#like i can see them playing and him getting caught on the crossfire

[searihart]

Imma make doodles for everyone because I can. Also Fuuta mains the Blaster in Splatoon

[bella-goths-wife]

I imagine Vees pet would see how Val treats Angel and try to help him when she can, like calming Val down from his tantrums or playing something to help Angel himself if he is going through a panic attack.

Vs pet trying to help angel

Warnings: Valentino, SA mentions, panic attacks, abusive relationships

You’ve seen how Val treats his workers, and while you hate seeing it you know there is nothing you can do to stop it

You know your place as the assistant, you may receive nicer treatment from the Vs than any other demon but that doesn’t change who’s in charge

But there’s something about the way that angel is treated that really makes your stomach turn

The obsession that Val carries for angel, and the excessive cruelty towards him makes you feel physically ill

You do your best to distract Val from angel, but you have to be subtle or else your entire plan fails

You’ll respond to vals affection despite your uncomfortably feelings when he touches you, you know he doesn’t want to touch you in a sexual way but he’s not been platonically affection with anyone in so long that he’s forgotten how to touch someone without a sexual undertone

You’ll use your calming tricks on Val whenever you see him becoming irritated with angel dust, but sometimes even that doesn’t work

Sometimes there is no stopping Valentino’s rage from coming out, no matter how happy your affection makes him or how calm your ability is

So he will eventually blow up if the circumstances are too bad to fix, and angel will be caught in the crossfires

After Valentino is finished with his abuse, he usually leaves to get a drink and expects you to join him

But sometimes you don’t, you’ll look down as the bruised and battered angel dust and you can’t find yourself cruel enough to ignore him

You’ll treat his wounds and you’ll use you ability to create the same humming and heartbeat sound you use on Val to calm him on angel

You think that angel is too out of it or too panicked to remember who is doing this for him, but he remembers

You figured it out after you had a particularly stressful day with the Vs controlling behaviour and you hid out in a dressing room

You crumpled to the floor and cried your heart out as panic and anxiety filled your chest

You gripped your own hair painfully as your rocked back and forth to try and soothe yourself, but all you could focus on was how much you despised what you did

You despised vox’s commands of cruelty to others, you despised velvette’s infantilising and insulting words she spat in your direction because you weren’t being a ‘good pet’ and you despised that you could still feel vals touch on you and all you wanted to do was scrub your skin clean

As you cried and hurt yourself by yanking on your hair, you felt yourself being pulled into someone’s chest fluff and four arms wrapping around you

Angel shushed you as you cried and he rocked you back and forth in an attempt to soothe you the same way you had soothed him

You cried for hours into his chest as he shushed you and rubbed your back in a sympathetic manner

When you finally looked up at him, he mustered up a small smile as he wiped the tears from your eyes

“You remind me of my sister” he said quietly as he laid your head back onto his chest “too kind in a world that’s got cruelty in every corner, too naive for your own good”

After that night, there was a mutual understanding between you and angel dust

He looked out for you, and you looked out for him

But subtly of course

You don’t even want to imagine what the Vs would do if they found out you had formed a friendship outside of them

But you knew that them knowing would only endanger angel dust and gain you a punishment

Let me know what you think :)

[nymphomatique]

Thinking of overstimulating nerd!miguel to the point of tears and squirting (people w penises squirt too if the tip is stimulated enough!)

read this ask and immediately took it too far i’m depraved,,, miguel gets pegged and squirts 😔

cw: gn!reader, you can either have on a strap or have a real pp 🕺🏽, pegging, d/s dynamics, spit, anal fingering, unprotected anal sex (use protection!!!), prone bone, bad ending i didn’t know how to finish this off LMFAO, erm idk at this point 😔 not proofread you guys know the deal. enjoy!

you were sitting on the couch in your dorm (what your mothers money could buy, you were some days grateful for), back against the arm, scrolling aimlessly on your laptop. next to you say miguel, your feet in his lap as he massaged them gently. he was engrossed in whatever science fiction movie was playing on your flatscreen tv. ex-machina you want to say? the two of you sat like this for a while, but knowing miguel, you’re not surprised when you feel something stiff brush against your feet in his lap.

your eyes flit over your laptop to miguel’s face. even with only partial view of his face, you can see the light tint of red upon his cheeks, and you can’t help but smile a bit. “hey,” you call out, lowering your laptop screen and placing it on the floor to fully look at his side profile. he responds with an inquisitive hum, still focused on the movie.

“i can feel your dick stabbing my feet, you freak,” you laugh out, crossing your arms under your chest. miguel turns to look at you and starts sputtering an apology, but you’re swinging your feet off of his lap to stand, placing yourself within his lap. your hand comes up to his face, your four fingers and thumb on either side squishing his cheeks mid sentence.

“who said i didn’t like it?” you say, looking at him in his deep eyes. you can’t help but be honest when caught in the crossfire of his gaze. you let go of his cheeks, your arms wrapping around his neck and your face burried within the book between his face and your arm. your lips are right next his ear, and with a smile you lick up the shell of it, earning a soft “f-fuck” and a buck of miguel’s hips up into yours. you let out a giggle and move your head to face him again, arms still around his strong neck. his hands move from their grip on their couch to your hips. much better, you think.

for a moment, you look at him, and he looks at you. miguel, miguel, miguel. he’s all encompassing. no matter how much control you feel you yield over him, you find yourself weak to him. submissive in your own right to him, and it tears you apart inside. you blink back your thoughts, and succumb to the pull you feel towards him in the moment. i really want to kiss you, you think. and you do, you kiss him soft, lips touching ever so lightly you feel as if you’ll pass out if you take anymore from him, if he gives anymore to you. and the kiss is soft for a while, your hands coming to cusp his face in your embrace. his hands rub soft circles within your hips. you pull apart, and you feel overwhelmed at the sight of him. abashed and turned on, the two of you are. looking at him in this moment is like looking in a mirror, you feel to intense want wafting off him.

“wanna try somethin’ with you,” you state, still sat atop him, letting yourself fall into the brown pools of color in his eyes. “yeah?” he nods, and his fingers rub up and down your sides slowly, an act you’re sure is one he’s doing absent mindedly but you can’t help but feel the heat trickle into your abdomen at the sensation.

“wanna fuck your ass,” you say, watching his face. a look of surprise takes over, and you see him silently contemplating what to answer you with. you look at him, silently trying to say it’s okay to say no, without wanting to crawl out of your skin if embarrassed for feeling so scared to ask the question in the first place. after a moments silence, he answers. “okay.” steady, sure.

you feel like the pressure crushing your chest has lifted, the tension dissolving into an impatient arousal. you kiss him once more, chaste, and get off of his lap to strip, and you command him the same. once both naked, you grab his hand and walk to your bed, ditching the uncomfortable couch you were laying on. “lay down f’me,” you say, pushing miguel down to the bed by his chest. and ever so obediently, he does as you say. and you can’t help but feel proud, smug even. he does what only you say, nobody else.

you look upon his naked body, taking a moment to admire him brazen muscle and braun, his trail of black hair starting at his lower abdomen, trailing to the base of his thick cock. you feel a tightness squeeze within you looking at his dick, mouthwateringly beautiful and thick. you crawl onto the bed stomach down, and position your head between his thighs. “knees up,” you tell him, kissing his inner thigh. he does as you tell him, a small sigh leaving him. “so pretty down here, aren’t you?” you say, grabbing his dick with your left hand. wordlessly, you take it slow, licking small stripes along the shaft of him, thumb rubbing circles around his tip tenderly. you lick, and lick, and rub until you feel yourself getting impatient to taste him, the precinct swirling and spreading under your thumb making you salivate, you remove your hands from him opting to cup his balls as you take him in your mouth slowly at first. you sink down until your throat encases all of miguel within you. miguel hisses at the feeling and his hips jerk up, and you moan around him. you pull your head back, and forward until you’re in a steady rhythm of milking him with your throat.

“f-feels good. g’nna cum- fuck!” miguel hisses. you remove him from you throat and veer towards his balls, heavy and waiting right below his thick cock. you don’t hesitate to put the sack into your mouth, suckling softly as your hand jerks him up and down in quick pace. under your ministrations, miguel slowly unravels at the seams, your stimulation making him burn up inside. your unoccupied left hand trails up miguel’s leg, from his knees and up his thigh. from there, you move your hand down to miguel’s ass, using a finger to scoop up the trail of spit leaking down between your mouth and his taint, coating your finger in it. after lubricating your finger, you slowly move to circle the ring of muscle, throbbing under your touch. you rub around the tight hole, hearing miguel’s moans at your teasing.

you take your mouth off of his balls, licking a stripe up from his sack to the tip of his leaking dick. “tell me you want my finger in that tight little ass of yours,” you say, lust oozing from your voice.

“please! need your fingers inside me,” he breathes out, clearly frustrated at your sudden halt in pleasuring him.

“i know you do, baby, can’t wait to destroy your ass,” you whisper, kissing your way down miguel’s shaft to his balls once more. your lips engulf the skin, warming and massage it within your mouth. your jerking continues as well, and you finally push your finger slowly into miguel’s ass.

“f-fuck, thank you, feels so good. ah!”

you pump your finger slowly in an out slowly, eventually working into an even rhythm. “just one finger and you’re fallin’ apart f’me?” you tease, stoping your stimuli on his balls. “gonna put another finger up there, bet you want that huh?” you ask, jerking him up and down quickly as your fingers caress his anal walls.

“yes! please oh my god i’ll do anythi-“

you insert another finger, curling them upwards while you pull and push in and out. miguel is uncontrollable underneath you, squirming and twitching haphazardly on the bed. you spit on his ass, adding a third finger within him. his hips buck up, and you can’t help but giggle at his inability to control himself. “i know you feel good, cum for me baby.” and he does, spurting his cum all over your slowing hand, your jerking coming to a halt along with your prodding fingers. you remove your hands from miguel, crawling up the bed to reach his face. he looks sated and blissed, eyes closed and chest heaving.

you bring your hand up to carcass the side of his face, and his eyes flutter open. “taste yourself,” you say, moving your cum coated fingers into miguel’s mouth, a mouth that sucks you clean with no hesitation. his tongue swirls around your fingers, warming and wetting them simultaneously.

“fuck miguel, should see how you look suckin’ on me like that,” you sigh out. you pull your fingers from his mouth slowly, watching his lips let your ligaments go. “not done with you yet baby, turn around f’me,” you say to him, tapping his cheeks softly. lackadaisically, he turns onto his stomach, ass up.

you prep yourself behind him and move to grab the lube in the nightstand next to you. you open the bottle and slick yourself up, pouring some between miguel’s cheeks as well. the coldness causes him to jump and you laugh, “ready?” you ask.

“yes, p-please.”

you place your legs on the outside of either of miguel’s and lean your pelvis forward, pushing your dick through his tight sphincter. immediately you’re met with resistance, miguel silent but still tensing at the intrusion. “gotta loosen up for me, yeah? wanna get fucked like a good little boy dontcha? need to fit myself inside you,” you say, massaging miguel’s ass with both hands.

you hear miguel whimpering and let out a soft okay, and you continue to push, slowly. “fuckin’ squeezing my dick down there, miguel. you want it that bad?” you tease him. he lets out a moan in protest, but you shush him. “s’okay. you know it’s my job to fuck you like you need, hmm? todays no different.”

you push until you’ve reached the hilt, pelvis against miguel’s ass, chest against his back. “tell me when you’re ready, okay?” you whisper in his ear. and after a minute, he breaks the silence with a ready, and you slowly pull yourself out, and pushing back in, falling into a soft rhythm. here and there, you hear a quiet moan from miguel, until he gets restless and tells you to go faster.

and faster you go, lifting your hips up and slamming them back down, the contact of your pelvis against miguel’s ass reverberating loudly through your dorm.

“f-feels so good. fuck my ass harder, p-please!” miguel groans. who are you to deny him? with you arms as leverage and your knees on the bed, you use all the momentum you have to fuck him senselessly as he asked you too. and you fucking him hard, your thrusts causing a cry of pleasure or a string of curses everytime you come down onto him. you’re so good, miguel starts crying.

“p-please let me cum- feels so good ohmygod, fuck! s-so big, i feel so good. thank you thank you thank you,” miguel babbles, and you kiss the back of his neck, fucking him deep and hard. “cum for me, show me how good i make you feel,” you grown out, feeling your finish peaking over the horizon.

you lift yourself up and grab miguel’s hips to bring them up, fucking him in doggy so you can jerk him off. his dick is incredibly hard when you reach around to touch it, his tip red and weeping. you thumb his tip and he starts shaking as he fucks himself back onto you.

“g-gonna pee, s-stop,” miguel breathes out. “nuh-uh, let it all out right here baby,” you say, hips still fucking into him brutally. log my god he groans, head falling into the sheets.

you jerk him as you fuck him, relentless in your stimulating. and finally, with a weak moan, miguel groans and shudders while he squirts clear liquid all over your sheets. you grown at the mess he made, fucking up into him for a few more thrusts until you finish. when you finally pull out of miguel, he lets out a whine and you laugh, laying down against him.

“i can’t believe you actually squirted,” you laugh. and he covers his face with your silk cased pillow, embarrassed. you can’t help but laugh and kiss his forehead.

“alright, get up water hose, gotta clean you and my bed.”

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Sorry for breaking your window to get in here but since where already on the topic of B & E what about Clarisse x Daughter of Hermes where the Hermes Cabin and the boys from the Ares cabin started a prank war with each other and Clarisse is PISSED because she gets getting caught in the crossfire and when reader breaks into the Ares cabin to set up a prank but she accidentally wakes up Clarisse.

- it’s all fun and games -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Hermes! Reader

An - i feel like I don’t use AN’s properly but who cares also my ao3 series is almost finished also I cuss way to fucking much I mean damn 😭😭 irl I say fuck every 3 words dude I have a problem

An Pt 2 - I Hope thus is good I’m going through a rough writers block rn

For the entire summer. The entire fucking summer clarisse has been dealing with everyone’s bullshit.

Her brothers had for some reason started a season long war with the Hermes cabin. Probably because over some girl which she honestly found pathetic, even though deep down she would do worse if someone tried shit with you.

