#and have a messy break up in the streets of new york

[pbpsbff]

i want an au where peter gets famous because he is tony stark’s intern and turns into like a 2000’s drama tabloids etc celebrity type person maybe not even for realsies just for fun because he’s like oh haha i am a pr nightmare

[hoaxriot]

My boy only breaks his favorite toys ✸ Robert Reynolds

pairings. robert reynolds x fem!reader.

summary. you knew bob before, went through hell with him, and then one day he was gone. until a void covered new york city, meeting him in your worst moments again.

warnings. drug use, death, usual marvel themes, the void, and abuse. HAPPY ENDING!!! Yayyy

notes. the timeline is alll messed up and there is probably a lot of errors so ignore that:) thunderbolts had me SOBBing in the theaters but made me feel so seen and heard, opened my eyes about sm. fell in love with bob but ive been on the lewis train so now we’re here

You met Robert years ago, when you did, the boy was broken. Convinced himself that there was no coming back from what he had gone through, that a part of him was dark and convinced himself he would always be alone and that everyday was like drowning. Meeting you was like getting a big gasp of air from the water, deep down he kept his problems away from you until one day you showed up on his porch, drenched in water by the rain, sobbing as you reached out for him.

Bob put his walls down as he pulled you into his messy home, grabbing a large towel and bringing you into the bathroom. No words were muttered as he helped you undress and get into the steaming shower, Bob stepped into the water with you, helping you through your darkest times. He helped you dress into some of his smaller clothes that he hadn’t got to throw away, and then tucked you into his bed before he got into it beside you.

“My mom died.”

Bob paused as you whispered, he almost didn’t hear it but he did.

You told Bob about your family in passing, like you weren’t close to them and he understood why you didn’t, he only opened up one night a year before because of the drugs and he found himself on the welcome mat of your apartment.

He turned his head to the side, flexing his hands outwards as he saw the tears falling onto his pillows. “She was killed.” You swallowed loudly, Bob squeezed his eyes shut as she turned on his side, brushing his hand against your warm face.

“Robby,” you cried, curling yourself into him. Bob froze at the contact, until he felt your first curl into his shirt. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. As you wailed into his chest and his soothing whispers into your ear, Bob wished he could do something to take away your pain.

The months following that night, Bob was at your apartment or you were at his home. Sometimes, he would disappear for a few days but he would always come back begging for forgiveness. Even when he was gone, you understood him. You understood where he was and why, because you knew him and understood him. Bob didn’t understand that a lot of times because he never thought he would have that in his life, so he pretends you don’t.

That’s what makes it so easy for him to walk into the office, some person was offering something that could change him for the better. As he laid on the cold leather of the chair, he thought of you.

After a few weeks of Bob being gone, you worried. He hadn’t managed to call you, his home hadn’t been touched since the two of you were there. You bit your bottom lip as you walked through the streets of New York, careful not to make eye contact with the people sitting on the street but looking at them to see if it was him. You cried silently as you walked up the stairs to your apartment building, dropping onto the top stair.

You leaned against the railing as you cried, apart of you felt in your bones he was gone. Not dead. Just gone from your life. There was that one good part of you that felt him tugging onto your arm telling you he was there. And he was, without even knowing it, Bob was just down the street from you. Getting his hair dyed and his own hero suit, he almost felt like he was fixed as he had people surrounding him and seeing a hero.

After almost an hour of sitting on the stair, you stood up and walked into your apartment. Everything felt slow as you unlocked your door and walked in, falling onto your couch you stared at the blank tv that wasn’t turned on. Out the corner of your eye, you saw the small portrait. Against your better judgment, you turned your head to see the picture.

You and Bob stood side by side with sloppy smiles as your faces were pressed against each other, low and red eyes with beer bottles in your hands. You chuckled bitterly to yourself as you laid onto the couch as you stared at the picture.

Bob made you feel whole again. Maybe that’s all it was, just to feel and not to love.

All your life, you only knew love by one person. Your mom. She was all you had and you were all she had, until she fell into a cycle of relationships with horrible men, dragging you around with her until you were eighteen. When you turned eighteen, you left her, staying close because you loved her but far enough so you didn’t have to deal with your step-dad. It wasn’t her, it was the men she brought into the home. After years of months relationships, your mom swore she found the one.

He was sweet, he brought her flowers every week on Friday’s, left her small love notes around the house, and what made the woman think he was the one was because of you. He helped you with your homework, danced with you, cheered for you at your graduation. He became a father to you, no other guy wanted to become a dad to a teenager.

Then he got mean, he lost his job after the blip and instead of bringing home flowers for his wife. He brought home a twenty pack of beers, fell into his recliner and watched the television.

You visited your mom every now and then, talked to her on the phone every week just to make sure she was okay. She was a damned good liar, you knew her husband was a shit person but she made it seem like he never took it out on her. He did, of course he did. You should’ve known that.

You closed your eyes slowly as you felt the tears stream down your cheeks, furrowing your eyebrows at you heard a lot of commotion outside. You slowly stood up, walking out of your apartment and down the stairs to see people on the street and sidewalks staring up at the sky, apart of you didn’t want to look. You’ve lived through all the things that happened in New York, but you looked.

Your mouth dropped seeing a dark silhouette in the sky, screams scattered across the streets but you just stared at the silhouette. “What the fuck?!” You heard from beside you, snapping your head to the sound. Many people now stared at the ground ahead, you felt your stomach twist as a person running towards you— turned into a shadow on the ground?

Hearing your name being called, looking over your shoulder to see your neighbor ushering you towards them. “Hun, get inside.” The elderly woman grabbed your arm, her husband put his arm on your back pushing you inside. He shut the door as the three of you walked into their apartment, you breathed heavily as you walked towards the window facing the street. The sky seemed to be getting darker as the seconds passed, you watched as many people became shadows. Shaking your head as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Buggy!”

You snapped your eyes open at the sound of your mother’s voice, “What?” You whispered to yourself as you now stared at the posters on your wall back at home.

“Buggy! Help!”

You snapped your head around at the desperation in your mom’s voice, “Momma!” Running through the hallway until you turned the corner into the living room, mother fucking Stephen. Her husband stood in front of her with a smirk, you gasped as she turned around.

“Mom.” You said softly, she was covered in blood, handprint of blood on her face as her hands laid on her torso. She coughed up blood before she fell onto the ground below you, “Mom!” You yelled out, dropping to your knees and bringing her into your lap.

“Buggy, you came.” She smiled, teeth stained red causing your stomach to churn.

You nodded your head tearfully, “yeah, momma I did. I’m here. It’s okay.” You pushed away the strays sticking onto her forehead due to her sweating, he laughed that turned into a painful groan. You shook your head as you looked down at her torso, pushing her hands away.

“There’s nothing you can do, kiddo.” Stephen’s haunting voice echoed around the room, you shook your head rapidly as you yanked the blanket off of the couch and pushed it onto the wound, your mother yelled out in pain but you swallowed and kept pushing.

“Buggy, just hold me.” Your mother whimpered out, your lips pouted as she reached out to stop your movements, she tugged at your wrist. “Buggy, please.” You nodded your head as you placed her head in your lap, brushing your fingers through her hair. Then, you started to hum a soft tune that she used to do to help you sleep, you sobbed as she closed her eyes and her hyperventilating came to a stop slowly.

Lowering your forehead until it touched hers softly, “Mommy, I’m sorry.”

Then, you were back in your neighbors apartment, they looked at your slowly. Wondering if you saw what they saw too, you looked around tearfully until you saw the outside world again. They called your name countless times as you ran outside, but they stayed put in each other’s arms.

Everyone looked around with wide eyes on the streets, once again New York was in shambles. You turned around looking at the damage, through the crowd you saw it. First you saw a familiar face from the television, Bucky Barnes.

He walked onto the street, looking around at the damage. He looked at Bob with furrowed eyebrows as he asked what happened, the fuck?

“Robby?”

Bob snapped his head, Yelena could’ve sworn he should’ve gotten whiplash in that moment. She followed his eyesight, a smaller woman stood a few feet away, ignoring the people pushing past her. Bob whispered your name but the blonde heard it.

“Robby, is that really you?” You said louder as you stepped closer, you ignored the hero’s around him as they all stared at you. He said your name with a tearful laugh as he watched you jog to him, he opened his arms as you picked up your pace.

“Oh my god!” You yelled as you jumped into his arms, “it’s you, it—“ you cut yourself off with a sob, burying your face into his neck. He did the same as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly but you didn’t care, he was back.

John cleared his throat loudly behind the two of you, Yelena gave him a look. You slowly released your hold on him, he loosened his grip on you. You felt your feet touch the ground again, looking behind him. “Woah.” You saw the man who held the Captain America shield, but he wasn’t Captain America anymore, but you knew who he was.

Bob chuckled awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand still on your lower back. “Who’s this, Bobby?” John said looking between the two of you, your eyebrows shot up as you looked at him.

“Yeah— um, this is, uh,”

You cut his stuttering as you introduced yourself, Bob pointed at you.

“What are— are you with them?” You said as you looked between the group, Bob nodded slowly. “H-how? Wait— I’m-“

Yelena laughed loudly as she looked between the two of you, “Um, that is going to be a very funny story to tell her, isn’t it?” She said, clapping her hand on Bob’s shoulder.

“Ah, yes it will be! I would love to be there for that!” Alexei said with a laugh, everyone side-eyed him.

You looked between them with furrowed eyebrows, “hey, you’re the Red Guardian.” You pointed at the older man, Yelena looked at you oddly as her father gasped dramatically.

“You know who I am?”

You nodded with a bright smile, like nothing that just happened, happened. “Yeah, my mom was like obsessed with you. She had the whole shrine on her bookshelf, about two shelves full of books of you.”

Yelena groaned loudly as she rubbed her forehead, “Please don’t tell him that.”

You grimaced as you looked at Bob who had a soft smile on his face already looking at you. Maybe all of this was worth it in the end, he’d have to adjust to a lot of things but you were still here and he found people who understood him in ways he never thought anyone would.

[sargeteen]

𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 ! ˡˢ²

he'll drive a funky car ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝒍ogan sargeant x 𝒇ootball player!male reader synopsis: logan sargeant and reader are the newest celebrity relationship on the block, and they’re loved by many. mostly because reader plays for the rival team of logan’s favorite nfl team.

genre: smau, humor warnings: using dalton kincaid as a fc

requested? nope author's note: reader is a strong swiftie because i was listening to folklore while writing this

masterlist.

liked by buffalobills, userone, usertwo, and others tagged: youruser, logansargeant

f1gossip a new couple has entered the villa??

in a recent post-game interview, y/n l/n, tight end for the buffalo bills, mentioned going back home to an un-gendered partner after the game, and that they were in the crowd that night. after the game, l/n was seen leaving the stadium with our one and only logan sargeant, f1 driver for williams racing. a couple of days later, the two were seen in the streets of new york, hand in hand.

could this be the newest athlete-on-athlete couple the internet has been wanting 👀???

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userone lets not scroll past the fact that the BUFFALO BILLS INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT liked his post ⤷ f1gossip that's all the confirmation we need 👀

usertwo OMG WAITTT I LOVE THESE TWO MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDINGGGGG liked by author ♥︎

userthree the yaoi truthers are going to be very happy

userfour I KNEW THAT THERE WAS AT LEAST ONE F1 DRIVER THAT WAS GAY LETS GO ⤷ userfive SAMEEE kind of surprised it's logan tho i expected charles tbh... ⤷ userfour ykw..i can see that

liked by joshallenqb, buffalobills, logansargeant, and others tagged: logansargeant

youruser ok since yall are the cia; recently

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usersix SO IS IT TRUE ARE YOU GUYS DATING????? liked by author ♥︎

userseven YALL ARE THE CUTEST COUPLE EVER liked by author ♥︎

logansargeant i didn't approve of these pictures ⤷ youruser good thing you look good in them, yeah? ⤷ logansargeant you're supposed to say that you're my boyfriend ⤷ youruser doesn't mean it's not true

usereight yeah ok yeah i love them now they're the only couple ever

usernine i wonder how logan feels dating a bills player when he's a miami fan... ⤷ logansargeant no comment. liked by author ♥︎

buffalobills HAH GOT YOUR MANSSSS miamidolphins ⤷ miamidolphins for now... ⤷ userten oh ok so thats..

usereleven their relationship is just going to be the dolphins and bills fighting over logan i think liked by author ♥︎

joshallenqb better treat my tight end right, logan...i have daniel's number and a private jet. ⤷ logansargeant uhh..sir, yes, sir ⤷ danielricciardo josh don't scare the poor kid, if your tight end doesn't treat logan right, i know where the bills facility is. ⤷ youruser ok um sir yes sir

usertwelve IM CRYINGGGG josh being protective over y/n and then daniel being protective over logan omfg this dynamic is perfect

userthirteen oh yeah they're going to be my personality for the rest of my life

liked by youruser, logansargeant, nfl, and others tagged: logansargeant, williamsracing

miamidolphins your move buffalobills 🤷

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userfourteen IM CRYINGGG THEYRE SO MESSY 😭😭

userfifteen but williams said it was my turn to have logan :(

youruser now what the hell is this. ⤷ miamidolphins we got your mans 😘 ⤷ youruser tell logan he doesn’t need to come over tonight ⤷ miamidolphins …did we just cause a breakup

usersixteen did we just witness a yngan break up in instagram comments…?

userseventeen I LOVE THESE TWO SMMMM HAHAHA

logansargeant had so much fun, can’t wait for game day 🐬🧡 ⤷ youruser im revoking your tickets ⤷ logansargeant miami would just buy me some more 😘

liked by logansargeant, buffalobills, joshallenqb, and others tagged: buffalobills, joshallenqb

youruser me and the goat after beating the dolphins

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joshallenqb BIG DUBS ⤷ youruser BIG DUBSSSS

usereighteen that's one way to get back at your bfs favorite team

usernineteen WHAT A GAMEEEE y/n l/n gotta be the best tight end in the league ⤷ usertwenty what about travis kelce ⤷ usernineteen what about him

logansargeant WOO BIG DUBS Y/N!! ⤷ youruser ... ⤷ logansargeant ...im sorry for rooting for the dolphins i love u sm please im sorry 😞😞 ⤷ miamidolphins okok i get it hoes before bros ⤷ youruser why are you even here...

buffalobills BIG DUBS BIG DUBS I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT THATS OUR QB AND TE DUO!!!! ⤷ youruser OH YEAHHHH BIG DUBS BEST QB TE DUO IN THE LEAGUEEEE

liked by oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, youruser, and otherstagged: youruser

logansargeant florida is gonna miss us ☀️

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usertwentyone posting this after your boyfriend beat the dolphins is CRAZYYYYY but im hear for the nfl drama ⤷ usertwentytwo right??? like this season has been so boring so far...

usertwentythree these two are the most pinterest couple right behind charles and alex i swear theyre so aesthetic ⤷ usertwentyfour that's called the y/n effect

youruser florida is going to miss YOU because you're coming to buffalo ⤷ logansargeant yeah...okay, whatever you say tight end ⤷ youruser HA YEAH TAKE THAT miamidolphins ⤷ miamidolphins THAT'S UNFAIR BECAUSE HE'S YOUR BOYFRIEND!! JUST KNOW WHO HAD HIM FIRST.. ⤷ logansargeant guys please there's enough of me to go around

usertwentyfive i don't even watch the nfl or f1 but i looooove the dynamics between these two and the teams they're so funny omfg ⤷ usertwentysix right?? like i love taylor and travis but like...these two HAVEEE to be top tier just because theyre so funny 😭😭 ⤷ youruser don't pit two divas against each other i love taylor

usertwentyseven Y/N IS A SWIFTIE????????? ⤷ usertwentyeight i fear this was obvious user...he's talked about her music so many times in interviews and how he listens to reputation before games to get him pumped up 😭😭

a/n: this kind of feels unfinished but i didn't know where to go after this oops

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part one

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: n/a, angst???

