#people act like you have to do it as fast as possible and suffer the consequences bc you know. 'you did this to yourself'

[stressfulsloth]

Hrngh I just. I don't want to argue with people but. Being an addict is not a moral issue. You are not more morally good and pure for never having experienced addiction. You are not inherently bad for being an addict. Like the recovery narrative centres becoming a "better person" or being "redeemed" BUT BEING IN ACTIVE ADDICTION DOES NOT MAKE SOMEONE INHERENTLY A BAD PERSON. You don't need to be redeemed. That kind of dichotomous thinking is detrimental to recovery, setting people up to see relapse as a moral failure, a weakness in character, something they need to repent and self flagellate for. When it's just... not. It's a part of the process.

And even beyond that, if you can't bring yourself to uncouple addiction from morality, you have to see that addiction never happens in a vacuum. To ignore the socioeconomic factors that contribute, the way that addiction and alcoholism intersect frequently with chronic pain, the way that our society is essentially made hostile to people experiencing addiction which then in turn self-perpetuates... it seems needlessly cruel as well as ridiculously individualistic. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps type of mentality. Poverty and chronic pain are significant contributing factors in many cases of long term addiction; it is far more useful to blame power structures that allow people to remain in poverty, their pain untreated, the inequalities and failed safety nets, disregard for vulnerable populations, all amounting to social murder. Choosing instead to place blame and vitriol at the feet of addicts is unhelpful at best and frankly malicious at worst.

[littlemouserat]

.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I liked your writing on reader having to get in between Wolverine and Deadpool all the time 😆 it made me think what it would be like if they were crushing on you and there is a rivalry between them. If you could write what they’d do to win your favor or what shenanigans that would come with it 😂 subtle or not

These two weren’t fond of sharing.

So when the other finds that they have similar feelings towards you, the outcome is never good.

They’re childish in a way where if either Logan or Wade was coincidentally standing too close to you, the other was bound to notice and make a scene out of it, all the while you wished you were anywhere else in that moment.

The pair couldn’t get along even if they bothered to try as sooner or later they’d end up stabbing each other just because the other one was breathing too loudly or just merely existing.

And yet their feelings towards you ends up causing Logan and Wade to butt heads more often, especially if you were constantly teaming up together, with you often being their meditator in all their conflicts.

Wade was more vocal and borderline flirty when it came to interacting with you, he would crack jokes, boop you on the nose or even playfully smack you on the ass just to hear your yelp in surprise and become all flustered.

‘Plush ass you’ve got there, babe! wouldn’t mind laying my head on it sometime and use it as a beautiful fluffy pillow.’ - Wade, skipping away.

Wade could be quite clingy at times so there would be moments where you can barely escape the guy as he hanging on your side like a koala bear.

You: Wade can you let go.

Wade: and let go of my emotional support person? *gasp* Do you want me to die?

You: well considering how fast you regenerate, you technically can’t die-

Wade: do you hate me? Do you think I’m clingy?

You: no- well yes but-

Wade: you hate me!

Wade can be dramatic and the only way to shut him up is to just let him be in close proximity of you and allow him to talk your ear off about how good a dog parents you’d be to Dogpool.

Dogpool is your weakness, you could never say no to Dogpool and Wade knows this like the back of his hand and will use this as leverage over wolverine.

After all It’s not like he has a version of himself that was an actual wolverine or maybe even a honey badger in yellow spandex. So Wade counts this as a win on his end.

Logan on the other hand would be more subtle with his approach, even though to Wade, Logan’s subtly was as an dopey cow standing in a field of grass with how the scruffier man tended to keep by your side protectively; so much so that he might as well start growling at every person who ever laid eyes on you in general.

He’s a guard dog of a man in every sense of the word but how that came to be was from a whole lot of trauma and loosing people he’s ever cared about, so needless to say he won’t act like he’s interested in you at first, his heart had been wounded about as much as his body has and even had the mental scars to prove it.

He’s lived a long life of pain, fighting, suffering and heartache. He’s not going to falter so easily until you did something that made him feel safe enough to fall for you.

Once he has however it was impossible to go about the mission without him always wanting to stand guard by your side when he sees someone he doesn’t fully trust, always using his body as a shield for your own as Logan knew he could handle much more punishment then you could. So he’d rather avoid you being grievously hurt by any means possible.

He’d probably scold you if you ever were hurt as he was afraid that he might loose you, yet his hands were gentle but firm as they worked to patch your wound so it’d heal properly.

Wolverine: you’re an idiot you know.

You: wow I really feel the love over here.

Wolverine: *huffs* you expect me to kiss your ass when what you did was reckless and could’ve killed you? *his hands linger on your own even long after he’s done patching you up as though committing your warmth to memory*

Logan is a secret softy who wouldn’t push you away if you were to ever fall asleep on him, he’d grumble but that’s about it.

He’d even toss you his jacket if you were to ever complain about being too cold or leave it somewhere for you to take yourself, again he’d act like he didn’t want you to but he actually did with how he almost smiled upon seeing you looking comfortable in his jacket.

Logan is evidently more subtle about his crush on you then Wade is, or so he’d likes to think but Wade can messily tell he’s smitten when he sees how Logan’s eyes were quick to follow you in a crowded room with protectiveness and adoration.

Wade: aww has our dear friend taken the stick out of your ass and you fell in love?

Logan: *growls* fuck off Wade.

Wade: *holds his hands to his lips and gasps* oh my gosh! You have! Me too!

Logan: *looks at him* you what?!

Wade: yeah cats out of the bag, I like them too wolvie. you’re not the only one to find them cute, how close minded of you seriously.

They can’t share to save their lives, I’ve mentioned this before but they genuinely can’t even if they tried because one is them was bound to get jealous and try to take you away from the other.

Wade: do you really want to be near me grumpy all the time? Yawn fest much.

You: stop riling him up, you’re making Logan mad. Why are you like this?

Wade: maybe because you deserve to be in the company of someone who isn’t still unhealthily hung up on his previous red headed lover.

Logan: you shut your fucking mouth.

Wade: see! He’s not denying it!

You: I’m going to go now. *leaves*

Logan: you should make full time fuck head your job.

Wade: and you should make full time teenage brooder in a full grown man’s body who still isn’t over his first breakup yours.

The shenanigans that would occur between these two would be headache inducing to say the least.

The constant fights that would break out between them that you’d have to break up.

The bickering over who gets to act like a couple with you on missions. They might even play rock, paper, scissors multiple times behind your back.

Wade probably tried to trip Logan up in front of you once but it backfired when Logan made Wade trip up instead as he puts a hand on your lower back and guided you away from the poor Merc with a mouthful of dirt.

[togament]

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬. sakura, ume, kaji, suo, kiryu, togame.

"ever caught yourself fantasizing how they'd be as your lover? ever wanted to smooch them so badly you just wanna-- look no further, sweetie."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: general FLUFF NATION BABIIIEEEE, a bit of language but only if you squint a little, I made it as gender neutral as possible but pls lmk if I made some mistakes!, our men are lovesick and absolutely down bad BAD, quick mention of bumping uglies, kaji the crowdkiller, brainworm infestation things, bibi went to yap town with togame's.

𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚.

- big on acts of service BUT IS HORRIBLE AT HIDING HOW MUCH HE LIKES DOING STUFF FOR YOU. hear me out. he’d be the one opening doors for you, covering your head with his jacket when it’s raining outside (he’s getting soaked and you nag him about getting sick)…. all that. He’s blushing profusely. When you smile up at him, he immediately smiles back but then he claps a hand over his mouth to hide it. Give him time ok he’ll come around.

- he loves you. of course that’s a given because you’re his lover BUT BUT. he love LOVES you. like a lot. so much that it’s kind of painful, you know what I mean? Like he wants to express it so friggin bad, but he doesn’t know how to. His words escape him, he panics when he makes a move. He’s spent many a night just staring down at you with the most lovestruck eyes while you’re fast asleep. Tears falling from his eyes because he’s so happy you chose HIM of all people. He never thought he’d be worthy of being loved, of being trusted, of being CONSIDERED. You gave all of that to him and more. GOD he loves you.

- is super conflicted about PDA lol sometimes he wants to hold your hand in public, kiss you all over, hug you, but god damn it he’s blushing from head to toe whenever he’s around you. He’s got the cuteness aggression fever but he can’t let it ouuuttttt 🗣️🗣️🗣️

𝐮𝐦𝐞.

- EVERYTHING IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGE. Like, if you’re not into physical touch, he’d do something else for you. If you’re not the acts of service type and you wanna do stuff yourself, that’s cool too!!! He can manage!!!! Although he’d want to help you out so bad but…. He’s cheering on you from the sidelines. On that note, he’s your biggest (and loudest) cheerleader! You’d have an achievement and no matter how small or big it is, his friends and neighbors and the random strangers he passes by know about it and how amazing you are. BECAUSE YOU ARE.

- loves it when you help him out in the garden hehehe loves it extra if you know how to take care of the veggies and fruits hehehehe like, you’d be tending to the potted plants and he’s checking for aphids on the other side of the garden. You’re actively pruning the basil the right way so it’d grow bushier, you’re hand pollinating the pumpkins, you even suggested on doing the three sisters method so you’d yield more harvest in the coming months. He may or may not have begged you to marry him once or fifty times every time he’s caught you doing that. (Ofc you’ve said yes once or fifty times lol)

- WORST CUTENESS AGGRESSION FEVER SUFFERER. You cannot convince me otherwise. You’d be doing the most mundane things, walking down the road with him, lounging on the couch with your belly out and body contorted in the most unattractive position, just STANDING THERE….. he’s immediately on you, peppering kisses everywhere his lips can reach, hugging you so close, rubbing his face all over youdbjfjdndnnd CUTENESS AGGRESSION IS UMEMIYA AND UMEMIYA IS CUTENESS AGGRESSION. If he could he’d bite you. He has btw. On multiple occasions. The tiniest, softest chomp though.

- never fails to tell you how much he loves you. On the daily, on the fly, every time he meets your eyes. “I love you” so easily slips from his lips, he expresses it so easily but it never loses its meaning with him. He means it every time he utters those three words. You can feel it too. Just… don’t ask him to elaborate because he’d drop anything he’s doing just to explain to you as to how and why and what and where and—uh oh is he crying?????

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓.

𝐤𝐚𝐣𝐢.

- WOULD MAKE PLAYLISTS FOR YOU. Hear me out again. He’s horrible with words ok? Like he’s thorny. He’d say the meanest things accidentally sometimes without him realizing that. So, he makes playlists for you. He’s made one for himself when he first realized he had a crush on you, btw. Don’t tell him I told you. Notice how he’s had his headphones on his head whenever you first started talking to him? Yeah he was listening to it when he saw you passing by. Best music taste btw. Listens to all genres too like he doesn’t discriminate. Get him started on some hardcore bands though, he’s yapping. Eyebrows furrowed. (He likes rowdy places but doesn’t get rowdy? Canonically too? Yeah the man’s outside the pit pushing the crowdkillers away from you. CATCH HIM IN THE PIT THOUGH OH MY GOD THAT’S A CROWDKILLER RIGHT THERE.) on that note, he loves going to gigs with you. You wanna go check a local band? He’s immediately got ticket stubs for their next gig.

- another acts of service guy. You see those tiktoks of girls grabbing something under the table and the guy holding the corner of the table so she wouldn’t accidentally hit it? Or like when you got full hands and you can’t go to open the door, the guy’s materialized beside you, opening it for you? Yeah that’s him. Real subtle about it though. Don’t bring attention to it pls unless you want him to not look at you for a couple of minutes (he’s blushing pls be patient)

- the type to nag at you when you get hurt. Man oh MAN does he nag. He’s gone through one too many fights already so he knows how to patch himself up real nice. But when YOU get hurt, he’s immediately digging through his first aid kit, cleaning your wound and patching you up while nagging you to be more careful next time, what if he wasn’t around to help, what if this what if that grumble grumble. He’s got his lollipop in his mouth btw. Pull it out for a second and GIVE HIM THE BIGGEST SMOOCH TO SHUT HIM UP PLEASE. Sweetest kisses. Both literally and figuratively 🥹

𝐬𝐮𝐨.

- GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN. Oh my god if you don’t want attention drawn to the both of you, never bring Suo out in public!!!!!!!! He does the most for you so effortlessly, so beautifully, people swoon and get jealous because of it. The type to give you flowers too. Not just on special occasions too. And not just flowers in a bouquet. No. The flowers are already arranged in a vase so you wouldn’t have to worry about grabbing a vase yourself. Goodness your normal dates would seem so extravagant when he’s around. You’d be eating at a McDonald’s and you’re looking over at your lover and he looks so dashing and he smells so good and he’s got the softest smile anfjdjjdj UGHHHHHH!!!!!! But if you’re not into flowers, he’d find some other way to express his love for you in a different way. Whatever you’re comfortable with, he’s down for.

- big tease. He likes seeing you squirm and pout when he’s playing a little prank on you. You swear you can see a slight blush on his cheeks when you pout but it’s so so subtle you think it’s the lighting.

- is not afraid to express how much he absolutely LOVES you. If you need reassurance, he’s pulling you to the side to talk about it. If you need him to kiss you more, oh he’s doing THAT AND MORE. If you’re the jealous type, even better. He’s smooching you in front of the person you think is flirting with him. But if you’re not into that intense stuff, he’s pulling you into the conversation, keeping a hand on your waist and looking over to you for an extra opinion. Lays on the “dove”, “my love”, “my sweet”, “my heart”, T H I C K . And I fucking mean THICK.

𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐮.

- *dreamy sigh* a fucking dreamboat is what he is. You could never, EVER go wrong with kiryu, man. I swear. A gentleman through and through. Takes you on spontaneous dates, likes going to arcades with you and winning you the biggest plushie!!!! (he’s really good at it), would take you on perfume dates (HE SMELLS GOOD CANONICALLY UGH), would even do your make up for you. Ugh. UGH. He’d be the best partner you could ever ask for. Y’know those perfect couples on tiktok? That’s you and him. But it’s all genuine, baby. That’s just how he loves.

- big on matching outfits. But not the blatant matching ones, no. Like, same color palettes, same textures, YES. YES. The outfit brainstorming is part of your dates too. He’d let you borrow his clothes if you want, he’d even let you spritz some of his most expensive perfumes 😭!!!!

