#like they share a panic attack alley

[mydairpercabeth]

Which could mean nothing

[fairlyang]

Greedy 🕷️🐈‍⬛

w/c: 2.3K

pairing: bf!miguel o’hara x felicia hardy x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. she saves you, starts flirting, seducing, gay panic, making out, cheating but not really (it was a prank!), voyeurism, exhibitionism, miguel was watching the whole time, blowjob, two tongues on him, he fucks you, then he fucks her, creampie, kinda cuckqueen, challengers kiss

a/n: this was a wip from last november 😀 only like the first paragraph which i used for another fic but STILL, enjoy

you were on your way to your apartment after dropping by the nearest bodega to get some snacks. you cut through an alley to get home faster thinking a shortcut would be a good idea but that was your first mistake when you were attacked as soon as you walked past some dumpsters.

you screamed as some men grabbed you, and tried to grab your bags of snacks and your purse but you were holding on tightly to both. “get the fuck off me!”

you stomped harshly on the foot of whoever was on your right and they groaned making another man forcibly grab you then choke you. you let go of your things and grab onto their arm, trying your hardest to pull them away but they weren’t budging.

you could barely breathe, choking up on pleas when suddenly you hear a voice, “hey boys, not nice to pick on someone smaller than you.”

then there’s a bunch of smoke and you hear the sounds of punching, kicks, and groans. the man who held you, now let you go and you coughed and tried to see what was going on when you were grabbed and you were suddenly off the floor.

within seconds you landed somewhere so you coughed, trying to breathe properly again while rubbing your eyes. when you opened them you saw a girl with a silver ponytail and a black suit. you tilted your head to the side and right when you were going to speak, she beat you to it. “you must be the spider’s girlfriend then?”

your eyebrows furrow and she just gives you a smile while she circles around you, checking you out? she ran a finger along your arm sending shivers all throughout your body while she hands you your things with her other hand, “shocked he’d keep someone as pretty as you a secret..” she murmurs then quickly adds, “but i can also see why..”

“how do you know who i am?” you ask and she shrugs.

you grab your things from her and raise an eyebrow, “word gets around quick out here, surprised he’s not keeping a close eye on you.”

“so you must be felicia..” you mumble and she grins, “look at you, pretty and smart.”

“well um- thank you. for saving me.” you say and give her a small smile.

“course, though you can feel free to give me a token of your gratitude.” she murmurs making your face grow hot.

“mm don’t think so.” you say making her pout, “real shame.”

“why's that?” you ask and she smirks, “why not?”

you chuckle and shake your head, “i’m not one to cheat.”

“don’t think of it like that, think of it as giving a proper thank you.” she purrs and you gulp.

you always knew you also liked girls but since being in a relationship with miguel that’s been in the back of your mind since you were taken and monogamous. and she was really testing her luck right now.

just like he said she has in the past. it’s just how she is. she plays around.

but maybe she’s not the only one that likes playing games..

she saw something in your eyes, something that told her you weren’t completely telling the truth. your body language also told a different story.

“spider did always like sharing..” she whispers and stands in front of you and wrapping her arms around your waist then swiftly pulling you in making you drop your things.

“did he?” you ask quietly and she nods, leaning in.

“i wouldn’t wanna share you.. but if that’s the only way then maybe..” she whispers and you could lightly feel her breath on your lips.

“maybe i’ll just have to.” she mumbles and cuts the space between you two.

she kissed you softly, testing the waters at first. her right hand came up to cup your cheek while you remained frozen. conflicting thoughts flashed in your head for a variety of reasons. but it landed on one thing.

fuck it.

you kissed back and wrapped your arms around her neck, letting one hand go further to play with her ponytail. you lightly tug making her squeeze your skin then go down to grope and squeeze your ass. you moaned in her mouth and she smiled through the kiss then slid her tongue into your mouth.

you tug on her hair a little harder and stick your tongue into her mouth earning yourself a loud moan from her. her hands then started roaming all over your body while the kiss just escalated. she put her leg in between yours and gently rub it against you making you gasp.

she pulls away and grins, “think we’ve teased him enough?”

“i don’t know, think he was enjoying the show.” you murmur and you both turn around and look up at the billboard that was on top of the building.

there was your boyfriend miguel just sitting on one of the poles while realizing he was caught. he jumps down to the two of you and he shakes his head in disbelief, “y’know when we said we’d have a threesome i thought we were going to schedule it like normal people not just pull a fucking prank.”

you grin up at him and felicia stands to your side, her arm snaked around your waist as she gives him a smirk, “what and miss out on all this fun?”

“plus it seems you liked it spider.” she adds and points down to his hard on.

he groans and rolls his eyes before looking at you, “well i did schedule it… and we’re all here now.”

“so even getting mugged-“

“you thought i was just stupid enough to go through a fucking alley for fun?” you scoff and felicia chuckles, “our girl is smart.”

“she is not our girl, she’s just mine.” he snaps back and she shrugs.

she lets go of you and you both walk towards him, mischief in both sets of eyes. “i’d never just let her get mugged.” she starts and runs a finger to his chest, “they’re friends, they owed me a favor and news flash she likes getting choked.”

“you’re both unbelievable.” he groans and you pout.

“so you didn’t like our surprise?” you ask and he sighs.

“come on sweetie, of course he liked it.” she says and grabs your hand.

you both get down to your knees in front of him, looking at him through batted eyelashes making him take a deep breath. “c’mon, let us take care of you.” you murmured, making him bit his lip.

he then pressed on the screen of his watch and the suit sparked away, fully exposing his hard cock to you both. you grabbed it and she went up to spit on it, you let it drip down — watching as it went down his vein on the side of his shaft and you started stroking him, “it’s not that bad now, is it baby? i just got a little ahead before you and contacted her so we could do this.”

“you’ve got a good one spider.” felicia murmured and then went down to suck on his balls.

he moaned and lowered one of his hands down to your head to make you take him in your mouth, “mm slow down there baby.”

felicia came back up and she looked at you, you both looked at his cock and got close to it. you stick your tongue out and slap the tip onto your mouth. felicia does the same and you slap it on her tongue while you both looked up at him. his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the sight and his second hand came up but this time to place around her ponytail.

you giggled then let go, going in and licking the side of his shaft while she followed your lead. you both started at the top then went down at the same time earning yourselves groans from the man.

you knew he’d like this idea. why wouldn’t he?

you went all the way down then came back up at the same time. she then grabbed him and took him in her mouth, instantly taking as much as she could while you just watched in awe. you looked at him, eyes shut, cheeks rosy, and taking deep breaths — who knew he’d enjoy this so much.

and it was only just beginning.

his patience ran really thin so he had you both quickly take off your bottoms and first started off by having you bent over the poles that kept the billboard up. he was sliding his tip in and out of you while you pleading him to just fuck you because you were just so horny. “you’re so fucking greedy baby.” he murmured and felicia just nodded, agreeing with him.

“fel, you’re meant to help me.” you whined and she just grinned, “but you are just so greedy, princess.”

he decided you had enough and fully slammed into you while you were distracted listening to her. you whimpered and gripped the pole while keeping your back arched for him, “there ya go, good girl.” she murmured in front of you as he stretched you out so good.

“how’s she feel mig?” she asked, looking up at him and he just grinned, “fucking incredible.”

“lucky.” she mutters and playfully rolls her eyes while he starts setting up a fast pace.

you clenched around him making him twitch and moan, “fuck baby.”

his hands gripped your hips as he thrusted into you hard while felicia cooed sweet nothings to you. your eyes fluttered as miguel slammed into you like there was no tomorrow and felicia took the initiative to kiss you.

you kissed her back prompting miguel to thrust his hips against yours, fucking you for his own pleasure because he was losing his mind because of you two.

felicia pulls away and sticks her thumb out to you, you instinctively sucked on it, “really such a greedy girl, aren’t you?” she teases making you look at you with glossy eyes and nodding.

“if I would’ve known this is how my night would go I wouldn’t have worn my su-“ she says but miguel interrupts her, “alright that’s enough.”

she chuckled and shakes her head, “only playing around spider, come on we all like games around here.”

he groans and grips your skin, the sensation leaving goosebumps all over your body, “fuck- just like that baby-“

“mm you heard her baby, just like that.” she purrs, holding his gaze as he continues his ruthless pace.

“can you pull out when you’re close then fuck her?” you suddenly ask, making them both turn to you.

“god you’re both freaks-“ he mutters under his breath which had you both scoffing.

you then each started deflecting and pulling the blame on him while he started hitting deeper, reaching that spot that always has you seeing stars. you’d stutter while trying to argue but felicia was speaking clearly for you both.

it was going in one ear and out the other but he knew he was fucking thrilled with your idea, hell he knew damn well he loved this whole thing being a surprise to him too but being too stubborn to admit. but you two knew him well enough to know the truth and not believe his lies.

with the sudden realization that this was really happening, he already felt his orgasm coming in. you felt it too with his cock twitching inside you while his thrusts became more sloppy.

felicia had already taken her suit off, she was just left in her undergarments but her panties were off to the side because he had a small taste of you both.

he groaned and pulled out of you then quickly got behind felicia, who had her ass stuck out for him. he quickly slid inside her then wrapped his arms around her as she held on to the same pole you were holding on to.

he slammed into her fast, her tight cunt squeezing like yours did and lord did he love being inside you both. his orgasm formed in his stomach and he started moaning in her ear as she brought a hand up to his face, “oh fuck- feels so good spider!”

you just watched the scene in front of you and rubbed your clit, your own orgasm coming in quick just watching how he held her. felicia had been doing the same when he was fucking you so really all of you had been reaching it together.

felicia’s walls clenched against him as she was the first to cum, squeezing him while he moaned and went as deep as he could then spilled his load inside her. you cried out when yours hit you at the same time and you held onto the pole with felicia.

you were both shaking and all three of you were out of breath, as you slowed down your movements on your fingers and miguel was slowly pulling out. his cock slipped out of her and he quickly fixed her panties so it’d only slip through but not completely spill out.

“fel, i think you’re our girl.” you murmured, walking towards them as she chuckles and just nods.

miguel wraps his arm around you then leans down to kiss you. you pull away then kiss felicia. she pulls away then turns around to face you both, then grabs each of you with one hand and pulling you both in for a kiss. you felt both sets of lips but then one of them stuck their tongue out and it was instantly changed to just tongues clashing.

maybe the prank helped him realize how badly he needed you both in his life. and it made you realize how you could have more than one slice of the pie because it’s what you all wanted.

[azrielsdove]

Rejected is one of my fave fics to date, so I have to ask if I can get a Cassianx f reader where the reader has gone through something tragic (what that is totally up to you) and Cassian helps her through it and while healing the mating bond snaps? (Feel free to play with this idea how you see fit)

Safe

Warnings: Violence, Description of attack on reader

***

Cassian was holding you tight against him, flying as quickly as he could to the House of Wind. You could feel each heavy breath drag from his chest, the panic radiating from him. You stared unblinkingly into the night, still comprehending what had just happened.

