#almost immediately upon leaving my room my head started hurting AGAIN

[knifegremliin]

breaking news! the world wants me dead! (<- has a headache again)

[the-kr8tor]

Once More to See You

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.4k

Synopsis: Like Alice in wonderland, you accidentally fall to another universe where everything is different from your universe, including your best friend, Hobie Brown. Will you be able to come home to your best friend before you get ripped apart molecule by molecule? Or will you fail and leave the love of your life wondering where you are for the rest of his life?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, CW Blood, CW violence, TW death, CW injury, CW vomit mention. Bestfriends to lovers (speedrun edition), established relationship, Hurt/comfort, Angst.

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Eyes almost crossed, back hunched and aching, you tinker at the tiny components of the inter dimensional watch Hobie started putting together. He brought it to you last night with a paper bag filled with your favourite takeout to bribe you in helping him. “It's for emergencies,” he said, “I don't trust that vampire from the future,” he grumbled in between bites of chips.

The soft music from your record player filters through the dimly lit room, save for your work lamp, the sun is just about setting in the horizon. You have the perfect view of the expansive London skyline just outside your window. It's a foggy day, clouds hanging above like cotton balls, fluffy and grey— rain's coming, you surmise from the unmistakable smell of petrichor. It's already raining somewhere, you think. And you worry immediately for him since he's still on patrol. Did he bring a raincoat with him at least? But knowing him, he'd just swing around while there's a downpour. And when you scold him while he's dripping wet, soaking your carpet, he'd just shrug and say, ‘I looked bloody good at it though’ to which you'd scoff, but secretly agree.

Distracted, you poke at the wrong wire with your metal pliers, a spark from the main power source shocks you, flinching and yelping, you check for any damages on your fingertips.

“Should've worn rubber gloves, love.” Hobie's sudden whisper in your ear makes you jump out of the stool, goosebumps appearing on your arms as he catches you before you land harshly on your back. “Got you. Maybe you should invent seatbelts on barstools, hm? You'd make a fortune from pubs alone. No more drunkards falling face first.” He jokes, arm snaked along your back, hand splayed over your ribs, and face dangerously close to your own.

You decide to quip back as revenge for making you almost fall. “I would invent it if you weren't dropping so many projects on my lap.” Still floating above the floors with the help from his hold, he fakes letting you go. You squeak, hands instinctively flying to his shoulders for support. Maybe you shouldn't have teased him when he's the only one standing between you and a bump on your head. “You little—”

He raises a pierced brow, “what'd you say again, love?” His mischievous smirk tells you that he's about to do it again, so you surrender. How could you fight him when he looks at you like you're the only person in the world that's worthy of his touch?

Lips clamping down, you still glare at him despite the overwhelming fondness for the man holding you in place.

“That's what I thought.” Chuckling, he sits you upright back on the stool, he even fixes your shirt for you. “There, lookin' mighty fit today, why are you all dressed up?”

It's your turn to quirk an eyebrow, “dressed up? Hobs I basically live in this shirt.” He unabashedly roams his eyes over to the old band shirt that he made himself once upon a time. “Bold of you to assume I have some place to go.” You say even with the searing heat from your cheeks, and clammy hands.

“We could go,” Hobie shrugs, hiding his sudden shyness, you have that effect on him. “There's a new building we could swing to, if we go now we could still catch the sunset.” He inches closer, hand smoothing down the goosebumps on your arms.

“It's gonna rain, Hobs.”

“How'd you know? You a weather girl now?”

“I can smell it, and also my knees feel it.”

“What are you eighty?” He says with a laugh. “Does that make you a cradle snatcher?” Half joking, he really wishes that you'd get the hint.

Eleven years of friendship and counting, you still haven't crossed that invisible line between friendship and something more. It's not from the lack of trying from Hobie's end, no, he has told you a few times that he fancied you, more than a best friend would. But you're too afraid to say it back, to say or even scream that you fancy him, or love him is the better way to put it. But you're afraid that it might not work out, that friendship is the best thing for the both of you, that all the longing looks thrown between you, and all the lingering touches were all just attraction because you've known each other for basically forever; and the feeling wouldn't last once you do get together.

You don't want to risk your friendship only for it to end in tears and heartache. No, you love him too much to hurt him like that, and he knows it too.

He was more bold with his feelings for you a few years before, years before he was bitten and was given the heavy responsibilities. But now that he bears the title of Spider-man, he's starting to think having a romantic relationship with you while he's tangled up in all the danger he faces everyday, isn't such a great idea. So his advances are much less now, Hobie just misses you, he suppose, that's probably why he asked for your help with his own batch of watches even though he can handle it on his own while he's blindfolded. An excuse to just see you, an excuse to be in your presence. Because if you can't be together, he'd settle for staying like this forever, just best friends.

Best friends who unequivocally love each other, best friends who are waiting for the right time. Even if it means waiting for forever.

You smile softly, knowing that his joke is a half wish. “That means you're a coffin snatcher then.”

Hobie leans closer, hands on top of your table that's behind you, arms caging you in. You can smell the leather on him, and the usual scent he sports when he's particularly in a good mood. You'd know, you gifted the cologne to him. He thinks you're uncomfortable because of the position, he was about to move away but you remedy that with a smile, and with your hand placed on the back of his elbow. He can feel how your pulse hammers against your skin.

“C’mon, love, the view's pretty up there.” His view right now can't compare though.

“I can see the view from here, besides, I still have work to do.”

He tilts his head, an act he knows you can't resist. “I’ll swing you back home quicker than you can say ‘cougar’” you laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners, and he thinks your smile is better than any sunset he has ever seen. “You've been cooped up in here for too long. When was the last time you've seen the sun—?” You open your mouth for a quip but he beats you to it, “not including seeing it from your windows.” Nodding, he raises both eyebrows, looking at you through his long lashes.

For a moment he thought you'd agree, that you bought into his charms. But you clear your throat, moving away, lips tightly closed like you refuse to spill any secrets. Or spill out a confession. I don't want to ruin this, you think, if I go, what would happen up there? Your mind runs through a thousand scenarios, a consequence of your genius mind. It's not all good, you suppose, and you're sure that whatever happens on top of that skyscraper, you'll never come back from it.

You love him, you really do, but he has a heavy burden to carry. You don't want to add to it. Leaning to the side, still sitting on the stool, he instinctively hovers his hand close to your side, just in case you fall off again.

“I fixed the problem on your watch by the way.” Changing the subject is good, changing the subject means you don't have to face reality.

“Yeah?” He acts nonchalant, yet, there's a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him. It's not all your fault, he thinks. All the tiptoeing around each other, all the heavy side glances aren't all your fault, it's his too. He might've faced a hundred or so dangers but he can't seem to find the courage to finally say those three magic words. Jaw tightening, he's not mad at you, he's mad at himself.

“Your initial power source didn't have enough juice. Hence why it can't generate the right particles for inter dimensional travel.”

Hobie leans on the table, hand still close to your waist, eyes roaming intently at your handiwork. You're good, too good at making these watches, even better than Miguel could be. Or he's just biased. You made it look good too, even with the hodgepodge of materials he gave you.

“You figured that out in less than twenty four hours?” He's in awe of you, he could've thought of that, but it would've taken him a tad longer. “Fuckin' brilliant,” he says under his breath.

You raise your chin proudly, “I did, it was easy-peasy.” It was not, you barely slept because you couldn't sleep not while this huge glaring problem sits at your work table. If it needs fixing, you're gonna get it fixed within the day or you think you'll crumble into dust. Especially if it's Hobie asking for help.

Hobie beams, he's incredibly proud of you, but, “you crossed your lines, love. If you want me to catch on fire then you did it brilliantly.”

“What?” Your smug smile melts, eyes scanning the colourful wires. Shoulders sagging, you glare at him. “No, it's not.”

“Yes it is,” chuckling, he takes your hand to guide and point it out for you. “Right there. Between the cooling system and the red wires.”

Eyes narrowed, nose wrinkling, he smiles at your cute expression. “I can't see— oh.” You see it, the mess of wires lies just under the new power source that you were so proud of. “Fuck.”

“You owe me,” Hobie pokes your side.

“No, I don't. Not all of us have super eyesight.”

“Really? Blamin’ my poor eyes?” Hobie widens his hazel eyes, brilliant swirls of colours mesmerize you.

“Your eyes are far from poor.” You shove his face away from you gently, smiling, you laugh at his fake glare. “Don't you have to patrol, spiderman?”

He surrenders, huffing, he takes his mask from his back pocket to put it back on his head. “Fine, just make sure to fix your wires, I don't want to come back to a crater the next time I visit.”

“I'll uncross them, don't worry. I'm not an amateur, y'know.”

Hobie pats your shoulder for now, maybe he'll pay you a visit again tonight just to make sure your flat didn't turn into ashes. You call him back before he could exit through your fire escape.

“Be careful, please?” Your worried tone makes him turn back around to face you. You imagine that he's at least smiling under his mask. “Just…I have no idea what to do with your watch if you suddenly croak.”

“Always so bloody sweet,” walking back towards you, he grins even though you can't see it. Your worries make you reach towards him. Holding him by the lapels of his leather jacket, you trace the little stitches he made. His spider senses tingle, and he hears how your heart quickens. “I'll be fine, yeah? Don't worry ‘bout me.”

“You know I'll always worry.” You whisper.

“I know, I'm like that too when it comes to you.” Your breath hitches in your throat. He shuts his senses down so he can't hear how fast your pulse thumps, or how you weakly swallow down your nerves. “Why don't I come back here tonight, ease that genius mind of yours.” He pokes your forehead, you nod. “Good, I'll bring takeout, that isn't instant ramen. Seriously, love, that shit ain't good for you.”

“It's tasty though.”

“You'll get kidney stones.” He begins to walk backwards, so he could still see your face as he goes. For some reason, he doesn't want to go. But he suppose that he always has this feeling whenever he visits.

“I've got a clean kidney,” you softly smile, waving goodbye, hoping that he comes back to you in one piece just like always.

“Sure you do,” one leg after the other, he exits from the window until you're staring into your open window and until his lingering scent fades.

“Right,” you sigh, slapping your cheeks to stay in the present, then turning around to continue your work.

For an hour you painstakingly untangle the wires with your tweezers, minutes turn into hours, and your empty stomach grumbles. Lower back aching once again. For a second you're just about finishing it, then a spark lights up, then a blinding explosion of colours.

You should've worn rubber gloves.

—

Hobie swings casually towards your flat, it's a lot harder to swing with one hand while the other holds onto the plastic bag filled with your favourite. Smiling under his mask, wind blowing towards him, buildings whizz past as he increases his speed.

The smell of smoke hits his nose. Then puffs of black tar greets him where your flat used to be.

Heart in his stomach. He lands on the pavement less gracefully, the bag slipping through his trembling fingers.

A crowd watches on at the burning building, pieces of glass lay under his boots, crunching as he stands frozen on the spot. His eyes roam for your familiar face, around the people that watch the blaze, grief curls around his throat when he doesn't find you amidst the throng of strangers. It slowly suffocates him.

Your name spills out of his lips, hoping with every utterance of your name you'll emerge unscathed. He feels dizzy.

A firefighter notices him. Hope blossoms in his chest when Hobie turns towards the uniformed man. But the forlorn face the man sports under the soot covering his skin says it all. “There's no survivors!” He yells above the sirens, Hobie crumbles to his feet. “There's no survivors. You're too late, Spiderman.”

He's too late. His ears ring, he could only hear the crackling of the fire whilst it eats away at you. Charred wood collapses, nose stinging from the smoke, vision blurry as tears silently fall.

You're gone. And all that's left of you are ashes that float down towards him like grotesque snowflakes. Sticking to his suit, heat clinging to his skin.

It's too soon, he had a lifetime with you. A sudden burst of rain pelts at him. You were right, rain was coming.

He should've tried harder to convince you to go out.

—

A swirl of neon colours whizz past as you fall into the kaleidoscope depths. Scream stuck in your throat, hand stinging from how you grip the watch, or what's left of it. It's now in your hand, jagged metal pieces piercing your skin. There's a light at the end of the tunnel, bracing yourself, you fall on the harsh concrete. The portal spits you out feet first, skidding across, body tumbling on the ground. You're otherwise unharmed despite the harsh landing.

Eyes adjusting in the light, you blink rapidly, shielding your eyesight from the intense sun.

Wait, the sun? Wasn't it sunset a few minutes ago?

Sitting up, you roam your eyes around where you landed. The familiar London skyline is to your right, while on your left are buildings you can't seem to recognize no matter how you try to remember.

“I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore.” You say, full of bewilderment. The watch worked, but in the way you wanted it to.

The roof where you landed on is dirty, full of abandoned broken furniture. Pots upon pots of dead plants stacked on top of the other. Good thing there isn't any broken glass or you'd be bleeding.

Propping yourself up, you stand up on two wobbly feet. Stomach churning, vision warbling, you think you're about to be sick. You can't believe Hobie does this on a daily basis.

You inhale sharply, trying to compose yourself and the instant ramen in your stomach. “Oh fuck.” Exhaling, you calm yourself down. Heart finally steadying to a normal rhythm, you sigh before you check the remains of the cracked watch in your hand. “Shit!” The broken pieces fall off from your palm as you look at it. “I'm fucked!”

Like a child throwing a tantrum, you kick a cardboard box, it soars across the roof. Groaning loudly, you stomp on the ground as if it was its fault that you're in another dimension.

You felt it before it happened. Something spreads inside you, like a bolt of lightning has struck you. The sensation starts from the crown of your head to your fingertips, goosebumps appearing on your skin, you glitch for only a second but it's enough to give you motion sickness.

“Oh my fuck—!” A blast from behind you reverberates, wind rushing around you, whipping your searing skin. “What the—?”

If being stuck in an alternative universe wasn't enough, a guy wearing huge mechanical wings is approaching you quickly. Too quickly.

Before you could duck, the cackling vulture grabs you from the roof. Lifting you up, the whiplash from his momentum almost breaks your neck.

“Got you!” He laughs in your ears, metallic claws digging into your biceps. A black slithering blob weaves around his bicep, crawling up to your own like a slimy worm.

“What the hell, old man!” You scream above the noisy exhaust of his wings. “Let me go! I was literally just standing there!”

He clicks his tongue, like he's chastising a child. “No, no, no, not until he gives me what I want. Then I'll think about letting you go, but it's a long drop.”

“Who—?” As he says the word ‘drop’ you look down, vertigo making you nauseous. You must be a hundred feet above the streets. You wish Hobie was here to save you. Tears in your eyes, panic sets in, making your hands tremble and your chest desperately heave in air.

A flash of red and black, a harsh crack of bone, and a splash of something warm on your cheek, you fall from the vulture’s hold.

Gasping, reaching for something, anything to hold onto, you get snatched up before you turn into a bloody street pancake.

A strong arm envelops you as you hug tighter, face hiding away from the harsh winds. Clinging onto the stranger, they seem oddly familiar under your touch. They smell familiar too, like your nose is so used to it that you can recognize it above anything else. Leather and bergamot, the scent he wears when he's in a good mood.

You raise your head to take a peek at your savior. The spikes on his head are dark and swirly, like an evil unicorn's horn. They don't shine in the sunlight anymore, it's the same deep shade as his mask. He no longer bears the resemblance of your Hobie. He feels like him, smells like him, even the warmth spreading to you is the same. There's a deep familiarity, yet, there's something amiss.

