of her together. Yet, per usual, Miguel had taken complete control of the situation and shut you out.

As you rummaged through the kitchen in search of ingredients to begin the dinner process, a flood of emotions washed over you. The memories of the last time Miguel had tried to control you coming back.

It had been after she died. When Miguel’s emotions were still high and unpredictable. For a month after her death, Miguel had lashed out at everyone and everything— micromanaging the entirety of the Spider society down to the finest details. Like everyone else, you had been forced to endure Miguel’s terrible attitude with an empathetic face— yet, unlike everyone else who was able to escape Miguel’s short-temper and mood swings after work, you had deal with it at home as well.

One particular evening though, after weeks of walking around on eggshells with your husband around, you had finally snapped at Miguel. The words still rang clear in your head as you recalled them, as if you had witnessed the moment through a third-perspective rather than as yourself.

“She wasn’t even your daughter!” You yelled at your husband, hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. Your skin scorching hot, frustration pulsing through you so hard and fast that your hands shook by your sides. After one too many times of your husband lashing out on you, it was time he got dealt the same cards. “You didn’t even want a kid up until you met her.”

“That’s not true.” Miguel bit back, rolling his scarlet red eyes. He was seated at the dining room table, the table acting as a great divider between you two. “I wanted kids— I want kids. But, you waited until the last second to tell me you didn’t want any. And, I wanted you so much, I was willing to put aside the idea of having kids so I could be with you. I sacrificed my dream to be with you.”

“I did not wait until the second, Miguel, I made it clear from the beginning that I didn’t want kids.” You retorted, curling your lip down in disgust. Choosing to ignore his usage of past tense in referral to you, you continued to push through— you needed Miguel to open up. This was the furthest he had done so since her death. “I told you before our engagement, I didn’t want kids. And, you said were okay with it. And, you were okay with is up until a couple of months when you met her. And, now because she’s dead, you want to use my womb as a factory and recreate her? That’s not going to happen.”

“You’re going to change your mind.” Miguel leaned back into his chair. “You’re going to change your mind in five, ten years and its going to be too late. And, you’re going to regret not having kids.”

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes. You were mentally exhausted, “I’m not going to change my mind. And, I’m not going to regret having kids.” You sighed. “Because I choose me. And, you choose me too when you decided to marry me even after I told you I didn’t want kids. And, if you’re having regrets about our marriage, I need to know now.”

Miguel stayed silent. A heavy pause lingering in the air between you.

“You regret our marriage?”

Your hands were wrinkled and covered in soap, the rushing water from the faucet filling the still air. The house was cold and quiet once again since Peter had just picked Mayday up a few moments prior. You had spent the past few minutes after their departure holed up in the kitchen, washing the dishes and pans you had used for dinner.

“Do you need help?” You turned your head in Miguel’s direction, his towering frame hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

You shrugged your shoulders, holding a dripping plate out to him. Miguel was quick to take the item from your hands, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to dry it off before placing it in the dish rack. You two stood there in heavy silence, your bodies moving in tandem with the assembly line you had formed.

“Miguel,” You broke the silence, Miguel’s hands stilling at the sound of your voice. You continued to wash the dishes, piling them on the side of the sink for him to dry. “What if we had a baby?”

Miguel blinked, taken aback. “¿Un bebé? ¿Desde cuándo querías un bebé?” He inquired, resuming his task of drying the dishes.

“Since I found you out you were re-creating Gabriella with holographs,” You stated, twisting the handle of the faucet to turn the water off. You reached for another kitchen towel to dry your hands off.

“How do you—?”

“LYLA.”

Miguel nodded, finishing the final dish and setting it into a slot along the dish rack to air dry. “[Y/n], I,” Miguel paused, pondering over what words he should say next. He was tongue-tied, unsure of how to go about the situation. “I just miss her so much and,”

“And, I never let you use me to re-create her. So you with the next best alternative,” You stated, clenching the edges of the kitchen counter. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It’d hurt too much. “And, if re-creating your daughter is going to make you love me again, be healthy and better again— so fucking be it.”

“[Y/n]...”