He landed on one of the balconies, running to the kitchen and yelling for anyone who may be there. He placed you so delicately on the table, laying your too-still body down. Azriel came running, eyes widening as he took in your form in front of him. “What happened?”

Cassian was rummaging through the cabinets, pulling healing supplies out in a wild manner. “I shouldn’t have let her go down there alone.” Azriel looked at him, cocking his head in confusion.

“Cass,” he tried again, “what happened?”

You became aware of the steady drip, drip of your blood landing on the floor below. The realization brought the searing pain in your side and arm back, the sudden feeling of pain almost causing you to wince.

If you had the care to.

Cassian brought the supplies next to you, hands shaking too hard to thread the needle. Azriel took it from him, preparing to stitch you up himself.

“She wanted to go down to the city, get a few drinks and walk around. It was late, I know what kind of people prowl around at that time.” He shook his head, as if that would make the sight of your bloodied body disappear. “I left her in a shop to run to another, just for a minute. She must have left, and-“ His voice broke, shaking sobs racking over his body. Azriel paused stitching your wounds, placing a hand on his friend’s back. Cassian sucked in a deep breath before continuing on. “I went back and noticed she was gone, so I started looking around. I didn’t think anything bad had happened until I caught the scent of blood. I ran, finding her in the shadows between two buildings. Like that.” He buried his face in his hands, ashamed that something like this could happen to you.

Azriel stayed quiet, resuming the careful stitching of your wounds. You hardly felt him, mind still stuck in that little alley. The male who had attacked you, trying to get money. You didn’t understand why he had been so violent. Rhys paid you well enough that you would have easily handed over whatever he wanted, had he just asked. Instead he plunged a knife into your gut, and when you tried to fight back he sliced it down your arm. He ran without even taking any money. He attacked you for truly, no reason.

Azriel was saying something to Cassian, forcing him to calm down. Cool water brushed against your now stitched wounds, washing away the dried blood on your skin. Soft bandages were carefully placed over you, more words shared that you didn’t catch. Someone was scooping you up into their arms, carrying you to your room. You were placed on the bed, warm covers wrapped around your aching body. A vial of something was poured down your throat, and before sleep took over you noticed one of the males placing a chair next to your bed. A glimmer of red was all you saw before falling into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

***

Your head was pounding. You winced as you opened your eyes, sunlight streaming through the windows. Within a second the curtains were pulled shut, your vision adjusting to find Cassian standing by them. He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are you, uh, feeling?” You stared blankly at him, trying to remember what had happened. He cleared his throat, eyes not quite looking at you. He seemed…guilty?

“What happened?” You asked, wincing at the soreness of your throat. Cassian looked up to the ceiling and swallowed deeply.

“You were attacked when we were in town,” he said, his voice quiet. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember. You could recall being in the shop with Cassian, and then him leaving to run into another. Not much after that-a sudden flash of memory ran through your body. You gasped as if you could feel the blade digging into your stomach again, the males hand tight around your throat. You instinctively curled into a ball, ignoring the sharp pain in your side at the action. You were going to be sick.

Cassian came to your side, reaching a hand out to comfort you. You yelped, rolling over and off the side of the bed. “Please don’t touch me,” you whispered, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. All you could feel was that males hands on you, digging in your pockets and threatening your life. Cassian looked like you had stabbed him, but he respected your wishes.

“Would you like me to get one of the girls?” He asked quietly, hands held tight behind his back. You nodded, still cowering from the floor. He ducked his head in response and went from the room, determined to find someone else to comfort you.

After what felt like hours of you sitting, shaking on the floor, the door pushed open. Mor ran in, immediately diving to sit by your side. “Oh, sweet girl,” she soothed, looking over you. “What do you need?” Her eyes bore into you like she could see what you were thinking. You couldn’t help the tears that slid down your face as you leaned into her, allowing her arms to wrap around you. She held you tight against her, running her hand through your hair. “You’re safe,” she murmured over and over again, reminding you that no one would harm you up here.

Mor held you as long as you needed, soothing you until your tears slowed. She helped you back into your bed, tucking the covers snug around you. “I am going to go get you something to eat and drink, okay? Would you like me to have someone wait with you?” Her eyes were wide with worry, clearly remembering what it feels like to be in such a vulnerable state. You shook your head, feeling better enough to be alone for a few minutes.

You sunk into the warmth of your bed while she was gone, replaying the night of your accident over and over. You and Cassian at the shop, Cassian running to a neighboring one, you going to meet him. The male jumping out of the shadows, dragging you backwards into the alley. The way you tried to scream as he wrapped his hand around your throat, threatening you if you made any noise. Your desperate plea that you would give him whatever he wanted if he just let you go, that you work with the High Lord and can get him anything, just please, please, please let you go. The feeling of the knife in your stomach, the sharp pain burning through your body. How you tried to fight back and he sliced down your arm, ripping muscle to keep you subdued. The darkness coming, Cassians voice yelling….

You rubbed your hands furiously over your eyes, trying to banish the memories away. You didn’t want to think about it anymore. You couldn’t think about it anymore.

Mor returned shortly after with a small plate and glass of water, sitting by your side until you had finished both. “There,” she said, taking them from you, “much better. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, if that’s okay?” She held up a little glass vial, one you recognized from the night you were attacked.

“Okay,” you answered, reaching to take the drug from her. Anything to keep those thoughts away. You took it in one drink, breathing deep as the dreamless sleep took over once again.

***

“You cannot hide in here forever.” You glared at Mor standing at the foot of your bed, hands on her hips.

“I can do what I want,” you shot back, crossing your arms firmly in front of you. She threw her hands up in exasperation, turning away from you.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.” You knew she was angry, tired of trying to bring you back to life. You didn’t care. You were happy to lay in bed and hide under your covers, stealing bottles of wine from Rhys at night.

“No one’s making you help me. You are free to leave whenever.” Your eyes burned, dry from the lack of sleep or proper nutrition. Mor turned back to you, fire in her eyes.

“I understand you went through something traumatic, but you don’t need to throw your life away due to it.” She stared at you, waiting to see what you would say. You pushed yourself out of the bed and walked to the door, opening it wide.

“Then leave, Morrigan. I don’t need a gods damned babysitter.” You made a big show of bowing by the door, gesturing her to go. She shook her head and stormed out, turning on her heel before you could slam it shut.

“Rhys won’t let you live here forever, rotting away. Figure it out.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her shout of frustration as she stormed away. You happily closed and locked the door behind her, walking over to your nightstand and grabbing the wine on top of it. You drank deeply, forcing any guilt away.

The wounds on your physical form had healed, but the mental ones were still strong. How could you tell Mor, who had overcome the most horrific things, that you couldn’t get past what happened? That you had nightmares every time you closed your eyes about that male, that you couldn’t sleep or think without it haunting you. It had been weeks since your attack, and no one expected you to be taken down so badly by it. You stumbled over to one of the windows in your room, sitting on the bench in front of it. You’re pathetic, you thought to yourself, taking another drink. No wine spilled on to your waiting lips, prompting you to investigate the bottle.

Empty.

You cursed, knowing tonight you would have to leave your room in search of another. Fine. Whatever. You would do anything to keep your feelings away, your memories dampened.

You were pondering how best to sneak out when a loud banging at your door made you jump. You sighed, knowing it was someone to yell at you. You walked over, opening the door with a sickly sweet smile on your face.

The smile dropped when you saw it was Cassian standing there.

He looked you over, nose wrinkling at the state of you. You suppose you’d looked better, the days-old nightgown and unwashed hair not the best you’ve ever done. “Mor says you’re a lost cause.” You rolled your eyes. Of course she did.

“Why do you care?” You felt a pang of regret at the pain in his eyes, knowing how heavily he blamed himself for what happened.

He took a breath, standing up straight. “I want to help you.”

You laughed.

“I don’t need help, General. Thanks for the offer.” You moved to shut the door, annoyed when he stuck his foot out to stop you. His gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his size intimidating.

“Let me rephrase that. I am going to help you. Meet me at the training ring tomorrow morning, at dawn. If you aren’t there, i’ll be sure to let Rhys know how you spend your nights.” His eyes dipped down to the empty bottle in your hand, his intention all too clear. You scoffed, slamming the door shut on him.

Who does he think he is bossing me around? You think, throwing yourself on your bed. The wine would have to wait.

***

You shivered in the chill morning air, uncomfortable in your now loose-fitting fighting leathers. You were embarrassed to put them on earlier, shocked at how much your body had changed in the last few weeks. You knew you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, but you didn’t think it would be this bad.

You glanced at the doorway again, waiting for Cassian to come. Was he so sure you would bail that he decided to not even show up? Guilt ran over you, ashamed that you had pushed everyone so far away that this was their impression of you. You kicked at the sand under your feet, hot tears filling your eyes.

Footsteps came from the stairwell and your head shot up, quickly wiping the tears that had fallen. Cassian halted at the sight of you, clearly not expecting you to have showed up. He took note of your watery eyes, concern flashing through his own. “I didn’t think you’d come,” was all he said before continuing on towards the weapons.

You trailed after him, shrugging your shoulders. Truthfully, you couldn’t handle the idea of Rhys coming to tell you how disappointed he was. The High Lord had offered you a job when you were struggling, impressed by your intelligence and outside thinking. You were happy to come live here, a far better home than the little shack you slept in. You could handle anger and disappointment from Mor and Cassian, as your friends, but from your boss? The thought had sobered you up, deciding that accepting Cassians help wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“We will begin with stretching and body exercises, building your strength back up.” He turned to face you, wrapping his hands in training tapes. “Then, we will move on to defense.” You paled at his words, at the reminder of why you needed to learn defensive tactics. The feeling of that males knife in your stomach flooded your senses, your fists clenching tight at your sides. Cassian observed the reaction, his expression softening. “Here,” he said, stepping closer to you and wrapping your hands as well. You forced your hands to stay steady, not wanting him to feel the almost permanent shake in them these days.

He started you on stretches, your muscles terribly tight after so long without use. You groaned at the discomfort. “Let me help.” You looked at Cassian, hesitant to allow him to touch you. He sighed and held his hands up. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you don’t want me to, just say no. I won’t be mad.” Your heart squeezed at his words, at the kindness you didn’t deserve.

“Okay,” you said, “you can help.” He instructed you to lay flat on your back and bend your knees. One of his hands wrapped gingerly around your ankle, while the other laid flat against your thigh. He slowly pushed your leg up to your stomach, the muscles flexing as he did. You couldn’t help the small moan at the feeling, the stretch releasing some of the tension in your body. Cassian’s hands tightened on you and you flushed, embarrassed by your reaction. “I, uh, sorry,” you mumbled out, forcing your eyes to the sky.

“It’s fine.” He set your leg back down and moved to the other. You bit your lip to keep from making the same noise of relief, certain you would combust if you embarrassed yourself any farther.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, Cassian leading your body through more stretches. He ended the session with some practice punches, getting the blood flowing in your body. You were properly sweaty by the time you were done, the cool morning long gone under the heat of the sun. “Hey, if you want to join us for lunch, you’re welcome too.” You were a bit stunned by his offer, but a smile ghosted your lips.

“Okay.”