“Hobie?” You call, and when he shifts his head to gaze at you, his grip loosens.

Craning his neck down, the eyes of his mask widens. “Y/N?” He breathlessly asks, arm sliding off from shock. “Shit!”

“Hobie!” Briefly falling, he catches you immediately. You both land on a roof, his arms are around you, hand shielding your head from the collision as you both slide across the terracotta roof. Eyes closed, you hide your face on his chest as he bears the impact for you.

Hobie groans, glad that he's wearing leather that helped with lessening his injuries from the awkward fall. Opening his eyes, he thinks he has died when he sees your face look back at him.

Expression etched into worry, you check for any injuries on his body. You get a good look at his suit, it's different, way different than you saw him last. The only thing that stayed the same is his old leather vest, but it looks like it's more well worn than the last time you've seen it. There's marks on the leather, and holes where it's not supposed to be in. You'd mend it for him like always, but there's more pressing matters.

Hobie reaches for you, black cloth enveloping and swirling around his toned arms, showing a bit of his scarred skin. You don't miss how his hands tremble as he holds your face in his calloused hands. It's all familiar to you, yet, his hands are more rugged, rougher, but you know it's him. You could recognize his touch anywhere.

“Did the vulture finally get me?” You raise an eyebrow at his question. The heaviness in his chest slowly fades for the first time in years, he wants to tell you everything, to hold you forever in his arms until all the holes in his heart are filled by you once more. His thumbs wipe the crimson off of your cheek, an instinct of his.

“W-what?” You shake your head, and he relishes at the sound of your voice. The same voice he has only heard in your old voicemails that he plays before going to bed. “I think you have a concussion, Hobs.” Gently, you reach for his mask, he stops you before you could lift it away.

“Hobs,” he chuckles weakly, “I haven't heard of that name in years.”

You know this isn't your Hobie but you can't help but sympathize with him, you can hear the sadness and hurt laced with his deeper tone. You'd ask, but it isn't your place. Literally.

Hobie sits up with a groan, back cracking, the sound making you wince. “Sounds like you need to stretch more.” You joke.

He laughs, his mind tricks him, making him think of all the teasing you've said to him once upon a time.

“I think my back is beyond saving by just stretching.” Head leaning on his elbow, arm propped up by his knee, he still can't wrap his mind around your existence. “Which dimension did you come from?”

You straighten your back, lips curling into a smile. “How'd you know I'm not from here?”

Hobie reaches for his mask, for a moment he pauses. Still, with an apprehensive tug, he takes off his mask. Shock and confusion is evident in your expression. Reminding him of the time when he told you he was Spider-Man all those years ago.

“You're…old.” A hundred questions flood your mind at the sight of his crow’s feet that decorates his eyes. He has smile lines around his mouth, he still has piercings but there's less of them now. His hair is graying, patches of grey that weave around his locs. Under the wear of time on his face, you could recognize that face amidst a thousand faces. It's Hobie, but not your Hobie. “Definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

He chuckles deeply, he misses that humour of yours. “You look how I remember.” he whispers, you could barely hear his words.

You knit your eyebrows together. “Did I travel to the future instead of a different dimension?” The same sensation passes through you, rattling your bones and wracking your senses. You glitch once again. Stomach churning, you cough out harshly.

Shaking his head, Hobie stands up then he gives you a hand. “Not time travel,” you take his hand weakly, lifting you up, he worries for you. “Definitely from another universe. Come with me to the safehouse and we'll fix your watch, yeah?”

Nodding, you trust him completely. “Okay, just to remind you though, don't jostle me around too much—”

“You get motion sick from web swingin’, I know, I remember.” His heart aches, and you can see it hidden behind his hazel eyes.

—

After swinging across the city, and with you fighting the bile rising to your throat, you two finally make it to his safehouse that's masquerading as an old laundromat. You and older Hobie enter from the back door, and another door greets you, all thick steel and seemingly bullet proof.

He enters a set of codes on the numpad that you didn't notice until he was pressing numbers in. You don't bring out the fact that the passcode was your birthday.

The door beeps, an indication that it's unlocked. He looks at you over his shoulder, smiling softly at your nervous eyes.

“Stay behind me, yeah? Don't mind the lads. Or the whispers.”

“Whispers? Why would they gossip about me?”

“Nothin'” he turns back around. “Just stay close to me.”

“Okay, I wasn't planning to wander anyway, it looks like a small house so—” just as you say it, a long staircase leading down to what looks like the abyss makes you think otherwise. “Are you evil Hobie? You planning on bringing me to your little house of horrors to kill me?”

“Are you part of the sinister six?” He asks flatly, slightly enjoying the banter.

“No—”

“Then you've got nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Hobie continues to walk down the stairs, heavy boots thudding against the concrete with every footstep. Darkness surrounds him quickly, you could only see the outline of him under the dark. He notices the way you stay on top of the stairs, hands wringing together. “I've got a torch if you're scared—”

“Yes!” You exclaim too fast. “I mean, sure, yeah.” He doesn't tease, for that you silently thank him. You hear a click, and then a torch coming from a gadget on his arm lights the way. “Thanks,” you whisper, finally catching up with him.

The stairs lead you down further, with only Hobie's torch guiding the way, you subtly hold the hem of his vest. If he minded, he never said anything. Ears popping, another door greets you at the end.

Hobie knocks, a rhythm that you can't quite place. A panel on the door slides open, a pair of eyes roams over to Hobie's face and then to yours. Brown eyes widening at the sight of you, they close the panel, then they open the metal door with a creak. Light escapes from the opening, and you shield your eyes from the sudden brightness.

“Holy fucking shit,” a female voice exclaims. Their cadence is full of surprise, and somewhat breathless. “W-what— how?”

“She's not from here,” Hobie explains, almost sounding forlorn at his own words.

Your eyes finally adjust, and you see an older Yuri gawking at you. She has aged well and gracefully, you think, as she sports the lighter hair with confidence and wrinkles barely noticeable.

“Yuri?” You still ask even though you're ninety nine percent sure that it's her.

“The one and only, gorgeous.” Without thinking, she drags you inside, pulling you in for a hug. You heard her sniffle, and you felt how her shoulders relaxed just from the hug alone. So you let her embrace you, with your hand awkwardly rubbing in an attempt to soothe her. Pulling away, she holds you at arm's length. She pats your shoulder, smoothing your sleeves, “still gorgeous, and still unfair.” Snorting, she lets you go, turning towards your companion. “Gwen's been waiting for you.”

Hobie gets flung back to the present, the simple sight of Yuri hugging you has brought him to the past, back when everything was better.

You stare at him, and he knows there's a lot of questions swimming in that genius mind of yours. He nods once wordlessly, not trusting his own mouth to form coherent words right now.

You follow him just as he instructed, Yuri reluctantly lets you go. Your nails dig into your sweaty palms, and eyes restlessly looking around the safe house. The place is expansive, walls high up, and when you look down, you see weathered tiles that have cracked from time. There's a train track in the middle, and you realize it's an old metro station. Instead of advertisements and train schedules on the walls, you see several monitors hanging on it, thousands of wires running through all of them, beeping and buzzing coming out of the computers. There's also weapon racks littered around the place, large and something that looks like it came from a sci-fi film.

There's a lot of people running around, all clad in the same style as Hobie. Leather, chains and metal spikes all adorning their forms. You quickly look away whenever you pass a stranger who widens their eyes at the sight of you.

Tugging at Hobie's vest, you peer at him. “Why does everyone give me that same look? And who's Gwen?”

He doesn't stop his strides, “Gwen's a friend, she knows you, kind of.” He decides to tease you. Maybe it's his brain trying to compensate for the time he hasn't done it. “Why? You jealous? Green eyed monster rearing its ugly mug?”

You scoff with a playful smile. “Technically, I don't know you, so…” his smile wavers, “there's no way I'd be jealous. Also you're…old.” His smile returns, there's a question that suddenly pops in your mind. “Are we a thing here?” You suppose you should ask just to get it away, and this isn't even the same Hobie back home so you don't lose anything by asking.

His face flattens, something passes by his eyes and he turns away. “Don't worry ‘bout it.”

“That's not answering my question, or any of my questions—”

“Gwen.” Hobie passes by you without sparing you a glance.

He enters a large open space that is full of computers and screens that blink and beep. There's a dozen or so people that walk around the area, all looking frazzled and tired. It looks like a command center of some sorts. A stranger bumps into you, accidentally shoving you by your shoulder.

“Sorry, I—” The man stops in his tracks, it's Ned, or at least this universe's version of Ned. The wrinkles around his eyes and white hair says that he must've been the same age as this Hobie. The clipboard in his hand falls from his grasp, eyes wide and watery, he gasps. “Y/N—”

Hobie appears next to you, “yeah it's her, Ned.”

“B-but…she's—”

Hobie shakes his head, wordlessly having a conversation with his best friend. “We'll talk later, I promise.” He softens his voice. The interaction has you more confused. They have a stare down with you caught in the middle.

You give Ned an apologetic smile. Crouching, you take the fallen clipboard, giving it back to him. “Here, sorry for bumping into you.”

His hand trembles as he takes it. “It's okay, I gotta go.” Rushing, he leaves you and Hobie.

“Is he okay? Please don't tell me you're working him to the bone.” You scold him.

“No, you know I'll never do that.”

“Just like I said, I technically don't know you.” Exasperated from all the dodging Hobie has done, you walk away and towards the command center where a large table sits in the middle and in-between a huge screen.

Hobie has forgotten has stubborn you can be, following behind you, he can already see Gwen looking furious just standing next to the table, all menacing like.

“Hobie, what the fuck did you do?” The sudden angry tone makes your skin jump, kind of reminding you of your days back in school. “Have you finally lost your damn mind?” The blond woman gestures towards you.

There's red streaks in her braided hair, clothes perfectly suited to her form. She stands out from the rest, she looks sporty in her varsity jacket and white trainers. But of course she wears a pair of leather pants and an old band shirt that says ‘fuck getting fridged!’ You have no idea what that means.

Before she could blow a gasket, you explain yourself. “It's not time travel actually,” you say, voice faltering once you notice all eyes are on you. “It's interdimensional travel— on accident! I didn't mean to.”

Gwen crosses her arms over her chest, “you a spiderperson? Do you answer to Miguel?”

“No, not a spiderperson, just some idiot who made a huge mistake by trying to make her own watch because my best friend asked me to.” You take the broken watch from your pocket to place it on the table. “See? I broke it.”

“Your Hobie asked you to help him?” Older Hobie asks, you nod, his eyes flick over to you and then the bracelet. “Sounds like something I would do.” He whispers to himself.

“Wait, you don't have a watch on you anymore? Then—” Gwen starts but your glitching interrupts her.

It was only two seconds but you felt like your insides were being ripped apart, and your eyeballs were getting scooped out by a spoon. Heaving, hands gripping on the table for balance, you cough loudly as Hobie pats your back.

“Motherfucker—! That one was worse than the last one.” You almost choke on your own spit. “Goddamnit.”

“I was about to ask why you're not glitching, I guess I got my answer.” Gwen hands you a water bottle. “Here.” Turning towards Hobie, who's already picking apart the bracelet, she sternly calls for his attention. “What do you plan with her?”

“Fix her watch then let her stay because she's Y/N.” He nonchalantly says, lying through his teeth to rile up his already mad right hand woman.

“Your real plan, Hobie.” She taps her foot impatiently, you still wonder what his words meant. “We don't have the time or the resources to help her right now. Especially when our little machine still hasn't turned on.”

“Would you rather have her molecules ripped apart or spare a few parts so she could go home?” Hobie places his hands on top of the table, eyes narrowed, challenging Gwen. Whilst you take in his words. “Our main focus still hasn't changed, she's a guest and if we don't help her she will die.” Inhaling, he continues, “you heard her, she has someone to go back too. Someone who's lookin' for her. Do you really want him to experience that kind of—” he stops after feeling your eyes on him. He clears his throat. “We'll help her fix the watch, it'll take me a few hours to finish it and we'll still be on schedule for the attack.”

You set aside your oncoming demise to ask him about ‘the attack’. “Schedule for what?”

Gwen visibly relaxes from your gaze, you surmise that this universe’s you has history with her. “We're gonna take down Osborn once and for all.”

You knit your brows together. “You haven't done that yet?”

Gwen and Hobie blinks in surprise, intrigued, everyone else who wasn't already eavesdropping looks at you expectantly.

“What do you mean ‘haven't?’” Gwen asks, eyebrow raised.

“We already did that in our dimension a few years ago. I still have a few scars from it.”

Hobie cranes his neck towards Gwen, hazel eyes suddenly forlorn, shoulders heavy, and jaw tightening. “You succeeded?”

It all hits you, they've failed in where you and your friends have succeeded. You gained where they've lost, and you feel for their pain, you for*his suffering. You now know why he gave you that look the first time he saw you.

Composing yourself, even though your chest feels heavy, you still act as if their revelation doesn't bother you, when it has impacted you like you're the one who lost. “Y-yeah, I mean everyone helped a lot. I just did the best I can.” You scratch the back of your neck, “we had this thing that can cripple the symbiote inside his men—”

Gwen takes out a small circular device from her pocket. “Like this?”

You shake your head, “no, we just hooked a bunch of amplifiers around the area and Hobie and his band played really fucking loud. My ears ring just thinking about it.”

“Yeah we all know about them hating loud sounds but that didn't work for us before.” Gwen and Hobie's hopes are dashed. “And after all the tries, we stopped trying that method.”

“Why don't you guys ask for help with spider society? I'm sure—”

Hobie cuts you off, scowling at his feet. “I did, I asked for help. And what did that vampire from 2099 say?” He grows frustrated, knuckles shaking, eyes looking away from you. “He refused, saying that no one could intervene. That this was my canon event, and if anybody helped that it'll put the multiverse into dangerous territory.” Shaking his head, the man before shows up, and Hobie turns away from him. “It's bullshit, that's why I left.”

“We did find out why sound doesn't disable the symbiotes. Osborn made some kind of shield around them.” Gwen pipes up, shifting the conversation before Hobie gets angrier from the mere mention of Miguel.

“Like armor?” You ask.

“Yes, it's invisible to the naked eye. Thanks to Hobie, we finally found their Achilles heel. If only we could get this damn device to work then we'll be free of him and his regime.” She continues.

“Maybe I can help—”

“No,” Hobie quickly says, hurt in his eyes, he avoids yours. “No, I'll get your watch fixed up and you can go.”

“But I may be able to help—”

“No,” he emphasizes, with a shaky breath, he calls for Yuri. “Take her to the extra room,” instructing Yuri, she smiles at you apologetically. “Stay there until your watch is fixed.”

“She might be right—” Gwen starts but Hobie ignores her.

You glitch once again, stomach turning inside out, this time you feel like your skin is being ripped away. Eyes rolling on the back of your head, head spiralling. The next thing you know, you're laying on top of a hard mattress. Groaning, vision adjusting, you sit up carefully.

