#note to self: don’t stay long at work events

[rebirthofartemis]

And that my friends is why I don’t go in the outside. With people from the inside places.

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[isaadore]

EVERYTHING YOU'VE WANTED NICO HISCHIER

pairing nico hischier x reader

SUMMARY you and nico have been close for years, but when his christmas plans begin to spiral out of control, you can't help but wonder if he's missing what's most important right in front of him. word count 1.8k

warnings pure fluff

note my first fic for "a nonsense christmas" event <3 requested by anon 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST NH13 MASTERLIST EVENT MASTERLIST

YOU'D THINK YOU'D be used to Nico’s holiday over-preparation by now, but each year, he somehow manages to one-up himself. This year, you’re sitting across from him in a cozy, bustling café, watching as snowflakes drift lazily through frosted windows. Nico’s leaning over a notepad filled with scribbled lists of gifts, decorations, and plans for get-togethers, his brow furrowed in the same concentration he usually reserves for games.

You lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of his list. “Is all that really necessary?” you ask, half-amused, half-astounded.

He looks up, a hint of a determined smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I want this Christmas to be special,” he says. It’s a line you’ve heard from him every year, and yet, each time, there’s a part of you that wonders if he means something more.

You smile, watching him go all out for everyone he cares about. Nico has always been the type to give so deeply that he sometimes overdoes it. Being his best friend, you get to see the side of him that no one else does: the quiet moments when he lets go of those expectations he piles onto himself, the way he seeks out solitude after a long day to recharge. You’re not sure when, but over the years, the admiration you felt for his big heart turned into something deeper, something harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to work so hard to make things special, you know?” you say, softening your voice. “People just want to be around you.”

He glances down, smirking as he takes in your words. “Easy for you to say,” he counters, his voice playful but with a touch of sincerity. “I’m not great at just… being there and doing nothing.”

You shake your head, smiling at his stubbornness. “You don’t need to do anything. You’re already enough just as you are.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he looks back down at his list, but not before you catch the soft smile tugging at his lips. Your heart races a little, but you try to brush it off, focusing on the chatter of people around you and the smell of peppermint drifting in the air.

Nico breaks the silence. “So, what’s the plan?” he asks, tapping his pen against the list.

“Apparently, you have it all covered,” you tease, but inside, a part of you wonders if this year might be different. If there might finally be room for the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. “But maybe ease up on the holiday party planning? You know, just enjoy being around people.”

He smirks again, shifting in his seat, and you swear there’s a hint of something in his gaze when he looks back up. “What about you? Don’t you want something a little extra?”

The question is innocent enough, but it catches you off guard. “Me? I guess… I just want things to feel real. Not forced,” you reply honestly. It’s not the full truth, but close enough. Nico knows you well enough to read between the lines, but if he senses the unspoken feelings, he doesn’t let on.

“You always make things sound so simple,” he says, his voice quieter. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m just making it all too complicated.”

You sip your coffee, choosing your next words carefully. “Sometimes. But it’s okay to let things happen on their own.”

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, clearly a bit self-conscious. “Not exactly my strong suit,” he admits. “Guess that’s why I’m always making lists.”

As the afternoon wears on, the café around you fills with laughter and cheerful chatter, and yet, every now and then, Nico glances up, his gaze lingering on you just a beat too long. It’s these moments that stay with you, the feeling that he’s close but still somehow just out of reach. You’ve been friends forever, childhood best friends with enough shared history to write novels, and yet… here you are, still feeling the thrill of every accidental brush of his hand.

When it’s time to leave, you pull on your coat and wrap your scarf around your neck, bracing yourself for the chilly walk home. Just as you’re about to say goodbye, Nico pauses, glancing back over his shoulder like he’s been holding something back.

“Hey, I’ve got the tree up at home, but it’s still bare,” he says, almost shyly. “Think you could help me decorate it?”

You try to hide your excitement and nod casually. “Of course. Can’t let you take on all the work alone.”

His place is quiet and warm when you get there, the faint scent of pine filling the room. Boxes of ornaments are scattered around, each one holding memories from past Christmases. You pull out a few decorations, laughing as you remember the year he bought a massive Santa figurine and insisted on displaying it proudly, despite your protests that it was overkill.

He chuckles, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Guess I have a habit of going overboard.”

“Maybe just a little,” you reply, nudging him gently.

At one point, Nico pulls out a small, handmade ornament, a little snowflake you recognize immediately. You gave it to him when you were kids, and you’d nearly forgotten about it. A little embarrassed, you watch as he hangs it carefully, a fond smile on his face.

“Didn’t know you still had that,” you murmur.

“Of course. It’s always been one of my favourites,” he replies, his voice sincere.

You fall into a comfortable rhythm, working together in that easy way you always have. You lose track of time, your arms brushing now and then as you reach for ornaments or adjust the lights, each accidental touch leaving you a bit breathless. Eventually, you step back to admire your work, the tree aglow with soft lights casting a warm ambiance.

“Thanks for staying to help,” he says, his voice soft, gaze lingering on you. “I don’t know why, but this year feels… different.”

You nod, feeling a subtle shift in the air between you. “Maybe because it’s just us. It feels more… real somehow.”

He hesitates like he’s weighing his words. “Maybe that’s all I needed, just to be with the people who matter most.” His words hang in the air, full of unspoken meaning. You wonder if he realizes what he’s implying, but before you can respond, he lets out a soft laugh, as if trying to shake off the tension. “But don’t tell the team I said that.”

Your heart flutters, and you smile, the tension fading but still there, humming beneath the surface. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He meets your gaze, and for a moment, everything else fades: the tree, the lights, the ornaments scattered around. It’s just him and you, standing close in the quiet. Nico shifts, looking away as if gathering his thoughts. “You know… for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment. “Me too.”

You both stand there, taking in the sight of the glowing tree, the lights casting soft shadows that dance across the room. The warmth in the air is almost tangible, settling between you in a way that feels heavy and electric. You glance over at Nico, finding him already looking at you with an expression that’s softer, and more vulnerable than you’ve seen before.

He takes a small step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His hand reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek gently. Your heart began to race. The touch lingers, warm and grounding, and you feel his thumb lightly trace along your jaw as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“Nico…” you whisper, his name catching on your breath, barely audible.

His gaze deepens, the soft determination you’ve come to know so well flickering in his eyes. “I don’t know why it took me this long,” he murmurs, voice low, almost as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “But I think… maybe you always knew.”

There’s a raw honesty in his voice that leaves you feeling exposed like he’s stripped away every wall you’ve put up. You nod, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I think I did. But I was scared… scared of ruining what we have.”

He leans in closer, his eyes searching yours with a look that’s both questioning and certain like he’s seeking permission while already knowing the answer. His hand holds your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin, and you feel your heart pounding. The world around you began fading into the background.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, each word sending a thrill through you.

Then, slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft at first, a tentative brush, but the warmth and familiarity between you quickly deepen it. His hand slips around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he melts into the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle yet undeniable intensity.

You wrap your arms around him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his sweater, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. The kiss grows deeper, both of you giving in to the years of unspoken feelings and all the moments you held back. There’s a warmth that spreads through you, a feeling of home, and for the first time, you allow yourself to believe that this is real, that he wants this as much as you do.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he gazes down at you. His hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over your skin, and his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes you feel like the only person in the world.

He lets out a quiet, almost nervous laugh, glancing away briefly before looking back at you with a hint of that familiar shyness. “Guess I don’t need to plan so much anymore, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a mix of relief and happiness.

You smile, reaching up to rest your hand over his. “Maybe just one more plan, for us.”

He nods, his hand slipping down to entwine with yours, and you feel his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. The world outside is quiet, the glow of the tree casting a soft light around you. As you stand there together, you realize that this, right here with him, is exactly where you've always wanted to be on Christmas.

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[heartofwritiing]

home is wherever you are tonight

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

summary: its your birthday, a day you dread every year due to bad memories, and wilbur manages to change your mindset.

authors note: this has been sitting in my drafts since march and i forgot about it oops. this is completely self indulgent. Ive dreaded my birthday for the past five years because of personal reasons… i thought maybe writing a non-shitty fake birthday would make me feel better so, it did lol. enjoy!! :)

warnings: self indulgent, mentions of childhood trama, negative past events, mentions of toxic family, fluff, Wilbur being the cutest-best boyfriend, hurt-comfort, yes the title is a lyric from a lizzy mcalpine song.. unedited!

The day had come. the day you dreaded every year for as long as you could remember. it was your birthday.

Most people would be elated about turning another year older, to celebrate but not you. Instead, it filled you with utter disinterest and resentment. To you, it was just another day on the calendar.

Ever since you could remember you’ve just hated your birthday. Each year just felt like they got worse and worse with the number of times You had been let down. Whether it was by family drama or people just forgetting. It was the same every year. So when you finally moved away from your toxic relatives you pretty much forget about it. Only remembering when you'd get a text from your parents to wish you a happy birthday. At least they remembered now that you were gone...

You were relieved when no one at work had brought it up. you never really talked to your coworkers about your personal life, you weren't that type of person. Still, you were grateful the only attention you got today was from one of your peers Matt, asking about the printer in the office not working right.

When you walked into your flat, what you weren’t expecting was too see your boyfriend standing near the door waiting for you.

“why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” Wilbur asks in a slightly offended tone.

The front door hasn’t even shut yet and he’s caught you completely off guard with his question. Your heart drops in your stomach.

“hello to you too,” you snort, putting your bag down and sliding your jacket off. "And how'd you even know?" Avoiding the question. Cause that will make this better.

he sighs.

“Answer the question please, love,”

You’re toeing off the uncomfortable shoes you were required to wear at your job as you blankly bink back at him.

You can tell by the frowned expression on his face that he wasn’t just gonna let you drop this anytime soon. His arms are crossed over his sweater, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his curls fall around his eyes.

“maybe because it's not a big deal,” you shrugged. Wilbur stops you with a hand on your shoulder before you can escape to your shared room. It wasn't forceful but gentle, his eyes asking you to stay, talk, anything. You just wanted to go to bed and sleep until your shift tomorrow and just forget about this whole day.

"What do you mean by that?" he asks. "I don't particularly like my birthday but still celebrate with friends, family, and loved ones."

There it was.

You wanted to avoid this.

"Look, I don't want to pressure you into talking about this, you can tell me when you're ready. I can tell how uncomfortable you got when I asked you outright why you didn't say anything about it being your birthday, I'm sorry..."

You could tell he was just confused and who could blame him. You had only been dating for about a year and finally moved in together last month. He didn't want to pressure you into anything you weren't ready for, which was one of the many things you adored about him. Always so patient and thoughtful about your feelings and well-being.

There was no avoiding it now as he asked the question. Your heart beating in your ears.

“Why don’t you like your birthday, love?”

“well…” you began, but you could feel the lump in your throat forming as you thought carefully how to put it. You clear your throat and take a deep breath. “I just, have a lot of trauma revolving around today,”

Wilbur has moved slowly towards you now, almost like you were a spooked animal and he was trying to calm you. He listened carefully as you spoke slowly.

“my parents fought a lot growing up, and even on my birthday they just didn’t seem to care, even for one day, so i mostly spent my birthdays alone.”

The look in his eyes says it all. He feels so heartbroken for you. You collapsed into his chest and he wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you firmly and you felt the weight in your chest fading.

"Well listen, I got you your favorite type of cake, a good bottle of wine, not that cheap shit, the really nice one we liked. we're gonna sit on the couch and eat, and you can tell me all about your day." he pauses only to bring your face out from his chest to look you in your eyes. "and then, we're gonna cuddle and I'm gonna tell you how much I love and appreciate you."

With that, he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs and kisses your nose softly. You swear that press of his lips was what made you cave. You began to break down in front of him.

Wilbur's hands seem to be the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. If he wasn't holding you, you were sure you would have fallen to your knees by now. You sob silently as you take his wrists in your hands but don't remove them from your cheeks. The intensity of the long work day and all the recurring memories this day brought you every year, combined with Wilbur's sweet gestures and words made you break.

You felt everything come down on you all at once, yet there Wilbur was, always waiting for you at the end of the day. Always there to comfort you and support you. So these weren’t sad tears no, they were happy tears. Finally, you found someone who cherished you and cared for you enough.

-

@trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @highstonedcat

[h-didanart]

Bloodmoon in dresses collection, round 2!

You thought I was done? So did I, but! Inspiration came back! And so I will now kick off the second round of this blog’s Bloodmoon in dresses collection.

One thing to note is that there are new participants, Bloodmoons from other aus that I hadn’t thought of for a while until someone (*coughs* @achickennamedcheese) asked me how many Bloodmoons I have. They are all here though, and they look rather dashing.

Starting us off, Magical Bloodmoon; Harvest Moon and Sturgeon Moon.

They didn’t need to look too far to find their dress, they already had one! Sure it was a skirt and some cool clothes but it’d still work. On top of that they could flaunt their cool shape shifting powers and they cool shape shifting weapon, so why wouldn’t they go for it? Might as well upstage everyone else in this whole damn place

They are having a lot of fun with this.

Next up, someone who you guys might not recognize on account of me not drawing or talking about them in so long. God of Doom Bloodmoon; Adaptation.

Adaptation himself has absolutely zero control over how Morpho decides to present them, so they didn’t particularly care when the butterfly put them in a dress. He did care when the winged death bringer pushed him to the front and basically let them run around and do whatever. He might be a bit self conscious now, but who is he to deny some time to hangout with their twin and the many other versions of themselves that are in that place?

There’s not enough red in his opinion

Last newcomer! I present to you, the amnesiac twins; Ruby and Vermillion.

Unlike around 99.8% of Bloodmoons, Ruby and Vermillion aren’t very close. Waking up so suddenly with no knowledge of anything or anyone and then learning that there’s someone else in their head was a very bad first impression for one another about each other. They both differ on tastes and likes greatly and don’t have much to bond over besides their dislike for the old them. It comes as no surprise then that they’d have trouble choosing something to wear for this event. On one hand Ruby just grabbed whatever he could and called it a day, making Vermillion feel very bad at the asymmetry of it all; on the other Vermillion chose stuff that makes sense and forms a cohesive color palette on top of being comfy, but Ruby absolutely hates the textures.

We can only hope those two come to an understanding at some point.

And finally, to wrap up this post we have the second design for one of the swap Bloodmoons; Fang.

Fang didn’t know what to do for the second round. Fang could steal from the Sun-man again, but didn’t want to, Fang wanted to stay with the other Others. So Fang had to think about what to do that wouldn’t require to go outside. Fang remembered that together with Scythe they usually had a combination of clothes that had a skirt, so Fang decided to wear the clothes the twins would wear together.

Sadly Fang cannot put the hood on

And that’s all for today! Dunno when I’ll be back, but thanks for dropping by, bye!

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

[mori-does-sw]

CLONE CRUSHES: DOGMA

PAIRING \ Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader SYNOPSIS \ How Dogma behaves when he has a crush on you. WARNING(S) \ A teensy bit of angst. AUTHOR'S NOTE \ It has come to my attention that I forgot to include Dogma when I wrote the Torrent Company headcanons, and I can now definitively say: My bad. I wrote it as a mini-project while I work on some bigger things. Stay tuned!

If you thought that Rex was awkward, Dogma is so much worse. All of his more-than-platonic thoughts about you are filtered through enough layers of self-repression and self-consciousness that his cuteness aggression turns into passive-aggression.