- SKINCARE DATES TOO. WOAH WOAH WOAH. like, he has a AM/PM routine but he'd love to do it with you! he'd suggest all the best stuff for your skin, check if your skin's more on the dry side, oily side, yes. your man knows his shit and it SHOWS. your skin's practically glowing when you're with him. boyfriend air doesn't exist.

- IF YOU NEED REASSURANCE AND A HYPEMAN HE IS YOUR FUCKING GUY I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. God he’d see you looking at yourself in the mirror, fussing over how you look and practically putting yourself down, his heart would break. Like, how could you not see how he sees you? He’s taking you in his arms and telling you everything he absolutely adores about you, how beautiful you are, showering you with praise on the sweetest most kiryu way possible. He’s peppering kisses along your tear streaked cheeks until you’re smiling again. “There’s that smile,” he says as he pulls away, cupping your face in his hands. Ugh he even has the most lovesick puppydog eyes for you. “I love you, alright? So much,” he kisses your forehead, “So, So much.” He whispers into your hairline. GOOOOODDDDDDD 🫂 and did I say HYPEMAN? I mean it. Do a little spin for him in your new clothes and he’s screaming and yelling and taking so much pictures of you!!!!! His instagram feed’s full of you, your couple photos, your dates… practically a fan account of your relationship. He loves you and he loves loving you!!!!!!!!! and if you're the jealous type, he'd be so patient with you. he'd reassure you to the moon and back!!! ofc since he's popular with girls, he'd do his best to reassure you that he only has his eyes on you and you alone.

- gaming nights with kiryu. Oh Gaming Nights With Kiryu please save me gaming nights with kiryu. He’s got a whole set up ready for the both of you, his PS5 hot and ready, snacks opened. It’s a special thing for the both of you too! He decorates his apartment in the theme of the game you’re both playing, horror game? His apartment looks like a horror house. Smash bros? BET. (He’ll be smashing you by the end of the night gehrhhrhehehehHgdhdhs). I know he’s got LED strips so he’s using that to his advantage too. Ok I’m getting carried away. Kiryu best partner best lover best everything.

𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞.

- *RIPS SHIRT OPEN LIKE A WEREWOLF GRGEGGRHEHE BARKING!!!!!* TOGAMEEEEE!!!!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ I am apologizing for this part, love. I’m gonna go hard.

- canonically doesn’t text. Only leaves you on read. Calling him though? CALLING HIM?? 🫠 he’s answering as soon as it rings. None of that “wait until the third ring” baloney. His baby’s calling. If he’s doing something before you called, HE’S DROPPING IT FOR YOU. And he answers in that deep voice of his and 🫠🫠🫠 sigh. You guys stay on the phone for hours. He’s the type to do things while he’s calling you too. If you’re away and he can’t be with you, he’d love it if you could stay on the phone with him for way longer too. Big on facetiming too. He’s fallen asleep with facetime on. You have a collection of screenshots of his pretty sleeping face. You’ve fallen asleep on facetime too. He doesn’t have as much screenshots though and he haaaates himself for it because he spends so much time just staring at you through his phone, smiling to himself like. FUCK he’s so in love with you!!!!! YOU!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ plus he’s got nervous shaky hands so hehe first time you guys facetimed you weren’t a couple yet. You fell asleep and he tried taking a screenshot and dropped his phone. The sound woke you up lol you give him shit about that moment sometimes, teasing him. He’s a blushing mess, elbowing you gently so you’d stop.

- AWKWARD TOGAME WHEN YOU GUYS FIRST DATED UGH SHIIIITTTTT!!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ he’s canonically bad with groups of people and people in general. Choji had to adopt him forcefully into shishitoren ok? So that translates so SO well to you and your relationship with him. He may or may not have (allegedly, for legal reasons) asked for romance advice from Choji. He may or may not have (again, allegedly) tried that yawning and stretching trick so he could rest his arm behind you. No. Nope. Didn’t hear it from me.

- awkward and SHY togame when he made the first move on you!!!!!!! He had a ramune bottle in his hand because it was shaking so bad he couldn’t control it. You GAVE HIM HIS FIRST KISS DHHRHDHRRRRAAAAGHHH 🗣️🗣️🐺 you had to hold his other hand to stop it from trembling. Yours were too tbh hehe made him feel a bit better because you were just as nervous as he is.

- once you both are super into the relationship though, my goodness expect togame to be THE BEST PARTNER. See how he was with Choji? Did anything and everything to keep his smile? He’d do that for you too. Amp it up to a 100. His surprises are simple, never was one for grand gestures. But goodness you can feel the effort. Even employed some help from his old man pals at the community baths 🫠

- speaking of the old men, THEY WERE THE FIRST PEOPLE TO KNOW ABOUT HIS CRUSH ON YOU!!!!! Like, they were doting on togame when he expressed he’s never felt this way for someone before, how he can feel his heart racing and his face heating up when you’re around. They knew he was in love with you before he knew for himself.

- OF COURSE THEY KNEW YOUUU. So when you wanted to get into a relationship with togame, knowing it’s serious now, you went out of your way to meet up with the group of old men!!!! There, you discovered that togame has been talking about you nonstop. They already loved you for him before you formally met!!!!! They gave you their collective blessing, of course. You both are their grandchildren in their eyes.

- togame CAN COOK. EXPECT HIM TO COOK FOR YOU CONSTANTLY. And if you can cook, EVEN BETTER. Cooking dates, farmer’s market dates, izakaya dates, GASTRONOMY! You often surprise each other with decorated lunch boxes.

- nap dates all the time. Like, when you’re not bumping uglies or cooking or bonding with your friends, you both are asleep in each other’s arms. He gives the best hugs too. Like, those hugs that just cover you, you know?

- obviously, he loves you. But god damn it he wants to scream it into the world!!!! With the way he treats you though, constantly worrying about you, being there at your beck and call, pressing kisses into the crown of your head whenever you’re next to each other, he doesn’t need to scream it or utter a single word. You can just see the love he has for you. Everyone knows it.

- has thought about marrying you a couple times already. The type to call you his spouse teasingly too just to see you blush. He cannot wait to call you that officially. If he were good at technology, he would definitely have a pinterest board ready lol

a/n: wehehehehajsdkj hehehe togame. i missed writing for him, guys. THANK YOU FOR READING THROUGH TO THE END. some of the togame headcanons were from my convo with @yisxn!!! the ramune bottle detail was so perfect I couldn't skip it! also the asking for advice from the old men. YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND ILYSM. thank you to @brainrot-of-a-thot for helping me clear up my brainfog last nightttt. also to you, reader, ILY. thank you for reading my word vomit!!!!!!!!!

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 7.5k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.

──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.

Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.

The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.

Not when it is your life that has been taken.

Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.

October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.

Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.

And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?

No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.

And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.

It is his fault you are dead.

Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.

"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.

The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.

Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.

"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.

The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.

"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.

Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.

And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.

When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?

Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.

Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.

If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.

The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.

With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.

Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.

At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.

It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.

It is his fault you are dead.

Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.

"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.

You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.

The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.

Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.

As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).

The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.

This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.

After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.

No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.

Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.

A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.

The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.

With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.

"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.

With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.

Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.

"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?

Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.

With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.

As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.

An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.

A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.

The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.

From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.

The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.

This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.

"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.

With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.

It is his fault you are dead.

You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.

Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.

A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.

The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.

With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.

Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.

Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.

Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.

With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.

Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.

Within this universe, Miguel finds you.

Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.

Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.

Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.

Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.

Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.

Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.

In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.

However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.

Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.

March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.

To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.

15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.

Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.

Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.

"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.

“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"

His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!

He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.

"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.

"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.

Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.

So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!? 

People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.

So much for first impressions, right?

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE

BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞

gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.

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[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 1 : "Dan you Stupid Fu—"

Dan Phantom/Bruce Wayne, from this prompt of mine: Dad!Dan so Uh here's chapter 1:

[𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛]

Dante was with Ellie and Danny, Both had been de-aged because of the GIW and the Fentons, Vlad was still recovering after risking his life to get Danny and Ellie out of the Facility. Dante is now Required to Step Up as the Co-CEO of Dalv. Co. "Has Doing business always been this stressful? I have twins to take care of Sam—" he says in the phone in a tired father tone. "Suck it up, it's a good thing Clockwork is actually helping you and I'm helping you through the Galas and the Schedules you have. Just imagine How Vlad does it." Sam rolled her eyes and laughed. "Have Hope Dante. You can do it. I BELIEVE IN YOUUU!" Tucker yells through the call.

Clockwork looks at Dante and smiles, he was acting as Dante's assistant, although dante is good at the organizing and handling everything. He's not very good with kids. It's a good thing that jazz is there to babysit actually when she can— it's just that she Goes to Work to Arkham and the kids likes to eat the ectoplasm corruption stuff that surrounds her whenever she comes home ... When she <em>Does</em> come home which is rare but welcome. "How's Vlad resting?" Dante asks Clockwork and Clockwork just hums as he handles all the extra paperwork with ease and in a fast pace.

"Frostbite has informed me and I know myself that he'll wake up in approximately... 2 weeks. Do not worry Dante about your children, the Observants are very fond of them when dear little Jasmine is not around and tend to care for them and educate them with humane books. If they didn't I would have banished them back to the Infinite realms." Clockwork chuckled and hums in amusement. "First I become a Ghost King for Danny, Second I become the Co-CEO of Dalv. Co. Three I become a Dad to Twins. Fourth, My Technically Dad Vlad Masters is in a comatose state, and fifth the GIW AND FENTONS still want me and the kids dead." Dante groans. "Sixth, you have to socialize and attend Galas for your Technically Dad Vlad Masters" Sam Adds and he hears Tucker just laughing on the other side of the phone.

Dante let his head fall on the Table as Clockwork chuckled and Took his paperwork and helped him handle them. "Thank you Mentor..." He groans tiredly. "Remember Little King, We still have a gala to attend for Tonight and as Always Jasmine has said she will attend with you to help you escape when possible and if you want to leave smoothly and you need not worry as Sam Manson and Tucker Foley have their day offs today and are willing to babysit the two Little Demonic Chaos Spawns that is the Prince and Princess." Clockwork reassures Dante and pats his head softly.

Dante groans and just Clockwork raises his head and puts a pillow under him, He just goes to take a nap at his desk which he really deserves as he's already very tired from everything. How could this all start because of Danny trusting his Mother and Father?.. Disgusting people. Nocturn who also decided to temporarily work for them and in a human disguise decided to help Around in Dalv. Co. Especially with Finance and now he's official the CFO of the company which has been a great help.

How did Vlad handle all this again? Surely he slept, surely he wasn't always handling everything by himself. If he was then now Dante respects the Man for Handling all of it himself and not letting exhaustion take over his whole soul and Body functions.... Dante soon fell asleep on his desk and Nocturn came over to help suck out the nightmares he occasionally experiences and suffers through, "Clockwork do you think he'll get through two more weeks or are you planning something?" Nocturn asks with an amused smile.

Clockwork smiles back cheekily, "I always have a plan for something." Both Motherfuckers Laughs and Sam and Tucker on the phone still are just dead silent as Sam shakes her head in disbelief and Tucker holding back a smile. "Make it Gay." He mutters on the phone Jokingly, "Well Maybe I should!" Clockwork laughs and Nocturn holding back his own laugh as he can imagine Tucker just dumbfounded as they heard a smack on the other line, presumably Sam smacking Tucker for doing and saying something absolutely stupid Infront of these 2 men who they still label as "Potential Threat" in Danny's Book of Rouges along with some others. "We'll be there at 9 before the Gala." Sam reassured the other Ghosts before hanging up.

[𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢]

"Remember what we discussed?" Jazz asks as she fixes Dante's tie. "Yes, no growling, no hissing, no biting, no excessive flirting, no cursing the living daylights out of people, no letting my emotions get to me and No mentioning of Vlad being sick and just tell the others that do ask that he's on vacation in the Himalayas." Dante lists from the top of his head. "And Don't interact with the Wayne's because?" Jazz adds on, "Because they're Nosy. Got it." Dante just looks determined to get through the night. "Tonight I am your sister because I always was and will be your sister. And Tonight clockwork is merely your butler. And Tonight we will ALSO make sure that you don't get swept away by some hot guy in a suit because you're a simp for people that are both muscular and have a thin waist." She strikes a warning glare at him.

"Yep yep." Dante nods as she pats his chest when she finished fixing his tie. "And if you see a handsome Badboy guy DO NOT, and I shall say again DO NOT introduce them to me because I will fall for them on the spot. Noted?" Jazz says also trying to be single for as long as Possible and Dante laughs whilst nodding which made Jazz smile as she had successfully comforted and made her brother smile once again. Clockwork was smiling pleasantly as he watches the two siblings in the backseat. "We're arriving soon <em>Madame Masters & Sir Masters</em>" Clockwork says with a teasing tone as both tenses up on the spot and fixed their clothing and straightened their backs.

The two out on their poker faces and Dante made sure his pure white long hair was neat and calm unlike it's usual messy and Flame-like appearance, Jazz made sure she looked presentable as to make connections with being a doctor of Arkham Asylum. "We're ready." She smiles gently and lowere her eyelids, to look almost as if she's judging or mesmerized by the sight of anyone or even possibly bored, either way her expressions screams "mysterious lady" which made Dante snort. "You look like you're about to fall asleep—" Dante was holding back his laughter and Jazz pinches his side, "ow—" he yelped as he too straightened his expression to look more charismatic and sociable. Also for the sake of connections.

Clockwork parked Infront of the venue and Opened the door for them as they walked side by side with her arm gently and subtly wrapped around his, it's become almost common fact and Implied that Dante Jamie Masters("37" yrs old) was albino because of his Pale Skin, Pure White hair and Red Eyes that is littered with his long white lashes whilst Jasmine Aqua Masters(21 yrs old) Took after her mother's features. Oh to be Rich and Successful, Both These two hated the attention directed to them as Both of them Stood Out with Ease, Jasmine having a Firey Like colored hair and Dante's supposed Albinism made the pair of siblings stand out more than they'd like be.

"Remember the List Dante." She mutters and Dante nods with a soft gentle smile he always saw Vlad use when socializing with people of high society. Hours Passed within the Gala and Jazz was Slightly and mentally panicking as she could not spot where Dante's outstanding white hair could be but she continued to chatter around with the ladies with ease, the ladies being pleased by her manners and "mysterious elegance" she mentally rolled her eyes at that. All that She's doing today is for her remaining family. Dante, Ellie, Vlad and especially her Precious Baby Brother Danny. She keeps a mental note on why she is doing this at all times. But she finds it pleasant to talk with the ladies about girls stuff such as Makeup and Fashion and especially Art. But occasionally they would ask About her job at Arkham Asylum, she would tell them her achievements.