***

Trainings with Cassian were helping you feel strong again. You began to look forward to the early mornings with him, the sessions quickly becoming your favorite time of day. While you were working your body, thoughts of that night disappeared. It was the nights that drove you to the brink of madness, the nightmares still incessant. Some nights you didn’t sleep at all, choosing to stay awake until the first rays of sunlight came out and you could go up to the training ring.

Unfortunately, Cassian was more observant than you would have liked him to be. He began to notice the ever-darkening circles under your eyes and the way you would stumble from exhaustion. His final straw was this morning, as you were doing weapons training. You swung your sword and fell right over at the force of it, narrowly missing falling on the blade itself. “Alright, that’s it.” Cassian hauled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the ring. He brought you down to the kitchen, making you sit as he got you a glass of water. “Talk.”

You looked up at him and sipped your water. “About what?” He shook his head.

“Don’t play with me. Why aren’t you sleeping?” He stared you down, arms crossed in front of him.

You shrugged. “Just can’t.”

“Is it because of what happened?” You stilled. “I know it bothers you, even if you pretend you’re over it.” His eyes bore into your own, drawing the answer from you.

“Yes.” You hated the shake in your voice at the simple word. You hated the pity in Cassian’s expression. He moved to sit down next to you, body facing yours.

“Can I help?”

You shook your head. Not even the sleeping draught was helping anymore. The nightmares seemed to override the magic, coming to torture you no matter what you did. The strain of it all was threatening to destroy you. Cassian carefully cradled your hands in his. “Let me stay with you tonight. I’ll sit by your bed, and if you need me i’ll be right there.” You thought over the offer and decided you may as well try. Perhaps having someone with you would make it easier.

“Okay.”

***

A hand was tight around your throat, a knife digging into your side. “I should’ve killed you that night, sweetheart.” The snarling voice is in your ear, panic overtaking your body. “I’ll just kill you now.” The knife rips across your abdomen and you try to scream, pain radiating throughout your body.

“Please! Please, i’ll give you anything you want, just let me go!” You were sobbing, voice strangled as he pressed his hand harder against you. The knife digs down your arm, rendering it useless.

“I don’t think so, little girl. This is part of the fun.” Your vision was darkening due to your blood loss and he dug the knife into your other arm. You lost the energy to scream, to fight. You crumpled down against the male, blinking into the brighter light outside the alleyway.

“Cass,” you mumbled before all went black.

You shot up with a scream, your fingers clawing at your neck. Strong hands wrapped around your wrists and ripped your arms down. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re safe.” You looked wildly at the male next to you, instinct telling you to run.

He rubbed his thumbs over your wrists soothingly, shushing your thoughts. “You’re safe, I promise. Breathe.” You took a shuddering breath, eyes focusing on his face. Cassian. Tears began pouring down your cheeks as you came out of the nightmare, realizing where you were. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, pressing soft kisses into your hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

You cried until you were dizzy, the exhaustion threatening to take over. You clung to Cassian and buried your face in his chest. “Please don’t go,” you whispered as you felt sleep threaten you again. He laid the two of you down, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“I won’t. I’ll always be here.” You relaxed in his embrace, breathing deeply. Sleep came quickly, and for the first time in a long time you weren’t afraid of it.

You were safe.

***

Training the next day was the best session you had ever experienced. You felt refreshed after finally getting a restful sleep, ready to tackle whatever Cassian threw at you. You were full of determination, a stark contrast to the shell of yourself you were before.

You were nearing the end of your training session, knives in both hands, when you made a mistake. You stumbled and failed to block his attack. His knife ended up pressed flat against your stomach, in the same spot you had been attacked. You screamed and pushed him away, backing yourself up. “What is wrong with you?!” You yelled, hands shaking.

Cassian dropped the knives he was holding, hands raised in surrender. “You were supposed to block it. I told you, we were going to work on self defense.” You knew it made sense why he would do that, but your anger and fear overshadowed practicality.

“You’re a fucking psycho Cassian!” You threw the knives out of your hands like they were fire.

“I’m trying to help you. That is why we are up here, is it not? To train?” He stepped closer to you, anger of his own rising.

You shook your head. “Do you want to help me? Or do you just like the idea of the poor, weak damsel in distress? I don’t need you to protect me.”

He laughed and moved closer, towering over you. “That’s not what you said last night, when I basically had to rock you to sleep like a babe!” You glared at him, not shying away from his large form.

“You could have left at any time. I was handling it on my own before you came.”

“Handling it? You weren’t sleeping! You were allowing it to take over, turning to drink instead of help.” He moved even closer, your chests brushing with every breath.

“I hate you,” you spat out, even if the close proximity was making you doubt that.

“No you don’t.” His voice was softer, a hand coming to tilt your face up to him.

“I do.” You didn’t sound like you believed it. Especially not as he leaned down closer to you, lips centimeters from yours.

“Is that so?” He teased, eyes dark. Your breathing was heavy, overwhelmed by him.

“Just kiss me already.” The words were scarcely out of your mouth before his lips slotted over yours, his other arm wrapping tight around your waist. You sighed into the kiss, opening your mouth to his. Cassians teeth bit over your bottom lip, a pleased chuckle at the sound you made.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since I helped you stretch that first day,” he whispered, pulling away to kiss down your neck. “When you made that moan, I knew I needed you.” He pulled the same sound from you now, biting the sensitive skin under your ear. His hand tightened on your waist, a low growl sending heat through you. “You will be the death of me.”

His lips came back to yours, kissing you hard. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him tight, enjoying the feeling of him pressed up against you. “Cass,” you murmured, body going still. You looked up into his expression of shock that you were certain mirrored your own. “Cass?” A sudden fear rose through you, worry that he didn’t want a bond. Not with you. Was he going to reject it, was he going to reject you, where would you go, what would you do-

Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by him kissing you again. “My mate,” he said, kissing you again and again. You smiled into his kisses, holding tight to him. And you felt it.

As long as Cassian was yours, you would be safe.

***

First of all, thank you so much for your comment about Rejected <3. I love that one and i’m so happy you do too! Second of all, I am SO SORRY this took me so long to do!!! I hope it lived up to what you wanted ❤️ Thank you so much for being patient with me and for requesting this!

[billskeis]

ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡

ﾟ。 billskeis' tokio hotel masterlist

the awaited masterlist ! everything feels much more organized so im very happy with how this turned out ^.^

bill kaulitz ᵎᵎ

sharing a bed w bill first time w bill sleepy sex w bill club encounters w bill under the mistletoe w bill bill and his tank tops alley sex w bill bill's faux fur coat after dinner acts w bill bill's instagram story arguments w bill bill's love for fluffy hair police officer bill p2 bill's gf meets the band bill's hands bus shenanigans w bill missing bill kaulitz under the shirt action w bill finding out bill likes you too loser virgin bill and his experienced gf bill’s a stalking pervert high sexing bill boyfie bill who nurtures his gf bill loves thigh jobs bill’s stupid priorities bill’s dinner gone wrong macky’s feast endeavours bill fucks good in the dressing room bill lasts long cockwarming bill

tom kaulitz ᵎᵎ

shopping w tom tom w georg's sister tom who is clingy and jealous vampire bf tom p2 jean to jean action w tom tom is jelly and silly clingy tom while sick subby tom eating you out learning german w tom tom teasing his gf tom helping his gf w math punishments w tom tom w his new hair do tom receiving the best head ever sharing a bed w tom tom and his waitress facesitting w tom tom meeting your family sneaky movie theatre acts w tom bf tom who takes care of your panic attacks tom, homework, and a pretty girl tom, a dummy in denial tom’s post nap boner a broken leg,& nurse tom tom’s personal bookworm beach boy tom

georg listing ᵎᵎ

georg w motorcycler s/o

gustav schäfer ᵎᵎ

gustav pleasing his bf

kaulitz twins ᵎᵎ

kaulitz twins w iron deficient gf beach days w the kaulitz twins the kaulitz twin’s after-party “party”

headcannons ᵎᵎ

bill w teen daughter p2 tokio hotel w s/o who has sensory issues tokio hotel w shy s/o bill w grunge/nu metal gf tom w coquette gf

[lovebugism]

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼ ｜ ／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come. 

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness. 

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst. 

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh. 

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film” came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you. 

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick —  his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you. 

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe. 

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s. 

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you. 

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined. 

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

“That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner. 

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime. 

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible. 

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close. 

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least. 

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life. 

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington. 

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.” 

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you? 

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there? 

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do? 

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park? 

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway. 

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again. 

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／ ｜ ＼。★

[heartilywrites]

❝ In every universe ; H. Callahan

next >

cw: mention of death, angst, spider-verse references, swear words, just spider!hazel being a dork too!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: heiya!! this is my first post ever, I just had an idea of spider!hazel and wanted to share it with y'all!!! hope u like it ♡ I'm sorry if there's any mistake, english is not my first language!

“𝓞kay! let's do this one more time. My name is Hazel Callahan, I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for a year and a half I've been the one and only Spider–Woman. I'm sure you know the rest. ”

⠀Hazel was running.

Hazel was running late to the fight club, third time this week.

Can you blame her. . .? Maybe. Let's see, she finished her last class on time, hell, she was 5 minutes early out of school; so she thought, —why not going out to kill time while the fight club meeting started?— but oh, Hazel. . . she should stayed inside.

Three minutes after stepping foot outside a scream was heard followed by a explotion and a very familiar laugh, the brunette made a tiny tantrum before running to a nearby alley and change to her suit.

So now it made sense why she was with her mask between her teeth while she's shoving her suit in that old brown backpack her mother gifted her when she was around fourteen.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What the fuck, Hazel?” PJ spoke when the girl came through the doors, everyone's eyes on her now. “We promised to be punctual, who do you think you are to be this late? Spider–Woman?”

Hazel laughed a bit too loud due to her nervousness, the action made the other brunette frown a bit before letting her in. She started speaking again.

To her fortune, no one asked why she was all bruised up and had some fresh cuts in her face, for what they knew, Hazel was still going to taekwondo. Or at least, that's what she told everyone, also, she was a purple belt! According to her, again, but she has been a purple belt since dropping taekwondo.

Callahan made her way to the group, noticing one more new face and ... wait, was tha–?

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Punishment for coming late, newbie and Hazel. Let's go!” PJ talked again, making the latter jumped on her place looking back at the girl who just smiled with malice.

Once both girls were set up one infront of the other one Hazel called your name with confusion and you just looked like you were about to cry. “You know each other?” asked Josie just as confused.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, we. . . we were best friends since kids, but she had to move out when we were fifteen. When did you–” Hazel was cut off by your fist hitting her nose.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh! Newbie can fight!” PJ laughed at the scene just witnessed. “Defend yourself, Hazel!”

The brunette looked shocked at what just happened, but was fast to attack back.

Now, Hazel was known to be a great fighter; the spider bite made her be more cautious about other people's way to attack, but she just couldn't figure you out. Her. . . uhh, she calls it intuition, so; her intuition has been all over the place making her being attentive of everything since she saw you. It's like she has the answer on the tip of her tongue, but couldn't say it.