Your eyes adjust to the dim light hanging above, a single light bulb that swings from a draft seeping out of a crack in the wall. The room is small, barely even fitting the single bed. Walls of grey concrete surround you on all sides, there's a few posters on the walls that are tacked lopsidedly. They're all worn down, like they're older than you from the looks of the fading ink. A singular guitar sits at the corner, black and cherry red, hundreds of stickers are placed on it, adding to the roses that are painted all over it. It screams Hobie, but not your Hobie. Just sitting on his bed makes you miss him, even though you know they are not the same.

Stretching your aching neck from awkward angles it was put through because of the glitching, you spot a polaroid picture sticking out from under the pillow. You don't want to be nosy, but seeing your own face smile at you has you reaching for the photograph.

It's you, but not you exactly. Your face is the same, clothes you can't recognize. The only thing you can recognize is the way you hold onto Hobie. This universe's Hobie. Cheek pressed on his own, mirrored smiles on both your lips, his arm around your waist, pulling you close as if you'd fade away. And your arms enveloping around him like you're shielding him from harm. There's one detail that jumps at you with how yellowed the paper is and how crumpled the corners are, you're both incredibly young.

“Oh,” There had been signs, and this now confirms it.

You look at the steel door as if you had x-ray vision, as if you can see through it and see the Hobie that this version of you had loved once upon a dimly lit pub where the polaroid was taken.

Placing the picture back where you found it, you test your shaky legs. You make it two steps before you start glitching out, tumbling towards the door, forehead pressed on the cold steel, you heave dryly.

There's tears in your eyes when you open the door. Silence greets you, the air is cold and stagnant, the lights that were blinking at you earlier are now dim enough that you have to feel your way towards the concrete hallway and out into the warm light. Your hands glide along the almost frozen walls, rough sandy concrete hitting your palms like sandpaper. Footsteps quiet to not rouse the sleeping crew.

Finally making it out, lungs cool, and teeth chattering, you feel sicker by the minute. Hobie stands next to the large console, back towards you. Metals clicking and grinding against each other, Hobie doesn't look over his shoulder from your presence.

You knock on the wall to not startle him and ruin his work. Hobie finally cranes his neck to look at you, shoulders tensed and eyebrows knitted together in either frustration or concentration.

“You okay?” You ask, voice echoing in the vast room.

“I should be askin’ you that.” He goes back to the table, immediately tinkering.

“Well, are you?”

“You're stubborn.”

“My best quality.”

You hear him softly chuckle thanks to the silence hanging in the air. Walking closer, you smile at the sight of his rubber gloves that protect his hands.

“So?” You ask again.

“Never better.” He flatly says, eyes focused on putting your watch together.

“Why'd you leave the society?”

“Thought you were smart?”

“I am, and a consequence of that is being utterly curious.”

Hobie sighs but doesn't stop working. “Creative differences.”

“Ah, I knew it. You and my Hobie would get along well.” Your words trail off when you see the same spherical tech sitting next to him. “Is that the thing you can't figure out?”

He spares it a glance. “Yeah, the bane of my existence.”

You go around him to look at it closely. Eyes narrowed, arms tucked, you lean closer. “I think—” you grab it before Hobie could stop you. The glitching must've taken a toll in your critical thinking because you crack it open like an egg in your hands. “That's your problem.”

“What the fuck?” He says breathlessly, almost yelling, eyes wide, hands already grabbing the tech to fix it. “What is wrong with you?”

“Thin shell.”

“We've established that you have a thin skull—”

“Rude, but I'm talking about that.” You point at the sphere while Hobie's cradling it like a baby. “the shell is too thin,” you take half of it, pointing out its faults. “See? You need to make the shell a bit thicker, put a pressure plate so that—”

Hobie has a growing smile. “When it's thrown it automatically turns on. With the thicker shell it can withstand it and with it helps distribute the energy more evenly. Shutting all the shields down around its vicinity without needing to push a button.” His eyes widen with realization with every word he says that you already know of. “That way we can arm every rebel with a hundred of these and take down Osborn's venoms without risking close combat. Fuckin' brilliant.” He looks at you in wonder. Embarrassment flickers in his eyes, he should've thought of that, yet, he didn't. You might not be his Y/N but you're worthy of her name.

“Sometimes the easier solution is the best.” Your next sentence has your hands shaking, he notices. “Was your Y/N as brilliant as me?” You finally ask.

Hobie's cheery face falls, “She was smart, but not that brilliant. Her bravery makes up for it.”

“I'm sorry.” Tears stick to your lashes, heart aching for the man before you.

“You are curious.” After years without you, he still has no idea how to respond to those exact words. “How you feelin’?”

“Me?”

“Finding out a version of you is dead must be fuckin' weird.”

You shake your head. “I first thought that I'd see an old wrinkly me.” A half joke. You smile at him to make him feel better, but with how forlorn those hazel eyes are, you might've made it all worse. You weren't lying, you wanted to see a glimpse of your future, but finding out the version of you here is long dead doesn't compare to the feeling of losing someone you've known for years, loved even. “It's terrifying, but it doesn't compare to how hurt you must be. Losing her, I mean.”

He didn't see you grow old. He didn't experience growing old with you.

Hobie clears his throat, “I know you're not her.”

“And I know you're not him. But it looks like we both share the same feelings for them respectively.”

“That obvious?”

“Hobie once told me that in every universe there's always someone for Spider-Man. So yes, it's obvious.” You give him an empathetic smile. “How'd you know it's the same for me?” For us?

“You talk about him like how I talk about her. Takes one to know one, love.” He holds your hand briefly, like it was acting on an old instinct. “Have you told him? How much you're bloody smitten? I have a feelin’ you haven't.”

You nervously chuckle, hands fiddling with a loose screw on the table. “Nope.”

“Let me guess, waitin’ for the right time? Scared of what would happen in the long run?” He says knowingly.

You don't look him in the eyes. “Yeah.”

Something flashes behind Hobie's eyes, after a beat of silence, he finally speaks. “She died protectin’ my crew, did you know that? She died protectin' me, and how do I thank her? Years of failing, years of fighting and we've only come close but never winning in the end.” Hobie sniffs, head raised to look at the graffiti painted on the ceiling. “If i just told her that I loved her, I would've had more time with her. Instead, I was a coward, all those years wasted because I'm a coward.” Hobie finally looks at you, the warm light from the lamp lights the trapped tears in his eyes. “Don't wait for the right time.”

You shake your head, heart clenching at the sight. “I don't think all those years were wasted. You loved her quietly, and I think she did too. Time spent together isn't wasted, just like your silent love. Love is never wasted.”

He smiles softly, the resemblance of a younger Hobie is etched under the small smile. “You would know.”

“I would know,” you smile back. Trepidation hangs around your neck like a two ton steel necklace. “How would I know that he feels the same way? What if it doesn't work out? Or worse, reject me?”

“His loss,” Hobie grins, a genuine one that you haven't seen this version of him sport. It's the only thing you need for reassurance. “But I highly doubt that will happen.”

Nodding, you feel determination where the heaviness once resided. “I'll tell him when I get back. I promise.” You say wholeheartedly.

“You better, don't make the same choices I did.” Hobie holds your hands like how someone holds a feather, gentle and kind. “At least I got to see her one last time, eh, love? A bit younger but beggars can't be choosers.” You feel something heavy on your wrist. Looking down, you see a working watch. Hobie slyly put it on you, it even has your dimension already keyed in on the screen. You look back at him, mouth slightly agape. “Too much power, that was the problem. Sometimes the easier solution is the best.” You laugh at him using your own words against you.

“Thank you, do me a favour?”

“Tit for tat, huh?”

You giggle, then you face him seriously. “Crush Osborne. Fucking decimate him. Or I'll come back and bring the cavalry.”

Hobie's finger ghosts above the button. “You know where to find me, love.”

“And you know where I am.” You smile as the portal opens behind you. A gust of air breezes past you, eyelashes fluttering in the wind, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing on Hobie's face, illuminating his hopeful eyes. “I'm serious, if you need help—”

He slides his hands away from yours. “Go home, Y/N, your Hobie is lookin' for you.” With the mention of him, you give him one last smile for him to remember. You take a step back and fall back into the portal.

—

You fall unceremoniously on the wet pavement, body crashing on a pile of discarded boxes and metal trash cans. The crashing sound would've startled anybody and would have their attention, but no one seems to pay you mind as everyone stares at the ashy remnants of your flat. Groaning, you slap your forehead because of your stupidity. You feel relieved because you seem to be home. Everything seems to be in place, and everything seems to be normal.

“Fucking idiot.” You whisper breathlessly at the sight of your charred flat. Your relief gets washed away when you see Hobie in his suit kneeling down in agony whilst bystanders watch on in grief. Your eyes flick over to him and back to your flat, then back to him.

His shoulders are shaking, head in his hands, nails digging into his mask. You'd yell his name if not for the crowd. Instead, you walk to him, legs still wobbly but getting steady with every step. Soon enough, before you could make your presence known with your hand reaching for his shoulder, he moves his head so fast that you're afraid that his neck would snap. The eyes of his mask widens, standing up, he grabs you lightning quick.

Arms holding you close, you feel his warmth as he slides his hand to your pulse. Hobie sighs in relief, even laughing as he slots his face in the crook of your neck.

You mirror him, hands kneading on his back, telling him you're back and you're not going anywhere with the simple touch.

“I thought— where—?” he starts, but you press your lips on his cheek. He practically freezes in place even with his mask acting as a barrier.

“I love you,” you confess, just as promised, and truthfully. “I love you—!” In a half second after the words are uttered, he swings you both effortlessly on a rooftop, away from prying eyes.

Hobie steadies you on your feet, mask discarded in a heartbeat. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do.” You don't miss the sight of his tear stained cheeks. Your hands reach for him, thumbs rubbing softly on each cheek. “I love you, Hobie.”

“Good, then you don't mind me doin' this?” The warmth of his hand seeps through his gloves, that won't do, so he takes his gloves off to feel you. His bare hand is on your nape, the other is placed on your waist, fingers tapping on your skin lovingly.

You already know what he's asking. “Nope, not at all—”

With an inhale, he closes the distance, kissing you, taking your breath away.

You've fulfilled your promise.

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[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lvii - basic

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

"For fuck's sake," Hongjoong grumbled, huffing as he stood from his sitting position on the carpet, leaving Kijoong with his toys and Happy Tree Friends on. Hongjoong doesn't like him watching that but after the little misadventure Kijoong had, he figured he'd relent this once. After all, the disturbing cartoon was nothing compared to the incessant rap of knocks on his front door.

Before Hongjoong could get close, the door swung open and he almost jumped back in shock. It was not (just) because of the abruptness and booming sound, but it was also because he was met with the sight of you rushing in. His brain had barely processed the sight when you took off your shoes and pushed past him, barely sparing him a glance.

"Hey! Excuse me?" Hongjoong called out, his body moving in automation, trying to grab you to talk to you. But as his fingers graze the skin of your arm, you slapped his hand away and pointed a finger to his face (not the finger you preferred but it was fine), "Don't you even fucking start with me, Kim Hongjoong, I'll deal with you later because I have someone more important to tend to," you said, turning back to go to Kijoong. "Oh so NOW you crap on me to my face?" Hongjoong tried talking again but you didn't even bother to look back, "Bite me, asshole," you spat, surprising Hongjoong.

Hearing the commotion, Kijoong snapped his head to the sight and immediately dropped the toys in his hands when he saw you. "(y/n)!" He screeched before his bottom lip quivered and eyes water, his eyebrows furrowed and upon being pulled into your arms, he wailed loudly. It was obvious that Kijoong missed you dearly because he was holding onto your shirt and wrapped hid legs around your waist so tightly.

"Why 'y gone?" He cried out, hiccupping so pathetically that his face turned red.

You were no better.

At the sight of your little boy crying, your eyes watered and you couldn't help but feel your chest clench, in pain seeing him in such a state. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you pulled him back slightly but only managed to have his face pushed off of you, chuckling tearily as you pushed his hair back, "I'm so sorry for leaving you, buddy, I should have told you I went to see my dad," you apologized profusely but Kijoong kept crying and crying. "I-I-I look, I went and look," he said through sobs but you were able to understand what he was saying. "Yes, I know, I heard you went to look for me and you met my friend, huh?" You tried smiling but still, tears wet your cheeks as the feeling of longing and relief wash over you, "We need to talk about you running away without telling anyone but I am so so so so proud that you were not willing to just go with anyone even though they said that they were my friend," you pecked his forehead and cheeks multiple times which did not calm Kijoong down. You tried putting him back down on the floor but he let out a squeal of disapproval and instead buried his face on your shoulder. You had to calm him down and told him that you were not going to leave him again as you settle to sit on the carpet with the couch supporting your back and a koala strapped to your chest.

Neither you nor Kijoong realized that Hongjoong was watching the two of you closely yet from a distance. His heart hurt seeing his own son missing someone so bad that he just combusted into a teary mess and really, as if he hadn't blamed himself enough.

As much as he wanted to confront you and ask where you were, he knew he was in no position to do that, not when you and Kijoong were basking in each other, letting go of the longing and negative feelings. There was a twinge of jealousy in Hongjoong's chest but he was not about to admit that nor let it show. No matter how much he wanted to approach you and tell you how annoyed he was that you left without saying anything, how you two could've avoided the things that transpired in between so easily, but also how glad he was that you were okay, he simply couldn't let himself be selfish.

With a heavy heart and even heavier steps, Hongjoong quietly retreated to his room, sitting on his bed with his feelings and his heart beating in his palms heavily. He let his bedroom door open to allow the happy voices outside to fill the void of his room. But really, he was allowing himself to feel like he was a part of what was going on outside though he was alone. Due to his own action, yet again.

And it was bitter.

It made him bitter.

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[bunnliix]

The Invisible Strings that Bind Us - Chapter Nine

I'm finally back with Chapter Nine of this story, which honestly might be a lil angsty and sad once again, because y/n has to pack up her entire life back home so she can head back to her boys.

Also sidenote after writing this, I'm not sure I love this chapter, but I also wanted to get something out after not writing for this series for a while, so I may come back and rewrite this later on.

masterlist Pairing: OT8 Stray Kids x reader wc: 1.2k AU: Soulmates Genre: Fluff/Angst warnings: none! (I think) Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

Y/n had met her new bodyguards at the airport, as they had come to pick her up, her family having been too busy to do so. She directed them back to her home, taking a deep breath as she walked up to the front door, typing in the passcode and breathing a sigh of relief when the door unlocked. It seemed no one was home at that moment. She beckoned the two men to enter behind her, and to her surprise, neither of the family dogs started barking. The dogs only stared at her, tails wagging and happiness visible in the way they looked at her as she moved closer, coming up to say hello to them.

“Hi my loves, how are you both? I’ve missed you so so much!” Was all she was able to get out before she was smothered by the two dogs, almost being pinned to the floor in their excitement to see her.

At this time, one of the men received a call, quickly pulling out his phone and answering it.

“Hello sir. Yes we’ve arrived, and we’re currently at her house. You want to speak to her? Hold on, I’ll get her.” He responded to whomever was on the phone, before looking over at y/n. “Miss, Mr. Bang wants to speak with you.” He told her, motioning to his phone. 

Y/n took the phone from the man, holding it up to her ear and hearing the voice of her oldest soulmate.

“You’ve arrived safely?” He asked her immediately.

“I’m safe, Chris. I’m at my house, being smothered by my dogs.” She replied.

“Okay good.” She could hear him let out a relieved breath at her response. 