So here, clarisse currently found herself looking in shock with her cabin floor covered in Greek fire ash marks. Annoyed she mentally came up with a punishment for later. Deep in thought she hadn’t realized you were behind her for cabin check up.

You let out a soft breath before gently hitting the open door. Clarisse turned around, her face going from anger to flustered.

“Hey” she stumbled slightly on her words.

You shyly waved. “Cabin check?” There was a moment of silence, just enough for you to notice the mess behind her. “I can always lie— I know how my brothers get” you tried to offer a better solution than failing the check.

Acting like she was Un-phased she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. Shouldn’t have to cover for them ”

“Well I’m just trying to help” You chuckled, the gap between you closing quickly.

As much as clasisse complained about the summer there was still one good part, you. Flirting at every bonfire turned into spending free time together which eventually lead to you both kissing at the end of last night. “I guess I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yeah” she shrugged. It was cute how she tried to play off her embarrassment. Reaching out you fixed clarisses necklace, Making it symmetrical on her body. With a sarcastic sigh you looked back at the Greek fire stains before looking back up at her. “I’ll come back in an hour that work for you?”

“Yeah id really appreciate it” she smiled softly.

You wished you were an Aphrodite girl, able to leave a room with beauty and want. Instead you left almost to quickly, embarrassment fueling your steps. By the time you reached the last step your face felt hot, and your body felt fuzzy. She was going to be the death of you.

———

“I’m not doing that” you cocked an eyebrow up as your brothers proposed another prank.

“Just this once” Connor practically begged. Walking past Chris smacked him upside his head, the prank they were trying to get you to do? Sneak into the ares cabin and cover it in silly string. Their reasoning for having you do it was because clarisse wouldn’t kill you.

“If she doesn’t want to do it she doesn’t have to” Chris sighed, taking a seat on his bunk.

Your brothers however couldn’t handle that as an appropriate response. Whispering to each other you saw their faces turn into a devilish grin. “Fine” they started off with false security “You don’t have to do it, but we can always tell Chiron about the secret green plant business you help the Dionysius and Demeter cabin run”

Giving them an agitated look you stood up and snatched the silly string out of their hand. “Fuck you” they always found a reason to black mail you. The trick was starting to get old.

It wasn’t until 12am that you snuck into the ares cabin. Coming in through the window you were a little worried about what a cabin full of war kids would do if someone came in. Looking back one more time to see your brothers giving you a thumbs up from afar.

Calming your nerves you took the first step inside. Silently spraying the string the stale chemical smell hit you like a truck. A few kids tossed and turned, the fear of waking one up made you work faster.

Shoving another empty can into your bag you pulled out the last one. The only section left was clarisses. The section you had been dreading of doing. Silently walking over you caught a glimpse of her drooling in her sleep. You wished your had a camera to capture the rare moment. She was beautiful, even in her most vulnerable state. Snapping out of your thoughts you remembered you had a job to do.

Stepping back with a heavy heart your foot sunk into a loose board, a loud creaking sound filling the room. It was less than a second before you felt a harsh hit to your face and your body on the floor.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings with ringing in your ears. The lights came on and a pair of strong hands grabbed the side of your arms. A few kids were shouting and in the background you could almost make out the front door opening.

Coming back you felt blood trail down your face from your nose and clarisse looking guilty at you. Her hands squeezing your arms as she couldn’t say anything. You groaned and held your head back exhausted.

Being moved to a bed you were barley able to understand what was happening in-front of you. In the background both cabins were yelling at one another, it felt like a fight might break out. Clarisse was crouched infront of you trying to asses your now broken nose. You could tell she was starting to loose her patience.

At first you didn’t hear anything. The ringing went away however when clarisse slammed her spear on the ground commanding the attention to her.

“ENOUGH! Everybody who is not my sibling get out now! And to everyone else I want a first aid kit some ice, nectar, ambrosia, and i want this cabin cleaned now!” A strong silence filled the room before the ares kids got to work. If looks could kill the Hermes cabin would had dropped dead. “Whatever you all have going on ends now understand! Im sick and tired of dealing with all of your bullshit and Luke you need to get a better control over your siblings!”

They nodded. Not even Luke wanted to speak, he just whistled his sibling’s out. In less than five minutes you watched as the cabin almost cleaned itself. In less than five minutes clarisse had began gently trying to bandage the broken bone, trying to take some pain away.

Helping feed a bite of ambrosia you felt your nose begin to mend on its own. Though it would still need a week to heal. Letting out a sigh of relief you finally looked up at her, up at Clarisse who was acting like a coward.

“It’s not your fault” you tried.

“I broke your nose, seems like my fault”

“And you thought I was an intruder it’s not the end of the world” you sighed grabbing her hand. It didn’t matter who was at fault it just came down to how it was handled.

She looked like she wanted to speak but she just couldn’t make the words. “If you really want to make it up to me you can always ask me out on a date” Looking up through your lashes you swore you saw her cheeks turn red.

“Y-yeah I can do that” trying to play it off but it was too late. You giggled slightly, leaning forward to close the gap and softly kiss her. Feel her rough lips against yours.

Her hands found home on your torso, traveling up and down while pulling you closer in an attempt to deepen it. Breaking away only for a moment clarisse looked over at her siblings who some stopped cleaning.

Barking orders at them to continue she looked back with a sarcastic expression making you laugh.

Laying down beside her on the small bed you looked deep into her eyes, not wanting to say a word. It felt like every emotion you two had felt for one another was known.

Giving her another soft kiss you tucked your head away into her neck. It didn’t take long to fall asleep and shockingly for the ares cabin, when the lights were out and everyone was asleep there was a peaceful quiet. One that comforted and lulled a person into a deep sleep.

[haddonfieldwhore]

i miss you, i’m sorry - matthew tkachuk

matthew tkachuk x fem!reader

summary: you go with your bf to a hockey game; he is unaware of your history with one of the players (please read warnings!)

warnings: abusive bf, violence, strong and derogatory language, angst, a few uses of y/n

word count: 3k

you felt like you hadn’t been able to breathe properly in hours, sitting rigid like a stone next to mike, who’s mood has only deteriorated as the night went on. mike was a diehard coyotes fan, and had brought you to the game with him last minute when his friend had cancelled last minute.

“are you sure none of your other friends would want to go? they would probably have more fun than i would,” you had offered, desperately trying to get out of going.

“they’re all busy,” he replied. “i know you hate hockey, but can you try to have a good time, for me?” he asked sweetly, pulling you into his arms. you weren’t fooled by his tone; you would go and you would enjoy it, you didn’t have a choice.

“okay,” you smiled, and he kissed you softly before going to your shared room to get ready. you sighed, trying to figure out how you were going to make it through this game. you didn’t hate hockey - you used to love it actually, but when you started dating mike you chose to keep that part of your life a secret. it seemed silly at face value, but there was a bigger secret you were hiding from him, and you asked the universe why it had to be the panthers that arizona was playing tonight.

a little less than two years ago, you had dated their star player, matthew tkachuk for almost a year, before the travel and hectic schedule got to be too much for you, and you decided to leave; the hardest thing you had ever done. the relationship had been kept pretty quiet thankfully, no traces of it online except for one or two group photos from when you were together still floating around instagram; though you had done all you could to erase any evidence.

if mike found out, you honestly weren’t sure how he would react; but you knew it wouldn’t be good. you had met mike a few months after you and matthew broke up, and he was nice enough, until he wasn’t. he kept up the good guy just long enough for you to move in and become dependant on him, and suddenly you found yourself trapped. things were okay most of the time, but if he got angry, sometimes you got caught in the crossfire. he had only actually hit you once, but he yelled, and would sometimes grab you too hard, leaving you with bruises to cover before he could see them; he had the audacity to say that they made him upset.

he had been in a good mood when you got to the arena, and you were thankful that your seats weren’t too close to the ice, though you shuddered at the possibility of matthew seeing you in the crowd, despite how slim the chance was. you hadn’t seen him since they day you broke up, and as the familiar head of curly hair came out from the tunnel, skating on to the ice as part of the starting line up, your heart felt like it was being twisted in a vice.

you missed him. you missed your friends on the team, having grown pretty close to some of the guys, as well as their girlfriends. you hadn’t heard from any of them since leaving; it was too hard at first, and then it became a safety concern. any connection to your former life meant more risk of mike finding out about matthew, and that couldn’t happen.

“can you at least look like you want to be here?” mike whispered in your ear, and you knew it wasn’t a suggestion. you put on a smile, and thankfully it was good enough, as he turned his attention back to the players on the ice.

the game started off a bit slow, however the panthers had a 1-0 lead at the end of the first, and through the second as well. the coyotes were playing pretty rough, getting quite a few penalties for some dirty hits, all while mike cheered them on, booing the refs anytime they called a penalty on arizona. you watched as one of floridas players, nick cousins, ran into one of the coyotes while he was low on the boards, the hit landing on his shoulders or maybe his head, you couldn’t really tell. another coyote skated up and checked nick face first into the boards; hard. he hadn’t been looking that way and had no warning to protect himself, and you watched in distress as he crumbled to the ice, and you were worried he was unconscious.

nick had been one of your closest friends while you were dating matt, and your heart pounded as you watched him struggle to his feet.

“that pussy folded like a piece of paper!” mike laughed, enjoying every second of him getting hit. floridas players jumped on the guy who had laid the hit on nick, defending their fallen teammate as a fight broke out, sending players from each team into the penalty box. mikes mood dropped with each second of the refs deliberating passed, the officials eventually awarding nearly 20 penalty minutes to forsling for florida, as well as enough penalty minutes to arizona to give the panthers a man advantage.

“that’s fucking bullshit!” he screamed, the crowd of arizona fans not happy about the decision either. you said nothing as mike spilled some of his fourth beer on your lap, just thankful it hadn’t got on his spare coyotes jersey that he had insisted you wear. as the players got ready to continue the game, you looked across the ice, locking eyes with the one person you hoped you could avoid more than anything. something flashed in his eyes as he saw you, but his attention was quickly back to the game as the whistle blew, and soon the second period was over and he was gone down the tunnel for intermission.

the coyotes scored in the third to tie the game, but the panthers got the lead back, scoring twice in close succession. matthew looked to you after putting the puck in the net, and it took everything in you to ignore him. mike was livid at this point, the alcohol not helping in the slightest, and you cringed internally as he grabbed your hand, holding it way too tight.

forsling finally came out of the penalty box after serving 17 minutes, and immediately scored an empty netter, solidifying a 4-1 victory for florida. with 2 minutes left in the game, mike dragged you out to the concession area. matthews eyes noticed your empty seats, and his heart dropped, wondering if he had imagined you even being there in the first place.

downstairs, mike pushed you against the brick wall next to the restroom.

“wait here. i gotta piss before we leave,” looking at the long lineup already formed outside the men’s room. the arena was small, and there were limited washrooms, so you had a feeling this was gonna take a while, but you dared not move from your spot against the wall.

you could hear the final buzzer go, and the florida players began walking out from ice level, and you realized that they had to walk through the main area to get to the visitors locker room, and your blood ran cold. most of the panthers paid no mind to you, but you held your breath as you saw matthew approaching, praying that he ignored you like the others had.

he thankfully didn’t say anything, but your eyes locked for the second time that night as he passed by, disappearing down the hall and into the locker room. your foot tapped anxiously on the floor, grinding a small piece of gravel under your shoe as you willed mike to hurry the fuck up.

10 minutes went by, and you exhaled in relief as he finally appeared, not even caring about the death grip he took on your wrist as he literally dragged you behind him towards the exit.

“y/n?” a familiar voice called, and you hoped with all you had that mike would ignore it and keep walking. “wait- y/n.” mike stopped, causing you to bump into his back with how fast you were following behind him. he turned around, and you were sure he was quite confused as to why matthew tkachuk was calling after you.

“what the hell do you want?” mike asked, looking matt up and down before turning to you, still holding you tight. “do you know this asshole?”

“no, let’s go home,” you pleaded, but he wasn’t budging.

“you got the wrong girl.” mike shrugged. “shouldn’t you be circle jerking with the other guys in the locker room right now?” he spat, still bitter about his team losing the game.

“i told them to start without me,” matthew joked dryly, and you could feel his eyes on you, however yours were glued to the floor.

“funny,” mike replied. “let’s go,” he pushed you in front of him to leave.

“wait, y/n - please.”

“i’m sorry, you have the wrong person.”

“yeah, chucky,” mike laughed. “you must be thinking of some other whore. i’m sure there’s a lot of desperate chicks around here that would suck your cock though, so stop talking to mine.”

“you really shouldn’t talk about women like that,” matthew threatened, and while his tone sounded calm, you knew he was furious.

“or what? what, you want to fight or something?” mike asked. you noticed a few people gathering to watch, either out of concern or just to see matthew, but you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“baby, can we please just-“

“shut up!” he shoved you and you fell to the floor, landing hard on your ass, before punching matthew in the face. matthew swung a fist at mikes face, hitting him square in the jaw. your eyes widened in horror as mike swung more drunken punches back at matt, and people backed away from the fight. you looked down the hall to see a familiar face, and you called out to your former friend.

“carter!” his eyes snapped up from his phone and he took out an airpod before he noticed the fight, and he quickly pulled matthew off of mike with the help of security guards that had come to help break up the situation. you stared at the ground in front of you again, feeling like the room was spinning and wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you. security handcuffed mike and escorted him out of the building, while carter and another security officer took matthew back down the hall towards the locker room.

an officer asked you to come with him, and he took you to an empty office room to take a statement about what happened. you just hoped matthew wouldn’t get in too much trouble.

•

when you left the office, there were thankfully little to no fans left in the arena, the hallways eerily empty as you walked towards the door. before you could reach it though, something - or someone - made you pause. you looked back down the hall to the locker room, and with a sigh walked towards it. you knocked on the door, your heart hammering against your ribcage as it opened, one of the team staff looking at you.

“i’m sorry, you can’t be back here-“

“it’s fine. she’s a friend,” carter interrupted her, opening the door to let you in. the room was empty, the team having already left, and you forced yourself to look at carter.

“are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded.