A/N: Been sitting in my docs for awhile! Based off Invisible by Taylor Swift - I have a couple parts ready to go not sure where i wanna take this but we'll see!

Part Two

-----

The city’s rhythm feels like a heartbeat, pulsing with the lives and stories of the people who live here. And for you, it’s not the towering buildings or bustling streets that make New York feel like home. It’s the people you share it with, the friends who’ve become your family, each with their own history and quirks, all somehow meshing together into this messy, beautiful dynamic you’d never trade for anything.

It started with Bucky. You met him on the playground when you were kids, both too stubborn to share the swing set. That was years ago, but you’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s been your constant, the friend who showed up at your house with snacks when you had a bad day, and the one who stayed up with you during endless nights of stargazing and silly conversations about what the future would hold.

When junior high rolled around, Steve joined your little duo. Steve, with his easy smile and that unwavering loyalty that made it impossible not to trust him. He fit right in, like he’d been meant to be part of your lives all along. Steve became the one to balance you and Bucky out — he was the one who kept the peace during your bickering, who had a shoulder to offer when one of you needed it. Steve quickly turned the two of you into an unbreakable trio.

Then came high school, and with it, Natasha. She was a transfer student, quiet and intimidating at first, with a sharp wit that kept everyone at arm’s length. But somehow, the three of you managed to break through that exterior. By senior year, she was as much a part of the group as you, Bucky, and Steve. Natasha’s the friend who knows everyone’s secrets, who has a knack for noticing things no one else does. She’s tough and unyielding, yet she’s also the one who brings you soup when you’re sick, who stays up late to talk through your problems — even when you don’t want to admit you have them.

College came, and your little circle expanded further. That’s when you met Sam. Sam was the life of the party, someone who could make anyone laugh and always knew the right thing to say. He was the friend you went to when you needed cheering up or a reality check, someone who wasn’t afraid to call you out when you needed it. With Sam came Wanda Maximoff, quiet but kind, with a gentle presence that somehow grounded everyone. She slipped into the group as if she’d always belonged there, the one who remembers little details and checks in on everyone. Wanda’s the friend who sits with you in silence when you’re upset, offering comfort without needing words.

You love them all — each one has carved out their own space in your life and heart. But then there’s Bucky.

Bucky is different. He’s been there the longest, woven into your memories and heart in a way that’s impossible to untangle. Somewhere along the line, he went from your best friend to something more, though he never seemed to notice. Bucky is everything you love and everything that frustrates you; he’s the guy who makes everyone around him feel like they’re the only person in the room, but he’s also the one who never stays attached to anyone for long.

He’s the smooth-talking charmer who flirts with every girl in sight, the perpetual bachelor who’s never been one for serious relationships. And while that should make it easier for you to keep your feelings hidden, it doesn’t. Because every time you see him with someone else, there’s a part of you that aches, wondering if he’ll ever look at you that way.

And yet, despite all the years and all the chances you’ve had to move on, you stay. Because Bucky is more than just a friend; he’s your home. You’re his confidant, the one who knows his secrets and his struggles, the one who’s always been there. It’s a role you wouldn’t give up for anything, even if it means watching him fall for everyone but you.

So, you keep your secret, tucked away behind the laughter and the years of memories. Because as much as it hurts sometimes, you’d rather have Bucky as your friend than risk losing him altogether.

The smell of pizza fills your tiny New York apartment as Steve brings in the last box from the kitchen, setting it down on the coffee table with a grin. “Alright, who’s ready to lose at Mario Kart?”

“You mean, who’s ready to lose to me,” Natasha chimes, grabbing a slice and settling on the couch, challenging smirk in place. “You all know I’m the reigning champion.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Sam teases, snatching the controller out of her hands with a wink. “I’m about to wipe the floor with all of you.”

You laugh, wedged into the corner of the couch beside Bucky, who’s flipping through channels like he’s in his own world. “You’ll be singing a different tune once I lap you three times,” he says, voice casual, eyes on the screen.

“Talk all you want, Barnes,” you reply, nudging his shoulder, “but you’re not gonna win tonight.”

His eyes meet yours, that lazy, amused smile you know so well. “Bring it on, doll.”

Natasha elbows you, muttering, “You two better save the banter for the race, or I’m taking both of you out first round.”

Your friends’ laughter fills the room, echoing off the narrow walls that have seen a hundred nights like this, crowded with the people you’ve come to think of as family. Wanda arrives a few minutes later, holding a tray of cupcakes she’s decorated herself. “Special edition, fall flavors,” she announces proudly, setting them down in the kitchen. “Pumpkin spice, because I know how basic you all are.”

Steve scoffs but grabs one immediately. “Did you just call me basic?”

“Take it as a compliment,” she teases, leaning into Sam, who gives her a quick side-hug. “Means you have taste.”

In the middle of this, Bucky slings his arm across the back of the couch, close enough that his hand almost brushes your shoulder. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, feel the way your pulse picks up—things he’d never notice.

“Why don’t we just skip the race and go straight to the part where we talk about how I’m a hero and you’re all my loyal sidekicks?” Bucky quips, popping open a beer and flashing a grin that could melt steel.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. “In what world do you get to be the hero?”

“In my world,” he replies with a wink, leaning in closer. You catch Natasha’s look over the rim of her drink, one eyebrow raised as if to say, See what I mean?

The hours pass like they always do, a blur of laughter, arguments over who cheated and who didn’t, Wanda’s cupcakes disappearing one by one, and Steve trying to prove he can actually beat Nat, despite his track record saying otherwise. It’s only when the clock hits midnight that everyone starts to wind down.

As they get ready to leave, Natasha gives you a long look. “See you tomorrow?” she asks, her tone casual but her eyes full of something else.

You nod, managing a smile as she heads out with the others, leaving just you and Bucky to pick up the empty cans and plates. He nudges you as he gathers them up. “Another night, another victory,” he says.

“You were lucky, Barnes,” you say, rolling your eyes.

And maybe he’ll notice one day—how much it means to you that he’s here, that you’re the one left cleaning up with him every time the night winds down. But for now, he just laughs, flashing that grin of his that you can never get out of your head.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous of my skills.”

“Skills?” you snort, tossing a pillow his way. “All I saw tonight was a lot of luck.”

He catches the pillow mid-air, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

There’s a lull as you both continue gathering up cups and plates, the quiet feeling comfortable, familiar. Every late night ends like this: just the two of you, unwinding after hours of laughter and chaos. You’re stacking plates by the sink when he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms with that easy, relaxed posture he gets when it’s just the two of you.

“So, what do you think of Kate?” he asks, out of nowhere.

You freeze, not quite sure how to answer. She’s… fine. In fact, she’s more than fine. She’s exactly the kind of person who should be with Bucky—smart, confident, and with a wit sharp enough to keep up with him.

“She seemed nice,” you manage, “I only met her the one time near the end of summer break” avoiding his gaze. “Why?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “I dunno. We’ve been talking a bit, and she’s… I don’t know, different.”

Different. The word sits heavy in your stomach, weighted with the implication. You force a smile, willing yourself not to overthink it. “Different’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” He nods, looking thoughtful in a way that makes your heart sink, because this—this is new. You’ve watched him brush off a hundred girls, seen him roll his eyes at the idea of commitment more times than you can count. But he’s not brushing Kate off, and that terrifies you.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “if you’re planning to bring her around, at least let me so I can order extra pizza because 3 large pizza’s arent enought with Steve around”

Bucky chuckles, ruffling your hair in that infuriatingly casual way he’s always done. “You’re the best doll, you know that?”

The words are simple, playful, but they pierce all the same, a reminder of just how invisible you are to him in that way. “Yeah,” you say, a little quieter, “I know.”

[astroboots]

Omg please continue with the Miguel fang prompt!!! It’s too cruel to stop there!!!!!

HIDE AND SEEK

Summary: Miguel and you plays hide and seek.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Content: Hunter predator kink (I think that's what we're calling it?) anyway explicit. Miguel is a bit rough.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

It's all too easy to get lost in the crowd in a city as crowded as New York. You slip in among a throng of tourist standing around like a flock of pecking hens, their faces dipped down at their phones, huddled over google maps as they try to figure out how to get to Broadway as if it's not within goddamn walking distance, right down the street.

In a nervous habit, you fiddle with the watch on your wrist. Your eyes flick over the bright light that tells you it's 11:28pm.

Which means, there's still 32 minutes left.

God this is the slowest hour you've ever lived through in your life.

You squeeze yourself in the back, behind a woman with a large hat and larger sunglasses, even though it's evening and the sky is near black. The only things left illuminating the sky now is glaring shop signs, aggressive LED lights, and the mega-spectacular ads display that is brighter than the goddamn sun.

Peering over the madness of the crowd, you try to spot the familiar sight of his all too recognizable build looming over everyone else.

But there's nothing.

He's not here. You let out a long held in breath, your chest sagging with relief. Of course he wouldn't be here.

Times Square has over 300,000 visitors passing through every day. 300,000 sweaty, exhausted individuals drenched in perfume and deodorant that would make it impossible to pick up your scent. Thousands of people speaking all at once, over the angry noise of honking traffic that would make it impossible, even for him, to pick up the sound of your distinct footfall.

No, He won't be able to catch you here. That's why you came here after all.

You glance down at your watch again. 11:31.

Shit! How has only three minutes gone by?

Shaking your head, you look up at the sea of people.

You'd better get moving. Even in a crowd, if you stay still for too long, it won't be safe.

Walking briskly down the wide street, it's a struggle to squeeze through the ever moving crowd as the glaring lights change from makeup ads to theater marquees. You're peering over your shoulder with every three steps you take, constantly expecting the familiar sight of his messy curls to peek out a foot above the crowd.

He's so damn tall there's no fucking way you'll miss him if he's found you. You'll get plenty of advance warning, you reassure yourself as you continue to move forward.

Your eyes settle over your watch again.

11:46. Fuck you sideways.

You know you shouldn't keep checking it every two seconds like this, because all it serves to do, is to ratchet up your blood pressure so high you're going to need to start taking medication for it.

How is time moving so slow. You shake your head in exasperation, and for a fraction of a second you swear you see it.

A flash of unmissable dark navy glowing with red.

You freeze. Your back feels like ice, cold damp sweat breaking out along your spine. You snap your eyes back but there's nothing there now. Nothing but an anonymous crowd.

What the-- How could he have just disappeared into thin air?

He's 6 feet and fucking 9 inches. Taller than your refrigerator back in your tiny studio apartment. The top of his head beats out your fucking Christmas tree. If he was here, he'd be impossible to miss. You don't fucking miss a giraffe when you visit the Brooklyn Zoo, so why are you having such a fucking hard time spotting him? How the fuck does he move so inconspicuously?

Was it just your imagination?

You glance at your watch: 11:46. Gotta be kidding. Is time standing still now? Has it just decided to stop moving altogether?

You force yourself to step forward and ignore how your knees seems to cave at your own weight as you sink into the pavement with every step.

In the corner of your eyes you spot him. Clearly this time. Real. Not a figment of your imagination. He's only a few steps away from you. The familiar pair of glowing scarlet eyes fixed on you.

Oh fuck, shit. Shit! Your heart races at the sight, beating so hard you think you feel it in your lungs. You're already sprinting in the opposite direction without thought and the only thing guiding you is the pure impulse to escape.

You push through the crowd, sprinting forward without taking in your surroundings. All you care about is to get away as your gaze is fixed on your watch.

11:52. Eight more minutes. You just need to stay away for eight more minutes.

You keep running as the crowd seems to thin, and the colorful lights and noise of traffic fades away. Then you finally stop, catching your breath to look up at your surroundings.

It's empty and void of people. A large empty van is blocking the narrow alley from view of the main street, and there's an unlocked gate that you've come through.

On the other side from where you've come from there's a tall bricked up wall as far as the eye can see-- a dead end.

How the fuck did you manage to find the only deserted dead end alleyway in central New York?