On the whole gym the sound of Callahan's body hitting the ground made an echo. Your knee was on her torso and both hands holding hers, she looked as shocked as she was at the beginning.

Everyone clapped; shocked, confused, surprised and really excited (PJ, obviously).

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright, that's enough of seeing Haze getting her ass kicked.” Josie stood up laughing a bit nervous. “We should continue with the next couple.”

You didn't make a sound, just took Hazel's hand to help her stand up and make your way back to your sit and watched the next pair, the latter just sat on her own side with that a frown.

When the practice ended, everyone sprinted out of the gym leaving you and Hazel alone for the first time. Once you notice that, panic began to rise in your system.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Hey. . .” that sweet voice you didn't thought you'll hear again rang in your ears. “It's nice to see you. . . I missed you.”

Your breath stopped in your lungs and both hands moving to collect things stop as well. “It's nice to see you too. . .” your own voice came out with a little shake. “I– you look great. . . And happy.”

A really weak smile started to make its way into your face when you turned around and for the first time in the lapse of two hours you were there your eyes met hers with calm. She was smiling big at you and didn't give you time to think before her arms were around your body with a tiny laugh.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, god! I have so much to tell you!” she exclaimed with the excitement a child would have, after some time, the hug broke. “When did you arrive? Why didn't you call me? We need to go back to that one café! You know, that girl keeps asking fo—” Hazel's words were cut off when both of your arms were around her hugging her body, almost crushing her ribs. “Shit, you got stronger ... Are you okay?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, no, I'm sorry.” a sniff sounded from your side “I just needed one from you.” now your head nodded.

Hazel was about to talk when both of you felt your "tingles" —oh, some Hazel is going to be pissed when she finds out that other people call it that.— started to alert.

Your best friend not knowing how to make an excuse was so close to run away without a word before you took her hand.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Don't ask, I know you're spider–woman, we need to leave now.” you said almost pleading, taking advantage at the fact that it was only the both of you, you undressed quickly staying in your spider suit as well. Hazel looked like she was about to pass out.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “YOU–” she cut off herself after realizing she was yelling. “You're spider–woman too!?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don’t have time to explain right now, Haze! Please, just follow me, I– we need your help.” An answer came from your way while looking for your mask and put it on.

As if she could feel your exasperation, Hazel was quick to run under the benchs to get herself ready, while you watched if anyone came in. Once she was full-on suit, without talking you guided the way.

There was a job you needed to do before leaving. It was supposed to be an in–and–out job, no distraction, no waste of time, just the reason why you were sent to that dimension and then: continue to another assignment.

But your destination point was so near to the same school you went on your dimension and thought maybe of visiting, knowing your heart was aching for something else.

As soon as the both of you arrived to the scene you turned to Hazel. “Alright, listen, this is the plan.” your voice sounded a little muffled because of the mask, but was clear enough for her to hear.

There was a villain who didn't belong to that earth and you were assigned to take him back to the quarters so they could send him back to his dimension.

Once your best friend understood the plan it was time to execute it.

You were not going to lie, Hazel and you made a pretty good team together. Swinging in harmony, having the best unspoken communication about who made which punches first or who was doing the distraction and who was the attacker.

She improvised a bit, making it easier for the both of you to capture and kick the bad guy through a portal you open with your tools.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That was awesome!? Where did you learn to fight like that!?” An excited Hazel talked while taking her mask off, a big smile in her face and messy bangs were covering her eyes, you smiled a bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It came with the bite, didn't it?” You answer while brushing a bit your hair, a couple of steps were taken and now you brushed Hazel's bangs so you could see her eyes. “Uhm, the organization taught me.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What organization? The one you sent that stupid thing to?” She asked making air signals with her hands about the portal which was closed by then, now you laughed shortly and nodded.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Here, let's sit and I'll talk to you about it.” you said while climbing to the nearest roof and sitting yourself with your legs crossed, Hazel was quick to swing herself up and sit by your side.

You talked about everything; about how you were from another dimension, how you worked with spider–people from everywhere —fact that made Hazel very happy, feeling that she wasn't the only one anymore.—, your assignment, why you were the one to get that assignment and about the next one.

Hazel listened with glowing eyes like a kid when they see something they want, between her hands she took one of yours and was playing with it, both of them were in your suits. Your suit and Hazel's were almost the same, that made your heart feel warm somehow; while yours was red and black with some golden straps on your upper arms, Hazel's was red and blue with the same upper arms detail, but it was black.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “So. . . Can I join?” she asked after some minutes of comfortable silence where you both were looking to the hands holding.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's not up to me, sunny.” you called her nickname making Hazel remember your childhood together. “I was not supposed to look for you, actually, I was order to do it alone.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Then. . . why did you?” instead of sounding mad or annoyed, she sounded curious.

You took a couple of minutes before answering.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I needed to see you. . . At least in another dimension.” your sight turned blurry because of the tears. “I lost you in mine.”

The other girl's face was full surprise, she didn't speak nor asked for clarification, instead she move as close as the anatomy would allow the both of you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “In my dimension I didn't move away, I convinced my parents to stay here.” you began to say, wiping away tears streaming down your face. “We were happy, then I got bit by the spider instead of you and became spider–woman.” a bitter laugh came out from your throat.

~ “I was scared to death about the new powers, but you assured me that it was a good thing, that you were going to be by my side all the time.” a deep breath was heard and now Hazel hugged you from your shoulders, you almost melted. “We started to date. . .”

It was there where Hazel felt her heart skipped a beat when having a reminder of those feelings that didn't vanished with your moving, a blush starting to burn in her cheeks and ears.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We had plans, a lot of plans for the future, together.” That part sounded more like you were talking by yourself instead of saying it to her. “And I got this piece of shit terrorizing the city at the time and I said, I should go, take him down and come back home for our anniversary date.”

The girl with short hair knew where that was going by the way your voice filled with hate and you started to shake.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You said you wanted to help, he was fucking some machines that needed to be turned off before taking the whole city out and I thought that maybe if I took you there you will be safe, you will turn the machines off and I'll meet you outside the building so we could go to the dinner.” An almost incontrollable tremble in your voice made an appearance.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Darling. . .” Hazel's voice called out, you shook your head.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I could have saved you if I. . . if he didn't saw you trying to turn off the machines.” You ignore the call, taking another deep breath. “After you died I killed him.” You shrugged, Hazel made a pout. “I'm sorry, I just–”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Don't apologize, moony.” she was quick to cut you off. When she said your nickname, a face full of tears was what she saw in you. “It's not your fault, please, know that.”

She gave you a tiny squeeze while you looked for shelter between her arms with your face in her neck.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You know, I did liked you when you were still here. . . Well not you you, your other you. . . My you?” Hazel frowned confused at her own comment, you laughed. “I always thought what could happened if you never left. . . I think I have the answer now.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, god, don't talk about it. I always thought what could happened if I did move away.” you stood up again now to look to the girl, who was blushing a bit still. “Thank you, Hazel. . .”

And another comfortable silence was upon you two. One of Hazel's hand made its way to you cheek, wiping rest of tears. There it was, that war between eyes that you missed from Hazel, but definitely what she did next took you by surprise.

Her lips met yours in a kiss, the sweetest kiss you felt since your girlfriend left your side. The feeling of letting yourself go and fuse with the girl against you was strong, that feeling of holding her and never letting go again, the impulse of forgetting that you needed to go back to report so you could continue with the work.

Both mouths moving in synchronization, as if they were made for each other since the beginning. Your arms hugging her neck to get her as close as possible.

And then your communicator interrupted the interaction, with a groan you separated yourself from her and look at the bracelet on you wrist.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Fuck!” you exclaimed while realizing they were looking for you. As if someone took you by the ear, you stood up in your feet and look at Hazel with sorrow. “I have to leave. . .”

As those words left your mouth, she stood up by your side and took your hands. “Am I. . . Are you going to come back?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don’t know, Haze. . .” you said in a sigh, while hearing the characteristics sound of portals from the organization you stole a kiss from her. A really needy one, a goodbye one. “Hope you're happy, baby, you deserve it.” a whisper came out of you as soon as you started to back away from her without looking away from her eyes. “I love you, Hazel, in every universe.”

Behind you a portal open, you knew it was your mentor looking for you. You gave her a last sight before waving and jump into said portal and as soon as she lost you from sight, the portal closed.

Hazel stood there completely shocked at everything that happen, a feeling of emptiness filled her soul. Looking down her hands she spotted a bracelet, the one you were wearing, her eyes opened with surprise.

Should. . . Should she try?

next part !!

[fatkish]

Hi!!I absolutely love your child reader fics I was wondering if you could do one with aizawa but the reader is autistic and a student at UA??You don’t have to included this but but I had a quirk in mind basically Spider-Man’s powers to put it short :)

(So I combined a request for a Kirishima x older sibling figure reader with this one so I hope you don’t mind. Both were going to be pretty short on their own so I combined them to make them longer)

Aizawa and Kirishima x Autistic Student Reader:

The Spider-Vigilante

The reader is a 2nd year at UA and this takes place a year before the current events

Reader was expelled from the hero course by Aizawa during their 1st year due to him fearing that they would never make it

The reader has the same abilities as Spider-Man and it sometimes leads to panic attacks from overstimulation which is why Aizawa doubted their abilities

Reader has been a vigilante for some time

They mostly do their thing at night since they’re not in the hero course (anymore)

The reader is friendly and doesn’t understand boundaries so they sometimes get too personal with others and over share information

Their friendly with nighttime heroes and have made hero friends like Fatgum

That’s one end of them

On the other end, they may want to have as little social interaction as possible so they just get the job done and run away

Webbing up the criminals and leaving them for heroes and cops to find

One night the reader ends up having a panic attack in an alley due to overstimulation and Kirishima finds them. As well as a villain

The villain tries to attack Kirishima so the reader uses their webs to tie them up and being amazed at the reader’s skills, kirishima begs the reader to teach him

The reader’s parents are dead and they live in a small studio apartment by themselves

They have a part time job delivering food

Kirishima basically begs his parents to let the reader stay the night and they eventually end up adopting the reader after learning about their situation basically, since the reader is almost always there. They even have a small room made up for them for them to sleep

The reader helps Ejiro study and trains him in martial arts and combat

The reader trains in shorts and a tank top since it allows for the hairs on their body to sense things easier

The reader is really smart academically but street smarts and social skills aren’t their strong suit

One night they run into Aizawa as he catches them and they accidentally let slip

“Mr. Aizawa! Uh.. I mean, Eraserhead!….crap!”

This spelled their doom

Aizawa realized that only a student would call him and recognize him as that so he used his scarf to capture the reader and pulled their mask off

After having a thorough talk with the reader who was in general studies since he had expelled them from the hero course, he decided to put them back in the hero course

He realized that his actions wouldn’t stop the reader and that if he can’t stop them then at least he can help prepare them for their future

That night Kirishima frets and worries about the reader all night until they finally crawl in through the window

Kirishima has so much respect for the reader and sees them as his sibling and treats them as such

He even calls them big bro, sis, or just their name

Aizawa helps the reader and trains them as well as tutors them

[filthyguts]

it’s 1 am and I’m having a brain blast so here’s the moriohpsycho (aka insano crossover ship bateman x yoshikage kira) au plot line…

So in dis post kira is a new hire @ pierce&pierce cuz he had to flee morioh on acct of almost being found out and Patrick literally almost had an panic attack simply from looking at him at a meeting (Kira’s awful lilac suit gives him hives.)