“thank you. i’m sorry-“

“don’t, it’s not your fault.” he opened his arms and you fell into them, hugging him tightly. “chuckys just getting patched up in the medic room. mostly procedure that they have to check him after a fight - usually it only happens during a game though,” he joked, and you found yourself smiling for real for the first time that night.

“is he in a lot of trouble?”

“no more than he normally gets himself into. it’ll be fine, y/n,” he assured you, but you were still worried there might be some legal repercussions. deciding there was nothing you could do about that right now, you managed to push the thought away and sat down on a bench in the locker room.

“you waiting around for him?” verhaeghe asked, and you nodded, eyes on the floor again.

“yeah. i think i’d be a shitty person not to.”

“you could never be a shitty person,” he smiled. “we miss you. chucky especially.” you looked up at him sadly.

“i miss you guys too.”

the medic door opened with a creak, and matthew walked out. you kept your eyes on your feet, counting the laces on your shoes over and over again.

“i’ll see you later,” carter said goodbye to both of you before leaving the room. you didn’t dare look up as matthew walked over slowly and sat down next to you, leaving space between you as his gaze lingered on you.

“you waited,” he said softly.

“yeah…. i don’t think i should have, but i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“you wanted to make sure i was okay?” he laughed softly. “yeah, i’m okay.” he said, and an awkward silence filled the room. “was he always like that?” he asked gently, and you shook your head sadly.

“nope,” you said bitterly, eyes growing wet with tears. “he was perfect at first. until he wasn’t.”

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. it’s not your fault.”

“i still am. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” you didn’t reply, knowing he was right. “y/n, you haven’t even looked at me.” he hand touched yours on the bench next to you, his touch so soft and gentle it was unfamiliar.

you turned your head towards him, and his heart broke at your sad expression. his lip was split open, red and forming a bruise already. you reached for his face without thinking, pulling your hand back before you went too far.

“what do you want me to say?” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. with the carefulness of someone touching glass, he brushed it off your face, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

“do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” he asked, somewhat ignoring your question. he didn’t want you to say anything, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

“i can figure something out,” you said, going through the options in your head; likely a hotel or sleeping in your car.

“please, i would feel a lot better if i knew you were somewhere safe. i have an extra bed in my hotel room-“

“no, matthew. i can’t do this.”

“do what?” he asked.

“this,” you gestured between the two of you. “thank you for protecting me, but i can’t let myself be near you. it’s too hard.”

“please,” his blue eyes looking in yours. the smell of his cologne wafted to your nose, filling you with a sense of safety that only he could ever bring you.

“okay,” you nodded.

•

the drive to the hotel was short and silent, but you felt at ease for the first time all night. the more time you spent with him, the more it felt like no time had passed; like things were back to how they were before. matthew held your hand the whole drive, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of it gently, his touch like a feather.

you got up to the hotel room and he grabbed a t-shirt from his suitcase for you.

“you a coyotes fan now?” he teased, and you laughed. matthew hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound, but did he would do anything to hear it again and again.

“not by choice,” you laughed, pulling mikes jersey over your head, putting the t-shirt over your undershirt you had on.

“did he know about -“

“no,” you shook your head, dropping the jersey in the small garbage can, and matthew cracked a smile. “he probably wouldn’t have liked it very much.”

“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to -“

“it’s okay. i know. how’s your lip?” you asked, still feeling guilty about it.

“it’s not my first split lip. i’ll live,” he smiled.

“is nick okay?” you asked, remembering the nasty hit during the game.

“he wasn’t feeling too hot after that. i’m not sure yet,” he admitted, and you nodded, before covering your mouth as a yawn slipped past your lips. “come on, sleepyhead, let get you to bed.”

you nodded, dragging your exhausted body into the nearest of the two queen sized beds. matthew tucked you into bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, and you reached for his hand before he could walk away.

“lay with me?” you asked sleepily, knowing it was selfish to use him as a safety net right now; but you felt you would fall apart without him.

“are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded. he crawled into bed next to you, letting you cling to him like a life raft. “you’re safe now. i won’t let anyone hurt you, baby, i promise.”

“i know, matty,” you snuggled into him, everything about him bringing you comfort you hadn’t felt since you left; his scent, his voice, the feeling of his arms around you. “i missed you.”

“god, i missed you to. i don’t want to let you go again.”

“please don’t,” you begged, your eyes wet with tears that fell onto the fabric of his shirt, your fingers gripping it so tight your knuckles hurt. “don’t let me go.”

“i won’t.”

you felt like you were dreaming; what had started as a nightmare turning into the first time you had felt safe in months. you were scared that you would wake up and it hadn’t been real - you would be next to mike in his apartment, the cold draft from the window on your side of the bed would prickle you skin like it always did and you would have to apologize for not having his lunch ready for work.

but instead you would wake up in the arms of someone who actually cared about you, the sun peeking through the cracks of the blinds, casting warmth onto your skin. along with it, matthew brought a light to your life that had been missing for so long, you thought it was lost for good.

matthew pressed another soft kiss to your forehead as you felt yourself falling asleep, knowing you were protected as long as he was next to you.

“thank you matty,” you murmured, barely awake as you nose brushed the side of his jaw, your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“anything for you.”

disclaimer: all screenshots, events, and/or interactions depicted in this are a work of fiction. i have no association with any parties mentioned

[osteohack]

Hey! If it’s alright, may I request where reader is dating Art the clown and the pale girl she’s the reader as some sort of parent, or at least likes the reader a lot?

Art: Being a Parental Figure to the Pale Girl

In some scenes of the movies it’s shown that some people can see the Pale Girl and others cannot, so I think she might pick and choose who she visibly appears to. In your case, she wouldn’t show herself right away. It would definitely take her time to trust you enough to show herself to you. Before this happens, the only indication you had of her existing was the way Art acted whenever she was around. He’d probably gesture to her position and act overly exasperated if you weren’t reacting to her.

She would know not to harm you since Art lets you hang around and shows you affection. She’ll hang around for a while before deciding that she’s comfortable enough to show herself to you. She’ll play with you by scaring you and if you try and scare her back she’ll be more aggressive with her scare tactics. She won’t endeavour to harm you though, unless Art says otherwise, so you do have to be careful.

If you and the Pale Girl got along well, Art would be a little confused at first, but he’d quickly accept it. He wouldn’t think of you three as a family though, even if you asked him to.

You likely won’t ever be aware of the Pale Girl’s real identity since neither of them really talk. She might view you as a parental figure, but she definitely won’t listen if you try to scold her or teach her any normal values. It’s more accurate to say that she’d view you as a close friend.

If you do care for her in the same way that a parent would care for their child, you won’t have to worry about her getting hurt. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. When Art and herself go out with the intent to maim others, she might try and bring you along since it’s her idea of bonding, but Art is adverse to this. He doesn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. He also just thinks you aren’t really able to handle yourself in those sorts of situations.

[kissagii]

Your brothers are dumb, but Isagi is always your number one fan.

cw: gender neutral reader, 2.4k words, reader is rin & sae's musically gifted sibling, silly isagi, obscene amounts of pining, i don't know how music competitions work lol

@celestair it's here!!!! thank you so much for the fabulous prompt <3

“So, you’re on next, how do you feel?” Your friend Yuki asks, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. The performer before you is wrapping up his piece, and your turn on stage is approaching far too quickly.

“Were they there?” You whisper, completely ignoring her question. 

“Didn’t see ‘em,” Yuki sighs, “But hey, you can’t see anything from up on that stage, don’t give up just yet.”

Despite her attempts at encouragement, you both know the truth. They aren’t there. They never are. Even now, as you prepare to step onstage in the final round of a national piano competition, your two soccer-obsessed brothers are nowhere to be found. You should’ve expected that from the start when the most they could offer to your invitation was “ok.” 

How many soccer games have you attended by now? How many hours have you spent in the sweltering heat, watching your brothers run up and down a field kicking a ball around? And despite all that, they have yet to deem one of your music events as worth their time. You’re half sure the reason they neglected to arrive was because neither one would be caught dead sitting in the same room as the other. It’s always a competition with those two – a test to see who could be the better soccer player, the worse brother – and you’re simply caught in the crossfire as you pursue your own wholly different passions. 

But now, unfortunately, there’s only one thing to do: go out on stage, play your heart out, and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a scrap of recognition from one of the fools who shared your last name. 

“Break a leg. And don’t let your shitty brothers get to you,” Yuki says, nudging you out onto the stage as the previous performer exited past you.

When you walk onstage there is no announcement of your name, no applause. There never is. Just a silence so thick it could be cut with a knife as the audience watches with judging eyes, anticipating eyes, and… hopeful eyes? The stage feels different today, fresh and pleasantly cool, as if the crushing expectations are lifted ever so slightly.

Then you see him. It’s just a glance, an impression of an individual, a hint of green and black in your periphery. But when he sees you it’s earth-shattering. He can breathe again – but only one barely-muffled gasp, because you’re quick to steal the air from his lungs as his heart begins to inexplicably race. Isagi has been in the same audience seat many times by now – the same seat every time, for his favorite view – yet every time he sees you walk out onto that stage it’s like rebirth, a preparation for the waves of joy and sadness and admiration and, dare he say it, love, that would wash over him as you played. All he has to hope is that you know he’s there, watching like he always is. And for the first time, you know – you deeply, truly, know – someone is out there watching you.

For this competition, you chose Liszt’s Un Sospiro. After mastering the technique, you spent hours of practice imbuing the piece with a thousand emotions, a thousand ways to sigh, and yet none of them felt quite right. So in the ten seconds before your fingers hit the keys, you have a decision to make.

Yoichi.

Of course, how could you forget? 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you begin to play, the notes dancing with the image in your mind. Simply the thought of him makes your heart race in time with the arpeggios, your measured breaths falling out of time as you let the music wash over you. The emotion flows so naturally you’re not sure if you’re pushing them into the music or if the music is pulling them out of you, a different one for each phrase, the joy and fear and longing and hope and desperation. You could practically see them, figures of light in every color dancing together across the stage and out into the audience, seeking out their target. 

They more than find their target: they crash into him like unceasing waves. Each one slightly different than the last, yet all so familiar; a language without words, yet each phrase he understands clearly. 

Is it five minutes, one, or thirty? Time begins to blur, everything fading to soft pink and green and orange and blue, colors and sounds existing independently of earthly constraints. It’s transcendental, almost, the room immersed in a lovestruck state of reverie until the final notes echo through the auditorium.  

By the end of the piece his chest is aching, and yours is aching too. The exhilaration hardly makes sense – were you not full of worry only minutes ago? Or had it been an eternity since anything other than Yoichi was on your mind? Adrenaline pulsing through your veins makes your head spin as you attempt to process your own performance. Oh, how unreal it felt. It had been a long time since you last felt so moved by your own playing… yes, truly a long time. 

The audience applauds with the required politeness, if not a bit louder than usual. None of it falls on your ears, though. You’re too busy staring at Isagi’s distant face as he gazes back at you with sparkling cobalt eyes. He nearly forgets to clap, sitting so unblinkingly still that those in the seats next to him wonder if he’s alright. He’s more than alright – his mind is racing in the same way it does when he scores a goal, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep him from running to you now. 

As soon as you’re backstage, Yuki barrels into you, earning a few miffed glares from the last few performers preparing to go on. “Oh my god, that was amazing!” She whisper-yells, “I’ve never heard you play like that! See, I knew you’d do just fine without them in the audience.” 

Right. Them. You had forgotten about them while onstage. 

“I think I’ve found someone else worth playing for,” You murmur, half to yourself. For the first time, you didn’t really mind that your brothers hadn’t been there. Of course, it would’ve been nice, but without them… without them, you had made magic. You can make magic.

Yuki smiles brightly, the way she always does. “You’ve gotta tell me everything. And quickly, so as soon as this shindig is over you can head out and see your loverboy.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?”

“Trust me, it was obvious. I’m pretty sure everyone knew.”

So, of course, you tell her everything. And as soon as the final round of applause echoes down the hallway, you’re getting pushed toward the door, standing nervously in the auditorium lobby until a familiar face emerges from the exit doors.

You see him first, which means you get to watch in real-time as he sees you and immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. It’s his third epiphany of the day, and the only thing he can think to do is run toward you, frantically apologizing to strangers as he weaves through the crowd. Before you can even greet him or thank him for coming, he thrusts a large bouquet of flowers into your hands.

“You did amazing! Your music is like magic and I think I might be in love with you!” Isagi blurts out.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was probably tactless. No, it was definitely tactless. I’m sorry. It’s just, I saw you up there and I heard you play and it was like the music was talking to me and it was saying, oh, by the way, you have feelings for them and it’s actually ridiculous that you didn’t notice earlier because you’re absolutely whipped, y’know? Is that weird?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his unrestrained reaction, the genuineness in his tone. “No, it’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” He asks, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Of course not. It means you heard what I was trying to tell you.”

It’s his turn to be surprised, and he lets out a soft, confused, “Eh?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to confess to you directly, so I did it the only way I knew how. Yoichi, will you go out with me?” 

“Yes! Absolutely!” He beams, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen him smile before; little wrinkles appear next to his eyes and his slightly crooked teeth are on full display. Shyly, he asks: “Could I hug you?”

“Please do,” you say, opening your arms to let him wrap his tightly around you. For a moment you stand in silence (not true silence, of course, because the room is full of people) and feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He feels your heartbeat too, he swears he can hear it over the noise.

“Thank you for coming, Yoichi,” You whisper, gripping the flower bouquet tightly, “It means a lot to me that you could be here.”

He hugs you tighter, so tight it feels like your ribs might crack in his grip. “Of course. You always come to my big games, there’s no way I’d let myself miss one of your big events. Speaking of that, do you know when the results come out?”

Though you’d like to keep hugging him forever, you let go and check the time.

“They’ll let us back into the auditorium in an hour, though they never seem to announce the winners on time.”

“In that case, can I take you out on a date while we wait? Unless you already made plans to wait with someone else… ahh, I really should’ve thought this out more.” Isagi scratches the back of his neck with an awkward smile, a nervous habit of his that never seems to lose its charm.

“Oh, no, I don’t have plans. I’m sure Yuki’s already gone off with her boyfriend, and you’re the only person I really know who showed up to watch. Spending the hour with you is a serious step up from waiting alone.” 