How she has backhanded knocked out Joker who had tried to escape and saw her as his first target and out of instinct she slapped him with the back of her hand and he dropped on the spot that was always Amusing. Or how she was the one to release and Help Harley become a 'better person' esque. Somehow Jazz thanks her childhood being a messy fighting ring 90% of the time as because of that she can effectively pull out a weapon faster than her targeters or The rouges of Arkham Asylum could.

Wait.

She's getting distracted.

Where the Fuck is Dante.

[𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝙾𝚅, 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚊 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚎]

Dante thinks he must've drank too many wine glasses, although he kept his composure he found himself chatting with a man who jazz told him not to converse with but here he is. Now... Both of them were making out in the halls where no other people visits, Dante carried them up pinning them to the wall.

Them being Bruce Wayne, he's especially light for Dante's Inhuman Strength. "My— Wow— you're actually very strong just like your size—" Bruce says unexpectedly, both Men drunk.

Was Bruce Wayne always this hot? Jesus Christ. Ancients help him, he's losing sanity and making out with Bruce Wayne in the Gala where Jazz, his sister had told him not to MAKE OUT WITH ANYONE INSIDE. Well you know what. Fuck it. "You're light for someone your size." Dante says softly leaning to Kiss the Back of Bruce's Palm and licking his fingers. "If we want to continue this we could atleast get out of here don't you think?" Bruce pulled Dante's tie and Dante just growls under his breathe taking Bruce Aback. Dante smirked and Took Bruce Away and out of the gala through the backdoors.

Sorry Jazz, I'm gonna do something Naughty tonight. Dan thought to himself as he chuckled and called an Uber To take them to the nearest fkn 5 star Hotel. Bruce was amused and they waited until they got to their hotel room before Continuing what they were doing.

[𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝙹𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎]

"Clockwork did you plan this?" Jasmine glared at Clockwork who was driving her home after 4 hours of her trying to look for Dante only to find out he's left with Bruce Wayne.. BRUCE WAYNE OF ALL PEOPLE!! THE PEOPLE SHE WARNED HIM NOT TO FUCK, FLIRT OR INTERACT WITH! "I'm getting a migraine..." She stated massaging the bridge of her nose and sides of her forehead as clockwork merely chuckled.

She knew it. Clockwork knew this would happen. Oh Clockwork you— Jazz just groans and upset. "How long will he be gone at the very least?" Jazz asks calmly and tiredly. "Tomorrow by 6 PM." Clockwork smiles cheekily which in turn made jazz groan louder but tried to calm herself and keep herself composed. Alright Jazz just Calm down. You can do this. You can not Not Slap Dante's Head later for his stupidity, he's your brother you can do it later, just calm, you can handle this, you can smack the shit out of him later anyways. Jazz took a deep breathe and smiles, "I shall Beat the shit out of him later!" She smiles excitedly which made Clockwork look at her visibly Bemused.

As they reached the Manor, Danny and Ellie were waiting for Jasmine and Their Dad But got upset when it was only Jasmine who came home, the twins thinking Dante is too busy to come home again. "Oh no little Danny and Ellie(Both 8 years old)! Your Daddy is not at work! He's just preparing a surprise for the both of you tommorow okay?" She smiles gently reassuring them and they're brightened up again. "Okay!" They jumped and said in unison, Jazz swears if they had tails it'd be wagging and it made Jazz's Heart have a cuteness overload.

"My Exact reaction when they started calling me Auntie Sam-sam and Tucker as Uncle Tuckie." Sam Manson (19 yrs old) Chuckled and Tucker Foley(19 yrs old) groggily following behind her, "they're quite tiring but it's worth it" Tucker Yawns and Sam laughed at him before kissing Danny and Ellie's Forehead. "I'll be heading home now, my Little Aria(Pet Pigeon) must be waiting for me" she coos as she walked off waving goodbye to the kiddos who were waving goodbye back. "Me too Jazz! I miss my couch and my Tools." Tucker laughed and followed Sam to His Car, Both going to the same college just different majors, the two drove off back to the city and Jasmine cooing over the twins who giggled happily in her arms.

"Don't worry Okay Ellie and Danny? Your Daddy will come home by 7 PM tommorow! I promise!' She reassures them! "What Surprise Will Daddy give?" Danny asks Expectedly with a very cute high tone and Jazz swears her heart is about to explode. "It won't be a surprise if you two know now doesn't it?" She chuckled and the twins looked at each other expectantly and nodded in agreement, the twins held Hands throughout the day not letting go of each other and truly attached by the hip.

The two chattered about their day with Their Uncle and Auntie as Jazz listened through still in her fancy Dress, she tucked the two to bed before she went to her bedroom to finally change.

She is so going to Beat up Dante once he calls her.

[𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢, 12:58 𝙿𝙼]

Dante flutters his eyes open to the hot sun peeking through the window curtains.. Dante groans but stopped still when he felt movement beside him, he faces his head to the side and sees. BRUCE WAYNE??? on his Arm sleeping. Resting. Messy Looking and Probably still naked. Dante combs his hand through his hair as he stared at what he calls "Majestic Man" that is Bruce Wayne. "Fuck... What did I do last night." He Groans and slowly but gently sat up as to not disturb The Sleeping Bruce Wayne. He stood up from the bed as he processed what the fuck he did to get to this moment and went to the Hotel Room's Kitchen. And started cooking something up just to relieve his stress.

Soon Later about an hour, Bruce woke up. He groaned.. his back was sore. He looked around the bed and slowly sat up thinking the person he Fuck must've left him— but nope. "Oh good morning." The Albino(?) possibly Meta-Human Man was staring at him fully clothed ,looked like he didn't look tired at all and had prepared food for him. 'is this what aftercare is?' Bruce asked to himself mentally as This Man Puts the Bed Foldable Table Infront of Bruce and Literally served him, home cooked Breakfast in bed.

Did he accidentally get married whilst drunk?? Bruce was bemused, cautious but also felt fucking stupid but he's calculating everything he needs to say from now but he totally didn't have a contingency plan for this occurrence. "Sorry for going too rough on you last night, Kinda lost my Temper and Control—" The Suspected Albino Meta-Human, Dante Jamie Masters as Bruce Recalls was Apologizing as he scratched his nape. "It's quite alright, Thank you for serving me a meal so early in the morning—" Bruce tried to play it cool and smiled but damn. His body felt numb. How long did they go for?

"I can help you get out if you wish! And dress even!" Dante smiles at him softly and even kissing the back of Bruce's Palm. Bruce is totally unprepared for any of this happening as he did not expect to get princess treatment by a possible One- night stand. Goddamn. He hopes none of his kids find out. This would be the most Embarrassing story that his kids will poke fun of him about if they ever found out what this man did and He hopes that Dante also doesn't tell anyone.

Meanwhilst Dante was already totally smitten with the man and Jazz told Him that he should be polite and Kind to those he wants to court and Somehow... Dante has a feeling that he should take some toys home for his kids... And oh god Jazz is going to kill him.

Oh god, the Ghostly Courting Methods Shall start today. WHOOOO!!!

[oksana-moods]

All Too Well

Summary: Natasha tried to mend what's left broken. Because no matter what, she's the love of your life and she knows all too well.

A/N: It's been forever. This 5k piece felt like I was writing 300k, it was difficult, funny, hard and I miss doing this more often. I hope you guys like it and please, it be amazing for me to know your thoughts about it.

You can read it as One Too Many part 2 or as a single piece, it is up to you.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, mentions of death, alcohol, angst (you know how I am, I can't simply write people kissing without suffering before).

"Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place"

The gun pointing at your face barely meters away should be intimidating, but at this point no one would blame you for not caring anymore. And you didn’t even mean the last couple of days, no, your whole life had been a fight, a struggle, an act of survival after another, so the last few days were nothing but the same blur.

The gunpower inundated your nostrils and the pungent smell masqueraded the smell of blood that clung to your brain and you were sure you wouldn’t erase it even if you got out of your current establishment.

Your heightened senses were capable of decerning all the different blood samples available in your cell: yours and from other occupants that came before you, or the blood that belonged to some of your kidnappers, who’ve learned in the worst possible way that you were not to be underestimated.

Back to the gun, the man behind it kept enchanting the same questions and you wondered how long it would take for them to get tired of your silence or mock replies. A sharp pain in the back of your head made you look up to meet his eyes, another man behind you was forcefully pulling your hair down to force your head up and you were already tired of him doing this.

“Where are the others?” The man with the gun asked, patience waning thin. Good to know you were on the same page. “Where is Romanoff?”

A blooded grin made its way to your face after you spat on his shoe. “It’s funny you think I’ll tell you now after all you’ve put me through. Do you think I’m afraid of your bullet?” And you didn’t even mean the fact that you probably wouldn’t die if he decided to shoot anywhere else other than your head, but you did mean that you were not afraid of dying.

Actually, you were so tired that perhaps laying down cold wouldn’t be unwelcomed. There wouldn’t be any pain, your body wouldn’t try to heal only to get hurt again. You thought it would be refreshing.

Two steps and the man pressed the gun over your knee, and you already knew, his wicked grin grew wider when your body convulsed with pain even though you concealed your scream in muffled grunts by biting your lips so tide you tasted your own blood, again.

“Why don’t you make it easier for you? You tell me what I’ve asked, and I kill you fast.” He pulled a chair and got comfortable for he knew all too well you wouldn’t budge easy. “I promise you. One silver bullet in your temple. Fast. Easy.”

Your eyes flashed to his. Silver bullets were really affective against your healing skills and very few possessed this knowledge. Someone must’ve tipped him off and the idea stung way much more than the powder burning the flesh inside your knee.

Only two women knew your weakness. Well, your creators knew, of course, but they were not in condition of speaking anymore. Unless someone from this organization was capable of going to hell to have a chat and then return to the living world with this intel.

Your love for Yelena was something so natural and it grew so fast for she was just deranged as you were: uncapable of functioning as what people labeled as normal. You were kindred souls and you felt like you were twins separated somewhere along the road and considering both of your past, who actually knew?

After long nights during long missions, you confided in her this. You were scared of losing control because sometimes the beast inside you took over and your brain couldn’t always sway the instincts. So you handed her one silver bullet in case things went south, she was adamant in returning it to you but you asked her to keep it, for insurance.

And the other person was Natasha. You never knew how she learned this but when she recruited you many, many years ago she already knew. If the pain in your leg wasn’t so overwhelming, you could’ve laughed at the memory engulfing your mind’s eye.

Her tide catsuit adorned with nothing but her black widow symbol, swaying her hips and pretending she wasn’t scared of the woman seated in front of her. You remember how her fear smelled, a stark contrast to her pose. You recall her words, her smile, her flirtatious play all to convince you to use your skills to her so called greater good.

And before leaving, she boldly closed the distance between you and placed a silver bullet in your hand. You understood the message. You weren’t stupid. Later she sworn that she was the only one, at S.H.I.E.L.D. or within Avengers, to know your weakness and you believed her.

And this belief comes back to bite you in the ass.

Because you knew full well that Yelena would die, she would kill herself even, before telling someone your secret. But Natasha? You didn’t trust her anymore. She had done it before, and you knew it all too well. If you were to be honest, after one too many treasons, you didn’t care about another.

Or so you told yourself.

“Good luck.” You rasped out after a long time inside your own head.

The man tilted his head to the side and smiled that smile that told you he already knew what you would say. You would go further and say he was eager for it. “I think in the torture manual says I should tell you that I don’t enjoy this, but I’d be lying. We actually bet how long it will take for you to drop the act and start screaming.”

You bet no one thought it would be that fast. He stumped a knife down your thigh so fast and so hard you saw stars. You could feel the silver poisoning the skin and muscle where it was nested, and it burned like nothing else would.

Unfortunately for them, the apex in you was not used to be a prey and this injury was powerful enough to make your survival instincts kick in. It happened so fast it was a haze, one minute he was laughing, the other he was on the ground - lifeless, and just as the others came, they followed their leader – well, who you thought the leader was, at least.

Funnily, your countdown was wrong, or you were not the only one putting your captors down. As the blood ran free down your leg, your strength and capability of keeping fighting diminished. When a body collided with yours, it was a miracle you were still awake.

Her red hair framed her face perfectly, skin white as snow and her green orbs looked like there was an aurora borealis looking down at you as she nested you in her lap as you felt life slipping through your fingers - veins.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me.” Her voice was strange, as if speaking was a struggle and she reeked fear, but not the same you were used to, as if she was feeling a different type of fear, it was a strange concept, but you hated it, nonetheless. If these were your last moments breathing, you wanted her true smell. The one you knew all too well.

“Please, don’t you dare die. I’ve got you.” Her muffled words found your ear, but it was hard to even comprehend anything at all when her lips felt so cold in your forehead. “Heal. Why are you not healing?”

“Silver.” It was all you could say. It was all you had to say.

She frantically started yelling at someone, perhaps the comms, but before you could close your eyes for good, you saw a red blur and he was complaining about your weight.

Her giggle filled the room as the first sun lights announced the day had just begun, you looked at her alarmed, for it was definitely something new. “Are you mocking me?” Enable to conceal a smile yourself.

“I’m not.” She denied, but her laugh told you differently. Her freckles painted her angelical face and her eyes looked like they held the sun captive. And you. And she knew, all too well. “It’s just I can’t believe you still have this scar.”

Her index finger traced said scar as she looked at you expectantly, waiting for your explanation, even though she already knew.

“I didn’t know Wanda’s necklace was made of silver, okay.” You finally replied, pulling her close to you as if her weight meant nothing, right in that moment this action felt so normal, so homely that it ached. “I thought I could take it from that heated place for her, but it burned me as I did. It was silly.”

She giggled again, though muffled by your shoulder this time, there was something new in her eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “It was cute. Silly, but cute. That necklace belonged to her mother.”

“I know.” You were locked in her eyes, and she stared at you as if she was trying to reach your soul, then you felt her fingertip leaving the palm of your hand to intertwine your fingers as she let her eyes stray to look at both of your hands.

The feeling was overwhelming. You were aware of how fast your heart was beating, you could only hope she couldn’t feel or hear it, for in that moment, all you wanted was to engrave the sight of you, together, and you wish you could just have this forever. Have her forever.