Shit you need to get out of here, you won't be able to run away if you're trapped here.

You glance one more time at your watch.

11:57. Three minutes. 180 seconds. It's all you need and then you'll win.

You turn your heel back towards the gate. But it's too late.

The dim light of the alley is eaten up by a large and imposing shadow.

He's already here.

The familiar navy blue and the menacing red sprawled across his chest fills your vision, blocking your only path to escape. All you see is red eyes glowing so bright it lights up the dark alley with it.

"Time's up," he says, mouth curled into a mocking smile so wide that you can see his fangs peek out from his upper lip.

That's when you realize you are well and fully trapped like the helpless prey you are in his spider's web. You're right where he wants you.

God you're so damn stupid. You were safe in the crowd. But one sight of him had you spooked and running into the only alley to be found in all of New York.

Shit.

He'd planned this all along. The bastard's must've been the one who opened the gate. And you had ran in here like some scared witless rabbit straight into his trap.

You could try to escape him. Some vain, silly leftover pride in you, is adamant that you still have at least two whole minutes to get away.

He steps closer, and you can't help but instinctively step back as he does.

You know it's a game. Know that he would never hurt you, but that hungry and predatory red glow in his eyes has fear spiking along your spine all the same.

"Miguel, wai--"

The rest of your futile plea dies in your throat. His broad palm covers your mouth and jaw, and even your startled squeak is muffled into silence as he presses you up against the wall.

You whimper into his hand, but he doesn't relent. Doesn't ease up, even as he leans down and hushes you. Despite the soothing tone he uses with you, it isn't comforting at all. It drips with condescension as he press his lips to your bare throat.

"I'm gonna take my prize now, nena," he murmurs into your skin and because your brain is broken, with no sense for survival instincts, every part of you tingles at the amused threat in his voice.

"You promised remembered?" He reminds you.

And of course you do. It's hard not to, when the bastard's got you pinned against a brick wall in an abandoned alley like something out of a horror movie.

Fuck. He's taken this way too seriously. You don't know why you had suggested the world's dumbest hide and seek with this competitive and unreasonable man.

He presses you into the hard brick behind you, like there's anywhere left for you to go. And you can feel it. The proof of his excitement pressing up against your stomach, pinning you against the wall. He's hard.

Any residual resentment at your loss gives way for excitement when you feel his cock twitch and jerk against you.

The edge of his teeth rests on your bare shoulder as goosebumps breaks across your skin, and you feel dizzy. Anticipation swirls in your stomach with an intoxicating warmth.

You can't fucking breathe.

His hand snakes up your dress, wedging your panties to the side, until you can hear the fabric rip and tear. Shit, you're going to kill him for that.

The thick head of his cock presses in and stretches you open, as he forces his way inside of you, in time with his sharp and whetted fangs sinking into your flesh. Electricity pings across your nerves, sweet and euphoric and you feel drunk with it.

He's filling you, inch by hard and relentless inch, until you swear you can feel him lodged in your stomach. You feel so fucking full. Full of Miguel until nothing else fits anymore, but he doesn't stop.

His cock nudges along an impossibly deep spot inside you that has you losing orientation and makes the space around you spin, and he's still not fully inside.

White blinding pleasure streaks through your every nerve and crowds your vision, as he sinks you down further on him, until your vision goes blank. He's so fucking big. Always is no matter how many times you take him like this.

Pleasure pool with heat in your stomach as he holds you in place, impaled on the thickness of him.

Your limbs go boneless, unable to hold up your own weight, and for a moment you're not sure if that's the venom released to your bloodstream or just the effect he has on you. You only remain upright because he's propping you up with his body.

His mouth skims along your throat, dragging his teeth up until his fangs tease along the shell of your ear, with the threat of sharpness. The edge of them barely graze your skin, completely unlike the feral impatience he'd sunk into you with, as he whispers into your ear.

"Found you, Nena."

Dedication and credits: This piece is dedicated to @foxilayde for her completely deranged (and amazing) post that had me SALIVATING. Thank you for putting this brainworm into my head. I am shooketh.

[gatheringbones]

[“Turns out that being a lesbian outside of the privacy of your own home was quite hard. I’m not talking about the various manifestations of homophobia—oh, that old thing. I’m talking about scoring. Picking up chicks. (As it turns out, I would come to prefer the type of woman few would recognize as female, the type who would cheerfully deck you if you called her a chick, but might, if I were lucky, see me as such: a chick, a babe, a femme fox.)

In the oeuvre of Mr. Spillane, being a lesbian seemed so easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. In my favorite lesbian novels, No Blonde is an Island and My Gun is Quick, all a gal had to do was brush up against another woman by the water cooler and, watch out, the sapphic sparks would surely fly. Lesbianism was something any woman could do, no special equipment, messy creams or liquids were required.

But when I walked into my first dyke bar in New York City, I had a rude awakening. It was like transferring to a new high school. No, it was worse than that. A new junior high school. You walk into the class on the first day and everyone turns to stare. Your clothes, your hair, the way you move, it’s all wrong. You have to change everything or die a horrible and lingering death.

I guess the moral of this story is that there are some pursuits, such as lesbianism, that one can’t learn from a book, no matter the author. A more crass sort might make some tasteless jokes at this juncture about “boning up” on lesbianism, or about “hands-on experience,” but the reader can be assured this dyke will not sink to that level.

I watched the other women dancing, talking, flirting. All transactions were conducted in a lingo as incomprehensible to me as straight guy sports speak. My late-seventies disco fever look was out of place here. Everyone looked like they’d raided the closet of their bigger, older brother while he was out repairing refrigerators.

I was the only one wearing makeup.

Someone approached me: “This is a gay bar.” I shriveled up and a gust of wind blew me out into the street.

I had no skills. No lesbian skills. I was stared at, rather than cruised, at the bars. I couldn’t find a way of singnaling to another dyke that I was open for business, a friend of Dorothy, in the life, on the bus. Let alone desperately horny.

Somehow I managed a few invites to lesbian parties. I’d figured out that wearing lipstick was wrong, but I was still doing it. I’m such a congenital WASP that my lips disappear without makeup; I couldn’t imagine having sex without lipstick. I had tried to pull a lesbian look together: oversized second-hand men’s clothes, an unbuttoned black vest, but Annie Hall does not work on someone five feet tall.

Nor could I play softball. When something is thrown at me, even if it is specifically designed for that purpose, I automatically duck. All I had going for me in the lesbian skill department was ownership of a cat. Enough to break the ice, but not cinch the deal.

Certainly I couldn’t just come out and ask some other dyke to show me the ropes, so to speak. The seventies were still going on even though it was now the eighties. Feminism and lesbianism had kind of merged, become one big multinational entity with Andrea Dworkin as CEO. You had to be sneaky to get laid.

Yikes. It had been so easy with men. All you had to do was bend over at the bowling alley and something would happen.

After two years, the drought ended. I saw a sign that advertised: “Double-X-Rated Christmas Party for Women.” The party was held in the basement of a Catholic church. Perhaps the priests had passed out upstairs and had no idea what was going on. Or perhaps the priests were the drag queens working the bar. Nevertheless, I was there as soon as the doors opened. And the doors were not the only thing that opened.

I walked into the basement where the party was taking place and saw rows of thrift store tuxedoes, second-hand prom dresses. The doorperson made it clear that these outfits could be borrowed for the evening. After they checked their coats, many party-goers were borrowing outfits from the racks and disappearing into the bathroom to amend their attire. As the evening went on, I noticed more and more women trading in their flannel and denim for sharkskin and taffeta.

At this, my first encounter with the women who produced the WOW Festival and would later open the WOW Cafe in a tiny linguini-shaped storefront on East Eleventh Street, I fell in love. In love with all of the women, with their outrageousness, their unruly desire. I wanted desperately to be a part of whatever it was they were doing…if the WOW Cafe had been a support group for lesbian skeet shooters, that’s what I’d be doing now.

Instead, I found theater, or it found me. And the theater, it seemed, offered a wonderful solution to my involuntary celibacy: the casting couch. In theater you are encouraged to have sex with as many people as possible; it’s an integral part of the process. At least at WOW it seemed like the shows were almost an afterthought to the flirting, a byproduct of the endless parties where women of every imaginable gender rubbed up against each other.

This last paragraph reads like a natural cue to cross-fade to the Story of the First Girlfriend, doesn’t it? At this point, I should see a stranger across a crowded room, our eyes should lock, and the violins should swell like wieners on the grill. But this scene isn’t part of my coming-out story. Who even remembers my first girlfriend? Not me. I remember lots of bodies, I remember rooms lit by lots of small lights, and above all else, I remember lots and lots of Rolling Rock. This movie doesn’t end with a soft-focus closeup on two women kissing; this is a coming-out story that crescendos into a crowd scene. It’s a wide-angle shot. The climax of my coming-out scenario isn’t a closeup on a lesbian couple but a panorama of a lesbian world.”]

holly hughes, from what comes first, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[tainted-liquor]

✮ 4th Baby Mama‧₊˚ ⋅ 「15.10.23」 ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales

ingredients; Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

Listen, ik you said make it just one, but a part 2 is going to be made lol

It was a warm day out in Brooklyn, New York. The air gently caressed and kissed your skin, leaving your blue plaid skirt flowing as you trekked through the messy streets of Brooklyn. You paid no attention to the gunshots, explosions, or any of the...cherry-wine tinted 'spills' coming from a random trash bag in the alley. You mumbled along to the music you had blasting through your blue metallic beats, putting a slight pep in your step as Summer Walker spoke to your soul.

"I wanna start wit' yo mama, she shoulda whooped yo ass..." you grunted, giggling to yourself before swinging open the massive oak doors to Brooklyn Visions Academy. You felt rather giddy about the day ahead, knowing that you would be getting robotic babies as part of your home economics class. The problem was that you didn't know who you would be partnered with. It was all shits and giggles, and you were pretty sure the task would be as easy as ever. No matter who you were partnered with! Right?

No.

You made your way to the locker, checking your lashes and light makeup in the small mirror you had placed in the top right corner before placing all your unnecessary materials inside the navy blue metal. You did a quick fluff of your slick low bun and threw on your clear-framed glasses. You opened up your spearmint mentos gum, popping two small pieces in your mouth before closing your locker and proceeding through the bustling halls to find your friends. You lowered your headphones down to your neck, pausing the music and locating your girls all crowded together in what sounded like frantic whispers and sharp giggles. Catching up to the rest of the group, you merged into their tight circle to see what was going on as they all looked down at each other's phones.

"Yooo, what's happening? What y'all lookin' at?" You inquired whilst pulling out your phone and opening your school email. You turned your head to face your friend, Tierra, watching as the cyber-blue hue illuminated her facial features as she stared down at her screen with a hand over her mouth. Layla spoke up, nudging you gently so you could see what she was talking about, "They picked the partners for the...the fuckin' baby project at random!" She giggled, tears pricking her waterline as she flipped her screen to show you what was on her phone. You scanned through the list, eyes widening when you came across your name right next to Miles'.

"WHAT!" You shouted, breaking out into laughter with the rest of the group. "They paired me with my fuckin' ex, at least you got that quiet kid!" Tierra grunted, whacking you on the shoulder with a rolled-up homework assignment. You nearly fell on the floor, gripping Katie's shoulder while she held up upright. The idea of raising a baby, real or not, with a stranger sounded hilarious. You weren't mad, but he wasn't exactly the partner you wanted. You originally hoped for one of your girlfriends, or maybe even a cute guy from the basketball team that you could yap about later. But alas, the forms were out and the choices were final, so there was nothing more that you could do.

You were familiar with Miles; saying hi to him now and again in the hallways and always getting the same upward nod in the process. He was known to be an adept artist who wasn't big on having a large circle of friends, but that didn't mean he was weird. You held your stomach as you wiped your tears, easing into the steady flow of conversation your friends began to hold before it was time for you to head to your advisory. You waved bye to your friends before heading to Mrs. Thomas’ classroom for said advisory, where she covered the school's upcoming events and big tests we needed to be ready for. You fiddled and played with a loose curl in your bun, pulling it down and watching as it sprang back up at an instantaneous rate. 

The room was dull and filled with nothing but sleep until the bell rang, signaling for everyone to file out to their next class. You hastily grabbed your things, panicking slightly at the fact that in the next 30 minutes, you would be classified as a ‘mother’. The classroom was warm and comfortable, allowing your nerves to relax slightly as you sat in your usual seat. It didn’t take long for more voices to pour in, loud gossip and strained laughter filling the room as everyone took their respective seats. ”Girl this class finna be the death of me…how we havin’ kids at 8:35 in the morning!” Your friend Jayda mumbled, finally sitting down next to you as your teacher prepared to start today’s lesson.

“Nah that’s what I’m saying…Like, tell me how I got-” you began, cutting yourself off as soon as Ms. Kaylee cleared her throat and stood up from her desk with a warm smile. She spoke, her voice cutting clearly through the silence that hung over the room like a mistletoe over a pair with chemistry as thick as butter, “Alright, everyone! I’m sure you saw the email about your partners for your week-long project, but in case you didn’t have time or missed a couple of lessons I’ll go over everything for a couple minutes before we get started with our gender reveal!” You tensed in your seat, looking over at Jayda with wide eyes and an upside-down smile. The classroom door came swinging open, revealing a Miles who had a tiny matte-black bandage right next to his lip. His uniform jacket was missing, his tie askew, and his sleeves were rolled up to his upper bicep, displaying a ton of tiny scratches and a small bruise above the curve of his elbow. 

The teacher glared at him for what felt like a minute, calmly pulling him to the side to discuss his entrance while you glared at him, too. But you weren’t staring because he was a disruption to the classroom. He looked delicious like this…when he was finally out of his usual blue school hoodie and grey slacks. You watched as he nodded at the teacher, towering over her 5’4 stature before you felt a light tap on your arm. 