In truth, Dogma is fascinated by you. 

Raised in Kamino, he doesn’t have much reference for how normal people live other than the very essentials that flash-training taught him. When you offer to show him and his vode where to find those holovids you like so much, what your favorite things to read are; little things like tooka cafés or street musicians or stealing the free paint chips in hardware stores, he’s overwhelmed. But he likes it.

A little too much.

He isn’t sure what you’re doing to him, isn’t sure if he’s okay with it or not, and proceeds to shut down almost entirely the moment you start giving him Feelings™. You’ll be having a perfectly normal conversation and, the moment you accidentally touch or smile at him too brightly, he’ll just disengage. Any attempt to continue speaking will be met with grunts, and the minute you turn your back he’ll run away.

Every interaction with Dogma feels timed, but you can never decipher how long you have on the clock. It’s no wonder that, with his strange behavior, you’re completely at a loss when it comes to his feelings for you—no idea how much you mean to him.

Ironically, he’s very much like a cat. He’s only comfortable being close when you aren’t paying attention to him. If you’re working, he’ll bring you the holopads you need or fetch you a ration bar if you decide to skip eating. He tends to stick near to you at large events or in a crowd, keeping an eye on you even as your presence reassures him.

He’s secretly fond of being in the same space as you. You don’t have to talk or even acknowledge him, just being able to listen to you relax or do your tasks makes him happy.

While it’s true that Dogma’s actions are more effective at making you confused than getting his interest across, your positive reactions help him gain confidence. A little patience with him goes a long way.

Eventually he’ll come to terms with the fact that he wants you, and that he wants you to want him back.

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Glamrock Freddy Through The Ball-pit AU

It’s a twist on GlamMike, time-travel fix-it, cc lives blah blah so on and so forth. It’s long so it’s under the cut :)

At some point after Security Breach (the Vanny ending where he gets disassembled) Glamrock Freddy falls into a decommissioned ball-pit an a storage room. His AI is tuned into a light blue lightning bolt charm and lands on the other side.

About a week before the cc(Evan)’s bday party, Michael(13) is in the ball pit and finds the Freddy AI charm. He sticks it on a string and wears it cuz he thinks it looks cool.

Freddy in the charm works sort of like a ghost and Mike starts hearing random whispers of Freddy throughout the week leading up to the party. Over that week, Freddy is working on where he is and how he can communicate with Michael.

Freddy has been catching glimpses of the outside world through Mike’s eyes through the week, but never tried to take control until Evan’s head was about to be shoved into Fredbear’s mouth. Recognizing the danger, Freddy shoves his way to the front and takes control of Mike’s body.

Freddy stays in control until that night, keeping an eye on Evan(7). Mike freaks out when he finally has control back and locks himself in his room to figure out what the heck happened to him. Mike and Freddy talk a lot over about a week in self imposed isolation.

The events of FNAF 4 (Evan’s nightmares) happen the week after the prevented Bite of ‘83 while Mike had locked himself in his room. It’s actually his terrified screaming that draws Mike/Freddy out. By then the two have come to a shaky agreement to share control of their body and try (mostly Freddy) to comfort Evan.

With Freddy’s influence, Mike is nicer to his siblings. The kid is influenced a lot by the people he hangs out with, becoming a bully with his bully friends (who don’t talk to him much after “he chickened out”), then being kinder with Freddy in copilot seat.

Evan is around them the most, ever since they helped him with his nightmares. He can easily tell the difference between Michael and Freddy. Freddy is more upbeat and wears brighter colors, while Mike is quieter and prefers darker colors.

Freddy doesn’t really know much about the history of Fazbear Entertainment so he’s not much help with any future perspective. Mike(Freddy) can occasionally be heard humming or singing songs that haven’t come out yet though.

Charlie Emily(11) is killed a couple months after the foiled bite, locked out of her own birthday party. She goes on to inhabit the puppet.

Elizabeth dies about a year later at Circus Baby’s at 9 years old. She haunts Baby.

Over the next year, William kills five kids and stuffs them in the suits, his Remnant research underway.

When Mike turns 16, they take a now 10 year old Evan and run. William had been distant ever since Elizabeth “disappeared” and Freddy is suspicious. It isn’t hard to convince Michael that he could take better care of the brothers away from the Afton house. They hole up in an empty house on the outskirts of Hurricane, ruling out Henry Emily on the basis that William would look there first if he went searching for them.

Freddy takes driver seat a lot of the time, getting Mike a job at the nearest grocery store. He also helps Mike homeschool Evan.

Mike gets his first Freddy job at 17 in ‘87(fnaf 2). There he meets Jeremy Fitzgerald(19) who is working day shift and needs a place to stay. Freddy thoroughly vets him before they offer him a room at their house.

Freddy tells Jeremy to be careful around the animatronics. Jeremy is still bit, but it’s his shoulder and he promptly resigns, picking up a different job as a pizza delivery boy to pay for the motorcycle he wants.

When the pizzeria closes, not long after the bite, Mike starts searching for William while going back to the grocery store.

When Mike is 24 (‘94), he sneaks back into the Afton house and finds suspicious notes about the Sister Location. He gets a job there.

Freddy is unable to stop them from being scooped, but due to being fused with his AI for so long, Mike isn’t as affected by Ennard. He’s still missing some organs, he’ll never age past 24, and there’s no way he’ll be eating ever again; but he doesn’t decay and is able to eventually heal, it just takes more time than is normal. He’s covered in bandages for almost a whole year after that incident.

A few years later (‘96) Evan takes the night shift at Freddy’s Pizzeria (fnaf 1), and later (‘97) Mike takes one at Fazbear Frights (fnaf 3).

Mike does take the job at the Pizzeria Simulator (fnaf 6) which I’m setting closer to the early 2000s (‘04 maybe?). He takes the exit route Henry has left open and returns to Evan and Jeremy with Helpy in tow.

Security Breach is set closer to 2010-15. Freddy isn’t sure how he feels seeing his former self on stage again, especially as he’s explained to Mike that they need to find Gregory before Vanny does. Mike is pissed the pizzeria fire didn’t end William like they thought it did.

Gregory goes through the night with them and the animatronic Freddy, going home with them while the Pizza Plex burns down.

Other random notes:

Freddy pushes their hair out of their face, often pinning it back, while Mike tends to let it flop in their face. Freddy has been known to pull it into two little ponytails and call them his bear ears

Mike already had his ears pierced, but Freddy got one more to match the one he had as an animatronic.

Mike is nearsighted and needs glasses, but Freddy doesn’t so Mike refuses to get glasses, instead having Freddy read anything far away if he needs to.

Mike’s eyes are blue-grey, when Freddy is driving his eyes turn an electric blue. The glow in the dark slightly.

The Freddy’s charm glows blue very faintly when he’s talking to Mike when not in control.

They randomly twitch and stutter, due to one of them being a robot. Mike tries to hide or suppress it most of the time, but Freddy doesn’t bother with hiding it.

Mike chews gum almost constantly, to distract from the fact he can’t eat, and so he doesn’t chew on their nails (painted electric blue and black).

All the Aftons are neurodivergent. Evan’s autistic, Elizabeth had ADHD, and Michael is AuDHD. Haven’t decided on William yet but he ain’t neurotypical.

Mike has a different mother than his younger two siblings, and he’s half Mexican. His mom is never mentioned (she didn’t die, just left after Mike was born cuz she didn’t want kids) and Ballora is made for William’s second wife, Clara.

Mike is 5’9”, Evan ends up being 6’0”, and Jeremy is 5’11”.

Mike doesn’t physically or mentally age after being scooped, but it takes them a while to figure that out since Freddy’s never aged in the first place.

Evan has glasses.

Mike always refuses to wear the black pants that comes with the security guard outfit, instead wearing his trademark hole-y jeans.

While they both dislike being shorter than Evan, Mike sees it as one thing he doesn’t have in common with William. Freddy just sees it as a hindrance in reaching the top shelf.

Jeremy is a gay trans dude, and has a mullet and dyslexia.

Mike is queer ace. Freddy’s doesn’t particularly care about any of that(being an AI), and they use He/Him and They/Them pronouns because they’re two guys in one body. They also tend to refer to themselves as ‘we’.

Evan’s aroace. He’d much rather figure out the secrets behind his father’s robots.

That’s the scoop!

[vodika-vibes]

i was rereading some of your tup works and figured i'd drop in another request for your follower event!! i’ve been reading some horror stuff lately so what about something where reader (gender neutral) is like a type of eldritch horror monster please?

the reader would be something tall and shadowy-like with super long fingers/claws and sharp teeth with a long tongue. and tup is just himself, a normal guy?

like the reader and tup fall in love, so tup wants to introduce his partner to his brothers. the rest of the 501st are shocked, but also not really surprised lol

just something cute and romantic and funny please!! absolutely no rush at all for this btw

Monsterous Love

Summary:  Tup loves you and while you’re not sure why, you don’t doubt his affection for you. So when he says that he wants to introduce you to his brothers, you agree.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Tup x GN!Reader

Prompt: The reader in an interdimensional eldritch being

Word Count: 1628

Warnings: None, really

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

@bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98

A/N: So I'm not sure if I hit what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway!

Tup is staring at you.

He almost always stares at you; if you were anyone else, you’d probably be self-conscious about how much he stares at you. 

You tilt your head and regard him curiously, “You are staring.” You note absently.

“I can’t help it,” Tup replies immediately, “You’re perfect.”

You tilt your head in the other direction, “I exist simultaneously on every plane of existence, including the past and the future. And I have an incredibly difficult time staying in a humanoid form.”

Tup’s smile is love-struck, “Like I said, perfect.”

“You are a singularly strange human man.”

He laughs and you can feel your human-ish facade ripple before it settles again, though you’re fairly certain that pastel blue isn’t a normal human shade…well, not in this reality at least.

You squint at your hand and the color turns to a pale purple. The color makes you happy, so you leave it there for the time being.

“Strange in a good way, right?” Tup asks, his grin broad.

“If I thought you strange in a bad way I would not have saved you from the…things.”

“The Kaminoans?” Tup asks, laughter in his voice.

“Is that what they are called? I forgot.”

Tup stands and walks over to you, and you release a surprised noise when he allows himself to fall on you.

Your human form pops, like a soap bubble, and you revert to your true form. It’s hard to describe, as your form changes based on your needs, but your truest form is shadowy. With sharp teeth and long claws.

Also, according to Tup, you’re very soft and comfortable to lay on.

You wrap your arms around him, careful to keep your claws away from his delicate skin, and you release an embarrassing purr as he buries his face in your neck.

“I have an idea,” Tup says cheerfully.

It is difficult to speak in this form, long teeth are not designed for human speech, but you have more than one way to communicate. Is it a good idea? Or is this like the idea you had where you wanted me to raze Kamino to the ground? You ask.

“That was a good idea.” Tup defends as he trails his hands over your shoulders. “Which is why you did it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, You are a horrible influence.

He probably shouldn’t look so smug about that, right? Is it not right that a human should be able to influence an ancient, eternal being? Right? Ah, whatever.

“I want to introduce you to my brothers. And the General.”

You slowly blink at him as you adjust your claws so that you’re less likely to hurt him, and you start playing with his curls, Do your brothers not think that you are dead, Tup?

He shrugs, “I miss them. Besides, Dogma already knows about you.”

That is because I intervened to save his life.

“And I love you for that. Just like I love you for intervening to save Fives and Hardcase.”

You’re still not sure why you did that, honestly. Other than you don’t like the look that Tup gets when he hears about his many brothers dying.

If that is what you want, then we can make it happen. You finally say, not wanting to think too hard about the influence he has on you. Your form shifts back into a more human form, though you’re still a bit taller than Tup, “However, I am going in a human form.”

He huffs and reaches up to press his hands against your cheeks, “I want them to know the real you.”

“This form of me is as real as all of the other ones.” You point out, “I…do not want to cause them any distress.”

His gaze softens, and you can feel adoration radiating from him before he leans in and kisses you. Tup pulls back after a few moments, his hands still pressed against your cheeks, “I love you and I love that you want to make sure that they’re comfortable. But they love me and will accept you no matter what.”

“I am not so sure.”

“Trust me.”

You blow out a heavy breath and allow your form to shift back into your normal form, They might assume that I will hurt you.

“You never have.” He presses his forehead against yours, “And it would be so easy for you to do so. So, will you do it?”

I suppose I will.

“Yes!” He kisses you again and again, and you marvel, once again, that he seems unbothered by your monstrous form. He really is so strange. “Are you ready to go?”

Wait? Now?

“Yes. Now. Before you change your mind.”

Stubborn mortal— Still you shift to a more human form, standing a little taller than Tup, and you lightly push him to his feet, “As you like, Tup.”

He beams at you and takes your hand. “Great! Now, how do I get to Coruscant from here?”

You shake your head. Here, of course, is the house of mystery. The plane of existence that you call home, and also where Tup calls home now. “You still haven’t learned?”

“This House exists in every reality all at the same time, how am I supposed to learn it?” Tup asks cheerfully.

You shake your head and tug him down a hallway. You take three lefts, a right, and then two more lefts, before you open a door that leads to the Coruscant of his reality. “See. Easy.”

“I’m fairly certain that you’re the only person who thinks that.”

You tilt your head, “Oh?”

“Not everyone exists everywhere all of the time.” Tup teases as he cups your face and pulls you down into a kiss. It’s not a long kiss as neither of you are overly fond of PDA, and Tup is eager to introduce you to his brothers.

For all that you’re an interdimensional being, you don’t actually know Coruscant, so Tup is more than happy to guide you to the lift that will bring you up a couple of levels.

You’re surprised when Tup brings you to the 501st barracks. Surprised because it’s a lot more rundown than you expected based on some of the stories he’s told you.

“...I believe that mold has gained sentience,” you note as he leads you inside and through a hallway lined with black mold.

“Eh, it’s fine. Probably.”

“I also believe that is it toxic.”

Tup shrugs, “Probably. We’re just clones, babe. It’s not that big a deal.”

You blink at the back of his head, “Tup. If you want me to raze Coruscant to ashes, this is the way to go about it.”

He stops suddenly and bursts into laughter.

“I am not so sure why you find this funny.”

Tup turns and pulls you into a quick kiss, “I love you, that’s all.”

“I am fond of you as well. But I am also unsure how my comment caused this.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a human thing.” He kisses your hands, and then tugs you into a large room, “Hey Cap!”

The room, which had been filled with lots of noise, falls silent at Tup’s voice.

“Tup?” A blonde man that you vaguely recognize as Rex says in disbelief, “You’re alive? And here?”

“Yup.”

“How?” Fives demands, “You killed a Jedi. I definitely remember that happening.”

“The situation is complicated and also not my fault.” Tup motions to you, “Everyone, meet my cyare. You can just call them cyare.”

“I do not think that that is an appropriate nickname—”

“They won’t be able to say your actual name, babe. Human tongues aren’t designed to make those sounds. Cyare is perfect for you.”

“If you insist.”

“I do!” Tup beams at you and then turns back to his brothers, “Cyare saved me. They’re amazing.” He pauses, “They’ve also saved all of you on more the one occasion.”

The room falls silent and all eyes turn to you. “You are overstating, Tup.”

“I’m not.” He squeezes your hand, “Go on babe, show them.”

“I still do not think that this is a good idea.” You want, though you release his hand and allow your human form to fade away into your true form, You are lucky that I am so fond of you.