“Chris, why did you get so concerned?” She asked him.

“I always get worried whenever one of my loves is away, where I can’t protect you.” He told her as if it was common knowledge.

Her heart warmed at hearing how much Chris already cared for her, that he considered her one of his loves.

“Okay now that I know you’re okay and I’ve heard your voice, you should go ahead and get settled in so you’re able to start packing things. You can hand the phone back over now, okay babygirl?” He told her, though she was reluctant to let him go, wanting to talk with him further.

She handed the phone back over to the guard who had given it to her, before she headed down to her own room, bringing her bags with her. She dropped them quickly as she entered her room to see her bunny looking up at her, having heard all of the noise upstairs.

“Hi baby! Oh how I’ve missed you!” She called out to him, as she sped over to his cage, picking him up carefully, acting as if she hadn’t seen him in months, when in reality it had been maybe a week since she last saw him. Though really, the days were hard to keep track of sometimes, so who knows exactly how many days it had been.

The smile on her face was so large, it almost made her face hurt, but she couldn’t contain her smile and Jack greeted her, leaving tiny kisses on her nose and rubbing his chin wherever he could, making sure y/n knew her bunny loved her just as much as she loved him back. The two had a special bond, one that every animal and their owner had, and with Jack being around for so much of y/n’s life, she couldn’t imagine life without him.

She was so occupied with greeting and holding Jack that she hadn’t realized her two guards had made their way into her room as well.

She jumped a bit upon turning around and seeing them there. She however kept a tight hold on her bunny, not letting go of him despite her being frightened. 

“Sorry ma’am, we didn’t mean to frighten you.” They both said in unison.

“Don’t worry about it, I get scared easily.” She reassured them.

“We’ve ordered boxes for you to pack your items, and Stray Kids has a shipping company that will ship them back to Seoul.” She was informed, and put Jack back down into his cage before facing them.

“Okay. Thank you for doing that and letting me know. I’ll start making lists of everything that needs to be packed, so that this is all much easier to tackle.” She said, both to them and herself.

Y/n sat down on her bed, having grabbed a journal on the way over, and started writing down everything she would need to bring back with her, organizing it by categories. The lists were longer than she expected they would be, but she did have quite a few things, plus anything of Jack’s that had to be packed as well.

“When will the boxes be delivered?” She asked, looking up at the men.

“It should be tomorrow morning.” One of them answered.

“Okay. Since I’ve already figured out the logistics of visas and taking my bunny with me, the next step is to talk with my school about finishing my degree online. So, we’re heading to my school.” She informed them.

She put down her notebook and got off the bed, thanking everything that she had arrived in the early morning and that it was a weekday, so she could go to campus today and get it sorted. She quickly moved throughout the rest of the house, making sure she had everything she needed, plus checking that her dogs couldn’t get into too much trouble while she was gone.

“I’m ready to go.” She told the men, who nodded and followed her out of the house before they led her to the car once again. It thankfully was a quick ride to her university, where things were not as easy. She waited in the dean’s office while they checked her credit hours and to see exactly what else she needed for her degree, and if all of it could be done virtually. She was hoping this would be quick, but when were bureaucratic or academic matters quick?

It took a couple hours of emailing and calling professors and creating a plan for her to finish her final year abroad, but almost five hours later, she was walking out of the building with an email detailing the plan for her final year of university, and the knowledge that it was all sorted out. She was more than tired after that entire process, and y/n was more than ready to head back home and sleep the rest of the day away.

“Take me home please.” She asked her driver/bodyguard once she was in the car. Once she was safely buckled in, it was once again a quick ride back home. Once she arrived back home, she found that the house was no longer empty, as he parent’s car sat in the driveway.

‘Well, here goes nothing,’ she thought, as she entered the front door, dreading what her parents would say.

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[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 24- Taken(Yandere Rise Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: My birthday's in 8 days lol. This doesn't have anything to do with the fic, but I'm really excited because I get to take the day off and it's literally the day after Halloween. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: needles, kidnapping, me trying to write Leo differently, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 2017

Summary: Leo's heart's in the right place. It always was.

You shift in the chair you were tied to, familiar wooden structure being the same one used for Casey just a few months before. You never imagined yourself in it, especially not tied down. Your head was still spinning from the hard drugs going through your system, the sleep refusing to leave your mind as you fight to stay conscious even now. Leo stands in front of you, his shell against the door of his room. His eyes are cautious, a smile on his face that’s hiding the nervousness in his posture. Neither of you had spoken since you awoke, your mind too hazy to fully understand what was going on.

You try to move your arms again, looking surprised when they don’t come up. The rope dug into your skin, the ties much tighter than necessary to keep you still. Your lidded eyes turn back to Leo, your mouth opening then closing again as you try to speak.

“Why am I here?” You mumble out, your voice heavy and slurred. Leo taps his foot on the ground, not wanting to answer immediately. He seemed unsure, like he was still trying to justify to himself why you, his best friend, was tied to a chair in his room. You let your head fall back against the small bit of wall Leo was able to push you against, your eyes closing again as you try to convince the sleepy feeling to fade. The haze in your mind was slowly dissipating, but it was taking too long for your liking.

“You got hurt.” Leo finally answers, making your head perk up to look at him. You blink slowly at him, trying to decipher what he meant. You look down at your legs, seeing the dark bruises still papered over them like a toddlers attempt at painting. Each one was mottled and ugly, dark stains upon your skin. In this moment, you could barely remember where they had come from, only small instances of people crying your name coming to mind. You look back up at Leo, still uncertain how the bruises tainting your legs(and your arms from the feel of it) contributed to you being here.

Leo seems to understand the look of confusion you shoot him, his soft smile turning into a reserved frown. He taps the floor with his foot for a minute, the cogs behind his eyes turning as he comes up with a way to explain his reasoning while keeping you calm.

“You almost died yesterday,” Leo starts, his voice pained. He pushes off the wall and walks towards you, sinking to his knees as his hands rest on yours. You feel him rub the exposed skin of the back of your hand, your glassy eyes, staring down as you try to remember what he was talking about. Yesterday was a blur to you, only faint words and pain being the placeholders for that day in your mind. Leo swallows, his hands squeezing yours. “I’m not going to risk losing you like that ever again. So you’re staying here.”

Leo’s lips pull back into a small smile, ignoring your stunned face. “It’ll be fun! Like, a permanent sleepover. I’ll teach you how to properly skate, you can have whatever side of the bed you like, and you’ll get to eat Mikey’s great cooking every day. It’s not so bad.”

You stay quiet, just staring down at Leo as his smile slowly drops again, his brow line scrunched in worry. One of his hands moves to cup your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek while he softly coos at you. You weren’t sure how to feel about this, half of you feeling it to be a cruel prank while the other… His eyes were too genuine to be fibbing, and he’d never do something like this as a prank. Not to you.

“Leo?” You mumble, blinking slowly at him as the fog slowly starts to seep out of your brain. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. Leo’s touch burned rather than comforted, but you couldn’t even move away. “What’s going on? I don’t like this.”

Leo lets out a slow breath, still rubbing your face. He looked agitated at your words, but was still holding a soft patience for you. You couldn’t help but be upset, knowing he was treating you like a helpless child. “I know. I know, but you have to listen to me. I’m… You don’t get a choice in this. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

Leo’s face is one of pity, like this really was something he felt was a hard but necessary thing to do. You move in the chair, hissing as the fibers of the rope dig into your skin. Leo frowns, moving from a kneel to a bowed stand as he steadies your shoulders to get you to be still. Your face scrunches up into hurt and fear as the situation starts to weigh down on you, your eyes glistening with panicked tears that weren’t ready to fall.

"How can you do this to me? I thought you were my friend!" You say, your breathing getting more and more panicked as you struggle. This was insane, Leo was insane. 

Leo frowns, his hands cupping yours as he forces you to be still from the shock of the sudden touch. His eyes bore into yours, his determined gaze unyielding. “We are friends. I’m doing this for you. Don’t you know how much I love you? How much I care?”

You whine and look away, not liking how pathetic you felt in the moment. Your brain searches for something to say, for something to get him to drop the act and let you go.

"What if someone did this to Mikey?"

Leo scoffs, a near laugh coming from his mouth as his head tilts back. He’s grinning one more, finding you amusing. You felt sick with how much it reminded you of just last week, back when you didn’t even know this was brewing just under the surface. Leo lets his grin spread lazily across his face, his posture more relaxed while he continues to caress your cheeks like he was in a trance. "Mikey would never be in this situation. Plus, if he was, he’d escape and then we’d kill whoever tried." 

"So you admit this is wrong?" I point out, hoping he would now realize how hypocritical he was being.

Leo chuckles again, squashing your wishful thinking. He lets go of your face once more, pushing up on his knees as he stands up. “Nope! I know what I’m doing. Plus, you’re here because I love and care for you, not because I want to do something bad to you. You’re safe here.”

You stay quiet, staring at him in disbelief. He was deluded, so far into his own world of wants that he doesn’t even realize his own injustice. You thickly swallow, trying to keep calm. It was Leo, Leo was reasonable. You just had to reason out of this. “But what about my family? My life? School, work, and everything I’ve been doing since, well, forever? I can’t just leave all of that behind.”

Leo scowls, rolling his eyes. He sits on his bed, starting to take off his arm and leg wrappings. “You don’t need any of that anymore. You have me. You love staying here, I’ve heard you talking to April on how much you hate school and wished you could stay with us anyways.”

Leo looks over at you with a smug grin, feeling proud of having you here with him. You don’t meet his eyes, the situation fully weighing down on you as your breathing stops for a moment. “I just went ahead and made the decision for you.”

You stay quiet. With Leo’s words and his pattern of stubbornness, you knew you weren’t getting out of this without a fight. With a shaky breath, you try again, hoping maybe you could bypass his heart and get to his brain. You just wanted to go home. “I can’t stay here, Leo. What’s Splinter going to say? Your brothers. They won’t let you keep me here against my will.”

Leo chews on his cheek, unsure how to answer. He meets your eyes, pained at the fear and worry that swells through them, but he doesn't crack. This was for you, and he would stand by that until he died. Everything was for you. “They won’t be a problem.”

Your mind instantly goes to the worst, your face falling as you gape at him. Your mouth flaps a couple times, the rope around your chest seeming to constrict even more of your breath. Your voice is airy, fear being the only thing that pushes it out. You couldn’t fathom him hurting his family, but his words didn’t give the mind much to work on other than that. “What did you do to them?”

Leo looks surprised at the question, then his face hardens. “Do you think I’d hurt my family? Is that what you think of me?”

Leo scowls, getting off the bed and heading over to a small desk with a tray of medicine and needles balanced on top of it. Your face blanches at the sight of the needles, your hands shaking as you sink into yourself as much as you can. Leo glances at you, noticing your growing anxiety, but says nothing. The smile on his face makes your heart freeze, suddenly realizing he was enjoying this. Your fear, your worry, the panic coursing through your veins. All of it was feeding into his delusion of you being the helpless darling for him to save.

Leo sticks the syringe into a small glass, sucking up whatever liquid it contained. Despite your shaking and fear, you couldn’t look away. All focus was stuck on the thing you feared, the glint of the needle making your heart hammer against your ribs. Leo continues on, not seeming to mind you panic. His gaze flickers to you for a moment, a soft smile forming that you assumed was meant to be comforting. “Sorry about this, I know you hate needles. But I really don’t want to argue the rest of the night, and pills take thirty minutes to kick in. I’ll be quick, I promise.” 

He sets the vial back on the tray, the needle loose in his hands as he walks over to you. You start to scream, completely hysterical while you rock the stationary chair. Pure adrenaline rushes through your veins, unable to calm yourself down from the one thing you knew Leo was aware you were scared of. You were certain he was doing this on purpose, his satisfied smile making you sob while he rolled you your sleeve and cleaned a small patch on your arm with an alcohol wipe.

His hand wraps around your bicep, keeping you from jerking away while he carefully inserts the needle into your arm. Your mind reels, focused completely on the needle and the intrusion in your skin as you bawl. Leo finishes the injection and puts a bandaid on your arm, smiling cheekily at you despite the trust and boundaries he just stomped on. You don’t look at him, slumping in the chair while your sobs wrack your body. He calmly stands up, crossing the room while setting the syringe back onto the tray and disposing of the needle in a small red box.

Your vision swims, the room fading and your cries quieting. Leo breathes out in relief, glad to see you calming down. He watches you fight the drug, knowing you’d succumb to it soon enough. You were so much easier to talk to when you couldn’t think. “Goodnight dear, we’ll try again when you’re calmer.”

His voice echoes through your head as you go limp, the world disappearing and mind sinking through the floor of your head. Your cries cease and Leo’s left with your sleeping self once more, his mind already coming up with a million different ways to convince you of your place by his side.

[gloomzi]

THIS MAY BE BASED OFF A SAM C AI BOT I TALKED TO BUT OML ILL LOVE TO SEE YOU WRITE IT

This will take time after Sam escapes and is in readers dorm.

The reader ends up taking Sam out to a local place like Walmart because earlier Sam said he wanted to get out for once a be a normal person. But the reader wasn't one to get out themselves or evening party, so they did the best they could. Take sam to Walmart. Once arriving the reader pulls out a shopping cart, looking over at sam with a half smile "wanna get in and I push you around?" Which leads sam being pushed around a Walmart in a shopping cart by the reader. So they takes him down different isle with the frozen snacks, spicy chips, drinks, etc and this kid looks like he is in mfing disney land but the characters are actually the characters.

(I ended up taking sam to the toy isle and he picked out a monster high doll and I educated him on the lore to which he picked frankine. Boy got taste)

waaah thank u for the request! sry it took longer than expected, shit just kept coming up in my life TvT but regardless i hope u enjoy it!

WORD COUNT 2622

WARNINGS is primarily fluff but ends on a bit of a hurt/comfort note (sry), prose heavy

Ever since Sam had started staying in your dorm, he had been asking to go out and do something normal for once—nothing big, just something to get him out of the building, like grocery shopping or going to a party. Something where nobody would be paying attention to the people around them or would be too drunk to remember anyways.

Unfortunately for him, you were a bit too paranoid about your current predicament to want to bring him out in public—you wished that you could, but you knew all too well the lengths others would go to to hurt Sam, to bring him back to the woods, and you didn’t want to risk that—and you didn’t really have friends that were the partying type anyways. Or well, not anymore. Not since that last party where Andre nearly killed someone and Marie was almost expelled.

So, that left you with two options: keep telling Sam no while he gets more and more frustrated at being stuck in your cramped dorm room with little entertainment, or drive him far enough out of town that there was a decreased chance of him getting caught. 

You chose the latter.

As soon as you came back from classes that Friday, you were throwing an oversized hoodie at the boy and a plastic package containing black face masks, “C’mon Sam, we’re going on a trip!”

He was ecstatic, immediately dropping whatever it was he was holding—upon second glance you realized it was a few of your minifigs, embarrassing—to get dressed.

Seeing him struggle to change into his not so stellar disguise, you giggled, helping him tug the edge of the hoodie off his elbow where it had been stuck and over his stomach, flattening the fabric for him before handing him a cheap pair of readers off your desk and the masks which had fallen to the floor.