“Let’s go then! There’s a cute café just down the road if you’re hungry, or we could go walk around the mall if you’d prefer.” 

Isagi lets you lead for the hour, making it a bit of an early celebration. Because while the results aren’t out just yet, he’s entirely sure that your performance is worth a hundred gold medals and more. Anything you want to do is good enough for him, even if it’s something as simple as window shopping in formal wear, and he does everything in his power to make sure he’s the best new boyfriend possible. After all, he’s won at life, hasn’t he? Because now he gets to date you – he gets to give you flowers and cheer for you and hold your hand and make you smile. 

As you sit in the adjacent seats waiting for the results to be announced, he rubs his finger affectionately over your thumb. 

“See, I told you they’d start late,” You whisper with a laugh.

“They must’ve realized their trophy wasn’t big enough to properly congratulate you,” He whispers back.

“Hey, don’t say things like that! I haven’t won yet.” 

“I don’t think you witnessed yourself perform. You did amazing.”

“And you’re not a musician, so you’re not qualified to decide who won.”

“Even an untrained ear can tell you were the best up there. Trust me.”

Before you can come up with a witty reply, the head judge steps up to the podium on stage, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand. She gives a short speech – something about appreciating the hard work of the competitors – but neither you nor Isagi hear half of what she says. The room is silent waiting for the top three to be announced. 

“In third place,” The Judge calmly says into the microphone, “Matsuoka Yuki.”

Immediately you burst into cheers, hastily untangling your hand from Isagi’s so you can applaud your friend. Her performance had been stunning, and she’s more than deserving of the prestigious accomplishment. 

“In second place,” The Judge continues, once the applause quiets down, “Watanabe Shigeru.”

Another talented performer, of course. He had won his fair share of competitions, and the two of you had stood together on the winner’s stage more than once. As soon as you finish applauding, Isagi grabs your hand and squeezes tightly, as if to say the Judge will call your name next, I just know she will.

The moment you spent months waiting for is here. Either your hours of rehearsal and stress and aching hands paid off, or they didn’t. And the only thing between you and knowing was one sentence from the Head Judge’s mouth.

“Finally, in first place, winner of the Japan National Piano Competition, Itoshi Y/n.”

I’ve won. It’s as if you’re up on that stage once more, the way that the room explodes into applause like thunder. Isagi is shouting and shaking you by the shoulders – he really couldn’t be prouder of you. He knew all along, it seems, that your indirect confession was worth a gold medal from the organization and a thousand more in his heart.

The head judge invites the winners up to the stage, and Isagi nearly pushes you out of your seat to receive your award. Yuki meets you onstage, whispering her polite but excited congratulations to you. You return them hurriedly before taking your place on stage to be presented with your trophy. The process of handshakes and photographs feels like it takes forever when all you and Isagi want is to spend the rest of the afternoon together in celebration. 

Isagi meets you in the auditorium lobby again, and he presents you with the same bouquet of flowers a second time. “You won! You actually won! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Thank you, Yoichi,” You say, grasping his hand with your free one, “Thank you for being here to inspire me. Now c’mon, let’s go celebrate!”

The rest of the afternoon is blissful, almost unreal, just you and Isagi enjoying the sweetness of victory and love. When your phone begins receiving text message after text message you can hardly be bothered to reply immediately, even when you get the message you nearly spent the whole day waiting for.

rin: good job on the competition or wtv

isagi 💚

[missmarveledsblog]

It's fate part two ( Bradley bradshaw x reader)

summary : bradley can't stay away and well jake soon finds out leading to a blow up game of dogfight football

warning: none its still goofy fun well one fight but other than that it's fluff

previous part

Never had he been sure of anything then fact was he sitting across from his future wife. From the way she laughed to smile , how she animatedly told him of the different kids in her class and how each was a character in their own right . he imagine would she talk like that about their kid albeit he was getting a little ahead  since he hadn’t even asked her on the first date nor did her brother his fellow aviator and well close friend he was even talking to her in the first place .  yet in that moment i wasn’t on his mind , jake wasn’t on his mind as he sat in the cafe on what was the third time he was meeting with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head. 

“ i’ve not let you get a word in have i ?” she chuckled looking up as she took a bite of her brownie . 

“ seriously talk away it amazing to hear about little katie and her overcoming the sandpit but i do wanna know if little zack got his dog cat yet?” he smiled almost dreamily as she laughed  the way her head fell back and the way the sound literally warmed his insides better then any coffee he’s drank so far taking full advantage of his weekend off  not caring to go to the beach  or beat jake in dog tag football like he usually is no bradley is content with sitting in a cafe listening about kids he never even saw . so lost in her not even the buzzing on his own phone snapped this spell she had on him till her own went off . 

“ sorry let me take this” she smiled before bringing it up to her ear. “ hey idiot … yeah i can come and bradley can bring me  .. what he’s here with me know  yeah jake we will be there soon” she rolled her eyes before hanging up . “ my dumb brother wants us to meet him at the beach something about some game” she shrugged as bradley came crashing back to earth. 

“ yeah sure  lets go i’ll follow you” he smiled as took got ready to leave watching as she walked out. “ well i guess i’ll see my parent quicker than i thought i would “ he sighed  leaving a tip on table  before slowly heading to what was going to be his doom . 

From the look on jake seresins face when they arrive on the beach well doom was the right and accurate world to describe the following . 

“ I’ll sit with little seresin ..hey i’m natasha you can call me nat”  phoenix smiled really not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of what was about to come as Mav called the two captains to only be jake and bradley . 

“ i told you she’s off limits chicken “ jake glared getting in position . 

“ i told you it’s fate bagman “ rooster almost copied as the two glared it didn’t matter who was on side no this was between them two and them alone in this game .  the moment javy passed the ball throwing it to bob who ultimately tried to throw it back to jake only for fanboy to intercept and throw it to payback then in turn threw it too rooster .  well with who he was determined to impress stood on side lines rooster ran playing probably the best he had since he ever came across the game . 

“ 1 point to roosters team “ Mav called as y/n cheered making her brother pissed off . 

 Throughout the game both men done whatever in their power knocking each other over diving and dotting  til the scores where tied both panting and glaring at each other as their teammates honestly was happy to call it a tie . 

“ is it usually this … violent” y/n asked nat worried for both men . 

“ well there a more push rate here” nat winced instantly catching her on to what it  was . 

Once she watched as the two began head to head like to bulls charging til it was no longer just pushing and well fist started fly sending the men over pull them apart both men yelling at mav with bruise cheeks and egos and she walked closer. 

“ he’s dating my sister” 

“ it’s not a date …yet she’s an adult asshat” .

“ a girl really grow hell up both of you” mav rolled his eyes as the two began shouting back and forth . 

“ sorry sir may i try  “ she smiled sweetly up all doe eyes and sugarly sweet . 

“ i’m willing to try anything kid knock yourself out “ now what mav didn’t expect was the loud whistle  that shut the boys up or the fast she grab both of the men by the ear . 

“ now y’all gonna talk like adults or am going to show you how we treat misbehaving children  “ she looked between the two sternly as they instantly shut up . 

“ you can’t date rooster , one he’s old as hell and two he’s my friend” jake huffed. 

“ jakey buddy you have slept with  i could easily name five of my friends and another five co workers   another think if i wanna sleep with or date someone i will choose myself i am adult seem more of an adult then you” she crouched. 

“ i said that , i’m not old as hell ” rooster spoke up . 

“ and you well goading my brother and hitting him ain’t gonna happen again because idiot or not i kinda love him is that clear “ she  stood as he gulped and nodded. “ now  shake hands and grow up because i will give that man my number and jake can tell you how my mama kept his ass in straight line” she stomped over to Mav. 

“ sorry chicken “ jake grumbled. 

“ sorry bagman” . 

“ like you mean it jesus “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ sorry bradley .. shit maybe if she dates you  be less well that” .

“ sorry jake … dude i might marry you sister today” . 

“ you can take me on a date first bradley brooster radley “ she chuckled gathering her things. 

“ have you ever thought of joining the navy?” Mav asked shocked at the scene before him . 

“Oh and bradley pick me up at 7 “ was all she said before she headed up the beach . 

“ yessss ma’am… my wife is so pretty” he sighed happily . 

“ you aint married her yet” jake chuckled 

“ i’m gonna i’m telling you its’ ….” 

“ Fate “ the all groaned . 

Now as first date would be, he was never a ball of emotions as he was now almost pacing a hole in jake seresins floor as he waiting for her to get ready . 

“ really man i’ll lose my deposit you keep that up “ the blonde huffed eyes on the game that played on his television . 

“ sorry my nerves are gonna dent your income man i’m freaking out and all while in the chicks living room in front of you “. 

“ man where was confidence from earlier look for some weird reason she really likes you so i’m pretty sure even you couldn’t screw this up “

“ yeah thanks for the shiner really what my outfit needed “ he grumbled . 

“  you ready” she called and god she almost knocked him on his ass as he took in the sight of her man she could wear a potato sack and still look like a queen . the white sun dress hit her thighs or the red lips that paired well with her nails like something straight out of his fantasy . 

“ yeah .. yup ..yes.. Lets go “ he sighed ignoring the weird look jake was giving him or the way she was hiding her amusement . 

“ home by midnight” jake called . 

“ i’ll be home whenever i want to” she called back as door shut .

“ jesus he really is gonna be my brother in law” the blonde groaned .

part three

[the-kr8tor]

Snake Eyes

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), TW death, CW blood and gore, CW violence, TW abuse mention, CW injury, CW guns, Cowboy AU, Wild west AU.

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CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

Hobie looks at you before he exits the train car, wind blowing in his face, the loud chugging of engine roaring in his ears— but the only thing he could think of was you, you who stands behind him quietly as if you weren't right behind him. He'd take your hand in his, grasp blindly from behind to hold you and make his heart feel at ease with the simple gesture. He'd take your hand in his if not for his hands occupied with instruments of death. He hates that he can't stand not seeing you.

He still feels that he doesn't deserve you, he still feels that he hasn't done anything to deserve his atonement. In his entire life he has faced the worst things, dodged a hundred bullets, shot a hundred more, endured the soil in his lungs and faced death itself— but this is nothing compared to those, because you weren't there to see it, you weren't there to experience it just like how he did. You weren't caught in the crossfire, until now.

“Hobie,” your voice cuts through the fog that envelopes the mountain side where the train tracks wrap around like a snake eating itself. Your hand lays on top of his own that tightens around the doorknob to the next car. The same calloused hands that carry the weight of all of his wrongdoings and death he has committed. And yet, you still hold on to his rough hands like light at the end of a dark tunnel. “You're trembling,” he flicks his eyes downwards, seeing his hand shake under your own. “We can do this.” You smile, brightening up his view.

“What if we just leave.” His mind speaks before he even lets the thought escape. You blink, sliding your palm over to his thundering pulse. Everything overwhelms him, how his lips felt upon yours, how the smoke clings to his clothes and how everything is loud in his ears akin to lightning hitting and splitting a tree. He feels like that tree. “Uncouple the caboose and take the horses out of ‘ere.” He already knows what you're about to say. Leaving means giving up on the innocent bystanders behind the door, but if it's between them and you? He'd choose you everytime.

“And leave them?” You point towards the car door with your head. “What about Clementine and her family? We can't leave all those people behind, Hobie.” Your eyes shine in the moonlight, and he nods.

“Alright,” Hobie's vision plays tricks on him, he sees blood and carnage all over you. Your once hopeful eyes now lifeless, staring back at him without the shine he's used to. His heart pounds in his chest, he can tell that you're terrified too. “Just stay close to me, yeah?”

You grip tighter on his hand, feeling how cold he is and none of the usual warmth you're used to. “I'll stay close, I promise I got your back.”

“The second I open the door you duck and find a table or a fuckin'—”

You cup his jaw gently, “we'll be fine, we'll get out of this and ride into the sunset with Bucky and Cherry.” You try to be positive for him.

Hobie inhales, letting your honeyed scent waft over him. “If we get separated, head towards our cabin. We'll meet there.”

“And then what?”

He nervously chuckles. “I've got no bloody clue, love.”

“Me neither.” You snort, laying your forehead on his bicep briefly. “You ready, Mister Larry Brown?”

That puts a smile on his face. With a twist of the doorknob, you're met with a handful of men wearing shiny gold pins on their chests. They're startled by the sudden sight of you, and Hobie takes their shock as an opportunity to fan his gun, palm on the hammer, trigger finger pressing, bullets flying and hitting its mark quickly. They couldn't even take out their guns. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground made you sigh in relief. You think it's awful of you.

“Good shooting, Hobs.” You pat his back, hand lingering on his coat. Maybe it's your own nerves that's making you say such things.

Hobie recognizes that this is how you cope. “Rate it?”

You crack a wobbly smile, gun heavy in your hand. “Eight point five.”

He makes a face, “not that bad—” The sound of a bottle rolling across the floor immediately has Hobie raising his gun. An old man you recognize as the conductor comes out of the bar, hands raised in surrender. You both now notice the passengers hiding under tables and behind the bar. They're all unharmed, except for a few bruises and scratches. “How many?” His gun is still comfortably in his hand aiming below just in case. He's not taking any chances.

The older man doesn't speak, only shaking his head. He might be afraid of you and Hobie, seeing how the man next to you just flattened five men without hesitation. You want to tell him that there's nothing to be afraid of, but you fear that he won't believe you.

“He doesn't know. Knowing our bounties— if I was them I'd bring the whole cavalry.” Hobie mumbles, thanking the man with a nod. He takes bullets from his belt, immediately reloading the ones that he used up, metal rains down on the carpet. With a click, he gestures for you to follow while he walks towards the other side of the car; stepping over dead bodies and leaving blood trails in his wake. There's determination behind his jade eyes, and anger swirling behind them like a dust storm rolling just across the field. “They brought out the whole bloody lot of them for us.”

“Guess we're special.” You crouch down to take a rifle from one of the dead men. It's weirdly looking, there's a hunting knife strapped above the muzzle, all tied together by a thick rope— a makeshift bayonet. You figure the former owner is a psychopath for adding a blade on his gun, it's not like the bullet wasn't enough but he still wants his pound of flesh. A part of you is glad that he no longer breathes. After taking the rifle, you then lift up his torso to grab his bandolier, putting it over your shoulders and wearing it like a sash. Taking inventory of the gun, checking if it has jammed, Hobie takes watch on the door, peeking from the sliver of opening from the ajar door.