“I’ve never felt this before.” Her brows were furrowed in a way that made you upset, but you wouldn’t let go of her hand for nothing in this world, even if it was to soothe the crinkles in her forehead. “I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, there was nothing that you could do but wait for your brain to register her words and meaning, for a whole minute you simply stared at her, trying to search for a catch or a joke but you found none. And she looked up at you so innocently that you found yourself believing in her.

“I thought-.” You tried, but she never let you finish your sentence.

“I know what I said.” She stopped you midsentence, but her voice was not stern, it was almost tired. “This is not what I feel anymore.” Again, her eyes found yours and the way they shone made your knees weak, luckily you were laying on her mattress.

Somehow, they conveyed so much of this feeling she had claimed she was not capable of nurturing that your stomach did somersaults. And right in that moment, you realized that perhaps silver could hurt you, but this woman was your true weakness.

Specially if she’s looking at you the way she was.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You whispered, it was terrifying saying again the three words that you were sure would make her fly away from this strange arrangement you found yourself in. Yet she didn’t.

“I know.” She confirmed after a while admiring your eyes as if she could read your mind. After deciding she was content with whatever she found, she leaned in and pecked your lips so tenderly it hurt.

Then, when she looked at you again you saw, from the small smirk growing in her lips, that she had gone back to play her prime character: the Black Widow.

“Let’s have a breakfast before the funeral, shall we?” As she got of the bad, you copied her movements going back to your own suitcase to find something comfortable as her voice broke the silence filling the room. “I never asked how you and Sharon became friends to the point you’d come to a funeral of her relative.”

The cleanliness of the room was the first thing you were aware of. In fact, you didn’t even realize you were awake, therefore alive, before the smell hit your nostrils. And with it, her scent.

The occasional up and down from her feet and bouncing leg was the only sound in the room except for the noise coming from the heart monitor over your head. She was anxious, that much was obvious even if you weren’t an enhanced being.

Mentally searching for your injuries and pain, you understood that whatever had happened with you, was all gone. Excluding the lingering pain in some specific places that you credited to silver induced wounds that would take way much more time to wear off.

However, considering the state you were in, whoever tended these wounds had operated a true miracle.

As you opened your eyes, you half expected bright lights, common to these hospital rooms to hurt your eyes, but you soon identified that the only source of light was a yellow bulb close to the door.

Natasha.

“Thanks for working the lights down.” You rasped out and stifled a giggle as she jumped from her chair by the wall and bolted to your bed side. The book previously nested between her hands now long forgotten on the floor.

The iron grip which she clutched your hand didn’t go amiss to you. “A week.” The sadness in her eyes was palpable. “A whole week blacked out.” She explained further but you didn’t need to know the details of how long you were sleeping or how many times your heart stopped at surgery.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Then it hit you, the same type of fear your nose caught when she found you in that facility, it was fear but not the one someone feels when they’re actively facing danger, but it was fear for someone else. Fear of losing someone.

Something stirred inside your heart, but it was something that you couldn’t dwell much longer, not, at least, in that moment.

“They had me, after you sent me as scout.” Your tone was flat, and her eyes widened a little at the bluntness of your accusation, though you were far from settling for little. “They knew about the silver.”

Her hold faltered, but your hand was still snuggled between hers. “What are you accusing me of?” She narrowed her eyes, but her green orbs were bright even in the poor light.

“Cynicism doesn’t suit you the way you think it does.” Before you could even pull back your hand, she completely let it go and got to her feet. “Look at my eyes and tell me that you actually didn’t let them get me, just to find their hideout.”

She had her back turned to you, acutely avoiding your gaze. “Look at me!” You demanded and she had the gall to look at you through her lashes, as if her seductive skills could help her now. You wouldn’t fall for that, and she knew it all too well.

“It wasn’t my intention for you to be captured and I never thought someone else would know about your weakness. I thought I was the only one alive to know.” She finally turned to you, eyes now darting around the floor as if it could grant her the answers she sought.

“Lena knows too.” You corrected her, but if she was surprised by your update, she never showed.

Shaking her head right to left as if to deny such possibility, she exclaimed. “She’d never do this to you.” It was funny that at least in this matter you agreed. “I think she loves you more than she loves me.” A sly smile escaped her lips and you had to restrain your heart from fluttering at the sight of it.

“I was waiting for your check-in. I went to your assigned coordinates, and I know I underestimated their numbers, but I would never let someone capture you.” Her feet dragged her back close to your bed but maintained some distance between you.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You shot back without missing a single beat, crossing your arms around your chest.

She sighed tiredly and looked down at the floor. You wouldn’t let her forget that she was the main cause for you to be locked in the Raft, well, her and your support for Steve when Ross tried to shove the Sokovian Accords down your throat, and solely because you shared his point of view.

After being controlled for most of your life by a group with shady intentions, you swore you’d never submit your loyalty and services to a third party again, even if it was a government group – specially a government group, actually, so only over your dead body you’d accept the Accords.

But when you came back to see if Natasha was fine, she had gone without thinking that you were left behind and in the care of Ross to be taken to the Raft with the others, without sparing a single thought to you.

“I’d never ever willingly put you in danger.” She said taking another step closer to you. “I have never mentioned to anyone about your secret, and I purposefully kept it out of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files.”

Her eyes kept darting from her hands to your eyes, never focusing, never staying too long. “Look, I know Yelena would never speak about it, but I wouldn’t either. And I didn’t, you must believe me!”

“I must?” Your eyebrows shot up so high so fast it hurt. “Well, you made it pretty damn hard for me to believe, don’t you think, Nat?” Your tone was hard, but you were not even speaking too loud.

Somehow, Natasha thought this hurt way much more.

“C’mon all I feel for you-” She tried to counter, but you wanted to swallow the lump stuck in your throat trying to choke you, so you cut her midsentence.

“Words, Natasha.” She found herself locked within your burning eyes. “I kept you as an oath, yet you hid me like another dirty secret. And all you’ve felt you kept hidden – buried – just as who you really are.”

After years thinking about how she lured and how she hurt you, you thought that maybe spatting what your relationship really was – a hidden lust, would make you feel better, would free yourself from her hold, but it didn’t.

After all, calling her unfair wouldn’t change how lonely she made you feel, how she took your happiness away whenever she drew herself back to her main character as she left you daydreaming about imaginary scenarios built in “what ifs”.

As your words found her ears, they settled heavily in her stomach. She knew she had massed up, she had hurt you many times, yet all she wanted was go back in time and erase all her wrongs and all the times she promised and never delivered.

She didn’t possess a time stone, though. There was nothing she could do about the past, however, she knew she couldn’t run from her mistakes anymore. If she wanted to start anew, she’d have to show she was different.

She wanted to, no, she needed you to understand that she was a whole new person because you’ve changed her. She didn’t want to hide anymore and for that she’d have to let go of her walls and be vulnerable. Truly vulnerable.

Funnily, she had played with her vulnerability before, being vulnerable just enough for people to lower their shields or masks so she could get what she wanted but this was something else entirely.

This time she wouldn’t act. She’d be vulnerable, at your mercy hoping she’d make it out alive on the other side. It was something new and it scared her, but losing you was scarier.

“I didn’t know you came back to check on Barton…” She tried weakly, knowing that this was a sore subject for the both of you. Each with your own views and reasons.

“I helped Clint, yes, but we went back looking for you. Yet, Ross was all we’ve found.” Your glare was cold, perhaps colder than ever. In the pit of her stomach, she knew she deserved it, she just wish you could move on with it.

“I was wrong, okay. Is that what you want to hear?” She snapped, though her voice was still in a low tone, eyes sad. And you hated it. “I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for not going after you that day at the airport or at the Raft.”

Her eyes fell once more to your hands, she slowly nursed them in hers and this action was so soft, so hesitantly as if she was afraid of you taking it away; afraid of you shutting her down once more.

“I wish I could do things differently, but I can’t, and for that I’m sorry. But I- I wish we could try move on from this. I still have feelings for you.” As words flowed through her tongue, you watched as eyes portrayed a sincerity that you rarely saw within those forest green orbs.

Usually, they hid her true feelings or performed like an actress twisting her truths mixed with pieces of lies and characters she created through life until she herself was unaware of what was true or not.

“I hear you, Natasha.” You rasped out after a long moment lost inside her beautiful eyes. “You speak of things as you did before, yet you never act on it.”

Her hands were warm, a muted invitation to go back to your dreams of having a life with her. The only person who never showed any sign of fear about your nature, that never once treated you like an animal.

She never treated you like a woman either.

“I want you to show me.” Your stone-cold eyes punctuated your feelings in the matter at hand. If she wanted to have you back, she’d have to show you she’s changed for words could only take her so far.

“I will.” She vowed and smiled softly, though her heart was shattering inside her chest. She made a career making people believe in whatever she wanted, she supposed she’d be able to make you believe in her heart.

How hard would that be?

Laugh filled the room after another not-so-funny Tony’s jokes and your head throbbed as the sound echoed inside your skull. Parties like these were always a torture for you, after all, your enhanced abilities of hearing and catching smells better than a normal person proved to be really awful in a place full of people with different perfumes, scents, chattering and loud music.

However, Tony himself forbid you from leaving tonight for this was his engagement party and it would be rude to Pepper if you left too early. Deciding that indulging him was easier than arguing with him, you found a safe corner and pretended to enjoy whatever was going on.

Though, your sharp eyes, even though you tried hard, always wandered after a certain redhead and you could all but clench your jaw every time you judged someone got too closer for your comfort.

Jealousy clawed its way through your throat and even the best bourbon from the bar couldn’t help it. You knew you had no right, no claim, especially after your last conversation. Still, your heart acted on its own and made sure you’d regret your words and resolve.

Considering that you were one drink from scooping lower than ever for her, you abandoned your glass on a random table and vanished to the balcony in hopes the fresh air could help your head and brain.

The cars down the streets ran from side to side completely unaware of your inner turmoil as you pathetically looked down searching for answers you wouldn’t find there.

In fact, as your answers arrived at the balcony, you realized that her hills clicking the marble floor announced her before her perfume invaded your nostrils in waves as she moved closer and closer towards you.

“Tired of mingling?” She asked as she lined her body at the railing. Her red hair bobbed around her ears in meticulously designed waves and her dark maroon dress hugged her curves in all the nice places.

She was flawless.

As always.

“I think I might’ve break Sam with incredible five words.” You gave her a sly smile that she retributed with a smirk and a fake gasp.

“This is basically a whole speech.” She clicked her tongue playfully. “I think you’ve been around Tony just too much.”

You snorted a laugh and she let a broad smile paint her lips, content with herself for making you ease the pained expression adorning your face the whole evening.

Uncertenty hugged you like a cold blanket as you pondered your next words. As if rolling the dices in a game you were sure you’d end up losing, you turned to her and spoke. “You’re really beautiful tonight, Nat.”

Your heart fluttered as she fought back a smile trying to win her lips and looked down as if she wasn’t expecting your praise. She genuinely looked flustered by your words.

“Thank you. You’re quite handsome yourself. Well, I already praised your choice of suit, earlier.” She turned her body so now she was fully looking at you and you tried to remember how to properly breath. However, it was as if the air was composed of her scent.

You were intoxicated.

“What do you mean?” You asked confused. “This is the first time we speak tonight.” You clarify. Truth be told you’ve been keeping a fair distance from her and funnily enough she didn’t make the effort to push you and your comfort space.

She did make it obvious that she was trying, though. She invited you out in front of people, she brought you coffee whenever you were reading in the garden in the morning or brought you a blanket when you were on the couch watching movies with Wanda.

Whenever you were called to a meeting, she worked the lights so it wouldn’t hurt your eyes that much. And, one day, she brought you the files they recovered from Hydra from the mission you were taken, and you both learned that one of your creators left behind a journal and there were a lot of dirty secrets down there. Including yours.

To be honest, she was really trying to show her true intentions, but you were still afraid that this was just for show, just a ploy for you to lower your guard and be disappointed after she return to her normal pattern of misleading.

However, the way she stood basking in the moon light looking at you like she was slowly sipped through the cracks of your determination of not giving in that easy.

Her soft smile was a sight to see, and you even forgot that you were waiting for her to reply. “Directly, yes. I sent a drink to you earlier.”

Then it clicked in your head. Your laugh was loud and very uncharacteristic of you, though Natasha simply stood there admiring your carefree stance, a rare occurrence.

Your mind traveled to a moment earlier that night when the waiter approached you with a drink in hand, stating that the lady had sent it to you complimenting your fine tailored suit. At the time, the way he vaguely waved in the direction of Agatha and other ladies, you thought that one of them had been the person.

Though if you thought harder about it, Natasha was at the bar in that moment, right behind said ladies.

“Now it made sense.” You grinned back at her and nodded your head softly. “Thank you for the compliment and the drink.”

“Of course.” She flashed on last smile and turned her body to admire the city bellow and you did the same. Though you found it hard to ignore her presence by your side. You could feel the heat emanating from her skin, her sweet scent still impregnating the air around you and you could hear her fast heartbeat. It was uncommon.

In a haste, you both turned towards each other and started to speak at the same time. A nervous laugh scaped your lips as you signaled for her to go on first. And she did.

She closed her eyes as one does when bracing for the impact, as if second-guessing her next step, but when she opened her eyes again, there was no doubt and no deceit. “I love you and it’s ruining my life not having you, knowing that I am the one who pushed you away.”

You were speechless by her blunt confession, specially because she never, ever, used the word love in such a direct sentence. She expressed her feelings before, yes, but always with an adore, in love with you once or twice, never this straight.

She took your silence as hesitancy and reached for your hand, she yearned for your touch and the closeness of the last weeks made her heart clench with longing. “I am asking for a chance to show you who I really am, and I, please, I know I’ve made mistakes, but I wish to make it up to you.”

Her eyes were pools of emotion and you had trouble in breathing with her so close now. “Please, let me love you the way you deserve, the way I should’ve since the very first time I kissed your lips.” Her free hand caressed your cheek in such a tender way that you felt your knees weak.

She was definitely your true weakness.

You brain was haywire, short-circuiting with the lack of air and the sudden increase in your heartbeats. There she was. The woman you felt like you could love forever, offering you what you always wanted: her heart. For real this time. Not the hide and seek games you’ve been playing in the past.

She promised and have been showing changes, however, if you were to be honest, all she’d have to do was to come at you and say hi. If you were to be honest, she would always have your heart at her mercy.