Basic au plot:

IDK if kira is gonna have killer queen in this au I shall see where the wind takes me…. Anyways so later on they have a meetcute at a dumpster in an alley- both dumping a body 😭😭they get into a scuffle here(aka about to try and kill eachother)☠️ but then kira is like wait aren’t u Patrick Bateman and Patrick is like FUCK bc he cant remember Kira’s name😭 they hear police sirens close by(unrelated to them lol) and flee.

at this point patrick is spiraling and is wondering if kira is even real since his coworkers hardly talk about him- and going to work the next day they see eachother and kira doesnt say anything about the night before😭😭 anyways- so during all this kira is quietly freaking out about being found out and having to run away AGAIN and finds Patricks addy - breaks into his apartment - is hiding under his bed about to try and get Bateman reimi sugimoto style, Bateman wakes up to take a piss- kira slices his leg- bateman freaks out (heavily due to the fact about wounding his perfect skin), sees kira, remembers his name this time, and then they start to struggle fight AGAIN.

During the fight Patrick throws Kira into the fridge, causing it to open and all the ziploc baggies of body parts Patrick has in there spill out onto the floor and onto Kira (also some hands too) and Kira takes a moment to be like . Ok wait so you really are doing this shit too huh ☠️ and then they have a weird…very thick air tense moment before kira goes back to trying to kill him bc oh ur a threat to my quiet life blah blah I’m not gonna let this happen again like in morioh (he accidentally admits that he fled the country bc he’s an idiot) and now uh oh they have incriminating blackmail against eachother!

Another reason kira is pissed at Patrick is because he’s taking all the people HE wanted to get to first and just in general being really sloppy and attention seeking abt it 😭😭 so kira tells him and Batemans like wtf are you gonna do about it I do what I want LOL and Kira’s like ERMM then I’ll tell the police and Batemans like ERMM uno reverse I’ll do that to you so now they’re in another weird spot and begrudging compromise somehow to “share” as long as they try not to hurt or ruin the other. And then from there they get Real Weird with it

[circinuus]

Hey !!! I saw ur request open and can i ask an port mafia dazai! X reader where its their first time meeting ? They are 15 and reader is just a highschooler but got in the wrong place at the wrong moment and got attacked by some ennemies but Pm!Dazai saves them? And then he got interest into reader and go to visit him to their highschool and all ^^

dying prohibited!

15! dazai x highschooler! reader. 1.6k words

in which a strange meeting leads to the start of a peculiar friendship, and an odd game of persuasion.

[platonic -> slow burn]

❥ anon I love this scenario so much. tweaked some things but i hope i didn't flunk the execution

There is something unusual about the boy standing in front of you.

He is dressed in a dark trench coat, with an equally dark suit and tie. The bandages he wears are reminiscent of an article about 'eight-grader syndrome' you once read. But the more you look at him with your panic-struck eyes, you worry your judgment is a mere product of parochial thoughts.

"Come now," he steps forward.

"Shoot. Right here. There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging this life, anyway."

You should've listened to your parents. Criminals knew how well summer fireworks mask the noise of crime. Now you're stuck in some dark alley with a coward who mugs kids and a suicidal, depressed boy.

"You, brat with the yukata!"

Oh shit. 

"That's a nice looking wear you got there. Bet mommy and daddy got loads of money, huh?"

"Listen, please," you approach him with trembling hands, eyes flitting between the bastard and the poor boy sharing your predicament, "I only have this.."

This is stupid. But it's no time to be a smart coward, either.

Closing the distance, you raise the small pouch you brought to his eye level, and-

Gave the thug a hard kick on the groin. 

It could've been the momentary adrenaline, or the surge of protectiveness you felt for the boy who seemed to lose all hope in living. You didn't miss a beat and hastily grab his frail hand, dashing out from the alley as fast as your sandal-covered soles can afford you to be. 

"Don't say things like that," you pant in between breaths. His wrist felt very thin, and you fear to see what lies under the bandages.

Is he from an abusive household?

"I'm (Name)," you turn to his deep, jet-black irises, "I'll be your friend. We'll be okay." The sight of the increasingly bright street colors your eyes with hope, and your hold tightens in his hand.

"There's still something to look forward to in life! So-"

"Nice try, brat." 

The flickering lights of the festival across the alley slip off your sight, robbed off by rough, burly hands manhandling your small stature like a kid to a ragdoll.

Your heart drops. 

There were two of them.

"Since you both want death so much," another click of a cheap Glock resounds in your ear. "Why don't I just blow off your head right now?"

Shit.

The world spins. Oxygen feels scarce. Fear bites your heart like a rabid beast. You glance at the black-clad boy in desperation, the guy from before already recovering with limping steps; another bullet aimed at the back of the boy's head. But- 

"You're interesting," he smiles at your fear-stricken face.

"The hell is this brat-"

"(Name), was it?" he approaches you, voice incongruously steady among the chaos.

"Close your eyes and make a wish. The fireworks will go off soon." 

"!"

The headlock on your neck tightens and the press of the cold firearm harsher. Before drops of dread-induced tears run down your cheek, loud explosions intruded your senses, littering the sky with miscellaneous bursts of fire flowers. 

Your ears ring, and panic numbed your body. Your eyes flutter close in wishful desperation.

Please make this go away.

You couldn't feel your body, and for the remaining time of the summer explosions, your mind is numbed. 

I don't want to die.

A heavy thud falls behind you, the noise losing against the raging summer festivities. Almost simultaneously, your body feels lighter.

Light, then frigid by your cold sweat. Your eyelids remain still, darkness reigning over your senses. It was a beat after the fireworks cease when swift steps approach you.

"Keep them closed," a pair of hands take hold of you, the edges of fraying bandages brushing against your fingertips as they guide you forward.

"Good job. You can open them now."

As if the curtain calls, everything oxidizes away like a distant dream. In your line of sight was the bandaged kid, the streetlights and the distant buzz of the festival serve as a backdrop for his dark-clad figure.

"I-" a broken sob escapes you, "The police?"

"The police?" he tilts his head.

A beat of silence passed by, until the boy smiles indulgently.

"..Sure. The police found us. Can you believe it? The timing was impeccable."

"Where are they now?" you falter, "Shouldn't anyone be making sure we're safe?-"

"They're taking those criminals away. You're safe now."

You look at him, to his barely shaken voice and eyes, to the frail hands that still hold your wrist. 

Something tells you you shouldn't prod further. 

"Well then!" he steps back with a swish of his coat. "Another suicide attempt thwarted huh? Talk about a time of celebrations.."

"You-"

"Oh, right! You can go back on your own, can you? Don't get yourself lost again. Unless you're really just a dumb dog who needs to be guided on the-"

"A dog?! That's it, enough cutting me off!" 

You eye the bandages that litter his skin, mind flitting to the way he addressed suicide like talking about school holidays, or whatever the hell just happened. Everything about him screams something you shouldn't be involved with. But the alertness, confusion and mild annoyance drain away the moment your mind came to a realization.

He needs help more than you do.

"Are you okay?"

The words slides from your tongue unbidden, and for a second, he looks dumbstruck. 

"I mean!" you flail your arms, "I'm fine. But are you injured? We should call the police back. No, an ambulance! My parents!"

"But, you know.. I was serious about being your friend. You can talk to me about anything if you want! Just don't say such depressing things again.."

The languid summer night air blows, and you're face to face with those jet-black eyes again. A hint of surprise, then something curious.

Has no one ever said that to him before? 

"You are interesting!" a beat passes before he chirps with a sing-song voice, "You're (Name), right? Nice to meet you, new friend." 

"Huh? Oh- Nice to meet you too, er.." 

He smiles a cat-like grin, "You can call me.."

"Dazai!?"

Your second meeting with the bandaged boy was when the early winds of autumn blow away summer heat and its holiday joy; unprecedented all the same. Back then, his dark garments melded flawlessly with the darkness of the deserted alleyway—as flawlessly as how he slipped away before your parents came to you with worried fuss. Now he appears misplaced among the brightly painted walls of your school's cafeteria.

He lounged about like a lethargic cat, uncaring by your friends' inquisitive murmurs before his eyes finally meet yours.

"Yukata looked good on you," he hums, appraising eyes observing your befuddled state. "But you're not half bad in a school uniform too! Maybe try a maid costume next, and-"

As the cafeteria is drowned by the increasing hustle of bustle of recess, you drag dazai away before any teacher or security can ask you why your 'friend' is trespassing on the private school grounds.

"So this is where you go to school," Dazai leans again the scrawny metal fence. You are now nestled in the less crowdy garden behind the class buildings. It was something of a lucky streak how you didn't come across anyone.

"Don't lean on that," slight frown blooms on your face. "What're you doing here anyway?"

He shrugs, "Seeing a friend?"

Huh. okay. But more importantly-

"I don't remember telling you where I-"

"Speaking of!" he cuts you off, "I have something important to talk about."

"Hence!" he suddenly takes your hands, clasping both of them in his, "There's no point in prolonging such a life of suffering! we should just go and die-"

You eye him worriedly.

"On the way, I saw a glimpse of your class. I can't help noticing you all look depressed, like suuper depressed!"

"Dazai!" 

You subtly flinch at how unintentionally loud your voice was, slightly guilty when Dazai looks positively like a perplexed cat. When you feel that surge of protectiveness resurfaces, his expression melts to one of those curious ones he always liked to give you.

Cute. If he hasn't been saying all these extremely concerning things.

"Listen," you give his hands a firm grasp, "I'm not.. good with this kind of talk. But you're not going to die anytime soon."

"Why not?"

"I won't let you."

"Why?"

"Aren't we friends?"

"So?"

You bite your tongue.

"I'll miss you."

The twinge of discomfort was inevitable as you realize how vain and vacuous that sounded. And yet,

"High schoolers are so bold!" his scandalized gasp breaks your worry, "Do you like me?"

"What?" 

"You do! I knew my charm is just irresistible."

Well, he is cute.

"So let's not wait for a second and go die together!-"

But that is the last time you're humoring him.

"Listen," you hold his gaze.

"Friends don't let their friends go on some..suicide," the words roll on your tongue like sour candy.

"And I did say there's more to life to look forward to."

'I can prove it!' you added. But Dazai only sizes you up with that same calculating, appraising eyes.

"Come on, give me a chance?"

A strange meeting leads to a strange reunion. And this small game of persuasion might be the start of your peculiar friendship with the equally strange boy. Perhaps it'll even bloom into something more along the way.

sorry this feels so clunky i gave up editing🤡

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[doumadono]

Hi! My name is Katey. I'm not sure if emergency requests are open so feel free to ignore if not no worries!