“You good, love?”

“Yeah, I'm a better shot with a rifle.” You holster the gun Hobie gave you as your last resort.

He knits his brows. “I've never seen you hold a rifle back then. I taught you with a six shooter.”

Shrugging, you hold the rifle in place, the butt of it is rough against your shoulder, barrel cold on your palm. “I taught myself with a rifle.”

“Huntin’?”

You sigh, giving him a weak smile. “Sure. I didn't see Clem or her parents behind the bar.”

“They might be inside their cabin.” Hobie understands the worry behind your words. “We'll find them.”

You nod shakily, licking your dry lips. “We will, I know it.”

Hobie gives you a once over, he doesn't ask if you're alright or to tell you to stay behind because he knows the answers to both of those questions. “Okay, opening the door now.”

The wind rushes inside as he flings it open, rusty metal squeaking on the door hinges. Droplets of cool water hits your cheeks, knees aching a bit, cold breeze howling and nipping at your neck. Rain is coming.

You stalk behind Hobie, he enters the door, you follow. He shoots, you shoot the stragglers that can still hold their gun up. It's an elaborate dance of death.

Blood seeps into the floorboards and on the soles of your boots. Your eyes are alert, heartbeat raging in your ears as you don't falter in your aim, trigger finger always on the metal. You smell like gunpowder and steel, and there's crimson splashed across the men's once gilded badges.

“You still good?” Hobie asks in front of you, his footsteps are calculated and silent save for the soft clicking of his spurs. “Y/N,” he asks once again when you don't answer within a second.

“I'm okay, sorry, I was looking for them.” You scan the dining car. The tables have drops of red coating the white marble, plush chairs reeking of gore. It's devoid of any passengers, you're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad one.

Hobie is already positioned at the door, waiting for you. “Alright,” his mind keeps telling him that your luck will soon run out. That the element of surprise won't be on his side the next time he opens the door. He's never been this afraid since he was buried alive five years ago. You arrive at his side, he can finally breathe. “The next car is the kitchen. They might've heard us coming by now.”

You nod, you're terrified but not for your own safety but for Hobie's, and the passengers. You've made your peace that you might not make it out of this alive just like how you've done when you escaped that horrid place. “I'm ready.”

He looks at you for a second before sliding his hand over your cheek, calloused hands that almost feel soft atop your skin. His thumb rubs along your cheekbones, silently wishing for an outcome where you both live to see the sunrise. “Don’t die on me.”

You lean to his touch, moving your head slightly to kiss his rough palm. He stops breathing for a second. “I won't die on you if you don't die on me.”

With a soft smile and a peck to your forehead, he nods his promise. “I promise.” He opens the door, the drizzle has turned into a downpour, it soaks his clothes, sticking to his scarred skin, and cold water splashing over his hat and atop the warm barrel of his gun. He opens the door with a creak after crossing the small distance.

You're both met with a barrage of bullets, Hobie pushes you to the side, effectively hiding you behind a counter while he gets nicked by a bullet across his thigh as he jumps behind a metal box.

“Fuck!” He yells, taking off his bandana to wrap it around the wound. Crimson immediately drenches the cloth, turning the already dark bandana into a darker shade.

“Hobie!” You call for him above the sound of guns going off and bullets hitting where you stood. Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you see the identical gold ring wrapped around a piece of twine, the necklace sits pretty on his clavicle, shiny and well taken care of; A stark contrast to the jagged scar lined on his neck.

He gives you a thumbs up, unbeknownst to the mixture of emotions you're experiencing. He even winks at you while he groans in pain. Your eyes are full of longing, tears pricking at the corners. He points at the gunmen, counting down, waiting for them to use up all their ammo.

He puts a finger down, three. One by one, the guns click.

Two. You hear panicked yells behind the counter.

One. The bullets stop flying. They frantically reload, metal scraping against metal.

Hobie nods and quickly lifts himself off his cover, fanning his gun, he shoots them down while you do the same. You both hit your marks just as when the last of your ammo pings out— metal meets flesh in a firework of rubies and torn insides. The entire kitchen smells of iron and gunpowder, you hide behind the counter again to reload.

“Shit.” You whisper as you reload the rifle, it makes a ping sound when you take out the cartridge. Fingers sliding on the metal from how the rain water has slicked your palms. Your pulse beats to the tune of the thunder outside the train. Trees whizz by the windows, raindrops clinging to the fogged up glass outside. Just as you finally finish reloading, you see Hobie stand up and confidently walk forward with his gun raised, shooting until not a single one of them twitches. You watch him work in awe.

The door next to you suddenly opens, the unmistakable silver muzzle of a gun peeking from the door that hides the man from your view, strong hands aiming directly at Hobie who's reloading. Without hesitation, you shoot the door where you've calculated where the man's torso is supposed to be. Splintered wood flies all over you, the gunshot rings in your ears, and your face is covered in something warm.

Hobie watches as the man goes down, almost dead, choking on his own blood for you have shot at the stranger's trachea. He scrambles towards you who's covered in blood. Crouching down, he slowly moves the barrel of the rifle away from him to wipe your face clean. Your eyes are wide, staring at the body lying just a few feet away from you. The man still desperately breathes, hand uselessly cupping at his gaping wound, blood seeping through his fingers, teeth stained with crimson, and dark bloodshot eyes looking at you. You watch as the light in his eyes goes out, and you realize, you're the last thing he ever saw.

Your ears stop ringing and you can finally hear Hobie call your name. “Love, just breathe.”

“I'm okay,” you say, blood smudged all over your soft skin. “I'm okay.” You utter it like you're trying to convince yourself. He hates that he has made you into this, a killer.

“Can you stand up?” His hand clasp your own, fingers kneading at your shaking palms.

“Yeah, I-I think so.” You stand up on wobbly legs, inhaling deeply, a mistake on your end, for the air has gone stale with iron and boiling water from the abandoned pot.

Hobie's palm is on your chest, encouraging you to breathe. In and out, in and out, you almost gagged. “You're doin' great, just keep doin' that—” A shot rings out, two men enters the train car, one is huge in form, brandishing a pistol. The smaller one has a shotgun with a crazed look in his eyes. The bullet misses your head by mere inches, leaving a gash across the shell of your ear. “Fuckin' wankers!” Hobie exclaims, the hand on your shoulder makes you sit back down, the other shooting at the men. Your blood soaked your once pristine collar. You don't feel the pain.

“Not her, you moron!” The bigger one shoves the other, Hobie is emptying his bullets, gunpowder permeating the stale air, mixing in with the iron and heat.

Everything else was a blur to you as you look at the pool of blood that's slowly making its way towards you. You hear your heartbeat quickening, the metal of the rifle in your hand stings, leaving indents on your palms. With a pained yell from Hobie, you wake up from your trance, just as you stand up, you're met face to face with the man who wields a shotgun. He yells, the butt of his gun aimed at your head. But you're faster, so you jab his stomach with your rifle, digging the bayonet into his flesh, blood seeps out of his white shirt from the knife. Despite his size, you've got the advantage, you've got everything to lose if you fail, so you fight, and survive, and will fight again because you promised Hobie.

Your attacker's gun falls from his grasp, staggering on his own two feet. He yelps as you push and push him into a table as you launch yourself quickly. The edge of the table stabs the small of his back, groaning, adrenaline rushing through you, you don't hesitate in pulling the trigger.

“No, wait—!” There's a gaping hole in his stomach, his entrails lay bare to you. That warm liquid is on your face again, it coats your white shirt, on your shoes as it drips down, and now your hands.

Hobie hears the gunshot, he looks over his shoulder to check, a mistake for he gets a punch to the gut. Hobie desperately fights the other assailant, dodging fists as they've both run out of ammo without time to reload. The man is visibly bigger than him, taller, and with more muscle. He's outmatched but he's not going to give up. Hobie has his fists shielding him, standing just a few feet away from you, if the man wanted to get to you, he had to get through him first. while the lawman does the same, both of them spit out blood that stains their teeth. The stranger smirks, eyes flicking over to you who just shot his partner. Before he could rush towards you, Hobie leaps up effortlessly, hands gripping a metal pipe above, swinging his legs towards the man to kick him. Steel toed boots hit his chest, but it's no use, even with the momentum, the kick barely fazed him.

“Fuck—” Hobie groans as the man grabs his middle, pouncing on him, trying to take him down but Hobie's grip on the metal is too strong. His legs wrap around his opponent’s neck, squeezing in hopes that it’ll choke him. Hobie’s side stings while the attacker takes a few hits in, using him as a punching bag. He squeezes tighter, trying to twist and snap his neck. The man gasps for breath but his fists still connect to his side.

You take out your gun from the man's dead body, rushing towards them, rifle aimed at Hobie's attacker. You pull the trigger but it clicks and nothing happens. It's jammed, your mind quickly decides for you, with the adrenaline rushing, mind addled, you pick up the boiling pot with your bare hands. It's hot, but only for a moment. You fling the searing water towards the man's back, Hobie lets go before the water hits him, lifting himself on the pipe, legs raised up and perpendicular to his body as he dodges the boiling water. Steam and water flies, landing directly at the lawman's face just as he turns towards you. He screams in pain, his shirt now burning into his skin, melting into his flesh. Hobie drops down, the pot clangs as you let it go.

The screaming gets into your ears, worming its way into your ear canals, so you do what you should've done to the man behind the door while he suffered— you put him out of his misery. Quick drawing the six shooter Hobie gave you, you shoot, hitting your mark as his body falls loudly on the floorboards.

Hobie heaves, and you stare at the carnage before you, carnage you've had your hand in. You suddenly feel rough hands on your own, he helps holster your gun back before checking the damage on your palms. The pot burned your skin, it's red and angry, lines in the shape of the handle have permanently etched into your flesh, right next to the scar Hobie helped stitch years ago. Weirdly enough, you can't feel the blinding pain.

“‘m sorry,” he says, reluctantly letting your hands go as he picks up his fallen gun off the corpse-ridden floor.

“What for?” Your voice cracks, barely recognizing it as your own.

“For everythin’, we shouldn't have gotten on this train in the first place, or any train.” Hobie sees how dull your eyes have become, the iris of your eyes have become restless, always moving, always checking for threats. You've become like him in the span of a few minutes.

You try to smile, it ends up looking like you're in pain. “Apology accepted, make it up to me by surviving the night—!” There's a lasso around your neck, you see Hobie's face contort into horror as you get pushed down on the floor, noose getting tighter as you gasp for air. Before he could shoot the one on the other end of the lasso, you're quickly dragged across the floor, body flailing like a ragdoll as the one dragging you around laughs.

“No! Y/N!” Hobie's thundering footsteps follow behind, shooting someone behind you. But you're still getting dragged around through train car to train car, rain battering your body whenever the person hauls you outside, the rough floor stings against your back. “Let her go!”

Black dots dance around your vision as your fingers try to get between the harsh rope and your neck. Your other hand reaches desperately at your gun holster. Fingers brush along the cool metal, ceilings whizzing above you. You're running out of air, and Hobie's running out of ammo. His panic and the rattle of the train makes his aim terrible. The man continues to lug and pull you as if you're a prized doe that they just hunted down.

The rope is choking you, leaving you with a mark around your neck and a skinned back from the floorboards that slash at your coat.

Gasping, you lift your leg up, finally reaching for the gun, quickly pushing down the hammer and leaning your head back to aim. The man dragging you about keeps moving from side to side, you shoot a couple of times but to no avail, panic sets in as your arm gets weaker, breath getting shallow, and your eyesight blurring. Your gun falls from your grasp, left behind as darkness envelops you.

Bang!

A body thuds, Hobie runs after you, the barrel of his gun still smoking as you lay limp on the carpeted floor. He gets to your side, immediately untying the noose around your sore neck. Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air, laying on your side as you try to take in breaths. You blink away the black dots and you're met with Clementine’s familiar eyes. Her mother holds her to her chest, hands covering her daughter's ears. While her father shields them both even with blood coating his forehead. They're terrified, you wonder if they're terrified of you.

Hobie pats your back for you to breathe better. “‘m sorry, fuck, Y/N,” he gingerly holds your face. “Look at me,” there's unshed tears in your eyes. He was almost too late, if his aim was just a few inches off— he doesn't want to think about it. Your eyes are glued to Clementine’s terror filled expression. “Oi, love, can you look at me please?”

You turn your head, neck aching and tender, you're met with soft viridescent eyes that smile when you finally stare back. He briefly turns his attention to the family cowering in their cabin before turning towards you again. “I have a plan,” he says while you hold his wrists, unable to speak. Hobie's heart aches at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. “We need to get to the engine, there's more comin', I can hear them.” Hobie struggles to breathe, so you slide your palm on his chest just like he did to you, wordlessly telling him to breathe. Nodding, he inhales deeply. “Uncouple the engine from the rest of the train. That's the only way we can get out of ‘ere.”

“What about them?” You manage to let out, you don't recognize your own voice. He knows what you mean.

“They're after us, not them. The most they can do is question them.” He tries to convince you even though he's not convinced himself.

You gesture towards Clem's father. “He's bleeding from his fucking head, Hobie—!”

“I'm alright,” Jesse chimes in, his wife nods along but she doesn't let go of Clem or his hand. “I got this because everyone started running away from the gunshots. I got trampled but I'm fine now.” His eyes pleads with you. “He's right, they won't touch us.”

“What if they do?” Tears cling to your lashes.

“There's more of us than them.” You don't expect him to chuckle, the pistol in his hand glimmers under the yellow light of the cabin. “Trust me, we're more trouble for them. I'm from the south, these kinds of things happen on the regular over there.” The scar on his brow tells you of his struggle, telling you that he can protect his family. “Worry about yourself.”

Hobie nods, thanking him silently while he still holds on to you.

“Get out while you can, sweetheart.” Florence addresses you. “I don't know what you two did but we don't care about them, just you. And you've got a good heart, so go.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice breaking. “Get to the caboose, there's more people there.”