Unable to form words and knowing that your silence was unnerving for her, as you saw her brows furrowing, you decided to answer her differently as you brought your hand to her own cheek and guided her lips to meet yours.

Her lips were soft as they used to be, and you could feel her body melting into the kiss. Her eyes fluttered open when you broke the kiss and smiled softly at her. “I love you too, Nat.”

Smiling back at you, Natasha circled her arms behind your neck to pull you down for another kiss, and another. And another.

And you knew, all too well, that she wouldn’t stop soon.

taglist: @username23345; @afuckingshituniverse; @strangegardentaco; @waltermis (I know you didn't specifically asked to be tagged, but I am doing it, nonetheless, because if your rb - and because you sparked a fire in this. Thank you.)

[01zfan]

Can you do a story where the female reader is getting backshots from shotaro and his members walk in and see you naked?

rushed | o. st

idol!shotaro x reader | 2.8k words

contains: sneaking around, backshots, getting caught

you rarely got to see shotaro. separate lives kept you apart more days than you would like to admit, and time always felt like it was slipping away when you were with him. 

it was also increasingly hard to get him alone, always surrounded by his bandmates. you couldn’t blame shotaro or his team, they were only doing their job most of the time. you knew it wasn’t your place to ask them to clear out their shared dorm so you could have alone time with your boyfriend. unplanned alone time became a luxury, and you two treated it as such.

it was a shame that time always felt like it was fleeting when you got shotaro alone. you two never knew when someone else would walk through the door, or when shotaro would get called to go to practice. the fleeting time made you two act like hormonal teenagers no matter where you were. time was of the essence, you two had to do whatever you couldn’t do in front of others as fast as possible. this meant dry humping on that black couch in the studio in the middle of the night, or shotaro pressing your body against the glass in the practice room early morning before everyone else arrived. making out the second you two were alone became a habit, lips instantly attaching and hands grasping at the other the second no one else was around.

there were several close calls when you guys would fool around. it didn’t help that you two would get so caught up in the moment you forgot there’s other people in the world, too. you remember pushing shotaro to the floor when someone almost caught you two making out on the in a lounge room. you were laid on your back while shotaro kissed your neck, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. shotaro was no help, he was awful at paying attention to his surroundings in these situations. shotaro’s only thoughts were filled with you, the way your skin was so soft and how he hasn’t had the chance to kiss you in so long. he thought it was criminal he didn’t get any alone time with his girlfriend, sometimes he cursed the life he chose because it kept him away from you. shotaro was taking his time when you saw the blurry figure of someone through the frosted glass of the door. before the knob was turned the same hands that were pulling shotaro closer to you pushed him backwards by the shoulders. he launched to the other side of the sofa and you grabbed your phone that was previously forgotten on the coffee table.

poor anton was subjected to seeing you two pretend like the obvious wasn’t so obvious. you looked to the anton and then followed anton’s eyes to shotaro’s mussed hair and wrinkled shirt. your boyfriend wasn’t only bad at listening for people coming, but also terrible at acting nonchalant. shotaro had a shocked expression on his face and was frozen in place on the couch. you were also frazzled, but atleast you had the sense to pretend like you were looking at your phone. anton saw right through your act though, especially because you looked just as disheveled as shotaro.

“just here for the vending machine.” anton said.

you three were forced to bask in the awkward atmosphere as anton walked to the machine. anton took his sweet time, going over the options a million times like it was his first time seeing the machine. you couldn’t see anton’s face but you’re sure he was smiling, making you two suffer through the consequences of your actions.

“you like cola right, anton?” shotaro said. 

now you were trying to hold back your laugh at shotaro ver yclearly trying to rush anton out of the room.

“i love cola.” anton said, holding back a laugh.

the soda dropping from the vending machine was the only sound in the room. anton slowly walked to the door and opened the soda, making an obnoxious sound after taking a sip. with his hand on the door, anton cast a look backwards.

“you two lovebirds have fun.” anton said giggling.

after that incident, you and shotaro became more careful. you set rules in place to avoid having to bear through another awkward moments like that one. only kissing on the lips was allowed in public places with no locks on the doors. no more grinding, no more shotaro putting a quick hand in your pants in shared spaces or you giving him hickeys in spots his shirts covered.

because of this, you two hadn’t gone beyond chaste kisses for nearly two weeks. it had gotten to the point that you thought you were going to die if you weren’t able to get him alone soon. your prayers were ironically answered when shotaro got sick. it wasn’t anything serious, something similar to a simple cold. so close to the comeback it was important for shotaro to quarantine from his group so it didn’t spread. 

you won’t believe this, but i’m all alone in the dorms right now.

you nearly fell over when you saw that text. you had never been somewhere so fast in your life, getting to the dorms in record time. shotaro did seem a little sick when he opened the door, but your need for him outweighed the risk of getting sick. 

shotaro couldn’t even close the door before your lips were on his. you had to shut the door with your foot as you continued to kiss shotaro, moving backwards towards his bedroom. you two made a mess in the space between the door and shotaro’s room. things were pushed off of the tiny table beside the couch as shotaro leaned you against it. being able to lean against the piece of furniture gave you the ability to wrap your leg around shotaro’s waist, pulling him into you.

“someone is eager.” shotaro laughed before going to kiss your neck.

he was mocking you but just as depraved. you could feel his hardening dick press against your heat. your rushed hands made quick work of your shirt. you had strategically chosen a button up so you wouldn’t have to waste time pulling a shirt over your head. 

“how long do we have?” you asked.

you contemplated letting your boyfriend fuck you then and there on that tiny table, or moving it to the couch. but if time allotted, you wanted to fuck him properly on his bed.

“an hour atleast. my medicine is across town.” shotaro said.

you push shotaro lightly by the shoulders, getting off of the table. 

“let’s go to your room then.” you say.

shotaro basically runs to his while you laughing at him. all signs of shotaro’s being sick is gone as he undresses himself at the speed of light. shotaro doesn’t even bother to take off his shirt before he pulls you to the bed with him. you both giggle as he helps you out of your clothes. he kisses the exposed body that he hasn’t gotten the chance to kiss in so long.

“look who’s the eager one now.” you laugh. 

shotaro is still giggles as he trails kisses up and down your body. you laugh when he hits a ticklish place and gasp when he bites you slightly. all the kisses are wet and melt into your skin.

“how do you want it?” shotaro asks.

he has to look up at you from your thigh, the place where he left an already forming hickey. shotaro hopes that you get the hint of him being so close to your heat that you let him eat you out. you want nothing more than that, feeling his sloppy wet kisses on your folds and his fingers on your clit. but you know that shotaro has the tendency to get carried away while tasting you, and you won’t be able to stop him once he starts. you also know that you need it rough and fast before time slips away and you don’t think you can go another day without feeling him inside of you. so you sit up on the bed as shotaro follows your every move.

“can you do it from the back?” you ask.

“of course.” shotaro says.

he leads you to your hands and knees and you sink into your arch while shotaro helps you, spreading your legs a little wider so he can slot himself between them. before you reach for his pillow shotaro stops you by placing a soft smack to your ass. he swipes his dick between your folds, collecting the slick that’s there. you let out a tiny gasp feeling him.

“i need to hear you baby.” shotaro says.

you had become so accustomed to hiding your mewls and moans into shotaro’s pillows and blankets that it had become second nature to grab a muffler for. your cries. but you were alone, so you let out a tiny whine as you could hear shotaro pumping his length. 

“that’s my girl.” shotaro said. 

his other hand goes to the small of your back, pressing down slightly. anticipation builds over your body as you wait for shotaro. just when you think he’s about to put it in he rests on his haunches. he puts two fingers inside of you and you moan and push your ass back. shotaro gives you another smack to keep you in place as he fucks you with his fingers. 

“taro.” you whine breathlessly. 

you are so desperate this alone has you on edge. shotaro places a kiss to your ass cheek and sucks on the skin. you can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers in your clit and he breaks away from your ass cheek with a lewd pop.

“gotta stretch you out. but you’re so wet it won’t be a problem right?” shotaro says. 

you can hear the smirk in his voice as he adds in a third finger. you don’t care if he’s teasing you or if he wants you to beg. you will give him whatever he wants if that means he’ll fuck you. you shake your head into the mattress and you clench around his fingers.

“shotaro please put it in.” you cry out.

shotaro withdraws his fingers and gets up from the back of his legs. he gives your ass gentle pats, watching the recoil of your ass. 

“patience baby.” shotaro says

shotaro uses the same that was inside of your to guide his dick to your entrance. he moves his hand from his dick to your ass to spread you out further. your hands grip the sheets of the bed when you can feel him prodding past your folds.

you let out a prolonged whine as shotaro slowly sinks into you. the way he has you spread makes you feel him more and guides him in deeper. you are both lost in the feeling, shotaro takes the bottom of his shirt into his mouth for a better view. he keeps you still when he sinks all the way in, loving the feeling of your squirm and clench around his length. you can’t believe how cruel the world was, keeping you from feeling this for so long. shotaro pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he takes off his shirt, his body becoming too hot feeling you clamp around him

“i missed this pussy so much.” shotaro said. 

he looks at your face, half of it pressed into the mattress. the half shotaro can see is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly open as little sounds escape you. he needs to find time in his life to fuck you slow and steady so he can kiss your eyebrow kisses as he draws sounds from you. but right now, there’s an carnal need in him to fuck you fast before something interrupts him.

“can i go fast baby?” shotaro asks sweetly. “we are running out of time.”

you free one of your fists from the sheets and reach a hand backwards for shotaro to hold. he grabs it without hesitation.

“please.” you say.

that’s all shotaro needs before he pulls out his length and thrusts it back into you. you begging lit a fire inside of him, breathed a new vigor into his hips. his skin slaps against your ass as he fucks you from the back. his hand gives you stability, to the point you start pushing your hips back to meet his.

“oh my god.” you cry into the bed. 

“i know. you feel so good.” shotaro groans. his words are accented with rough thrusts and almost drowned out by skin colliding. he adds another smack to your ass and picks up speed. “i can’t get enough.”

“don’t stop.” you say.

you clench onto his hand before moving your grip to his bicep. shotaro uses his strength to pull your upper body up from the bed, and you place a hand on the headboard to support your body. you can feel yourself getting close, sensitive from days of no contact. you curse yourself for not being able to hold on a little longer, but maybe shotaro will be a little mean and keep fucking as your orgasm takes over your body. your chest bounces from the force of the thrust and you feel shotaro’s hand that was on your ass reach underneath your extended arm to grab your breast. he kneads the supple skin in his hand. his thrusts remain consistent, fucking you in a steady but fast pace.

“can’t stop when i’m in this pussy.” shotaro says. “so tight it won’t let me go.”

everything about you is so soft. your breast is soft in shotaro’s hand, the skin of your ass that smacks against his pelvis is like a pillow, and your gummy walls bring shotaro relief from everyday life. he wishes he could tell you about all the things he loves about you, how badly he wished he had a day alone with you to make up for his absence. but he can barely form a vocal thought as you whine to him.

“i’m close.” you whimper.

“i got you.” shotaro grunts

you let go of shotaro’s bicep and he lets you go. you lower your hand from the headboard and go back to your original position. shotaro takes handfuls of your ass to spread your cheeks and lifts his leg up. this has you nearly screaming out grabbing onto anything you can find. 

shotaro is desperate, trying to get you to cum as soon as possible. his stamina always comes in handy in situations like these. he admires how your body quickly reacts to his tempo changes and how deep he goes. its like you were made for him the way you clench around him perfectly. 

between shotaro’s thrusts and you clamping around him, neither of you are paying attention to the outside world. your moans had turned into whimpers and pants, so entrancing that shotaro doesn’t hear the door open. you don’t hear sungchan asking where the hell the mess came from or footsteps coming towards shotaro’s closed door. 

what you do hear is the door open and eunseok’s loud oh my god and sohee yelling out loud. it happens too quickly, shotaro pulling out of you and grabbing the covers to hide your naked body. you quickly turn your body to face the door, seeing seunghan cover sohee’s eyes and anton’s jaw to the floor. next thing you know you’re yelling too, from the pure embarrassment of six guys walking in on you naked and exposed. 

“what are you guys doing here?” shotaro asks bewildered. 

he’s lucky his boxers were still on the bed. you don’t know when shotaro put them back on, you bring the sheets up to cover your eyes. you still continue to yell from the pure shock of the moment.

“we brought you soup and your medicine. is this why you wanted us to get it from the place across town?” sungchan asks. 

he sounds as bewildered as shotaro, not believing the sight in front of him. you slowly bring the sheets down from your eyes to see the six men still frozen in the doorway. even shotaro is still on the bed, trying to process everything

“please get out.” you screech. 

this pulls everyone out of their trance, suddenly aware of you being completely naked underneath the sheets. they bump into eachother trying to back out of the room, someone at one point even falling down. they apologize profusely to you, saying they didn’t know. 

even when shotaro’s door closes you dont emerge from underneath the covers. you stay there mumbling over and over again how traumatized you are. shotaro finds a little bit of humor in the situation cooing at you while he hugs you over the blanket.

“did you cum?” shotaro asks sarcastically.

you emerge from the sheets for only a second to hit him with a pillow before going back under. 

[monayen]

Hey!!! HI!!! YOUR FANFICS ARE SO GOOD AACK

Can we (the starved) please have a Nyen dating hcs?? The reader can also be Luther's pet hshshshshs I'm literally going insane godd I'm so sorry Nyen's just so... So fucking fine..

Dating headcannons | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - degradation, sadism, biting/marking, blood kink, predator/prey kink, mentions of killing, hes bad at emotions okay

a/n - trying to figure out how i want to format hcs so ignore that this looks different than the luther dating hcs. please. anyhoots whos dating hcs should i start doing next >.>

Hates you a little (probably)

Not in the “wants make you suffer and kill you” type of way he usually hates, but rather the “why do you make me feel this way?” type

How you make his cheeks redden and his palms sweaty, sharp nails digging into his own skin in overwhelming nervousness. It makes him feel weird, no matter how hard he tries to hide it

To care for someone other than his master, especially just a weak, pathetic pet like you… Nyen thinks in turn it makes him weak and pathetic

Knows loyalty from Luther. Knows satisfaction and pleasure from killing. But genuine love? It made him want to tear his heart out just to stop it from beating so fast when he sees you

The romance manga Randal gifted him hadn’t prepared him at all. He's reread them and reread them in an attempt to understand how he should feel but he still needed time to wrap his head around the reality of being in a relationship

Did feel like he needed permission from his master to be with you. Thankfully, Luther was happy (how cute!) as long as it didn't affect his pet duties. Nyen doesn't know what he would've done if Luther said no.