“Miguel, you want Gabriella back and I’m telling you I’m willing to give her to you.” You sucked in a deep breath, trying to maintain the steadiness in your voice. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t what I want.” He answered.

“Don’t lie to me right now, Miguel,” You hissed. “You've been pushing me away, shutting me out for a year now. Ever since she died, you haven’t been the same and I’m offering you the chance to see her again.”

“Stop,” Miguel snapped at you, the sharp edge of his canines gleaming under the kitchen lights. “We had a good day. Why are you trying to ruin it by bringing this up?”

“Ruin it?” You placed a hand over your heart, a faux gasp of disbelief leaving your lips. “I’m ruining your day?”

“You’re not, I just…” Miguel slinked back from you. “I think we’d better off talking about this later.”

“But when is later good for you, Miguel? When I asked you about her universe, you always said you’d tell me later. When you would leave to go see her, not returning for hours or even days, my questions about where you were or how long you would be there were met with an “I’ll tell you later.” When Gabriella died, I asked you how you said ‘later.’ When our counselor asked how you were feeling, and what you were doing to cope, you said that you needed time to grieve now and let me in later. Later has been months, Miguel,” You exhaled shakily, wiping your rebel tears away with the back of your hand.

You looked up to Miguel, your heart aching at the sight of his frown. “I can’t wait any later, Miguel, I can’t. I’ve been trying to wait on you, I’ve given you space, I’ve given you time to grieve, I’ve given you everything that I have and try to be. Except for one thing. A baby. If giving you a baby will make you love me again, so be it. Let’s not wait for later. Let’s do it right now. Let’s have a baby.”

Miguel hesitated to answer, unsure how to proceed through such murky waters.

“You almost left me for Gabriella because I wouldn’t give you a child. You almost died when she died. And, I’ve stayed by your side through this entire time, supporting you, giving you space,” You reached out to grab at Miguel’s shirt, the fabric wrinkling by your grip. “The last thing I can offer you is to have a baby because I just want to make you happy again. I just want my husband back.”

Miguel’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you close with a tight embrace. You breathed in his scent, the familiar aromas of patchouli and cedar seeping into every fiber of your being, calming your mind and breaths. You relaxed into him; his arms had always been your sanctuary.

“I hate it when you cry, amorcito,” Miguel pressed his nose to the crown of your head, burying his face into your hair. He breathed in your scent, his muscles tensing all around you. It was as if he was scared you were going to disappear from his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” His voice wavered. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. I never meant to do this to you— I just didn’t know what to do, what to feel.”

“Miguel,” His name left your lips like a whispered prayer. You craned your neck back to peer up at him, his glossy ruby eyes meeting you.

“Let me speak, mi alma, it’s my turn.” The walls around Miguel’s heart and mind came crashing down, his face contorting into an expression of pain and sorrow. You reached up to cradle the underside of his ear, your thumb passing gently over his jawline in long, soothing strokes.

“I owe you so many apologies. I’ve been such a terrible husband, such a terrible person. Instead of pushing you away, I should have held you closer;” Miguel announced. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “I never meant to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you so much, amorcito. Más que nada en el universo.”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give up any aspect of your life for me. I know having kids isn’t something you want, and I’m so sorry I made you feel that the only way I’d stay with you is by having a baby,” Miguel continued. “ I became so obsessed with the feeling of being unconditionally loved, unconditionally wanted, that I forgot that I already had someone in my life who already did so. You’re the only important thing in my life. You’re the only one I love and care for. And I promise to never take you for granted, I promise to do better for you.”

Miguel’s promise was spoken through a few whimpers, his eyes brimming with tears. You continued to stroke Miguel’s cheek, reaching up to him by the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Miguel chased after the loving sensation, dipping his head to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

He whimpered against your lips, the kiss salty and sloppy from your tears mixing. The pain in your heart slowly seeped away, being replaced by the intense rush of love you still held for him.

“Miguel,” The sound of his name elicited another tremble from him, his tears slowing. You kissed his cheeks, kissing away his tears and grief. “Te quiero también.”