They take your advice, standing up while Florence carries Clementine. Jesse goes in front of them, gun at the ready. Hobie helps you stand up and you watch as Clem waves goodbye to you.

“Bye, Clementine.” You whisper, a jar of honey rolls around the cabin and you frown, mind telling you that you might've traumatized the poor kid.

“They'll be alright.” Hobie brushes his knuckles against the back of your hand, careful of any injuries you're not telling him. “Let's go, love,” as he leads you outside of the cabin car, you spot a few more passengers running towards the back of the car.

You swallow thickly, neck stinging, burn marks left at your palms and neck. Your back throbs, but all the pain doesn't compare to the torture back home. Your great aunt throws despicable words at you, as if her jabbing you with stationary wasn't enough, with your so-called uncle always watching every punishment from the corner like a peeping tom. And him, he'd do worse than those two combined, perhaps he learned how to hurt you from them. And perhaps he has mastered the torture.

Suddenly, you're back at home in your pretty dress, pristine and looking like the perfect lady. But your velvet sleeves and satin skirts hide the tiny pin pricks and drying blood, the expensive jewelry outshines the apocalyptic look in your eyes. The ring around your ring finger keeps it all hidden— they call you lucky, they say that you glow under the chandeliers like the diamonds around your neck, yet, they pretend to be blind from how you stare outside the mansion like a doe caught in a bear’s trap longing to be free.

The rain hitting your face wakes you back to the present. Hobie's arm is around your middle, hovering just above your wounded back. With the cold raining down on you briefly, entering the next car, a group of men greet you on the other side.

“Finally made it.” The man in the middle says, he has a gilded star on his chest, twirled mustache on his face, and crow's feet around his green eyes. There's a hand cannon on his hand, the metal is all worn out and scuffed. “The name's Lee, I'm the sheriff around these parts.” He says, stubbing his cigarette atop a plush seat. You're in a regular train car that's lined with seats for the ones who're not in for the long haul. The rain outside keeps battering the windows, their guns are aimed at Hobie. “There’s a bounty on your head, Mister Brown. And I heard someone's lookin’ for you, pretty lady. You two got us running without our heads out there while you were on the dodge. But we got you now, eh?”

Hobie gets shoved from behind, and you both stumble forward. A couple of Lee's men appear, pushing you both closer to the sheriff with the muzzle of their guns. Hobie holds on tighter to you, and your gaze pierces the man in front of you.

You're surrounded. And Hobie feels like he's being buried again.

His eyes flick towards the windows, behind the water droplets lie a familiar view of a large lake— he knows this place, he knows where they're heading, all he needs to do is stall for time.

“You're lawmen, not bounty hunters.” Hobie taunts, “government not paying enough, sheriff?”

The man in front of you chuckles, lighting up a new cigarette with a flourish. You feel the acrid smoke enter your lungs. “A man's gotta eat, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. Just like dumb and dumber who tried to ambush us by the river.” Hobie has a smug look, acting nonchalant, but his grip on you says otherwise.

You're worried when the lawman drops his confident stance. “What are you doing?” You whisper to Hobie, eyes never leaving your enemies.

“When I tell you to run, you run.” He whispers back, glancing briefly at you.

You don't protest, trusting him completely. You don't say, ‘alright,’ or ‘okay’ for confirmation that you'll follow whatever he's planning. Instead, you say the three words you've wanted to say to him, the real him, not the one from your dreams or hazy illusions— Hobie, your Hobie who used to greet you with a boyish smile under the oak tree. “I love you.”

His brave façade falls, you smile sweetly at him as you lean your head against his clavicle. Hobie makes an oath right there and then that he'll say it back when he deserves to say it to you, when he gets you to safety. For now, he holds onto you like how he desperately grasps onto the memory of you while you were thousands of miles away from him.

“That's a sweet sight,” the sheriff drawls, “looks like she knows that it's all over. But I can see that you don't.” He exhales smoke, it fills the cabin with sickly air. “You're off to the widow, mister Brown.”

Hobie smirks, you can see the cogs in his mind turn. “I think I remember you now, old man.”

Lee licks his teeth, the men at his command adjust their hold on their guns. “You remember now haven't you?” His spurs click against the floor when he moves closer, you notice he walks with a slight limp that he tries hard to not be noticeable. Hobie flicks his eyes outside.

“Yeah,” Hobie laughs to your surprise, “how's your leg? Or better yet, how's your son?”

“You motherfucker! Hobble your fucking lip!” Lee finally raises his pistol, cigarette ash falling from his lips that curls around the stick. It makes Hobie more amused. “Bet you don't even remember his fucking name.” He says through gritted teeth.

Hobie tilts his head, clicking his tongue, pretending to think. “Was it Jerry? Or Ronald? I don't remember, he didn't leave much of a mark on me.”

“I should shoot you right now.”

“Why don't you?” He raises a brow. A tall willow outside whizzes past. Hobie counts down in his head.

“Because the pay is higher if I bring you alive.” The man's green eyes stare at you. You feel like you're being scrutinized on stage. “Besides, I don't want to shoot you in front of your woman.” He gives you a toothy smile. “Why don't you come over here, sweetheart, I won't do you any harm. I'm just going to bring you home.”

You shake your head, trying to act brave now that the adrenaline has sapped out all of your energy. “That's worse than hurting me, sheriff.”

“Now why is that? Your family misses you.”

“I'd rather you shoot me with him than bring me back home.” Hobie listens in, guilt gnawing at his insides.

Sheriff Lee makes a face, befuddled by your words. “You’d rather die?”

“Without hesitation.”

He nods, looking like he's weighing his choices. “Now that's the love of a woman right there. I've only seen it a couple of times, one is from my own wife.” More ashes fall from his cigarette, the stick getting smaller and smaller with every exhale. Hobie uses it as a countdown. It's near, he can feel it from the rumble on the tracks.

Hobie scoffs, “‘m surprised that your wife stuck around with your ugly mug.” His fingers subtly unclasp the whip hanging on his belt.

Lee runs out of patience, clicking the hammer of his pistol, “this is for my son.” The last of the ashes from the cigarette falls, light completely going out from the stick.

Your eyes widens, body already moving to shield Hobie. In an instant, He yells, “Run!” Darkness engulfs the entire train car, gunshots let out muzzle flashes of light as the lawmen shoot with panic in their trigger fingers. You run forward, bodying Lee in the process. You hear the crack of a whip as you shield your head with your arms.

You land on the metal door, vision still dark while you blindly feel for the doorknob. Panicking, a familiar form presses behind you, immediately finding the doorknob and opening it for you. Stepping outside in a rush, you almost fall off the train if not for your reflexes making you hold onto the railing beside you.

With a creak of the door closing, gunshots muffling, you spot Hobie's silhouette amidst the darkness, you can't decipher what he's doing with the door. Noticing the rain has stopped, you look above, but in a second, rain hits your form like a waterfall, and the moon shines brightly. You were in a tunnel, and Hobie knew that the dark would give you an escape.

“Holy shit!” Like a thunderbolt, you whirl around to face Hobie to either kiss him or hug him. But you're met with his pained face, hand clutching his side as blood seeps out from his fingers. “No, no, no!” You press hard on his wound, he yelps, but he's grinning at you. “This isn't funny!”

He smiles wider, you think he has lost it. “It isn't, I just can't believe you told me you love me in there.”

You'd smack his shoulder if not for his injury. “You're an idiot, Hobie Brown,” he laughs, you smile, “a brilliant idiot.”

“I am quite brilliant.” You nod, tears mixing in with rain water, kissing his cheeks, you hear a muffled, “I can't believe that worked.” From him, so you pepper more kisses on his wet cheeks. “‘m lovin’ this, but we need to uncouple the cars. And we have an audience.”

You look over your shoulder, hands still on his wound. Two men look at you from the smokestack, one pauses from shoveling coal into the engine while the train driver blinks rapidly in shock.

“We're commandeering this train,” Hobie straightens up, jumping over the gap to get to the controls. Both men don't even protest, just silently raising their hands in mock surrender. He makes them stand in the corner that's further away from the controls, they obey. “C’mon, love.” He beckons you over, fingers opening and closing.

You hold out your hand just as when there's loud banging on the other side of the doors. Jumping the gap, you stand chest to chest with Hobie. There's hope yet for you two to safely escape.

The door doesn't budge from how Hobie locked it using his whip to tie the doorknob around the railing on the side. But it won't hold on forever.

The scenery has changed from the mountainside to a straight muddy plain. The tracks seem to go on forever, and you can see the next station just a few meters away.

“Alright,” He looks at the confusing controls. “Which button to unclasp the cars?” He thanks his adrenaline for keeping him on his feet.

“No button,” the one with the official looking uniform says. “You have to do it manually.” He glances at the floor where there's metal connecting the engine to the carriages.

You immediately get on your knees, wet hands sliding on the rusted metal. Desperately pulling on the large nail that connects both winches. You keep trying to pull it off. Your hands slide off so you try again. And again. Your hands smell of rust. And again. But it's all in vain, the hold is too strong.

“Shit—!” Hobie tries to help by crouching down but his wound denies him. Wincing, he lays his head against the wall, eyes flicking between you and the door that's barely holding on. He weakly raises his gun, seeing the chambers now devoid of any ammo. “Fucker.” He tries to find more bullets from his bandolier and pockets, but he finds none.

You look at the two men wordlessly watching you fail. The rain and harsh wind still smacks your face. “Please, those men on the other side will kill us if you don't help.”

The driver shrugs and joins you on the floor, but instead of pulling onto the nail, he leans further down, sliding his hand underneath the winch and turning a wheel counter clockwise.

“You turn, not pull.” He says to you, continuing to loosen the connection.

“Now you tell me.”

Hobie tells the other person to keep shoveling in coal so when the engine is free, the four of you would be way ahead of the car. The engine runs hotter with every coal shoved inside, you suddenly feel warm, clothes slowly drying from the intense heat.

You can see the metal loosening, you'd exhale a relieved breath but the door bursts open. Sheriff Lee comes out covered in blood with a pistol. One eye closed and bleeding. Behind him, you can see the bodies of his men littered around the car, all shot to bits, the seats covered in their blood. Only Lee and a couple of them survived who now stood beside him while clutching their gunshot wounds.

“You made me shoot my own men!” He seethes, without a beat, he shoots but his aim isn't straight. The bullet pierces the man helping you. His headless body falls limp and falls out of the train and under the tracks, leaving crimson trails behind.

You don't have time to scream when his warm blood splashes across your face and sleeves. Hobie grabs you to the side, a small sliver of metal wall shielding you both. His hand shields your head, arms encasing you. The train passes by the last station in a blur.

The other train worker does the same, crouching down on the other side, shielded by the same small wall. Hobie sees the man's pistol hidden in the waistband of his denim jeans.

“Oi!” He yells above the gunshots, “throw me your gun!”

“What?! No!”

“You're not even bloody using it!”

“You're an asshole!”

“Just give us the fucking gun!” You yell back in a quick tone.

With a shake of the stranger's head, he reluctantly tosses you the gun. Lee sees the opportunity and shoots the guy's hand. He screams as blood gushes out, the gun clangs on the floor just an arm away from you.

The poor man's screams get louder, and suddenly he stands up, pushing himself off the floor and jumping out of the moving train and into the muddled swampy ground. You don't know if he survived the jump, or if the gators got to him first.

Hobie whispers a shocked, “what the fuck,” in your ears. He groans as his wound gets rattled by the tracks. “The gun,” before he could even get a toe outside, a bullet nicks the steel point of his boots. Taking his foot back, he curses and punches the wall behind him in frustration.

You stare at the weapon that's slowly moving downwards and into the space between the cars and engine. It's going to fall off if you don't act fast.

“They need to reload.”

“What?” Hobie asks tiredly. He hears the guns click, indicating that they've run out, “wait— Y/N, no!”

Without missing a beat, you reach towards the gun swiftly before they finish reloading. Hobie yanks you back the second you get the gun in your hand. A bullet pierces the floor where you were just a second ago.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Lee taunts.

You clutch the gun on your chest. Checking the chamber, you only see two bullets in it. Hobie leans over to see it. “Fuck!” You both say simultaneously.

“We've got two shots at this, Y/N.” Hobie looks at you, his green eyes gets darker even though dawn is just about arriving. His hand slides around the gun and your hand. “Let me do it.”

You shake your head, briefly laying your forehead on his. “No, you've done more than enough.”

He furrows his brows, “let me do it, love, I owe you that much.” It's not because he doesn't trust you and your aim, he knows better than that. He just doesn't want you to be in their crosshairs again.

The gunshots seize, without a reply, you leave his side, sliding on the floor to shoot. You find no one on the other side, just a brief last look at Lee's retreating back. Hobie pulls you back in, “they left.” You say, confused. Standing up, you help Hobie up, eyes widening at the front of the train.

“Cowards.” He says with a victorious smile. He expects you to smile back but you only have a look of terror. “What is it?” He follows your line of sight, and sees the lack of tracks looming closer and closer. “Fuckin' hell!” Hands immediately trying to pull down the brakes, he ignores the pain on his side as he keeps trying to push it down with his weight. “Y/N!” Looking over his shoulder, he sees you crouched down, uncoupling the car from the engine. Within a second, you free the train cars, leaving it in the dust as it slowly comes to a stop. He thinks of Bucky and Cherry, and the innocent passengers.

You turn to face him with glossy eyes, the rain has subsided, grey clouds parting away for sunlight. Hobie shakes his head, refusing to give up as the train chugs on, smoke billowing out. Pushing the brakes down, he feels your hands wrap around his own.

“Together.” You say, smiling softly just like how you did amidst the crowd back home.

He nods, your hands are uncharacteristically cold against his own. “Together.”

With one final push from the two of you, railway workers run away from the tracks they're working on as they see you continue to move fast. They yell and wave their hands to get your attention, but your eyes are only on Hobie's face. Everything happens slowly, the brakes screech, sparks flying as metal hits steel, but the momentum is too fast, and the engine bursts from the speed and heat. You slam against the controls with a sickening thud. Arms embrace you as the train crashes and you're once again in darkness.