“Ayo, stop drooling girl we see you” Jayda laughed, giving her a firm eye-roll as you watched Miles stroll back to his desk and sit down. Ms. Kaylee let go of a deep sigh, shaking her head before continuing with her speech. She gave a brief explanation of what it was that we’d be doing, what the final goal was, and how we would be graded on our project. She clapped her hands together, setting out a bunch of baby holders and car seats before rolling out a massive case labeled ‘RealCare’. “Alright! When I call you and your partner's name, please come up and grab one bath bomb and a pail of water”

The people around you made quick work of finding their partners and grabbing the necessary supplies between chortles and hushed conversation. Your chest felt heavy as you talked Jayda’s ear off, nearing the order of people that you last saw on the Google form she had emailed you earlier. You perked up as soon as you heard your name, turning around to see Ms. Kaylee check off two spaces on her clipboard before beckoning the both of you to come up and grab your things. You sighed, getting up from your desk and grabbing a plain white bath bomb and a small beach pale filled with lukewarm water while Miles grunted and grabbed a car seat, muscles tensing and flexing under the weight of the surprisingly heavy chunk of plastic. He turned over to look at you, nodding his head back to his desk as a signal for you to follow him while you waited for the teacher to finish reading out the pairs. 

“Wassup, Miles” you beamed, pulling up a chair in front of his desk so you could sit face-to-face with him while you placed the sunny yellow pale on the desk, holding the bath bomb as delicately as possible in your cupped hands. He nodded upward, setting the car seat on the floor next to him and cracking his knuckles. His skin was perfectly smooth, his braids laid neatly at the tip of his collarbones and he had a skinny but lean build on him. It wasn’t long after you took note of him avoiding your gaze that the teacher spoke up, instructing you to all drop your bath bombs in the pail of water and then rinse your hands at the sink. You squealed in anticipation, making sure that Miles was watching as you dropped the chalky white bath bomb into the sparkling clear water.

The bucket exploded with color, white foam suddenly turning into shades of bright pink and pastel fuchsia. You beamed from ear to ear, pure joy and excitement illuminating your face as you joined the rest of the class in their shouts of joy, exclaiming their ‘babies’ gender at the top of their lungs. Miles smiled slightly, nodding with a content expression before he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Shortly after everyone's joyful exclamation, the teacher wasted no time in collecting everyone's attention and going over the plan for the next week. “You will need to devise a custody plan with your partner, so this means exchange numbers or whatever you need to do now. You may now all come up and select your baby” Ms. Kaylee explained and gestured to the now-open box.

You went up with Miles, quickly scooping up a pretty baby doll with deep brown skin and curly brown hair. You analyzed her little face, taking in her deep black eyes and light pink headband that came with her matching pink onesie while Miles got your baby bag full of supplies and wristbands. Miles cleared his throat, holding up his phone before mumbling “Just send me what days you want me to get her and I’ll make it work.”

You nodded, putting your number in his contacts and vice versa. “Actually,” he stated, gently taking the baby from your arms and hoisting up the bright pink baby bag. “I got her until lunch today. I’ll come find you and we’ll work sum’ out,” he shrugged as you handed him back his phone.

“Oh aight, bet. What we naming her?” You asked, attempting to reach for the car seat, but being instantly denied by Miles. “Uhh…” he mumbled, visibly blanking at the idea of having to name his baby. “Uhh…Anylah?” He smirked, attempting to cover up the fact he just thought of a name on the spot. You looked him up and down, playing over how the name sounded in your mind before nodding slowly. Miles let go of a deep breath, posture relaxing only a fraction before he reached into the bag to put on both of your orange wristbands.

“Aight, I’ll catch you at lunch,” Miles stated, making his way out of the classroom with a heavy load of baby items and a fake baby. You made your way to your remaining 4 classes, internally groaning at how fast the time was passing by.

“She ain’t even tell us these fuckin babies cry…I didn’t know that shit made noise! It started going off in the library!” Your friend Jayda moaned, attempting to shush her fussy baby she named Mariah. “The fuck you mean you didn’t know they cried…it was literally in the paper she gave us about the babies?” You asked, looking at her like she had a second head. She shrugged, eyeing you with slightly widened eyes and a smirk to silently convey that she didn’t read the forms. “JAYDA!” You giggled, half-shoving her as you opened up the doors to the cafeteria. The line was nothing short of demonic, so you decided to hop a couple of places forward with your friends who had already made it to the cafeteria.

The food was mediocre, but at least it was edible. You sat with your girls for a good 5 minutes, enjoying your food and conversing with each other before you spotted Miles making his way over. He held the baby like a football, making space for himself at your table with a low “excuse me” in between you and Tierra. “Aight so my schedule is weird cuz I have work some days, but I’ll make it work what days should I get this thing?” He asked, his voice low and stoic as he began typing away in the notes app on his phone. You gave him a playful glare, attempting to push down the smirk that was forming on your face. “Don’t call her a thing, this is your daughter,” you joked with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “But you can take…Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday!” You exclaimed, taking the baby from Miles and checking your calendar. Great, Wednesday!

“My daughter huh? Aight, I gotchu,” he sniggered before tucking his phone in his back pocket. He tapped on the table, shooting you a wink you swear you hallucinated before retreating to his group of homies without another word. Your head dropped down to your fake baby, fighting back a smirk as you submerged yourself back in your conversation.

Whatever you thought this project was going to be, you certainly didn’t anticipate anything from the road ahead.

It was 1 AM, and your arms felt sore from the constant rocking of this baby that weighed nothing less than 7 pounds. You changed what felt like 4 diapers, fed her for almost 20 minutes, and spent your night pacing through your kitchen to calm her down. You whined along with the baby, praying to whoever was listening that she’d be finished soon. You grabbed your phone from your shorts pocket, quickly dialing up Miles as a last attempt. You felt like you were intruding on his private life, but something in this goddamn world has to give.

The phone rang twice, sighing to yourself when you heard the familiar ringtone come to an abrupt stop. There was rustling, what sounded like a low breathy grunt, before Miles picked up the phone. “Yo…what’s good, whatchu need?” he mumbled, his voice sounding sickeningly velvety as he attempted to shake the sleep from his vocal cords. “Uh, hey. Anylah won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do…Can you come help, please?” You winced, balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. He made a low noise that sounded like a cross of a low hum of approval, and a groan of missed sleep before he got up, stretched, threw on a quick hoodie, and knotted his sweats. “I’ll be over in like…a couple minutes” he grumbled, hanging up almost as soon as you could say “thanks.”

He knocked at your front door not even five minutes later, leaving you to drown in his shadow as he stood over you with a tired, blank, and semi-serious expression. The frosty air from the outdoors nipped at any inch of skin it could find purchase, leaving you to beckon him inside the door as quickly as possible. You handed him the crying infant, watching as his eyes widened by a fraction before returning to their initial low post. “Damn, not even a hello?” He chuckled as he took a wailing Anylah in his arms, rocking the baby at an oddly specific angle. “I know you didn’t just pull up to my crib talkin’ like someone's absent baby father…” you joked, rolling your eyes and taking your respective place back on the couch. 

“Hello, Morales.” You commented, leaning your head on his shoulder sleepily as he sat next to you on the couch. He nodded, somehow managing to hush the baby within the first 45 seconds of holding her. You huffed, feeling slightly irritated at how he managed to finish what you were attempting to do for over an hour in only a minute. “You were rocking her…too fast,” he slurred, clearly tired as he attempted to hold his eyes open. You didn’t even realize that you had fallen asleep, attempting to reach for the baby before ultimately clocking out for the night.

You woke up feeling groggy, sluggish, and plagued by a small migraine. Both Anylah and Miles were nowhere to be found, feeling around for your phone only to grab a purple sticky note stuck to the back of your phone case.

‘Went back home.’

You sighed, shooting Miles a text immediately that let him know to not disappear like that with the doll. You got ready for school, taking a scalding hot shower and repeating your daily routine of thoroughly scrubbing and exfoliating your face. You threw on your uniform, prioritizing the aesthetic of your uniform as you tugged on some rather cutesy slouch socks. You skipped breakfast at home, opting to grab something from the cafeteria before slipping out the front door and facing the cold air once again. Damn, this day was bound to be long as hell.

You reached school, giggling at your phone down the street as you ‘bickered’ back and forth with Miles.

‘alr alr mb. I didnt think it thru.’

‘Fym you didn’t think it through? I thought I was finna fail’

‘u actin like sb baby mama rn.’

‘Ntm now’

‘my fault’

You powered off your phone, jamming the smooth plastic case into the deep pockets of your black shorts under your school skirt. Today you had a class on burping babies and how to properly dress them for the winter, eagerly anticipating the cute little coats they’d provide for your shared babydoll. You took your seat, silently doodling in your notebook until you heard the familiar cold tone fade into the classroom. “Qué quieres decir? Esta mi mamá del bebé es ahí mismo,” he chuckled, carrying both the baby bag in one hand and Anylah in the other. “Baby mama is craaazy…” the boy he was talking to muttered, looking utterly tired and vaguely annoyed.

He took his seat next to you, giving you an upward nod as he cradled Anylah in one arm while he mindlessly scrolled through his phone with the other. 

“Not you calling me your baby mother…”

"It's funny"

Tags ♡

@ashsostrangee @chessboxx @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[bookloover35]

I Wanna Merry You Someday- Jack Kelly x fem reader.

The streets of New York were alive with the hum of voices, the clatter of carriage wheels, and the hustle of people going about their day. Among the crowd, you stood, watching as a group of Newsies took a quick break, some lounging on crates, others exchanging jokes. But your eyes were fixed on one person—the boy with the wild, carefree spirit who was always at the center of everything.

Jack Kelly.

His brown hair was messy as usual, and his grin was as charming as it was mischievous. He caught your gaze and winked, sending a flutter to your heart. He always had that effect on you, ever since you first met him months ago. The connection between the two of you was instant, though it had taken you a while to admit to yourself how much you cared for him.

Jack was trouble, of that you were certain. He lived for the moment, never concerned with tomorrow, always chasing freedom. And yet, when he was around, the world felt like it was just a little bit better, a little bit more magical.

You weren't sure how it happened, but over time, you became close. Close enough to share moments of laughter, stolen kisses, and quiet nights on rooftops, looking at the stars. It was easy to pretend like nothing mattered when you were with him—like you were just two people, enjoying each other's company in a city full of chaos.

Today was different, though. There was something in the air, something that made your heart beat a little faster. Maybe it was the way the sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over everything, or the way Jack had been glancing your way more often than usual.

"Hey, (Y/N), you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna join me?" Jack called out to you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. He was leaning casually against a lamppost, his arms crossed.

You grinned, feeling your cheeks warm. "What, you missin' me already, Kelly?"

Jack shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "Just figure it'd be better to have you next to me than watchin' from a distance."

With a roll of your eyes, you walked over to him, sidestepping a few Newsies along the way. Jack straightened up as you neared, and you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes softened when they met yours. It was one of those rare moments where you saw the side of him that wasn't always visible to the world—vulnerable, sincere, like he was letting down his guard for just a second.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You're looking mighty fine today."

"Flattery won't get you far, Jack Kelly," you teased, though your heart fluttered at the compliment.

He chuckled, moving a bit closer to you. "Yeah? Well, maybe I gotta try somethin' else to get your attention."

Before you could respond, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you towards the edge of the roof where he'd taken to spending a lot of time lately, watching the world go by.

The view from the rooftop was breathtaking. The city sprawled out in front of you, buildings rising up like giants, the sun beginning its descent behind them, casting the skyline in a brilliant pink and orange hue. You leaned against the brick wall, Jack standing close beside you, both of you content in the silence that only moments like this could create.

After a few minutes, Jack spoke again, his voice quieter now, more serious.

"You ever think about what comes next, (Y/N)?" He asked, his gaze still on the horizon.

You blinked, surprised by the question. Jack Kelly wasn't the type to dwell on the future. He was always more about living in the moment, chasing the next adventure.

"What do you mean?" you asked, turning to face him.

Jack hesitated for a moment, like he was working through something in his mind. "I mean... we've got the city, we've got the Newsies, we've got all this freedom. But... I keep thinkin' 'bout what we'd do if we didn't have to keep fightin' for it, you know? What if there was somethin' more?"

Your pulse quickened. Was he talking about what you thought he was talking about?

You swallowed, your voice coming out softer than usual. "What do you want, Jack?"

He turned toward you then, his expression intense but warm. "I want you, (Y/N). All of you. Not just now, not just for today... but for the long haul. I wanna be there with you when we're old and wrinkled and still fightin' the world together. I wanna marry you one day."

Your heart stopped, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Jack Kelly, the boy who could charm the socks off anyone and always seemed to live for the moment, was standing in front of you, speaking words you never thought you'd hear. Words that made your heart swell with emotion.

"You want to marry me?" you whispered, unsure if your ears were deceiving you.

Jack laughed, but it was different from his usual carefree chuckles. There was a hint of nervousness, of hopefulness. "Yeah. I wanna marry you. And I know it might sound crazy, but I can see it, (Y/N). I can see us, a little house somewhere, kids runnin' around, maybe a dog—"

"You want a dog?" you interrupted, laughing despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest.

He smiled, a genuine, soft smile, before nodding. "Yeah, why not? I think we'd make a pretty good team. What do you say?"

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind racing. The future, the idea of forever with Jack Kelly—it felt surreal, yet perfect. He was everything you never thought you'd want, and everything you knew you'd need.

Without a word, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He stiffened at first, then relaxed into the embrace, his arms wrapping around you in return. You could feel his heart beating in time with yours.

"I say... I wanna marry you too, Jack," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

His laughter, soft and genuine, filled the space between you. "Yeah? Well, one day we'll make it happen. I promise you that."

And in that moment, as you stood there in his arms, looking out at the city together, you knew that whatever came next, you'd face it together.

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | Meet Joe and Riley

💫 Hide

A Joe Burrow x Riley Carter Fanfiction

"Love's not the hard part—timing is."