“I am lucky you’re so fond of me,” Tup agrees with an adoring smile, “This is cyare’s true form.” He says to his brothers, “They’re an interdimensional eldritch being.”

The room is quiet for a moment, and then Dogma, at the back of the room, releases a laugh, “Yeah, this doesn’t surprise me.”

“Somehow,” Rex agrees, “This makes total sense.”

“I told you they’d be fine with you,” Tup says with a grin.

There must be something wrong with your DNA. You are all very, very strange men. You counter as you settle on the floor, But, I suppose this does make me claiming you all as my mortals a little easier.

“But I’m your favorite mortal, right?” Tup asks.

You sigh heavily, Yes, Tup. You’re my favorite mortal. You release a disgruntled noise as he leans heavily against you. Not that you can’t support him, but you’re not an armrest.

Still, as Tup leans fully against you, his arms tight around you, while he answers questions about you and him and the life you share, a sense of peace settles over you.

This is okay. More than okay. 

Tup might think that you’re perfect, but he’s the one who took one look at an eldritch monster and decided, “Yes, that’s the one I want.” so in your book, he’s the perfect one.

Now you just have to make sure that no one will every hurt your mortals ever again.

Easy.

[mariacallous]

Celeste Borys and Kira Lynch don’t leave the house much these days. When they do venture into their small Utah communities—to go grocery shopping, to take their kids to school or the playground—neighbors whisper and stare. “I’ve had people take pictures and videos of me, and I've had someone come up and yell at me,” Lynch says. “Someone at my daughter’s junior high told me to keep my mouth shut and called me some bad names. It’s terrifying.”

“I don’t leave unless I have to,” says Borys. “My day-to-day life doesn’t exist.”

The man whose followers scorn and harass them seems to have no such problems. Long a household name in conservative Mormon circles, Tim Ballard has become nationally known in recent years: He’s the former operative for Homeland Security who says he became so alarmed during the Obama administration by the government’s supposed inaction on child sex trafficking that he decided to go out and fight it on his own, recruiting other true believers to join him on dramatic sting operations in dangerous places, later serving as cochair of the Trump administration’s advisory council on trafficking and ultimately inspiring the heavily fictionalized film Sound of Freedom based on Operation Underground Railroad (OUR), the anti-trafficking organization he founded. (The organization now goes by the name OUR Rescue.)

Ballard is also a defendant in ongoing civil lawsuits in Utah brought by women—Borys and Lynch among them—who allege that he sexually abused them under the guise of saving children. Borys and Lynch have filed police reports regarding their allegations that Ballard sexually assaulted them; Ballard has denied the claims made against him. OUR, which is mentioned in one of the suits, has countersued Borys and her husband.

“This is just a bunch of random details, gossip, and easily disproven falsehoods packaged up to generate some quick clicks,” Ballard’s spokesperson Chad Kolton wrote in response to a request for comment; he also notes that the claims against Ballard in a separate suit have been dismissed. That suit was brought by a veteran Marine who said she was injured at a training overseen by Ballard; a judge ruled she did not have standing to bring it because she had signed a waiver.

While Borys and Lynch mostly stay at home, talking to their families, each other, and their lawyers, Ballard, when not defending himself by claiming he’s the victim of a shakedown, makes regular appearances at high-profile Republican events. He showed up at the Conservative Political Action Conference in February. In March, he joined a Catholic event at Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort alongside Roger Stone and Michael Flynn. In April, Mar-a-Lago hosted a fundraiser for the Ballard Family Legal Defense Fund. At the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee this summer, he sat for an interview with Trump’s former lawyer, Rudy Giuliani. “The leftist agenda is almost verbatim the pedophile agenda,” said Ballard, grim-faced beneath a cap bearing the logo of Aerial Recovery, a self-described disaster relief and anti-trafficking group with which he now works. “You’ve got supporters here, Tim,” Giuliani told Ballard, adding, a moment later, “Pretty soon, you’re going to have one in the strongest and most powerful position in the world.”

All of this is fairly shocking to Lynch and Borys, who worked with Ballard at OUR. Just last summer, Borys says, she was by Ballard’s side as he crisscrossed Capitol Hill, meeting with Republican legislators about human trafficking and reveling with them in the success of Sound of Freedom, which brought in around $250 million in global ticket sales. “Those people know my face,” she says. “I was in those meetings and on phone calls and texting different people in the congressional world.” By fall, it emerged that Ballard and OUR had parted ways months before, following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees had made against him. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a longtime supporter of Ballard, publicly rebuked him for “morally unacceptable” behavior. And in the fall of 2023, accusers filed the first set of lawsuits against Ballard. Yet Ballard’s star on the Trumpist right never dimmed.

“They know what’s going on with him right now,” Borys says. “For them to ignore it but then to promote him, it’s so disgusting to me.”

Lynch met Ballard in 2021, when she was giving him a haircut. She’d seen Sound of Freedom in an early preview but at the time didn’t realize that she was cutting the hair of the man on whose life it was loosely based. All she knew was that he was famous.

“I’m kind of a big deal,” she remembers him telling her; he was taken aback and even offended that she didn’t know more about him. He told her, she says, about the amazing things he did and how children were saved by his operations.

“He’s talking about children and sex slavery,” she says. “I’m a mother of four. I’m like, ‘Oh my gosh.’ I got sucked in right that second.”

When Ballard asked if she wanted to get involved in his mission, Lynch says, she enthusiastically agreed. She had just gone through a crushing divorce, and her father was dying of a brain tumor. Lynch was, she says, “desperate for something to come along and help me spiritually.” Lynch says that Ballard told her that he was close friends with M. Russell Ballard, a high-ranking member of the LDS Church’s second-highest governing body, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

OUR was a powerhouse long before Sound of Freedom appeared in theaters, raising millions of dollars in donations every year from devoted fans. The group’s exploits were frequently exaggerated. At the White House and in op-eds, for example, Ballard told the story of how the group had helped rescue a teenage girl who was trafficked from Mexico to New York and forced into sex work for several years, citing the story as evidence of the need for a border wall; at one point, he said the group had helped her “escape her hell.” In fact, according to court records, the girl rescued herself and didn’t come into contact with OUR until well after she’d escaped her captors.

Additionally, as early as 2020, a letter was circulating in philanthropic circles in Utah accusing Ballard of misconduct toward women. OUR denied everything: In a statement to Vice News at the time, an OUR spokesperson wrote, “OUR categorically denies the baseless allegations made in the anonymous letter shared with Vice. The OUR board of directors received the letter 12 months ago and, after a thorough investigation, found zero evidence to corroborate the allegations contained in the letter.”

In Lynch’s community, Ballard was still regarded as a hero. Members of her family, she says, were fans of Ballard’s; her mother gasped in excitement when she learned that Lynch had just done his hair, and showed her a shelf full of books that Ballard had written. “They were all praising him to the roof,” Lynch says. “Automatically, that put me in a very safe place with him in my head.”

Ballard’s books, several of which were published by an LDS Church–owned imprint and promoted by the conservative influencer Glenn Beck, contributed a great deal to his fame and followed two tracks. On one, he lays out supposed ties between figures from American history like George Washington and Mormonism. On the other, he positions himself as a modern-day abolitionist, part of a line with Harriet Tubman. One book, Operation Toussaint, is an adaptation of a documentary showing Ballard and his associates carrying out paramilitary work in Haiti. Missions like this were the basis of Ballard’s image as the leader of an elite group of operators doing the work governments didn’t dare and wresting sex slaves from the hands of traffickers. (Files from an investigation carried out by a Utah prosecutor and the FBI released under a public records request would later show these missions in a much less glamorous light—detailing, among other things, the role of a psychic medium named Janet Russon in providing intelligence and one of Ballard’s backers groping the naked breasts of a trafficking victim he believed to be a minor.)

Lynch never went on missions with Ballard. She was instead asked, she says—after being told of the visions he’d had of them working together to save children—to participate in training operations in which they went to strip clubs.

The first time, she alleges, Ballard arrived at her house beforehand with a close friend and OUR employee in tow, as well as Ballard’s son. At her house, Ballard asked her to put fake tattoos and eyeliner on him, getting into the undercover persona he used, which he called “Brian Black.” But almost immediately, Lynch says, once Ballard was in character, he began groping her and trying to kiss her body while she asked him to stop and reminded him that his son and friend were waiting. The behavior continued as the two rode in an Uber, Lynch says, which she calls “horrific.”

“He doesn’t listen,” she says. “He gets in this mindset where it's like he doesn’t see or hear you. It’s whatever he wants.”

Borys, for her part, began working with OUR in July of 2022 as a volunteer before moving on to paid roles in October of that year; by the time she left the organization, she was working as Ballard’s executive assistant. She also began secretly going on missions when, she says, Ballard told her he “was in the middle of a trafficking ring operation and needed a new female partner to come in” to play his girlfriend.

This was part of what Ballard has called the “couples ruse,” in which he and a woman would tell traffickers they were romantic partners, and act as such, while on missions. Ballard has claimed this was necessary to ensure that he and other male operators wouldn’t have to engage in sexual behavior with victims or traffickers while undercover.

Almost immediately after agreeing to work as Ballard’s partner, Borys’ affidavit says, she was flown to California to do “ops training,” which consisted of staying in hotels, hot-tubbing at a Four Seasons, doing workouts on the beach, and Ballard showing Borys what kind of physical acts they had to do while “undercover” and what his supposed boundaries were. She describes him lifting her shirt to admire her stomach, complimenting her “hot body,” kissing her on the neck and insisting it was fine since it avoided kissing on the lips, and showing her how he simulated sexual penetration during operations to fool traffickers who might be observing them.

Ballard, her affidavit says, told her that traffickers could “smell pheromones,” and so they needed to have real sexual chemistry in order to fool them. (The affidavit also alleges that Ballard removed his temple garment, which observant members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wear under their clothes, telling her “he sees angels all around, and that this isn't wrong.”)

Their first practice operation happened in Mexico, the affidavit says, where she was forced to get a couples massage with Ballard that culminated in a female massage therapist touching her in a sexual way while she froze, closed her eyes, and waited for it to be over. “I heard Tim say he had never seen this done so close and he was getting a lesson,” Borys writes in the affidavit.

"Within seconds, once I was there, I found myself in a situation where I didn't even have time to get out of it,” she says. “I was just staring at him for help.” Afterward, she recalls, she wept, and he told her, “We’re going to save so many kids, you have no idea.’”

Borys doesn’t believe these missions ever led to the rescue of a child. They nonetheless persisted—as did, her affidavit says, not just sexually abusive but spiritually manipulative behavior. Borys, who was raised a Latter-day Saint but is no longer practicing—”I’m so glad you’re not LDS anymore,” she remembers him saying—became enmeshed with Russon, the psychic medium. (Russon did not respond to a request for comment.)

“My life revolved around Janet and her readings,” Borys says; Russon would claim to channel her grandmother and allegedly encourage her and other operators not to worry about taking part in sexualized behavior.

“Janet would say, ‘Our bodies are just bodies, and God gave us bodies to use them to go save kids,’” Borys says.

Ballard, Lynch says, would also frequently assure her while touching her inappropriately that they were doing the right thing, saying things like “I know this is hard, but God will be with us,” and “we’re bringing light into dark places.” He also explicitly told her, she says, that the couples ruse was sanctioned by both God and M. Russell Ballard. (The denunciation LDS Church leadership issued of Tim Ballard in 2023 cited “the unauthorized use of President Ballard’s name for Tim Ballard’s personal advantage and activity regarded as morally unacceptable.”)

The allegations are not limited to the workings of couples ruse. At one point, Lynch’s affidavit says, Ballard came over to her house and sexually assaulted her on her staircase—something her lawyers say she reported to authorities in the fall of 2023, after joining the civil suit. (The following day, in text messages to her that WIRED has viewed, he asked to come by and pick up his belt, which he’d left lying on her floor.)

In early July, the women’s legal team filed a motion in which they say the state crime lab told them that DNA found on Borys’ skirt matched Ballard’s. (Borys alleges that Ballard sexually assaulted her and ejaculated on her leather skirt.) The motion urged the court to instruct the Utah County Sheriff’s Office to turn over the crime lab analysis to Borys’ legal team.

(In a statement to Utah outlet Fox 13, Ballard’s team accused Borys’ legal team of tainting a criminal investigation, asserting this was “consistent with the other illegal and unethical behavior that has been a hallmark of the Borys case.” Janet Russon, meanwhile, appeared on a podcast called The Last Dispensation and suggested that Ballard’s semen could have been found on her skirt because the two shared a suitcase. )

It took a while, Borys says, before she began to view herself as a victim of sexual misconduct. “I remember doing something on an op and I was so scared to go do this specific thing,” she says, her voice breaking. “And right before, all I could think was, ‘If little kids are having to do this, I can do this.’”

She would go home at night and make dinner—“trying to compartmentalize,” she says, while also texting with alleged traffickers on a burner phone.

“I would think I was doing good in the world,” she says. And she desperately wanted to see something tangible from the work—a “win,” she adds. “I felt so conflicted and dirty. I wanted that win so all the dirtiness would go away.”

At this time, Ballard’s reputation as a heroic anti-trafficking expert was at a peak. His rhetoric around trafficking—that it’s the world’s largest criminal enterprise, carried out with impunity due to the negligence and incompetence of the federal government generally and Democrats specifically—had become incredibly popular. QAnon believers took a particular interest, especially after Ballard appeared to support a false conspiracy theory that furniture company Wayfair sold children online by saying that “with or without Wayfair,” the selling of children online was “common.” (Jim Caviezel, who played Ballard in Sound of Freedom, has lent overt support to QAnon beliefs; Ballard, he claimed, taught him that traffickers extract a substance from children’s bodies that “elites” then inject to preserve their own youth. An OUR spokesperson denied at the time that Ballard had explained this to Caviezel.) As this was playing out, the QAnon-tinged Save the Children movement became a driving force in Republican politics, and Ballard himself began to eye a run for the US Senate.

In 2023, Ballard quietly parted ways with OUR following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees made against him. Lynch, who was not an employee, has a hazy memory of the time but remembers telling friends of an OUR employee that inappropriate things had happened. They, she says, told their friend, who then reported it to human resources. (Her lawyer, Suzette Rasmussen, confirms this sequence of events.)

Borys became Ballard’s executive assistant in early 2023. She was walled off, she says, from other OUR employees. When the investigation began, she knew little about it and was told that its scope was limited to a report made by one woman and would go away. It wasn’t until after she’d quit OUR, and after she’d seen attorney Suzette Rasmussen on TV discussing a suit the pseudonymous women she was representing had filed against Ballard in civil court in Utah, that she really began to process her experiences.

“I was still trying to understand all the stuff I had been going through working for him,” she says. “Once I saw Suzette, I felt like she was my safest place I could go to to protect myself.”

It wasn’t until after she’d gotten out of Ballard’s orbit, blocked his phone number, and filed a lawsuit, Borys says, that she started to understand how traumatized she was. “I was listening to a police officer doing a podcast or on the news, and he said you don’t get to—” here she pauses, and starts to cry. “You don’t get to create a victim by saving victims. And that really hit me.”

The legal process is ongoing; in addition to the suits and criminal investigation, Borys and Lynch have filed for permanent protective orders against Ballard, which currently await the scheduling of evidentiary hearings.

The two are also still very much processing their experiences not just with Ballard but with OUR, which neither now believes was ever a legitimate child-rescue operation.