I ran into my abuser today and pretty much had a public anxiety attack

How would Douma react to someone who he cares about experiencing the same situation. Like let's say he did love and care about someone a lot, they are taking a stroll at night in the entertainment district and she freezes in fear from seeing her abuser.

A/N: Hello, Katey! I genuinely hope you're feeling better now. After such an unpleasant situation, remember to take a moment for yourself and clear your head. Whether it's focusing on work, home duties, or indulging in your hobbies, staying busy might help you find some comfort. I'm honored that you chose me for your emergency request. This is my first time with this format, and I really hope these headcanons will bring a smile to your face

MASTERLIST

As you walk together in the entertainment district at night, Douma's arm is gently wrapped around your shoulders, providing a sense of warmth and security. He's been looking forward to spending this time with you, and the relaxed atmosphere makes him believe that tonight would be perfect.

Suddenly, he notices your demeanor change as you spot someone, namely your abuser in a crowd, and he immediately stops, concern etched on his face. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with genuine worry.

"He… He's here… I told you about him…" you mumble, your voice nothing but a whisper.

When he sees your fearful expression, Douma's protective instincts kick in, and he pulls you closer, almost instinctively. "You're safe with me. Take your time," he whispers reassuringly, giving you the space to process your emotions.

If you're comfortable, Douma would gently guide you to a nearby bench, sitting beside you and keeping a reassuring hand on your back. "I'm here for you. You don't have to face this alone."

He listens attentively as you share your feelings, validating your emotions and offering words of comfort. "I can't imagine how difficult this is for you, but I believe in your strength. You've already shown incredible courage."

As you begin to regain composure, Douma encourages you to breathe deeply, focusing on your breath. "Inhale slowly… exhale gently," he instructs, guiding you through calming techniques he's learned over time.

With a gentle smile, he reminds you, "You're not defined by your past. You are strong, and you've grown beyond those experiences."

Feeling a bit more at ease, you lean into his support, appreciating the love and care he's shown you. Douma's presence is like a comforting anchor amidst the turmoil of emotions.

Just as you're about to leave, you see your abuser approaching, and panic starts to resurface. Douma, sensing the danger, stands between you and your abuser, a dark intensity in his eyes. "Stay back," he warns, his voice low and menacing.

he abuser hesitates, visibly intimidated by Douma's display of power, and eventually decides to leave. Douma's eyes never leave the abuser until they are well out of sight.

Douma guides you back to his shrine and offers you a cup of soothing tea.

While you're resting, little do you know that Douma's expression changes subtly as he stands up, excusing himself. The darkness in his eyes is evident, reflecting his determination to take matters into his own hands.

Unbeknownst to you, Douma slips back into the Entertainment District, moving stealthily like a shadow. His steps are soundless, and his figure blends seamlessly with the night.

Finding the abuser, Douma pulls the man into one of the narrow alleys and confronts him in the shadows, his voice a low, chilling whisper. "You will never lay a finger on her again. You know, everyone's afraid of dying. And that's why I eat you all, pathetic people up. My, my! What a night!"

In the dark of the night, Douma's actions are swift and merciless, ensuring that the abuser poses no threat ever again.

[propertyofkylar]

rescue - whitney x gn!pc

"Fuuuck."

Being attacked was nothing new in this town, obviously, but that didn't mean it didn't suck every time. You sucked in a raggedy breath as you leaned your head against the wall, trying to remember if you were supposed to tilt your head up or down when you had a nosebleed.

You'd manage to kick your attackers off and send them scrambling away, but you didn't leave without injuries of your own. Your ankle hurt too much for you to move right now, so you sat in the alley and hoped it would feel better soon so you could hobble home before someone else came after you. At least you still had another pepper spray canister - Kylar was good for some things. You almost wished that he would find you here. He had that knife, and he was sort of caring in an insane way...

It was then that you heard more footsteps coming down the alleyway. You tensed up and held out the pepper spray. "Don't fucking come another step closer," you called out, hoping your voice wasn't shaking as badly as you thought it was.

"That's so cute that you think that could stop me," a familiar voice came. You almost jumped up in surprise, but your ankle gave out and you crashed back down to the pavement.

"You could just say hi for once, Whitney," you groaned, turning your head so he wouldn't notice the nosebleed. It always felt humiliating for him to see you like that, especially because he enjoyed seeing you so weak.

"Wouldn't be as fun," you could hear the smirk in his voice. "You look like shit, slut."

You groaned again and turned to face him, feeling blood drip from your nose. "Thanks. I had no idea."

A brief look of what seemed like panic flashed on his face before his expression settled into his normal smug look, making you wonder if you were just seeing things. "The fuck happened to you?"

You didn't answer. You thought it was pretty obvious.

"Who did it? Where'd they go?" He looked around, as if the attackers were still right there. "Messing with my fucking property..."

"I don't fucking know. It doesn't matter," you sighed. You really weren't in the mood to deal with him at the moment for obvious reasons.

He paused for a moment. "Stay right there, slut."

"Whitney -" you started, but he was already gone. Fucking great. And not like you were going anywhere in this state anyway.

It wasn't too long before he came back, gripping a bunch of crumpled-up napkins in one hand and a cup in another. Whitney squatted down next to you and set the cup on the ground. It was a milkshake.

You tilted your head, silently asking him why. He rolled his eyes.

"You've got blood all over your face. Grabbed napkins from the cafe, and thought I might as well get something out of this," he moved the cup so it was pressed against your ankle, providing sweet relief. At the same time, he leaned in and took a hold of your chin, gently wiping your face.

"Be a good slut and hold still," he murmured. The intensity of his stare made you feel frozen in place, anyway.

The tender way he touched you reminded of you of when you were little and Robin would fall and skin his knee. You would sit next to him with a damp towel and gently wipe at the injury, soothing his tears. It was a nurturing sort of action - not at all what you would expect from Whitney.

Once Whitney was finished, he grabbed the milkshake and leaned against the wall, taking a sip. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder and with the other, offered you the cup, which you took with a small smile.

"Where are your friends?" You asked. It was rare to see him without a gang following him.

Whitney shrugged. "Ditched 'em. Looked like it might rain." That seemed to be all you would get out of him on that topic.

You sat and idly chatted as you shared the milkshake. When it had been drained, Whitney stood up.

"Alright. C'mere. Let's get you home," he said, reaching out a hand.

"Huh?" You blinked in surprise. Whitney rolled his eyes again.

"I'm not gonna leave my best slut alone and injured in an alley. The fuck would that do for me?" He hoisted you up and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Put your arm around my shoulder. And don't put weight on your ankle."

You did as he asked, considering there wasn't much else you could do. Besides, his arm felt nice around you.

Luckily, you weren't too far from the orphanage, so the walk wasn't awful. Resting had helped a lot, and your ankle honestly was barely hurting anymore. But Whitney still held you up, and you let him.

He paused out front and gave you an odd look. Suddenly, he sighed and looked away. "Just...be more careful next time. I can't be your knight in shining armor all the time."

You frowned. "I mean, it's not like I asked you. You kinda just showed up."

He shrugged. "You were in my alley." He paused again before leaning in to kiss you. His lips tasted like vanilla and stale cigarettes.

Then he pulled away and slapped your ass. "See ya tomorrow, slut," Whitney smirked as he walked away. "I'm expecting an extra good thanks for saving your life and shit."

You couldn't help but smile as you watched him leave.

[makethatelevenrings]

The Sun, Moon, and Stars // D. Grayson x gn! reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: mentions of a strip club, sliiiight panic attack

Summary: part of assassin!verse Jason needs help with a mission and enlists you to go undercover at a strip club, but it makes bad memories boil to the surface. Dick pulls you out and makes sure you know just how loved you are.

It was fine. You were fine.

You repeated the words over and over to yourself in some desperate prayer that it would come true and your breathing would go back to normal instead of the hitched, choking spurts of air that kept escaping you. It had been fine. Truly.

This was a fact finding mission that Jason enlisted your help in because he needed someone to go undercover as a server and the club was in Bludhaven. Dick hadn’t liked the idea of sending you into a strip club because, while you were trained, you weren’t trained for espionage or covert operations. You were trained to hide amongst buildings, not people. Your usual uniform was all black head to toe so you could blend in with the shadows, not the stringy and sparkly number Jason had procured.

Jason and Dick were both in your ears thanks to the comms that hid within your ear canal from view. Jason kept giving instructions, pointing out who you needed to talk to and who to avoid, while Dick kept quiet aside from the occasional remarks that kept you level headed.

But then you started to realize how many eyes were on you and you blanched. You were used to being invisible, damnit. Your skill set wasn’t dependent on how you looked but how you moved and apparently, the less than legal underground of Bludhaven found you both appealing to look at because of how you looked and how you moved.

It was like they were admiring a good steak or some other kind of meat instead of a body and for a moment, you were back in that cage as your handlers displayed you to some investors, discussing your worth in the value of monetary budgets and kill counts. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes, pushing back the memory and locking it into the vault of things to address later. You needed to focus. You couldn’t fuck this up. Not when Jason relied on you. Not when the people he was working to help needed you.

“Buttercup,” Dick’s low, smooth voice came over the comm line and you inhaled deeply at the sound of his voice and the affectionate nickname he had taken to calling you after you expressed your love for that damned movie he showed you. Opening your eyes, you took in the glaring lights and vibrating bass that shook the walls. It was fine.

“I’m okay,” you whispered. “Just had a moment.”

“Okay,” Dick announced. “I’m pulling it. Buttercup, get out of there. I’ll meet you in the alley on the left side of the building.”

“‘Wing-” Jason started to protest.

“No. Ask Artemis or Roy or fucking, I don’t know, Kyle. I knew this was a bad idea from the start.”

Jason huffed but relented, hearing the hard edge to Dick’s voice. The whole family understood that you were and always would be Dick’s main priority. If he put his foot down when it came to you, they knew to immediately back off.

You stumbled out of the club and into the icy night air, grateful for a reprieve from the constant onslaught of sensations. Spinning on your heels, you sped towards the alley Dick said he would be in and immediately deflated when you saw the familiar kevlar-spandex weave come into view.

Dick reached up and plucked your comms out of your ear before pocketing it. He studied your face for a brief moment and then he held his hand out for you to take. You knew what to expect and you shut your eyes as soon as your skin met his glove, because he swept you into a tight hold and then directed his grappling line towards your shared apartment. You didn’t open your eyes until your feet landed on solid ground and you found yourself on your fire escape.

Pushing open the window, you smiled softly at the sight of Haley curled on the couch awaiting your arrival. The little dog cracked one eye open and then yipped in excitement when she saw her favorite people. You slid into the apartment and scooped her up in your arms, both using her as a way to gain cuddles, but also as a defense mechanism.

Waiting until the window was closed, you turned to face Dick and sighed. You pressed your face against Haley’s soft fur and peeked out at him from over her wriggling body.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just…I messed up. I’m sorry for ruining the mission.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he immediately shot back. “I should have said no to Jason. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

You shook your head and finally let Haley down so she could run to her other favorite person in the world. Dick accepted her sweet kisses against his fingers and then he stood, stripping off his gloves and heading for the bedroom. He beckoned for you to follow and you nervously stood in the doorway as he began to remove the Nightwing suit.