“Ground rules, Sam, okay? We’re going to be heading out of town, but until we cross town lines you have to keep all of this on, got it? And when we get there you can’t leave my side, you gotta stay where I can see you.” You said, watching as he slipped on the glasses, which were, admittedly, a bit silly looking on him, but it was endearing in a way.

Sam nodded quickly, grinning down at you, “Yeah, yeah, of course! Whatever you say!” Sam paused, tearing open the packaging on the masks before looking back up at you, “Where are we going again…?”

You chuckled, turning on your heel to switch your school bag out for a smaller one, stuffing your necessities in it, “Walmart, honey. You been before? When you were younger maybe?”

Sam hummed, thinking for a second before shrugging, “I mean, probably…the name sounds familiar, but I don’t really remember.”

You found that Sam didn’t mind talking about stuff he remembered from before The Woods or Sage Grove Center, in fact he usually recalled those times fondly, but his memory seemed pretty spotty before then.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged back, “Ready to go?” You held out a hand for him to grab, tugging your bag onto your shoulder with your other hand.

Sam nodded, smiling softly and taking your hand, allowing you to lead him out of the building and to the parking lot. 

Not many students on campus had cars, you yourself having only got one from your parents which you pay them back for monthly, meaning it was fairly easy to find where you had parked earlier in the week. Your car was on the older side, nowhere near glamorous—the thing didn’t even have an aux cord, so CDs were practically your life line now—but it ran well enough and you kept it clean and nicely decorated, from bumper stickers to stuffies in the backseat.

Sam peaked in the window, seemingly intrigued by the unreasonable amount of plush toys taking up space, but quickly snapped out of it when you pulled open the passenger door, waving him in.

You rounded the car quickly, hopping in and starting it up so you could show Sam how the radio worked and help him readjust his seat until he was comfortable.

“See, you can pull this thing right here backwards or forwards to bring your seat closer or further away from the dash, and if you pull this other one behind it it’ll adjust the back of your seat to recline more.” You guided him, holding your hand over his to make sure he felt where everything was, “And if you want to change any of the CDs, I keep all of mine right here in the center console, you just need to hit this eject button here to take out one and then the load button to put in the new one!”

Sam nodded along, asking questions about your CDs and which ones you liked best, fiddling with the volume to hear better before settling on one.

“Alright, ready to go now? Seatbelt on?”

“Yeah, let's go!”

Pulling out of the parking lot, you and Sam talked lightly, him mostly staring out the window and asking questions about the town and little stores you passed while you focused on driving, answering with fond amusement.

The drive was a bit longer than you were used to making, but you had to get out of town, so you knew it would be at least an hour, CDs seeming to come and go faster than you remember them being, though you guessed it might have something to do with Sam being there to talk over them.

By the time you had made it to the Walmart Sam had changed out of his sad excuse for a disguise, the hoodie being thrown into your backseat in favor of just wearing a white long sleeve with a graphic tee over it, glasses tucked into your sunglasses compartment and mask shoved into your glovebox. Both of you were getting a bit hungry at this point, so you felt relieved to see there was a Dunkin inside the Walmart as well, ordering you and Sam some hash browns and a vanilla bean coolatta to split.

Just based on his reaction you could tell he wasn’t used to having anything as sweet as that drink, his lips puckering as his eyes went wide, “Jesus christ, this shit must be loaded with sugar!”

“Oh yeah, that’s why we’re splitting it, I’d get sick otherwise,” You laughed, “You like it though, right? If not, I can buy you something else.”

“No, no, it’s really good! I like it!”

You hummed in acknowledgement, starting to walk towards the carts, knowing Sam would follow. Grabbing one of the large carts, you tapped the side, “Wanna get in? I’ll push you around.”

Sam’s eyes lit up, as he practically bounced up to the cart, “Hell yeah!” He cheered, throwing a leg over the side, cart wobbling lightly as you tried to hold it steady before he finally fell the rest of the way in, drink held in the air to keep it safe.

You giggled, holding your hand out for the drink so you could take a sip before handing it back to him, “Do you want to get some snacks for the dorm first? Anything you want as long as it’s not ridiculously expensive.”

Sam nodded, sipping on the drink once more with a small smile. He looked like a kid on Christmas, eyes lit up as he looked at practically every item you came across, trying to decide whether or not he liked the sound of different chip flavors and microwave noodles.

Maybe I should just get him one of those mini stoves that plugs into the wall…does he even know how to cook though? Probably not. You thought, rolling the cart into the drinks aisle and grabbing a case of water bottles.

“Hey, do you know how to cook?” You asked, starting to push the cart again. You had cleared all the food aisles, so now you just needed to grab him some clothes and maybe check out the toy aisles too. You always liked looking for figurines and board games in there, Sam would probably like that stuff too if you had to venture a guess.

“Sort of? My mom taught me simple stuff when I was younger.”

You nodded, “I can show you how to do some other stuff then, I’ll just have to get you something to cook with in the dorm.”

“Thank you…” Sam muttered, pursing his lips like he had more to say, but decided against it. You didn’t push. If Sam really wanted to say something, he’d say it in due time.

Finally arriving in the men’s section, you pushed the cart to the side, motioning for Sam to get out. He looked confused, but got out anyway, clambering over the side with about as much grace as a baby deer.

“You’re gonna have to try stuff on or at least hold it up to your frame to make sure it fits,” You said.

“Ohh, okay.” He said, putting the coolatta down in the cart’s baby seat.

For the next few minutes you watched him pick out clothes and hold them up to himself, pulling them on over his own shirt occasionally, but mostly just sizing up if he was unsure. He didn’t seem too picky, but you could tell he liked the more colorful patterns, only picking up darker clothes for “outings”, as he kept referring to them. He even picked up a few anime shirts, asking if you were familiar with the shows and if they were any good before deciding to just get a Naruto shirt anyways, thinking the design was cute, which got a hearty laugh out of you.

You made sure he picked out some sweaters and sleep clothes as well, boxers and socks, a few pairs of jeans and a pair of sturdy shoes, since his old ones were pretty beat up. The perks of working a part time job while having only a couple expenses meant you could pretty much splurge on him all you wanted and thank god for that, you didn’t know if you had the heart to say no to him.

After he had been satisfied with all his selections he had climbed back into the cart, pushing the growing pile of stuff around until it surrounded him like a nest of clothes and food.

“Do you want to check out the toys now? Or maybe some books?” You asked, lightly pushing him through the rows between the aisles. You figured you would be passing the section anyways and you had caught him reading once or twice in your room, maybe he’d want something newer.

“Could we do both? I think I’ve read through most of your collection already and Emma doesn’t have anything that isn’t from 2013 or earlier,” He groaned.

You huffed a laugh, smacking at his shoulder, “Just because Emma is reliving her YA fantasy doesn’t mean you get to shit on her taste!”

Sam whined dramatically, rubbing his shoulder as if you had actually hurt him, “Owww, careful or I’ll never even make it to the books!”

“‘Owww, careful’,” You mocked, snorting, “go pick out a book you menace!”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he climbed back out of the cart, perusing the aisle, muttering to himself about each book. 

As he looked at the books you watched fondly, leaning against the cart until he was finished debating and set two thick hardcovers into the growing pile of items surrounding the empty spot he quickly climbed back into.

“To the toys!” Sam whooped, fist pumping the air as you pushed off in the direction of the aisle. 

You giggled, ruffling his hair, “To the toys!”

As soon as the aisles of toys came into view Sam was practically throwing himself out of the cart, tripping over his shoes until he was picking up a couple Barbie dolls, looking them over with excitement, “How many can I get?”

“How about we look at everything and then you pick out a few, okay? I can always get you more if you want.”

Sam nodded, beginning to saunter down the aisles, not checking to see if you were following as he picked things off the shelves to inspect before putting them back. After what was probably 10 or so minutes he started going back through the aisles and making his final selections, at which time you decided to actually look at some of the games and cheaper action figures.

By now you were pretty confident he wouldn’t wander off so you didn’t mind turning your back to him, grabbing a couple packs of cards to replace ones that had been ruined by a drunk Jordan months ago.

Shuffling a bit to the side you crouched down to check out some of the board games, tracing your finger over the price strips as you checked each one. Just as you pulled out one of the monopoly boards you heard Sam’s voice from across the aisle, anger clearly laced into his words, though he was quiet enough that you couldn’t make out the whole sentence.

Standing slowly, you padded over to the boy, making sure you were loud enough that he heard you approaching before you crouched at his side, a hand sliding over his back to squeeze at his shoulder, “You good?”

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders wracking as he exhaled before a small no fell from his lips, the plastic packaging on the doll he was holding creasing under his hold.

“Did you want her?” You asked softly, your other hand sliding over his wrist softly to ease the toy out of his grip. It was a Ghoulia doll. 

Sam nodded shakily, letting you take the doll and place it in the cart before you went back to help him up, “You wanna go now?” You asked softly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to give him the choice rather than just saying you were leaving. He was quick to nod. 

“Let’s go through self checkout then, okay?”

Sam nodded once more, shuffling to stand by you, one of his hands looping around your arm as you started to push the cart.

You weren’t exactly surprised the trip was ending like this, Sam was still easily overwhelmed by new things, not to mention his still untreated illnesses. It wasn’t the first time you had taken him out to buy something and he had been triggered or had a hallucination, but you didn’t mind helping him through it in any way you could. He still needed to get out sometimes, if not for him to start to readjust to normal society outside The Woods, then for him to pick out his own things. You didn’t want him to keep living like a prisoner who didn’t even get his clothes anymore, let alone a choice in his dinner or snacks.

As soon as you got to the self checkout Sam let go of your arm, letting you ring up everything and bag it as he watched in relative silence, tugging at strands of his hair in an attempt to self regulate. Once you had finished paying, you were quick to lead him back to the car.

Just as you were pulling open his door, you just barely caught the sound of him speaking, his voice wavering, “‘M sorry, (Y/N).”

Shaking your head, you reached up to cup the side of his face, tucking his hair behind his ear, “You did good, Sam, really. There’s no need to be sorry, these things happen. Let’s just get home now, okay?”

[yumeiyokobatsuu]

Hello! Are you accepting requests?

If you are could I request some fluff for Bon and Yukio please?

I was thinking about them seeing their crush cry of worry for them, like they did something dangerous or almost died and their crush gets so angry and worried they cry, please?

I hope I made sense! Thank you!

Hello! Thankyou for requesting! (Even if I am only responding almost a whole year later-)

Warnings: none

WC: 866

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ryuji Suguro

-This one will take place after everyone finds out Rin is the son of Satan because why not?

-He see's you crying in the doorway of his medical room as he is getting his wounds patched up

-Your trying to play it off as if you aren't crying even though its painfully obvious

-Once the medic moves away he beckons you over to comfort you and let him know he's there and alive

I stood in the doorframe of the small room Ryuji sat in, an exorcist with a doctor Meister tending to his wound's caused by Amaimon, I knew he was able to hold himself in a fight, but witnessing what Amaimon had done to him and so easily. I grabbed the edge of my sleeve as I remembered the fight. I could have lost him, so so easily in that second, and yet he pulled through all thanks to Okumura, even if he is the son of Satan, I had to thank him. I snapped out of my trance when I felt wet tears running down my cheek, I let out a sniffle and quickly wiped them away, I wanted to be strong for Ryuji, I didn't want him to see me crying, not now, besides death was common in our field. I knew I should expect for one of us to die but it still hurt to think about. I watched as the doctor finished up with Ryuji and moved away from the doorframe so she could exit. I stared at Ryuji, trying to stop anymore tears from falling.

Ryuji stared back at me, his gaze soft unlike the hardened one he wore around campus before giving a small "Hey" to me and opening his arms a bit, inviting me for a hug. I rushed into his arms immediately, choking out a sob. "Hi" I responded through them. I felt him gently rub circles into my back. "I could have lost you" I mumbled into his chest.

He let out a hum of acknowledgment. "I know. But I'm here and alive. Do you really think I cant hold myself against a demon k-" He said confidently before noticing a small glare I gave, he sighed upon noticing that it was not the best time to stroke his own ego.

Ryuji left a soft kiss upon my forehead. "I'm sorry for worrying you (Y/N). I wont be leaving you anytime soon. You're stuck with me" he whispered, pulling my head closer into his chest. I listened to his heartbeat as he played with my hair.

Yukio Okumura

-Oh boy does he piss you off

-He continues pushing himself???? while injured???? after nearly dying????

- What the fuck is wrong with him???

-You have to genuinely force him into resting so he can heal

-Sit on him to keep him down

-He feels guilty upon seeing you cry all because he nearly died and wont let himself rest

"Yukio please! You're still healing! Hell you have hardly started healing!" I yelled at him, watching him struggle to put on his school jacket. "I appreciate your concern (Y/N), but I'm perfectly fine to continue going to school whilst injured" He said, dismissing your concern's for his health. You clench your fists together "That's bullshit and you know it!" you yelled again at him. "(Y/N) I will not continue fighting you with this, I'm fine" He said, completely calmly and that only pissed you off further. Right before he had the time to leave the room you grabbed onto his wrist, flinching a bit upon realizing you grabbed his wounded wrist and pulling him backwards. "Then don't fight me. Just let me take care of you! What happens if one of your stitches reopen because your pushing yourself too hard." I said. 

I felt Yukio begin to move his hand away from mine, and I took that chance to drag him to his bed and gently push him down, and straddling his legs.

"Your staying home. Right here. In your bed." I said to him.

"(Y/N)-" He started before looking at me properly.

Tears brimmed my eyes, I was trying not to blink so they didn't fall, however the fact I was looking down at his chest didn't help and only allowed them to fall faster. 

"You're a fucking dumbass Yukio. I nearly lost you. You got impaled for fucks sakes! I still can lose you if you don't rest!" I choked out a sob before continuing, my voice shaky. "So please just lay down, let me take care of you" I whispered as I lowered my face onto his chest, as a way to beg him to take care of himself and take a break, his shirt slowly becoming wet due to my tears soaking it. I felt him let out a sigh and intertwine our hands together, his other hand going on top of my head "Fine. But only for a few days" He said. "No. For the entire time the doctor recommended." I quickly said in response, looking up at him, taking in a breath as I tried to control my tears. He stared at me before sighing once again. I moved off of him to ensure I did not hurt him bringing him to the bed, knowing I had won.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Apologies for taking so long to reply! The reason is on my page somewhere ^w^.

My asks are open so request away!

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 15

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: It's your first day back at training.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 656

I Hope You Leave A Scar

A few days later you're feeling much better and decide to go down to the gym for a little work out hoping to find a partner to train with, as you refuse to ask Kamala for fear of hurting her, or fear of her swiftly kicking your ass. You put on some of your old clothes for the first time and begin to feel more like yourself.

When you arrive you find the place to be completely empty, you're about to relent and get to work on a punching bag when you hear someone walk in, "Need a partner?" says a soft, captivating voice, you turn around slowly to look at its owner, putting your guard up immediately.

"You're not seriously suggesting I train with you," you scowl.

"Come on, you hate that thing." Carol points at the bag.

"I don't hate it, it's fine," you try to lie.

"It will never get close to the real thing," she responds, quoting your exact thoughts. You walk towards her carefully, looking her in the eye.

"No powers, two out of three falls, do not try anything funny."

"Deal." There's a slight smirk on her face.

