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0blobthefish0 · 8 months ago

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Partygirl Part 2

leighton murray masterlist | main masterlist

Part 1

Leighton Murray x Female Reader 1769 words

a/n - finally, it is here! i literally had this all written out except for the last part before the 17th, but I am incapable of writing cute date scenes, so this'll have to do 😅

You stir awake and your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you screw your eyes shut. Throbbing pain was incessantly stabbing at your brain, there was no way you didn't have any nerves in there because all you wanted to do was take the damn thing out. What the fuck did you drink last night, the whole bar?

Letting out a defeated sigh, you slowly opened your eyes and brought a hand to your head in an attempt to soothe the ache. Wait..

You froze.

Where were you? You questioned as your eyes adjusted to the dark. God, did you actually follow through with a one night stand? You could now hear, and not to mention feel, the soft puffs of someone breathing. You chewed on your bottom lip, nervously, as you wracked your aching brain for a solution. You nearly choke on a gasp when you feel a pair of arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against the other person.

Your eyebrows furrow - boobs? What the hell happened last night? And you almost feel proud of yourself until, you realise that you're still fully clothed, and now you feel horrified; how did you half fail a one night stand?

God, this was so embarrassing.

But then, you smell something familiar, expensive, and you finally pull yourself together enough to take a peek at the mystery person.

You hear yourself squeak and a hand flies to cover your mouth and you can't tell if looking was a good idea because, somehow, your heart is beating faster than it already was. You feel her hand slip from your waist and you feel as if your soul has lifted itself outside of your body.

"Y/n," you hear her croak out, her voice thick with sleep.

You let a stretched-out moment pass before replying, "Yes?"

"You okay?" She whispers softly, and you move to lay on your back.

"Yeah, I just- I wasn't expecting to see you there," you explain and Leighton can hear the nervous smile in your voice.

"You were pretty drunk last night," she recalls and she sees you wince in response. "There's some aspirin outside, if you want."

"Ugh, yes please," you say quickly.

You're sat on the sofa when Leighton passes you a bottle of water and an aspirin before taking a seat next to you. You pop the pill into your mouth and take a swig of water, smiling softly to yourself when you find that the bottle was already open. Your pounding headache seemed to dissipate instantly, it may just be a placebo effect, but you were thankful for it nonetheless, and you turned to her with a relieved smile.

"Better?" She questioned and you nodded your head. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, just listening to the quiet through the darkness that no longer seemed so dark.

Leighton couldn't help but be thankful that the room was still dark, otherwise you most likely would have picked up on the pink tint that was dusting her cheeks. The image of you pulling her in close, your hands on her face, the way you looked at her with those drunken eyes and your voice when you called her pretty was all that she could think about. Goosebumps began to litter her arms as she shook herself out of her daze.

"I should probably get going," you announced quietly and Leighton turned to see you hugging your arms.

"You could always stay y'know? I'm sure your roommate wouldn't be too happy with you," Leighton inputted, "and you do live in the other building." You had to fight the hopeful feeling from growing as you turned to look at her; did she want you to stay? No, she was just being nice, anyone sane would offer the same.

"Really, you don't mind?" You smiled sheepishly.

"No, I wouldn't have offered if I did," she shrugged and got up from the sofa to stand in front of you. "But you need to wear something more comfortable first cause," you watched as Leighton eyed your outfit before lightly shaking her head and gave you her hand to help you up from the sofa.

Quietly, the two of you made your way back into the bedroom and you stood beside her as she rifled through her draw for something for you to wear.

"You can get changed in here, or step outside if you want," she whispered to you as she passed you a pair of neatly folded clothes. You nodded your head in reply, quickly spinning on your heel as soon as you saw Leighton reach for the waistband of her jeans. You took a moment to collect yourself and settle your nerves before swiftly slipping out of your dress and pulling on Leighton's shirt and shorts.

"Done?"

"Yeah," you whispered quietly and turned to see her slipping into the bed.

Leighton watched you as you moved closer to her; something about seeing you in her clothes was making her stomach erupt with butterflies, you looked cute. She didn't know why she did it, maybe it was the time of night, or maybe it was an unconscious decision, but she opened up her arms - inviting you in closer - and to her relief you accepted and crawled into her.

"I meant it, y'know?" You confessed and let out a slow yawn.

"Meant what?"

"Nothing, sorry, I'm just tired," you whispered sheepishly, your one second of courage quickly leaving you as soon as those words left your mouth. What you wanted to say, was that when you had drunkenly told her that she was pretty, you were being earnest. You felt Leighton nod her head above you and then the two of you slowly drifted off to sleep once again.

---

You saw Kimberly send you a small smile and you made your way to their table, food in hand.

"Speak of the devil," you hear Bela sigh out as you place your tray on the table and taking the empty seat next to Leighton.

"Why are we talking about me?" You questioned.

"Bela's in a mood-" Whitney began before being promptly interrupted.

"Why didn't you two fuck?" Bela nearly shouted accusingly.

"Woah-"

"Okay! No need to be so crass."

"Just because we both like girls, does not mean that we automatically want to jump each other's bones," you defended with a hushed voice, hyperaware of the people around you.

"Speak for yourself," Bela mumbled, upset, taking a not so discreet jab at Leighton.

"Hey," Leighton gaped, "you're the one that encouraged me!"

"Yeah, I guess I did. I'm just mad, my ship needs to sail; like you literally have all of the materials, get to building!" You shook your head at that with a slight laugh and soon enough the conversation drifted away from the two of you.

You took a forkful of your lunch before turning to Leighton, the movement catching her eye.

"How'd your quiz go?" You asked her.

"Uh- yeah! It was um," Leighton was struggling to hide her shock, she had only mentioned the quiz once, maybe twice, a week ago, "it went well," she nodded with a smile on her face.

She couldn't remember if you said anything after, too concentrated on the way that she was feeling and the way her face was heating up, so much so that she had to turn away and focus in on the conversation at the table.

---

The following week flew by quickly. You were resting on your bed, the relief of finally sitting the exam washing over you, when you felt your phone vibrate. You felt for it and at seeing the caller ID you squinted suspiciously.

"Leighton?"

"Hi."

"Are you.. okay?" You questioned with confusion; Leighton never calls you.

"Yeah, I- is your roommate there?"

"No, she wen-"

You stared, dumbfounded, at your dark screen. She hung up.

knock. knock. knock.

The fuck?

Almost cautiously, you get out of bed and tip-toe your way to the door before cracking it open ever so slightly and then swinging it fully open.

"Leighton? Are you sure you're okay?"

Standing before you, in all her glory, was Leighton Murray dressed to the nines like she always was whilst you stood in pyjamas. It wasn't even necessarily late, possibly just half-past six, but you enjoyed living in comfort.

"Of course, never better," she replied, moving into the room after you turned to the side to let her in.

In reality, Leighton had never felt so anxious in her life. If she hadn't called you on a whim, she most likely would have been back in her dorm by now. She spun around as you closed the door and, were those her pyjamas? She had let you keep them that night, and just seeing you in them was giving her whiplash to last weekend.

"I want to ask you out, on a date," she stated. "I know you said that thing a few days ago about how just because we both like girls we aren't automatically attracted to each other or whatever, and that other thing of people in a relationship should be in different friend groups, which was basically a big fat sign saying 'we're just friends', but you honestly make me feel insane and I can't stop thinking about you like all the fucking time and maybe, hopefully, you like me back or maybe I'm just crazy and delusional and all the signs are just figments of my imagination."

You stared at her with a growing smile as she ranted and now she was partly out of breath as she searched your eyes, and swallowed nervously.

You nodded your head tentatively and Leighton took a small step toward you.

"I need you to say it," she whispered softly, the words barely passing her lips, her wide, Bambi-eyes on you. She needed to know it was real.

"Yes," you nodded again, "I'd love to go on a date with you." You saw as she visibly relaxed.

"When are you free?"

"Umm.." you began as you sifted through the busy days ahead for a potential gap.

"Now?" Leighton offered and your eyes snapped to her.

"I mean- yeah?"

"Great." You felt Leighton take your hand and begin to lead you out of your room.

"I'm not changed."

"You don't need to be, plus you look cute in my pyjamas."

"Yours? They're mine now," you grinned as the door shut behind you and the two of you made your way out of the building.

"Do you have a plan?" You questioned as you stepped outside.

"Drive."

#female reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #wlw #fluff #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #the sex lives of college girls #Blob's fics

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rose-pearls · 2 years ago

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mentor!finnick x tribute!fem!reader

maybe this is a year or two after finnicks victor

maybe reader had to be extremely brutal in the games and when they come back theyre covered in blood and just traumatized and finnick has to comfort them

Hi! Thank you for the request here it is, hopefully you like it!

The arena is in a blur in front of you, the last tribute dead at your feet while your hands tremble so much that the knife falls out of your hand.

“Hey, listen to me. Are you okay with having blood on your hands during the games?”, the words of Finnick come back to you and although you had assured him before, that it wouldn’t be an issue. You can’t seem to be able to hold back the want to wash your hands a thousand times at the sight of them.

There was blood on your hands, thick dark red blood from the female tribute of district one. But you knew that there wasn’t only her blood on your hands, blood of the other tributes you killed but also the ones she killed. In the end you had the blood of every dead tribute on your hands and suddenly you wished you could go back and tell him you couldn’t do it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner of the 68th Hunger Games-”, they announce your name loud and clear but the only thing you can see is the blood, nothing else is making sense.

A helicopter sound makes you aware that you are still in the same spot as when you gave the female tribute the final blow and you look at her. The blond hair along her shoulder is covered in blood and her eyes are wide open, wounds litter her body just like yours, but she is dead, and you’re alive.

The strategy had been simple, entering the usual career pact and staying around for as long as needed, your district partner had died quite early and that had left you more defenseless in their eyes. You had found some poisonous plants and had decided to use them when cooking dinner, three careers died. The only survivor was the girl from one, but you hadn’t known that until the evening.

The rest of the games were a blur of killing people and nearly dying but somehow you made it, you had just won the Hunger Games. It should be a pride, that is why your parents had set you up at the academy in district four, and yet the only thing you felt was disgust.

If someone had to ask you if it was worth it winning the Hunger Games, you would tell them that it wasn’t. Not when you felt like you couldn’t breathe without seeing their faces, their pleading eyes to not kill them.

Someone helps you up the helicopter and you don’t what happens around you; voices are screaming everywhere, and people try to take the blood of your hand, but it seems difficult.

It had dried up on your skin, under your fingernails leaving a trace that even if they took it off of you, you would still remember it on your hands.

The door opens up as you leave the helicopter, not sure how you are even able to see or make your feet move but one voice manages to break through the daze.

“Hey! Hey!”, Finnick is looking at you with wide eyes, worry can be seen in them, but you aren’t able to read them like before. Too busy trying to wrap your head around all of the bodies that will be returned to their parents because of you.

Your knees buckle and you nearly fall to the ground before a panicked Finnick manages to catch you.

“Listen to me.”, his voice says clearly and after a moment you nod slowly.

“They are going to take you under, to heal your wounds and everything and after that we’ll talk. Alright?”, his tone is pleading, like he is willing you too go along with the plan so you just nod, just wanting everything to stop turning around in your mind.

A doctor comes to you, and you don’t hear what he is saying, looking at Finnick’s shoulder but you feel something puncturing your skin and you feel drowsy before falling on Finnick.

Everything is a blur when you wake up, the smell of hospital makes his way to your nose, and you try not to feel sick. You start moving your fingers before looking at your arm in surprise, the last time you had seen your arm it was open due to a knife wound but now it looked perfect. All the scars that you had during your childhood seemed to have been taken off your skin.

“They take off every scar you’ve ever had to make you look perfect as the winner.”, a soft voice says next to you, and you turn to see Finnick there.

“Hi.”, you manage to croak out and your mentor smiles at your attempt.

“Hi yourself. Here drink something and try to eat.”, he says and after giving you a glass of water and helping you drink it you turn towards a small plate of food, a frown appearing at the sight of it.

“It might look lite it’s nothing right now, but your stomach got smaller because of the games so you won’t be able to eat much.”, Finnick says after chuckling and you slowly start to eat, quickly feeling like your stomach is full and not being able to eat the rest like he had said.

“How are you feeling?”, he asks after a moment, looking unsure at the question.

“I don’t know.”, and it’s true, deep down you don’t know how you are feeling.

“I wanted to win, because it’s what I’ve been taught to do but the moment I won I felt like it wasn’t worth it at all.”, he nods at your words and looks at you sadly.

“it’s not going to be easy after the games, but I know you can do it.”, he tells you and you know he isn’t going to tell you everything just yet, so you sit back down.

“How do you sleep at night?”, you can’t help but ask after a moment, memories of the games coming back around, and you don’t know how you are going to survive the nights full of them.

“By trying, even though there will be nightmares I still try to sleep and sometimes it works but sometimes it doesn’t. Talking to people helps you but only for so long.”, you know he is trying to be honest with you and even though it hurts you can’t help but be grateful.

“I know what you feel like right now and I can’t tell you that every day will be easy, but I can tell you that you are not alone. You have your parents, Mags, the other victors and me.”, he whispers the last words a bit later and you turn to look at him.

“I think I realized that I cared more for you then I thought I did.”, you whisper and Finnick smiles softly at your answer.

“I did too. Seeing you in there was hell.”, he whispers back, and you feel emotional at his words, not knowing if it’s because of the lack of sleep or the drugs.

“You mean so much to me that it’s scary.”, he says after a few minutes while chuckling, looking at his feet with a smile.

“Why is it scary?”, you ask him, wanting to know what was holding him back.

“Because it’s the things we love the most that destroy us. Or so I’ve been told.”, he says, and you can’t help but feel happiness bloom in your chest at the words love.

“Love is dangerous, but there is more to life than staying safe.”, you tell him after a moment, and he chuckles at your words before taking your hand.

“I guess it’s time I’m the brave one in here.”, you smile softly at him while looking at him and taking your time of noting every detail.