“Where’s the proof?” asks Borys. “There just isn’t any proof, and when you try to talk to anyone about it who still works there and believes it, it’s like Tim Ballard—red in the face, flustered and frustrated. Instead of answering questions, they fire back at you.”

WIRED provided a detailed list of questions to Chad Kolton, a spokesperson for Tim Ballard. In response, Kolton wrote, in part, “I started responding to each of these and then reconsidered as it seems like a waste of time … There is absolutely nothing new about Tim’s work with Republicans which he’s done openly for years because they actually want to do something about the problem of trafficking rather than denying it exists. The cases against him have begun to fall apart, with one already dismissed and another facing an evidentiary hearing about serious allegations of illegal and unethical conduct by the plaintiff and her attorneys.”

OUR did not respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

“I hope he goes to jail,” Lynch says. “That’s a really honestly hard thing to say, and it’s been hard to understand that might happen. I have to realize it’s not me putting him in jail. It’s not us. It’s him and what he did.”

She also, she says, simply wants the truth to be known.

“Nobody deserves to go through something like this, and someone like him doesn’t deserve to be on a presidential campaign or speaking engagements,” she says. “He doesn’t deserve that right right now.”

[spidrzfall]

Tough Night? ⤑ Peter Parker.

Should this be an extended series? I dunno yall but hey we working w this. Literally 5 pages long oml 💀 please somebody take away my computer as alwags love you guys smm enjoy !!- A.

☆° Peter Parker x Male Reader

☆°• slight angst + fluff

°•▪︎ Fem readers DNI ♡♡

♧ warnings: Mentions of drinking! all characters are 21+ !!♧

♡ NOTES: might turn this into a possible series - slow burn

┌──═━┈━═──┐

Peter took a long sigh. He shouldn’t be here, he knew it was wrong being there let alone when he was in a sour mood, how couldn’t he though? He acknowledged it was wrong and even with the underlying guilt in his heart he couldn’t stop from just…feeling it. That sense of sadness and deep longing, after all seeing your crush marry your best friend wasn’t always the best thing in the world. Seeing Gwen getting married to his friend, Harry, it felt awful to say the least, he was happy seeing his two friends get married but the thought of Gwen just being happy with someone crushed him, more than he would ever admit. Peter knew he shouldn’t ruin this and didn’t plan to by any means, he didn’t plan on stealing the spotlight and yelling out ‘I Object!’ in the middle of the ceremony. If anything he was willing to suck it up and continue forward, supporting Gwen and Harry, it’s what was right, especially because he was Harry’s Groomsman. 

Though he had to be honest with himself, there was only so much he could support, as the ceremony came to a close and they all headed out to the open garden venue to begin the rest of the event’s party, as for the most part Peter stood off to the side of the whole party, not knowing much people who attended and the ones he did know showed up with their dates or were chatting it up. Watching the newlyweds dance together only planted a sad smile onto Peter’s face deciding to himself that this was enough self-torture, stepping outside the venue and down to the concrete stairs in hopes of being alone. His eyes landed on somebody sitting on the steps a few beer bottles sat next to the man as Peter sat 3 steps behind him, “tough night?” Peter whispered as he brought his legs up so he could rest his head on them as he faced the back of the other. “You could say that, not that this is the toughest night of my life but it qualifies” the man spoke as he turned around to face Peter, a half-empty beer bottle in his hand and beside him another 3 full beer bottles and 2 empty bottles which were thrown to the other side of the steps long forgotten and a safety hazard for people who didn’t spot it. “You too, huh?” the man spoke as Peter let out a soft strained chuckle as he nodded “Hah…yeah but what are you gonna do… Mind if I take a sip?”

“By any means” the man replied, handing Peter the bottle he was drinking which Peter gladly accepted, not bothering to clean the top of it as he just took a large sip of it, an exhale leaving his lips the liquor hitting his system. “You know, this ain’t exactly the ideal place to be lonely” Peter commented his hand playing with the bottle as he saw the liquid inside it splosh around. “Yeah, not exactly the scene” The other replied as Peter stood up walking over to the man and sitting next to him. “What are you doing out here all alone? I’m sure the groom and the bride are dying to see their guests having fun.” Peter partially joked, getting comfortable on the steps or as comfortable as a person could be sitting on a concrete surface. 

“I’m actually a plus one.”

“Ah, Where’s your friend then?” Peter asked, handing the man back the bottle after mindlessly toying with it, seeing the man take a swing at the beer before handing it to Peter who finished it off. “Took the car and got lucky” the man replied. “Seriously? Let me guess; they didn’t have the decency to tell you?” Peter set the empty beer bottle down as he licked his lips savoring the leftover taste of the booze. “No they did, I just decided to stay at a party where I don’t know anybody” The guy spoke sarcastically “He’s got an attitude” – “And a name” – “Does he?”

“(M/N)).” (M/N) replied calmly the feeling of the two prior bottles finally starting up his confidence. “Peter Parker” Peter replied as he shook the man's hand. “So, what’s up with you?” (M/N) asked as he faced Peter, turning his body towards the brunette. “Well, you know, not every day you see your crush get married to your long-term best friend” Peter replied as if it was a completely normal thing to feel or even dare to confess. He caught a glimpse of (M/N) hearing the sound of him sucking in some air as cringed slightly before speaking “Yikes. So, you’re in love with the bride?” That caused Peter to take in what he had said and realized he probably didn’t word it correctly. “Not on purpose, I’ve always had a crush on her since high school and well…Harry well he’s charismatic and more confident than I so naturally he got the girl.” Peter explained. “Well at least you’re not crazy and yelled out object mid ceremony” (M/N) laughed as he opened up another beer bottle. “I’m in love but not that in love, I'm not going to just ruin my best friend's wedding!” Peter laughed along with him. 

“Fair enough, you don’t exactly look like the type who would do something so extreme. You look like…the awkward type.” (M/N) commented as he chuckled teasing the other man earning a scoff from Peter who didn’t know if he should take offense or laugh so he took the latter, “Got me there. I’m not exactly well in public settings, I’m not terrible at it either but you know.” Peter defended himself as he looked up at the night sky, the moon whole as the light emitted below towards the two men. “Did you and her ever…?” (M/N) asked as he looked at Peter. “What? No…no we never dated, I really only had a crush on her and nothing more, Though I’m sure she knew, it was blatantly obvious” Peter replied as he rubbed his hands together out of sheer nervousness. “She just never returned the feelings, so she never said anything which im grateful she spared the embarrassment of rejection” he continued. 

“Ignorance is bliss.” – “Ignorance is bliss.” Peter repeated. “Best thing’s to move on, you know? I know it’s hard to move on…but if you don’t, you’re only hurting yourself at the end of the day besides I’m sure you’ll find somebody soon. You seem like a sweet guy from what I've seen hanging out with you or maybe it’s just the booze.” (M/N) spoke earning him a small laugh from Peter. “Yeah, I know. I’ll just have to move on, if she was able to, I’m sure I can too…” Peter replied, sighing and taking a deep breath right after as he heard the slow music come from further into the venue, knowing the slow dance for the newlyweds had just begun.

How Deep Is Your Love by Bees Gees can be heard playing as Peter smiled sadly, humming softly to the song. A part of his heart broken, the song bringing back old memories…

It was high-school prom, right before graduation. Gwen was outside crying seeing as her date had stood her up. Peter took note of her crying as he wanted to make his way outside only for Harry to practically beat him to the punch, going to comfort the girl as Peter watched from the sidelines. The music from inside the venue played as the slow dance music finally started, most of the couples were already on the dance floor getting ready for their little romantic moments. How Deep Is Your Love slowly taking its start as Peter watched Harry bringing Gwen inside and dancing with her…Peter only looked from the sidelines as he took that as a sign to just leave the dance, always wondering in the back of his mind…what if he never asked Harry to give him a ride to the dance? What if he never asked Harry to stay behind and wait in the parking lot? It was far too late to wonder though.

(M/N) frowned slightly as he saw the change in Peter’s behavior as the song played behind them inside the venue. Seeing the man disassociate in front of him he lightly tapped Peter’s shoulder, causing the other to snap out of it. “Sorry,” Peter mumbled out an apology as he rubbed his arm trying to get rid of the chills he felt from the cold breeze. “You don’t have to apologize, just making sure you don’t cloud out on me…I’m like not exactly sober and don’t have a car to drive you to the hospital or to help.” (M/N) commented as he looked away from the other, a part of him feeling bad for the other's misfortune of being stuck in a situation as strange as this one. The muffled music filled the tense air as the two sat down next to one another, leaning into each other's company after all who else to rely on than a stranger? 

“You wanna dance?” (M/N) broke the silence as the song continued from behind them, the question breaking Peter out of his dazed mind as he hesitated before nodding. (M/N) getting up as he and Peter walked to a secluded area of the venue, the music slightly louder as they were near the speakers, Peter placed his hands on (M/N)’s shoulder and the other took the man’s hand as they laced their fingers together, (M/N)’s other hand placed onto Peter’s waist as the two slow danced. It was botched up as Peter could smell the clear aroma of booze within the other man as they stumbled occasionally stepping on one another’s feet earning themselves a good laugh. “You’re a terrible dancer” Peter laughed, his words nothing but the truth. “I’m drunk, I’m usually a great dancer.”

“Talking about your clear unsober-ness, you need a ride?” Peter whispered knowing the man wasn’t in any condition to drive besides it wasn’t like he had a car to even drive back, the question earning Peter a nod from (M/N) as they both pulled away from each other as Peter began walking out and heading towards the parking lot before being pulled in by (M/N). “You know we have to say goodbye to the newlyweds, right?” Peter had the misfortune of agreeing that it would be beyond rude if they didn’t, as the two walked into the loud open area where the guests all were the slow dance over as they saw Gwen and Harry making conversation with some of the guests.

The two men walked up to them as Peter cleared his throat gaining attention from the two as he began to talk, “Hey guys, sorry to interrupt but I have to head out already.” Earning sad stares from the two “already? The party started less than an hour ago, you can’t be seriously leaving already.” Gwen spoke up first as she looked at Peter. “Yeah man, you usually stay late. I know you don’t have work tomorrow, did something happen? Did somebody tell you something? You know we’ll handle it right?” Harry spoke right after Gwen. “What? No it’s nothing like that, I offered them a ride because I’m pretty sure they hit the booze a bit too much and they don’t have a ride” Peter replied pointing towards (M/N), letting the two’s concerns die down.

“Why don’t they just get a cab?” Harry mumbled under his breath, it wasn’t meant to come out as rude and yet it slightly did. Peter sighed as he shook his head, before speaking once more “I don’t think it’s safe getting a cab in New York half drunk” Harry had to agree there as it didn’t take long for the two newlyweds to accept Peter’s leave as they said their goodbyes as well as (M/N) saying his goodbyes, the two men finally leaving as they walked to Peter’s car; a black Range Rover Sport. ‘Fancy Car…’ (M/N) spoke in his mind as he checked out the car Peter unlocked the car got into the driver's seat and (M/N) followed suit and got into the passenger side. (M/N) mumbling out his address to Peter as the long ride began back to Queens. 

“You don’t live as far from where I live…” Peter commented as he drove, the radio silently playing in the background. “Really?” – “Yeah, 10 minutes away I believe” – “What are the odds…” (M/N) whispered as he rested his head against the window of the car, seeing the street lights pass by them the two eventually getting to (M/N)’s apartment complex. As Peter put on his emergency lights the other got off and closed the door behind him, the window rolling down directly afterwards. “Thanks for the ride, Peter. I appreciate it” (M/N) spoke as he leaned against the frame of where the window was. “Don’t mention it, thanks for the almost empty booze and listening to my tragic love life” Peter joked as he laughed. “Hey anything for a suffering stranger, seriously though keep your head up. I’m sure you’ll find somebody great one day…but if you need a friend to talk gimmie a call or a text any works.” (M/N) suggested as he took out a pen from his pocket and an old receipt scribbling his number onto it and leaving it on Peter’s dashboard. “I’ll make sure to bug you whenever I can…stranger” – “Can’t wait”

A car behind them honking its horn tore them both out of the conversation as (M/N) quickly waved his goodbye as he saw Peter drive away, taking that as his cue to make his way quickly into his apartment complex. Who knew meeting up with a stranger would be quite an interesting side quest? Entering was greeted by his adoptive brother, Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson, who was on the couch.

“Well look what the cat dragged in, thanks so much for stranding me at the wedding!” (M/N) spoke as he smacked his brother's head, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Sorry, I got caught up in a moment, I was blowing up your phone. How’d you even get home?” Flash commented as he didn’t bother looking at the other his eyes focused on the screen of the television that played the basketball game. “I got a ride, no thanks to you.” – “who gave you a ride?” – “Some guy named Peter Parker.”

The name caused Flash to go wide-eyed as he spit out the water in his mouth that he was about to drink, “You got a ride from WHO?!”

└──═━┈━═──┘

[starillusion13]

My Princess

Pairing : Bandit! San x Princess! reader

Genre: Pirate Au, Fluff, S2L, Royal

W.C: 4k

Warnings: Nothing, just don't follow a stranger like in the story coz everybody is not going to be a San in your life.

Request from: @vvshere

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @yeoobin @anyamaris @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames

Note: Thanks for joining the event and loving my works. I love interaction so please do tell me how you all like my works.

*under the cut*

Being a princess has never been a peaceful and wonderful life for you. Commoners may have dreamt to have a life like you in the way they have imagined but never actually got to know how exactly you are living your life. Wearing a heavy long princess gown with corsets which sometimes make you feel like dying out of lack of breathing. The feeling is similar to being inside the four walls of the castle every day. You are not allowed to go out in the public because according to the king, your life is always at the stake of risk and the bandits out there may use any opportunity as their only chance.

Bandits! You heard about this from the guards and the king and sometimes you saw the scared faces of some maids when mentioning about them. You don’t know how even they look or what actually they are but as far as you got to know from these people, they are the criminals of the town rather the whole kingdom keeps their wealth and jewels protected from the bandits. So, as you are a curious little being who has a new adventure in her life now to get to know more about these bandits and at any cost you want to encounter with one. You don’t know how or will it be okay after this or not but you have made yourself determined to get out of the castle.

With all the courage and self-enthusiasm, at midnight you disguised yourself as one of the maids to get away from the castle. The maid who helped you in this situation is very much close with you since your childhood as your mother never cared for you and always busy with herself and your brother and this never bothered you because the maid always accompanied you in every possible way. The king has always neglected your presence inside the castle but never let you go outside. If he does not like you then why not letting you to be yourself? Oh! It’s just because he wants you to get married to the neighbourhood kingdom and he needs to maintain a proper image for that for his benefit.

“Will you be really safe?” you are looking around the dark backyard garden to see whether any possible being is aware of your acts when you heard someone beside you is concerned.

With a smile and confidence radiating self, you turned to your side “Of course. Its not like anyone can recognise me as no one in general knows me or have seen me that much to be recognisable in this state.”

“I am not worrying for you to coming face to face with any commoner.”

Your restless self replies quickly, “Then why are you worried? If am not any royal member then nothing worse can happen.”

“Stay away from Bandits and Pirates. They are not the types to be a part of your adventures.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I would be so careless to get myself into any trouble with them. I just want to get to know the outer world and who are these people whom people are so afraid of.” Giving her a smile of assurance, you picked up your tote bag and adjusted it in your hands. The bag has few necessary items which can be needed for you few days stay in the village.