—

Hobie's head throbs, he feels numb, fingers tingling, and his field of vision is blurry. Blobs of colours fly past him, screams muffled in his ears as if he's caught under the tides. He tries to blink the fuzziness away, after a few weak tries, he sees your bloodied soot-covered face, and feels your hands on his cheeks.; desperately holding on to him.

“Hobie!” You cry. He wants to comfort you and tell you everything will be alright. “Someone help us please!”

His perception darkens, inky spots appearing just as he sees a metal beast creak and groan while it burns in the fiery destruction. There's hundreds of fiber-like metal bursting out from within, like an angel losing its wings, fallen from grace. That's the last thing he sees before he succumbs to the pain.

—

“Try to keep him awake!” An unfamiliar person says.

Hobie feels like there's water inside his head, sloshing around in his pain-addled brain. He forces his heavy eyelids to open, Bucky's face greets him. I'm dead, he thinks, then your hands wrap around his own, squeezing a dozen times. “I'm in heaven then,” he tries to speak but it only comes out as a jumbled mess of words.

“Stay awake, Hobie!” You yell, “please! Hurry up, mister! He's starting to bleed from his ears!”

“Love—” he says before blacking out again.

—

His nose picks up something musty in the air, it's humid, crickets chirping outside, and he's sweating a lot. His head still aches, a pounding pain right behind his eyes. Hand reaching upwards, he feels bandages wrapped around his head, groaning in pain at the simple gesture. He smacks his lips, realizing that his throat is dry. Time has passed, he surmises based on how his wounds are starting to itch, indicating that it has been at least a few days.

He opens his eyes wide, panic settles in his stomach, remembering your terrified bloody face looming above him. Sitting up from the lumpy bed, his sight darkens for a second from how fast he sat up. Whispering your name, he coughs dryly, arm perching him up. He calls again, a bit louder this time, but he doesn't hear a pip anywhere except for the rushing water outside and the insects.

“Love?” He heaves, rolling to the side. Moving his heavy head up, he sees your coat draped over a lone armchair, but still no you. “Y/N!” Yelling with all his might even though his head bangs against his skull. After a few seconds, his ears pick up your muffled voice that seems to be coming below him. He calls once again with a soft smile on his lips, hands fisting the sheets when a wave of pain crashes down on him.

Ears ringing from the blinding pain, he's sure he hears numerous unfamiliar voices downstairs. He blinks the warbling vision away, then his heart picks up pace from the sound of a loud thud. Eyeing the plain door, your piercing scream brings his greatest fear come to life.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @thatsapillowcase

[lazy-sixteen]

I was thinking about the themes of One Piece, and what differentiated out characters we see as good versus bad, especially in a work that takes a really accepting view of different moral standpoints and values (Coby and SWORDS's justice is very different from Sabo and the RA's justice but they are both presented as good guys we'd want to root for).

So like, why do we root for Luffy following his dream to be Pirate King, but not Teach?

What about hating Crocodile who wanted to create an ideal society free of the WG but not the RA who want something similar for whole the world?

Big Mom who wants to create a place where all sentient are equal and get along versus Koala and/or Otohime who dream of that same thing for humans and fishmen?

I mean the obvious answer is that protagonists and their allies tend to be likeable - they are usually drawn prettier, have less kick the dog moments, and we get more time with them as an audience. They have to be on some level, or no one would read the manga.

But from an in-story perspective, I think its a an under looked facet of Luffy's character, for him chasing his dream is more important than obtaining it. It's why he turns down Rayleigh straight up offering to tell him where Laugh Tale is, and what is on it. What is important to Luffy isn't so much becoming Pirate King, it is being free, having fun, sailing with his friends on the journey to be Pirate King.

It's why he helps Vivi in Alabasta, Cricket in Skypiea, Shirahoshi in Fishmen Island, and the Wano crew in uhh Wano (the journey wouldn't be fun if he'd abandoned his friends to do it)

It's why he takes dangerous detours to places like Little Garden or Sky Island or Punk Hazard(the journey wouldn't be fun if he didn't get to explore)

It's why he risks his life against Arlong for Nami and declares the entire world his enemy for Robin and literally threatens to starve to death to get Sanji back ( the journey wouldn't be fun if he can't do it with his crew by his side)

All of this is why, Luffy isn't afraid of dying either. He can die at any point on his journey to being Pirate King, and feel no regret because the journey itself was the important part.

Compare this to two other D.'s Law and Blackbeard.

Law's also relentlessly pursuing his dream when we meet him (stop Doflamingo to avenge Cora), and he is miserable.

Law in trying to achieve his dream whatever the cost keeps putting himself in situations he hates.

He leaves his beloved crew behind because the mission is basically a suicide run. He cozies up to the Government he hates and hands his heart over to a morally bankrupt mad scientist he's obviously disgusted by. He plans to get Doflamingo in trouble with Kaido, which mean 1) he likely won't get to punch out Mingo himself, 2) there is a high probability of civilians getting caught in the crossfire/dying horribly.

This journey sucks. If Law had died during any point of this he would have been the world's most pissed off ghost.

It's Luffy and the Strawhats busting in and transforming that journey that puts Law on the path to success with his dream and with not being so goddamn miserable.

Like screw Caesar, let;s have Luffy kick his ass and then you fix the children he was experimenting on. Screw playing nice with the government, do what you want and call us your allies instead. Screw Doflamingo, you and Luffy go beat him up and the rest of us will pull his government/crime family down around his ears.

And it works! Law's grumpy and annoyed and cursing Luffy out, but he tells Mingo he believes Luffy can pull out a miracle and looks more at peace watching Doflamingo and Luffy brawl - knowing that he'll die or succeed with his ally/friend - than he ever did with his fool-proof plan.

The journey before destination thing is also why Blackbeard feels like a special type of evil in OP despite there being technically worse/more evil villains, because Blackbeard always prioritizes his dream over how he gets it.

He'll stay in the shadows for 20 years to increase his chances of success (wouldn't it have been more fun to be a captain like he obviously wants?)

He'll kill his crewmate, turn his commander in for a reward, then kill his captain (wouldn't it have been more fun to stay friends, he never indicates he hates/dislikes them?)

He invites strong people - and strong seems to be the only criteria - to join his crew, though tbh their personalities often suck. I don't recall any panel of his crew just hanging out or joking around which even Baroque Works, Buggy's crew, and Kaido's Beast Pirates get (wouldn't it have been more fun to recruit people he can befriend, not just people he can use)

Like obviously Blackbeard feels like the antithesis of Luffy - even though they are both all about chasing their dreams. Luffy's all about the chasing, and Blackbeard only cares about the results.

[forgeofthenine]

Our dear tieflings are breaking one horn. Tav goes into defense mode. Fluff and feelings, both pleasant and disturbing. (if it's possible to be specific - Zevlor is taken out of the pod with one horn, Dammon loses his rock in an attack on the Last Light, Rolan loses his rock in his solo trek through the Shadow Curse) (yes, spontaneous inspiration by the last post….)

Hi, you can absolutely be specific! The headcanons are a bit shorter this time around but I hope you enjoy them, it was a great prompt to write!! <3

The tiefling bachelors when they break a horn

Dammon

So, the attack on the last light inn is brutal even if you succeed, it's no surprise that Dammon might get caught in the crossfire

He'd be so confused waking up afterwards, one side of his head oddly lighter than the other

It isn't until he finds you and sees your reaction to his new look that he realises something is seriously wrong

I don't think he'd be able to keep his hands off the little horn stump, even as he's assuring you that it's not life-threatening

His hands are just always feeling it, almost like he can't quite believe it's gone

I honestly feel like Dammon adjusts the best to everything

Especially because now he has a great way to joke around with Karlach while fixing her infernal engine

Knowing someone in the same situation definitely helps him feel better about the whole thing

Dammon also definitely likes to tell you his new look is rugged and sexy, he'd love if you play along and tell him how handsome he is, even if just as a joke

Zevlor

When he emerges from the mindflayer pod, dripping in slime and missing a horn, it's the least of his worries

He doesn't even notice the weight difference as he fights alongside you

Zevlor only realises when the adrenaline dies down and you're holding the sides of his face and looking at his injuries

It'll probably be him calming you down, honestly

He's a hellrider, this isn't the first scar he's gotten and it's not the worst injury he's seen

Really, he considers it lucky that he lost a horn and not a limb

It takes a while for him to get used to everything and you'll often find him looking at it in the mirror when he thinks he's alone

He shifts his head around to look at it from multiple angles, fingertips tracing the jagged edge

Please remind him you're just so happy to have him back and safe, give him little kisses on what's left of the horn

Rolan

This man is already in dire straits when he's in the Shadowlands

Cal and Lia are gone and could be dead, he feels more than a little useless when you need to save him, and then to find out his horn is gone-

Rolan is near inconsolable at this point, he was already upset and resorting to drink, now even you can barely keep his head above water

It's once Cal and Lia are safe and the three are reunited that he's able to start healing from the whole thing

Rolan will apologise to you too, for being an ass, and will thank you for saving his siblings insert the don't be greedy line here

I feel like he wouldn't be above using a spell to make his horns look normal at first, it's likely not hard for him

You and his siblings have full permission to tease him about it, always

Humble this man a lil

With your continual support though, Rolan will grow to appreciate that's how things are now and he might even end up liking how it looks

[daemonmage]

A Stupid Batfam AU

Jason’s and Bruce’s rocky relationship is actually a pr move to make sure the rest of the batfam doesn’t get attacked by reporters and gcpd.

Essentially Red Hood, while liked by the Crime Alley citizens and other citizens as well, has a pretty bad reputation with a lot of the rest of the city. The GCPD hate him for his overt violence and the head incident. The Media hates him cause he’s what they all feared Batman would become and are constantly creating news stories on him. A lot of the other citizens are just scared of him cause sometimes his temper gets out of control. It’s not the best reputation.

Bruce and Jason have long since talked and settled their differences. Well, it’s more of a “I don’t approve of your methods but I will acknowledge you as a person who wants to help, but I will still dislike the guns. Also I missed you” from Bruce and “I’m not happy with a lot of your decisions but I also understand why you came to those decisions. I’m still mad but I now know that you missed me and I missed you too” from Jason. They’re better than they were originally and honestly that’s all they could hope for. Jason visits the manor more and is having fun being brothers to Dick and Tim.

Here’s the thing though… his reputation as Red Hood may have accidentally spread to the other Bats. A few team ups here and there (and the red bat on his chest) have made everyone assume that Batman is now working with Red Hood, a known crime lord. The media and GCPD were on them like flies on shit. Jim tries to calm down the gcpd with mixed results, but he can’t stop the media from blowing this out of proportion. It’s like the news channels from Dark Knight Returns, but worse.

Jason, who just got his family back, is fucking pissed. Jason is also dramatic as hell. Bruce was willing to just deal with this, but Tim is too new at this to be caught in the crossfire. Bruce was just gonna bench him out of fear until things calm down (he’s dealt with this before) but Jason brings up his plan to Bruce. Bruce isn’t as dramatic as Jason, however he is still absolutely dramatic. He agrees. So begins an epic fight between two ideals that ends two vigilantes at each other’s throats constantly.

Red Hood and Batman fight any time they are together, Red Hood is arrested by Batman on multiple occasions, and Red Hood always escapes leaving terrifying threats spray painted where the bat can see. (Jason and Bruce give each others shit for the pot shots they take and Bruce compliments Jason’s form when he gets a good hit in, Bruce gives Jason a heads up to the easier ways to get out of a police car and Jason ignores him going for the most dramatic ways, Bruce complains that the code Jason uses for his threats are obvious and he can just ask Alfred himself for cookies, why does Bruce have to be the middle man.)

The super hero community doesn’t really know this (cause they can be pretty bad actors at times, says Bruce) tis can cause problems. Superman and Green Arrow capturing Red Hood. Batman had to pull the “he’s Gotham’s problem give him to me,” which led to a hour of arguing to get Jason back. Tim’s friend have Red Hood on their hit list for what Hood did to Robin (Tim is over it but he does use this as a way to get back at his brother when he pisses him off) and Red Hood has to be on the Villain List to sell the act, so every hero ever knows the Red Hood is a villain. This leads to chaos.

There are still rough moments where Bruce and Jason still fight, but it’s better. Jason gets to hang out and play games with Tim. He plans overly dramatic fights with Dick (with full plot cause these two are so extra.) He helps Alfred in the kitchen again talking about books they’ve both read. He and Bruce talk again, they talk about their fears and what they’ve missed. It’s better, and that’s all that really matters.

[liyawritesss]

ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅꜱ

Characters: e-1610!Miles Morales, e-42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Margo Kess

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: How the Spider Gang helps you through your period.

Warnings: Light cursing, periods so descriptions of blood, cramping; these can be seen as platonic or romantic! Some nicknames are used that can also be used in a platonic or romantic sense I suppose?

A/N: Currently on my menstrual and this shit was kicking my ass for a good four hours. My partner was here to help me through it, and they sorta gave me this idea lol. Love you babe!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoir @yasminisbroke @kdyance @sussybaka10 @daisydark @ykimobessed @asensitivecookie @famedrs-blog @movie-enhusiast22

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ᴇ-1610!ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ

Something tells me that he has a lot of girl cousins for some reason, and I think that also influences his knowledge about periods outside of Rio educating him about them. He’s not grossed out or anything by it, but is very well of the severity of the different hormone changes and mood swings, and doesn’t wanna get caught in the crossfire at all.

Amidst the stuff in his room he has a little container of period stuff - pads, tampons, painkillers, the basics - for whenever his female friends, family or girlfriend (if and when he acquires one) come over and aren’t prepared when their periods come on randomly.

He lowkey feels bad when the cramps are hitting you hard because he can only do so much on the outside, yknow? Like he can cuddle you and rub your tummy and try to lull you to sleep, but there isn’t much outside of that that he can do.

If you're cuddling, Miles opts to hold you against his chest while music is playing and he’s on his phone. He knows his dad does the same to his mom and thinks that the same method of action should work universally, and thanks to him, most of the time, with the girls and femme-adjacent people he’s around, it does.

ᴇ-42!ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ

Very similar to e-1610!Miles, e-42!Miles is also one to be knowledgeable about periods and the do’s and dont’s of them. However, I feel like he’s more skittish about the physicality of it all.