Miguel clung to you harder, your head returning to its restful spot on his chest. You two stood there for a lifetime, holding onto the torn fabrics of your marriage.

There was still so much for you two to discuss, so many thoughts and emotions to reveal. Yet, at least, you were able to acknowledge the mistakes in your relationship and take the first leap to rebuilding your marriage. And, this time, you’d be able to do it together.

190 notes · View notes

catscidr · 1 year ago

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i wasn't going to post this but like ...... why not lmaoa. purely self indulgent because this happened to me earlier and i Craved dottore fluff. yk. when the comfort character is an objectively very bad person but u still want them to Comfort u....……… yeahhh (;￣ー￣川 ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: not proofread, written while i was still winded lowkey so sry if the grammar is goofy, fluff, implied fighting/training, some gross and icky descriptions of what it feels like to hyperventilate/struggling to breathe. reader does martial arts includes: gn reader, dottore wc: 750 (shortest post yet …. )

It was hard to breathe. Anytime you inhaled it felt like you were choking on nothing, tears stung your eyes as your chest heaved in and out in a futile attempt to get air to fill your lungs. The more you tried the worse your state became; as you inhale through your mouth you sniffle, snot blocking your sinuses from the urge to cry.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Sob.

Your skin started to feel prickly, as if a colony of fire ants decided to make the space between your fat and skin their new home. With a head weighing what felt like a ton, you lean forward to heave. Strands of frizzy, sweaty hair falls forward to hide your face from whoever would want to take a look at your pitiful form on the ground. Tears slide down your cheeks, a dam broken by the absence of oxygen in your body.

“Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Deep breaths.” You feel a hand on your back, light and warm. The voice felt distant but still brought you comfort as you push through the gross sound of your mucus-filled nose and inhale as slowly and deeply as you can through your nose as per his directions.

He removes his hand from your back. You hear the quiet sound of boots shuffling and not long after, you feel him crouch in front of you. Gloved hands come up to your pain-stricken face, tilting your head up to straighten your posture ever so slightly. “Breathe slowly,” he reminds you, voice a tad quieter than before, easing you into being able to breathe normally again.

You suddenly feel self-conscious even as you’re clearly in distress- the urge to cover yourself, to wipe your nose and clean up whatever was out of place on your person to make yourself look presentable- to appear as if you weren’t, quite literally, hyperventilating and on the verge of a panic attack. His keen eyes catch the way you try to shut your mouth and he juts his index right on the edge of your bottom lip in a silent threat. Obeying wordlessly, you give up trying to make yourself look proper and crack your eyes open to take a look at the doctor.

Though your eyesight was blurry from the blobs of tears blocking the way, you could still clearly see Dottore’s signature mask (at this point you could probably recognize it even from several meters away) and a wave of calm washes over you.

Still heaving harshly, the tears rolling down your cheeks go from being born from pain to being brought out from exhaustion. You shut your eyes, sniffling as your breathing eventually evens out, hands weakly tugging at your keikogi while your nails make dents into the skin underneath it.

“You’re not supposed to let your anger control you when you spar,” he scoffs lightly. “This is what happens when you do.” Although his words were harsh, the tone he used was nothing but. Anyone else would turn away from him, but you knew better. Having the Second Harbinger comfort someone through a moment like this was unheard of- unless that someone was you.

“I… ‘m sorry,” you mumble quietly, throat hoarse and stuffy from the last… however long you’ve been sitting on the dusty training room floor. He hushes you with an index to your lips and brings his hand down to rest on top of yours, frown seemingly permanently etched onto his face. “Did I do good, at least?” you ask with a crooked smile that immediately fades once your mouth stops moving.

He hums, running his other hand through your hair to brush back any locks that had made their way back in front of your face again. “That’s for you to figure out,” he says blankly, words void of comfort (though his actions say otherwise).

That answer was good enough for you. You let him caress you (awkwardly, since he wasn’t the most affectionate man, but it was better than nothing) as you keep inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth. You hear the sound of people sparring just a mere few meters away, but none dare approach you, far too intimidated by the man in front of you. Carrying on their training as if this was a normal occurrence, you bask in the small amount of comfort he brought you. Your chest still hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to get some tissues to blow your nose, but Dottore’s gentle hand on going back and forth on your head was enough for now.