“I will manage everything here. Just be safe out there.” You nodded on her words and followed the dark pebbled way towards the forest.

————

Your senses hit with a foreign feeling of being out from the walls of castle. You feel like having escaped a cage and now you can spread your wings of freedom. If only I had wings, I could have fly away long ago! If only it was a daytime so that could make the surrounding seem wide and bright to give the feeling of being freed. Looking around during midnight, it seems like an endless dark place with mysteries beyond the paths.

You are excited to be finally on your little adventure but deep down, there is a fear of worst situations that you might have to face.  

You tried to recall the path the maid has described to you and following that you have to turn to your left to enter the east sector of the village where you can stay for as long as you want without anyone being conspicuous because al lot of sailors and other kingdoms visitors stay here. Well, the most advantageous would be able to see bandits and pirates. You just have to pretend that you are searching for a work here and that’s it.

“Ouch!” How the hell did I just trip? Bending down, you caressed the ankle where it is paining like somebody has cut off the feet.

“I told you I heard somebody was here.” A deep voice echoed in the silent atmosphere of the forest and you are just thrilled when you recognised it as a male’s voice.

Another voice spoke up from the same direction, “Hmmm….. and that’s why I came along with you.”

The rustling sounds nearing your form making you panic in your place and you are not able to process of what to do then.

You took one step forward when someone holds your upper arm to yank you around. The person is not properly visible to you except those eyes which are bright due to the lantern in his other hand holding at the face level. His eyes are shining like lost diamonds in the dark forest and anytime those bandits would come look for it.

“What are you doing here?” This voice sounds like the first one you heard before.

“I- I am here just….” You can’t think of any excuse when you know very well what you have to tell in such situations. The grip on your arm is really strong and you are wiggling your hand to let you go. Only if he tried to do this in the castle, he would have been dead in no time.

“Who are you? What are you even doing here at this hour?” The second person made his presence known to you when coming beside the previous male.

You gathered a little courage to handle the situation a bit, “I’m from the other side of this village and I have lost my way so I was going towards the main sector of this side of the village for a night stay.”

The man let go of your arm and moved aside when the other one comes in front of you. He also has a lantern in his hand but his eyes are very piercing and the way they are scanning your face as if he can reveal your original identity. You feel conscious on this thought and pulls your scarf to cover your face. He holds your wrist preventing you from your act and started dragging you towards the direction where you were supposed to go.

“What the hell are you doing? Leave my hand. Where are you taking me to?” Is this the end? Are you really going to die? Or something worse? No no you have to run before this man decides to do anything with you. Your thin white silk gown is not helping the night cold and the pain in your ankle is becoming worse.

“Do you have a place to live tonight?” His sudden question made you stop fighting against him and your other still busy adjusting the bag on your shoulder from slipping for him pulling you.

“…..no but I can manage on my own.”

“I can see how you can do that probably becoming the meal of any wild animals or getting kidnapped by some sailors to trade you off to a different country.”

“Trade me? Is this even possible as the king- “you are really going to get caught at this point when you are just about to reveal your original identity.

“Do you think that king even care for any commoner? He doesn’t even care for his own daughter.”

“How do you know about his daughter?” You asked him on seeing his confidence on commenting about the relation between the king and his daughter. To some point it is true that he does not even care for you but maybe he would have done something in this sort of situation.

“Do you think he care for you?” He is staring at you directly into your eyes and for a second you thought he directs the question to you as if he knows you are the daughter.

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. See! no one has any confidence to agree with that the king care for anyone.” He started to walk towards where he was taking you before, your hand still in his firm grip and the other man beside you still busy looking around the place.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To give you a place for tonight and to change your mind on your decision.”

“How can I trust you? And what decision are you referring to?”

He completely ignores your query and spoke to the other male, “Yeosang! Tell captain that we are having a guest on our ship and maybe we have to discuss on some matters later at night.” The latter eyed you for a moment and walks away.

“Captain? You…you are a pirate then…..Are you going to sell me to those sailors?” you wanted to encounter those pirates or bandits but not like this during night when you don’t have anywhere to run for your safety and also not on the same night when you ran away from the castle. Your shaky pupils where tears are threatened to fall looking at the man pulling you.

His piercing eyes turn towards you for a precise moment to read your expression, “I know you are afraid of me but am not a…..pirate. You can trust me and please follow me quietly because I don’t want others to know about our presence out here or we both will be in danger.”

Coming to the main sector of the village, you can see the surroundings a bit more clearly because of the lights coming from different sources around you both and then when you notice this man. This man is a stranger dressed up in a white loose shirt inside with a beige-colored fringe coat and a half sleeved brown leather jacket and a light brown velvet pants. The street is enough lit to take in the surroundings and you smile a bit to be finally walking between the common life environment but to your dismay, you are with a pirate or someone like that.

“Are you cold?” A concern wrapped around his words.

“Huh?… oh…no it’s okay.”

“Hold on. We will reach there soon and then I will give you something warm.”

You remained quiet as to why he is caring for you that much. Your gaze fall to where he is holding your hand then look up to the back of his head and then when you notice the red streaks in his black hairs. Those red streaks are mysteriously highlighting like the way his actions are mysteriously too nice towards you.

“Why are you helping me? Are you really same like how you are showing yourself to me right now?”

He didn’t say a word but increased his speed and you followed him quietly. You literally don’t care if anything happens to you because to you this is an adventure and you want to experience it any way possible atleast everything seems better to you than being within the four walls of your room.

You can hear the waves hitting the shore because of high tide and the smell of wet ground hitting your nose calming your panicked self. A smile appeared on your face and the same moment he turns to you but you were busy looking at the sea. Even though the place is dark but the sound of the sea shore and the silence of the dark night is giving you comfort. You feel like to be the free soul in this outside world and just want to run beyond the horizon. A tear rolls down your eyes and before you can wipe it off, a somewhat rough finger slide through your cheek.

“Don’t waste your tears on such silly things.” You made a ‘tsch’ sound on his remark.

“What?”

“You don’t know how I am feeling right now.”

He pulled you towards a ship, the only ship docked at the shore. You both walked towards the wooden gangway which leads to the plank of the ship. He helped you get into the ship and then when you reached the deck. You can hear some faint voices from a small room situated in the middle to your left and to your right, the man is settling down some boxes. You are looking around the ship as this is your first time being on a ship and also on a pirate ship. The ship has damp and sea shell smell, to people maybe this is disgusting but to you this is a smell of a momentary freedom.

“What’s your name?” you asked him when you settled down your bag on a wooden drum.

He looks at you and down to your leg and you followed his gaze and hen you realized that he is looking at the bruised portion. The bright lantern on the ship making the presence lively and visible to each other. You both looked up at the same time and made an eye contact.

“San.”

“Hmm…thanks for your help, San. I don’t know if I’m safe with you here or not but for the time being am experiencing a lot of new aspects of life.”

“Sit there on the stool beside you. I will bring some patches for your ankle.”

“Its okay. I will go to any medic in the morning.”

He didn’t listen to you and walked away towards a door where you could hear faint voices of males coming. Oh gosh! There are so many men all around me and I don’t even know how to fight. The worst is that if the king find me here in this situation, I would be dead before these pirates change their mind from helping me to killing me. You were so lost in thoughts that you didn’t someone is standing before you.

“Are you worrying about your adventure?”

“Huh?” you are confused on his words. Adventure? He is not probable referring to your original plan. Right? Or maybe he is.

He bends down and sit on his knees to match your sitting form on a stool. He lifts your leg and then you stopped him by holding his wrist.

“I can do it myself.”

“You really think life is so easy everywhere.”

“Why? I just told you I can apply those patches on my wound.”

“You don’t know how to handle wounds from animal traps so let me do it.” He is right as you never applied cream on your simple cuts and always your maid was there to guide you on everything. But being a commoner, they know how to handle these.

“maybe….”

When he was applying the cream, you noticed a wooden opera glass stuck to the band on his waist and then it struck your mind that the maids always used to say how they heard a dangerous bandit always carry this.

“Are you a bandit?” He looks up to meet your scared eyes and again his gaze returned to your ankle where he was done patching up.

“Yes. My brothers are pirates and one of them is a medic whom you saw earlier and am a bandit.”

You abruptly stood up and a pain shoot your legs making you stumble in your place. He helped you balance your form but you yank him away.

“Don’t do this. Sit down or the pain will become worse.”

“You all are dangerous people surrounding me and how can I just think of a wound right now.”

“We are not always dangerous.”

“You all rob and kill people. How can I believe that you are not lying?”

He paused before coming closer to you and staring with raised eyebrows, “The way am believing you that you were in the forest only because you had lost your path.”

“What are you even saying?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know that you are lying to me all this time.”

“I a-am not ly-lying.”

He chuckles, “sure.”

“I am telling you everything truly.”

“Let’s go inside, the night is too cold and you are just wearing a scarf and a thin gown. I’m sure princesses don’t stay out at night for too long.”

“Princess?” your shocked eyes didn’t even try to hide your expression on his words.

“Are you not the princess Y/N?” you are stunned how he pronounced your name dearly with remark princess.

“How do you know?”

“Let’s head inside then we can talk about it.”

Hearing yourself to be called a princess, the feeling of suffocation returned back to you and now you don’t even want to go anywhere confined other than being under the bright full moon and vast sky with an endless night sea surrounding where you can smell the freedom.

You look up towards the moon, “I don’t want to go inside.” The moon is visible through between the mast and crownest.

“Do you want to go up there?”

“Where?” He points towards the crownest.

Your pleading eyes asked “Can I?”

He nodded and then when he helped you climb up a rope stairs. Your fourth attempt made it a success to finally reach there. The wind is giving a fresh and unconfined feel to you.

You grinned on this feeling, forgetting all worries about your escaping the palace and encountered a bandit with whom you are experiencing the air of freedom. It can be possible if he kills you up here where not a single being of the ship can be aware of his deeds and maybe get all your golds and money from your bag.

“It’s beautiful right?”

“Yes!” You turn to your side to see him already looking at you. His piercing eyes looking like a flashing edge of a knife under the moonlight. The more you are seeing him, you are curious of what a bandit do or how they are different from others. They are humans like you but how come people are afraid of them when they are like this.

“Why were you alone in the forest?”

“How do you know me being a princess?”

You both asked on the same time. He nodded and looked away towards the moon and then he spoke up.

“I know everything about you.”

“How?”

“When someone wants to do something, the person tries to do it but when it comes to someone’s desire then the person can go beyond his limits to do it. The bandits always have passionate desires in them.”

“Your desire was to know about me?”

“No the king?” he looks back to you.

“Why?”

“The king never let the commoners follow the old rules which your grandfather had settled and it leads to a lot of business problems among the sailors and the commoners and also to the pirates. We once went to a meeting with the king and then when I saw you.”

He paused for a moment, “that day you were with a maid and you both seemed so close and then the days of my stay inside the place, I always followed you without you being aware of me and then when I got to know everything about you. You already know how bandits can get every detail about something and I don’t know why but I wanted you to get away from that place.”

“Why didn’t you just abduct me from the palace? I could have freed long ago.”

“I couldn’t n’t because the easy suspects would have been us if they get to know that you getting kidnapped is followed by the disappearance of our ship from the port.”

“You kill people so what if you kidnap someone.”

“We just kill who is a threat to kingdom but I agree with us robbing people. We just rob rich sailors and kingdoms for us.”

“So, you are not that dangerous like how I have heard.”

“Like not all princesses are happy in their palace.”

“Hm…”

“Do you want to go away with us. With me?” He turns his body to face you and then takes your hand in his to give you a little smile.

“You will get caught.”

“No one knows we are here in this village. We had to get something and so me and Yeosang went there when on our way of return, you stumbled in our way.”

“……”

“Do you want to be freed forever?”

Your gaze admires the way his warm hand holds your cold hands and then look towards the moon, “I want to be that moon who is dancing and shining brightly among the ocean of stars. You are a bandit who always look forward to the journeys beyond the horizon with your captain and brothers. But me….”

“What about you?” you look back to your hands.

“I never got anything, nowhere where I can be myself other than being a princess and following the royals within those four walls.”

He hugged you. This hug is a simple welcoming hug but to you this is the most precious feelings for getting warmth from someone. No one ever hugged you this way and no one even offered to help you even when there is a risk of others getting caught but he is willing to give you everything you want.

“But how did you know that it was me in the forest?”

“No one would be in that area coming from other side of the village other than the people from palace coming from backyard as I know the way. Also, the moment I saw your face I was confirmed.”

You gasped, “you were going to rob us?” You look up to him.

He is smiling down, “Remember I told I had to get something. It was an important thing to captain which the king had taken away.”

“oh!”

“So, do you want to be the princess of the sea?”

“Will you be with me on this journey?”

His one hand caressed your cheek and the orbs deeply staring at you, “I will take you beyond the horizon just to keep you away from the kingdom. I will never let a shadow fall on you to make you feel confined.”

“Thank you…..San.”

“So princess, lets start our journey?”

“Its Y/N not princess anymore.”

“You are my princess. The princess of my sea, Y/N.”

You smiled on his endearment and kissed him on the cheek and quickly hold the railing of the crownest to face the sea and closed your eyes to feel the breeze blowing. You felt some one back hugged you and rest his head against yours. You smiled to yourself, the adventure is no more how you did expected but it’s a lot more interesting than it could have been otherwise.

“Please let me prove that bandits can be good to their princess.”

“You have already proved me and I must say that I trust you the most.”

The crackling dawn in the sky promising a golden ray of hope in the horizon marking your journey towards the princess of the sea. Maybe, the stories of bandits were more scary than encountering one in real life.

[katsukismrs]

geyser

context:you bottled up your emotions for too long,and it overflowed when you and your boyfriend argued.

warnings:swearing,overstimulation,fighting,reader has a panic attack during fight,angst to comfort and fluff

author note: the symptoms of panic attacks vary! i just used the ones i get when i have panic attacks,if you get panic attacks i’m really sorry,but you aren’t alone <3. p.s:this is self indulgent don’t mind it lol

taglist!!

it had all been too much for you to handle;your parents’ constant banter about how you entered U.A and how stupid you were for not pursuing in something “normal”, your training,having to deal with your classmates’ traumatic events because you were someone they trusted dearly with their secrets, having to keep up a relationship with the boy you loved, even though you were tired of constantly dealing with his shit, the list goes on and on.

you sat in the common room, staring into space, the light is too much, the mindless banter of your classmates is too loud, one of them is eating and the smell is too much, the scraping of the metal fork against the glass plate, the couch’s material is too rough for your fingertips, it makes your teeth cringe and gives you goosebumps, you lick your teeth and something made your mouth taste disgusting, and all that resorted into a headache fueled by anger that if someone interacted with you you’d get violent, so you resort to standing up and leaving the common room entirely, going straight to your room, your safe haven.

your boyfriend, Katsuki, with his observant nature, inevitably notices and chases after you, entering the elevator with you.

“what do you want?” you exclaimed, you obviously didn’t want social contact, why couldn’t he leave you alone? but he stayed silent, not answering you at all, the levels of your anger traveling further than that you were feeling right now, is he an asshole?

the elevator came to a stop after what seemed like a decade, you exited and rushed to your room, trying to outrun him, but you failed miserably. he enters the room after you and closes the door.

“so what’s up with the bullshit you kept up in the common room? dunce face directed so many sentences at you yet you stayed silent, you ass.” he scolds you, it angered you further.