“You’ve always been brave, just in your own way.”, Finnick squeezes your hand, and you squeeze it back.

The two of you stay there, holding each other’s hands while talking about anything you can talk about, not wanting to think about what’s to come. You don’t know what you are just yet, just that the two of you love each other and for the moment that’s enough.

And although there is darkness to come and darkness in the memories it would show you with time just how important Finnick will always be to you.

#hunger games fanfiction #hunger games finnick #the hunger games #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #finnick odair

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year ago

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Okay, either the scientist knew she was preggo or they just thought she was going through hormonal changes or whatever, there is NO WAY CROWLEY DOESNT KNOW THE HUMAN IS PREGGO.

Also, how much should I bet that Cater is just going to keep the whole world updated with every single DETAIL.

Oh, Lilia is going to have a FIELD DAY WHEN THE BABY IS BORN, same for Trein, he’s probably going to love it.

Referring to this fic snippet here:

Okay, to be fair, I forgot to mention that the events take place shortly after Yuu's arrival. Probably between chapter 2 and 3 given the timeline we have, which puts it at about...two, three weeks after the prologue and shortly after Riddle and Leona overblot.

As for the scientists/researchers, while logically speaking they would immediately jump at the chance to come to the island to start their studies, they first had to make sure these pictures circulating on Cater’s Magicam posts were legit first. Once it is established through a video or two that was posted, that's when they reach out to Crowley to make the arrangements!

And they actually arrive a week after the pregnancy announcement, so you can bet that they are very eager to get some studying done as quick as possible! 😂

As for the staff not realizing that fem!Yuu is pregnant, they are aware of what a pregnant monster's scent is like for sure. But because there hadn't been a human in centuries, even if Crowley was old enough to have been around humans, it's not like he remembers the scent off the top of his head! The staff would all essentially be like those confused cats and dogs trying to figure out what this strange bump is and why their human smells funny before instinctively feeling protective.

Can you just imagine Crowley building a nest for Yuu without realizing just *why* he was doing it in the first place? Or the blank stare he'd give the moment someone asked him like, "...why am I doing this??" and it only becomes clear shortly after the announcement, in which he tries to pretend he knew all along 😂

I'm also reminded of this one post where OP's cat had had multiple litters in the past and was so excited when OP got pregnant that the kitty kept trying to show her to the nest she made for OP's "kitten", and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever read 🥹

Anyway, you can bet your bottom madol that Cater will absolutely be keeping EVERYONE updated on Magicam throughout the whole process, and he is getting flooded with baby picture requests 🤣 It's also sweet how mothers come across the posts and try to offer advice that they'd learned on raising their kids, which is nice, though not all of the advice would really be practical based on species 😅 But at least they're sweet enough to offer that and words of encouragement! I can even see some inviting Yuu to a mother's support group meeting ;;v;;

You can also bet that Yuu will be receiving a lot of baby shower gifts and such from Cater’s followers. At least they don't have to worry about needing to buy diapers for a while! 🤣

Ooooooh yes, Lilia is going to be ecstatic to be able to hold and care for a baby again! He will offer to help watch over the little one (hadn't decided on a gender or name yet for the new baby) so Yuu can take a break, though don't worry about him trying to feed the baby his cooking. He learned and knows that milk is important for the baby, so he makes sure to have the bottles readily available even at Diasomnia~ (though Silver and the others make sure to keep an eye on him when it comes to feeding time just to be on the safe side)

Trein has already raised two daughters, and while he may not be interested in raising another, that's not to say he won't wind up spoiling the little human baby like any grandparent would! He'll also offer a shoulder for fem!Yuu to lean on and reassure her that she's doing a great job as a mother ;;v;;

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #faun speaks #fem!yuu

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thescarletnargacuga · 8 days ago

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Regular digital circus showtime fic thats just

Caine (in a doctors outfit): Worry not pomni! As soon as i figure out what horrible illness is plaguing you i will not rest until you are cured!

Pomni: Caine for the 17th time it is litterally a minor cold.

Caine: I WILL CURE THIS ILLNESS FOR MY AMAZING WIFE OR DIE TRYING!

SNIFFLES

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

Pomni wasn't feeling one hundred percent. Still well enough to stand with the others and listen to Caine prattle on about the day's adventure, but she wanted to go back to bed. Her eyelids felt heavy and, despite not having a nose, felt the need to sniff mucus back every few minutes. She took a long sniff, loudly announcing to the room that she wasn't feeling her best.

Caine stopped talking almost immediately. "Pomni? What was that?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing. Keep talking. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Oh my goodness gracious gravy. You're sick!" He zips to her and sweeps her off her feet. "Not to worry, my dear, I'll have you feeling better in a jiffy!"

"Wha- Caine!" She holds onto him for balance as he zooms off.

The other circus members watch Caine fly away. "So...we adventuring today or not?" Jax asks, looking at Bubble.

"How should I know? I'm a bubble." Bubble spun around in the air without a care in the world.

Pomni plopped down on an examination table. Bright florescent lights illuminated a doctor's office space. With a flourish, Caine's tux turned into a white doctor's coat and his cane turned into a clipboard.

"Caine, I'm fine. It's just a cold."

"It is most definitely not fine!" Caine rests his fist against his hip. "You are my wife. As your husband, it is my solemn duty to help you in any way I can."

"I appreciate that, but-"

"I will find a cure for this illness OR DIE TRYING!" Caine clicked his feet together at attention.

"Caine, please-"

"Now, now, just relax." Caine pushed her back to have her lay down on the examination table. "Leave everything to me. First, I should check your blood pressure. Since you have no blood in the digital realm, I'll have to improvise."

He strapped a bottle of ketchup to her arm and then wrapped the cuff of the sphygmomanometer around both. He squeezed the bulb to inflate the cuff until the bottle of ketchup burst. "Hmm, seems a little low." He tapped the ketchup covered gauge.

Pomni wiped ketchup off her face. "It's just a cold, Caine." She deadpanned.

"Now, to check your ears- wait, I forgot you don't have any. Uh, I suppose I could check your reflexes." A giant cartoon mallet appeared in his hand.

"Ah!" Pomni rolled off the table before the mallet came down. "It's just a cold!"

"Pomni, I need your full cooperation if you want to get better." He tossed the mallet away, a cartoon crash along with a cat's yowl sounded. "Oh! How could I forget, I need to check your throat! Say ah!"

"What? Mmph!!" Pomni nearly gagged when Caine shoved one of his eyes into her mouth.

Caine held his hand over her mouth for a few seconds before letting her spit out his eye. It bounced off the floor, to the wall and back in place through the back of his mouth. "I didn't see any fuzzy purple spots. This is most troubling. You're supposed to have at least three per corner."

"Caine, STOP! It's JUST a COLD!!"

Caine flinched at her shouting. He shrank down to the ground, tapping his fingers together nervously. "I'm...doing too much again, aren't I?"

Pomni sighed. "No, you're not doing too much. You're working yourself into a tizzy and not listening to me. Your anxiety deafens you to the point that I have to shout. I don't like doing that." She rubs her arm, looking away.

"I just-....I worry."

"I know you do, but even when you worry about someone, please listen to what they have to say."

Caine hung his head. "I'm sorry..."

Pomni put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm not mad. I'm glad you care so much in your own unique way. If it helps, I'll let you play doctor a little longer, but I assure you, it's just a cold. I'll be fine in a few days."

"Okay." Caine held up his stethoscope. "Can I listen to your heartbeat?"

Pomni hopped up on the table. "Of course." She sat still for him as he gently pressed the chestpiece against her.

Caine heard only a quiet buzz of static. Normal for a digital avatar. He went to pull away when Pomni held his hand to her chest.

"Ba-bum...ba-bum..." Pomni repeated rhythmically.

"What are you doing?" Caine arched his top teeth quizzically.

"It's what a human heart sounds like. I'm just playing along." Pomni smiled.

Caine smiled back, holding the chestpiece in place a little longer to hear Pomni mimic the steady beat of a real human heart. "Sounds healthy."

"It is. It gets a lot of exercise when I see the most handsome AI in the whole world."

Caine blushed and giggled. "Stahp, I bet you say that to every AI."

"Nah, just the one I married." Pomni leaned towards him with come-hither eyes.

Caine smirked, leaning in with her. "Lucky fella."

"I'm the lucky one." Pomni softly kissed his bottom teeth.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc showtime #tadc caine #tadc pomni #pomni x caine #caine x pomni #tadc caine x pomni

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years ago

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sort of a fantasy/ angst scenario i’ve been thinking about… (I love your writing so much - maybe this is something?)

When Steve goes through a misunderstanding and breakup that has him socially exiled, everyone is mad, and feels justified when he disappears - they assume the worst of him and that he just up and left without telling anyone.

Years later - on the tail end of a series of unexplained natural disasters around the world stopping miraculously, he shows up - surrounded by a small group of people with a similar haunted look in their eyes and littered with more scars, maybe a hand that too metallic to be real.

Aka Steve is visited by a group of strangers, claiming he’s some sort of prodigal son of a Prophecy - disappears to end the apocalypse and shows up, years and a full hero's journey later, changed - and the others have the grapple with the fact that they’ve been wrong the entire time.

Or bonus - he never ends up showing up at all - a stranger shows up at their door during a party family gathering, battleworn, letter in hand about a burial taking place at the edge of town at dusk.

This was an INSANELY GOOD request. Like this could easily be a 100k fic, so I hope you're okay with me having very little backstory. I want someone to run with this ASAP. I didn't do the bonus part, but I stuck with a lot of the first part of it. Again, this was so hard to keep short, so I do hope someone makes this AU really deep and really solid. I don't know if you took ideas from a bunch of different fantasy novels or what but man this is gooooood shit. I hope I was able to do at least some of this justice! - Mickala ❤️

-----------------------------------------------------

Steve Harrington did not give up. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Which is why he was leading his battleworn group back home.

It’s been years since he stepped foot in Hawkins, years of war, disaster, and pain. But walking through the gates of Hawkins was the scariest and bravest thing he’d done in five years.

Dustin limped along next to him, his leg hurt, but not broken. Max was on his other side, left eye blind and left arm broken, but in good spirits overall.

Lucas and Erica fell behind him, both physically fine, but mourning the loss of their parents in the latest earthquake.

Steve had given them an extra day before making the journey back, made sure they had a way to lay their parents to rest despite the chaos surrounding them.

Robin had gone ahead of them to announce his entrance, wanted to make sure that the town was prepared.

When Steve left five years ago, the only people who knew were the people currently with him. They followed him, without question, the moment he said he had to go. They were children when they left, could barely offer anything but their support at first, but over the years grew into the type of soldiers anyone would be lucky to have on their side.

He broke Nancy's heart, he broke his promise to his parents to stay in Hawkins until he turned 21, and the world broke around him.

He made a choice that day, a difficult one, but one he hoped gained him the respect of the people he left behind.

“How are you feeling, Steve?” Dustin asked quietly as they approached the outskirts of town.

“Could be better.”

“Could be worse,” Max added.

That was their answer to everything.

“Steve, wait!”

Robin was running towards them, nearly tripping and falling on her face every few steps. She had incredible aim when it came to shooting and throwing, but ask her to take more than five consecutive steps without tripping or otherwise hurting herself and you would be shit out of luck.

“What is it?”

“You have to wait. It’s bad. It’s real bad.”

She was out of breath, which was odd since she was in surprisingly good shape for someone who couldn’t run.

Steve looked past her, watching as a small group of people on horseback approached.

She turned to see them, then turned back around and let her head fall.

“Shit. Okay. So your parents are dead. Everyone who was ever in power before? Dead. Hopper? Dead.”

Hearing this should have been more upsetting, but Steve was used to losing people. He was used to losing nearly everyone. And to hear that his parents were gone was more a relief than anything else.

He could hear the people talking in the distance, could feel the ground shaking with the efforts of their horses.

There weren’t many, maybe only six or seven, but enough to keep Steve feeling a bit protective of his group.

They were tired. They’d been through enough.

He didn’t want to fight, but he would if he had to.

“Who are they?”

“Soldiers. Everyone that’s left are soldiers or farmers.”

“Steve Harrington! It’s been a while!”

He knew that voice. Not well, and obviously it’s been five years since he’s heard it, but he knew it.

Who was it?

“Interesting that you choose now to show your face again! We survived the worst of everything without you, I’m not sure why you expect us to welcome you with open arms.”

Eddie Munson.

Steve would know those long, curly locks anywhere.

Steve didn’t recognize anyone else with him, but that was probably for the best.

Eddie got up close to his group, but didn’t pull any weapons.

He didn’t want a fight either. Interesting.

Steve lost his hearing in his left ear nearly three years ago, at the same time he lost most of his left arm. He tried not to let it show as a weakness, especially to people who could be a threat, but he was having trouble hearing over the wind blowing.

“I’m sorry for coming somewhat unannounced. We ran out of supplies to write over a month ago, and money to send a messenger even further back.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

They had money. Not much, but enough to get by. Certainly enough for a messenger if needed. Steve just didn’t want them to know that, not if they were desperate for things like he suspected.

He wanted to help, not give away everything he had.

“If I let you in town, you’ll be dead by morning.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everyone blames you for everything. You left and we had a flash flood the next day that took out half our crops. A week later, half the town fell ill with an unknown plague that killed almost everyone who caught it. The earthquakes took what little we had left and that was before the looting from surrounding towns attacked us for months on end. You were nowhere to be found. Our “golden child” couldn’t bother to come help us. Forgive me for being hesitant to want you around now,” Eddie snarled.

Steve could see the way everyone behind him reacted to Eddie’s words, could feel the worry coming from his own group.

They didn’t deserve this.

“All I ask is you allow my soldiers here back to their families. I’ll be on my way by morning and won’t use any resources. Lucas and Erica lost their parents and will be staying with Dustin.”

Eddie looked them all over, frown on his face.

“Dustin? Henderson?”

“That’s me,” Dustin piped up, always braver than people expected him to be.

“Claudia’s son? She thought you died.”