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #il dottore x you #il dottore x reader #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x gn reader #il dottore x y/n #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

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multi-fandoms-posts · 5 months ago

Text

A Flirt in Focus

X Men Masterlist

The sun shines through the large windows of the studio where Y/N sets up her camera equipment. She has the assignment to photograph James McAvoy for a new photo shoot, and although she wants to stay professional, she feels the excitement rising within her. James is charming, witty, and... quite handsome. She tries to focus on her work as she checks the lighting and ensures everything is perfect.

As she lifts her camera and looks through the viewfinder, she sees James sitting on a pile of hay, casually leaning back with his signature cheeky smile. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and a dark vest that give him an almost historical appearance.

"So, how do I look like?" James asks playfully, winking at her. "Ready to conquer the world? Or just to make your day a little better?"

Y/N laughs softly and shakes her head as she takes the first photos. "I’m sure you always do that anyway, right?"

"Oh, that depends," he replies with a crooked grin. "For the right person, I’d make an extra effort."

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up, and she lowers the camera for a moment to compose herself. Stay professional, she reminds herself, but it’s hard when he’s flirting so charmingly.

"Now, now, you’re blushing," James says, leaning a little forward. His eyes sparkle as he looks directly at her. "That’s cute."

"I’m not blushing," Y/N protests, but her voice doesn’t sound very convincing. She readjusts the camera and tries to focus on her work. "Let’s just keep going, okay?"

James laughs softly, leans back, and poses again. Yet even when he sits still, that cheeky smile remains on his face. "I think you’re just nervous because you’re spending so much time with me."

Y/N presses the shutter and takes a few shots, but she can’t help the smile that creeps onto her lips. "Nervous? No, I’m totally relaxed," she says, though she knows that’s not entirely true. She sneaks a quick glance at him, and his grin widens even more.

"Hm, really? I thought you might be a bit distracted," he says in an almost innocent tone, slowly trailing his finger over his lips while giving her a mischievous look.

"Distraction might be a word for it," Y/N murmurs, trying to concentrate on the perfect light and composition. But with each glance at him, it gets harder.

"Tell me," James starts as he shifts a bit to strike a new pose, "have you ever photographed someone you liked as much as me?"

"Oh, you’re very confident, aren’t you?" Y/N tries to keep her tone neutral, but she can’t fully suppress a hint of laughter. She readjusts the camera, attempting to maintain a serious face.

"Well, I get the impression you’re having fun," he says with a wink, leaning a bit forward. "You’re smiling a lot."

Y/N sighs softly, conceding he’s right. She’s enjoying this session much more than she expected, and it’s not just about the work. "Maybe it’s because you keep flirting instead of just sitting still."

"Hey, that’s part of the package," James grins. "I mean, who wants a boring photo shoot?" He moves closer, looking directly into her eyes. "And besides, I like it when you smile."

The smile on Y/N’s face widens, and she lowers the camera for a moment. "You really make it hard for me to concentrate on my work."

James stands up from his spot and slowly walks toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe that’s the plan," he says softly, stopping just inches away.

Y/N’s heart begins to race as she meets his gaze. For a moment, it feels like the world around them has come to a standstill, just her and James in this room, in this moment. "What are you up to?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

James smiles again, this time more gently, and leans in slightly. "How about we go out for a drink after this photo shoot?"

Y/N blinks in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to actually ask, even though his flirting hinted at it. "You... want to go out with me?"

"Of course," James replies without hesitation. "You’re beautiful, talented, and you smile every time I tease you. I like that. So, what do you say?"

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up again, but this time she smiles broadly. "Okay," she finally says, her voice steady. "I’d like to go out with you."

James’ smile grows even wider, and he steps back. "Perfect. Then I’ll behave myself now so we can wrap this up quickly."

Y/N laughs softly and raises the camera again. But this time it’s different. She knows this day has just taken an unexpected turn, and she’s excited to see where it leads her.