“oh sorry, didn’t know you were so considerate of Kaminari.” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes, your headache is killing you, you’re on the verge of crying, you wish you could tell him but the words die on your tongue out of anger.

“what the fuck is up with your attitude?” he questions, anger in his tone, fueled by who knows what, diesel maybe? because he might as well catch on fire from how he’s fuming at your unexplained change of attitude.

“what the fuck is up with your attitude?” you counter his question with one of your own. “can’t you notice i’m not up for chit-chat?!” you yell at him, oh shoot. you begin to beg yourself please, to not let out your ugly emotions on him, not on him, anyone or anything else, just not him. but it seems as if your body simply didn’t want to listen, it obeyed your too-selfless-too-stupid commands for way too long.

“and can’t you see i’m trying to see what the fuck is up with all this?! i’m trying to fucking help!” he yells back, this isn’t working between you two at all, irritated Katsuki Bakugou and overstimulated you didn’t mix well at all, you wanted to tell him what was wrong with you, you needed to tell him, you needed to tell him it’s you who’s wrong, not him, not his attempts of helping you, but the way you responded to it, yell it out! you begged yourself, you begged your words to live past your tongue, but they didn’t listen.

“i don’t need your fucking help if you’re that miserable at trying to!” you reply instinctively, please just stop, or he’s gonna leave you.

the thought kicks in.

he might leave you.

he might not understand whatever you’re going through right now.

and that’s when it was enough for your body.

the colors around you begin to brighten up, too much to be normal, your heart speeds up to a too-much rate, your face heats up, your whole body in fact, somehow your brain registers what he’s saying despite the wreck going on, like a building crashing down during an earthquake.

“oh well! i’m sorry for trying to help like a decent boyfriend! thought you told me to practice the ‘asking others if they’re okay when they’re not and try to help them’ bullshit!” he yells once again, mocking you in the process, and it feels like bullshit, you are bullshit.

your body continues to go into overdrive “don’t mock me you asshole!” you noticed you run out of breath, so you gasp violently to make up for the lost air, your skin feels damp, you notice that you’re crying, so you viciously wipe your tears with your forearm. “i told you i don’t need your help! take it-” you run out of breath again,and sniffle this time “take it elsewhere if you can’t do it,you bitch!” you’re crying hysterically, your face smothered in snot and tears.

he stands there, staring at you, he had an observant nature, so how come he didn’t notice you, his significant other, slowly break down?

you whine and weep as you cover your face, it’s burning from the tears, you notice you’re shaking because you can’t cover your face all the way, showing the hideous state you hid for too long.

then suddenly.

something’s warm.

no.

someone’s warm.

arms? where did they come from?

oh.

Katsuki engulfed you into a hug, making your tears suddenly come to a halt. “dumbass, if you felt like this, why didn’t you come to me?” his voice was so gentle. so soft. contrasting what it sounded like earlier too well. he runs his hand up and down your back “continue your crying, dumbass”

and just like a geyser bursting, you burst into tears, the comfortability in being able to cry without limits made you break. you bite the fabric of his shirt, screaming into it, you expected him to let go of you so you don’t get tears, snot, and saliva all over his shirt. yet he didn’t. he instead held you, not minding how disgustingly wet his shirt was getting, it wasn’t disgusting at all to him, because he was in your position before, and you were in his. he remembers the days where he just barged in your room uninvited, and just cried into you, he too expected you’d let go, instead you’d whisper sweet reassurances to him and held him close until his energy ran out. until he fell asleep. and when he’d wake up he’d see that he didn’t change places, that you held him until you fell asleep yourself, and he adored that.

not only is he helping you, he’s reciprocating what you did for him.

your cries finally died down, and you became calmer “i’m sorr-” you apologized, or at least tried to before you were hushed.

“don’t apologize for needing someone to comfort you, dumbass” he told you,quite offended that you’d apologize for needing help from him.

you sighed contentedly, having let out all the burden on your shoulder, yet you still needed his physical contact.

“can we-” you paused, hesitant. “can we stay like this, for longer?”

he didn’t reply, instead he slid his hands beneath your armpits and picked you up, now carrying you, and let that answer your question.

you wrapped your arms around him and linked your feet together, letting him walk around the dormitory room and gently swaying you.

“i didn’t mean what i said earlier,i’m sorry.” you recalled what you called him, feeling a tinge in your heart because of it.

“don’t apologize, it’s not like i meant to actually mock you, did i? and i didn’t even apologize for that.” he replied,scolding himself in the last bit. you fight back a giggle at the last bit.

as much as you wanted to be able to stay like this for longer, sleep washed over you, your eyes began to fight your drowsiness, your eyes fluttering and you taking long blinks with force, eventually you blinked once, and your eyelids refused to open, having lost the fight.

he noticed your breathing steady and how you became physically heavier, how your hands let loose, and how your feet unlinked, so he went ahead and walked over to your bed and laid you down. God, you looked so serene, your chest rising up and down with ease, unlike how heavy your breathing was the previous days, then he looked closer to your face, and he noticed something.

you’re smiling, despite your tear-stained face.

that alone made his heart do backflips, how after a vicious weeping session you felt happy, with him out of all people. he tucked you in and then so-carefully slid in the bed with you, being mindful to not wake you up.

he didn’t need to pull you in, because as soon as he got into bed, you held him, put your head on his chest, then breathed him in and letting the breath out through your mouth, sighing softly, making him chuckle and hold you in return, kissing the top of your head.

“i love you, angel. sweet dreams” he said, his lips against your scalp. he then laid his head on your pillow, and closed his eyes.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hii! Happy thursday! I hope youre having a great week! 💕💕

Silk on her body, pull it down and watch it slip off

With Bruno👀🙏🏻

Part of the Cowboy!Terry Universe

The Ranch - You fell in love with Terry underneath the stars in Montana.

Whiskey Kisses - You and Terry share your first kiss after a whiskey tasting event.

Memorable (NSFW) - You make your first time with Terry memorable.

Montana - Terry recieves a holiday card in the mail.

The last time Terry laid eyes on you was in a cabin in Vancouver. It had been the morning after your wedding and he remembers the silk slipping from your skin as he’d made love to you for the last time. He remembers the bliss in that moment, the sense of belonging to someone so completely that you’d die for them. It’s a couple of hours later that he gives you the envelope with your new identity inside.

“You stay safe alright?” he murmurs as his lips brush over your hairline because it’s the last time he’s going to see you in a while and he needs that reassurance.

It’s as he sits on the porch of his ranch listening to detectives from the local P.D tear his place apart that he thinks of the old cigar box, hidden in the alcove of the old tree at the edge of his property line. You used to leave each other love notes there once upon a time, it’s where he’s left his wedding ring and the polaroid picture a stranger took of the two of you standing on the steps of the courthouse.

This is just one of the many secrets he keeps regarding you.

Noone knows that he came to your house the night you killed Donovan. The police had never been able to prove that it was him on those videos with your niece but you knew it was him. It tore you up that he’d gotten away with it. The two of you had talked about it at length while you watched Amelie trot around the pasture on Balderdash. She’d started healing since joining Healing Hooves, the trauma program Terry ran out of his ranch, it’s how the two of you met. He knows what rage looks like, he’s seen it you everytime you thought about that man.

When Terry stepped into your kitchen that evening, he had known there wasn’t a chance in hell you could claim self-defence.

“He showed me the original video.” You’d said, your voice entirely devoid of emotion as you stare down at the knife sticking out of Donovan’s chest. “It’s worse than what he put up on that website.”

That’s why Terry decides to help you, that and the fact he is so hopelessly in love with you that the thought of you going to prison for something that was justified kills him. It’s just another sign of how much he’s changed since he left New York.

It’s a fluke that they find the body. Terry’s a city boy at heart, he hadn’t factored in that torrential rain would cause a mudslide revealing the grave he’d dug. He hasn’t been in Montana long enough to experience one before.

The two of you disappear the next day over the border. It won’t take long for the police to realise what happened, he’d cleaned up well enough but his years of law enforcement have taught him there’s always a trace.

He marries you that afternoon because despite what happened he loves you, he’ll always love you and he needs you to know that. When he returns to Montana the next day it’s to two detectives waiting on his front porch.

“Do you know where she is?” They ask him and he shakes his head, recalling the words he’s said to you that morning.

“Don’t tell me where you going.” He’d whispered against your lips as he’d cradled your face between his hands. “Just let me know when you get there.”

When they leave he spends the evening putting the pieces of his life back together, waiting for that text from you.

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@kmc1989 @beardedbarba @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @witches-unruly-heart @spaghettificationandpretzels @kishie8 @whateversomethingbruh @trublu2u @silversprings-mp3 @kabloswrld @topmagtiger

[flowerpotmage]

Tight Grip, Broken Dam (5)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: injuries from last chapter, miguel being... well. angst?

Word Count: roughly 3.8k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

Apprehension seeps up your spine like water into paper as you move through the holding area for captured anomalies to get to Miguel’s lab. Their eyes on you as you pass do little to help, and there’s no relief when you finally leave them behind and enter the familiar dark space.

Miguel is standing near the platform, head bowed and hands on his hips. You know he hears you, as quiet as you are; He might not have that internal alarm system the others call spidey-sense, but you know he has impressive enough enhanced senses.

He doesn’t greet you. Not unusual, but it still twists your stomach an inch to the left.

After a beat of silence that feels way, way too long, you break the silence yourself.

“Mig-” you cut off the beginning of his name, your voice uncomfortably quiet, and take a breath before you straighten your spine and speak louder, flatter: “I’m here for debrief.”

“Lyla,” he doesn’t quite bark out the virtual assistant’s name, but a lesser Spider probably would have flinched.

You almost do.

“Hey boss,” she flickers into existence in the usual space near his shoulder, sitting on nothing and sipping from a smoothly rendered latte cup. “What’s up?”

“Debrief,” he says. His back is still turned to you, only a sliver of the side of his face and his cheekbone visible from where you stand.

You cross your arms, a gesture that’s as self soothing as it is irritated.

“Right.” You turn your head to stare off into a dark corner, rather than look at his back any longer. “I was having a sandwich.”

“How is that–”

“I was having a sandwich in the park,” you cut him off. You don’t have to see his face to know he’s clenching his jaw. “Roughly around noon Earth-7723 time, when a portal opened probably twenty feet in front of me, and Venture ste–”

Only now does Miguel turn to face you, eyebrows furrowed. “What did you say?”

You blink at him, once. “Venture stepped out of the–”

“That’s a new one,” Lyla says at the same time that Miguel swears under his breath in Spanish.

“Esto no puede estar sucediendo…”

“...Did you want me to continue?”

Miguel takes a breath and gestures for you to continue, before turning away again and crossing his arms. He doesn’t turn away fully, but somehow this is worse, like he doesn’t even want to look at you.

So you continue, doing your best to relay an accurate version of events.

“...And then I stopped you from biting him, and you punched him out cold instead,” you finish.

Miguel nods, turning away completely again. “End debrief.”

Realizing that he hadn’t looked at you once outside of your naming Venture, it’s not just your road rash that stings. You wonder if you should go, flexing your aching and stinging palms–

“You should have called for backup immediately.”

“...What?”

“The second that Venture stepped out, you should have called,” he turns and points at you, a hand still on his hip, finally, finally looking at you.

You pull your head back in disbelief, unfold your arms, and gesture your open hands through the air as you say; “I called as soon as I was able!”

His nostrils flare, and then his eyes catch on your moving hands and the bandages wrapped around them. They snap back to meet yours.

Your movements still.

He takes a step closer.

“You were injured .”

“I can handle it,” you snap, refusing to back down as you glare at one another. “And I did.”

The tension is heavy, new. You almost feel a tremor at the top of your spine, the adrenaline of the day returning with the rise of your anger and priming you to fight or to run.

He doesn’t back down either, and even with the distance between you, the room starts to blur as if retreating into the dim lighting.

He gestures at you, your injuries. “Can you? You don’t exactly have the same high healing factor as the rest. How are you going to do your job with–”

“I saved you today! You would have been– you–” your chest is tightening again, the air getting thinner. “He almost got you before you even stepped through the fucking portal.”

“I would have handled it.”

“You would have–” you cut yourself off with a scoff, although the fight is rapidly draining from your body. “Right. Yeah.” You swallow, crossing your arms as you look away. “Permission to leave, boss?” You almost wince at the way you spit the word.

Miguel takes a breath, letting out a sigh as he turns his back to you again. “Yeah. Dismissed.”

It’s definitely a lot more than your road rash that continues to sting.

Gwen knows something is up with you the second you get home.

She looks at you with raised eyebrows over the back of your couch when you return through a portal instead of the front door. Her eyes sweep up and down, catching on your bandaged palms and the slight slump in your posture.

“What happened?” she asks, sitting up straighter and putting her math worksheet aside.

You wave her off, your hand barely lifting above your hips with the weight of your exhaustion. “Anomaly,” is all you offer, dropping your bag inside the door of your bedroom and swerving off to the bathroom for a much needed wash.

In the shower you dwell over the fight with Miguel. You were no stranger to his bad moods, his tension and stress over managing the stability of the multiverse. You’ve seen him get annoyed, frustrated even, with the other Spider-People. You’ve even been on the receiving end of his irritation a few times, unable to resist joining the others when it was just so easy to tease him.

But you’ve never been on the receiving end of his criticism like that.

Even as you ruminate under the warm water, letting it wash away the sweat and slight blood from when you reopened the scrapes again, you find your mind turning towards the last time Miguel had visited before Gwen came to stay. More than steam gathers on your eyelashes as you cross your arm over your chest, a hand gripping the opposite shoulder. You quickly shove a flash of the woman you’d failed to save out of your mind, letting your mind naturally fast forward to what had come after: Miguel taking care of you.

The shirt. The glass of water. The frustration at your tangled blankets. The soothing hands on your spine as you cried–

Fuck.

You press the side of your hand to your eyes.

“Do you want tooo… talk about it?” Gwen asks when you finally emerge from your room, clean and dressed. You hope your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel, but based on her tone you’d wager against it.

“About what?” You ask flatly, moving through the living room to the kitchen. You open a cabinet, stare, close it. Open a second one, repeat, and the same to the fridge. Nothing sounds great, but you know you need to eat, so you return to the second cabinet and take a protein bar.

“About your clearly very long day,” she says, now standing on the other side of the kitchen counter that separates it from the living room. She gives you a pointed once-over with her eyes.

You sigh, putting your post shower sloppily re-bandaged hands against the counter edge to lean your weight against—and immediately regret it, pulling them back with a wince.

Gwen frowns slightly.

“Alright, alright,” you say, you wave her towards the living room and join her on the couch. “I just– fuck.” You put your feet up. “Work was fine. Spider… was messy. Just… a couple things back to back, and then I was having a sandwich, and there was an anomaly, and Miguel–”

Gwen shifts towards you slightly, sitting up imperceptibly straighter.

“He was just… Ugh! As if it’s my fault that I–” you wave your hands through the air before pulling them back to your body and closing them. Your face is getting hot, your eyes warm. “Like I can’t keep up-” you cut yourself off— the ‘P’ at the end of ‘up’ barely makes it past your lips—and huff a frustrated breath through your nose, lips pressed shut.

Gwen still sits next to you, eyebrows raised. One leg is pulled up with a knee tucked to her chest as the other dangles, and it’s the hem of her leggings on the leg on the couch that she fiddles with as she thinks, eyes moving to the coffee table.