Steve could hear the emotion in his voice, like he’d had to say that too often, like it was true too often.

“I almost did many times, but I’m here.”

“She’ll be pleased to see you,” Eddie said, though his voice sounded different, a bit more emotion behind the words. “And you?” He turned to Max.

“Only her mom is alive as far as we know,” Steve supplied the bare minimum.

They heard a lot of things, but didn’t know how old the news was by the time it reached them.

“Mayfield?” A man from behind Eddie asked. “I recognize the hair. Your mom’s been workin’ at the pub. Serves beer to the soldiers at the end of their shifts.”

“Sounds like her.”

Max wasn’t all that fond of her mom, never had been, but she still wanted to be reunited with her, even if only temporarily.

Steve had been telling the truth about only staying until everyone in his group had found their home. He knew even before coming that he didn’t want to go back to his own.

“Robin wishes to find work here, settle away from her own home. It’s not safe for her there. She’s a fantastic shot and knows many languages, could be useful as a soldier or a teacher,” Steve hadn’t let Robin know ahead of time that he didn’t plan on staying. She was under the impression before now that they would settle here together, maybe find wives and share a farm. “All I ask is that she gets a fresh start and is not associated with my name.”

“Why do you think you’re in any position to ask for favors?”

“I’m not. I realize that asking for any favors is asking too much. I’m just doing what I can to help the people who have helped me for years.”

Steve watched as Eddie considered, clearly taking into consideration the fact that everyone surrounding Steve had someone waiting for them in town, whether they knew it or not.

“You’ll all come with us. Including you, Steve. But you will stay with me for the night so that no harm comes to you. Many people in this town wish you dead.”

“Including you?”

“To be determined.”

Eddie turned on his horse, and the rest of his group followed.

Steve nudged everyone forward, hoping that by putting them first, he could avoid questions from them.

But that was easier said than done.

“You didn’t say you were only planning to stay one night!” Dustin whisper yelled.

“You were going to leave us?” Erica asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“What if something bad happened when you left?” Lucas added.

Robin was busy helping Max along the rocky path, but she kept sending glares at him over her shoulder.

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome here. You all deserve to be here with your family and friends. I can find a new place.”

“What about us?”

He ignored the question.

They would be fine, and he would be…well, probably not fine, but alive.

They followed Eddie and his group in silence after that.

When they got closer to the main road, Eddie stopped and hopped off his horse.

“The guys will take the rest of you into town. Steve will need to sneak in. This is not up for discussion and if you don’t agree, you can leave.”

Steve gave everyone a look that said if they tried to argue, he would cut their arms off. He wouldn’t, but the look must have been convincing because no one said a thing.

“You all can come to my house tomorrow to say goodbye to Steve. The guys will tell you where it is. Do not come together and do not bring anything with you. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, giving Steve quick nods before they were led away.

“Hop up,” Eddie said from right in front of him.

When did he get that close?

“I’m sorry?”

“It’ll be less suspicious if you look like a guard. She’ll lead you to my home and I’ll walk a bit behind. If you run for it, we’ll find you.”

“I’m not dressed like a guard.”

“Everyone is off duty sometimes. But you’ll wear my cape to cover your clothes. You look like you lost a few fights.”

“I did.”

Eddie grimaced.

“I think we all have.”

Steve didn’t push, didn’t want to test how far Eddie’s patience and kindness would go.

He hopped up onto Eddie’s horse, settling into the saddle quickly.

Eddie didn’t give him much of a chance to get acquainted with the beautiful horse he was on before he touched her neck and she was off. Eddie laughed at Steve’s shocked face.

He hadn’t ridden a horse since he lived in Hawkins.

It was freeing.

He arrived at Eddie’s cottage much faster than he thought he would, surprised to see that Eddie lived along the outskirts of town, just past the first few rows of trees in the woods. It was solitary but still had easy access to the main road.

And it was cozy.

Steve could tell Eddie liked his quiet time to himself, just from the entrance to the cottage.

A small shelf held his weapons, though probably not all of them, and a table that looked hand carved held letters and drawings.

Steve made his way further inside, trying not to be nosy, but needing to know more about Eddie before he arrived.

The cottage was small, almost entirely all one large room. No couch, only a single rocking chair in the corner and a small stack of pillows next to a bookcase filled with books. The kitchen area was just enough to get by, only a small table and two chairs to sit at.

He walked into the only bedroom of the house, where the only bed was messily made, and clothing was strewn across the floor.

If he intended to keep Steve here all night, was he expecting him to sleep on the floor?

Steve had slept worse places, he supposed.

“Have you gotten all the information you need from snooping or shall I come back later?”

Steve jumped. He hadn’t been snooping, just looking, but Eddie snuck up on his left side and he hadn’t heard a single hint that he arrived.

When he turned, Eddie did look slightly apologetic, but didn’t say so.

“I managed to snag some fresh bread for us to have with the soup I made last night. It’s not very flavorful, but it’ll do,” Eddie said as he took off his boots and threw them into the corner of the bedroom.

“I won’t eat your food. I told you I wouldn’t use any resources,” Steve reminded him.

“You look like you’re one missed meal away from collapsing. You need food. I have food. You’ll eat.”

Eddie walked out of the bedroom and Steve had no choice but to follow.

They ate in silence. Steve didn’t even feel like he should be sitting at the same table as Eddie, but he didn’t have much choice when Eddie set a bowl of soup down and gestured for him to sit.

Steve didn’t know what to make of him.

—--------------------------------

Steve cleaned up, insisted on doing that much to show his appreciation. Eddie decided not to argue, told him he was going to change and wash his face in the bucket of water he had in the bedroom.

Steve waited for him to be done.

“Are you tired?” Eddie yelled from the room.

“A bit.”

That was an understatement.

Steve hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time for five years. His body was constantly exhausted, and now that he was in an actual house, he could feel his body giving up.

Safety usually did that.

But he couldn’t really know for sure that he was safe, couldn’t know that this wasn’t a trap.

“I have something you can change into for bed. It’s not quite clean, but it’s not dirty either. Come change, I’ll get the fireplace going.”

He’d almost forgotten that the night would be much cooler, that without a fire, he would likely have caught a cold or spent the entire night shivering.

Another reason to be grateful for Eddie.

He didn’t want to be in this position though, owing someone. Especially not someone who could ruin his life or those he loved.

He seemed like a higher ranked soldier, like someone most people listened to and liked, and one order from him could end Steve’s life.

Steve was good at defending himself, but he was tired.

He changed, ignored the way Eddie was staring at him as he did so, not wanting to answer any questions about his arm or the scars littering his body.

He was willing to repay Eddie in some way, but not with answers.

“I’ll take this side,” Eddie mumbled as he started moving the blanket on the side of the bed closest to the door.

“Um.”

“The bed’s big enough, just get in.”

Steve watched as Eddie got on his side, moving around until he was comfortable.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“Steve. Get in the bed before I send you to the stable.”

Steve wouldn’t have really minded that, maybe even preferred that, but he decided to listen to Eddie.

He got in on the other side of the bed, laying on his side facing the wall, taking up as little space as he could.

“Steve, just get comfortable.”

So, he tried. And surprisingly, he found a very comfortable position on his stomach. He used to sleep that way as a child, never having to worry about if someone would sneak up on him in the woods.

He figured the only person who would try to kill him probably already would have tried by now. Maybe he could actually get some sleep.

He sighed into the pillow, drifting off before he heard Eddie turn over and face him.

—-------------------------

Steve woke up slowly, his body warm and not sore for the first time in years.

He’d forgotten what it was like.

And then he started to take inventory of his surroundings.

He was cuddled into Eddie’s side, his face buried against Eddie’s stomach and hand wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s hand was in his hair, not moving, just holding the strands.

Steve was stuck like this.

Surely, Eddie would wake up and push him away and then he would be sent away as planned.

Surely, Eddie didn’t know this happened in their sleep.

He felt Eddie’s legs shift, then his hand.

A groan.

Steve tried to pretend he was shifting away in his sleep. He closed his eyes and started to turn away.

The hand in his hair gripped harder, kept him where he was.

“You ‘wake?” Eddie whispered.

Steve had two options: pretend to be asleep or say he was awake and possibly die.

So he stayed quiet, let his breathing stay slow despite his nerves. He kept his eyes closed in hopes that Eddie wouldn’t think he’d been awake at all.

“Good.” Eddie whispered. The hand in his hair gently carded through his fingers. “Sleep as long as you want. You need it.”

Steve couldn’t cry like this, it would give him away, but the softness of Eddie’s voice, the gentle way he was holding him, it was all too much.

He bit back the tears, and adjusted himself slightly so he could hopefully fall back asleep.

—-------------------------------------------

When he woke up screaming, Eddie was holding him, rocking him back and forth to calm him down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re okay,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head.

He was shaking, and crying, and had to get away from Eddie. He couldn’t show any more weakness.

He tried pulling away, but Eddie wouldn’t let him go.

“Steve, wait. Calm down first, okay? You’re barely breathing.”

He knew that. But he needed to get out.

“Air.”

“Okay,” Eddie said.

And then Steve was in Eddie’s arms as he got up and walked over to the window.

Steve knew he wasn’t as big as he should be, often only ate what was absolutely required to stay alive. But Eddie lifted him like he was lifting a small bag of food, and put no effort into carrying him across the room.

He adjusted Steve in his arms, until Steve was wrapping his legs around his waist and one of Eddie’s arms supported him. His other arm worked open the window, and he let out a small grunt when it got stuck about halfway.

Steve was too busy crying to worry about anything else that was happening.

Eddie held him next to the window, the cool air slowly filtering through the room and into his lungs, waking him up all the way and helping him focus.

But once he could focus, he realized where he was. He realized what he was doing.

He started to drop his legs down, but Eddie didn’t let him.

“Darling, you need to relax. Take some more deep breaths.”

Darling.

Steve looked at Eddie.

Eddie Munson had called him darling before.

”Steven! Come say goodbye to Wayne!”

Steve made his way downstairs to say goodbye to his family’s personal guard. Once a year, he left for two weeks to visit with his cousins in a town nearly a day’s travel away. The second in command usually covered for him, but this year would be Wayne’s nephew, Eddie’s, first time taking his place.

He was the best of the best, and not just according to Wayne.

And he was only two years older than Steve.

Steve loved Wayne, had considered him to be more of a dad than his own dad most of the time.

He crashed into Wayne, face buried in his chest.

At 16, Steve was too old to act like this, but Wayne didn’t believe that anyone was ever too old to give or get a good hug.

“Alright now, it’s alright. It’s just two weeks, son.”

Steve hadn’t noticed that Eddie was standing to the side, serious face to represent his very serious job.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said.

“You know I’ll miss ya too. But Eddie will take care of you all just fine.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then back at Wayne.

“He won’t bring me a cup of mead after my parents go to bed, though.”

Wayne laughed and looked over at Eddie, who was refusing to look at them.

“I’ll be sure to bring you two when I get back.”

And then he was gone.

Steve’s parents left the same day for a trip to visit the farms up north.

Steve was alone in the house except for the help and guards. And Eddie.

He hated being alone.

He woke up from a nightmare that first night, shivering and crying silently.

There was a knock on his door, and he felt like he might still be in the nightmare.

But Eddie peeked around the door and Steve relaxed slightly.

“I brought you mead,” Eddie said as he came into the room holding a mug. He paused when he saw the state Steve was in. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Eddie was next to him in a heartbeat, setting the mug on the table by his bed. His hands were cupping Steve’s face, checking him for injury.

“Just a nightmare,” Steve breathed out, still trying to center himself.

“Darling, you’re barely breathing.”

Steve’s eyes looked up at Eddie’s, searching for something, anything that would tell him why he just called him darling.

“I’m okay,” Steve finally said.

Eddie’s hands were gone, but the concern on his face remained.

“Do you need anything?”

“Could you stay?”

Steve hated asking, he hated being vulnerable with anyone. But he hated being alone more.

“I’ll stay, darling.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

Eddie hadn’t been unkind before, but he certainly hadn’t made it seem like he wanted to be friendly.

“Because I know you don’t deserve to be treated poorly.”

Steve watched as Eddie contemplated what he was going to say.

“I know about the prophecy. Your parents told me when you left. They sat me and Wayne down, explained how important it was to find you, to keep you here so that our town and the world wouldn’t suffer. I didn’t believe it, but then the flood happened, and everything happened, and we’ve spent years just trying to survive. And the only thing that made sense was that you left and this started.”

“They didn’t tell you the part of the prophecy that I knew, though.”

“I figured it out though. I learned the part they didn’t tell anyone. That if you stayed in Hawkins, Hawkins would be safe, but the rest of the country would burn. But if you left, you had a chance at saving everyone.”

Steve nodded.

“Darling, you’re so good.” Eddie cupped his jaw and smiled sadly at him. “You went out into the world to save it, risked your life to help all of us. It came at a cost, but so does everything.”

Steve was crying again.

“What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it when I lost the hearing in my left ear,” Steve started, but paused when Eddie’s finger started tracing along his left ear. “We were stuck in a town that wasn’t prepared for anything. I could feel an earthquake coming, it’s just the way the ground feels under my feet. I tried to warn everyone, some people listened, but. There was a little girl. She was alone in a shop. I couldn’t leave her there. I misjudged how far off the earthquake was, misjudged how bad it would be. Managed to push her out of a window before the building collapsed. I got stuck under a counter that fell on my head, knocked me out cold, then more beams fell on my arm. By the time Robin and Max got to me, they had to cut it off or leave me there.”

“And the prosthetic?”

“Got it about a year ago. Helped a family escape from a tornado, managed to save most of their possessions even, and one of them was the prototype for this. The man had it built in a week for me. It isn’t perfect, but it does what I need it to do.”

“You can’t hear anything out of your left ear?”

“No.”

“That’s why I scared you earlier.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve had to do this, darling.”

Steve shrugged.

“No, you should have never had to do this. I don’t know what changed in your mind to make you leave, and I’m glad you were able to help, but it should’ve never fallen on you.”