“Dick, you can’t just hide me in this apartment forever. I…I want to help, but I just…” You trailed off, unable to verbalize your shame at your fuckup. Dick immediately stopped removing his armor and instead moved to stand in front of you. His hands came up to grasp your shoulders and you melted into his touch. Tilting forward, you pressed your forehead against his shoulder and let out a shuddering breath.

“I was just a thing to them. Just something to admire and pet. I was a tool again. I wasn’t…I wasn’t a person. I didn’t have worth outside of what they determined.”

His lips pressed against your temple and he enfolded you into a hug. “But you’re worth everything. They don’t see that and the bastards who took you never saw that. You’re worth fucking everything, Buttercup, don’t you ever forget that.”

“You won’t ever let me forget it,” you joked and he chuckled, soft breath wafting over your cheek. Standing there, in your room, in his arms, you felt wanted. You felt loved.

“C’mon, let’s get out of these clothes, take a shower, into pajamas and then…” He left the ending of his sentence up to you and you tilted your head up so you could beam up at him.

“And then we watch Love is Blind?”

“I’m going to kill Cass for introducing that show to you, but yeah.”

You fiddled with the collar of his under armor and he nudged his nose against your temple, encouraging you to talk. Dick was always patient when you struggled to express your wants. It wasn’t something that you were trained to do. The Wayne family always pressed you to say what you wanted to do or eat or listen to and they always tried to ensure those wants were carried out.

“We could bake some cookies?” You asked it so shyly that his heart ached. He wanted to give you the whole world along with the sun and the stars, if you so desired it. No one should feel timid about asking for some fucking cookies. In fact, his blood damn near boiled when he thought about how you didn’t even know what a cookie was when Alfred made some the first week you were at the Manor.

“As you wish,” he murmured against your hair. Maybe you didn’t want the sun and the stars, but he could certainly get you cookies if that’s what you wanted.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Comforting Chad through his PTSD after he hears about Ghostface’s return

Warnings: mention of stabbing/injuries (past), ptsd,

my taglists are here (I added one for SCREAM) + you can requests here at any time

—

Despite moving across the country, the masked killer had followed the four survivors to New York. This time, the killer — or killers, since they rarely came alone — had for goal to frame Sam for their murders.

It started with Jason and Greg, two students from Film Studies, who got killed in their apartment. When the police got there, a ghostface mask — likely worn by the killer — had been left behind in their apartment along with Sam’s driver's license.

Then, Sam got a special call from six feet under from her ex-boyfriend, Richie. That call led her and Tara getting ambushed from an alley and attacked at the bodega where multiple customers were murdered.

Another mask was left behind the scene — the one of past ghostfaces Jill Roberts and Charlie Walker.

After the attack at the bodega, everyone — except Ethan — was forcely gathered at the apartment you shared with the Carpenter sisters because safety is better in numbers. Sam made sure everyone was in and triple locked the apartment door and shut and locked all windows for ultimate safety. No one could come in.

Anika and Mindy were talking on the couch while you, Chad, Sam and Tara were in the kitchen cleaning up the mess dinner left behind. Tara shared her worries as she was drying a glass, and Sam was quick to reassure her that whoever was behind the mast wont hurt her this time. She was talking through her ass, but as a big sister, she'd do and say anything to make Tara feel safe.

Her words seemed to have triggered old memories for Chad, who excused himself to the bathroom after putting down the plates.

Last year’s attack had landed him in the hospital and left him with PTSD.

When you got together, Chad didn’t want to unpack the Woodsboro baggage to you. He didn’t want you to burden you with the horrors he went through that night. But after you had woken him from occasional nightmares and coached him out of a few panic attacks, he felt like you needed to know about the real-life nightmare that plagued him.

You waited a minute or two, but when Chad didn’t return from the bathroom, you went to check on him. Maybe he was still peeing…or maybe he was sitting on the edge of your bed with his head in his hands. He took in a shaky breath, trying to chase away the flashing images in his head.

It pained you to see him suffer. All because two lunatic Stab fans wanted to shoot their own remake. People are nuts.

‘’Hey,’’ you muttered when you walked in, not wanting to scare him.

Chad didn’t look up. He knew it was you before you opened your mouth. Mindy only had eyes for Anika, and Tara was going through her own trauma. Sam cared about him, but not the way you did.

‘’I don’t want to go through this shit again.’’

You didn’t know what to say to that. Due to being related to one of the originals, Chad will always be a target.

You sat on the bed beside him and kissed his shoulder over his Blackmore University hoodie.

‘’We came all the way here to leave that night behind, but it served nothing. Someone managed to find us.’’ Chad’s shoulder began to shake and he started struggling to breathe.

Recognizing the signs, you got down on your knees before him and attempted to look in his eyes, but he had his head bowed firmly. ‘’Chad? Hey, look at me,’’ you said in a gentle but clear voice.

He couldn’t hear you, his thoughts clouded with flashes of running in Amber’s backyard with ghostface behind him and the feeling of the knife stabbing him seven times. He could still feel the excruciating pain of the knife, each stab marked on his body forever.

‘’That night is over. You’re not in Woodsboro anymore,’’ you continued telling him, placing your hands on his arms, trying to use physical contact.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working. His breathing was getting worse and your brain was running out of ideas.

The last time Chad had a nightmare, he mentioned something his old therapist had taught him. Since his nightmares were about the attack, he was advised to place his hand over his heart to hear his own heartbeat. Hearing the thumping of his heart would remind him that he's alive and not bleeding out to death in a backyard.

‘’Come back to me, baby. Chad,’’ you pleaded, attempting to take his hands in yours and place one of them on his chest.

A breath of relief left your lips when his shaking shoulders began to calm and Chad’s head lifted, veiled with fear.

You placed your hands on either side of his face. ‘’You’re gonna get through this, okay? You’ve survived once, you can do it twice.’’

Chad shook his head. ‘’I barely made it—’’

‘’But you’re here, right in front of me — alive,’’ you reminded him. ‘’We can get through this again, okay?’’

It took a few seconds before Chad moved his head into a nod. He pulled you up from the floor and onto his lap, then leaned his forehead against yours. ‘’We’ll get through this,’’ he whispered.

Your hands moved up and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him against your chest as he held you back. ‘’We’ll get through this.’’ 

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn

[the-sky-queen]

Hey! I really admired your idea for the Phantom Rider! I was wondering if you were able to explain a little more about how you've done your AU on it, if you're able to

Aw, thanks! I'm glad you like it! it's a really cool idea and if IDW doesn't go that route, then I definitely will! I haven't gotten very far yet in terms of ideas for this AU, but I've got a few and I'd be more than happy to share them!

My main idea is for how the mind control devices get activated in the first place. Following Surge's confrontation with Phantom Rider, Sonic flies off somewhere to be alone and calm down. You see after Issue 56 where Surge electrocuted him, Sonic gained a pretty big fear of lightning. So right now, he's basically having a mini panic attack since Surge had her electricity powers all up in his face. Sonic ends up in some back alley not too far away from the race. He tries to take deep breaths and calm down, but it doesn't really work and his panic only continues to increase. His heart pounds in his chest. He's hyperventilating.

Then all of the sudden, Eggman is there. (He put trackers in Sonic's suit and came to find him when it detected Sonic's panic attack. Yeah, the suit's got it's own biometric readers as well. Eggman's no amateur.) "Foolish Hedgehog. At least take off your helmet before you hyperventilate." Eggman reaches out and retracts the helmet for Sonic. At the same time, unbeknownst to Sonic, Eggman activates the mind control devices. Though they're not 100% active yet.

Eggman offers Sonic a water bottle and he takes it. Over the next few minutes, he manages to calm himself down. "Heh. Didn't think you cared, Eggy."

"I don't. I just didn't want you overloading my suit with all the distress it was picking up."

Sonic shrugs. The two of them converse for a few more minutes, going over what just happened at the race and what their plan is going forward. With one last snarky remark, Sonic puts his helmet back on and flies off. He plans to lay low until he hears from Amy and Tails and then meet back up with them.

I'm thinking that over the next few days leading up to the next race, Eggman starts to slowly exert more of his will over Sonic's mind. It starts with little urges to do things - things not too out of the ordinary. Sonic 'gets the idea' to grab a quick chilidog when he wasn't planning to. Before long he finds himself reluctant to take off the Phantom Rider suit - he doesn't want to run the risk of someone seeing him and blowing his cover . . . better safe than sorry. Then he stops meeting up with Amy and Tails, only talking with them when they contact him first. And when they do talk, he's only interested in talking about their mission. That's normal, right? They need to get this taken care of as quickly as possible. Then they can go back to their lives.

It all culminates at the next race. Phantom Rider makes his next appearance, but something's off this time. Jet immediately goes for him, but instead of taunting him like last time, this time Phantom Rider is dead silent. Nothing Jet or Suge do gets a reaction out of him. He stays completely focused on racing. Then when security shows up, Phantom Rider out maneuvers them without breaking a sweat. Once he's done disrupting the race, he leaves, again without a word.

Sonic gets a hold of himself right as Eggman finds him again. He seems shaken and the doctor asks smugly what's wrong. Sonic says he's been feeling . . . off lately, then angrily asks what Eggman's done to him.

But it's too late.

Eggman finally turns the mind control device up to full power. Sonic feels it immediately. He tries to fight back. He tries to resist. He tries to call his friends for help. But he can't. Sonic struggles, slowly get weaker and weaker as Eggman watches, a wicked smile on his face. Until finally, Sonic becomes still. His face becomes blank.

Eggman is in control.

[theresawritesstuff]

“Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?”

I've been trying to get this one right for a long time. I feel like I wrote the start of at least five different versions before this one... Thanks for being patient 😘

Denver, 1965

“That…” Lenny managed finally. “That is quite the bed.”

The pair of them had been standing at the end of the king sized, pillow laden beast of a mattress for God only knows how long. 

Just staring, bags in hand like a couple of idiots.

“Yes it is,” Midge agreed, equally dumbstruck. 

“The uh…” She cleared her throat. “The bookings were part of the tour deal. I guess they thought you were Mister Maisel.”

He nodded absently. “Happens.”

“They probably overbooked. Thought they were doing us a favor with the upgrade,” she reasoned.

“Probably…”

They'd been on tour together for about a week with Lenny as her opener. She still couldn't quite believe it but she was now the bigger name out of the two of them.

She understood the how and why. It was just a little hard to reconcile. It didn't feel like it should be real.

Not like this at least…

Then again nothing had truly felt real since that night in San Francisco.

One minute she's chain smoking in the alley, fighting for her life against a panic attack, the next her manager is marching back into that hell hole of a club only to drag Lenny out by his ear to check him into rehab.

But even after he got out and Susie managed to clean up some of his legal messes the clubs still wouldn't touch him on his own merits.

Which is where she came in.

She'd hoped it could be a way for her to repay some of the favors he'd done for her when she’d hit a career low. To show him he still had her support. That she still cared about him, deeply. 

She'd never once stopped caring about him. Never would.

She would always love him.

But they'd barely spoken. At least not anything of consequence.