Doesn't like terms like boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, you're just his.

Calls you baby or sweetheart. Some pet names you’d hear a trashy construction worker catcall a woman down the street with. His gruff voice doesn't help

Doesn't really care what you call him as long as it isn't sickly sweet… does have the smallest thing for being called sir… but only in private!

He most likely wouldn't act much like a good boyfriend in front of people. Sorry, his own pride is just too high to look all lovey-dovey in front of others

Basically the embodiment of “he's just bullying you because he likes you!” you’d get from an adult when a boy would torment you in school. Except he actually does like you. Weirdo Nyen’s more comfortable when it’s just you, which means he doesn't feel the need to be brooding and scary in private

Loves to lay on your lap and have his head pet while he reads or watches television like the catman he is. Eventually falls asleep after some time so don't dare move.

Schedule tends to be the same, he's not all about change. His day consists of doing what Luther tells him, working out, and watching out for pests or danger

Still about the same since you guys have been together, but he tries include you in his day as much as possible

It can be nice, like him wanting you to watch him workout. Making sure to show off his abs and biceps… acts like he doesn't do it on purpose for you to oogle at

Nonchalantly boasts about how he can pick you up with ease, no matter what you weigh

Has in fact proved it multiple times by carrying you around place to place

Wouldn't mind you exercising with him– but be careful. He's a harsh trainer, can and will push you until you're a sweaty, exhausted mess. Kinda turns him on…

Other times, he’ll drag you into more dangerous or scary situations just so he can protect you

You're his perfect damsel in distress, someone to run into his arms and hold closely

Actually wouldn’t let you be in real danger. But if he knows he can handle it, (which he can) he’s not opposed to your praise about how he’s saved you

On the opposite end, Nyen also enjoys playing hunting and chasing games with you. There are times when he has taken you to a nearby forest, releasing your hand where the evergreens are the thickest, and in his low voice, he says, “Run.”

He loves to focus on the scurry of leaves crunching beneath your feet, the sight of your figure trying to keep up ahead of him, and the sound of your rapid breathing as he gets closer and closer

Nyen pounces and catches you every single time, dark pupils dilated with pure adrenaline as he constrains you. Hours will pass before you’re home again

There's not many date-like activities Nyen is interested in doing. Nyen doesn’t care to plan them, you live together anyways!

But if you insist, a picnic is the go-to. Simple, outside of the house, and he gets to have as much beer and undercooked chicken as you can stuff into a basket

Can also take you out on late night drives. Speeding down long, tree lined roads as CD music blasts with a hand resting on your thigh. (Nice!)

Does go out of his way to hit any animal(man?) unfortunate enough to be on the road. If he manages, he’ll pull over and make you look at the mangled body with him (Not so nice.)

Lots of territorial behavior. Nyen loves to share his extra clothes or his cigs (if you smoke) so you’re smelling like him. It just connects you two together, without having to say a word

Speaking of territorial… marks a lot. Biting, scratching, hickies. Even bruises if he's extra rough

He doesn't let you hide them. Would probably explode if he caught you trying to cover them with makeup or clothes and end up punishing you by marking even more

Libido is very high. Didn't actually get much action before being with you, mostly jerking off after a successful kill

But with you? Practically at any chance, he will

Doesn't care if you haven't showered, shaved, or prepped in any way. Will always find you incredibly attractive and irresistible

Even if you have periods, he’ll still pin you against the wall and rub his cock against you. The blood turns him on baby!

Has a fantasy of you being covered in the blood of one of his victims while he fucks you. Maybe less of fantasy and more of a goal. One day…

Treats it like a game, pulling and teasing you beforehand. Nails dug into your hips, a low voice in your ear whispering about how you’ve been teasing him “like the slut you are”

Drags you away from whatever you're doing. Not sneaky or polite when he pins you against the closest surface available, the only gentleness being the steady growl of his voice. Nothing possibly can't be as important as the need to stuff his aching cock inside what's his

Has fucked you in every room besides his Master’s and Randal’s. Would just be too weird…

A sadist (duh), but cares about you feeling good too. Won't hurt you too bad, though his definition of what is too bad might be different from yours. He wants you alive and mostly conscious

Made an effort to learn proper aftercare and to be less selfish, as he never felt the need to before

Still uses too much teeth when giving head and offers you a lukewarm bottle of water after sex… but it's the thought that counts!

Has a bunk with Nyon and still makes you sleep with him. Problem tends to be that it's wayyyy too tiny for both of you. You’ve complained to him to ask Luther for a bigger and separate bed but he gruffly responded for you to shut up and let him spoon in peace

Kicks Nyon out of the room a lot so it could just be the two of you. It's almost childish, bitching and hissing if Nyon doesn't give up his space. Poor guy, he just wants to lay in bed and smoke :/

Bit of a night owl, doesn't actually need to sleep much yet he still likes to. but does so very late. You’ll only know he's in bed when he snores against your neck

Always awake first, he's got more important things to do than lay around in bed with you (as he claims)

Will come back a bit later and wake you up with a cup of the most bitter black coffee in a cheesy matching mug. Just as an apology for the scratch and bite marks leading between your thighs he gave you last night. Drink it all, it's rude if you don't :(

[archangeldyke-all]

Hii! Wanted to say that I check your blog the second I start checking my phone every single morning! I love your blog sm and I'd like to thank you for all these wonderful sevika content. You make my day every day<<<3

So, what about sev with reader while reader is suffering from postpartum depression? Maybe reader doesn't want to hold little fucker or breastfeed her.

thank u for such a sweet note! hehe the idea that i'm part of ur morning routine is so sweet i'm like the lesbian newspaper lolol

men and minors dni

sevika knew this was a possibility.

the moment she learned you were pregnant, sevika went into Research Mode. not just for the baby-- how to babyproof a house and pick a baby name and not pass on generational trauma-- but for you too.

so while it breaks her fucking heart seeing you like this-- she's thankful for the fact that she was prepared for it, and knew what to look for.

it's been two months since you gave birth to your perfect little girl, and your postpartum blues have officially become postpartum depression.

you feel truly horrible. in all senses of the word.

physically, you're still recovering from a rough labor and delivery.

mentally, you're so exhausted and foggy that all you can find the energy to do is cry.

and emotionally, you feel like a failure.

for nine months, you were anxiously awaiting the arrival of your beautiful, healthy baby girl. and now she's here, the most important, precious thing in your life... and you can't even hold her.

sevika's been a fucking godsend.

she's constantly reminding you that this is normal. that 15% of people experience what you're experiencing after birth, that the act of giving birth is so intense and hormonal and disruptive and it's no wonder you're still out of wack afterwards, that your daughter loves you, that she loves you.

she's been dragging you to the doctors office once a week, your daughter in her carrier on her left hand, a list of concerns she has about you in her right.

she's been gently feeding you the medicine you've been prescribed each night with a nice warm cup of tea, kissing up your tears when they fall.

she knows that when this ends, what will come next is the endless guilt for being sick during your daughters first few moments. so, she's been taking endless pictures and videos for you-- little fucker throwing up, little fucker sleeping, little fucker's pooping face, and her first sink-bath, and her fast asleep on sevika's chest.

each night, sevika will crawl into bed beside you, little fucker in her arms, and the two of them will sit beside you and tell you what they did all day.

"and then after our walk, what did we do baby?" sevika asks your daughter, an adoring smile on her face. you want to cry but you've been out of tears since dinner, so instead you just reach out and hold sevika's hand. "oh, right, you took a nap and mommy washed all your new clothes from the store-- you're gettin' too big for your newborn clothes, baby girl!" she coos, running her finger against your daughter's chubby cheek.

then, she'll lay a sleeping little fucker down in her crib at the foot of your bed, and pay attention to you.

she helps you pump, holding you and kissing your head while you cry against her shoulder.

"i give it two months 'til you're back to normal babe." sevika whispers, rubbing your back.

you chuckle. "what makes you think that?"

sevika shrugs. "remember how much worse you were a month ago before you got your medicine? before you started goin' to your new-mom support group?" she asks. back then, you were sleeping more than your newborn, close to twenty hours a day, and when you were awake, you were just crying and staring at the ceiling. "look at you now, honey." sevika whispers. "went on a walk with us this morning, pumping three times a day, reading in bed instead'a sleepin'... you're coming around."

you melt into your wifes arms. "how am i ever gonna thank you for this, sev?" you ask.

"thank me?" she asks. you nod.

"for taking care of me. and our girl. holdin' down the fort with a fuckin' newborn while i get my head back on right."

"honey." sevika sighs, kissing you firmly on your forehead. "you never gotta thank me. 'm your wife, did you forget that?" she teases. you snort, pinching her side. "i'd do this forever-- 'til the end of time-- if it means i get to be spending time with my girls."

you fall asleep crying-- which isn't unusual nowadays. but, today, instead of crying from dread or anxiety or the pit of darkness in your chest-- you're crying out of love.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette

[toomanythoughts2]

Headcanons of Nathan sharing happy childhood experiences with his bandmates because they all have shitty childhoods and he loves tolerates them.

Nathan pours warm laundry on Toki when he's in his room. Toki is so happy when he does this because it's always so warm and everything smells so nice, and Nathan is saying stuff like, "Are you all warm now, little buddy?" and it makes him feel giddy. Also very regression coded.

When Murderface is suffering from nightmares, Nathan will touch his face and glide over the ridges and contours of his facial features to lull him back to sleep. Murderface always acts like it won't help but the affectionate touch always knocks him out in seconds. It's a very private thing that happens between them and Murderface doesn't like the idea of people knowing and making fun of him.

When swimming, Nathan will pick up his band mates and throw them as far as he can. Pickles will usually get the most distant being smaller than everyone, but Toki will ask for it the most. He also plays other games like Sharks and Minos, Colors, and Marco Polo. He will judge the others diving board jumps, play ring toss, and time races. He'll ask them to perform handstands, which Skwisgaar is exceptional at, and do flips in the water. Afterwards, they all get naps in their chairs because swimming knocks them all out.

Nathan will remind Skwisgaar to put lotion on his hands after practice because the strings dry out his skin. If he doesn't do it, he'll put it on himself, which usually includes him pulling on his fingers, pressing into his palm, and rotating his wrists. Skwisgaar never says anything about them but he will admit that his hands feel better when he does that. Nathan will also remind Murderface to put on his eczema cream and will put it on him when he tries to fight him about it.

Nathan is the reason that the other band members like Disney so much. He was the OG Disney adult of the group and had to basically bribe them to go to Disney. He planned the whole thing, showed them hidden Mickeys, taught them how to use the Fast Lanes, told them specific history of the rides and even some notorious bad visitor stories. He made sure they got good seats for the parades and the fireworks, and even let Toki climb his shoulders for a better view. He would have picked up Pickles but he was content standing next to him. He made them fall in love with going to Disney because his parents did the same thing for him.

He regularly has "sleepovers" with Pickles. Usually held in his own room, Nathan will go all out and rent a movie, get popcorn and candy, get into his nice PJs, bring out comic books and soda and all the stuff that he used to do while at a sleep over. They would build a fort and drink and smoke while watching "Transformers" and make bad commentary about the movie like they were on "Mystery Science Theater 3000." They would then fall asleep with the lights still on at around 3am because they were too busy laughing and giggling at each other from the exhaustion to actually fall asleep.

When Mordhaus (apartment) got storms, he would calm down Toki and Skwisgaar by teaching them all of the old sayings of what thunderstorms, lightening, and thunder are. "Thunder is just god going bowling and getting a strike." "When you hear lightening, that's because god sneezed." And he would teach them how to calculate how far away the lightening is by counting the seconds between a lightening flash and the sound of thunder. They would still be a little shaken up, especially Toki, so he would try to keep them as calm as possible.

Nathan has a secret language that only him and other bandmates know. It's incredibly stupid and easy enough to decipher, but its the fact that they have it that makes it special. Sometimes they use it during meetings to talk to each other without others understanding them. They'll tell jokes, talk trash, or just say nonsense cause they can. Over time they forgot about it but by that point it didn't matter because they've been friends for so long that they naturally created their own language with English.

[valeriianz]

Smutty fic idea prompts - 36 is just perfect for Dreamling please?

36: A rolls sleeves up/takes shirt off, revealing body hair to B. B has no idea how to act normal around A anymore.

Hob dresses up as Sexy Santa for a staff party and Dream absolutely loses his cool <3

-----------

These days, Dream finds himself as the newest addition to Johanna Constantine’s friend group. It’s quite nice of her, if not a little presumptuous, to drag him along to nearly every social outing and local music show in order to introduce him to as many people in her network as possible. The only reason they are still friends, Dream and Jo, is the small mercy of her not putting up a fuss when his social battery has been drained and he awkwardly dips out.

The best thing to come out of these adventures, at least, is meeting Hob Gadling.

Hob and Jo go way back, or so she’d announced the first time he and Dream had met. At a bar where the lights were low but Hob’s natural charisma and warm smile had radiated through anyway. They got along immediately, exchanging intellectual conversations where Hob had surprising takes and kept Dream’s interest; kept the dialogue fresh and spontaneous. Dream didn’t even need to contribute much while sharing a space with Hob, he could simply sip on his gin something-or-other and listen as Hob went on passionate rants about revolutions or human invention over the past centuries– each time they met up he’d go down a 100 years. Or complaining about how washed up Shakespeare was (an argument Dream allowed himself to fall into and they’d talked about all night, much to Johanna’s chagrin and massive eye roll, muttering a very clear “nerds” under her breath).

Chemistry aside, Dream also couldn’t deny how… effortlessly attractive Hob was.

Deep brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with barely contained mischief, chocolate dark hair with brush strokes of greys that unfairly complimented his face, and a seemingly permanent five O’clock shadow that Dream never imagined would leave him staring and daydreaming… alas, he’d discovered quite a few new things about himself around Hob.

Like how he’d imagined on more than one occasion, how easily he’d be able to lift Dream, how those broad shoulders and chest, thick biceps that even a cable knit sweater couldn’t hide– might manhandle his own body, lifting and bending him into submission. Dream ached with it; the possibilities. Was dying to kiss Hob’s plush mouth, his gaze fell to it enough, or feel the stubble of Hob’s jaw under his own palm, under his lips, along the inside of Dream’s thighs.