🖤 Their Story

An accidental late-night show reveal.

A whirlwind connection in New York.

A relationship built between stages, stadiums, hotel rooms, and whispered late-night calls.

But when love meets fame and privacy clashes with performance, even the strongest connection can falter. Can they find a middle ground between all or nothing?

🎤 Riley Delphine Carter

Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana

Stage Presence: Rockstar chaos meets emotional rawness

Nicknames: Ri, RiRi, Riles

Sign: Pisces

Band: The Rambles

Riley Carter is striking in a way that's hard to forget. She's got that effortlessly cool vibe that draws people in without her even trying. Her hair is a vibrant, ever-changing shade—usually some shade of blonde with a hint of strawberry, tousled and messy in a way that screams rockstar without looking forced. It's long enough to frame her face with soft waves but wild enough to look like she just stepped off stage.

Her eyes are a piercing, electric blue, bright and expressive, always reflecting her mood even when she's trying to play it cool. They're framed by thick, dark lashes that give her a natural intensity, especially when she's lost in the music. Her features are sharp but soft at the same time—a perfectly sculpted jawline balanced by a full, plush mouth that's quick to break into a mischievous grin or a teasing smirk. There's something a little untamed about her—like she's both inviting and just a bit unpredictable.

Riley's got a petite but athletic build, toned from years of performing and carrying her own gear through countless venues. She's not tall—around 5'4"—but she walks like she's six feet, carrying herself with a confidence that makes her seem larger than life. She's got curves that hint at softness but a frame that looks strong and unbreakable, like she's built to withstand whatever the world throws at her.

Her style leans into that effortless rocker aesthetic—vintage band tees that hang off one shoulder, ripped jeans that have seen better days, and beat-up leather jackets that smell faintly of cigarettes and whiskey. On stage, she dials it up—fishnets under cut-off shorts, combat boots with scuffed toes, chunky rings, and layered necklaces that catch the stage lights just right. There's almost always a hint of glitter at her temples like she's carrying a bit of the stage with her wherever she goes.

Tattoos snake up her arms—mostly delicate line work and lyrics that mean something to her, scattered across her forearms and ribs. A few are spontaneous and reckless souvenirs from late-night stops in tiny towns. She's got a nose ring on the left side and a few small hoops running up her ears, giving her that slight punk edge without looking overly done.

There's something magnetic about her, a blend of wild energy and vulnerability that makes people lean in closer without even realizing it. Whether she's on stage commanding a crowd or curled up on a couch with an acoustic guitar, Riley looks like she belongs—like every room she's in was made just for her.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Early Life and Family

• Upbringing: Raised by her grandparents after her mom had her as a teenager and struggled to be consistently present. Riley's relationship with her mom is complicated but functional—they've found a way to coexist despite the past.

• Bond with Her Grandfather: Her grandfather, whom she calls Papa, is the most important person in her life. He worked multiple jobs to keep them afloat, showing Riley what it means to be resilient and hardworking. Losing her grandmother a few years ago left a void, but it also deepened her bond with Papa.

• Music Everywhere: Growing up in New Orleans meant music was a constant presence, whether it was jazz on the streets, blues in smoky bars, or gospel from neighbors' windows. Music shaped her childhood and became an essential part of who she is.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Music and the Band

• Forming the Band: Riley met the guys who would become her bandmates during her freshman year of high school at 15. They hit it off instantly, bonding over shared ambitions and musical tastes. By the time she was 16, they were touring in the summers, playing wherever they could—even at underage venues and local events.

• The Tough Years: Those early years were rough—scraping together money from busking or playing dive bars, wondering if the hustle was worth it. But those struggles built resilience and gave Riley stories to tell through her songs.

• Finding Their Audience: The band built a loyal following through their online presence—sharing raw, unfiltered moments that made fans feel part of their journey. They were genuine, unapologetic, and unpolished, and that honesty resonated. They didn't just gain fans—they built a community.

• Chaos of Fame: Adjusting to the spotlight wasn't easy. The pressure to maintain a public persona while still being real felt like walking a tightrope. Riley never quite mastered the balance, but she kept pushing through—because music wasn't just her job, it was her lifeline.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Riley's Heart and Relationships

• Big Heart, Free Spirit: Riley's the kind of person who never meets a stranger—her energy draws people in, and she's genuinely interested in everyone's story. She believes in love and connection and doesn't hold back when it comes to caring for people.

• Believes in Love: Despite her chaotic upbringing, Riley's never been cynical about love. She believes it's real, worth fighting for, and worth the risk of getting hurt. That's why Ethan's betrayal hit her so hard—because she gave him her whole heart and trusted him, only to be blindsided when it wasn't enough for him.

• The Ethan Factor: Getting burned by Ethan didn't make her shut down or harden her heart—it just made her more determined to be honest about what she wants and to never settle for anything that feels halfway. If anything, it taught her not to accept less than she deserves.

• Unbreakable Spirit: She might be cautious about who gets close now, but she's still got that big heart and an openness that feels magnetic to the people around her. She's learned to trust her instincts and look for consistency instead of charm.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Why Music Matters

• Home on Stage: Performing is where Riley feels most like herself. There's something about being up there, with the lights and the music and the energy of the crowd, that feels like being seen in the most honest way.

• Music as a Lifeline: Writing songs is how she processes everything—pain, joy, loneliness. Music never leaves, never betrays her. It's not just her passion; it's how she makes sense of herself.

• Connection Through Music: It's not just about performing for people—it's about sharing pieces of herself and knowing someone out there is hearing it and maybe finding comfort or validation in it.

🏈 Joe Lee Burrow

Hometown: Athens, Ohio

Persona: Deliberate strength. Unspoken depth. Earned confidence.

Nicknames: Joe Brrr, Joey B, Joe Shiesty, Joe Cool, Joey Franchise

Sign: Sagittarius

Team: Cincinnati Bengals

Joe Burrow's personality is grounded, unassuming, and deeply rooted in quiet confidence. He's not the loudest guy in the room, but his presence is impossible to ignore because he doesn't need to demand attention—it just gravitates toward him naturally. Joe's got that calm, unshakeable demeanor that makes people feel safe in his orbit, like nothing can rattle him, even when the pressure's at its peak.

He's incredibly disciplined—both in his career and in his personal life. Years of pushing himself to be the best have made him relentless when it comes to his goals. Whether it's football or figuring out how to navigate his relationship with Riley, Joe's approach is thoughtful and strategic. He's a planner, but not in a way that feels calculated—more like he just knows how to see the whole field, both literally and metaphorically.

Beneath the stoicism and laser focus, there's a dry, understated humor that catches people off guard. Joe's got a knack for slipping in one-liners with a straight face that leaves people wondering if he's joking or not. He doesn't talk just to talk—every word feels deliberate like he's weighed it before it left his mouth. That makes his rare, unguarded moments feel even more significant because they're intentional, not just reactions.

There's also a warmth to Joe that shows in subtle ways—like how he takes care of the people he loves without making a big deal about it. He's not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but his actions always speak louder than words. He shows up quietly and consistently, whether it's for his family, his friends, or Riley. It's not that he's afraid of emotion—he just believes in proving how he feels rather than saying it outright.

He's fiercely loyal, both to his team and the people who matter to him. When Joe lets someone into his inner circle, they're there for good. But trust doesn't come easy—he's careful about who gets close because he knows how messy life can get when too many people are in your business. That's why he's protective of his relationship with Riley—he knows what public scrutiny can do, and he wants to shield what they have from becoming tabloid fodder.

Joe is competitive to his core. Losing doesn't sit well with him, and it's not about pride as much as it is about feeling like he didn't live up to his potential. He's relentless in his pursuit of greatness but humble about his success, more interested in doing the work than basking in the accolades. That focus makes him easy to respect but hard to read at times because he doesn't give much away.

With Riley, he's different—more open, more willing to let down his guard. She brings out a lighter side in him, coaxing out laughter and vulnerability in a way no one else has. He likes that she doesn't treat him like the guy on the posters or the quarterback in the spotlight—she just sees him as Joe, and that's a relief he didn't know he needed.

Joe's got a strong sense of responsibility and takes pride in being reliable. Whether it's for his team or his personal life, he shows up and does what needs to be done. He doesn't chase drama or make grand gestures—instead, he's consistent, reliable, and real. At the end of the day, he just wants to be seen for who he really is beyond the headlines and expectations. And with Riley, he feels like that might actually be possible.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Early Life and Family

Joe Burrow grew up in Athens, Ohio, as the youngest of three brothers in a tight-knit, sports-centered family. His dad, Jimmy, was a longtime football coach, and his family's unwavering support shaped Joe's dedication to the game from a young age. Football wasn't just a sport—it was woven into the fabric of his life. Whether it was backyard games with his brothers or breaking records in high school, Joe's work ethic was ingrained early.

In college, Joe faced adversity head-on. After limited playing time at Ohio State, he made the tough decision to transfer to LSU—a move that ended up defining his career. At LSU, he went from a transfer underdog to a Heisman-winning National Championship quarterback in just two seasons. That experience shaped his outlook—nothing is given, and every inch has to be earned. The success didn't change him, though—it just reinforced his commitment to working hard and keeping his head down.

When it comes to relationships, Joe's just as steady as he is on the field. He dated Olivia Holzmacher for several years, starting from their time at Ohio State. Their relationship was solid and built on mutual respect, but the pressures of his rising career and the changing dynamics of his life made it hard to maintain. They ended things amicably about a year before he met Riley—no bad blood, just an understanding that they were moving in different directions. Olivia remains one of the few people who truly understands what it's like to be part of Joe's life at that level, and there's a quiet respect there, even after the breakup.

Adjusting to life as an NFL star was a learning curve. Cincinnati embraced him as their hometown hero, and Joe took that responsibility seriously. He's mindful of how he carries himself and careful about what he lets the public see—he's protective of his image because he knows how easily it can be twisted. Despite the fame, he stays grounded by keeping his circle small and surrounding himself with people who knew him before the NFL spotlight.

In terms of friendships, he's tight with his college teammates and his core group from home. He keeps his social media minimal, using it more to support causes than to share his personal life. Fame didn't change him, but it did make him more guarded—especially when it comes to relationships. Joe's cautious about anyone who seems more interested in the hype than the person he is beneath it all.

Meeting Riley was unexpected, and he wasn't looking for anything serious at the time. But something about her energy pulled him in—how she didn't treat him like a celebrity or a franchise quarterback, just a guy trying to navigate life. She's the first person since Olivia who made him want to break his own rules about keeping people at arm's length. With Riley, he feels like he can be himself without the pressure of living up to everyone's expectations. She sees him—not just the football player, but the guy who still has doubts, who's still figuring out how to balance ambition with the desire to live a life that's more than just the next game.

Their connection caught him off guard, but Joe's not one to shy away from something that feels right. Even if it scares him a little, he's willing to put in the work because Riley doesn't just challenge him—she makes him feel like maybe he doesn't have to have everything figured out all the time. And for someone who's spent his whole life chasing perfection, that's something entirely new.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

NFL Life

• The weight of a franchise rests on his shoulders—and he carries it like it's nothing.

• Learned early how to keep his circle small and his private life private.

• Strategic, focused, but never arrogant. Quiet in the way only the strong can be.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

His Vibe

• 6'4", storm-gray eyes, sharp jawline, and a smile that only shows when he means it.

• Style: Effortless and intentional—vintage crewnecks, worn-in jeans, low-key statement sneakers. Hoodies that look lived-in, not sloppy. Beanies when he's tired. Graphic tees when he's in a mood.

• Presence: Quiet magnetism. Doesn't dress to impress—just knows exactly what works for him. Confidence in the subtleties.

• Energy: The guy who's always watching the room, not trying to own it—but somehow still does.

Read Hide Here

[desertfangs]

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I do keep outtakes but usually only longer ones and I just checked for the most recent fics I've posted and I don't think I have any, which is not typical for me. Either that means I just removed some sentences or reworded things, or somehow lost the outtakes.

BUT I was especially looking for Look Right Through since it's a longer fic and while there aren't any outtakes I can find, I do have a false start. When I started this fic, I wanted to do something plotty that would force Armand, Marius, and Daniel to work together to solve a problem. And my first inclination was to have someone show up and ask Daniel for help. It wasn't working so I ended up going in a different direction, where Daniel finds a body in the house instead, but I don't know, I may eventually write use that premise.