“I broke up with Nancy. I just had a moment when we were together, I realized she didn’t even know I liked having mead in bed. We were together for nearly a year, planned to marry, and she didn’t even know I liked drinking mead. It sounds stupid, but it just. It reminded me that on the first night you had to protect me, you brought me mead because you overheard me tell Wayne about it.”

Eddie looked at him with something like awe on his face.

“So you left because you broke up with her?”

“Yes and no. I broke up with her because I needed to for a lot of reasons, but I left because she was the only thing keeping me here. I knew I couldn’t ignore what my future was, and ignoring it would only make it worse for everyone outside of Hawkins.”

“But it was a suicide mission.”

“I had help.”

“The children?!”

Steve smirked and patted his cheek.

“Every single one of those children can outwit and outmatch you any day of the week. I guarantee it.”

“Whatever,” Eddie blushed. “So you’ve been out there for five years, basically alone, saving the country?”

Steve nodded.

“I-” Eddie shook his head. “And the nightmares, those are memories?”

“Mostly. Some of them take it a bit too far and go from memories to worst case scenarios.”

“You have them often?”

“Pretty often. Robin usually wakes me before they get too bad.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was happening until you were already screaming and crying.”

“It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time?” Eddie smiled.

“If you’d like. I’m not in a rush to go. I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

“You seemed pretty set on leaving tomorrow.”

“I didn’t exactly feel welcome.”

Eddie kissed his forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment before he whispered.

“Do you feel welcome now?”

“I suppose with a cup of mead, I might.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #robin buckley #fantasy au #hurt/comfort #sort of enemies to lovers #anon request #ficlet

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hughiecampbelle · 6 months ago

Text

Waves Pt. 1 (Kendall Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Kendall, Logan

Word Count: 1,518

Inspired By: Liquid Smooth - Mitski (Audiotree Live Version)

Requested: Ok I have no idea why I was so drawn to these but if any inspiration strikes, maybe a fic or something with Shrink from the description prompts and Clawfoot Tub from Object/Thing prompts. To me it vibes with Kendall but I'd be happy seeing it written with anyone that comes to mind - @locke-writes

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: Noah I'm sorry it's literally been a million years. I got bit by the writing bug this morning and I saw your request and I just wanted to hurt everyone's feelings lol. Please forgive me!!! I hope you're doing okay and that this isn't too late/total garbage!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist / REQUESTS ARE OPEN / Waves Pt. 2

He can close his eyes, he can plunge himself beneath the water, he can hold his breath until his lungs begin to burn, set fire in in his chest, exhaling smoke and ash, but, he cannot forget. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t anger. It was heartbreak. Pure, genuine heartbreak. It was visceral and agonizing and bloody. You were shattering before him, across the room for him, and he could do nothing but watch. Stare. Like a fool. An onlooker to the breakdown of a stranger, a pedestrian, instead of the love of his life. Shrinking deeper, smaller, until you were nothing but a mite atop the fabric of the cushions. Wine stem in shaking hand, a coffee table between you littered with various glasses and room-temperature alcohol. There was sweat of the outside, the ice cubes long forgotten, beading down into the coaster. Behind him, faintly, he can hear the rest of the party. A steady, low murmur of voices fills the pulsing air between you. His father, a man made of rot and stone, spoke those awful words to you, about you, right in front of you. He berated you. He spat at you. He called you a worthless nothing, an appendage growing from his son, sucking the life out of him. Sucking the blood and money from this family. Then, to him, he insists that he could find someone better, smarter, better looking. There is no rebuttal, there is no last straw, there is only a cowering of his spine, as if this lecture has been triggered by the roundness, proudness of his shoulders, his posture and chest. He braces for impact. He flinches. When his show is over, when the last lines have been spoken, he takes his bow and exits off stage.

There is an audience of two and no one is clapping.

Siently, your eyes widen and well up in tears. He swears, though he can't say definitely, he cannot verify yes, it truly happened, you let out a single gasp of air. A wretched sound to anyone listening. The screech of tires before it crashes. The burst of porcelain across the hard wood floors, the remnants scattering, running, scraping on impact. The wet squelch of a someone rummaging around inside of someone’s open torso, trying to find and stop a bleed before the patient dies on the table. It is unfinished. It is dirty. It is obscene. It is a sound one wishes to take back, to unhear. Childishly, he wants to press his hands over his ears. He wants to beg you to stop, please, please! But just as it occurs, it is over. A single gasp. A single breath. Proof of life. You were never one for the dramatics. Your personality had always been shy. This was no different. Wounded animals did not announce their wounds. Instead, they dragged themselves off into solitude and assessed the damage. He’s not sure why he knew this was happening, why this was going to happen, only that he does. He stands, his eyes never leaving you. As if on cue, you set your drink down and take your place parallel to him, on your feet. You don’t wipe your tears away. You don’t even realize they’ve fallen. You move towards the closet by the entrance. He tries to stop you, to help you, to comfort you, but all that comes out is begging. Pleading. Please don’t go. Please, y/n. Excuses. You know dad, he wasn’t- he didn’t mean it. Please don’t go. Please. . . You find your coat on the hanger and slip your arms through. It was beautiful today, the weather, but the nights get cold and vengeful and you have already been bitten. Your skin resembles the inside of Logan’s mouth: you are covered in teeth marks and spit. You were his chew toy, for a little while, for a long time, before he decided he was bored. Before he decided he was done with you.

He catches your arm, places his fingers around your bicep as if you are a lifevest and he a survivor of drowning. Scared. No, petrified, he cannot make full sentences. He stutters his way through something that does not resemble anything else. There are no apologies, from him or his father, so it must not be an apology. There is bargaining, but there is no deal. There is only a smattering of words that come to mind, a mess, a diaster of drastic proportions. No one else has notice the mess before you, preventing you from leaving. They have not bled out from the dining room yet. If you want this to be quick, painless, you have to do it soon. Wordlessly, you tug yourself free. You meet his eyes: hazel, warm, pooling with conflictions. You know this. You have seen this before. Torn in half: his left goes to Logan, promises that he will one day make him proud, his right throws himself into you, at you, and you must clean him up. You must clean up the crime scene. Even now, after what his father’s said, after what he’s been saying all the years you’ve been together, and still he can’t make up his mind. He can’t decide. You’ve grown tired of half. Half of him, his love, his attention. Half of the man you endured pain, and hatred, and disgust for. This family never liked you. This family never gave you a second thought. It was supposed to be worth it, being ith him, staying with him. How foolish you feel. How stupid you are, standing here, watching him go back and forth. You put your hand on his, squeeze it, before pulling away from him. You eye his form before the elevator doors shut. He wore the suit you loved, with the tie his father had chosen for him so long ago. His shoes resembled Logan’s, but his socks, the one’s you’d watched him pick out this morning, were one’s you’d gotten him this past Christmas. If he could have, if he had the ability, he would have cut himself to pieces and gifted half to you, half to Logan. He was already doing that, just without the wrapping paper and bow. Without the hacksaw. Without the gore.

He’d call your phone, over and over, listening to the familiar of your voice as it directs him to leave a message. He doesn’t stop until the box is full. His siblings make their jokes when they notice your absence. Cruel, harsh, Roy-like. He is grateful you are not here to listen, to hurt anymore than you already are. Logan pats him on the back, inviting him into his good graces as if the past hour hadn’t happened, as if your entire marriage hadn’t happened. Stunned, shocked, Kendall goes along with it. He tries to speak up, to stand up, but it is ill timed, ill received, and Logan shuts it down before it has the potential be anything impactful. I see y/n had better plans than to be here with their family. His defense gets stuck in his throat. He nearly chokes.

The water is cold, frozen, and he splashes in over his face. The look in your eyes. The gasp. Stop, he thinks, stop, stop, stop. You took the car and disappeared. He called and called and you never picked up. He thought, he hoped, you might be home, but when he let himself in the place was dark and uninviting. He searched for signs, clues you might have left him, but everything lay undisturbed. Tipsy and full of regret, he lets the faucet run in the tub. Had you been here. Had this whole night not happened, you might’ve joined him. He always felt the most at home here, with you, in the bath. You would have laughed at him, yelped that the water was too cold, before dipping your head under. You were so much braver than him. Now he sits, knees to chest, his back arched into a C. He is shivering and unhappy and cursing himself. If he could just say something, anything. If he had been doing it since you got together, all those years ago, instead of making you his fathers personal pin cushion. If, if, if. If he had been a better man, a better husband, a better son. Isn’t that what’s wrong, though? He was a good son, he was better than good, but he was not a worthy husband. All these years he watched you get torn down. He watched as something withered and died inside of you. But you still showed up. You braced yourself for impact. You laughed along to jokes made at you expense. And at the end of every night, every party, every event, you went home with him. Hand in loving hand. He didn’t know where you were, what you were doing, only that he was overwhelmed with the terrible feeling, while staring at the empty side of the tub, that he had made a horrific mistake that he could not take back.

#requested #writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #succession #succession x reader #succession imagine #succession fic #kendall roy fic #series

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agaypanic · 1 year ago

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hey girl! do you still write for stanley barber? if so, could you write about the reader having too many drinks and accidentally confessing to him??

Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts (Stanley Barber X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: To celebrate the end of finals and a nearing graduation, you and your friends have a little party at Stanley’s house. Being drunk makes you lose your filter, especially around Stanley.

A/N: takes place at the end of senior year, syd didnt killed brad, sydney x dina bc i love them

***

“Okay, okay, okay. Never have I ever…” You trailed off, trying to find the thought you just had. It took a second, but when it came back, you clapped your hands. “Got it! Never have I ever wrecked a library.”

You giggled while you watched Sydney groan, rolling her eyes as she sipped her drink.

“I’m starting to think you’re out to get me, N/n.”

“You know I love you, Syd-Syd.”

“Okay, my turn!” Dina announced, playing with the lip of her cup.

Dina was the one who had the brilliant idea to have a small get-together to celebrate your friend group passing your finals. It was a unanimous decision to party at Stanley’s house, which was often parent-free. He provided almost everything: the weed, the drinks, the tunes, the looks.

That last part was probably your drunkenness talking.

“Y/n.” The boy in question shook your shoulder, taking you out of your thoughts.

“Dina said, drink if you’ve had a crush on someone in this circle,” Sydney said, smirking at you before taking another sip. Dina teasingly raised her eyebrows at you.

Avoiding Stanley’s gaze, you took the last sip your cup had to offer. Although you knew everyone took a sip, Dina and Syd were the only ones who knew your little secret involving an infatuation with the curly-headed dealer. Plus, you were all well aware of the whole love fiasco with your three friends. It ended with Syd and Dina getting together and you and Stanley being two third wheels.

“Empty cup!” Stanley announced as you swallowed the last drop. Seeing the slight back-and-forth waving your body was doing, he plucked the cup out of your hands. “Maybe it should stay empty.”

“Nooo.” You whined, looking at him with a pout. Whatever Dina had mixed in your cup was definitely having some kind of effect on you. You lay down on your side, arm supporting your head. “I’m fine, I promise.” Stanley didn’t seem so convinced. “One more drink?”

“I dunno.”

“Oh, come on, Stanley! She deserves it!” Dina exclaimed, giggling at the unexpected volume of her voice. “She practically killed herself studying for finals. Give the girl another drink.”

Stanley sighed, standing up and going to his coffee table, which was littered with an assortment of liquor.

“Fine, but after this one, she’s cut off.”

***

You did not get cut off. The next few hours became a blur of more chugs and sips, a couple shots, and a few inhales from a joint Stanley had rolled for the occasion. Sure, you’d wake up tomorrow with a killer hangover and probably everlasting liver damage. But as they say, you only live once.

Everyone had been dancing to a record on Stanley’s player, jumping around to the beat and screaming the lyrics. You were lucky that no one else was home and that the neighbors couldn’t hear you from the basement.

While catching your breath, you listened to the next track play. It was a slow, somewhat romantic and sappy number. You found yourself moving towards Stanley like two magnets while Sydney and Dina wrapped their arms around each other to sway to the music.

“Aw, they’re so cute.” You whispered, which wasn’t really a whisper at all. But the couple didn’t seem to hear you. “It’s kinda gross.” You and Stanley giggled, watching your friends.

“Come on, dance with me,” Stanley murmured, hands guiding yours to loop around your neck before settling on your waist. You were lucky that your cheeks were already red from the alcohol because the close proximity made heat rise to your face.

“You’re so pretty, Stanny.” You blurted out, droopy eyes focused on his features. The boy grinned, letting a hand rub up and down your back.

“You’re totally drunk.”

“No, m’not.” You were. “Besides, doesn’t matter. You’re still pretty.”

“Well, you’re prettier,” Stanley responded. The two of you slow danced in silence, slowly forgetting that your friends were still a few feet away from you. You rested your head on Stanley’s shoulder, allowing him to press his cheek against the side of your head. “I think you bought me this record.”

“I did?” Your recollection was a bit fuzzy on the matter.

“Yeah. For my birthday.” Fingers gently raked through your hair, brushing some away from your face. “I really like it. It’s one of my favorites.” You hummed, secretly giddy that something you had given him was considered one of his favorite things.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“What?” You lifted your head off Stanley’s shoulder to see him staring at you. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face, but you hoped it was nothing negative.

“I’m in love with you.” You murmured. Embarrassment slowly bubbled up inside of you. This was so stupid of you, getting so drunk you lost your filter and told one of your best friends, who couldn’t possibly feel the same way, that you were in love with him. “Or, maybe not, I dunno.” You figured if you tried brushing it off quickly, he would forget it. You groaned, hiding your face in his chest. “God, forget I said it. I’m just wasted.”

He didn’t push you away; in fact, it felt like Stanley tried keeping you closer to him. Knowing you were now beyond embarrassed by your statements, he focused on the wall behind you so you wouldn’t feel his stare.