It only takes her 30 seconds to take you down the first time, you chug it up to being cold still, you get up and go again. This time you manage to get a hit in first, one punch to the abdomen and a kick on the shin to take her down.

You're clearly reaching the end of your stamina, having been through major surgery and no training for the past months, Carol notices and starts discreetly letting down to make the moment last longer, you feel like she knows your every move before you even think about it, it's almost like a dance you learned a long time ago and can no longer remember, but your body can follow it perfectly.

You start to get too in your head and she takes the opportunity to flip you over and land you on your back, your hoodie flying off in the process. She straddles your waist to keep you pinned down, both of you pant heavily. She stares at your face for a moment too long, your brain is urging you to push her off, but your heart hasn't felt so at ease since you woke up from the ambush, so you let her be.

Her gaze turns to horror when she goes from your eyes to your arms, finding all the bruises and burns that adorn them, "Did I do this?" she whispers as she traces them down ever so gently, you remain silent, "I’m so sorry, angel."

As she's tracing your arms up again she follows all the way to your neck, finding a big, nasty scar there, she doesn't dare touch it, "Did I do this, too?" Her voice is shaky.

"Depends how you look at it," you murmur.

"It's from the ambush," she states, you can only look at her shyly, "what did they do to you?" There is fear and concern in her words.

"No worse than what you did to me." You finally find it in yourself to get her off of you, get up, and leave.

You go back to your room to take a shower, when you get out you find Kamala lounging on your bed, "You look worse than when I left you," she teases.

"Thought I'd check out the gym."

She eyes you skeptically, "That doesn't look like the work of a punching bag."

"Your Captain thought it would be a good bonding activity. She kicked my ass, again," you explain humorlessly and join Kamala on the bed. “She called me 'Angel,’ is that my codename?"

She snorts, "It's your pet name."

"What do you mean?" You look at her with confusion.

"If you have to ask, you don't get it," she sasses you, knowing it's not her place to explain further.

Chapter 16

Kamala spending all her time in R's room is just my favorite.

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @unicorniusfallapatorius @prplepeony @eringranola

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

[hischierswhore]

drunk calls

pairing: Christian Pulisic x Reader

TW: mentions of alcohol // drinking // mentions of a breakup

Your break up with Christian, your boyfriend of 2 years, definitely took a toll on you. You isolated yourself from the outside world, preferring to stay in the comfort of your home, not wanting to risk being hurt again. You found yourself thinking about him, even after a month. In fact, you've only been able to think about him since the moment he walked out the front door of your apartment.

And that brings us here: you're sitting in bed, staring blankly at your laptop as your mind drifts back to when you last saw his gorgeous smile...and wondering how in the hell things got so screwed up between the two of you.

When did everything go wrong? How could it be possible for you and the love of your life to become nothing more than strangers after everything you'd been through together?

As you think, the clock ticks away over on the wall, reminding you that it is now almost 2 am. What was supposed to have been an easy evening at home with just a little bit of internet browsing turned into hours spent dwelling on what went wrong between the pair of you.

-

"Y/n, I'm telling you. You need to go out and stop torturing yourself" your friend Sadie says in exasperation as she sits down beside you on your sofa.

"I know it hurts, but you can't live like this forever" For a moment, you let out a pitiful groan, burying your head in your hands, causing your friend to put her arm around you, giving you a comforting hug.

"It just doesn't make any sense. We loved each other" You say as you lift your head to stare directly at your closest confidant, needing to see her face for some sort of reassurance.

"I know you loved him, but he broke your heart, Y/n. There's no going back from that" She replies with her own personal version of sympathy, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear.

"How about we go out tonight?" She suggests quietly, resting her chin upon your shoulder. Her suggestion makes sense; you don't want to sit alone at home while you replay the whole situation again and again in your head.

"We can find a club, get drunk, dance all night long..." She starts, but you don't let her finish her sentence before you're nodding your head in agreement. The very thought of doing something as pointless as drinking until you feel numb seems strangely appealing right now.

"Great idea, come on, lets go!" You both stand up from your seats, making your way to your bedroom to get dressed.

-

As you and Sadie entered the club, you both made a beeline for the bar. Tonight would be a good night to start getting drunk. If you were honest with yourself, you just wanted to forget all about Christian and drown your sorrows in alcohol.

At least, that's what you hoped.

You took your first sip of a dark red wine, savouring the taste and feeling it run smoothly down your throat, before taking another sip. Sadie drank two glasses of wine before calling it a night, stating that she was the designated driver for the pair of you. You, on the other hand, decided to push the envelope a little more, ordering 2 more drinks at the bar, downing them almost immediately.

You couldn't remember the last time you felt this free, having gotten completely hammered on just 3 drinks. At times, the lights seemed to turn on their side, spinning dizzyingly as they circled the room, accompanied by flashing colors of purple, orange and green.

The rest of the night was a blur. You vaguely remember Sadie telling you that she was leaving to go hookup with some dude she met at the bar, abandoning you at the club, drunk and alone.

After another hour, you decided you wanted to leave, so you turned on your phone and scrolled through your contacts and tapped on the one you were most used to calling.

Christian.

"Pick up pick up pick up" You drunkenly mumbled to yourself.

"Y/n???"

"Oh my god, heyyyy. Your voice is like, really hot right now"

"Y/n... you sound drunk...where are you?"

"What do you mean where am I? I'm at a club with Sadie. Duh." You mumbled, before taking a deep breath.

"Well, Sadie left to go get some, but I'm still here. You know, enjoying the vibes" Your speech was slurring as you spoke.

"Y/n, I know you're probably drunk off your ass right now, but please stay right where you are. I'm coming to get you" You sat in silence for a few seconds before realizing he had actually hung up.

-

Less than 5 minutes later, Christian had arrived at the club. He only knew which club you were at because that was the only club you liked going to. He jumped out of his car and raced inside to find you. As he cut through the crowds, he saw you sitting on one of the leather couches. He let out a breath of relief as he approached you.

"Hey sweetheart" His warm voice pulled you from your thoughts of the different colors you saw floating throughout the club. It felt as though you had sobered up almost instantaneously just by hearing his voice.

He pulled you up gently, placing his hands under your armpits and supporting your weight against his chest, carrying you out of the building. As he stepped outside onto the sidewalk, he placed you into the passenger seat. He sat behind the wheel of the car, glancing over at you before beginning his drive.

"Drink this. It'll help" He handed you a bottle of water to help you sober up.

"So what exactly were you doing at a club with Sadie?" He cleared his throat before speaking, leaning forward slightly in his seat to gaze through the windshield.

"Trying to forget" you replied honestly, keeping your eyes focused ahead of you while slowly drinking the water bottle. Christian quickly glanced at you as you answered.

"What were you trying to forget about?" He questioned.

"That's a stupid question" You retorted dryly before you looked at him, unable to read his expression due to your current state.

"You... and us..." You whispered, feeling sorry for yourself. A frown appeared on Christian's lips as he listened to your confession.

"Why did you want to forget about us?"

"Because it hurts too much to think about what we had and then it all suddenly got taken away from me" You buried your head deeper into your lap, wishing you hadn't spoken up. He inhaled deeply through his nose, letting out a shaky exhale before speaking again.

"I don't know why I did it" He added. He heard you sniffle loudly, so he reached over to squeeze your hand reassuringly.

"I know you may hate me, but I do love you. I don't want you to feel like it was anything you did. It was all my fault" He continued softly.

"You don't need to carry around guilt for things that weren't your fault. Don't punish yourself for my stupidity" You nodded, gazing out of the window instead of looking at him. He sighed, rolling his shoulders as he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You had never been so close to tears.

"I hope you know that I don't hate you" You finally found yourself speaking up, your voice shakier than ever. Christian turned his head to face you.

"I couldn't possibly hate you, Chris. I love you too much to do that" You whispered before turning to meet his eyes. He smiled sadly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him.

-

Once he had driven to your house, he helped guide you out of the car and up to your front door. You handed him the key, allowing Christian to turn the lock and open the door before guiding you inside. He led you upstairs, opening your bedroom door and leading you to your bed.

"I'll go grab you some make-up wipes. You just uh... stay here and get changed into something comfy" He whispered as he disappeared into your bathroom.

While he was gone, you took advantage of the opportunity and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a random hoodie. Moments later, Christian walks back in with a pack of wipes in hand. He freezes as the sight of you.

"Is that my hoodie?" His question causes you to look down and take a look at what you were wearing. It was indeed his hoodie.

"Oh, yeah I guess it is. Do you want it back-" You asked but were cut off mid-sentence.

"No, keep it. It looks better on you anyways" He gave you a soft smile before removing one makeup wipe from the package and wiping it across your face.

"Thank you" You murmured as you watched him put away the unused ones. An awkward tension filled the room as you both sat in silence.

"Did you really mean it? When you said you still love me?" You questioned the man in front of you.

"I wouldn't lie about that, Y/n. I don't think I'll ever love anyone as much as I love you. Even though I'm an absolute idiot, I want to make us work" He admitted.

"Then how about we give it another try?" You stated firmly.

"I'd really like that" He smiled at you, before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he made his way to the exit.

"Chris" You shouted in attempt to grab his attention. He turned around at the mention of his name.

"Stay with me, please" You gave him a look and he knew he wouldn't be able to say no to you. Having already been in a pair of sweatpants, Christian slid into bed next to you, initially keeping himself at a far enough distance to not make you uncomfortable, but you pulled him closer to you anyways.

You laid in his arms as you began to feel yourself fall into a deep slumber, his hands slowly rubbing your back.

"I love you, princess" was all that could be heard as you were finally fell asleep in Christian's arms once again.

-

TAGLIST

@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @pianoisland @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy

[gerec]

for writing prompts, exes university au cherik?

I really love the university au you wrote where charles hooks up with Sebastian after he and Erik break up and Sebastian takes blackmail photos, so would also love a peek at what happens next hehe

Hi Anon,

Sorry for the delay! I do have more that I plan to write for that uni au, but what I've written isn't ready for posting yet so I wrote something else instead! Hope you like it :D

-----

Exes/University AU

Pairings: Cherik, mentioned Charles/Reed Richards, mentioned Erik/Shaw Tags: Exes, infidelity (sort of), post-breakup fight

It was one in the morning by the time Charles stumbled out of the Uber, still mostly drunk from an ill-advised combination of cheap beer and single malt Scotch. His head ached nearly as much as his poor ass and thighs, and he cursed every step up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. Still, it was less torturous than what awaited him there, standing with his hands shoved in his jeans and leaning against his front door.

“Erik?” he slurred, the flare of relief immediately dwarfed by a tsunami of hurt and anger. It was physically painful to see him, so fucking handsome and self-possessed, and Charles would throw something at that smug face if a) he had anything other than his phone or b) he didn’t think he’d trip and fall over himself instead. “What the— I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

He shoved Erik out of the way, intent on getting inside and slamming the door, only to realize he’d left his keys behind at Reed’s. Groaning, he pressed his pounding forehead against the door, wondering if it was too late to call one of his friends – Moira, or maybe Logan – for a place to crash. Instead, he felt Erik’s arm on his bicep, holding him steady, just as the door miraculously opened and he almost toppled in.

“What?”

“I still have my key,” Erik said, which yes, Charles remembered now; Erik’s had a key to his apartment for the past two years, for almost as long as they’ve been friends and then lovers. So much had happened these past few days that he’d completely forgotten to ask for his key back. Maybe he could give it to Hank instead, he thought, someone he trusted, who was dependable and wouldn’t rip his fucking heart right out of his chest.

“Great. Thanks. You can leave it on the counter and get the fuck out.”

“Charles—”

“No.” He dragged himself to the living room and sank onto the sofa, wincing in discomfort as his ass hit the cushioned edge. “Just…no.”

If he were any less drunk he would physically throw Erik out, or at least get a good punch in before inevitably losing the fight. He knew better than anyone, how stubborn Erik was, and how utterly immoveable he could be if he set his mind to something. Once upon a time, he could count on that steadfastness to extend to both their friendship and their relationship; once upon a time, he could trust Erik when he could trust nothing and no one else.

As it was, he’d have to hope that the man would get tired of being ignored, or else Charles would just pass out and not have to deal with any of it until he could start drinking again tomorrow. Stubbornly, he pretended not to notice the glass of water and pain pills Erik put on the coffee table, and refused to quail under that familiar, judgemental frown.

“Where were you?”

“Oh, fuck off, Erik.” “I saw you leaving Finnegan’s with Reed Richards three hours ago.”

Charles scoffed, still unwilling (unable) to look Erik in the eye. “What? You’re stalking me now?”

“Mein Gott, Charles! He’s your Professor—”

“He’s not anymore! I stopped TA-ing for him last semester—”

“—and he’s married! And he’s old enough to be your father! What were you thinking?” Erik snarled, eyes narrowed and gleaming with disgust. He would think it was jealousy if he didn’t know any better; if he hadn’t seen evidence for himself how very little Charles truly meant to him. And certainly not after what Erik did – who Erik did – not 24 hours after their split.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business who I fuck,” Charles answered, voice dripping with the kind of casual snobbery and disregard that he knew Erik hated. “At least I waited three whole days before I bent over to take another man’s cock up my ass! And I had the decency to do it in the privacy of that man’s home instead of at a frat party for the whole world to see! For all our friends to see!”

He should have felt something – triumphant, vindicated even – to see Erik’s face go white as a sheet; he clearly had not expected the grapevine to work quite so quickly in delivering Charles the news. And until this moment, there’d been a tiny bit of Charles that hoped it wasn’t true, only to have that dashed to a million pieces by Erik’s pained expression. He wanted to be sick, thinking about Erik with that absolute bastard, being pressed up against the wall with his pants around his ankles and moaning Shaw’s name.

(He swore to Charles that they were over for good; that he was over him, and like an idiot Charles had believed every word out of Erik’s lying mouth.)

“I don’t…it wasn’t…”

There was literally nothing Erik could say that would fix what was broken, and Charles realized with a sudden clarity that he just needed Erik gone – out of his apartment and definitely out of his life.

“It doesn’t matter. I don't want to know.”

He watched a myriad of emotions flicker over Erik’s face, until his lips settled into a tight, thin line. It was going to be anger then, because anger was Erik’s default, and it was easier and more familiar to handle than either sorrow or shame.

“We’re not back together,” he said, as though it would make any difference or change anything. “And…you and I were broken up. I didn’t cheat on you, Charles.”

“And I didn’t cheat on you,” he said, even if it had felt like cheating, spread out on Reed’s bed with his legs in the air. “Guess we’re both just a couple of sluts. You and I were never going to work. We shouldn't have gotten together in the first place.”

If he was any less drunk, he would have withered under the intensity of Erik’s icy glare, and maybe even empathized with how much he must be hurting too over their split. As it was, Charles was just too tired and too heartbroken; he wanted Erik to leave so he could just think and breathe again and not beg him to stay.

“Is that what you really think?” Erik asked, arms crossed and expression shuttered. He knew what Erik would think and how he would react, and still Charles forced himself not to back down or open himself to even more heartbreak.

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes, so he didn’t have to watch Erik turn and walk out the door.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Connected ch4

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: none

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace.

masterlist * previous chapter * next chapter

the nightmares returned that night. it was a never ending cycle of falling asleep, waking up crying, reaching for your phone to text chan, not wanting to bother him, and falling back asleep. when it was time to get up for work, you were exhausted and miserable. the thought of calling in crossed your mind, but then what would you do? sit at home all day and stare at your phone? you needed to go to work. you drug yourself out of bed and got ready.