Hob was everything Dream was not; roguish, masculine, and unbearably kind. It was no wonder Dream had developed a crush from their very first meeting.

And maybe Hob was interested too, if you squinted. He always offered Dream a ride home, set his hand on the small of his back, his shoulder, and never seemed to stop smiling in his presence. Dream was never very good at picking up cues though�� his prior relationships had been him making the first move, striking immediately at what he wanted, courting in the most by-the-book manner, before he was ultimately either rejected or caught up in a love affair that burned out before the year was up.

He didn’t want to do that with Hob. Dream held back, kept his desires at bay… because he truly enjoyed Hob’s company. It would be devastating if Hob rejected him, or worse, fell into a relationship and then realised Dream was… too much, too fast, too methodical. Dream wasn’t sure he could handle not having Hob in his life now that he’d met him. He was determined to keep him around, even if it meant remaining friends. Dream could work with that, could suffer quietly and go home after a long night of drinking or dancing and being subjected to Hob’s ever-present smile, his unwavering gaze, the warmth his body radiated, even feet apart. Could hold onto those images and sensations and close his eyes, take himself in hand, and work himself to climax in the safe darkness of his own bedroom, clenching his teeth and imagining how it might feel if it were Hob’s hands on him instead.

All of Dream’s self restraint comes crashing down about a week before Christmas, at the staff holiday party Johanna had invited him along to.

Because Hob is sitting on a large red velvet chair at the back of the venue, surrounded by cotton snow and boxed presents, wearing absolutely nothing but a Santa hat, explicitly short red and white trousers, and black boots.

It’s a mockery of what you’d see at perhaps a mall: Santa waiting to greet children and ask what they want for Christmas while his elves putter around and keep order. This is…

Obscene, is what Dream’s brain provides before it completely resets and replaces the word with animal noises.

He’d overheard Hob and Johanna talking about this, how they had a “sexy Santa” every year (because Jo’s office was mostly comprised of women who voted on it every year, vastly sweeping the competition to the point of tradition). And to save on money this year, decided to find a Santa who would do it for free, hence Jo asking Hob to do her a solid.

Dream felt heat rush through his entire body, unable to look away as Jo, Matthew, and him walked out of the foyer and into the thick of the party. Dream heard Johanna speaking, but couldn't decipher her words, his brain wiped clean by the reveal of Hob’s body, something Dream had only imagined in the safety of his own head, and kicked himself over the exclusion of hair.

So much body hair. Thick, dark hairs covered Hob’s chest like a pelt, rolling down his abs and scattered out around his soft belly. It was enough to make Dream’s mouth water, a ringing sound began in his ears, making him dizzy as he forced one foot in front of the other.

Dream had only met Hob a couple months ago, while the weather had just turned cold and they’d both only seen one another buttoned and bundled up in high necklines and long sleeves. To see Hob nearly completely nude was a shock to Dream’s system. And holy shit, Dream wanted. He had to know how those thick hairs felt between his fingers, digging them in while he sat on Hob’s lap, grinding his hips down while his own naked chest slid along Hob’s. What sounds Hob would make while Dream petted and pulled and rubbed his cock along the swell of Hob’s furred stomach.

And then Hob spotted them coming in, his smile dazzling as he stood up and waved.

Giving Dream a fantastic view of his legs, which were just as thick and strong as Dream had fantasised, and just as hairy as his top half. As well as a view of how those pants rode up enough to make Dream question if the man was wearing underwear.

Dream stumbled to the nearest restroom, locking himself in a stall and attempting to breathe and calm his erratic heart beat.

Friend, friend. Hob is your friend. Dream chanted to himself, keeping his hand out of his pants and taking deep breaths as his blood circulation regulated itself. Don’t make it weird.

Dream didn’t know how to socialise on a good day, and how with a half naked Hob in the building– shamelessly on display and humouring drunk female staff as they boldly sat on his knee– Dream felt himself shutting down entirely, spluttering and stumbling over his speech with enough velocity that he feared he'd glitch and spark out, setting the place on fire. Or at the very least, melt into a puddle of goo, the remains of his dignity soaked into the hardwood floor.

Dream tossed back drink after drink, matching Jo’s pace if only to distract his wandering thoughts, losing his jacket somewhere in the scuffle and rolling up the sleeves of his black button down.

Johanna’s laughter snapped Dream back to the present, looking down at the red solo cup in his hand and Jo standing across from him, visibly swaying on that spot. Dream doesn’t remember what he’d said to elicit such a reaction, but felt his lips curl anyway. 

“What’s so funny?”

“You, dreamboat!” Jo’s laughter simmered down to a pleasant chuckle, if not a little devious. “I thought– nah, can’t be. But holy shit, you like Hob, don’t you?”

It took several long, embarrassing seconds to figure out what Jo just asked him. Dream felt warmth spreading up his ears.

“Of course. He’s my friend–”

“Nonono–” Jo stepped into Dream’s space, landing a heavy hand on his bony shoulder. “You like him. I can tell, because you haven’t spoken to him all night.”

Dream swallowed. The alcohol was affecting his brain, sloshing it around and rendering him speechless.

Johanna smirked. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re a menace, Constantine.” Dream said, pushing her hand off him and sliding his gaze sideways to find Hob rubbing the tops of his thighs. It’d been well over an hour since they’d arrived, Dream wondered how long Hob had been sitting there, playing a role he clearly wasn’t enjoying anymore.

Jo inclined her head.

“He likes you too.”

Dream’s head snapped back to meet Jo’s eyes, searching for that tell of humour or sarcasm, and finding none.

She leaned in conspiratorially. “He told me not to tell you. Thinks your eyes are ‘dazzling’ and your hands are pretty–” she makes a face at that one. “And that your hair looks– and I quote– ‘like raven’s feathers’.”

Dream swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

“When did he tell you this?”

Jo huffs a sigh, taking a sip from her beer, her lips making a smacking sound off the bottle’s mouth.

“The night after I introduced you two.”

Dream’s heart flips over at the revelation. 

Johanna winks and shoves at Dream’s shoulder. “Now go say hi before you break his heart.”

Taking Johanna’s advice seems like a death sentence, but Dream is just drunk enough to summon courage, finishing off his drink and setting the empty cup on a random surface, before forcing his shoulders back and finally making his way towards Hob.

The smile that breaks across Hob’s face once he spots Dream is staggering, and it strikes Dream down more so than before, informed with the knowledge that Hob might like him as much as Dream does.

Dream slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks, affecting nonchalance as he finally stands before Hob.

“Hello, Hob.”

“Hey, Dream.” Hob tugs on his ear, looking up at Dream. His entire body seems to relax, even slouching a bit in the chair. “Was surprised to see you here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

Dream hums, his eyes selfishly taking in their fill. This close to Hob, he can catalogue every hair, curve and freckle in greater detail, storing the information away for later.

And with Hob looking up at him, giving the illusion of superior height, an unmistakable flicker of arousal begins low in Dream’s belly. 

“I can be persuaded, from time to time.” Dream smiles, coy. The alcohol gives him a confidence boost and relaxes him further. “I apologise for not visiting you sooner.”

Hob waves it off. “I honestly didn’t expect you to. I know this is… a lot.” He gestures to himself and laughs self-deprecatingly. “I only agreed to be Sexy Santa because I owe Jo a favour.”

“It’s a fetching look on you,” Dream says, flinging himself into the deep end. He bites his bottom lip as Hob actually looks twice up at Dream, his smile falling into something like disbelief.

“O-oh. Really?” Hob laughs, but it’s small, doubtful. Dream will have to remedy that.

Dream takes a long breath, grounding himself, licking his lips before speaking what he’d wanted to say to Hob all night.

“I believe it’s my turn to ask Santa what I want for Christmas?”

The prettiest pink flush rises up Hob’s cheeks. His lips part as his eyes rove across Dream, down and up.

Despite what Johanna said, Dream feels himself shake with nerves as he tips forward, touching the top of Hob’s thigh before slowly lowering himself onto it. His eyes never leave Hob’s as he goes, silently asking for permission and receiving a nod once he’s fully seated.

Hob’s hand instantly curls around Dream’s narrow hips, holding him steady, locking him into place both upon his lap and in his gaze; wide and dark and focused.

Dream crossed one leg over the other, settling his hands on his knees, which inadvertently causes him to sway that much closer to Hob. He can feel the heat of his body, this close. Can smell something sweet and earthy, like sandalwood and pine, mixed in with something tangy that makes Dream’s mouth water. He has to hold back the urge to close the gap between them and shove his face in Hob’s chest, into the crook of his neck, under his armpit and lose his sanity. Abandon all pretence and inhale Hob like a wild animal, scent and mark him with his teeth and tongue and–

Hob swallows. Dream watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs, fascinated.

“Are you messing with me?”

Dream cocks an eyebrow. “You think me capable of jokes?”

Hob laughs, soft, wonderful. “You are. You’re the funniest person I’ve ever met.”

His thumb is pressing into Dream’s side, caressing back and forth, sending spikes of electricity through his veins and heating him up from the inside.

“No one thinks I’m funny,” Dream says matter-of-factly. 

“Well, you make me laugh,” Hob says simply, his other hand coming across Dream’s front to lace his fingers together, forming a snare around Dream that ignites something within him. “You challenge me, keep me on my toes… keep me guessing.”

Dream’s heart beats so hard against his ribs it nearly hurts. He wonders if Hob can hear it, how he makes his blood race a mile a minute. 

“I’m being very serious,” Dream takes a breath. “But if you deny me, I’ll just say I’m drunk.”

Hob laughs again, his hold around Dream tightening and nearly causing Dream’s knee to bump into Hob’s crotch.

“Are you drunk?”

Dream is very aware that they are in the middle of a party, and although the people around them seem to be paying them little attention, it would probably be inappropriate to follow the path enticing him to resituate himself on Hob’s lap to instead straddle him. To grind his barely contained semi against Hob’s flimsy excuse for shorts, while winding his arms around his shoulders and kiss him stupid.

Dream leans forward, brushing his lips along the shell of Hob’s ear and lowers his voice.

“Not enough to not know what I want.”

Hob groans, Dream can feel the vibration in his own chest as he pulls back just enough to see how his eyes have fluttered shut, swallowing again before opening his eyes and focusing on him.

“And what do you want, Dream?”

“Whatever you’ll give me,” Dream wets his lips. His hands venture up, tentatively brushing his knuckles against Hob’s bronze skin, fascinated at how snow-white his own appears against it. His fingers uncurl as he dares himself to properly touch; pushing into the soft flesh at Hob’s sides and drinking in the unmistakable sound of a choked off whine from his friend.

“I’ll take anything, Hob.”

“Holy shit–” Hob whispers, his head lolling back, exposing his throat which Dream violently refuses to latch his mouth on to.

“Okay…” Hob clears his throat, his eyes swinging over to gauge Dream again. His pupils are blown wide, hunger clear in its depths. “Okay.”

He’s looking at Dream’s mouth as he speaks again. “Meet me out back in 10 minutes?”

Dream bites back a smile and nods, his heart soaring as he climbs off Hob.

Johanna gives him a knowing look as Dream stumbles back into the crowd to find his jacket and coat, managing a wave (great, now he owed her a favour as well) before all but running out of the building to make good on his promise to Hob.

Hob makes good on his offer as well; indeed giving Dream everything he’d wanted. All night.

[phantoms-planet]

Barred Protection Chapter 8

Tw: depression and inmate violence (not graphic)

Masterlist

Batman knew it had to have been Daelus to leak the story. The man had asked to send a letter and then the very next morning Vicki Vale had a story out about the scandal? There wasn’t a chance of it being anyone else at that point. Part of him was mad about it, given that they weren’t ready to handle the aftermath, but the other part of him understood the desperation. Men in bad situations did stupid things trying to fix them.

News outlets had leapt onto the story like savage wolves. It was only hours before the world knew of Dealus’s actions and the true nature of his medicines.

Just as Bruce thought, there was a savage fight over ethics and human rights. The two loudest sides were the people claiming that using the medicine was complacent in torture and child endangerment, and the people claiming it was ableist and classist of anyone who agreed with the former group.

Bruce couldn’t fully agree with either of the points. He could never condone the treatment Danny had gone through, but he wasn’t blind to the suffering Ameliorate had abated. Just like most things in life, there was no black and white answer.

He really wished there was.

“B?” Dick’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “How bad is it?”

“Hmm…”

“That bad?”

Bruce grunted again. It was worse than ‘that bad’. The Justice League was now being accused of not acting fast enough on a shady company, as if something like this was usually part of their duties.

Granted in hindsight they should have acted much sooner.

He let out a grumbling sigh before paging the League for an emergency meeting. They couldn’t go back and fix what happened but now they were going to mitigate the damage as much as possible. Though that ship might have sailed already.

With a swish of his cape, Batman went over to the zeta tube and in seconds he was up in the Watchtower.

Several of the others were right behind him. He led the way to one of the meeting rooms to wait for everyone. Thankfully, and promptly, everyone filed in and took their seats.

Batman pursed his lips before starting. “As you all are aware, the news of what happened regarding Danny has been leaked to the public. There has been great backlash against the League for how slow we were to respond to this, as the news had put it, dangerous precedent for business affairs.”

There was a wave of complaints that filled the room. Batman held his hand up, having to wait several minutes before everyone got their outrage under control. “I am aware that this may be unfair, but it may also not be. We need to have our best public speakers at the press conference. Superman? I want you front and center. I will have a list of topics that are confidential at the moment as well as a few pre-written answers if a question stumps you. Diana, I want you to help him.”

“The two of you are the favorites of the public, they will be easier on you. As for everyone else: Danny is fully confidential. If anyone tries to get you to speak about him, you will answer with ‘The league has already made their statements on the matter’, is this understood?”

A chorus of yesses followed. Flash held up his hand. “What are we going to do with Ameliorate? We can’t let them keep selling medicine, can we?”

“Not as freely.” Bruce stated. “For the time being they are going to be put under suspension. No medicine can be sold unless it is necessary for survival, no patients can be seen under the same conditions. In the wake of things, I think it best if we employ teams on site of dispensaries and clinics to protect the people who need the medication to live. I don’t want protests to get violent with those people as the targets.”

“I agree,” Diana was sitting up straight as a rod, anger barely hidden. “But I also believe there shouldn’t be any more collecting from Danny.”