Beneath the cut is the first beginning I wrote for what became Look Right Through, complete with Daniel wearing his shabbiest clothes for funsies:

Daniel jolted at the knock on the door. It wasn’t typical for people to come knocking on Trinity Gate’s front door. It wasn’t unheard of—god knew between Armand and Benji, Amazon packages were a regular occurrence—but at eleven o’clock at night, it was a little strange. It got stranger when he reached out with his sense and realized the unexpected visitor was a vampire.He set down his iPad and walked to foyer. The pounding on the door continued, so hard Daniel was worried they’d break the door. He was tempted to tell them to hold their damn horses but instead, crept up to the peephole and looked out. He frowned. The immortal was a woman who appeared to be in her thirties or so—near Daniel’s mortal age—with her messy brown hair in a bob. She was frenzied, looking behind her as if scared she was being pursued. She turned back and pounded on the door again. Daniel hesitated. Trinity Gate was, technically, the official New York Coven House, but he felt strange inviting an unknown immortal inside. Armand was out at some art fundraiser Daniel had managed to avoid going to, purely because Armand knew those people and they knew him to be with his “husband” Louis, who was in Paris. Daniel felt ill-equipped for this and suddenly wished Marius had made good on his promise to come to New York for the summer. He ran his fingers through his short ashen hair and then, after taking a breath, opened the door. The woman looked surprised to see him. Then again, Daniel was probably not what she expected, and it didn’t help that he was currently wearing sweatpants and a David Bowie t-shirt. “I seek protection from the Court,” she said, voice high and full of fear. “Can you help me?” “Yeah, of course,” Daniel said, moving back and gesturing for her to come inside. He poked out his head and looked down the street and out across the street into Central Park. He didn’t see or sense another immortal or anything threatening, but he wasn’t always convinced of the accuracy of his Mind Gift. He shut the door and then, for good measure, locked it, not that the deadbolt would do much against another immortal. Armand had other security measures for that. “What exactly are you seeking protection from?” Daniel asked. The woman was shaking, he realized, and deathly pale. She had marks on her wrists, dark bruises that were fading, but slowly. She hadn’t fed tonight, he gathered, and from what he could tell, she was fairly new in the blood. She looked Daniel over and frowned slightly. “You’re a vampire, so I assume this is the right place.” “Yeah, it is. Sorry. I should have… I’m Daniel. The official Coven Representative is out right now.” Daniel pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him.” Daniel texted “Court Emergency.” And then a second later, realized that could mean anything and Armand was sure to panic if he thought any of those he loved were in danger. “Stranger showed up here, wants our help.” The woman was looking around the foyer, still hugging herself. “What’s your name?” Daniel asked her. He should have asked that first, but he wanted to know what sort of situation he’d just let through the door. “Hadley,” she said, smiling faintly. It didn’t reach her eyes. Daniel’s phone buzzed. “On my way,” was Armand’s only reply. Good. Relief washed over him. He didn’t want to be handling this alone. “And what’s got you so scared?” Daniel asked her. She swallowed and shook her head. “He’s trying to kill me.” Daniel frowned. “Who?” “My maker.” Daniel winced involuntarily. “Why?” Hadley stared at him and did not answer. He figured the sweatpants weren’t exactly giving him an air of authority, but then, his plans for the evening had been to finish the Sunday Crossword on his iPad and maybe boot up the Playstation until Armand got home, at which point he’d hoped to ditch clothes entirely.

[lala1267]

Her Property (Part 2)

Summary: She got what she wanted.

Warnings: smut but not too bad, breaking into a hotel room?

Aria was spralled out on her pink satin queen bed. The headboard was decorated with fairy lights and Polaroids of Elvis performing on the grand stage. The pillows were in shapes of love hearts and flowers. Her hair hugged the satin sheets, and her dress hiked up to her thighs. She lay there just staring at the giant diamond chandler that hung above her. Her brain was clouded with thoughts.

"I want Elvis, I need Elvis."

She whispered to herself as she remained stuck in her lustful haze. She was willing to do anything to have her man, anything. The sound of the television echoed around the pink room. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her body jolted as she heard,

"Elvis is in New York."

Coming from the television. She instantly sat up. Her bare feet hit the shiny wooden floor before she ran over to the television at lightning speed. She got on her knees in front of it as her bambi eyes watched the screen like a hawk. Her messy hair and her eerie look only added to her insanity.

"Elvis is in New York City for an interview on 5th Street. He is predicted to be there at 4pm. He is said to be staying at a hotel nearby."

That was all that Aria needed to make her insane thoughts a reality. She looked at the rather large clock that hung on her pink painted wall.

"3.10pm"

She said to herself before getting up and rushing to her closet. She threw all of her clothes on the floor and on her bed until she found the perfect outfit. She picked out a short tight dress that hugged her figure perfectly. It was a cherry red, and it was studded with expensive Ruby's that gleamed and twinkled in the light. She had also picked out a pair of black dolly heels and a black ribbon to sit in her blond luscious curls. Her makeup was perfect. She was perfect. She grabbed her handbag and rushed out of the door.

She walked over to 5th Street. The cold breeze hit her pretty face and pushed her golden hair back. She noticed a big crowd of people and a large black limousine.

"Elvis."

She said to herself before making her way to the crowd. Women screamed like animals and men scoffed as their girlfriends worshipped the godly man that graced their presence. Elvis stepped out of the limo and began to sign autographs and take pictures. He had a smile on his face as always. He was dressed in a silk button-up long-sleeved t-shirt that was colourful. He wore some classic black flares, and of course, he wore his signature gold belt. His dark shades covered his dreamy eyes. His black tarr hair shielded the top part of his shades. He towered over the dozens of women and even the men.

Aria finally got to the crowd, but by the time she arrived, Elvis was already inside. Her heart sunk slightly as she looked at the empty limousine. But she wasn't going to give up that easily. She saw a rather large looking security guard standing near the entrance of the building. She quickly walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder with her acrylic nail that was studded with little diamonds. The man turned around and looked down at her with a frown.

"What?"

He grunted.

"Do you know where the hotel is that Elvis is staying in by any chance?"

She asked politely. She put on her best puppy eyes and stood like a lady. The man looked down at her before pointing to a local hotel that was right across the road. Aria's eyes followed his hand. She nodded before rushing over to the hotel.

She ran across the street as cars honked their horns at her. She stopped in the middle of the street and faced one of the cars.

"Shut up!"

She shouted at the driver before walking off and flicking her hair. She finally got to the hotel. She walked through the entrance as if she owned the place. She saw some of the Memphis Mafia members in the lobby. They were already looking at her up and down. She wasn't surprised. She was a very pretty girl. She swayed her hips and swung her long hair as she walked elegantly over to the vending machine. Her heels were clicking on the marble floor that she graced. She pretended to choose one of the items. It was only a matter of time until she would have the Memphis Mafia at their knees for her.

"3, 2, 1..."

She slowly and quietly counted down.

"Ma'am, don't worry, I can buy ya something from that, I will pay."

Jerry schilling said as he came rushing over to the beauty queen. His blonde hair and smart suit were quite attractive, but Aria was here for Elvis, not Jerry. She turned around to look at the handsome man in his eyes. A sexy grin formed on her pink glossy lips as her long black eyelashes batted.

"Oh, I couldn't accept that."

She said in a high-pitched voice as she wafted her small jeweled out hand. Jerry was quick to respond.

"Oh, no, I can't let a pretty girl like you pay."

He said as he stepped closer to her. Aria smiled slightly as she looked up at him.

"Well in that case, I'll have a cherry cola."

She said as she looked at him with her bambi eyes. Jerry nodded before pressing a few buttons and inserting a few coins into the vending machine. He patiently waited for the cola to come out. He grabbed it and gently handed it over to Aria, who was drowning in her own ego.

"Could I get your name, my lovely?"

"My name is Aria."

She said in a flirtatious tone.

"Well, Aria, that's a pretty name. Tell me what you are doing here."

"I'm just booking a room for the night."

She said.

"I'm also staying here for the night. I don't know if you know already but I work for Elvis and he's staying at this hotel. He's staying in room 222, and I'm in room 234."

He said. He followed his sentence with a flirtatious wink. This was exactly what Aria wanted to hear. Aria smiled and tucked a hair behind her ear before she continued to make small talk with Jerry for what seemed like forever. Once she was finished she walked up to the receptionist and booked her room.

"What room would you like to book ma'am?"

The receptionist lady asked politely.

"Room 221 please, and for one night."

Aria said kindly.

"Ok ma'am."

"Oh, wait. Could you please give me an extra set of keys, I stayed at this hotel before and I lost them, its always better to have a backup."

She said as she fake smiled at the lady. The lady turned around to the key sections. Many different numbers were wrote onto each slot, representing each room.

"Your room 221, so this must be yours?

The receptionist asked.

"Mine is the one that says 222. Another man said that he would have to put my set of keys in the 222 slot since there wasn't any space."

She said as she pointed to the 222 slot. The receptionist furrowed her brows in confusion but she let it slide. Once the receptionist was fully turned around, Aria had to cover her cheeky grin with her hand. The receptionist turned back around and handed her the keys before working again.

"Thankyou ma'am."

She said before walking off with a skip in her step. She walked into the elevator and pressed the button for floor 8. She turned around to look at the mirror that was polished perfectly. She began to rummage through her handbag. She pulled out some lip gloss that was a baby pink. She carefully applied the substance to her plump lips before blowing a kiss to herself. The bell rang to signal that she had reached floor eight. She turned around whilst putting the lip gloss back into her bag. As the doors opened, a large smile cascaded over her face. She walked out of it like a happy child.

She made her way to her room. She fiddled with the keys and turned the handle until it unlocked. She walked in and shut the door behind her. She didn't think twice before throwing her stuff onto the bed and walking straight back out. She checked her watch once she was in the corridor. It's was 4.50pm.

Elvis would be back any minute. She quickly pulled out the silver keys that had the number "222" engraved onto the shiny metal. She sneakily unlocked Elvis's door whilst she looked around suspiciously. She heard a click as she slowly pushed open Elvis's door. She quietly stepped into the dark room. Her doll eyes scanned the room briefly before she shut the door.

She flicked a light switch, and she watched as the luxurious room light up. It was beautiful. A large vanity sat itself next to the bathroom door, and a grand king bed was placed neatly next to a wall. Her heels hit the purple carpet beneath her as she explored the room. She walked up to the nightstand. It seemed that Elvis had already been in here since his wallet and belongings were sitting there. She carefully grabbed the wallet with her small hands and opened it. Her sparkling eyes widened as she saw the hundred dollar bills that were stashed in there like they were nothing. But her eyes were quickly hooded when she saw a small picture in a small pocket within the wallet. Her fingers slid into the pocket and pulled out the thin paper.

It was Elvis doing a funny pose with another woman. The woman had jet black hair, just like Elvis's. She was wearing an expensive looking dress. Her hand was placed on his face. Aria's heart sunk and shattered as she saw the large diamond ring on the woman's finger. It couldn't be. She turned the picture over to reveal Elvis's hand righting. It read,

"My beautiful wife."

Aria seemed to be stuck or even frozen. Her fists bawled, and her cheeks grew red. Her teeth grinded against eachover.

"Wife, my ass."

She said through her teeth to herself as she forcefully shoved the picture back into the wallet. She threw the wallet onto the nightstand before walking over to the vanity. She bent down to look into her reflection. She began to apply some makeup. Her hands were trembling with anger as she did so.

"He is mine, and I'll prove it."

She said as she angrily applied her lip gloss. Once she was done, she stormed over to the king bed and sat herself down. She hid her anger by plastering a mistevious grin on her smug face. Her hands ran through her blonde hair before she brushed out any creases in her sexy dress. She crossed her model legs and waited patiently for Elvis.

Not long after, the door knob moved and jolted until the door pushed open. The light from the hallway shot into the room before Elvis stood tall in the doorway. He closed the door and slipped his shoes off. He placed his stuff onto the small table that stood beside the door. Aria's smile only grew wider. Elvis turned around. He furrowed his brows and froze for a moment. He looked at Aria in horror. Aria played with her hair as she waited for Elvis to speak.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?!"

He said as he raised his voice. His fists clenched as he looked at Aria, who stood up from the bed. She slowly walked over to him.

"Don't worry about that."

She said as she stepped closer to him. Her alluring eyes locked with his icey blues.

"What do you want?"

He asked in a fed up tone as he realised who she was. Aria's brows furrowed, and she stepped closer.

"I just wanted to suprise you. What's wrong with that?"

"You fucking broke into my hotel room goddammit!"

Elvis shouted as his eyes filled with fury. This only feuled Aria's ego. She put her index finger against his plump lips as her other hand rested on his chest.

"Hush baby, no need to get angry."

She whispered seductively as she felt his hot breath on her face. Elvis's chest rose up and down.

"You need to leave."

He said sternly. Aria was only inches away from his handsome face. It was so crazy that she was able to haunt Elvis. She was like his shadow.

"Aww, come on, we can have some fun."

She said as she looked into his dreamy eyes.

"I have a wife."

He said as he broke eyecontact. Aria looked at him with a grin on her face.

"Well, that didn't stop you last time, did it?"

She giggled softly. Elvis rolled his eyes before looking at her.

"I'm not like that anymore, I'm a changed man."

He said.

"Oh shut up, don't bullshit me. You can't be a "changed man" in a month."

Aria looked at him as her eyes hooded. Elvis didn't reply. He just looked to the floor. Aria carresed his cheek with her fingers, she looked up at him.

"I know you want me."

She whispered. No reply.

"I can treat you better then that basic bitch can. I can make you feel real good."

No reply. She was so menacing and alluring, something about her was so magnetic. It was like she had a secret power.

"I'll make ya wish that you put the ring on my finger. Just let me make ya feel -"

Her sentence was suddenly interrupted as Elvis grabbed her head and kissed her aggressively. His hands got trapped on her hair as his tongue danced around hers. Aria's hands trailed his body before he forcefully picked her body up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as her hands latched onto his face as she kissed him. He walked over to the bed and placed her on the satin sheets. She looked up at him as he began to unbutton his trousers. Her menacing grin appeared once again. She bit her lip as she watched him strip. Once he was bare, he hiked Aria's dress up to her waist and pulled her panties off aggressively. He threw them to the floor. He dragged her body towards his and began to thrust into her like it was his last day. He was so aggressive and strong yet so sexy and handsome. Her moans filled the room as her body bounced up and down. Her angelic moans were like music to his ears. Elvis grunted into her ear like an animal. His big hands gripped her waist tightly. He squeezed her to the point where it hurt, but she didn't care. She looked at the sweat that dripped from his head and soaked into the smooth sheets. His hair bounced. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. It was like he was letting his built-up rage out on her. Almost as if she was an object. Her lininen curls were now messy and frizzy.He slowed down once he reached his high. Aria's moans got quieter as she passed her orgasm. Elvis layed on top of her body, his chest heaving and his heart beating.

"Oh, I love you."

Aria said breathlessly into his ear. Elvis got up and began to put his trousers back as he looked down at Aria. Her hair was messy, and her cheeks were red.

"You make me do some crazy things."

He said before chuckling. Aria smiled before sitting up. Elvis walked over to his wardrobe and got changed into some boxers. He grabbed a t-shirt of his and threw it at Aria. Aria looked up at him confused.

"Put it on, you're staying here with me."