“Well, some people say that drunk words are sober thoughts.” Stanley twirled a lock of your hair with his fingers, hoping to comfort you in some way. “Since we’re confessing things now, I have, like, the biggest crush on you.” He felt you stiffen against him from the statement, continuing when you slowly relaxed. “What sucks is that we’re probably gonna forget this. Because, y’know, we’re kinda fucked up right now.”

He was right, but in this moment, you felt stone-cold sober.

“I hope I remember.” You said softly, feeling brave enough to look up at Stanley.

“I hope so, too.” He gave you a small smile.

“Don’t worry,” Sydney said, making you both jump. You had completely forgotten you weren’t alone, being in your own little bubble. “If you forget, we’ll definitely tell you all about it in the morning.” Dina broke away from Syd and stumbled over to Stanley’s record player to replace the large disk with something else.

“Okay, lovebirds. This one’s for you.” She giggled, making her way back to her girlfriend. Stanley immediately recognized the song, pulling you closer as I’m Yours Tonight from Bloodwitch, Stanley’s absolute favorite band, bounced off the basement walls. Feeling warm and fuzzy, you melted into Stanley as he whispered the lyrics to you, gently guiding you back and forth in a dance.

#agaypanic #stanley barber x reader #stanley barber #i am not okay with this x reader #i am not okay with this #ianowt

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wulvercazz · 1 year ago

Text

🐇Secret Hideaway🪸

Previous ~ October 21st - Puppet, Indifferent ( Renji x Rukia ) Extra Tags- exhibitionism

The Prompt List

(aaandd part 10 is heree sorry for the waitt~!)

His way back feels too much like the walk of shame and something much worse, but by the time they're out the pumpkin patch, Rukia's held onto his hand with authority. Both their clothes back on as they should be, after the bunny slug promised to help further. He's not sure where they're going, "a special place of mine" is all she said; Ichigo may as well be walking into the next trap willingly... but by now, he's far too invested in however stranger this place may get to care too much.

He could simply ask her for directions, or even - as she seems so willing to do now - ask her to show him the way to the station personally... but where's the fun in that? A rather dusty and abandoned part of him decides.

They're not far, at least, they haven't walked long at all when Rukia announces they're just around the corner. Here, the coral has started to get thicker and thicker, rising to a reef with dips and nooks and lots color. And now he understands why Rukia took his hand.

The short bunny slug suddenly dives right into a small opening and Ichigo struggles to follow through, even as she pulls him along. Her small body allowing her to make way between the colorful branches, that smack him in the face once or twice instead.

And when they stop, Ichigo realizes they've arrived to a rather wistful-looking little clearing, encased like an open-roof home and adorned with various items just so. Some, more controlled, potted corals around the place, a cushy rug and various items littered about; a few too that make Ichigo avert his eyes.

"Make yourself at home~" She winks his way, and disappears somewhere, perhaps so she can freshen up.

And Ichigo... barely walks a few steps deeper inside the place, and there behind another wall of coral and under a mossy half-ceiling, is that lionfish he met before. Tied, flushed and half naked over a brightly colored inflateable bed.

"Oh," Rukia startles him suddenly, appearing out of nowhere with a snack she haphazardly stuffs on her face before she continues, "right!" She has the gal to sound surprised. However could anyone forget they have a whole person tied at home?

"Pay him no mind~💕" She declares, with a tone of voice that tells him this was more for Renji's sake than him. The lionfish whimpers quietly, his body twisting this way and that as his tail flicks about with frustration.

"Ask away, lobster-boy~! What did you want to know about the city?" And then Rukia's peeling of her clothes again, like she's doing but a menial task. She even turns his way with expectant, curious eyes, as he fumbles with the poor lionfish's pants to fish his dick and stroke him a couple lazy times. The needy sigh that rips out of Renji almost has his brain short-circuiting badly enough that he could've fogotten entirely why he's here.

"Uh, right- why-" and Ichigo has to clear his throat, doing his best to ignore the way Rukia quickly smears a generous amount of lube she found somewhere on the bed and shimmies her way between his legs. Laying comfortably like this is some sort of sleepover and not another lewd display. "Why am I here?" He spits out finally, as firmly as he's able.

"You needed to be, obviously," she says, as if it isn't the most unhelpful answer.

"Okay, but why? Who needed me here? Clearly someone went to great lengths to get me here." He insists, while his eyes dart every so often at the pitiful way in which the tied fishis attempting to push more than the head inside Rukia. The desperate half-thrusts starting to make him feel sorry for the guy.

"Can't you just accept that some things happen for a reason?" She talks so casually, even as Renji pants and moans her name behind her, thrusting sloppily, pulling at his ties to get more, begging like a little pet. "Around here, things often just happen-"

"Ok-okok I- do you have to do this?"

"What?" And again, she's smiling all cheeky, knowing exactly what he means but intent on making him spell it out.

"... This! Everyone around here, I- Do you have to? Right now?!"

"It's called multi-tasking~💕"

Ichigo's face scrunches up with a pout, his eyes fixed on the way Renji keeps chasing his relief with too-shallow thrusts; Rukia's pussy making sloppy, lewd sounds that she seems barely affected by. She... she's evil. And it seems Renji and him both have no complaints about that... fuck.

"Anyway- as I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, - the way in which all of us have found ourselves coming here is so not the important part. We were all called here and we've all stayed, that's all that matters."

His brow sets with even more questions than answers. Someone has to be tricking them here, things like that don't just appear out of nowhere. How long has this city- whoever is assembling all this people- been up to this? Why? So far all he's been exposed to is ridiculous amounts of sex... and varying levels of absurdity, it makes no sense.

"What's so bad about being here anyway?" Renji surprises them both suddenly, voice raspy and deep, choked up by the collar on his neck.

"Ahh did you cum already? Good boy~" Rukia's twisted back to look at him, and Renji's face flushes a deep crimson, his softening cock twitching with every sweet praise as it slides out of her. Sticky and messy. All Rukia does is pat Renji's cheek like she would an animal, and quickly wipe herself with a towel before she sits back down, mindless of the mess still slobbered all over Renji. "Exactly. I told you at the pumpkin patch didn't I? You need to let go more, this place is only for the people meant to see it- and that's as much information as you'll ever need. If that says something about you that you don't like... well then it's time for some more introspection, isn't it?"

Ichigo leaves them surprisingly clear-minded. Things that everything he's been exposed to recently have made him think and feel rushing back for him to analyze... perhaps... perhaps he should stay a little longer. Only until he can say with certainty that he understands why he was called here.

That and... he forgot to ask Rukia where the station is.

Find the uncensored version, as well as early access and wips to Aquacity as I draw/write it, on SubStar (link on pinned intro post)✨

#Aquacity AU #Kinktober 2023 #renji abarai #rukia kuchiki #RenRuki #nsft #indifference kink

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blinddreams24 · 7 months ago

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Market

A Mermay Prompt

Masterlist

Prev / Next

Orcas liked toys right?

Would it be offensive to get a siren a toy?

You walked through the marketplace. It sat right by the docks but high enough above sea level to keep away from the tide. There was a reason for that, as half of the town had been swept away by a violent storm decades ago. That’s what you could piece together at least. Everyone told you a different story. The prince of the sea was angry at a sailor for doing him wrong. Two giant leviathans had gotten into a fight and caused the storm. Someone was selling the wrong fish on the wrong day. A few poachers had come through and “caused the storm??”

It was all nonsense to you.

You learned quickly just how fast gossip spread in the little town. With all the superstitious sailors and fishermen, something casual like seeing a crow eat a berry could turn into a blown out of proportion omen of death, plague, or murder. Anything and everything had to have a reason. You stubbed your toe on the way to work? Bad omen. Two fish swam around your feet when you went swimming? You’ll find your soulmate soon. Waves crashed against the rocks twice in a row? Big storm coming.

Absolutely ridiculous.

You entered the shop you were looking for, the bell announcing your arrival.

“Oh! Hey, y/n! Long time no see!” Greeted the clerk with a wave.

“Hello, Mister Ron.” You answered and turned to look at the displays.

There were a lot of toys to choose from. The beach balls, volleyballs, footballs, and frisbees were built to float on the water. Then there were the things that didn’t float. Buckets and shovels for sand castles, custom shoes with fun patterns on the soles to leave in the sand, and those fun torpedos and rings that sank to the sea floor for you to find again. Last but not least, there was a rack of plushies, all different sea creatures. Absently, you grabbed an orca plush and, after a moment’s hesitation, grabbed a shark plush as well.

“Anything I can help you with?” Ron asked from the counter.

You gave him a smile. “No, thanks.”

“You got family coming over?” Ugh. He was looking for gossip. Just like everyone else.

“No.”

“Friends?”

“No one is coming over.”

“C’mon, y/n! Don’t leave me hanging!” He teased.

Flashes of Killer saying something very similar made you pause. The teasing voice. The way he grinned at you as if nothing was wrong. Begging for information… and willing to kill you over it.

C’mon! Don’t leave me driftin’!

Do you know how easy it would be to sing those last notes?

You grabbed the closest thing and went to checkout. You had to get out of here. Ron gave you an odd look but didn’t pry as you bolted out of the shop. Your car was cranked and you sped home.

On second thought…

You turned to head to the beach instead.

Waves greeted you as you entered your alcove. Cross was nowhere to be seen. You groaned and sat on the rocky beach, the bag from the store still in your hand. Thankfully, you’d left the plushies in the car, but somehow still grabbed the bag. You reached in and pulled out a red ringed frisbee. Like the glowing thing Killer had on his chest.

You sighed and flopped onto your back. You really didn’t want to think about the shark siren but everything was reminding you of those encounters. The clerk, the shark plushie, the frisbee, even staring up at the sky reminded you of how he’d stargazed with you, his eyelights twinkling at the sight. He’d looked so harmless for a moment. Just a boy that got to see the stars for the first time.

“Ugh!” You stood up grabbed the frisbee and launched it at the horizon. The wind carried it further than you expected before in finally landed in the water.

Dang it, you could still see it!

You snatched up the plastic bag and stuffed it in your pocket. You weren’t going to litter, even if you were upset. Casting one last look, you hoped Cross was okay, you turned you back on the water to head home.

With a scratching sound, the frisbee landed next to you.

“That was fun! Do it again!” Came the familiar voice you didn’t want to hear.

Speak of the devil and he shall come.

You turned around slowly to see Killer propped up on a rock, his tail wagging behind him. The red thing you’d noticed before was floating boldly in front of his rib cage in the shape of a target. Wasn’t it a heart before?

His brow rose as you continued to stare. “Like what you see, y/n?” He grinned.

You looked at your feet where the frisbee still sat. “You want me to throw the frisbee again?”

“Frisbee.” He tested the word. “Can you throw it farther?”

“I didn’t even think it would go as far as it did.” You admitted.

The red rings above his chest twisted. That looked painful. “Then I’ll be able to catch it before it hits the water.” He challenged.

Something in you clicked at the challenge and you looked back up at him with a grin on your face. “Bet. You’ll never get there in time.” You picked up the frisbee.

His face lit up. “Oh! It’s on! Throw it, frisbee master! And watch me teach you a lesson!”

You threw it and a giant splash announced Killer’s scramble to catch it first. He got under it in record time and shot you a smug grin across the water. You smiled back and crossed your arms as the frisbee glided closer and closer to the siren until…

It arched sideways and hit the water several meters away from him.

You laughed at his look of confusion. After a few seconds of flabbergasted staring, Killer angrily snatched the frisbee out of the water and swam back to where you were laughing on the beach.

“What was that!? What did you do?!” He demanded, tossing the frisbee at you.

“I didn’t do anything!” You giggled. “The frisbee does that by itself!”

His grin widened. “Again.” He growled.

You nodded and sent the frisbee flying again.

And again, it arched to the side out of his reach.

“Why does it keep doing that?!?!”

“Because-.”

“Again!”

Several failed attempts later and you had to dodge the frisbee he launched at you.

“This is stupid!!” Killer snapped, his tail thrashing in the water. “Why does it do that?!”

“Will you let me explain?”

He glared at you. “…Fine. Explain.”

You held up the frisbee. “This bottom side is made to hold air under it while it flies. As long as it’s spinning, it won’t have a problem holding itself up. But,” You tipped the frisbee. “If it stops spinning, it becomes unbalanced and the frisbee will fall off the pocket of air it made and swing to the side. That’s why it keeps doing that.”

“Why does it stop spinning?”

“Because it was thrown too far with nothing to make it spin. When I throw it, I try my hardest to make it spin for as long as possible but over the water it has nothing to do but glide until it can’t spin anymore.”

“Well, how do I catch it?”

You smiled. “You have to over prepare for it to change course. Watch the way it wobbles before it falls.” You threw it without warning and he was gone.

His dorsal fin sped out to where the frisbee hovered and his head poked out of the water. He watched as it wobbled, arched, and hit the water without making an effort to catch it. He brought it back and repeated the process three more times.

On the fourth try he brought it back with a grin on his face.

“This time.” Was all he said.

The frisbee went flying.

His fin circled the area below it when it started wobbling. He shot to one side and came out of the water as it arched towards him. He stretched for it, it went over his head and…

He caught it.

“WOOOOOOOO!!!” He screamed in triumph, holding the frisbee above his head.

You watched him pump his fists into the air as you laughed and realized;

You’d just spent the entire day with Killer.

He hadn’t even threatened you.

And you’d laughed.

Huh.

Maybe you’d just gotten off on the wrong foot.

Or fin.

#undertale #mermay 2024 #killer sans #siren

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w33nies · 8 months ago

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Qué Maravilla CH.10 - 'Send in the Clowns'

Previous Chapter Next Chapter Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh and bad words + shit proof reading summary: purely exposition, no miguel x reader juice unfortunately art is from the movie !!

-------------- Ch.10 - Send in the Clowns ----------------

The makeshift group of spider men and women rush through the dark maintenance corridors of the subway system on Earth-42. The gang silently swing in the shadows along the tracks, climbing on walls and even hitching rides on the side of the subway carts. It isn’t long before they reach a large, sparsely lit, graffiti-littered room. Surrounding them are several large archways, their tunnels each housing a dark pit leading who-knows-where. Then, suddenly, everyone simultaneously perks up, like a dog hearing high frequency. Even May Parker’s eyes widen with recognition. They each exchange glances with one another.