“I’m not gonna pretend like I understand whatever it is the two of you got into it about, based on that… extremely detailed story,” she starts, a teasing note of sarcasm in her chosen words. “But… he’s like that, sometimes. He just… I don’t think he knows how to show he cares, anymore.”

You sigh. “This was… It was like he was blaming me for getting hurt.”

Gwen stays silent.

You sigh again, deeper this time, tiredness replacing the last bit of anger in your body in one large swoop. You sink further into the couch. “I don’t know.”

You open your protein bar, forcing yourself to take a bite. The hurt in your stomach and the leftover anxieties of the day twists your stomach in protest of the food, but you chew and swallow a bite or two anyway.

“Well… if Miguel is going to apologize to anyone, I think it’d be you,” Gwen says, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

You chuckle, roll your eyes. “Right, yeah.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow at you, skeptical, and then shakes her head as if she’s decided against whatever she was going to say. The two of you sit in silence while you go through the motions of eating.

“Oh!” You say. “I forgot. I got you something.”

Gwen’s eyes follow you as you rise from the couch and go to your bedroom, digging in your bag before tossing her a small black rectangle. She catches it easily, examining it.

“It’s a prepaid flip phone,” you say. “My number’s already in it. Figure this is less conspicuous than Miguel’s watches whenever you’re here and one of us is out casually.”

She grins at you, snapping it shut. “Thanks. That’s really smart."

You smile. “I’ve been known to be smart on occasion. Now,” you flop back onto the couch. “Can we please watch something stupid?”

“Sure,” she laughs easily, lightly, and some of the heaviness leaves your chest.

You've never been away from HQ this long. Not without seeing… well. You don't go with Gwen when she finishes her homework early to trade it in for more. You don't pop by for social calls.

And you definitely don't get any calls routed your way through Lyla for backup.

Even with the somewhat accelerated healing given to you by your spider bite induced powers it takes four and a half full days for the scrapes on your palms to close, less for your arm and leg. Even then, the skin is still tender for another two.

You prioritize your own dimension. Work is good. Being the Spider has its challenges, as it always does. But you manage, even when your hands are still mangled. Even though pushing through it means they take longer to heal.

And you absolutely, definitely, don’t ruminate on the argument with Miguel.

Nope. Definitely not.

Gwen is still staying with you, the end of her second week of sleeping on your couch is near. Occasionally she leaves to help other Spider-People who call for backup, but she always comes back to your apartment.

She’s gone tonight, when you drag your feet across the threshold of your front door, and she hasn’t gotten back by the time you finish cooking yourself a simple meal and settle into the couch, bones weary from a long day.

Your watch beeps from inside your bag that you had unceremoniously dropped on the end of the counter closest to the door. It’s the first sound it’s made since before the fight with Miguel almost a week ago. You get it out, slap it on, and answer the call.

It’s Gwen.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m going on a mission, so I won’t be back for a little bit.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, sitting up straighter. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she affirms, twice. “Did you know there’s a Shakespeare dimension? Like with a Shakespearian Spider-Man and everything?”

You laugh. You hope it doesn’t sound as tired to her as it does to you. “That’s wild.” A pause. “Are you coming back here after, or taking a turn at Hobie’s again?”

“Probably gonna go back to Hobie’s for a while. His whole villain situation is settled for now, so there’s no interfering with canon, and we haven’t gotten to play music together in a while, so…” She shrugs.

You nod. “Yeah, totally. Well, lemme know if you need to come by and get any of your things. I’ll have them in my closet for you again.”

“I will,” she smiles.

“And Gwen?’

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe, okay?”

Her smile changes, something softer, a little more serious. “You too.”

Sleeping with an empty apartment feels strange the first night she’s gone, and you realize having her there on the other side of your door had begun to feel like a natural part of being home.

The next afternoon you dare to return to HQ, prompted by a voice call from Peter.

“You know,” Peter says when you step out of the portal, “I don’t think anyone here has gone this long without seeing you around HQ.”

You give an awkward laugh. “It’s barely even been a week.”

May leans towards you, chubby little fingers reaching out at the end of her chubby little arms. Peter lifts her out of the baby carrier, handing her to you. You avoid his pointed look.

“Hi May!” You say instead, bouncing the baby in one arm, the other hand firmly in her tiny grasp. “Did you miss me?”

She blabbers.

“Sure did,” Peter says. “I don’t think she was the only one, either.”

“Aw,” you say in a teasing tone. “You miss me too, huh? You’re soft, old man.”

“”Course I missed you, kid.” He watches you with May, hands on his hips in an all too familiar stance. “But you know I don’t mean just me.”

You fall silent, your smile faltering into a slight frown. Peter doesn’t push the subject.

His watch beeps.

“Peter.”

You pause in your bouncing and mumbling baby talk to May when that voice pops out of Peter’s watch. Peter glances at you, lifting his watch to speak as he angles away from you, just slightly.

“Hey boss, what’s up?”

“You’re late.”

Peter slaps his forehead. “Right, right, got caught up. Be right there.”

Miguel doesn’t wait for a reply, and you hear the small sound of the connection ending.

“Shoot,” Peter says. “I uh, totally forgot there’s that monthly meeting—You’re coming, yeah?”

You pause again, and there it is. The warm eyes, the twist in your gut.

“I… um, I didn’t know it was today.”

Peter actually freezes this time, mouth open in the tiniest ‘o.’ “You didn’t…” he starts under his breath, like he’s speaking his surprise out loud without meaning to. “Oh, uh…�� the awkwardness is still obvious in the way he forces a casual voice, the way he fumbles to put his hands back on his hips. “I’m sure that was a mistake. You should come along anyway.”

Before you can protest that ‘ No, I’m almost entirely sure this was an intentional exclusion,’ he’s turned and started marching away at a speed you almost find impressive, leaving you there with an open mouth and unvoiced arguments.

And you’re still holding May.

Damn it, Peter.

You close your mouth, and hurry after him before May can get the idea to leap from your arms and hurt herself by chasing her father unsupervised.

Peter stays about twenty feet ahead of you the whole chase to Miguel’s lab—and yes, you call it a chase because damn it, he keeps glancing back to make sure you’re still following him, and the two of you are drawing looks from the other Spider-People (and cat) as you speed-walk past them.

If the daggers from your glare at his fluffy pink bathrobe could physically manifest, Peter would be a dead man.

Peter disappears through an entryway, his bathrobe whipping around the corner like a cape.

“Peter.”

“Where’s Mayday?”

You’re so caught up in the chase you don’t have time to stop, only realizing that Peter had successfully lured you there when you’re spilling through the entrance.

Every head turns to look at you, and you stumble to a stop, your fixed glare on Peter replaced by a sheepish smile. “Uh, hey.”

Nobody seems surprised to see you, so you deduce they didn’t know you weren’t invited.

“She’s right here!” Peter says in answer to Jess’s question about May’s location, scooping her from your arms. “She wanted some time with our pal here.” He kisses the top of May’s head, and the baby giggles, unaware she’d been used as a pawn in his sick game of–

You feel a burning gaze on the side of your face, briefly wondering if your own glare had malfunctioned and started doing damage to you in place of its intended target of your new enemy Peter B. Parker. But when you look up, it’s familiar red-brown eyes that are locked on yours.

You’ve seen Miguel look stiff, but not like this. Not like someone had poured ice into the back of his suit, like he’d been caught by Medusa herself and remade into stone.

You feel just as frozen.

It’s Ben Reilly who breaks the spell. You don’t quite catch what he says, something about thinking you’d met a tragic demise he’d have to avenge and never recover from, another harrowing memory to add to his collection. But his voice directed at you breaks you from the cryo-freeze of Miguel’s own ambushed gaze, and you turn to greet him and Jess and the other members of the inner circle gathered in the lab.

You join them, the group gathering into a loose circle, realizing only when the attention shifts off of you and onto Miguel that you had grown tense under so many eyes. Still, part of you warms at how happy the group seemed to be at your arrival.

The meeting begins—a rundown of every new Spider-Person of note, all the major anomalous events over the past month: frequency, scale, the patterns, the damage.

Miguel avoids looking at you the entire time. His eyes don’t even flick over you, instead when he looks from one side of the group to the other, his gaze darts down, or up to the projected images, before landing on someone else.

And then, during the listing of major anomalies, Venture pops up. A headshot of the electrified cyborg hovers in the center of the group, his name, dimension, and other statistics listed beside him like an ID card. You’re familiar with these by now, things such as height, powers, who had brought them in. This card bears your name and dimensional ID number in that spot, despite the fact that Miguel had been the one to finally take him down and quite literally brought him through the portal, a fact that surprises you.

But not as much as the last stat, the one that lists this Venture’s dimensional ID alongside the name of his original Spider-Man.

Dimension: #209.

Original Spider-Man: Miguel O’Hara.

“Woah, wait,” Peter says, lifting a fuzzy pink arm to hold out his hand like a stop sign. “There’s another ‘ Spider-Man ’ Miguel?”

“...Yes.”

“Woah, I thought most of you were civilians.”

“Are we going to bring him in?”

“Of course, it’s policy right?”

“I don’t think I could handle two Miguels…”

You glance from the holo of Venture to look at Miguel right when he looks at you, the first time he’s done so since you first entered the room. He freezes, his lips slightly parted, and you see his breath catch in his chest.

Instead of ice this time, it’s… You don’t know what it is, and based on the look on his face he doesn’t either. But the glint of light in his eyes almost begins to look like regret.

Someone says his name, and when he looks away you can breathe again.

Peter, standing next to Miguel, is looking at you. You avoid looking back.

“Did you have a Venture?” Peter asks, letting May play with his fingers.

“I did. He was the first adversary I encountered after my… after I gained my powers.”

Every other Peter present bursts into a million questions, flying from every direction all at once and stopping only when Miguel lifts a hand.

“The Venture of this dimension is of no concern right now. Right now, we need to decide who is going to invite the Spider-Man of Earth-209 to join us.”

Discussion quickly turns practical. When it’s agreed that two people should go for double the convincing power and someone suggests your name as one of the two, he quickly shuts that down with a quick shake of his head, and an enigmatic “I have my reasons.”

You bristle, clenching your fists at your sides.

Eventually it’s decided that Jess will go with Peter, on the condition that he can take Mayday home first, and with the meeting concluded everyone begins to trickle out. Peter passes by you, patting a gentle hand on your shoulder as he does.

“I’m still so gonna kill you,” you whisper at him, no real bite in your voice.

He grins. “Oh, I bet.” He nods his head back towards Miguel. “But stick around a minute, before you do.”

You glance over at Miguel, who’s turned his back to most of the room and is doing something on a screen currently hidden from your view by his broad shoulders.

Peter pats your shoulder again, two pats in quick succession, and then he’s gone. The last of the Spider-People present are quickly filtering out behind him.

You hesitate, feet itching to carry you out with the group, but you stay. You try to tell yourself it’s because Peter asked you to, and not because you can see the tension in Miguel’s back and definitely not because you are quietly debating whether or not to try to help or to make it worse by snapping at him.

You opt for neither, waiting to see if he’ll acknowledge you. You know he knows you’re present, Lyla having said something quiet to him containing your name as the last remaining Spider-Man of the meeting had left.

He doesn’t.

So you leave, silently slipping out the door to portal home from a different part of HQ.

As a result you don’t hear him sigh, or see him finally turn to face you just after you’ve left, or the way his face falters when all he sees of you is the tail end of your feet stepping out the door.

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[tojisbbygworl]

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader epilogue

Summary: Two anarchists thought one night was all they had. Only one of them accepted it.

Characters: Mentioned-Miguel, Gwen

Featured-Hobie, Miles

Words: 4,090

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, Hobie needs a hug, Sexually Explicit Thoughts, Mentions of Sex, Yandere if you squint, Doesn’t follow ATSV events, Miles/Gwen 17+, Hobie and You 21+Yearning, The authors barely disguised obsession with Older Brother Hobie/Younger Brother Miles head cannon, Slight OOC

author’s note: the moment y’all have been waiting for, the angsty epilogue and the FINAL part to JFTN. This lil series was very fun to imagine and I’m gonna miss these two, Ik y’all will too.

Okay have fun hope y’all cry!

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

"Come on...come on..." Hobie's tongue rested on his upper lip as he concentrated on finishing his latest project...his own interdimensional watch.

It was easy, really. There's so much tech laying around HQ that Miguel won't notice a couple gadgets missing from his arsenal. Hobie was a master of pick-pocketing and Miguel should know better. In fact, he should have expected this, what with being the leader of an elite group of superpowered geniuses. He bets he's not even the only one who's made their own and everyone else is just keeping it under wraps. Or at least, that what he tried to tell Miles.

"Don't listen to that arse," he had whispered to him upon leaving Miguel's 'lair', as everyone liked to put it. It was the day after their little get together and Hobie's...ahem...escapades. As he had expected, they were caught. It's really all Hobie's fault for staying with Y/N so long, but Miles definitely placed all the blame on himself. Miguel was his usual annoyed and angry self, but since it was directed at them, and Miles was such a people pleaser, he scared him good. Miles looked like a ghost leaving that room with Hobie. "He'll forget about it in a week, trust."

Unfortunately, his words went unheard as Miles continued to stare at the ground while they walked. Hobie pat him on the back. "Oi, cut yourself some slack. So you got in trouble for the first time, there's many more to come what with a boss man like that."

"Y-Yeah..." the kid managed to squeak out. Hobie frowned feeling regretful. It hurt seeing him so dejected. Needless to say, Hobie would not be asking Miles to dimension-hop any time soon, not that he would even want to.

Gwen gave Hobie an earful too; Miles was so afraid of being caught again that he only wanted to meet at HQ, much to her displeasure. "You better fix this," she said, finger waving angrily in his face.

So, here he was, many months later with his 3rd prototype, hoping and praying that it would work. He already ran the idea across Miles who swiftly rejected it. He was shocked at how many things Hobie had to steal to work on it, and his conscious would never allow for that. That's fine, Hobie can do all the stealing for him.

"Why are you doing this anyway?" Miles asked him on his 2nd prototype.

"Why not?" He obnoxiously responded. Miles huffed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I want to see my bro again without Miguel hounding him for it.” He suggested. “Gonna make you your own when I’m done with this one.”

Miles held his hands up and shook his head. “Woah, nuh-uh. No sir. I don’t want nothing to do with that.”

Hobie shrugged. “Fine, then. I’ll make it for Gwendy instead.”

He seemed fine with that, and Hobie knew that at some point he would warm up to the idea of having his own watch. Until then, he didn’t mind traveling over to Earth-1610 whenever he could.

Hobie had to be completely honest with himself. Them getting caught and Miles’s paranoia was the the original reason he began this project, but it wasn’t the only reason. There was someone else he was trying to see on Earth-1610.

Since that day, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Often times he was caught daydreaming by his friends and colleagues alike. Hobie was never someone who had their head the clouds, it was very jarring to see. During these moments he was remembering her sweet voice, her amazing personality and even better music taste.

He had so much respect for her and what she’d been through. He wished he could just give her a hug. Pick her up and take her to where she’ll be safe. With him. For as long as possible.

He also remembered how mesmerized he was seeing her face for the first time. And her body. Her tits constrained by her fishnets with her nipples pressing against the string. How sweet she tasted while she gushed into his mouth, how good it felt when she squeezed herself around him, and wishing he could have came inside her instead of a condom. He’s become the owner to many injuries during missions and countless teasing from his band mates.