“are you sleeping?”

his message came through as you were grabbing your keys to walk out the door. you were running a little behind and didn’t have time to contemplate whether you should answer him or not. so you shoved your phone in your pocket and headed on your way.

work was almost as miserable as your dreams and you couldn’t wait for it to be over. but at the same time, you had nothing better waiting for you at home. at least at home there was your bed, and music. so when it was finally time to clock out and you grabbed your bag and headed to your car.

“you busy?”

“i just can’t fall asleep.”

now you had nothing to do, so there’s no hiding from him. do you answer? last night you had convinced yourself that it was best if you just left him alone, didn’t bother him anymore. but these messages sounded as if he needed someone and you didn’t want to leave him all alone. you knew too well how that felt.

“no im not busy. just getting off work.”

“sorry you can’t sleep. can’t turn your brain off?”

you tossed your phone on the passenger seat and drove home. immediately upon arrival, you collapsed on your bed, pulling your pillow close to your chest, hugging it tightly. your phone vibrated against the sheets.

“too many thoughts.”

you understood that. there were some nights where you wanted to sleep so bad that you were brought to tears, unable to slip into unconsciousness. insomnia is rough. your heart broke for him.

“anything i can do to help you? want to call?”

‘that was brave’ you thought. normally you would never be the first one to suggest such a thing, but you really just wanted to help him.

“can we video call..? or is that too much?”

your stomach dropped. a video call? the thought of him being able to see you.. was terrifying. this is what you get for being brave and asking if he wanted to call.

“a video call is fine.”

your stomach was in knots, you were afraid you may be sick.

“okay but don’t make fun of the way i look. ㅋㅋㅋ”

you rolled your eyes. this man. but it made you feel a little better. it was comforting to know that you weren’t the only one who was nervous about the way they looked.

your phone started buzzing in your hand, ‘incoming video call’ filled the screen. you held your breath and accepted.

and there he was.

he was clearly in bed, surrounded by covers, his natural curly hair falling in his eyes, his bare face peeking out at you from behind the blanket. he was so cute. he looked so cuddly and sleepy.

“you look comfy."

he laughed. his laugh had quickly become one of your favorite sounds and you were discovering that it was even better when you could see his face. it made you smile.

“so do you.”

you realized your posture almost mirrored his, but instead of peeking out from behind the blanket, you were peeking out from behind your pillow.

the silence filled the room.

“i’m nervous.” you confessed.

“me too.” he said, chuckling.

“i’m sorry you can’t sleep. i know that really sucks.”

“that’s okay. you’re helping me.”

“are you saying that i’m putting you to sleep?” you joked.

he smiled and shook his head. “you’re relaxing me.”

“am i boring you, chan?” you laughed.

he was quiet for a moment, smiling. “do that again.” he said.

“do- do what again?”

“laugh like that.” you blushed. “i’ve always really liked your laugh. but it’s somehow better when i can see you.” he confessed.

you didn’t know whether to cry, throw your phone, pass out, or all of the above.

“your cheeks are red.” he pointed out. you hid behind the pillow. “hey hey, don’t hide.” he laughed. “i think you’re adorable.”

you could feel the warmth radiating off of your face. you decided a change of subject was necessary.

“so.. you’re coming to america?” you asked.

“yeah. here in a couple months. not for like a tour or anything but for a photo shoot and a couple interviews.”

“oh that’s cool. so i guess you won’t be here long then.”

“i’m afraid not. we’ll only be there for like 2 or 3 days and then we fly back.”

you just nodded. unsure of what to say next.

“i.. i uh.. i asked if we could make a pit stop in chicago.” he says, nervously. he was avoiding looking into the camera, suddenly finding a loose string on his pillowcase very interesting.

“really?” your face was hot again and your stomach was doing gymnastics.

“yeah. i thought maybe if you weren’t busy..” his sentence trailed off, never reaching its end.

“you want me to come to chicago?” you asked.

“only if you have time. only if you want to.” he said quickly. “no pressure or anything.”

“and all of the boys will be there..?” you asked, suddenly nervous. meeting chan was of course nerve wracking in itself. but meeting all eight of them? and the staff? you weren’t sure if you could handle that without a panic attack.

“yeah. but you don’t have to meet everyone if you don’t want to. you don’t even have to come if you don’t want to.” he cleared his throat a little. “i just.. i just wanted to meet you and the opportunity presented itself.. so i thought..”

“i would love to meet you, chan.” you reassured him. “but meeting you is scary and meeting everyone.. i think might be too much.”

“it can just be me then. you can meet every one else some other time. no need to be scared, i promise.” he smiled, his dimples making an appearance and you silently swooned. ‘get it together’ you told yourself.

“okay. just you sounds perfect.” you smile and fight the urge to kick your feet and giggle. what even is your life? what is happening?

“great.” he yawns. “i can’t wait.”

you chuckled. “are you sleepy?”

“mm” he answered, nodding.

“i can let you get some rest. i’ll talk to you tomorrow.” you suggested.

“no!” he said quickly, afraid you were going to suddenly hang up like last time. “don’t go. tell me about your day. how was work?”

you smiled. you settled deeper into your mattress, cuddling closer to the phone. “work was work.” you started. “i kind of hate my job.” he was quiet, so you continued. “i guess it’s not the job i hate, it’s the people i work with. they’re just not very nice.”

he was still silent, his eyes closed, his breathing deep. “chan?” you whispered. you were answered by the cutest softest snoring sound. he was definitely asleep. you couldn’t contain your smile. “goodnight, channie.” you whispered. but instead of hanging up, you placed the phone down on the bed and closed your eyes, falling asleep in the middle of the day to the soft sound of his breathing and his occasional snore.

taglist: @thinkingaboutlana @tamlinsfiddle (red means it wouldnt let me tag you, to be added or removed just let me know.)

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[indirectcomedian]

paxlyra brainrot goes crazy. 635 word little locker room fic that i cooked up, kayfabe compliant, no proofreading or editing (ok to rb)

lyra truly didnt know how she got into this situation. she sat on the locker room bench, pinned in place by one tatum paxley, who had taken it upon herself to hunt down lyra as soon as her championship match ended. the woman had practically tackled lyra backwards, bouncing with excitement at another successful title defense. trying to pry the woman off felt like a lost cause, the womans grip around her waist unrelenting. it wasnt until lyra spelled it out that she was uncomfortable that tatum let go, but that still didnt stop her from immediately latching back on as soon as lyra was back from changing out of her gear.

“uh, tatum?” lyra started, hands awkwardly held up to avoid touching the woman on her lap. tatums head snapped up to look at lyra, green eyes glittering. “yes, my sweet dove?”

“…can you give me a little space here? some breathing room?” tatum let out a little “oh” at the request, like she hadnt realized how close she had been, or how it could make lyra uncomfortable. she peeled herself off, instead occupying herself with fixing her hair. catching her apologetic glances, lyra almost felt a little bad for tatum. the girl was endearing in her own way, but she really wished she wasnt so… obsessive.

with her championship defense being the nights main event, the locker room had long since cleared out. the silence between the two women weighed heavy on lyra. she wasnt fully sure why she hadnt left yet, now that she had freed herself from tatums embrace.

“you know,” tatum spoke, almost like she could hear lyras thoughts, “im really glad youre still champion”.

“right. i mean, i am too.” she laughed nervously, trying to figure out how to respond to such an objective statement. it was sweet that she cared. “thank you… for your support, tatum”.

tatum smiled at the acknowledgment, turning fully to lyra. “no, really! you did so good out there, i dont know how anyone could have anything bad to say!” the praises rushed out of her, leaving her breathless. “i dont think theres anyone who can compare, youre just… so, so, good.” the last word came out as a trembling exhale, and tatum breathed heavily to gather herself. lyra looked on, concerned for her.

“i just dont know what i would do if someone took the championship away from you,” she started again, inching closer to lyra once more. the sudden intensity in tatums voice made lyra feel uneasy. “its just, who would even think to do that?” she inched closer still, placing one hand on lyras knee. “i just cant stand it. it just makes me so mad, how anyone could even consider that when youre so good and-“

“tatum?” lyras voice came out more high pitched than she intended. tatums eyes snapped to her once more, hand unconsciously closing in on lyras knee.

“tatum, its late. i think i should go.” tatum looked at her blankly, unrelenting, like she hadnt said anything at all. “champion needs her rest right?”, she tried, hoping to reach tatum with her fixation. finally tatum blinked, like she had just come out of a trance.

“yeah, right. of course, i- of course.” she spoke sheepishly, finally realizing lyra from her grip. despite the circumstances, lyra felt her chest hurt with how badly tatum hid her disappointment. “champion needs her rest,” she echoed.

“…right,” lyra replied, picking up her bag and finally turning from tatum. “well, good night then.” she was almost out of the room when tatum spoke again.

“see you next week?” she spoke quietly, hopefully. tyra stopped in the doorway. she could feel the womans eyes on her, could almost see them in her mind.

“im sure we will see each other”, she stated, finally leaving.

[thepocket221]

Can you write a fanfic for Naven (Epithet Erased) with a sick s/o?

heck yeah!!

i could have easily gotten sick🤒 mixed up with sick😎 but LUCKILY THAT DID NOT HAPPEN /lhj

Naven with a Sick!Reader

fic is under the cut!! (also reader is gender neutral!!)

also maybe slight spoilers?? nothing too bad, just more so for the future of epithet rather than anything in prison of plastic (i think)//

love him

he’s silly (i’ve seen anime campaign and know of the horrors to come)

kinda goes concerned mom mode

gotta make sure the loved one is okay!!

i love his stupid voice omg🫶🫶

ow. Ow. OW. Right as you had gotten up, your arms gave out as your already pounding head hit the pillow as you fell back. Normally pillows were soft, but this one hurt. As a matter of an already-stated fact, everything hurt.

——

——

Meanwhile, humming up a sweet little ditty was said malewife. He was on one of the bottom floors of the oh so very tall building, making you a nice breakfast: some french toast with a fruit bowl on the side! The fruit was mainly apples. This building doesn’t have many other fruits. Don’t question it.

You normally would have met him in the kitchen by now… of course, you did seem a tad bit off the previous night, so maybe you just needed to sleep in a little.

Well, a little while—another hour— passed and you still hadn’t come down yet. The breakfast Naven had prepared went soggy after his many attempts at preserving it, so he took that as his other sign to go up and check on you.

——

A couple of floors later and he is in front of the room you two share. Okay, you share it with one other person, Yoomtah, but A) she has a considerably more spacious area of the room so it’s basically hers at that point, and B) this isn’t about her /lhj.

“(Name)?” He soft voice almost sounded like a whisper as he calls out from behind the curtain separating the two rooms.

You can’t respond. You want to but you can’t. Your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself.

Naven brushes aside the curtain and enters, finding you in your half-dead(not really) state.

“Oh my!” He rushes to your side, yet also keeping his distance, “Darling, what’s wrong?” did he forget the lack of response you gave or is this just a force of habit for him?

You painfully began to turn towards you lover but upon seeing your winces and disgruntled face, he gently places a hand behind your aching head to help.

Oh, what to do, what to do?

He ponders for a moment, taking in the situation you are in, “Hmm, I don’t think it would be a great idea to make you take and hard pills just yet.. Perhaps I’ll focus more on making sure you get something to eat” he stated, his eyes are closed yet filled with concern, “Some soup should help clear up your throat a bit!” Naven smiled. Before he stood up to leave, he placed your and down gently and patted it… which he immediately regretted upon hearing your groan. Any and every movement gave you a terrible shot of pain.

“Ah! Sorry, dear..!” The worry came back in and instant and he took that as his notion to leave and prepare your meal.

——

Ever since you had started dating Naven, he always had a sort of an antsy yet endearing aura about him. As if he’s hiding a terrible secret but still trying to appear as normal as possible.. or at least as normal as a guy who has his eyes closed 24/7 yet still wears glasses can look. He was kind of a weirdo, but he was yours🫶

——

A considerable amount of time had passed and Naven returned. He carried a little tray with a bowl and a glass of water placed on it. He sat down next to you again after placing the tray on the bedside table, “Dear, could you sit up?” Naven’s soothing voice seemingly lifted you as if the words and his tone themself could accomplish physical tasks rather than just being sound vibrations. It didn’t hurt. No, you finally felt some relief when you moved. How does he do that? How does he make the pain go away?

He grabbed the glass of water and your hands met as he handed it to you. You smiled, he had such a warm and comforting presence. God, you loved your boyfriend.

The cold liquid woke you up a little bit as it made its way down your soar throat. It felt nice to get something down it, but the pain soon came back. You placed the water down on the table and rubbed your throat; eyes shut from the pain as you winced a little bit.

A forlorn expression planted onto Naven’s face as he pressed a hand against your cheek and slowly rubbed his thumb in a soothing motion, “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I know it must hurt, so I won’t take up any more of your time. You definitely need all the rest you can get.” Sadly, he moved his hand away to grab the tray with the soup, set it in your lap, picked up the spoon, daintily stirred it a bit to make sure the various spices and seasonings hadn’t settled to the bottom, and began to lead a spoonful to your mouth. The tiny amount of soup being brought to you smelled as if the spices in it were fighting each other to the death.. but in like, a loving way. They all work together to make the food taste good but still have some sort of rivalry about them. The only way you could tell was from the steam that filled your nose and you can almost feel as if you can breath through it again. As the warm substance hits your tongue, there is a hint of spice that seemingly won the fight of the seasonings. Naven took notice of your slight expression change, “Ah, the little kick it to help clear your nose as well.” He smiled. You could feel your throat’s pains from before begin to lessen the more you took in. This was some damn good soup. Maybe you should get sick more often… that would mean more of this glorious broth filling your senses in the most whimsical of ways.

——

Upon finishing the meal, Naven moved the tray aside back onto the bedside table, helped you lay back down, and planted a soft little kiss on your forehead, “Get some rest, love.” He whispered as he turned off the lamp and began to leave.

Just before he had placed the curtain between the two rooms again, your weak self finally found the strength to speak, “Thank you..”

He turned his head in your direction, “Of course.” a loving sigh and heartfelt chuckle came out as he said that whilst pulling the curtain to where not so much light could seep through. Your tired eyes began to become harder to keep open, so instead of fighting a losing battle, you were lulled back to sleep.

——————————————

GAAAAH I LOVE HIM BUT ALAS I KNOW WHATS GONNA HAPPEN TO HIM😭<//33

okay that’s it, thank you and stay safe🫡🖤‼️

[lunarsun12]

The Yumark Breakup Again Part 1/2

Masterlist

Next Part

It has been 2 weeks, since Jisung has found out about Yuta convo with Winwin. He couldn’t stand to see Mark being so oblivious, to Yuta deceitful lies.

He decided to take matters in his own hands and called Mark. To explain everything what has Yuta done, which leads to Mark breaking up with Yuta.

However things are not always what they seem…

Back At The Dream Chat

Today 18:00

Mark🐯: SOMEONE OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW

Chenle💸: Mark have you forgotten you keys, ask Yuta. You in the wrong chat

Mark🐯: DON’T SAY THAT TWO TIMING LION NAME!!