“Did we all feel that?” Spider-Noir is the first to break the silence. He is met with a wave of agreement.

“Then he’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Peter Parker mumbles, mostly to himself and the baby straddled to the front of his chest. Parker closes his eyes and begins to walk all around the room, concentrating on using his senses like a magnet to determine where the pull feels the strongest. The rest of the spiders wordlessly follow suit. Not long after, they all pause in front of the same archway, each staring wordlessly into its abyss.

“He’s here. Definitely.” Gwen Stacy announced. For a second, nobody moves. A common feeling of apprehension holds the group hostage. All of them shared looks that confirmed their communal hesitation. What worrisome scene could lay on the other side? Could them barging in make matters worse?

“Well? What are we waiting for?” Pavitr Prabhakar shouts oblivious to the atmosphere. He marches towards the entrance, “चल दर!”(let’s go) he belts in a sing-songy voice. “Let’s go save my new frieeend-”

“-Not so fast Pavitr.” Spyder-Byte (aka Margo Kess) blips in front of the restless boy in her cyber blue-pixel avatar.

“What? Why are we stalling?”

“We can’t just walk in there without a plan,” she cautions. “It'll scare him off. I highly doubt he’ll be happy to see… some of us.” Byte takes a moment to pause and look amongst the guilty culprits in her mind. From Gwen to Noir to Porker to Penni and then finally Peter.

Stacy looks away shamefully under Margo’s judgemental gaze before recollecting her composure. “Okay… So how about we send one person? Like a representative or something like that.”

“Okay, but who?” Penni Parker pipes up, reclined comfortably inside the cockpit of the giant humanoid robot she pilots.

“Well, we know who it won’t be. Aye?” Pavitr says in jest motion to Gwen and Peter.

Peter stuffs his hands in his robe pockets and shifts his weight back and forth from the heels to the balls of his feet, the motion earning an amused gurgle from the infant strapped to his chest. “Yeah. We know. Thanks Pavitr.”

“Now’s not the time Pav.” Gwen crosses her arms defensively, “We need to figure this out fast. Who knows how much time we have.”

“The answer is obvious isn’t it?” Penni remarks. “Who here does Miles trust the most?”

“Well, that’s me of course,” Peter Porker makes a jaunty strut to the front of the group with an air of certainty, his anthropomorphic hand placed sincerely over his heart. Which crumbles immediately as soon as he sees everyone baffled expressions.

“Kidding!” the pig let out an embarrassed laugh, wringing his small hands self-consciously. “I totally said that as a joke you guys. Not as a serious suggestion or anything…because that would be totally stupid…” The silence that ensues after is deafening.

Spider-Noir clears his throat loudly. “Anyways, we need to send someone who he knows for sure isn’t on Miguel’s side. Someone he knows who never acts as a double agent.” The black and white clad hero raises his fist dramatically, shaking it with emphasis. “Look alive eggheads! Who among us is known to put their money where their mouth is? Who has the gall to laugh in the face of authority? Who here best represents the rebel cause?”

They all simultaneously to Hobie Brown who’s in his own world, mask half lifted so he could mindlessly pick at his teeth. When he comes to, he’s shocked to see all of the spiders mutely staring at him.

“Eeh?” the man pulls his finger from his teeth, his mouth slack in confusion “What are you lot looking at me for?”

- - -

A muffled THUD echoes through the air of the lab. Miles Morales of Earth-42 and Jonathon Ohhnn are both startled.

“The cultists.” Jonathoon says in a hushed alarmed whisper. “They’re here.”

“Stand back.” Miles quickly positions himself in front of the timid scientist, with his metal talons bared. His Prowler helmet moves automatically to cover his face.

“You’re not slick, pendejo!” Miles shouts into the void, his head gear obscuring his voice to its titular mechanical drawl. “We know you’re there!”

“Woah, Woah, Woah settle down mate.” The man who reveals himself, striding nonchalantly towards the pair gives a truly confounding sight. He wears a mask similar to Miles (the other Miles) except this one sports a metal mohawk and a red and blue color scheme. He wears a spiked denim jacket, black distressed jeans and an electric guitar which was strapped to his back. As for spikes, he's covered in them. “I come in peace.”

Miles finds his deep accented voice mesmerizing. It possesses an almost sardonic quality to it. As he walks closer to him he notices the UK flag enamel pin on his vest. ‘British, obviously’ Miles deduces. That and the fact that this was probably the coolest person he has ever seen in his life.

“Who are you!?” Jonathan pipes up from behind the shelter of a teenager.

The unknown man removes off his mask, revealing a tall, dark man with a full head of thick, voluminous hair styled in wicks. The first thing Miles eyes gravitated to is his smug smile. His bottom lip holds a piercing, but that’s not the only one. He scans his face and finds a matching nose ring, hoop earrings, and two steel studs artfully placed above each of his eyebrows. One look at him and he knew he wasn’t from his world. Every moment or so he looked as if he walked straight out of an array of punk rock magazines (literally). He never met a man who’s aura was constantly changing. He seemed too hypnotizing to be real but there he was, standing in front of Miles looking down at the duo with a sophisticated yet headstrong poise.

‘How is he even cooler under his mask?’ Miles mumbled loud enough for only him and Jonathon to hear.

“I’m spiderman. Well one of ‘em variations. Name’s Hobie. Hobie Brown,” he stuffs his hands in his vest pockets, looking around impatiently. “I'm looking for Miles.”

“Uhhhh.” ‘Quick! Play dumb!’ Prowler thinks to himself.

“Who’s Miles?”

‘NOT THAT DUMB!’

“I mean- uh…,” After a thoughtless delay, he straightens his posture in an attempt to emulate confidence and clear his throat. “Yep, that’s me. You’re looking at him.”

Hobie scoffed. “Wow, funny bloke you are, yeah? You know who I mean, man. I’m looking for spider-man Miles, of Earth-1610. I know you’ve met already.” Hobie walks around intensely scanning his surroundings. “I know he’s ‘round here somewhere. I felt it. ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Jonathan blurts out clumsily “I don’t even know what a spider man is.” He tugs on his shirt collar that suddenly feels too tight on his skin, sweating under Hobie’s unconvinced gaze.

“A Spider man? Ha! I don’t even know what that would look like! Would they have six legs or six arms? Would he spit venom and have webs come out of their but? That would be ridiculous. Not that I would know, because I’ve never seen one before! Ha ha-”

Miles pats him aggressively on the back to shut him up, biting his lip in frustration. Why was he such a shit liar? And why did he feel so embarrassed by it?

“You said you can feel it?” Miles asks skeptically

“It’s the spider sense.”

“Huh?”

“The…what?” Jonathan added, completely puzzled.

“Spider sense. It’s like a sixth sense. When we’re around other spider people it kinda… I don’t know tingles-”

“-Ewww.” Jonathan interrupts. Miles bites on both his lips to keep from laughing.

“Come out of it mate, you know what I mean.”

Jonathan and Miles share a confused look with one another.

Miles grins amusedly, “Nah man. I don't think we do.”

“So like you see someone spider kind and you get like what? Excited? It stimulates you?” Jonathan asks with sincerity. Miles lets a laugh escape his lips.

“Are you havin’ a laugh? Why are you making it weird?’ Hobie scrubs his hands down his face and starts gesticulating wildly with his arms. “It’s like…like a pull… in the back of your mind. Sorta like a magnet or something. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Hobie sighs, picking up some fallen tech sprawled out in the ruins of the explosion, examines it carefully before pocketing it.

“I swear, youngers like you are such bloody menaces.” he mumbles, leaning against the one of many now dilapidated work desks.

Miles scrunches his face “Younger? How old are you?” Prowler asks defensively.

“How old do I look?” Hobie asks with a cheeky smile. “I’ll tell you this, I’m definitely old enough to be your older brother. Probably could’ve changed your nappy, who knows?” Miles can’t help but feel slightly disappointed. Older brother? Now that he’s getting a better look at him, he reasons that he'd probably be old enough to vote. So their age gap was significant enough for this man to see him as a kid. He was too old for him. He knew he would want nothing to do with him, at least not in the way Miles would’ve liked. And for some reason it made him feel drawn to him even more.

“Oh I get it!” Jonathan exclaimed, cutting through Miles’s conflicted thoughts “It’s like a multiversal connection. A bond that stems from your shared powers?”

“Exactly. That is what I was trying to say. Also a really good guess by the way.” Hobie pats Ohnn on the back. The scientist winces. “You’re obviously the smart one, eh?”

Miles’s is visibly irked but there's also another feeling in his stomach he can’t quite place. Though he still didn’t trust him, he couldn't bring himself to hate him. ‘I’ll provoke him a bit…’ the boy tells himself “to get him to talk…’. He decides he needs to learn more about Hobie because he is a potential threat. Yes…Of course. This is all just a classic case of one keeping his friends close and his enemies closer. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

“Okay so you share some tingles. Now what?” Miles brings his metal claws inches away from Brown’s neck. Hobie raises his hands in submission, though his face gives away that he’s not at all threatened by the young man.

“Why should we trust you? Miles told us some cultists were him and then a few minutes later, like magic, you show up with your funky Irish jig-”

“-I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t hear you say that-”

“- and expect us to believe you’re not in a cult.”

“Do I look like I'm in a cult?”

“Yes.” Morales counter immediately

“100%,” added Ohnn.

Hobie breath hitches in an attempt to keep from cursing. “Well, I’m not in a cult. I don’t believe in 'em’-”

“-Yeah, of course you would think that,” the boy retorted. “People in cults usually don’t know they’re in cults. That’s how they work.”

Hobie rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Mate, I’m not here to sell you a religion. We’re here to get Miles back home. Your uncle Aaron Davis, he was the one who told us you both would be here.”

“Us?” both men questioned in unison.

“Who’s us?” Morales pushed his claws further, just millimeters away from scraping his adam's apple.

Hobie smirks then he throws his head toward the sky, stumbling backwards he shouts. “Oi! You can come out now.”

Suddenly, a loud BANG shakes the entire lab. A massive silhouette, almost like an enlarged action figure, slams on the ground seemingly out of nowhere, beginning its slow and menacing crawl towards the trio. The only thing visible being its two glowing diamond shaped eyes and its glowing spider crests similar to Miles’s and Hobie’s. Each subsequent step reverberated the air around them as it got closer and closer and closer. Jonathan and Miles, stifled with fear, had to crane their neck upwards just to even attempt to absorb the full design of the creature. Then its head opens up, a billow of smoke looms outside of the cockpit. A small figure emerges.

“Hey ya!” A teen girl in an oversized jacket and pink hair clips throws a peace sign. “My name is Penni Parker, and this is my robot. ” The girl then launches herself into the air, springing into a backflip and landing effortlessly on the ground. Both her and her robot break out into sensational battle poses.

“You have a pet robot?”

“I wouldn’t call her a pet.” Peni motions the robot, the machine then bends down to meet her. Penni scratches the display that operates as its head. A cartoonish happy face on its monitor. “It’s a long story. But we are best friends.”

Jonathan timidly walks toward the robot and reaches his hand out ‘Can I?’ he seems to ask wordlessy. Penni nods. ‘Yes, you may.’ Jonathan pets the robot and its screen interface emotes with heart eyes.

Another muffled thump is heard from a distance. Everyone’s head turns.

The culprit of the sound walks apprehensively from the cover of the shadows.

“Hey, I’m Gwen.” She’s wearing the green and red jacket she borrowed from Miles' room back on 1610. “I’m, uh…” Gwen Stacy fiddles with the zipper as she thinks of the right words to say, “I’m...a friend…of Miles.”

“I’m Peter! With little Mayday.” Peter grabs May’s hand and gives it a wave. He looks around, taken aback.

“Yikes. What happened here?” he nudges a glitching, fractured statue with his foot, “Looks like some inter-dimensional barf in here.”

“Names Peter as well. Peter Parker but they call me Noir.” The man in all black tips his hat respectfully, hanging from the wall and the wind blows his trenchcoat. Both Miles and Jonathon shared brief bewildered looks.

“Where is that wind coming from? We’re in a subway.” Jonathan whispered to Miles, his hand obscuring his mouth. The boy just shrugs.

“I’m here riding with the flow of justice.” (Unbeknownst to Noir, Peter is rolling his eyes. Mouthing his exact words as he’s speaking them while mocking his theatrical mannerisms). “Because in this world, justice is as fickle as the rain. And like rain, she’s taken for granted until times of drought and corruption-”

“-I’m Pavitr Prabhakar!” A teen boy rushes in with an infectious eagerness, excitedly shakes the two men's hands. “हे भगवान!” (Oh my god) “You’re exactly like Miles!”

“I am Miles.”

“Yeah but you are like a much more serious, jaded version of him. You seem more like a lone-wolf, brooding type of guy.”

“That’s a lot of assumptions for someone you just met.”

“I’m really good at reading people,” the teen proclaims proudly. His eyes dart subtly from Hobie to Miles with a smirk on his face. His masked face somehow managing to convey that they knew his innermost emotions. Miles scowls and looks away.

“Anybody else I should know about?” he asks, desperate to avoid the subject.

A blue toned blue hologram materializes instantly in front of the two. Jonathan lets out an embarrassing high pitched yelp.

“Kess comma Margo,'' she says casually. “But where I’m from, they call me Spyder-Byte.”

“Woah.” Jonathan whispered under his breath, captivated by the sight of a moving human hologram. He moves his hand out to touch it.

“Nuhuh!” Margo smacks it away. “Just because I’m cyber doesn’t mean I'm not solid.”

“Solidified light?” Jonathan awes, cradling his smacked hand. Another thing to add to the list of technological marvels he would never dream he’d live to see. Yet now he was seeing all of it in one day.

Prowler takes a step toward, also taken with the avatar. “How-” Suddenly, he trips on his shoelace and falls flat on his face with a loud SMACK.