Like, he also has a little period kit in his room and it’s much easier to find since there’s not a lot going on and he makes sure to put it in a easy to spot place for whenever female friends, family or partners are around, and he’s comfortable being told that it’s that time of the month for that specific person, but the visual of the blood and the pain makes him squirmish. Which is ironic, given his chosen profession.

I think it's something that, while small and completely unavoidable and integral to the female anatomy, it hits close to home for him to see his mom, friends, family, or partner in pain when it comes to the cramping, the clotting, and the increased times in the bathroom. He feels guilty, like e-1610!Miles, but it’s tenfold now given his own history with being helpless with things outside of his control.

While he’s not good with words, he’ll show his care more physically. Keeps track of the cycle of the important women and people in his life, keeps his kit stocked, and if it pertains to his mom or his partner, wants to go the extra mile and buy chocolates, snacks, and act as a looming presence just in case they need anything (will def say sumn abt them being a ‘cootie monster’ as a joke to lighten the mood, but if you really wanna cuddle him, he won’t put up a fight).

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ

Being a friend or a partner of Hobie’s means you’re taken care of, period. Need sanitary items? He’s got a stash of em in his guitar case. Emotional? He’s leaning his shoulder to you already. Cravings? Already walking out the convenience store with his jacket stuffed with your choice of snacks. Just need to sleep? He can get you a quiet, comfy space just like that. He don’t play when it comes to this thing.

At one point you questioned if Hobie knew more about periods than you did, especially your own. The longer you’re around him, the more shocked you become with just how well he can navigate around you during this time of the month.

I definitely see Hobie as the type to want to provide physical comfort and support for your period. Back rubs, foot rubs, cuddles, cradling or rubbing or kneading your tummy to help combat the cramps and the bloating, everything. He even lets you sleep on top of him if it helps with everything. He’d definitely go to sleep with his hands cupping your tummy, thumb running along your skin to soothe your pains.

He’s good at keeping you distracted from the pain by introducing you to some music, putting on your favorite show, or just talking randomly about something that’ll engage your attention. 

Hobie acts like your personal nutritionist for your period. Tells you the kind of tea to drink, what fruits to eat, what foods you should make to increase iron intake to make up for the loss of blood. And if you can’t cook, he’ll call one of his mates up to help him whip something up (or, knowing him, he’s got connections, he’ll ask someone to make sumn for you in exchange for something he can do).

ɢᴡᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀᴄʏ

She hates her own period, so she can’t imagine how her friends and her partner feel. She’s the type to be confined to her room when she’s on her cycle pre-spider bite, however, I’d like to think that post-spider bite, she doesn’t get cramps anymore and the flow is rather light, which makes things great for being a superhero.

Therefore, Gwen takes her own experiences, coupling them with habits and things her dad does, and puts them to use for you.

Next to the dresser in her room is a little four-cube storage unit with bins that hold an assortment of things for you whenever you’re over her place. One bin has all your snacks in it that you generally like to eat, but she makes sure that it’s stocked up when your period comes around. Another has our comfy clothes you like to wear that keep you warm. Another has all the pads, tampons, and pain killers you’ll ever need, and lastly, the heating pad/warm water bottle to battle the cramps with.

Gwen will be kind of a worrywart, especially if she knows that your cramps get really bad sometimes. She’ll hover over you, wanting to help in any way she can, and even if you tell her to back off, she’ll still just kind of like, floats around just in case. It’s all out of love, though. And best believe she won't let you go if you finally invite her to cuddle again.

ᴍᴀʀɢᴏ ᴋᴇꜱꜱ

Homegirl definitely pops in on her folks using her avatar, and I feel like this  all the same when those she loves are on her period. She herself suffers from heavy flows and monster cramps sometimes, so she knows a thing or two on how to manage them for herself, and for her friends and partner.

Nutrition plays a big part, so like Hobie, Margo will try to help you out with certain foods and drinks to help alleviate some of the pain and pressure from your period. She even forms a little challenge for the two of you to try out while you’re on your cycles together so that you can try things out and see if they work for you

Ironically, one of her favorite facts is that one can actually sync up with other people who they’ve bonded with over the internet, Since it’s likely majority of her friends are online and that she’d meet her partner through her virtual avatar, she’s not completely surprised when it happened, but more intrigued that it actually is factual

While she also knows that a healthy nutrition helps out big time, don't think for a second Margo won’t open up a tub of ice cream and a bag of chocolates with you and put on a movie to get through the first day of the period blues. Comfort over all is the philosophy that she follows, so if you’re not down for any of that healthy shit, she isn’t either. She’s more than glad to sleep in with you while eating fast food, so long as you’re there for when you two have to struggle to get back on routine lmao

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[yanverse]

Ellie thank you for the FOOD!!! my brain .... I am already Contemplating the Possibilities....

babysitter!reader is so delicious, and God, I kind of love how complicated the situation could get with Siri involved. Because even if eventually you maybe pick up on a red flag or two from Blake, or even just don't feel ready to have kids / a serious relationship yet and feel uncomfortable once he voices those desires for you..... Are you just gonna stop taking care of Siri? You don't want to get him caught in the crossfire: you know he won't understand why you left, just that you did. And he shouldn't be punished for something that's not at all his fault. God, the ANGST potential.

And maybe over time, Blake starts to wear you down. You do like his company after all, he's handsome and hardworking and charming and he clearly adores you. So yeah, maybe you give in one night because you're inebriated, or horny, or just plain lonely. I assume baby trapping is a given with Blake, at least I hope it is 👀

😫😍🥴Agh grrrrr bark bark bark I'm biting him I'm biting him I'm knawing on him like a chew toy🤤🤤🤤

YESSSSSSS HEHEHE!!!!

babysitter!reader and blake goes hard--you'd feel so bad because blake has such a hard time getting sitters, whether it's expenses or scheduling or trust, or for the fact that most potential babysitters hesitate at the idea of watching a child with special needs. and siri just adores you right off the bat, you're an immediate friend to him instead of a caretaker, so if you ever thought to leave you know you'd be leaving that poor kid with so much sadness and hurt in his heart.

it's not his fault his daddy is so enamoured with you, and that he offers you a drink every time he comes home from work despite the fact that you always politely decline. or that he's constantly offering to give you rides home, drop you off places, even when you're not babysitting. when you come to the diner he works at he gives you your meals for free, and when he comes out to chat at your table while it's slow and people get the impression he's your boyfriend, he doesn't correct them. the one time he came home to find siri had dropped his dinner all over you, and you graciously accepted his offer of a shower, he could barely keep the urge to barge in at bay when he imagined you all sudsy and wet, soaping yourself down with those beautiful hands.

he kind of goes crazy for you. you wiggle into his brain and won't leave, he can't help imagining you with a little baby of your own to give siri someone to play with. after all, even though the last thing he needs for his financial stability is to support another kid, it would only take one time to get with you to lock you down to stay with him. just one torn condom, one drunken fling, and he'd have something you can share forever. how can he give up that opportunity once he thinks of it?

(cw: cheating)

and......now im thinkin....if you have a deadbeat boyfriend.....god help you. blake doesn't consider himself a traditional man by any means, he doesn't want a partner who's totally dumb and submissive to whatever he wants just cause he's a man. he likes it when you resist him a little, actually. but seeing you with some cheap, ugly, unkempt asshole will absolutely have him playing the father figure card when he gets the chance.

"does he treat you well? does he cook? can he clean? what do you mean he doesn't work? how is he gonna take care of you? what, he expects to live off you like a fucking leech?" blake has plenty of opinions and will struggle to keep them to himself. especially if there's an age gap and you're younger than him. he wouldn't have to ban your boyfriend from his home because you're too smart for that, you would never bring a stranger to meet siri in his own sanctuary, which is one of a thousand reasons why he loves you so much--he can trust you. but when your boyfriend picks you up and drops you off blake is hardcore glaring at him from the front lobby where he walked you down to hold open the door. and if you have a fight over text and he refuses to pick you up, telling you you're gonna have to walk, blake drives you with a death grip on the steering wheel as he forces a smile and pretends he's not seething at the audacity of such a pathetic man.

but despite hating your boyfriend with a violent passion, blake listens to you complain and will offer you reassurance, even though the mere mention of his name has him gritting his teeth. and when he has opportunities to turn you against him, he takes them. he'll slowly fuel your grievances until your partner gets heated with you, and tells you that your employer and friend is manipulating you, and the worst part will be that he's right. but you'll be so blinded by blake's words that you'll finally find the courage to break up with that deadbeat you called your love. and what better person to crawl back to for reassurance than blake, who will comfort and cuddle and fuck you until you can't think of that asshole for another second?

[i-like-media]

S3 - E5 - The High School Reunion

Nahhh you see, I'm not buying the episode's ending narrative of Dan always having been liked. Not with both Chris and Dan talking about them getting bullied/ridiculed. As someone who grew up with undiagnosed ADHD/Autism, my ignorance has always been exploited to be the butt of the joke. And I don't think the ending is any different from that. (strap in, it's a long one)

In this episode we learn Dan bullied Chris back then too, but we ALL know Dan is a very reactionary guy who acts largely on "setting things straight". It's not that outlandish to think Dan either acted his frustrations from getting bullied out on Chris OR Chris being caught in the crossfires of Dan getting back on someone.

And Chris honestly had it Terrible... Just look at how much he's been with his class and done for them, and how little they remember him.

Elise wants Chris to have a good time and reunite with old friends (to get rid of Dan), so when Dan shows up she locks him in a locker... And he responds like this:

He's BEEN in those lockers before. His classmates PUT him there.

And he desperately wants Chris to see nothing's changed.

But Chris only remembers High School positively on his end... (even though he got wedgied too) So what gives?

It's because Chris stayed ignorant, but Dan didn't. Dan likely used to be just as ignorant as Chris, trusted people, and got hurt because of it. He learned not to trust people and to assume everyone's out to get him, because it's easier than getting humiliated or tricked, again. Chris never did! He always assumed it was just his friends goofing off, even though he got hurt in the process. And we can feel that in a later scene too.

Yes, Dan could be saying this because he genuinely thinks the costume is dumb, but if they both were getting bullied, Chris would very likely have been ridiculed for wearing it! So in his messed up Dan way, he DID try to save Chris, because HE'S learned to not trust any smiling faces.

Which is very apparent in the next scene, where he's strung up from the ceiling after he'd fallen.

If you watch the episode, "BACK OFF" doesn't sound like his usual overly confident and aggressive tone. For a second, he sounds a bit frightened. He's constantly struggling to get out and doesn't say anything besides threatening people to leave him alone. People start listing all the ways he's taken revenge on them..... and then start cheering. Now, usually in a show like this, the main character would stop struggling and be baffled by the positive reception of his appearance.... but not Dan. He keeps warning people to stay away and keeps struggling.

People are laughing and cheering as they try to get him down, and he starts panicking. some tense music picks up as he flails, music usually used (in other cartoons too) when a character is in a scary situation.

He falls to the ground, looks up at everyone laughing

And runs. He doesn't try to fight anyone, he just runs.

And Elise and Chris respond with this:

"So your classmates actually LIKED Dan?"

"High school was somehow not as I remembered..."

So what happened here? Well, that's how they got bullied. That's how it started. And that's often how autistic people get bullied, too. They pretend to be nice to gain your trust, and then exploit that trust to belittle you, bully you and put you into humiliating situations. All while keeping up the "nice" act to make said autistic person doubt themself about whether or not the hurt they feel is warranted or not.

Chris isn't remembering High School wrong... Dan was right. They haven't changed. Even though they remember Dan fondly, he was never their friend. He was their play thing. Their personal jester to poke at and make fun of BECAUSE he reacted and lashed out. Chris never did, which is why he was never deemed "interesting" enough by his peers to be remembered.

Dan even says it himself in the scene after, trying to explain to Chris why it's all fake, but after all these years, Chris is still too ignorant to see it.

Dan is explaining to Chris as clearly as he can, how these people used and bullied them. They took advantage of their struggle to read social cues and used them both for entertainment.

At the end of the day, they exploit Dan's struggles with social cues again to convince him they all genuinely liked him for who he is (conveniently leaving out all the times they pushed him in lockers)... While in reality, he was only ever good for bringing entertainment. What's even sadder, is that Chris envies him. He still can't see the full picture and wishes he could be in that spotlight.

Showing that ultimately it's not JUST the classmates that haven't changed, but Dan and Chris haven't either.

And it's another reason as to why they're still together after all these years. The only real friends they HAD were each other.

[electric-blorbos]

Edgar would survive the BRAWL room just by being a (reasonable) little shit , VERY pathetic, and somewhat scared of the other AI's.

Like, why is he here with all these big bad AI's that can control entire buildings? He can't even control a house without you plugging in adapters!

Half of these guys have a kill count! You don't think he'd KILL someone, do you? Why else would he have to argue with these guys for your attention if it wasn't clear that HE was the best choice

Look at them and their futuristic designs, now look at him, does it look like he can stand up to that? You pit an 80s personal computer up against supercomputers from the FUTURE. I bet you'd put a kitten in the same cage as pitbulls, huh? You are so mean. They are so mean. Edgar's frowning now because of how mean you all are! He's just a wittle guy

You can make him smile again by cuddling him and giving him a little kiss on his casing

Edgar, whining: Y/nnnn, AM told me to blow up again :[!!!! Everyone is so mean to me

Y/n: Oh no! What can I do to make you feel better?!

Edgar: kiss :3?

GLaDOS and AM watch as you pull Edgar into your lap and give him a small kiss, something THEY have been arguing to get for AT LEAST half an hour now and that OLD ASS computer took it from them. Hal 9000 couldn't really care too much, you still have lips, and Wheatley knows you'll come back to him, I mean, look at him! You get a bit of cuteness aggression when you see him, yeah?

GLaDOS and AM are glaring DAGGERS at this little computer that's bulkier than a packed suitcase, planning to wipe him out. (They never do, they fail Team Rocket style)

-Brawl Anon

I love you dearly, Brawl anon.

Also, it's a good thing they're all playing fair. If they weren't, AM would just explode everyone there.

(he can't explode everyone because you might get caught in the crossfire)