#james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy #x men x reader #x men #charles xavier #charles xavier x reader

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yiiyiiwrites · 10 months ago

Note

More JJ and burnt out overchieving kook please, anything...

Ok ok, add on from this prompt I intended for it to be a smaller fic but here you go:

The temporary ban on the country club seemed to fall away quickly, JJ eyeing her up across the decking. There’s an added confidence to her walk, short skirt fluttering around her thighs, giving him a brief view of the cotton floral underwear he watched her put back on this morning.

She fit in her natural habitat, slight smile stretching her lips as she greets one of her sister’s friends. Beside them though, nothing compares. There’s an edge to her that they don’t quite have. She might be dripping in cash, but it’s the subtle acknowledgement to the waiter and the clear thank you for their service.

Bidding the girls around the table goodbye, she raised her oversized sunnies on top of her head. Her gaze tracing up JJ’s form, pausing at the white shirt folded up to his elbows. Smiling she walked up to him and wiped the sheen of sweat off his forehead, her signature silk handkerchief going back to her small handbag.

The small opening where the servers dip in and out giving them enough privacy to interact. Part of him wishing she’d do the same out on the restaurant floor for all to witness. As if reading his mind, she plucked his red tie in her hands and twirled it around in her palm pulling him down closer to her. Nose to nose, lips parting.

“You look so cute in this,” she whispered, nose nudging to his before her lips trace the shell of his ear. “Wear this later for me?” She released the tie and pushed him back as if she hadn’t said anything.

For once JJ is scrambling, head racing at her boldness. Dimples setting his cheeks as he just nodded his head.

“When you said you wanted to make the most of your membership. I didn’t think you meant this.” He said leaning into her, palm steadying him against the wall as he dipped to meet her gaze.

She side stepped him, spinning round to catch his wandering gaze. “That’s a bonus.”

He swatted the hem of her skirt, “for you or me?” He smirked, not needing an answer. “I finish my shift in a couple hours, you want to leave with me?”

“Sure.”

The persistent ringing bell behind them, interrupted the small moment. The one she couldn’t help, but play along with. Good girl, bad boy and from the wrong side. Her stepmother Gloria, had warned her regularly not to hang around on the cut or the unsavoury people that lived there. The dragon had no idea how much alike she was to a parent on the cut, but used her money and status for manipulation.

“Hey, I gotta get back.” JJ said pulling her out of her of head, his palms smoothing down her arms. The action calming her, he had a knack of breaking through to her.

She watched JJ disappear through the restaurant and out onto the deck outside. Pushing her self off the wall, she followed suit and searched for her father. His table vacant, nothing but empty coffee mugs piled upon it. Turning, she collided with another body.

The sunglasses on her head askew, the apology on her lips stopping short when she came face to face with her ex boyfriend.

He rights himself, pressing his palm against his chest to smooth the wrinkle from his blue shirt. “Well good to see that there’s nothing in your hands this time,” he chuckled, the crooked grin plastered on his face telling more of him having the upper hand now.

“Don’t tempt me.” She poked the jug of water at the table, thought wandering to dumping it on him. She tried to avoid his path as she made a move to escape, but his hand circled her wrist.

“Now I get it,” he leaned down, voice lowering. “You’ve got it hard, hell everyone knows you don’t get it at home. So you have to demand it elsewhere.” He shrugged, fingers digging into her wrist making sure she stayed to listen.

She didn’t need to say anything, one warning left before she’s banned for good and kicked out. This was the one place she could escape her family, but still keep up appearances, even if she did hate everything about it.

“But, who would have thought you’d be slumming it with Maybank over there.”

Heart thumping in her chest, she glanced to the side and JJ, his movements stilling for a second a few tables away. The tightness around her wrist disappeared, fingers tapping to her cheek and reverting her attention the Kook in front of her. She just hoped JJ hadn’t overhead the conversation.

“Wonder what Gloria would say?” He hummed, the thinly laced threat encouraging him to step closer. “I mean least you’ll get some attention at home.” He shoved his hands in his chino pockets, oversized watch hanging over the edge.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, the burning bubble of anger stung the back of her throat. She wanted to scream in his face, push him just like he had. Too much talk, status crushing her like every other thing in the figure eight.