“Whoops! Careful There!” Miles groggily lifts his head and finds a carton pig cheerfully strutting towards him on its hind legs.

“Oh I see the problem here. It’s your shoe! It’s very untied.” The hog spits in his…hand? Hoof? And hold it out for him to shake. “The name’s Peter Porker, put ‘em here!”

“No thanks, I…just ate.” Miles said, waving the creature away with his hand.The pig, undeterred, then turns to Jonathon.

“Um nice to… meet you.” Ohnn reluctantly licks his thumb and pointer finger. Leaning down to lightly pinch the very tip of one of the hog’s fingers, reluctantly gave a very light shake of his hand.

“Wow.” He chuckles, whipping his hand on his lab coat. “A lot of P names in this group huh?”

“There's plenty more where we come from,” Peter Parker jokes. Only the other spiders laugh.

“And that's all of ‘em.” Hobie sneaks up behind Jonathon and Miles, wrapping his arms over their shoulders. Miles feels his face burn with embarrassment. “I wouldn’t sweat memorizing ‘em all,” he murmurs. “I reckon I forget most of these blokes as well.”

“You said my uncle sent you guys? ” Miles directs his question to no one in particular “Why?”

Everyone immediately breaks out into their own explanation of events. All wildly talking over one another in a long, complicated mess of unintelligible words. Hobie abstains from the futile madness.

“Did that help?” Hobie asks amusedly

“Not at all, thank you” Miles speaks with fake sincerity.

Hobie snorts. “Well to be fair, it is quite the story.”

“We can talk about it over snacks!” Jonathan enthusiastically walks over to his snack stash, listing his commodities as he sees them. “I have green tea, oolong, lavender, chai tea...”

Silently, the other spiders shoot a nervous glance at Pavitir. Miles swears he can see a vein popping underneath his mask. The boy slowly turns, “Chai?…Tea?...”

“Yuh huh. I also picked up some bagels, biscuits, oh and picked up some naan bread from this spot on 7th street this morning -”

“NAAN? BREAD?”

“Uh huh. I also made this Tikka Masala to go with it! I followed this recipe online-”

Pavitir breaths heavily with his fists balled at his side. He is surrounded by the spiders desperately trying to calm down.

“Take deep breaths Pav.” Margo Kess instructs him.

“Look at him! He doesn’t know any better.” Penni attempts to reason

“Oh, here we go. ” Hobie crosses his arms, leaning against the wall with the biggest smile on his face.

“-Did you just say NAAN BREAD? Do you realize what you just said? NAAN means bread. Chai is tea. Did you really offer me some tea-tea with some bread-bread? How can you call yourself a scientist if you don't even-”

“-PAV!” Gwen places herself between Jonathon and the disgruntled boy, “I think he gets it.” Pavitir turns away with a huff, arms crossed and cheeks puffed like a scolded child.

Jonathan looks at the thermos in his hand shamefully. “If you don’t want it I can-”

“-I’ll take the food.” Pavitir quickly grabs the container and plastic utensils from him. Just as he’s about to leave he abruptly stops to face the scientist once again.

“...Thank you.” The boy says in a low voice. After retreating to a more secluded corner of the lab he opens the container. His shoulders visibly relax when he sees the steam pop out. Hobie digs in from over his shoulder.

“That doesn’t have pork in it does it?” Porker asks the scientist

“I believe it’s chicken.”

The pig shrugs. “Welp, better them than me!” making his way towards the impromptu picnic.

“Can we stop dallying and get down to business?” Noir rubs his temples in annoyance “Where’s our boy Miles?”

Jonathan and Miles look at eachother, tight lipped. Both telepathically communicating their unswayed distrust in the eclectic group of characters. Though it’s Miles who has the gall to voice his skepticism.

“Give us a reason to trust you guys.”

“Hold on.” Gwen types a few buttons on her web watch, from which it emits a hologram rife with all the relevant pictures and text files.

“You see this guy here?” Gwen points to the lanky spotted silhouette depicted on the orange hued screen. “This is theSpot. He’s a sorta trans-dimensional super being. You see the spots on his body?” She fiddles with the settings on her watch, zooming in on his likeness. “Those are portals he uses to travel to alternate dimensions. He’s already opened up several worm holes in other universes.”

“Mine included.” Pavitr speaks up, pointing to the wreckage surrounding them. “This is all from my home.” Gwen swipes the hologram, which shows the devastating aftermath of the Spot’s carnage. The boy exudes an uncharacteristic somber tone, his voice racked with hurt.

“A lot of people got hurt and many more could be dead. We got a handle on it now…though barely. And now… he’s after Miles.”

“Why?” both men inquired at once.

“He thinks it’s his fault.” Pavitir says, “The way he looks now, he blames Miles for it.”

“If we don't get Miles home the same will happen again in his dimension and he won’t stop after that.” Noir falls gracefully from his vantage point, light as a feather, and onto his feet. “Every second he’s free, the entire multiverse is at risk.”

“I do remember Miles bringing up the name Spot.” The scientist steps closer to get a better look. “Wait..That’s the guy I saw in my vision!” He peers over the accompanying slides with written information. He doesn’t get very far before he sees the thing that makes his blood run cold.

‘Subject: Jonathan Ohn A.K.A The Spot’

“Hey… that’s my name.” Jonathan gives a feeble laugh which falters as soon as he sees the sympathetic gazes from around him. None of them bother to look him in the eyes. With a trembling finger, he points to the stranger on the screen.

“That’s not actually me… is it?”

“I’m sorry Jonathan.” Gwen’s voice is a but a low whisper

“I -” Jonathan opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. He stumbles backwards and falls into the uneven office chair.

“How?”

Nobody speaks up.

Jonathon throws his arms up in frustration. “How? How did this happen to me? Tell me. I deserve to know the truth.”

“We destroyed the collider on Earth-1610.” Peter speaks hesitantly, “We thought we were helping but…He absorbed the dark matter as a result of the explosion and…” he trails off sympathetically. “...I’m sure you know the rest.”

Jonathon takes a second to absorb the words but shakes his head in disbelief. “That- That makes no sense,” he stutters. “Why would I be mad at that boy? He saved my life. When I was trapped inside the collider and then he was the one who-”

Jonathan’s face becomes crestfallen. “Oh,” is all he can manage to muster .

Just then. his heart threatens to burst out of his chest the more the reality dawns on him. Had he been trapped near that machine for just a few more seconds his future would’ve looked very different. The thought makes him physically ill. See, Jonathan Ohnn had grown accustomed to the idea of a strenuous future when he crossed the higher ups at Alchemex. He was by no means a fearless man, but he learned to stomach the notion of violence being used against him. But this? This thought that this depravity that could’ve consumed his entire waking being was too much to handle. He hated to admit it, but he could better brave the concept of a vicious death than the idea of him being a grotesque, wicked monstrosity.

Then scientist feels his knees give out from under him as his head aches from the overwhelming realization.

“Jonathon? Jonathan!” Many people speak his name in concern but he can’t hear them.

Jonathan clutches his skull as he writhes in pain. Bombarded with flashes of memories that are not his own. Yet somehow feel as real to him as the pain currently working to overwhelm him. He sees it all. For a moment, he can feel the shame of being fired from his dream job. The way armed men escorted him out the building through the back door so as to not disturb anyone with his ghastly appearance. For a moment, he can see the horror on his family's faces. How the people who promised to love him unconditionally removed all the hanged photos of his former glory from their walls and refused to return his calls. For a moment, he can feel himself being shunned by his fellow scientists and turned away by doctors. All to disturbed with him to even pretend to care for him and his condition. He can feel the disgusted glances on the street. The way mothers fearfully pull their children closer to them when they see him walk past. For a moment, he can feel the realization that as he is now, there is not a single living creature that could endure him in any capacity. How In just one night, love and normalcy had become something entirely unattainable for him. In the span of seconds it was like he felt his entire life go in a downward spiral. And all the while in the background a voice bellowed with malice. A voice that sounded a lot like his own.

‘Maybe then I won’t be such a joke to you!’

It was enough to make any man go mad.

When he comes to, Jonathan finds himself on his hands and knees surrounded by worried folks. An onslaught of concern from the group hits him in one giant wave. A multitude of hands grab him to support him back to his feet. A flurry of voices drown his thoughts.

‘Are you alright? Do you need water? Here, sit down. Take deep breaths now, in and out. How many fingers am I holding up? Be careful with him. Careful! Stop crowding him, give him some air. You’re freaking him out! Can somebody please get him some water?’

Miles rushes over with a water bottle in hand. “Thank you” he says weakly. He downs most of it in one gulp.

“I saw it.” he says crushing the plastic in his hands. He leans back in the chair recalling the vision, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I saw everything. He’s so… miserable. I -” His voice catches in his throat.

“No one should ever have to go through that!” He cries hysterically, barely able to get the words out through choked sobs. “No one should ever be made to feel so… alone.” He finishes weeping dejectedly into his hands. Miles sympathetically places his hand on his back, shooting irritated glare at the newcomers.

Gwen can feel her heart break in two. As she closes her eyes with a sigh, she begins playing the first rhythm that comes to mind, lightly drumming her hands on the table. Not that she intends to, but high stress environments or bad rhythm situations prompt her to emulate a good rhythm to counteract it. Is it a trauma response? A defense mechanism? Probably. This isn’t one she uses often though. She played it only one other time for her dad after losing her mom. As they cried holding each other on the living room floor, the tapping of her fingers managed to empty the well of her father's eyes until he had no tears left to cry. It wouldn’t make him happy. No rhythm could do that for a loss like this, but it would be enough to ease his pain just for a moment. Like a little morphine for the soul.

She opens her eyes to see Jonathon's head leaning on the headrest of the chair, holding the plastic bottle over his heart. His breaths are deep and steady. His face was still wet with freshly shed tears. She listens to the rhythm of his breathing. It stills houses a great dejection, but now she can sense a hint of acceptance . ‘Good’ she thinks to herself. ‘It’s good enough for now.’

She bends down to a squat in front of the man, looking into his eyes. “I know this is a lot.” she began, “But you would be helping us save a lot of people if you helped us out. Please Jonathon…Can you tell us where we can find him?”

Jonathan takes a moment before responding, the hand holding the water bottle falls limply into his lap.

“You’re right about him being here,” he began softly, his head thrown back and eyes open ajar. “He went to the lab just before you arrived. He was going to steal the prototype for the new strain of Rapture.” Jonathan points out to the broken machine through the window of the observation deck. “We stayed here to attempt to fix the collider and hopefully circumvent its shortcomings so we could send him home before we destroyed this thing for good.”

“Rapture?” Gwen asks.

“It’s a highly addictive, insanely deadly drug Alchemex and Scorpion Pharmaceuticals have been shilling. It’s supposed to be illegal but…” MIles sighs, “That word doesn’t mean much here.”

“It’s the stuff Miguel is mulled up on.” Hobie speaks quietly, “The stuff that makes him… you know.” Hobie glanced at Peter, Noir, and proker. Among the more established, long standing members of spider society it was an open secret. One no would ever talk about, not even behind closed doors.

“Without it he’s even worse” Peter adds. “If you could imagine,” he laughs bleakly

“Well they wanna distribute it through every universe.” Miles spoke with his arms crossed. “They’ll not only make a monopoly out of it but the cure as well. Who knows what other stuff they’ll do with that kind of power...”

“So what are we going to do?” Jonathan spoke weakly, his head rolled to the side. “If they fire this machine again anytime soon, which to be honest they absolutely will, we’re talking about a rupture in the space time continuum! It’ll totally destroy-”

Jonathan head perks up worriedly taking deep sniffs in the air. “I’m sorry, What’s that smell?”

All eyes turn to Peter Parker, who lifts up Mayday from her carrier. He takes a whiff of her backside then immediately recoils from the stench.

“Sorry everyone, my daughter just-” he looks at the baby before lowering his voice to a whisper “-she just shit herself.” He looks around wildly, clicking his tongue. “You don’t happen to have a baby changing station here, do you?”

“Uh-”

“You know what, nevermind. That’s a stupid question I’ll just change here…uhhh…over Here!” Peter walks over to desk. In swift motion he wipes all the documents and equipment off a table before taking off his baby carrier and getting right to work.

“Don’t mind me, as you were saying?

“Well, It’ll open up a black hole big enough to swallow all of Brooklyn. Possibly extending to the Hudson Valley, Long Island, hell maybe he Jersey-”

“Would Long Island really be a loss?” Peter jokes whilst lathering his palms in a heap of baby powder

Everyone looks at him, speechless.

“Peter-” Penni reprimanded.

“-Geez, tough crowd.” The occupied father said, “I guess I’ll just shut up now.”

“Anyways, with the shock wave that happened when Miles disrupted the colliderIt’s only a matter of time before the higher ups show up…'' Jonathan slowly wheels himself to turn towards Miles, “...Then what are you going to do?”

“Me?”

“You didn’t kill me, and you’re not going to hand over the collider are you?”

“No. Of course not! And also I was never going to kill you per say-”

“-But they’ll kill you.” Jonathon slammed his thigh with emphasis, “You know that. They’ll kill both of us.” He puts his head in his hands, mumbling quietly to himself, “What are we gonna do?What are we gonna do?...”

“I’ll figure something out man,” Miles attempts to assure. “I do my best work when the stakes are high” he jokes

Jonathan looks up from his hands, completely disheartened “Maybe... You should’ve just killed me…When you had the chance.”

“Jonathon-”

“-You still can.” Jonathan reasons. “Then afterwards you and Miles can dispose of the strain. Maybe use it as leverage to negotiate-”

“-Don’t be ridiculous Ohnn.”

“I’m fine with dying if it’s for a good reason. I’ve served my purpose-”

“-You’re not dying Ohnn.” Mile begins to pace around, thinking to himself . “Can’t we just, I don’t know, blow it up?”

The boy is met with chorus of no’s

“Again, we tried that on 1610 and we’re still dealing with the aftermath.” Porker reasons, “It’s the reason we have this Spot problem in the first place.”