Elvis said. A large smile invaded Aria's face as she looked at him. Her heart began to beat faster as her blood coursed through her veins. Her dimpled cheeks and ruby lips enhanced as he looked at her. She quickly put the clothes on like it was her mission. Elvis lay down in the bed as he watched her change. Once she finished, she turned around to look at Elvis.

"C'mere honey."

He said with his southern drawl as he looked at her with a grin. She walked over to him, and she was pulled into his arms. She lay on top of him as he cuddled her like a baby. His hands stroked her body as his breath blew on her. This was all she ever wanted, and she got it. The smell of his cologne and the heat of his body. It was pure bliss. She smelt of white roses and felt as fragile and satiny as her hair. She lifted her head to look into his glittering eyes. She smiled as she looked at him. His long eyelashes and thick brows were so angelic and sexy. He bent his head down towards her and placed a candy sweet kiss onto her forehead, making her eyes flutter shut. She had finally got what she wanted.

[earth-7103984]

Victoria Von Doom - Doctor Doom's greatest creation

You might look at this girl and, besides the dirty clothes and messy hair, think she's just a regular girl, but no. She is a Doombot!

She originates from a line of Doombots that were meant for espionage and blending in with people. Doctor Doom, however, considered the product to be inferior, so he ordered for the whole line to be destroyed. Victoria was the only survivor.

After managing to crawl away from the pieces of her fellow doombots, she fell into the sea. She was moved around by the currents for a few days, before reactivating herself on emergency power. She used this energy to swim and swim and swim, eventually getting to the shores of New York City. Once there, she stole a green sheet and used it to cover herself, fashioning it into a hood.

Once in New York, living in the streets she started plotting her revenge against her creator. She had inherited his intelligence and his ego, but unfortunately not his magical abilities or his wealth. Still, she was hellbent on taking him out and taking her rightful place on the Latverian throne.

She made several plans, but all of them failed. Some of them even being stopped by Spider-Woman (Spindel). This led Victoria to realize that she wouldn't get far without funds or minions, though she did have her sights in a candidate. Jr was because of this that she used her intellect and skills to figure out Spider-Woman's identity and breaking into her house, demanding for Spindel to become her minion. Of course, Spindel wouldn't be okay with this, but she knew that if she refused, she'd either keep trying, or go back to causing trouble out there, SK she decided to accept, thinking she could nudge her in the right direction.

Personality wise... Victoria is arrogant, egotistical, self centered and incredibly proud. She, of course, has the intellect to back this up. She has bitter hatred towards Doctor Doom, cursing him for "casting out his greatest creation". She also has a one sided rivalry with Reed Richards, though he probably wouldn't be able to tell you who she is. Since she started living in Spindel's bedroom, she had mellowed out quite a bit.

Aside from her genius level intellect, Victoria has the incredible enhanced strength of a Doombot, which rivals that of Ben Grimm's. Since she was supposed to be a stealth model, she requires eating and drinking to keep her energy reserves up.

As for some non in universe story, I don't have much. I wanted to make a new character from the verse and, with some help from a friend we came up with Victoria.

Art commissioned from @Angelesrevill_ on Twitter.

[koinomegaluvr]

If you have any lore/info you'd like to share abt corey/coreymichi I'd love to hear it! (I love his design. Such a little guy.)

thank you 🥹 I am genuinely flabbergasted anyone is curious about corey jacob “cj” larkin……

The general plot of his story is that he’s an american foreign exchange student who is essentially “shipped off” to another country for a year to study and make better of himself.

…corey is a 15 year old boy from new york city and comes from a shitty neighbourhood and a shitty school (as if he actually attends school to begin with lol)

…he’s known to be quite volatile bc he struggles with violent anger issues and a nicotine addiction. His anger issues stem from untreated, moderate to severe ADHD and a rocky upbringing (dad’s in jail, mom has issues. His anger outbursts were a lot worse when he was a smaller kid), but he attends community counselling for his issues and is on mood stabilizers for his anger. When he takes them, he’s a lot more lethargic and nonchalant in his day to day life..

…nearly his entire friend group all have unspecified gang affiliations, except for him and his best friend and though he tries to stay out of that business, he is still valued by a lot of his gang friends…and alas still ends up in a lot of trouble with the law, regardless. He steals for his buddies a lot, beats on others when he’s mad, particularly on a rich spoiled brat kid named Riley, spends nights in jail/juvie…he gets arrested for something a lot more serious and narrowly misses getting tried as an adult for it, but i’ll go more in depth into that possibly later or on a separate post…

On his literal first night in Japan, he accidentally runs head-on into Takemichi on the street making michi drop his food on the ground. This triggers him to absolutely HATE corey with a burning passion—but like. how could he not. Corey looks like an entitled tourist, speaks clumsy japanese, and has a standoff-ish and lethargic personality…

…so for the entirety of the summer break leading up to the start of school, Takemichi and his boys pick fights (not just ass whooping either) with Corey, and much to Takemichi and Corey’s anguish they end up attending the same school.

…they start become more friendly with one another after Corey is tasked with helping Takemichi with his math lessons (my man’s is failing so hard), and with every study session, they grow to understand one another more and more and there are homoromantic undertones to their friendship

also michi doesn’t really tell Corey about Toman business bc he doesn’t wanna involve some random american in that shit (and i’m undecided if i even want corey to have any connection with toman to begin with because he doesn’t rest fit into all that…but…we’ll see…), so this is precisely where the lore gets messy and needs some revising….

[cowboytumbleweeds]

Name: Toby "TJ" Jarvis Age: 32 years old Gender: Non-binary, they/them Occupation: Tattoo Artist and Owner at Permanent Record Faceclaim: Naomi McPherson Height: 5'9 Build: Long, slender Sexuality: Queer Smokes: Yes Drinks: Yes Tattoos: Random patchwork tattoos on arms Piercings: Ears, sometimes nose

BIOGRAPHY.

tw: murder, imprisonment, police misconduct, racism, transphobia

TJ was always something of a weird kid. They watched The Exorcist and Nightmare on Elm Street way too young, could recount Halloween shot by shot. They wanted to dress up as Ghostface or Jason Voorhees, checked out books about death at the local library, drew artwork of skulls, graves, animal bones. It was a harmless interest, or so their parents thought.

Toby never liked their name, and from a young age they started going by Toby Jarvis, partly because they liked the sound and partially inspired by one of their favorite horror protagonists, Tommy Jarvis from the Friday the 13th Franchise.

In their senior year of high school, TJ fell in love. They were an odd couple, the artsy kid who was a little too enthusiastic about Edgar Allen Poe, and the captain of the cheerleadering squad, but they worked. TJ's girlfriend Hayley was a well-respected straight-A student on track to do great things, and she supported Toby's artistic endeavors, but high school was rarely a place where life long commitments were made, and the two had a messy break up, just as teenagers do.

When Hayley disappeared shortly after the break-up, and her body was found a few days later, it was almost inevitable that Toby get the blame. They were just about every kind of outsider; queer, trans, biracial. Stoned and alone at the time of the death, Toby was left without an alibi, and under local pressure to solve the case, the cops cut corners, twisting the evidence to fit Toby into the role of villain. They twisted Toby's interest in horror, their quirkiness, their drug use, all of it to fit a narrative that suited their agenda. And it worked. At seventeen years old, Toby was sentenced to life in prison.

Some of the other inmates and guards had a soft spot for them because they were mostly well-behaved, respectful, hard-working, so they were treated relatively well, all things considered, but prison was still no place for a teenager. Some of the things they witnessed and personally experienced still keep TJ up at night. They did whatever programs and education they could, the only real rules they broke involving learning to tattoo with ink and tools made from contraband and practicing on the other inmates.

On the outside, their family never stopped fighting for their innocence, and after enough pressure, a media campaign, and advocates fighting for reform, they managed to have evidence re-tested, have the case re-investigated. It was discovered that the police had ignored evidence that pointed to TJ's innocence, failing to turn it over to the defense, and that they had failed to test critical evidence which came back linked to a drifter who'd been jailed for another murder in Pennsylvania some years after Hayley's death. Their conviction was overturned, and TJ was able to go home.

Upon their release, Toby sued the state of New York for the police misconduct in their case, receiving a hefty settlement. They put the money towards buying a little place for themselves, supporting themselves during a tattoo apprenticeship, the legal fees associated with changing their legal name and documents, and top surgery. They bought a tattoo shop they called Permanent Record, and Toby was given a chance to start fresh, to try to put the pieces back together after a decade behind bars.

[chaosdancer12]

Glitched Out AU - Gales of Song

Sakura took a deep breath as she glanced around the attic of the farmhouse. Everything was quiet. Three turtles were taking up their usual guest beds here, and they were sound asleep. The farmhouse was their escape from the busy streets of New York. They came out here every summer now, just to get away from the city.

From the memories…

But despite that, there would always be a bed here that would stay messy. Even when they would leave, they would always leave that bed messy. It was like it was waiting for it’s owner to return, to crawl into it, and hide under it’s covers, to play a game when they should have been sleeping.

The farmhouse was still the way that it was from the last time that the owner of the empty bed was here, even when it had been changed due to the passage of time… Wires and pipes had been replaced and upgraded, Wi-Fi had been added, walls had been repainted, the roof had been retiled, and a small playground had been added, but what the owner of the empty bed had left behind, hadn’t been touched.

Sakura started out of a window, watching as snow fell. It was winter, and they had come up here to take a break from the busy streets of a New York that was getting ready for Christmas.

Making sure that the three turtles were fast asleep, she slipped out of her bed, tucking her pillows under the covers, to make it look like she was still there, before she changed into her day clothes. She also released her hair from the braid that she kept it in, patting the loose fluffy black and pink strands down, so that it didn’t go all over the place.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the red fabric that she had placed on a nearby chair, and she unraveled it. There were obvious snitches on it, indicating that it used to be something else.

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she slowly pulled the garment on, smoothing down the wrinkles, and letting it settle on her. It was red, and it’s final form was a dress that looked like a poncho, one that swamped her. She then reached out, and she grabbed the orange fabric that had been placed on her bed side table, and she just spent a few minutes holding it, gently rubbing her thumbs over the stitching around a pair of holes in the fabric… eyeholes…

From when it had been used by someone else.

"Mikey…"

She held the piece of orange fabric close to the area over her heart, as memories of her brother, her 'twin', flashed through her head.

She missed him so much.

Taking another deep breath, she started to tie the ends of the mask around her neck, making sure that it was resting properly around her neck. She then carefully opened a window, and she climbed out of it, shutting it after herself. 

The falling snow quickly started to find a home in her hair, becoming speckles of white in her dark hair, as she climbed up the roof, and she sat down, with her back against a chimney. She then looked up at the grey sky, holding a hand out to catch some of the falling snow.

She gently blew, and the melting snow flew out of her hand, to start dancing in the wind. She watched as it drifted away from her, heading towards the horizon. She could see that the sky was starting to turn orange, the sun was rising.

Sakura stood up, and she brushed the snow that had found a home on her, off, as she slowly started to walk forwards.

"La la la… La la la… La lala…" She stopped singing, swallowing around the lump in her throat, before she tried again.

"Gales of song, guide me through the storm…" Her hands were shaking, but she couldn’t stop now. She had to do this.

"On the wings of a small, simple melody. Words take flight and soar, they carry me… A world we’ll see…"

She grabbed at the mask that was hung around her neck.

"Looking for a farewell, I pull the threads. A life without you… I cannot accept, I can’t tell that lie. I can’t let go!"

She heard, and felt, her voice growing stronger, and louder, as she started to spin around, feeling her feet fall into a series of movements that she had been doing all of her life. "But now that you’re gone, I have to move on! Seems like everyone, just smiles, staring at the sun! But what about me? Tell me how I will know, where I should go?!"

Pressure was building up in the corners of her eyes, and she pushed it away. It wasn’t the right time for that, she would deal with it, later.

"Oh gales, you sing and guide me!"

She didn’t see the eyes that were watching her.

"I walk alone. There’s more to life I have to know! It’s just me, lost, so far away from home! Alone, I shut myself in. Still, the winds howl, they call, and their voices lead me, gales of song, guide me through the storm! Let the melody lift me high, I’ll be me!"

Sakura felt her voice crack during that last note, before she fell to her knees, feeling just how cold the snow was, as it started to leak through her jeans, as hot tears started to roll down her face, and she watched, through the curtain of hair that covered her eyes, as they fell onto Mikey’s mask.

"Gales of song, please stay by my side…" She softly sang, trying her best not to break down, and actually cry. "Winds of love, breathe into my life…"

She almost jumped, when she felt a hand place itself on her left shoulder, and she looked up, to see a familiar red mask.

Rapheal didn’t say anything, and he silently picked her up, covering both of them with a blanket.

"I miss him Raphie…" She eventually said, after he had climbed back into the attic, taking her with him. "It’s just not fair. We’re living the life that he should be living. He should be here too."

"I know, but we can’t change what happened." Rapheal sighed, nobody really liked talking about the hole that Mikey had left behind. "Ya just have to remember, tomorrow will come, ya can’t stop it."

She didn’t respond to that, even when Rapheal sat down on the bed. "Tomorrow’s another chance fer a miracle."

"I thought that you didn’t believe in those?"

"With how many times that knucklehead has pulled one outta nowhere? I have ta start believing in them." Rapheal chuckled. "I bet that, soon, we’ll be waking up to the sound of him bragging about being the ‘Battle Nexus Champion’ again."

Sakura smiled, remembering the trophy back home. "Yeah, and then, it’s going to be him bragging about the family being Champions…  Do you remember the faces when I pulled off a win?'

Rapheal laughed. He knew that piece of news would thrill Mikey, after all, he had been the most disappointed that Sakura had been too young to take part in the tournament that he had won. He would be so proud to see Sakura;s statue in the hall where the winners of the Battle Nexus had statues created in their honour.

"Do you think that we will see him again?" She asked him.

"We have ta." He gave her a one armed hug. "Anything’s possible."