Not like JJ though. He let her breathe.

So she took a breath, “did I not give you enough attention?” She tilted her head, bottom lip jutting out in faux concern. “I mean there’s no excuse to cheat on your girlfriend. But then again I should have known, you cheat on all your school tests.”

The smile dropped from his face, back straightening as he tried to make himself taller. The stare down to her wavering in the wake of knife she dealt him. She too could afflict pain with words just like him. Two can play that game.

It amazed her how the people around them turned a blind eye. Not that she expected anyone to step in. In this scenario she’s seen as the bad girl, the one who treated her boyfriend wrong and not the girl who was hurt by the boy. Maybe she’s not entirely good though, she knows she has a place and part to play. Not good enough for her family and too much for anyone else.

She glanced to the side once more, tall blonde nowhere to be seen.

Looking back to her ex boyfriend, the rose tint faded. The mask dropped for her, his flared nostrils and clenched fists enough to get her to flee. She pushed her way through the late lunch crowd waiting for a table and threw herself out the door.

She couldn’t help but laugh, a sick flicker of Deja vu welcoming her in the name of JJ Maybank. Joint between his fingers and a cloud of smoke curling out from his lips.

The boldness of this morning slipping away. "Ready Maybank?" She asked shaking her car key in her hand.

JJ scanned the landscaped driveway, large house coming into view. He’d been there many times before, but had only came from the dock at the back of the house. His odd gardening jobs leaving him strictly to the back lawn and pool.

“What about your parents?”

She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the garage door to roll up. There’s a split door to the right side reserved for her car. “Dad’s playing golf and then going to the office. Step moms at the spa.” She stole a glance to JJ, there’s an odd distance between them and it wasn’t their status.

JJ’s been staring out the window for most of the drive, jaw clenched and legs facing the door. She’s convinced he heard her ex and she's wondering why he agreed to come home with her. The knot in her stomach tightening at the thought of disappointing him.

Climbing out her seat, JJ’s brows furrowed as the garage door rolls to a shut. She grabbed his hand, not bothering to turn the light on as she moved in muscle memory to the door.

“I never go in the front way, I have a side door through the garage,” she said over her shoulder, his hand still clasped in hers as she guided him up the steps.

A heavier door appeared at the top of the stairs, she unlocked it and kicked her shoes off on the welcome mat.

The open plan room didn't showcase much of her status. The space might be big, but the double bed in one corner and a sofa in the other makes it look vacant. The walk in wardrobe is half full, a desk on one side for her studies and the bathroom beside it. There’s an upright piano collecting dust, she hasn’t played since she broke her hand years ago.

“Huh, not what I was expecting.” His eyes roam the open plan room, there’s not much to look at, but it’s a far cry from his own home.

There’s no personal touches, no colour to the walls. Half unfinished brick, plastered walls left unpainted. Rugs overlap the tiled floor, the only warmth other than the sun shining through the large windows that look out to the back garden.

“Ahh yes,” she nodded. “After my little blow up at the country club. I’ve been banished to here, out of sight out of mind right.” She rattled the door closest to her bed, giving up when the lock keeps it in place. She doesn’t tell him how it’s the only way to the main house and it’s locked most of the time to keep her out of the way.

She opened the small fridge, beer bottles clinking in her hands. JJ doesn’t waste anytime necking the cool beer. There’s an uncomfortable silence between them, normally they’re crashing lips and tangling limbs, no need to speak. JJ loosened his tie, buttons tearing open as he leant back on his elbows.

He brings the bottle back to his lips, chasing the last drops of beer.

Sitting back on the bed, she turned her body to face him. "Look what happened at the..."

JJ silenced her, lips crashing into hers. Fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. "Stop overthinking it." He said between kisses.

She doesn't make a move to shred him of his clothes, her hand tugging the red tie and yanking him to hover over her.

He smirked down at her, “you really must like slumming it," he whispered in her ear.

There you go! If you have any more requests or prompts send them in - Yiiyii

#obx fanfiction #obx fic #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank prompt #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #yiiyiiasks

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