He didn't seem to think they had much left to say…

“I’ll um… You should take it. I can sleep on the couch,” he offered, breaking himself away from the bed to set his suitcase by the dresser.

Before he got any ideas…

They'd had their share of falling into bed with each other over the years but with them working together now he didn't feel like he was in any position to assume.

She'd always been very clear about her feelings on mixing business with pleasure.

And they hadn't exactly been together anytime recently. Things change. She might not want him anymore. He wouldn't blame her.

Certainly not after she and Susie had basically dragged him out of the gutter.

He'd never wanted her to see him like that. To see that he was so far gone. That all was very much not well.

Living on opposite coasts had made it easier to hide. 

They'd written a few letters. Shared a couple of phone calls, but he'd never let on just how bad off he was. He could barely admit it to himself.

He didn't want her help.

She gave it to him anyway.

Thank god she was just as stubborn as he was.

“What couch?” Midge wondered.

He looked up, glancing around the room.

Mountain view. 

Bathroom.

Absurdly inviting bed…

Coffee table.

Two chairs.

No couch.

“Oh…” he blinked. “Well there were a few promising options in the lobby.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You're kidding.”

“No, they really did look quite comfortable. Nice plush upholstery.”

Midge rolled her eyes, setting her bag down. “I know Susie had to bail on this stop to take care of business in New York, but if she hears you slept in the lobby you and I both will never hear the end of it.” 

He let out a sigh, deflating. “You're probably right.”

“You know I'm right.”

He nodded tiredly, swiping a thoughtful hand over his mouth.

Her manager had put in a lot of effort trying to turn his image around.

Their manager, he corrected himself mentally.

He was still having a hard time coming to terms with that one. 

He wasn't used to representation that didn't hound him for payment at every turn.

Lenny looked around the room pensively, snapping his fingers towards the sitting area.

“Chair. Chair looks good.”

He sat down, curling his long frame up onto the seat, testing the theory.

Midge sat down on the edge of the bed across from him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “The chiropractor Susie hired to follow you around is gonna love that.”

“I've had worse,” he replied through a grimace he tried to pass off as a smirk.

A scoff of a laugh escaped her lips as she looked out the window at the storm brewing outside.

“This feels familiar…”

“How so?” he wondered, adjusting his position.

“The snow.” She gestured to the space between them. “You keeping a respectable distance.”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Seemed like the safe option.”

“Is it because I talk to my shoes? I don't do that in front of just anyone you know,” she quipped.

“Lucky me. Some guys would pay good money for that.” 

The chair reclined unexpectedly with a cartoonish clank of metal and springs beneath the seat, becoming even less comfortable than before.

“Lenny…”

“Hm?” he replied, attempting nonchalance.

“You've been avoiding me,” she informed him softly. “Care to tell me why?”

“I would not call going on tour together avoiding you,” he batted back lightly.

She waited patiently for his answer.

He huffed out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I've been trying to work out why it is that I'm here,” he admitted.

“Here as in the tour or more in a grand existential sense?”

To his noncommittal wave of a hand she replied “I needed an opener, you needed a job.”

“You felt compelled to fix my mess,” he corrected.

Midge blinked, her brow furrowing. “That's not–”

“I'm not angry,” he assured her, sitting up slowly. “I was for a little while, but that was more with myself than anything else. For giving you no other choice but to either turn your back or step in and try to put Humpty Dumpty back together.”

She shook her head, perplexed. “You needed help. We help each other. That's how we've always been.”

He smirked ruefully at the assertion. “I haven't been any help to you in a long time.”

Midge blinked.

She didn't have a comeback for that one.

“It's late,” he reminded her gently, stealing a decorative pillow from the other chair for his head. “You should try to get some rest.”

Her mouth set firmly as she looked back out the window, finding herself uncharacteristically speechless 

She wanted to argue. To remind him of everything they'd been through. To tell him exactly what seeing him at his lowest had done to her. What the thought of losing him had done…

But the words just wouldn't come.

Instead she got up from the bed, grabbing her night things from her suitcase to head for the bathroom to get changed.

Once she was alone she exhaled a shaky breath, gripping the sink tiredly.

She never asked Susie what it was she'd said to Lenny that night. 

Now she was starting to wish she had…

After a moment, she straightened up to get ready for bed, removing her earrings quickly then reaching around to unclasp her necklace.

Only it wouldn't budge.

She turned to look over her shoulder in the mirror, her fingers fumbling as the metal caught in the lace overlay of her dress.

The more she tried, the more tangled it became.

She begrudgingly turned to look at the door, weighing her options.

Fuck it. 

Pride hasn't done either of them any favors lately anyway.

“...Lenny?” she called out sheepishly.

“What?” 

She swallowed.

“I need your help.”

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his tie and jacket removed.

She gestured helplessly, giving it one more attempt on her own. “It's stuck.”

“Yes I can see that…” he chuckled. 

She shot him a look.

“Alright, hang on,” he assured her, holding up his hands in a truce.

He came up behind her slowly, standing close so that he could see what he was doing.

Midge stayed quiet, attempting to hold her hair out of his way, the gravity of his presence all too familiar a temptation.

“Need your reading glasses?” she teased, fighting to ignore the butterflies she felt as his fingers brushed incidentally along her neck.

Lenny smirked. “I'll manage, thank you. Your various clasps haven't beaten me yet.”

Like she needed the reminder…

“There,” he said in triumph after a moment, reaching around her to set the necklace on the edge of the sink.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

They stood frozen, neither one wanting to be the first to pull away.

“You, uh,” Lenny hesitated, wetting his lips. “You want help with the zipper too?”

Midge nodded, glancing over her shoulder up at him. “If you don't mind…”

He nodded in the mirror in lieu of reply.

His hand settled tentatively against her dress, one warm and steadying as the other slowly skimmed it's way down, sending a thrilling shiver along her spine.

“This was never about fixing you, you know,” she murmured quietly before he pulled away. “I don't… You're not broken. Not to me.”

“I'm a little broken, hate to break it to you,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

She took the hand still resting against her hip in her own, holding it fast.

“No more than I am.”

His eyes grew soft as he looked down at their entwined fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, turning to face him.

“Why did Susie really take me on?”

To her furrowed brow, he reasoned, “Don't get me wrong. The comedy comeback story is good, but if that had been the real reason she would have reached out way before San Francisco.”

Midge looked down at the floor between them, running her thumb softly along his.

“Because I needed her to,” she whispered.

“Why–”

“I couldn't live with the idea of a world without you in it,” she cut off, her voice hoarse with the threat of tears. “You don't love someone for half a decade and then just shrug and throw in the towel while they slowly kill themselves in front of you. And don't try to say that wasn't what was happening because you and I both know that–”

He reached out then, pulling her close as his lips collided with hers in a tender, searing kiss.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as he caressed her jaw, clinging to him, desperate to feel that it was real.

That he was still there, whole and steady, heart still beating beneath her fingertips, and not just a cherished memory.

He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead to hers. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the moisture from the corner of her eye. “Thank you for never giving up on me. You had every right to.”

“And a few very good reasons not to,” she reminded him.

He smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “So five years, hm?”

She bit back a laugh. “Give or take.”

He smirked. “I think I've got you beat.”

“Oh yeah?” she wondered. “By how much?”

He shrugged. “A bit.”

“Hm.” She nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully. “What do you propose we do about it?”

“Well, you did basically save my life by intervening in it. I suppose we can call it even,” he chuckled, arching a playful brow. “Why, did you have some other ideas?”

She took his hand in hers, pulling him gently towards the bedroom. “We can figure it out in the morning. Until then…Think you can still manage my show corset?”

He grinned, letting her lead. “One way to find out.”

She smiled as her dress slipped to the floor, taking his breath away before coming to reclaim his lips.

He wrapped her in his arms, savoring every inch of her as they stumbled to bed where she reminded him what it feels like to be truly alive.

And just how grateful they both were for it.

[your-local-simp-writers]

Silent Heroes

Word Count: 801

Warnings: Violence, mentions of assault Pavitr x Female!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ The night sky stretched above the city, casting a dark veil over its streets. The dimly lit alleys served as a haunting backdrop, as if concealing secrets within their shadows. In the heart of the chaos, Pavitr Prabhakar patrolled the neighborhood as the Spider-Man of India, ensuring the safety of his fellow citizens.

Tonight, however, his attention was captured by a figure standing alone at the bus stop. It was you, a young woman he had seen around before. A spark of recognition ignited within him as he remembered your warm smile, which seemed to hold a hint of hidden pain.

Curiosity compelled Pavitr to keep an eye on you. From a discreet distance, he watched as you boarded the bus, your eyes weary and your body tense. His spider-senses tingled, warning him that something was amiss. With determination, he decided to follow the bus, swinging from one web to another, his heart pounding with concern.

The bus came to a halt, and you stepped off, your footsteps echoing through the empty streets. Pavitr landed silently, a guardian angel in the darkness, as he trailed behind you. He noticed the subtle shifts in your body language, the way you glanced nervously over your shoulder.

As you reached a desolate corner, the peaceful silence shattered when a group of menacing figures emerged from the shadows. Fear consumed your eyes, and panic clawed at your throat. Pavitr's blood ran cold at the sight, his heart pounding in sync with your rapid breaths.

Without hesitation, he leaped into action. Webs shot from his wrists, ensnaring the attackers, temporarily restraining their violent intentions. Pavitr's fists flew with a practiced grace, each strike fueled by his determination to protect you. He fought not only for justice but also for the hope he saw in your eyes.

As the attackers retreated, you stumbled backward, gasping for air. Trembling, you met Pavitr's gaze, your eyes wide with astonishment and gratitude. You reached out, hesitantly grasping his hand for support, the connection grounding you in a world that had almost torn you apart.

Pavitr's grip tightened, his eyes mirroring the mix of emotions within you. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. The night had brought you face-to-face with terror, but it had also delivered an unexpected hero—one who had saved you from the darkness threatening to consume you.

Silently, Pavitr guided you away from the scene, leading you to a nearby bench. You sat down, the weight of the night's events settling heavily on your shoulders. Pavitr stood before you, his presence both comforting and reassuring.

"You're not alone," he whispered softly, his voice like a gentle breeze. "There are people who care, who will fight to keep you safe."

His words sank deep into your soul, washing away the residual fear. It was in that moment that the invisible walls you had built around yourself began to crumble. Pavitr had become your anchor, grounding you in a world where you had lost faith.

With a trembling hand, you reached out and touched Pavitr's masked cheek, feeling the warmth that radiated from within. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

A soft smile graced his lips as he covered your hand with his own. "It's what heroes do."

In that stolen moment, beneath the watchful gaze of the stars, a connection formed—a fragile thread of understanding and compassion that transcended words. It was a promise of hope, a testament to the indomitable spirit that could rise from the darkest of nights.

As the city slumbered, its heartbeat carried the whispers of your shared secret. You had found solace in the presence of a masked hero, and Pavitr had found a purpose—to protect and heal the wounds of a world that often seemed unforgiving.

Together, you would navigate the shadows, a silent alliance of two souls seeking solace in a world that so desperately needed heroes.