Sakura yawned, and she rested her head on Rapheal’s left shoulder, slowly falling asleep, holding onto the orange mask that was around her neck. Rapheal sighed, and he glared at the two pairs of eyes that had just opened. "It’s about time ya two woke up."

Donatello sighed, while Leonardo looked at Rapheal. "Raph…"

"Can it Fearless, and just believe in Mikey, fer once."

"I do, but you saw, and experienced it yourself Rapheal, there’s no way…"

"Statistically, it should be impossible." Donatello butted in. "But, we have beaten the odds before, many times, what’s stopping this from being another one of those times?"

Leonardo didn’t say anything.

"Ya know what I think Don? I think that he’s scared of bein'..."

"Wrong?" Leonardo asked. "Do you think that I am scared of being wrong Rapheal? Let me propose a scenario to you Rapheal… Let’s say that Mikey survived, how do you explain why we haven’t heard from him?"

Rapheal didn’t say anything.

"Leo…" Donatello murmured. 

“Well… I’m waiting for an answer Rapheal." One of Leonardo’s eyebrows was raised, and he had a frown on his face, with his arms crossed over this carapace. "Or do you not have one… what is it?"

"I don’t have one."

"Exactly, so what’s the point of thinking that he’s alive, when we have no proof? I refuse to believe in false hopes."

"Leo… I have something to say." Donatello spoke up. "I… I think that it’s time that I shared it. I have been studying what I could of the machine that took Mikey from us. It didn’t just find other versions of us, it allowed the Shredder to travel to the other versions of us… What if… What if Mikey accidentally traveled to another universe that had us in it?"

His older brothers stared at him.

"Don… What do you mean by that?" Leonardo asked him.

"When Karai saved us, it messed with the machine, and it pulled us back together, but messing with something like that, resulted in us not coming back in one piece, remember?"

Leonardo placed his hand where the missing section of his shell was. "It was reopened…"

"Exactly… It reset it… It glitched…"

Rapheal’s eyes widened. "If it glitched fer Leo…"

"It glitched for Mikey." Donatello smiled. "And if it did, it explains what happened to him, we just need to follow the trail of glitches…"

"If we can follow the glitches, we can find the idiot." Rapheal smiled. "How’s that fer 'false hopes' Fearless?"

"And how are we going to do that?" The blue masked leader asked.

Donatello smiled. "We just need to find something that we can use to track Mikey, and thankfully, we already have something that fits the bill for that."

"His mask…" Rapheal smiled. "We have his mask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Surprise @easterartist , I hope that you enjoy your surprise gift. It was a lot of fun to write it, and I might return to it in the future.

Also, this was my first time actually writing 2003 Leonardo, Donatello and Rapheal, so I hope that I got them right.

Sakura belongs to me. I do not own the Teenage Mutant Turtles. They belong to their creators. @easterartist owns the Glitched out AU. I also do not own the song, it is 'Gales of Song' from Belle, which I do not own as well. Belle belongs to it's creators.)

[lovelyrocker]

Manic

RPF

Warnings: Manic Episode, Bipolar DIsorder, Medication, Language, Denying Medication, Not Taking Care of Yourself

Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader

Pairing: Timothee x Reader

Word Count: 2437

Timothee walked through the New York streets on his way to your apartment. He hadn’t seen you in a few days and you hadn’t really texted him or returned any texts for that matter. That wasn’t normal for you. Since the day you’d met a few years ago you and he talked everyday. Even if it was a simple one sentence text throughout the whole day telling the other hello or that the other was okay. 

It was even more weird because ever since you two had confessed that you had feelings for one another you talked even more. Were you dating, technically no. Have you kissed? Yes. Have you talked about dating? All the time. But you two wanted to take this slow, so you did things in your own way. 

But lately you strayed from your ways. . . a lot.

You stopped staying over and didn’t talk to him like before. Normally he’d hear from you on and off throughout the day. Now it was a day or two in between replies. It made him wonder, had he’d done something to upset you? Did he piss you off? It had to be something. So he was dropping by to check on you and see what was going on.

He buzzed your apartment, but you didn’t respond. He knocked on your apartment door and never got an answer. He knew you were home because he could hear movement here and there. He pushed the door open and called your name. You didn’t answer. He looked around the kitchen as he walked in and saw stuff all over the counters.

“Y/N?” He called again and again and received no answer. 

“Damn it!” He heard your shout from down the hall.

As he walked through the apartment he noticed each area was either cleaned and organized to perfection or a complete mess. He followed the curses that you were spitting out till he saw you digging through your closet, a pile of stuff on the floor at your feet to the closet door. 

“Y/N?”

You turned and looked at him. “What the hell are you doing here?” You jumped down from the small ladder you stood on. “How the hell did you get in?”

“Your door was unlocked.” Timothee told you, hitching his thumb to the front door. He paused, looking over your appearance. Your clothes were saturated with what looked like dirt, oil and ink. They were wrinkled and disheveled. You had darkening circles beneath your eyes, your hair in a messy bun on top of your head. It was clear you hadn’t showered in a day or two nor had you slept or eaten.  

“Yes it was! I always lock my door!”

“Sweetheart, How did I get in if it was locked?”

“Unless you broke in!” You pointed a finger in his face. “Did you break in?!”

“No, no, I didn’t-” He placed his hands on your arms. “Sweetie, when was the last time you slept?”

“A day or two.” You told him with a shrug, walking past him. “I’n not tired. Hey! Do you remember that book series I told you I had but couldn't find?! I found it! I was thinking we should take a road trip! You already hear about road trips! How awesome they are! We should try it! Maybe go cross country! Just pack up and drive to, like, California or something! Oh! L.A.!” You keep going, not giving him the chance to respond as you walk away. “Oh, and did you know that-” He grabbed your hands.

“Sweetie, babe,  listen,  I need you to take a breath.” He felt your hands shaking in his. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“Not hungry. Besides, every time I eat I get sick.” You told him, pulling your hands from his, walking into the living room. 

“Y/N, when was the last time you took your meds?”

You paused and turned to him quickly. “What?” She gave a gentle head tilt. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you are being a little erratic.”

“Oh, I’m being erratic?!” You snapped and he ran a hand over his face. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that.” He tried to correct himself. “I just mean-”

“I haven’t missed any meds!” She snapped at Timothee irritably. “I am just in a good mood and getting shit done! Why do you have to come in here and bring my mood down?”

“I’m not, I- I’m not trying to, sweetheart.”

“No, you are being a negative Nancy!” She points a finger in his face again.

“I’m not, Y/N. Really, I’m not trying to be.”

“Well, you are! Why did you even come over?!”

“Because you weren't replying and-”

“So! I don’t have to reply to you, Timothee!”

“I know. But since we-”

“Since we what?! We aren’t dating! Not really! So therefor I don’t have to reply to every single text you send.”

“Okay, Y/N, sweetie,”

“Stop!” You snap. “Stop calling me sweetie and stop being all patronizing!”

“I’m not trying to be.” He took a step towards you but you stepped away. “Listen, I was just worried because I hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”

“So.” You cross your arms over your chest with an adamant stance. 

“Can, can I make you something to eat?”

“I. Am. Not. Hungry.” She got into his face and spoke. “I told you that. Why won’t you listen?”

“Right, you did.” He nodded. “Tell you what, How about you go take a nice hot shower and I can find us something to watch on Netflix?”

“No, no time! I have a million things to do!”

“Hey,” He puts his hands on your waist as you try to walk away. “It can wait.”

“What are you doing?!” You push him away gently. “Stop!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry.”

“Look, Tim, just go back home.” You tell him, turning away. “I have stuff to do and you are just-” You shake her head. “Getting in the way.”

“Okay, tell me what you are doing. I can help you.”

“No, I got it.” You tell him, sitting on the couch, grabbing a handful of papers from the coffee table. “I don’t need your help.” 

“I know you don’t.” He sits next to you on the couch. “I want to help.” 

You look over at him. “Why?”

“Because I care about you. And you shouldn't be doing this on your own. It’s a lot.” He reaches, taking a pile of papers. “You helped me when I organized my apartment, so, I’ll help you.”

“Why do you care about me?”

“I just do.” He says as he starts to separate the papers, placing them in different piles on the coffee table. “Is this right?” He looks over to you.

“Oh.” You said looking back at your own task. “Yeah, that’s right.” You place a few papers down. “Put these there, though.” You point to another pile.

“Right here?” He asks before putting the papers down and you nod. “I’m gonna grab some water, want one?” He says standing and you shake your head. 

Once in the kitchen, Timothee opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He looked back seeing you still sitting on the couch, concentrating on your task. He quickly opened the cupboard he knew you kept your meds in and grabbed your medicine bottle. He looked at the fill date and then counted how many pills you had left. You really didn’t miss any. He put the bottle back and walked back into the living room. You were sitting on the couch looking over the papers, a yawn leaving you. 

“You look exhausted.” He tells you. “Have you tried your sleeping meds? Or your anxiety meds?”

“Don’t need them.” You tell him, not looking up.

“I didn’t say you did.” He sat back next to you. “But you could take some to relax and we can lay together for a while. It would be nice. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Maybe.”

“We have rain for the day, so I was thinking maybe I can order some take out and we could spend some time just being around each other.” He offered again. “We haven’t been able to hang out in a few weeks.”

You look over to him, suddenly feeling drained. “Sure.” You nod with another yawn. 

“I have an idea.” He carefully takes the papers from your hands. “Go jump in the shower and get into the clothes I left here. I know you are most comfy in my clothes.” He gave a smile. “I will call that pizza place you like around the corner.” You nod as he hugs you, another yawn leaving you. “You’re still shaky.”

“I’m okay.” You tell him before standing and walking away from him.

You shower, shave and scrub your hair clean, feeling much better from that alone. After pulling on Timothee’s basketball shorts and one of his t-shirts. When you walk out of the bathroom the living room is cleaned up and your favorite TV show, Gilmore Girls, is loaded and waiting.

“Feel better?” He asks you from the couch.

“Some.” You answer hearing a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” He jumps up. He walked back in with a pizza in hand. “Got your favorite and-" He places the box on the coffee table. “Can you please take these?” He pulls a bottle from his pocket. “I know you don't want to but you are still shaky, your eyes are unfocused and you are exhausted and on edge.” You look him in the eyes as he asks so simply. “For me.” You hold out your hand and he places a little white pill in your palm. “Thank you, sweetheart.” You throw back the pill and take a sip of water. He hands you a slice of pizza and presses play.

You don’t even make it to the second episode before you are asleep in Timothee’s arms. He doesn’t move either. He stays on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, holding you against him while you sleep. Your arms are wrapped around his middle, head on his chest, legs curled up next to him, his arm around your body. 

You slept for four hours unmoving. 

When you finally stirred the first thing you noticed was the warm body against you. “Tim?” You grumbled. “Fuck.” You whispered, bringing your hand to your chest feeli g the familiar pull of panic.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” He put his hands on your arms, rubbing gently. “Nothing is wrong, nothing is happening.” He soothed. “You just slept for a while.” He pulled you into him. “Just take deep breaths, it’ll pass.” You nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”  He kissed the top of your head. “I promise.”

“Can you stay?”

“As long as you want.” He answered without hesitation. 

It had been almost two days and Timothee was still at your apartment. He made sure you took your medication and ate, showered and slept. 

Your mind was still bouncing a little as you woke up from another nap. There was a note on the coffee table telling you that Timothee ran out to grab a few things from his place. 

You sat flipping through your phone but couldn’t concentrate, focusing still hard for you. You popped the hair tie around your wrist to ease the anxiety as you came down from your episode.

“Hey!’ Timothee’s voice rang and he walked into your apartment, dropping the bag he had over his shoulder down onto the floor. “How was your nap?”

“I slept hard.” You told him pulling your hair into a messy bun as he plopped down next to you.

He looked at your wrists and saw the bruising from the constant popping of the bands around your wrist. He slipped his hand into your, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“Did you hurt yourself at all?” His voice was calm and gentle.

“No.” You answered as he pulled you into him. “But I wanted to.”

“Anything I can do to help you?” You shake your head, burying your face in his chest. “You sure?” He holds you a little tighter.

“I’m sure.” He hears your voice break slightly.

“Baby, what is it?” He tilts your face up to look at him and he sees tears fall down your face. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing. I’m okay.” You sit up and turn away from Timothee, but he sees you wiping your eyes again.

“Y/N,” He places his hand on your shoulder. “Please talk to me.” He turns you and seeing the tears still flowing. “What is it?”

“Why are you still here?”

“What?” Timothee was dumbfounded. “What do you mean? I don’t understand. Here in your apartment?”

“Here, with me. Why are you still here? It’s been days. I know you have better things to do than hang around a crazy person waiting for her psycho episode to wind down.”

“I- I-”

“I know we’ve been talking and hanging out but you don't have any obligation towards me.”

“I want to be here.”

“Why?”

“I- I love you, Y/N.” You looked at him and stood, the tears coming more strongly. Timothee stood following. “Y/N-”

“How can you love me, Timothee? I’m broken.”

“Yeah, because I’m not fucked up in someway.”

“What?” You breathe out in confusion. “You make no sense.”

“We’ve talked a lot, right?”

“Yeah.” You answer.

“After I told you about me being a man whore I thought you wouldn’t be interested anymore. I mean, who would want to be with someone who has slept with more people than a fucking fraternity house? But you still wanted to know me.” Timothee reaches, placing his index finger beneath your chin,tilting your head up. “For months I fell more and more in love with every single part of you. Manic episodes included.” He wiped your tears with the backs of his fingers. “You can say the slut fell for the psycho.” You both chuckled. “I just want to know if-”

“I did.” You answer quickly and he smiles bright. "Of course I fell for you, Timmy."

“I’m not going anywhere.” Timothee kissed you gently.

He stayed at your place till he knew you were back to your normal state of mine. It wasn’t the last manic episode you’d have. You had many depressive lows as well, and Timothee was there for those too. As well as all that fell in between.