All the more reason to finish this watch as quickly as possible. Clearly, his brain was telling him that he needed to see her again. He needs to hear her voice, feel her touch, lick her clit, make her scream his name.

Okay, he was getting a bit carried away, but the point was, as time went on, the ache in his chest grew, and found himself missing her more and more. He’s been spending all of his free time on this hunk of junk, he needed to finish this for his own sanit-

There was a small beeping sound. Then, light.

“Oh, shit!” He exclaimed as it turned on. So as to not fuck it up, he placed it down gently onto his desk and backed away from it. When he tried to turn on the 1st one, it sparked then died. And the second turned on completely only to blow up in his face soon after.

He took in a deep breath, “Okay.” Grabbing the device with his sweaty hands, he pressed a few buttons. 1-6-1-0.

He stepped back and watched the portal open. He gave himself some time to calm down after jumping around and pumping his fists in the air, took another deep breath, and walked in…

…only to end up inside of his own bedroom.

“Ugh,” he threw his head back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. So he created a watch that could make portals, just not inter dimensional ones. That’s okay. It’s a start. Next time, he’ll get it.

~

Okay, so he didn’t get it next time. This time, it goes to the wrong universe. It’s always nice seeing Spider-Sun anyway. It’s cool. It’s whatever. Next time.

~

So he didn’t get it right again, what’s the big deal? So what if this one only goes to one universe even though his last watch could do multiple? Next time for sure.

~

It caught on fire.

~

It melted.

~

This one just fell apart.

~

By the 15th attempt, Hobie was burned out. At this point, he was just doing it out of boredom. He was close to calling it quits, but something was telling him not to give up. The next one, for sure.

“Pfft, yeah right.” he scoffed to himself after turning on the 16th and final prototype. If this one didn’t work, then that was it. Gwen would just have to deal.

He stared at the forming portal in complete disinterest. At least it turned on this time, but he had the strongest feeling that this one was defective. Why wouldn’t it be? All the other ones were.

Hobie sighed and walked through it, ready to end up in the middle of a jungle in some other dimension. “Just one last time…”

~

Y/N’s not sure what she’s still doing awake. It was extremely late and she had accepted an early booking tomorrow. She should be asleep, it’s never good to tattoo when you’re sleepy. However, her body just refused to relax.

She was bored as all hell scrolling through Instagram and Twitter on her phone. There was nothing else better to do. She already smoked, ate, and gotten ready for bed. From her laptop the theme song to Pretty Little Liars echoed through the room.

Almost every night was this way, relaxing in the comfort of her own home, a show playing on her computer or music through her speaker, eating pasta, a joint in her hand. And as calming as it was, as much as she needed this serenity in her life, she wished there was more.

She’s not entirely sure what she means by ‘more’. She goes out with friends a lot, but after an hour or two, her head starts to hurt from the weed and alcohol and all she wishes is to be in her soft comfy bed. No, she definitely didn’t mean partying or nightlife. She had the smallest inkling that there was something out there. Something bigger than her. She wanted it so badly, but she doesn’t even know what ‘it’ is.

The last time she felt any sort of rush or excitement was months ago, the night of the concert. Whew. That man, Hobie, was the finest looking thing she had seen for a while. She doesn’t know what got into her that night, telling him all her business like that. Was she insane?

Was he? He did tell her he had killed a cop, and he proudly wears his achievement. As he should. She really really liked that about him. His boldness. And he wasn’t just that, he was also kind and respectful, even though she would have let him do whatever he wanted to her without having to ask.

He wasn’t afraid to let her know that he wanted her, badly. And that was probably the most attractive thing about him.

She woke up that morning feeling stupid when the cold bed made her heart pang and eyes water. Why was she even sad? This is what they agreed on. He finished the roach with her, took down her hair, fell asleep sucking on her tit, then left at some point during the night. No problems, no complaints. Maybe that’s what made her so sad.

She wished he stayed until she woke up, or at the very least, shook her awake when he was getting ready to leave. But, it’s on her for having a crush on him.

It got better as time went on. She still missed him dearly, but she began to accept that he was just one of those people you meet once and then never see again, but that you’ll never forget. She does know that if it was possible, she would be open to seeing him again, but it wasn’t.

Hobie wasn’t the only guy who had been plaguing her mind for the past few months. Recently, she found herself becoming more intrigued with Spider-Man. He was an enigma, no one really knew much about him or where he came from after Peter Parker’s death. She heard he was Puerto Rican, which she thought was pretty cool.

What intrigued her was sometimes Spider-Man wasn’t around. It happened around a year ago, now. He used to be everywhere. At every problem in Brooklyn from petty crime to another monster of the week. At some point last year, some crazy scientist at Alchemax had turned himself into a lizard and almost turned everyone else in the city into one too until he came flying in at the last moment. After that, it’s been extremely close calls. Y/N’s friend, Kailani, witnessed the whole thing from where the both of them were supposed to meet up. She said Spider-Man came in through a portal in the sky. Weird.

Things always turned out right in the end. Somehow, someway, he would show up eventually. But Y/N wondered, what could be keeping him so occupied?

The water from the shower turned off and she heard the curtains draw. After 15 minutes of rumbling in the bathroom, the door opened. She put her phone down to acknowledge the presence in her bed room. “Still awake, ma?”

She nodded although knowing he was about to join her made her eyes a bit heavy. Mattias turned off the light and hopped in bed. With his head on her chest, she felt warm and comfy as he completely engulfed her body. He was shirtless and had his arm around her waist. That along with the insulation from the blanket almost made her knock out.

Mattias put her phone on the nightstand. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said jokingly.

“You always looking at that thing,” he answered. “Time to give me attention.”

“Well that’s too damn bad ‘cause I’m about to go to sleep.”

He smacked his teeth. “So you can be awake all this time but as soon as I want to get in bed with you, you want to sleep?” She didn’t answer, giving him a fake snore as a response. “Ight, then.”

He starts to roll over in the bed until she grasps his torso. He laughs and adjusts the both of them so that her head was laying on his chest instead. “You still want to go to sleep, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” she says, her brain already shutting down.

“Go to sleep then, pretty girl.”

Ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of her head to check her blinds, she drifted off into a deep and comforting sleep, her last thoughts being Hobie, Spider-Man, and the unknown. She could feel in her heart that there was more to the world than it seemed (apparently scientists are theorizing the existence of alternate dimensions) and she desperately wanted to know more about it. Maybe even see it for herself. But, right now she was just a girl (wanted felon but whatever) who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn, working at a tattoo and piercing shop and occasionally getting involved with dudes from Queens like the one laying in her bed currently. He probably wouldn’t be there next week and the week after there’ll be a different one. And she was okay with that…

…Hobie was far from okay.

When he stepped through the portal he walked to the edge of the building’s rooftop. When he looked at the gigantic Koka-Kola billboard he knew he was in the right place. “Finally,” he yelled. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, an overwhelming sense of pride filling him.

On another billboard, the time was 1:01 am. “Shit,” he said to himself pulling his mask over his face. He immediately got to swinging towards where he remembered she lived. “I hope she’s up.” And even if she wasn’t , he would come see her another day.

When he turned on the corner of her apartment building, he let out a silent “yes”. He could see her room light was on through her window. But, before he could reach it, he paused and took a second to think.

How was he going to greet her again? It was 1 in the morning, and she hadn’t seen him for a while. She thought she would never see him again. How would she feel about him knocking on her door right now? How would that make him look?

Hmm…maybe he didn’t think this through all the way. He should go then come back at a better time…but, what time would be better? He doesn’t know her schedule and he won’t know what time it is. Shit…what should he do?

Okay, maybe he won’t talk to her tonight. He has to come up with a better plan. But, at the very least, he just has to see her.

His heart grows frantic as he swings to her rooftop. He jumped side to side for a minute and took some deep breaths to psych himself up. Then, he climbed off the roof and down to her window. To anyone else, this would have been creepy and an insane invasion of privacy, but Hobie couldn’t find it in him to care. He ignored everything in him telling him this was a bad idea.

He should have listened.

When he first laid his eyes on her again, he felt the butterflies he felt that night, but tenfold. She was just on her phone, obviously bored. He wanted to kiss her and watch her poker face turn into a cute smile. She looked adorable with her little bonnet and oversized t-shirt. He was so busy admiring her that he failed to notice the man walking in until she acknowledged him first.

Watching some guy waltz into her room like he lived there, pants hanging low and his shirt missing almost made him fall. All he could do was stare as that same guy plopped onto her and her bored look became happy. Hobie watched the two of them fall asleep in each other’s arms then crawled back to the roof and sat on the ledge.

His mask made him expressionless, But underneath it, he was hurt. He looked at his hands in defeat. He tried to be numb, but then he continued to think about what had just happened. He was desperate to see her again, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss all her problems away. Now that he had his new watch, he could have had something with her. But he couldn’t think that anymore.

His chest twisted and curdled in anxiety and dejection. He had to admit it, he was heartbroken. He knew the two of them had a connection that night. He knew she felt it. The second round was just as good if not better than the first. She rode him in her bed slowly and sensually. His voice cracked so much that night, she had him absolutely gone. ‘I wish I could stay inside you’. Why would she tell him she wanted the same? Was it just sex?

He’s being ridiculous. He knows what happened: she moved on.

He didn’t want her to. He really didn’t want her to. He should have told her that he would see her again. He should have…done something.

Hobie lifted his legs and turned around to sit down on the roof. With his legs angled and knees in the air, he pulled off his mask to reveal his anguished face.

Hobie looked into the night sky. He was way too hung up on this girl. Look at him, sitting on her roof fighting tears because she has someone who isn’t him. Serves him right for getting a crush.

Man, maybe Miguel has a point about universe-hopping.

bonus

Tap Tap Tap

Groggy as all hell, Miles blinked slowly as the sound on the window woke him up. He looked in annoyance quickly shifting to happiness then worry once he realized who it was. “Hobie?” He checked the time on his phone that was charging next to him. “After 1:15 in the morning, bro?”

Miles stood up and cracked his back. Hobie moved to the side as the window opened and took off his mask. “‘Ight man, what’s up? Anomaly? Miguel?” He sounded dead tired, but once he saw his downtrodden expression, his nerves were on 10. “You okay?”

It wasn’t the first time they sat atop the dormitory’s roof, but it felt different now. The mood was serene but heavy. Hobie hadn’t really said a word, just messing with something in his lap. He had started climbing and Miles followed.

Hobie was sitting up with his legs crossed whereas Miles laid on his back a bit of a distance away. His hands behind his neck, he stared at the star speckled dark blue sky. Every once in a while he stole a look at Hobie’s back. It was beginning to scare him just how quiet he was. He seemed out of it, he’s never seen him like this before.

But, he wouldn’t push him if he wasn’t ready. Maybe he just needed to be with someone right now.

Still, he wanted him to say something. “So,” he started, Hobie turning his head only slightly to indicate that he had heard him. “You finished that watch then?”

He smirked and huffed. “Yeah, I did.”

The small joy Miles felt from getting him to talk was fleeting. Hobie tensed up again and went back to fiddling with said device. He couldn’t believe how excited he was to finish this thing…to see her.

He sighed and laid on his back as well. Miles held his breath waiting for him to say something. “Miles…I’m sorry.”

The boy furrowed his brows. “What for?”

“I don’t think I ever properly apologized for getting us into trouble like that.” A distant star passed through the sky. “I know how much this job means to you. I was being reckless.”

Miles smacks his teeth and smiles. “Man, don’t even worry about it.” He closes his eyes. It was nice to hear that apology, even though he would never dream of holding what happened over his head. “I know what you was doin.”

They laughed together. Then, Hobie’s small smile faded and it got quiet once more. “I went to see her again.”

“I thought so.”

“She found someone.”

Miles hisses and rests on his elbows to look at him. “Damn,” He sits up fully. “I’m sorry, bro. That must suck.”

Hobie sighs. “Yeah. Lil’ bit.”

“Hey, don’t feel too bad. I bet she missed you just as much as you missed her.” He comforts. Hobie thinks about what he said for a minute. He hopes he was right. He hopes she wanted him to come back to her, but accepted that he wasn’t.

“That’s a nice thought,” he answers. ‘Missed ’ was an understatement.

From the way he grew quiet again, Miles could tell that Hobie’s heart was very heavy. He didn’t really know what to say. Miles wasn’t exactly an expert in relationships, or women in general; he was still trying to figure out his. But, he knows that if he ever found out Gwen was seeing someone else, he would need a big fat hug. So that’s what he did.

He got right next to Hobie and squeezed his shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Hobie nodded and looked into the sky.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know…”

“…Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Will you at least watch over her for me? Make sure your dad doesn’t get his hands on her, yeah?”

Miles laughed. Of course the only girl he’s ever seen Hobie get choked up over is wanted by the police. To which extent, he didn’t know. And he really didn’t want to find out. “Yeah, I got you.”

bonus bonus

“You’re fucking lying.”

“I’m telling you, girl. Cameron said he saw Spider-Man outside your window.”

“What was Cameron doing outside at 1 in the morning?”

“Who cares what he was doing? Spider-Man is keeping tabs on you. Maybe you’ve been targeted by an evil scientist. Or some shit.”

“Stop playing.”

“Spider-Man might be following you around. Tell him I said hiiiiii~.”

“Bye, girl.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N hung up her phone. Tati had frantically texted her in the middle of a piercing walk-in saying it was an ‘urgent matter’. Thankfully, her client was cool enough to let her answer while she continued.

“What was that all about?” The boy asked her. He was a nice kid, and very nervous for his first piercing. The whole situation was a bit strange. He walked in with a friend and a guy that looks absolutely nothing like the either of them who couldn’t shut up about how he met Spider-Man the other day. Then he signed the written consent form and dipped.

“My home girl calling me about some crazy shit,” she answered, almost done preparing her station. “She thinks Spider-Man is spying on me.”

The boy cackles really hard and wipes his eye. She didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever floats his boat. “What?” He wheezed. “That’s insanity.”

“I know, right?” She took the alcohol wipe and cleaned his cartilage. He started shaking a little, and she could see how small his pupils were. He was also…really sweaty. Teenage boys.

“You okay?” She asked. “You didn’t eat, right?” He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said nervously. He was a bad liar. “Just…excited.” A really bad liar.

“Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.” She clamps his ear and he yelps. The both of them stare at each other. “This yo last chance.”

He takes a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay then.” She grabbed the needle and prepared to puncture it through his ear. He was trying so hard to be brave but man this kid was afraid. She laughed a bit. “I promise it’s not that bad…what’s your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Mi-AHH!” It was over just as quickly as it started. She was right. It wasn’t as bad. Now he just had to worry about what he would tell his parents when they saw him with it. “…miles…”

“Okay, Miles. We’re all good.”

ending a/n: okay now that’s it! Y’all ain’t getting nothing else from this lil series so don’t ask!

Fr tho guys, this was rly nice to write. Hobie is a lil OOC to me here but I can’t help but write men being absolutely obsessed with their girl it’s my favorite flavor.

Also thank you for choosing the epilogue for those of you who did bcs not only do I not have any business starting a whole new story while I’m literally in the middle of two, I really was gonna break yalls hearts with the story. Y’all would have been MAD AT ME! Shit, I would have been mad at myself.

Anyway, pls check out my other ATSV fics and Toji if you’re into him. Finish this off by saying please go see Rico Nasty live before you die, stay super freaky, have great vagina, I luv yaaaaa🩵

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