“To destroy, I would need to corrupt the files.” Jonathon rises to his feet and makes his way over to the monitors. “But most of the computers are busted. It’ll take ages for me to make a kill switch and download the relevant files to save my work.”

“Sorry do you have anywhere I can throw this away?” Peter holds up a stinky diaper, “Whew, this smells BAD.”

Jonathon responds actually perturbed this time, “I’m not sure.. the trash can?”

“You know what, I'll just hold onto it, I guess. Sorry I'm new to this whole parenting thing.”

“Can we worry about this whole money hungry, supervillain side plot later?” Margo practically begs, “When there isn’t a massive threat to time and space on our hands.”

“And this isn’t?” Peter Parker speaks up, wiping his hands and placing his baby back in her carrier. “We can’t leave this alone. It’ll bite us in the ass.”

“So what should we worry about first then?” Hobie asks, “The Spot

Suddenly, All the spiders react.

“Spider sense?” Miles asks

“Spider sense.” Hobie affirms

“At least it’s not the cavalry,” Jonathon sighs in relief. “It's probably Miles.”

“NO! Wait-” The spiders attempt to protest to no avail.

“-Cabron!” Miles shouts, “Hurry up! We have important business to talk about.”

Who emerges is an incredibly tall, hulking figure possessing the build of a linebacker and the disposition of a giant. The spider emblem at the center of his suit possessing a skull head and fangs. As if it was intentionally designed to be threatening. At his sides his fists sit balled in anger.

“Who is that?” Jonathan whispers.

“...The cultist.” Hobie whispers back

For an agonizing moment Miguel O’hara says nothing. Taking all the time in the world to scrutinize each body that occupied that dark, ruined lab. Eventually his mask dissolves. The face underneath held his customary scowl, which not only housed its usual contempt, but also an intense bitterness and perhaps a slight look of betrayal. If looks could kill the daggers he was glaring into the group of traitors would’ve had each of them mangled beyond recognition.

“Business?” Miguel spoke tersely. “Well then, I’m all ears.”

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #astv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #peter parker #spider noir #the prowler

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billyhargrovestits · 2 years ago

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Wayne knew since he was a boy that he was never going to be a parent. He decided that the first time his own left a bruise on his jaw that turned the color of beautyberries and his loving little town instead asked what he did instead of if he was okay. If it was normal - if it was what was expected of him - he wanted no damn part of it and that was fine.

He had his baby brothers birth announced around Christmastime a few years after the move to Hawkins. It didn’t really come as a huge surprise to him at the time, having noticed his mother’s stomach forming a small bump over the last couple of weeks along with a small change of diet that was out of character. He was old enough to know that the small bump was growing into a new responsibility for him. Someone to protect with all his being and honestly?

Wayne had been fucking terrified.

His little brother’s 5th birthday was an absolute nightmare. Yelling, screaming, a few new holes in the wall, a few new bruises littering Wayne’s body - an occurrence that was growing increasingly common then. He had heard the sounds of feet retreating back into their room long before when he knocked at the door and quietly let himself in. Trying hard to ignore the soft sounds of crying that was in the darkened room.

“…Why does he do that to you?”

He had asked then. A simple question that had no answer, so Wayne stayed silent.

Yeah - he was never going to become a parent. Not if he couldn’t answer simple questions like that.

His little brother was 18 the first time he landed himself his big trouble. He had heard about the various grievances he had given Hawkins police over the years from their mother and her calls, but nothing as big as grand theft auto. And of the principles car no less. That was when he stayed with Wayne in little comfy trailer for a while. That was when Wayne tried to give his hand at some advice.

“Hawkins may not be for you….maybe Chicago.”

He moved to Chicago a few months later. Met a girl years down the line of working various odd jobs around the city and everything seemed to be fine. Wayne had met her whenever they tripped down to little Hawkins to visit and she was a nice one. Full of life and with fluffy hair that was so deep a brown that it sometimes looked black. Not to mention her eyes. Wide and so very sincere and capable of every emotion across the spectrum.

When he received a call that they were expecting - Wayne had felt a familiar pang of fear. It was irrational and he knew that. It wasn’t gonna be his kid, everything with going to be fine. They were going to be wonderful parents that was going to raise a wonderful kid. Even if his brother had seemed…off the last few times they visited and talked.

The first time he held Eddie, it was only a few days after he had been born. Wayne took time off work and drove up to Chicago to visit the little guy and the new parents. He looked so small in Wayne’s arms then. Dragging an emotion out of him that he didn’t quite know how to process when he looked up to catch the look in his little brothers eyes. A look of pure fear.

Eddie was two years old when the boy’s mother had passed. Some sort of sickness that they had caught too late and it devastated everyone involved. Wayne included. Some part of him knew then that something snapped within his brother. The love of his life gone, and a toddler asking him what happened to mommy.

Wayne watched as everything deteriorated. His brother falling back into habits that he thought was long-since suppressed and even teaching them into young and rebellious Eddie that was…definitely not being looked after like he should have been. Everything culminating into a night when Ed’s father finally got caught by police, and with charges that were likely going to stick for a long, long time.

Eddie was only 11 when he came to Wayne’s trailer in Hawkins. Head freshly shaved of all the mats that had slowly been forming in hair that was so much like his mothers and with Wayne helping his duffel bag into the cozy room in the back of the trailer.

Wayne didn’t want to become a parent, but if he was going to be one: He was going to be a damn good one. He wasn’t going to scream or yell or hit or teach him bad and he was going to answer all the questions that the boy wanted answers to and he was going to protect him from everything.

—

He failed. He failed. He failed.

As he looked at the necklace in his hands. Turning it over in hands worn by years of hard work.

He failed.

#stranger things #ficlet #wayne munson #eddie munson #tw child abuse #tw abuse #hewrites

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sucrosette · 11 months ago

Text

★— ⋆｡˚ [05. A (Married) Life with a Kitten]

For Day 22 of Carry on Countdown 23, Music. @carryon-countdown

In which Simon Snow brings his husband home a kitten, who his husband (appropriately) names Ophelia.

Rated T for One (1) instance of the f-bomb (I think).

This is a series of snapshots of different Simon Snows and Baz Pitches in the greater multiverse. You can find the other "lives" here: [Day 3: Alternate Universe][Day 19: Sci-Fi][Day 20: Flowers][Day 21: Begin Again]

⋆｡˚

“Okay,” Simon’s text opens, “Promise not to be mad.”

That’s always a good start. Basil doesn’t bother to text back, only checks the time to make sure Simon would be done with the kids for the day and decides now is a good enough time to call a break for the symphony. He dismisses them with a wave, flashing five twice as he steps away from the podium, already calling his husband. “Promise not to be mad is an ominous way to start a conversation, love.”

“Okay, but you have to promise,” Simon pouts adorably on the other end of the line. Baz can just see those blue eyes glistening up at him and the indignant jut of Simon’s chin when he protests Basil’s objections, and the dramatised sniffling his Simon would do.

He sighs, already defeated, “Love, do I ever stay mad at you long?”

“Well, no…” Simon admits, and Basil can see the little duck he’s doing with his head right then without having to see him at all, “But still! Don’t get mad in the first place for this one.”

Baz paces a circle once, and then he paces it again, just one more time before giving in fully to his defeat. “Alright, I won’t be. Actually mad. But what have you gone and done in the first place?”

“Nothing! Just, well, it wasn’t me who did anything,” Simon starts, and Baz could agree he probably hadn’t actually done anything too offensive himself. “So you know how the school’s gotten a sort of campus cat in the last couple of months?”

“Mhmn,” Baz intones, forcing himself to sit in an empty seat in the concert hall so as to not work himself up excessively or worry his musicians. He visualises the twenty tiny kindergarteners Simon minds throughout the day, running through their faces and various little mops of messy kindergartener hair from the last time he’d seen them. He could just imagine how excited they must be about some sweet campus stray. Knowing Simon, he’s probably set up a cat house in some corner of the playground for it. He doesn’t need to ask about it, he already knows Simon’s done it without even popping by the school.

“So the cat, we’ve been calling her Midnight, is actually a Mama Midnight and she had her litter like seven, eight weeks ago…” Simon trails off for a moment and Baz has to urge him on with another acknowledging noise, a sort of wordless ‘go on then’ before Simon’s barrelling forward again, “So it’s about time that the kittens get homed and I kind of just took the black one before anyone could say anything all her siblings are orange and white they’re gonna get adopted so easily and I already got her a collar and it’s pink with little rhinestones on it and you can’t tell me to send her to someone else, I’ll cry.”

Baz blinks back at the empty space at the end of the hall, taking all this information in stride. He doesn’t dislike animals. He gets on with cats rather well, actually, he’s just never had one of his own. “Alright,” he concedes without argument, “I won’t tell you to send her to someone else.”

“I’m already atta–” Simon pauses with a confounded little ‘uhhh…’ that stretches on into eternity, “Wait, you said yes?”

“I said yes,” Baz confirms, standing to stretch his legs and head back to the symphony, his musicians already starting to test their instruments in the background.

“That was surprisingly easy…”

“I have a condition,” Basil announces, purely for the sake of giving Simon a justification for that uneasiness in his tone. And also purely because he likes fucking with his husband still sometimes.

“Okay…?” Simon sounds even more suspicious of him and Basil has to hide a laugh, pulling the phone away from his ear while to compose himself before continuing.

“I get to name her.”

“Oh,” Simon says dumbly, “But I–”

“Nope,” Baz pops his ‘p’ as he says it, “That’s my condition, take it or leave it.”

⋆｡˚

Baz names her Ophelia. He doesn’t bother to hear any suggestions from Simon, even though Simon had apparently had a long list of names, but when he hears Basil call the little black kitten Ophelia he forgets each and every one of them in an instant.

She ends up being a bit of a priss, dainty on her paws and holding her head high, prancing about like she owns the place only a week and a half into moving in with them. She’s definitely taking after Baz with how he minds the house, each little thing in its little home and not a bit of mess to be found. Not to mention she does the same sort of snubbing Baz does, nose up to the sky when she doesn’t want to hear it or doesn’t get her way. The worst of it is she’s definitely bonding with Basil more than she’s bonding with Simon!

Well, alright, that wasn’t a bad thing, not actually. Something about coming home to find Baz lounging watching the tele or browsing his computer and having the little kitten on his lap napping was entirely too precious. Something about them made him entirely too fond. If it wasn’t that, then they’d be in the kitchen while Baz was cooking, and he’d have his headphones in and the sheet music to the symphony his orchestra is playing and between stirring pasta sauce or sauteing meat and vegetables, his spatula would double as a make-shift conducting baton.

Ophelia loved when Baz would practice his conducting. Not only did she manage to get stray scraps of meat and cheese when Baz was cooking-conducting, but he also was waving around a very entertaining stick for her to try and snatch from him. Nothing was better for entertaining little Ophelia. They’ve gotten her several sticks that were intended for kittens, with bells and feathers and floof in all manner of bright colours, but nothing satisfies the same way Baz’s spatula satisfies.

Perhaps it was the food. Simon could relate.

Simon’s caught them like this no less than four times so far, and she’s not even ten weeks old.

“You’re spoiling her,” Simon says as he drops his keys in the bowl and slips his shoes off, “I thought I was going to be the one spoiling her, but it’s definitely you.”

“Don’t talk about Princess Ophelia like that to me, Simon,” Basil looks utterly appalled – a farce Simon is well aware of by now.

“I can’t believe you crowned her since the last time I saw you two,” Simon bemoans, flopping himself over on the couch, “When will you crown me, Basilton? When will I have earned the right to be royalty in your eyes?”

Baz walks over with the kitten perched on his arm like she belonged there and Simon pouts at her. “Did you want to be Princess Simon?” Baz’s voice is dripping sarcasm, but Simon only pouts harder.

“Well, what if I did?”

“Simon–” Baz outright chokes on a laugh at the thought and Ophelia looks offended that he shook her perch so abruptly. Baz puts her gently down on the arm of the couch and slides down next to Simon, sprawling the smaller out over his lap. His fingers card soft through Simon’s curls and before he knows it, he’s got Simon curled up like he was the kitten in their household. “Simon, you’re always royalty to me.”

“You’ve never titled me,” Simon prods Baz’s belly gently and Baz hums a soft song back.

“There’s no title in the world worthy of you, love,” Baz says it so sincerely that Simon knows that it must be true, “You’re always first in my heart. Even when you’re jealous of a silly kitten, need I remind you, that you brought home.”

Simon huffs a little, nuzzling his nose against that same spot he’d just poked, laying a soft kiss just there. “I’m not really jealous,” He means it when he says it, “I just wanted some attention.”

“I will always give you the attention you need,” Basil soothes as he brushes Simon’s hair behind his ears, caressing the shell of it gently, “Did you have a rough day?”

“Mhmn,” Simon answers, curling himself up more in Baz’s lap, “Parents…”

The one word bears enough weight to exhaust them both. “Would you like a nap before dinner? Right here on the couch?”

“Will you nap with me?” Simon asks, even as Basil’s already pulling the throw blanket down from where it had been resting at the top of the couch. He’s already sinking down onto the couch with Simon, wrapping himself more thoroughly around his husband, covering them both with that old hand-knit blanket Lady Ruth had given them for their wedding.

“It seems like a good day for a nap, I think.” It’s Baz’s own way of saying ‘of course,’ his own way of making the act of taking care of Simon something for them both.

Simon curls up facing Baz’s chest and Baz takes the edge of the couch, knowing Simon would fall off if he were to switch their positions. Simon’s breathing settles out as soon as Baz starts humming the notes to his symphony, just a quiet thing for Simon to focus on instead of the dreaded parents that he had been thinking about all day long, no doubt.

Princess Ophelia finds her own place curled up at the back of Simon’s knees, purring loudly and comfortably napping with both her dads together on the couch.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #domestic snowbaz #married snowbaz #conductor baz #kindergarten teacher simon #honestly just fluff #so much fluff

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