Chenle💸: Two timing? Did Yuta lie to you again?

Chenle💸: Hyuckie, did it again hahahah

Haechan🐻: It wasn’t me this time! I swear! I have learnt my lesson, when I almost got killed by Yuta!!

Renjun🍀: Who is banging on the door? So loud, jisung if you forgot your keys, call us!

Renjun🍀: I really don’t want, to see the kids from upstairs again. They give me bad vibes

Jisung🚀: I’m in Chenle room, doing something 😊

Jisung🚀: Mark, did the right thing. Ditching that Cheater Yuta hyung, he made Mark sad :(

Jaemin🌸: Why aren’t you guys, getting the door. My poor baby Mark is out there with a sad heart

Jeno🐶: I’ll get the door and Nana bring the sad kit to Mark

After Jeno very unwilling, let Mark into the living room. Jaemin came prepared with box of tissue and some hot cocoa.

Jaemin: Mark honey, what did Yuta do this time?

Mark: *sniffs* HE CHEATED

Jisung happens to enter the living room, to grab a screw driver to help chenle with something.

Jisung from the storage closets: Yea, Yuta hyung is not loyal to Mark. I need to tell Mark before he gets hurt even more

Jaemin: Jisung? How did you found out?

Jaemin: Also why are you in the storage closet?

Jisung: I heard Yuta saying, he missed his Winnie and when I walked past them. They look guilty!!

Once Jisung finished, what he is looking for. He immediately ran to Chenle room, before Chenle throw is teddy bear out the window.

After Jisung, left there was knock on the door. Jeno grumbles again, for having to get up and saw Yuta plus Doyoung at the door.

Jeno: Mark, you lover is here + the stress Eomma

Mark: Make Yuta, go away. I don’t want to talk to him. I’m too emotional!

Jaemin: I talk to them, Jeno comfort Mark. Make sure you keep on Mark, in case he hugs another watermelon

Jeno: Fine…

Jaemin opens the door and greeted the Eomma and Son duo with a smile.

Jaemin: How about we have a talk?

Jaemin: Talking with Mark, in this state will get you nowhere. Let’s go to the downstairs coffee shop for a chat 😚

The two followed Jaemin downstairs and Jaemin starts to question Yuta.

Jaemin: Yuta, did you really cheat on Mark?

Yuta: No it was a misunderstanding, Jisung misunderstood the situation. I was trying to get rid off the bad vibes between me and Winnie

Yuta: Let me explain!

Flashback a few hours ago

At the 127 house

Mark and Yuta were enjoying some quality time together. Until Mark Phones ring. Mark picked up the phone with a smile, he saw Jisung ID.

Mark: Yuta, I will be right back. My lil bro Jisung is calling me ☺️

Yuta: Okay, cool!

10 mins later…

Mark: YUTA IM SO DONE WITH YOU!!

Yuta: *blinks* Calm down Mark

Mark: DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. AFTER I GAVE YOU A WARNING LAST TIME. NOT TO DO IT AGAIN

It clicked in Yuta’s head, what has happened.

Yuta: Mark, it is misunderstanding. Jisung got the wrong end of the stick. Let me explain -

Mark: WE ARE DONE! I AM LEAVING!!

Mark storms out, went upstairs to pack along way. He bumped in Jungwoo and Johnny, who looks really confused as well having flashbacks, the last time it happens.

Jungwoo: We should hide, this doesn’t sound good

Johnny: I’m coming with you my lil cotton candy brother

Jungwoo: Let’s just hide, in Eomma crying spot. No one ever goes there

Jungwoo and Johnny ran to Doyoung crying spot in flash. Bracing the impact that will be upon them, when Yuta and Mark has fought.

10 mins later, there was big argument at the front door. Mainly Yuta begging Mark, to not to leave and Mark screaming. It draw the attention of Doyoung, who came rushing downstairs, when he heard the noise.

Doyoung: Yuta and Mark, what an earth are you two arguing at the door?

Mark: Tell your son, to not hold me hostage!

Yuta: Mark, let me explain and you can choose to leave or not. After I explain

Mark: No, all you do is tell lies!! I’m not falling for your tricks

Doyoung: Yuta, let Mark go for now and explain how it happens

Yuta reluctantly let Mark go. Mark ran so fast he was gone within a seconds. Yuta explains the situation to Doyoung.

Doyoung: *sighs* Yuta, you really need to be careful of your words, when you with Winwin. Especially when Jisung is around, we never know where he is

Doyoung: Last time, Jisung has caught me and your Appa having an argument. How we supposed to know, he was wondering with hyuck

Yuta: Poor boy, he must be scared. No wonder Uncle Nana doesn’t like you.

Doyoung: I have to explain Jisung, we were acting for a play. It cleared the poor boy suspicion

Doyoung: Mark should be at Nana house. Let’s go and hopefully Nana is in a good mood and not murder us.

End of flashback

Doyoung explained the situation to Jaemin. Who nods in agreement, he knows what Jisung is like, as he did it a lot of times.

Jaemin: Okay, I help you two!

Doyoung: Wait? You not mad? That Yuta accidentally made Mark cry?

Jaemin shakes his head: No, if you heard it from Jisung. It’s 100% a misunderstanding

Yuta: Great, can we please go to Mark!

Jaemin lights smacks Yuta head

Jaemin: Buddy, he won’t believe you now. Mark is stubborn, ever since he was child. It’s hard to change his mind

Jaemin: You need to tell Jisung, that it was misunderstanding and he will tell Mark and the rest is up to Mark to decide

Yuta: I will take that

Jaemin: Come I bring you two upstairs, and also don’t speak too much. We have this nosy upstairs neighbours, who happen to appear at random moments

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Find the Word Game XI

(Mature Content Edition)

tagged by: me, I'm the bitch my words: hurt, edge, sigh, give, strength, cheek tagging: @drippingmoon, @ashen-crest, @zmwrites, @drabbleitout, @oh-no-another-idea, @pertinax–loculos, @druidx, and Guetry's sister Kelly your words: hear, bare, wriggle, by, code, lamp

hurt (Aurora)—

"Whoa," Warren said, his nose pressed against the glass of the capsule. "Looks like an inverted bomb shelter."

"We wanted to make sure our training couldn't destroy it," Sussa said. "And to prevent anyone getting injured, no more than three individuals are allowed within the building at any time."

Warren looked at Thrive. "Wanna see if you can knock it down?"

Sussa giggled. "I don't think even he can hurt this building."

"Well," Thrive said quietly. "Now I have to knock it down."

"Oh, wonderful. Warren has definitely rubbed off on you too much."

Thrive reclined and threw Warren a devious glance behind Sussa's back. "Up to my face on occasion."

Warren let loose a startled squeal, but instantly relocated his thoughts and plastered on an innocent and mildly frenzied smile when Sussa turned to him.

edge (Meridian)—

"Okay, first," Warren said when they were released into sentry custody again, "how did you clock that she was bullshitting you?"

Thrive sighed. "They always do. Not to mention the only planet in Ashva open to refugees is R'lis, and they don't have the resources to house that many at once. They would've had to turn away more than four fifths of Efthim's population."

"Second...I had plans for us but that look you gave Sinkship kinda tipped me over the edge…"

Thrive hummed, interested. "I'd invite you onto the royal starship, but I've so missed the close quarters of your apartment..."

Warren shook his head sharply. "No fuckin' way. Contorting ourselves into that bed alcove and me getting a leg cramp seconds before I ate god—"

"You appeared to enjoy yourself regardless."

Warren stared at him. "Well yeah," he said loudly.

Thrive chuckled as they were escorted once again to the tram.

sigh (Aurora)—

Warren awoke with a splitting headache, in bed at Lilori's house with Thrive fast asleep next to him. Drowsiness had a hard time leaving him, and he peered through groggy eyes out the window at the sunrise over the lake.

Thrive started to stir and Warren cleared his throat of mucus.

"Mm," Thrive muttered. "Always charming."

"What the fuck happened last night?"

Thrive raised himself to his elbows and he blinked around the room as if the memory aggressively snapped to life within him. He responded with a heavy sigh. "Oras'at. It was my first time."

"If oras'at means rearranging my guts, I have some news for you regarding the validity of what you just said," Warren grunted, leaning over to tap the lighting panel on the wall beside the bed.

give (Warpath)—

Thrive's significantly whiskered face angled away from the controls of whatever wall panel he had managed to use to make the call, and his eyes softened upon seeing him. "...Warren."

Warren dropped onto the bed, a hand at his mouth. He almost couldn't find the words. "What is going on with this?" He motioned to Thrive's face.

"I thought I would try something new." Thrive did smile, now, almost as if he were sharing a private joke with Warren. "I wanted your opinion."

"What's your opinion?"

"I don't mind it." Thrive ran his fingers over his beard growth. "I think it gives me a more regal appearance."

"Yeah." Warren sucked in air through his teeth. "Well, my opinion is currently sapping all the blood from my head right now."

"Out of one and into another..."

strength (Eternal)—

Within some kind of surreal time-lapse, their eyes locked, and in the sharp light of the sunset pouring into the cave, Warren watched Thrive's pupils dilate. Heard his breathing come in as shallow as the ocean water at their ankles. Under the low throb of his own pulse, he could hear Thrive's heart. Slow. Hypnotic. Warren immediately couldn't breathe.

Thrive inhaled. "I need you."

"Fuck, take me—it," Warren stammered. "Take, um…take…whatever you fucking want—god, what—?

Thrive kissed him, purposeful and deep, and careful and heated. Warren ignored the blinding fireworks going off behind his eyelids and he lost himself within the prickling flames dancing over his skin, aware that he was losing the strength to stand which each second that Thrive kept his wrists pinned above his head.

cheek (Meridian)—

Warren's breath left him in a rush and he blinked hard, suddenly lightheaded.

"That's a very good point," Scot said, face seams stuttering as he processed. "Perhaps they could be back-to-back experiments."

"The idea is fascinating, if I can be candid," Thrive said.

"Alright, hold up," Warren interrupted, his cheeks and throat flushing. "The thought of you guys fucking is absolutely making me lose my mind."

He could practically hear Thrive's sudden intrigue behind him. "Then perhaps we could kill two birds with one stone and perform the experiments in Warren's presence."

Scot looked at Warren. "It could be beneficial to have a witness or a third party…"

"Perhaps as a control?"

"To involve him as well for a baseline reading?" Scot nodded. "That would definitely bolster the results."

"Oh, god," Warren muttered, wiping an unexpected line of drool from the corner of his mouth. "Watch, I'm gonna die of hypothermia in a minute and it's just not gonna be fair."

[dudeshusband]

Dude all the asks?

here you go. enjoy.

🤝: How did they meet in the first place? What was their first impression of each other?

my s/i, before they came out, used to work the bar at the hotel alamo. I suppose that since dude “left his stuff there” and chance lives at the hotel in canon, that dude also did. so, they met because he came in regularly, for a drink (when he was a casual drinker) or to sleep. these two were the fastest of friends. dude showed them how to shoot a gun and gave them their first pair (which they still have and use). I maintain that my s/i would think he was very pretty upon meeting him but wouldn’t think much of it. He thinks they’re very friendly and takes a liking to them almost immediately.

🫶: Who ended up falling first? Which of them actually realized that they’d fallen in love first?

so…it’s hard to say. mike and dude showed signs of crushing on each other, even before dude ran off with the stage girl. when he came back drunk, and blew his money on alcohol, then sold his stuff to buy more, then started dipping into mike’s money, they started to resent him and refused to speak to him for the next few years. so, they were in denial of their feelings. he was incredibly sorry at the beginning of the movie when they see each other again. he tries his best to see mike, to properly apologize, but mike wasn't having it. they realize their feelings after the scene where dude and colorado sing “my rifle, my pony, and me”. there are little hints though, like dude instinctively grabbing mike's hand or the way mike looks at dude. they're in love but they're in denial (mike is still mad and dude is wary of hurting mike).

🦀: How did they handle realizing they were in love? Embarrassed? Nervous? Mad?

as i said, in denial. dude was certainly nervous and mike was a bit mad initially.

🫣: Who stumbled the most with their feelings around the other? How much did the other person notice?

they were both so caught up in their own heads and the burdette situation that they didn't notice either way.

🦅: How good are their friends at being wingmen? Do they even help at all or just sit back watching the pining with a bag of popcorn?

chance saw it coming but he didn't want to interfere in any way. he saw what the stage girl did to dude, and though he thinks better of mike, he didn't want a repeat of that.

colorado might as well have been loudly chewing popcorn and yelling at the metaphorical screen.

💕: Who confessed first and how? Did it go as planned or did shenanigans ensue?

mike confessed first, on the way to their hotel room. it was awkward and nervous for them both. but it ended with a very sweet kiss.

🦋: How long did it take them to get out of the awkward early relationship stage? Have they gotten more confident around each other?

they were good friends before. the main part of the awkward was dude trusting himself with mike again and mike trusting him again. the trust part took the longest.

❤️‍🔥: Who tends to take the lead with showing affection?

a lot of the time mike does. they can't be around him very long without kissing him or being close to him.

💔: Do they have any previous relationship experience from past partners? How does it reflect on how they handle their current one?

dude does, mike doesn't. depending on the day, he can be quite confident or can swing into insecurities about mike leaving him.

😑: How easily do they get jealous and how do they handle it?

mike's not very jealous. dude isn't really either. there aren't a lot of people in town to be jealous of anyway.

🐱: Do they have pet names for each other, if so what are they? How does their partner feel about their pet name?

mike loves calling him “baby” which he finds nice. dude calls them “honey” most of the time, which mike loves.

🌙: Who has to force the other into having healthy sleeping habits? How well does that go for em?

dude definitely has to coax mike into healthy sleeping habits. sometimes it works, if he lays on the affection really thickly. sometimes mike really can't sleep and doesn't want to try.

🗣️: Who’s the one that will ramble on about their highly specific interest while the other just sits back and nods along?

mike's the rambler for sure.

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

we have our horses. they're more like modes of transportation than pete but we do love them.

✏️: How canon compliant are you with them? Do you stick pretty close or just have fun cause it’s your ship so no one can tell you what to do other wise?

pretty canon compliant. I've just added my s/i to the group. I'm nixing chance/feathers post canon for no other reason than it bores me and i don't like it.

💀: If the canon character is canonically dead, how did your OC handle their death? (Or did you completely omit their death cause fuck canon?)

thankfully not

💧: How well do they comfort each other when they’re upset?

they're both doing their best. there's lots of cuddling and hugging and comforting words. mike finds dude's voice comforting by default, and they love to ask him to sing.

🧸: Would they want to have kids together? If so what are their kid(s) like? How are they as parents?

I've been on the fence about this for months and months. i don't know. i flip flop. i think dude would make the cutest dad, i just can't bring myself to imagine myself with kids for too long, even fictionally. if any of my ships ever have fankids, this one and my ship with rick are most likely.

👁️: What exactly do they want with their future with each other? Is that something they think of often or do they just stay in the moment?

we're going to save up to build a ranch together. we will raise horses and have ourselves a little garden.

🕊️: Give just a general domestic tidbit for em (things they like about each other, routines, habits, and just overall sweet stuff)

for a while, they don't share a room at the hotel together, so they sneak into each others rooms in the middle of the night when they want to cuddle up. sometimes one falls asleep alone and wakes up with the other there.