Another chorus of agreement and Batman held his hand up again. “No, we will not collect more from the boy.”

“Then what of the people who rely on the medicine to live?” J’onn asked, brows furrowed.

Batman didn’t answer as fast this time. He’d been thinking about it and frankly, the only solution he could come up with was synthesizing something that resembled Danny’s tears. He could have his kids help with it to make it go faster.

He let out a sigh. “I will attempt to synthesize the tears. We can’t just let people die without at least attempting this.”

---

Danny floated in the expanse of space lazily. He didn’t need to breathe and the cold didn’t bother him so he could spend as much time as he wanted up here. With earth so tiny below him all that happened felt so far away-

Not-not that anything had happened to him. Everything was fine. He was just…relaxing after a hard day at school, yeah.

“Danny?” He whipped around at the voice. The green skinned man was back and this time he was holding his hands up placatingly. “My name is J’onn, but you may know me as Martian Manhunter.”

Martian Manhunter? The man who’d been harassing him was Martian Freaking Manhunter?! Of course one of the people he dreamed of meeting was being a massive jerk, that was just Fenton luck. Danny turned to fly away but was stopped by a hand to his shoulder.

“Would you like to see my home?” And just like that he was reeled in like a fish.

J’onn changed the dreamscape to an alien world with strange architecture and beautiful views. When Danny started asking questions about anything and everything, J’onn patiently answered them.

He learned about how the society ran, J’onn’s former job, his family (a clearly sore topic), how his planet was destroyed. J’onn needed a moment after that one, Danny let him compose himself as he explored a little more. This was a dream come true!

Danny asked even more questions until he wore himself out and he changed the surroundings back to empty space.

J’onn floated in silence with him for a while. It was nice. Maybe…maybe J’onn was nice too.

“Can I ask about your family?” J’onn gently nudged.

Danny stiffened. Was this a trap of some kind? He watched the alien in front of him for a moment before snorting. No, this was genuine. So…Dany told him. About his parents hunting ghosts, his sister who wanted to be a brain surgeon and wanted to grow up too fast, and when he was out of things to say about them he started talking about Sam and Tucker.

It was like a weight was lifting from his chest. Their surroundings changed with memories that he brought up; showing the Nastyburger, his home, school, and before he knew it Danny was starting to cry.

He didn’t want to cry, he’d done so much of it, but he couldn’t help it. J’onn held him as he broke down with body-wracking sobs.

---

Diana had noticed how relaxed their ward had become. It seemed J’onn’s new approach was working at first, until tears started slipping from Danny’s eyes again.

She quickly grabbed a tissue and began wiping them away. The poor boy had been through so much and he wasn’t even close to being done, the least she could do was wipe his tears for him.

Minutes after Danny started crying J’onn was taking his hand from the boy’s forehead. He met Diana’s eyes. “He wanted time alone. I believe I have reached him on some level though. He showed me his family and friends.” Diana nodded in relief.

After what had happened three tries ago, none of them were sure Danny would let them help. Showing his family was a huge improvement. A second chance.

“I’ll go tell Batman.” She swept to her feet and made her way to the monitors, where Batman was watching closely. “Batman?”

“Hnn?”

“J’onn says Danny showed him his loved ones.”

“Good progress. Have him come debrief with me when he can.”

Diana offered him a small smile. “I will. Do we have progress on the G.I.W?”

Batman let out a much more frustrated grunt. It took him a moment to compile his thoughts but Diana didn’t mind. She liked that he thought before speaking. “There’s…not good news. Researching them I found a set of acts, the Anti-Ecto acts, that make what they’ve done, what they’re doing, completely legal as long as they can prove their specimens are ghosts.”

“How have we not heard of these before?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce was clearly very frustrated. She understood, he liked having everything under control and no unknowns. This was a very important unknown.

Diana set a hand to his shoulder. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing; the public was going to be just as upset hearing about laws that allowed the torture of a young child.

---

Despite what people thought, Daelus was not the one to spill about his operations. He had wanted that to go quietly. As if he would sacrifice his whole company in an attempt to get the bat to listen to him. It was laughable.

No, the letter he had sent was to his assistant. He wanted Carter to re-start the synthesizing of P’s tears.

They had tried for years with no success, but if they could manage it now maybe the company, and the people who needed their medication to live, could be saved.

Unfortunately he had received a letter back saying that everyone who was working on that project had been put under various forms of arrest, and that his methods had been leaked. Who had leaked it? He wasn’t sure. Everyone was under iron tight NDAs.

Either way Daelus’s company was as good as dead.

Grief didn’t even begin to explain how he felt. His whole life’s ambition was gone, his good intentions marred, his reputation so sullied it might as well have been dragged lower than hell.

To say he was reacting poorly was an understatement. Most days he couldn’t get up to brush his teeth, let alone go to the cafeteria to eat.

Not that it would be safe for him anyway.

He had been moved to an isolation ward since the last time he’d been around the other inmates they had…very violent reactions to seeing him. Daelus shuddered at the memory.

Did he think he deserved it? Well…maybe? He hurt a child, sure, but he had also helped so many people. Surely that mitigated some of the harm. And really, how else would he have gotten tears from P, especially at the volume they needed to produce to keep up?

Surely the result had pardoned at least part of the means.

Though Daelus was put out about the fact that he had done those things to a child. Maybe he should have found a better method. Maybe he should have had his scientists work harder on the synthetic version of his tears.

Maybe he shouldn’t have bought a person in the first place.

Maybe his company shouldn’t have been the only thing he cared about for so long.

A puff of air escaped his lips. Daelus couldn’t change what he had done. He wanted to, yes, but he couldn’t.

He wished he could see P again.

He wished he could apologize.

[acourtofthought]

My husband finally put into words for me something that has been the main problem with this whole Anti Gwynriel because of Gwyn's past narrative.

According to Anti's, it's not ok to ship Gwyn with Az because she's not healed enough and hasn't shown that she's ready for a relationship.

According to Anti's, fanart of Gwynriel in provocative positions are not appropriate because it's disrespectful to Gwyn due to her SA, that she needs to first give verbal consent before we're allowed to imagine what a HEA for Gwynriel might look like.

And at first, it almost feels like a gotcha for them because you question whether you're disrespecting real survivors by saying, "she doesn't need to give consent for us to ship them since it's a book." This statement is true, I don't think readers should be forced to abide by real world morals when it comes to possible paths a characters arc might take, however it makes you pause for a moment to question whether what you're saying is disrespectful to those who have been victims.

But he actually flipped that entire thing on it's head when he said, "if the issue is about consent, then why is only being applied to a SA victim? Shouldn't consent be applied to everyone?"

It was kind of a lightbulb moment for me because those Anti's never vocalize how it's wrong for people to ship Eris & Az, Mor & Emerie, Vassa & Lucien (SA victim), Lucien, Jurian & Vassa, the LoA & Helion (because at this point they are not a consenting pair), Nesta & Eris. There are a bunch of non canon, non consent ships in this series and nobody has an issue with those. Nobody takes up the crusade arguing that it's wrong for people in the fandom to imagine those pairings together or drawing fanart of them in NSFW positions. Most of the time they're celebrated but has Emerie consented to having a sexual relationship with Mor? All she did was call her beautiful and Feyre had done the same in ACOMAF. Why do they never call out fanart of that pairing? Or Neris after Nesta harshly rejected him? Where Eris is currently suffering torture at the hands of Beron and we've got no clue as to his sexual preference. Also, Elain only consented to a fully clothed kiss in the bonus (remember, she grew up with human morals which she still holds fast too, she didn't jump right into bed with Graysen), we have no evidence she wanted more yet there's plenty of NSFW E/riel artwork out there and I'm betting some existed before SF, before she even consented to a kiss.

The only time I've ever heard anyone argue for consent or argue against NSFW art is in relation to Az and Gwyn and the message they're sending is that only female characters who have been SA need to give consent before fans should be shipping them.

That's when the shipping agenda makes itself known because if no other non-canon / non-consenting pairing disturbs them to the point they need to create post after post surrounding how wrong people are for shipping them, then it's clear to see that it's only Gwyn being shipped with Az that they take issue with and when only E/riels make these arguments, it seems highly suspect.

Gwyn's SA is irrelevant in terms of consent because EVERYONE should have consent before engaging in physical acts with others no matter their past. However, Gwyn's SA should not be the weight dragging her character down, the scarlet letter on her chest that means the fandom isn't allowed to give her the same treatment that all other characters receive. Where we're free to imagine and create fanart / fanfiction / headcanons (even the NSFW variety) for any pairing that we desire, regardless of their past or preference, even those who have never expressed romantic interest towards one another, except for Gwyn.

Consent in the actual book will be important but consent having already been given in our imaginations so we can imagine possibilities beyond what is currently written is the right of any reader.

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

Pretty sure that the reason Stan Pines, in the last act of Gravity Falls, not only falls for and fails cons, but also acts far more impulsive and self-centered and impulsively money-grabbing than he usually does...

... probably has something to do with Ford returning, effectively telling Stan to "Get your shit and get out" after summer ends.

And that's... after 30 years of Stan doing whatever he can to rescue Ford, and keep himself, afloat. After over 10 years of homelessness, scrapping buy, crossing criminal lines (..and probably going to Columbia to dodge the Vietnam Draft).

And the man is like 60 something.

Stan was probably having some severe PTSD flashbacks the entire time, made worse by age, and the additional add on that his work of literal decades, with focus on family and surviving, came out to Nothing and he was about to get thrown back to square one, do not pass go.

I'd be tripping up all over everything to. Its a testament to his skill as a entertainer and shyster that he wasn't falling apart at every hour.

==

On the Flipside....

Ford has spent the last 30 years on the run. He's wasn't just lost in another dimension, he was lost into the whole multiverse.

( Though, implied to be more akin to running into realms where the natural laws or histories are different--as opposed to parallel earths. So a bit like teleporting to Xen in Half Life.)

With the distinct implication that when he fell into another dimension... he kept falling into them.

( Think on it. It took a entire portal meant to destabilize the universe in order to dimension hop in the first place. That sort of thing doesn't just pop up at K-mart; when he went through the super-duper portal, it kept portalizing him over the course of 30 years. )

So Ford had no place he could stay long, without the possibility of him getting teleported, or noclipping or Something (we have no idea on the details--but the speculation of implication is fun), immediately forcing him to adapt to a new environment with new rules whenever it happened.

As such, we now have a guy who is good to go on a moments notice and has everything he needs on him at all times.

So if he was to return through the portal and finally find a home, a stable home, and he himself no longer has to fear getting transportalized at random moments; he'd definitely would fight tooth, claw and gods knows what else to keep that home.

And probably, again running with the implications and the world-build set up Gravity Falls had going by this point, suffering his own traumas. By going back through the portal to his own home dimension, there Shouldn't be a worry about getting grabbed and thrown into another dimension again, but after years of dealing with it--the fear and anticipation of it would also produce some serious PTSD.

( Even though we never had Ford around long enough to really explore it... or really to give him as much depth and character as Stan got. All of this about Ford is speculation by implication after all. )

It would explain why he would get so pushy about things and situations (beyond the simple "Plot Plot Plot" writing so the show can hit Weirdmaggedon as fast as possible); if you've had to get dragged into another dimension at a moments notice and at random, you adapt to lack of time and thus, push to get as much done as possible in as small time as you can.

[ It also explains why Ford is just so damn cool headed. After dimension hopping and meeting strange peoples, places, and systems--to return to this place, Earth. There is literally nothing on Earth that could possibly scare him at this point, he's already experienced the worst ]

And that isn't to mention how Ford also suffered Stan's old situation. Homeless, often Penniless (Because what's money worth between dimensions, after all?) and no possible permanent companions to speak of.

To Ford, jumping from place to place is something he's already adapted to and excelled at, so he doesn't even consider Stan's situation in the slightest. To Ford, moving around on Earth isn't anything in comparison to being flung across spacetime into new physics and new atmospheres.

==

There's prolly going to be quite a few arguments and adjustments on the Stan O War 2 before the two can fully understand where each other is coming from.

[midnightfrappe]

FNAF MOVIE THEORY AND RAMBLING (spoilers with some images and quotes)

Okay so, idk where to start but i'll try to make everything that i say connect, starting with Garrett, Mike's lost brother.

We see the exact moment he was taken, just playing around and the next second he was in a car that was driving off. But there was no screaming, not even a scared face from Garrett, this is a kid who's not sure why his brother is chasing the car with so much fear.

We obviously know at the end of the movie that William was the one that did it, but there was never an explanation of why. He did say ''First i killed your brother. Now i'll kill you'', but how did he know about Mike's brother? It could be Vanessa that told him about Mike's brother, but there was something off about William since the beginning of the movie, before Vanessa even knew Mike.

Mike is searching for a job and ''Steve'' is looking thru his records and saying he's trying to figure out who he is. Well, that's exactly what he does when he reads his name. He quickly looks up to him in a shocked way, even getting a closer look at Mike like he was trying to recognize his face which he probably does because he starts acting weird and nervous, then he is very insisting on giving him the job that he knows will surely kill him.

But then again, how does he know Mike and Garrett? The name Schmit could be one of the reasons and just looking at Mike's face is a confirmation. Now this is where i start with my theory.

Garrett was taken just like Charlie in the games, no one was looking and then a car just passed by to use that opportunity, making them the first victims in the movie and games respectively.

Now, that gives the possibility that Garrett's father was somehow connected to William, perhaps as a friend or coworker, because why would William go to a place as far away as the woods just to kidnap and kill a random child if the pizzeria was the safest option? He had a reason to target his friend's son, I can't think of one rn, but that could mean Garrett's dad takes the rol of Henry. Explaining why William recognizes Mike, he was the older son of his friend, the brother of his first victim.

As a bonus, that could explain why Garret didn't scream or looked scared and everything happened so fast. He just saw a familiar face, someone his dad knew and wasn't really a stranger.

William says to Mike at the end ''You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?'', he knows what he did and thinks Mike was trying to go after him (i mean, he was looking for him thru his dreams, but something tells me William thinks he was searching for him irl, that's why he's shocked when he sees him right in his office, the thinks Mike finally found him but my guy was just trying to look for a job lmao).

Now getting a little crazier, in the credits we hear some words that say ''COME FIND ME'', who do we need to find? the children? We already know where they are. William? Let that mf be trapped where he is. The only one we don't know where it ended up was Garrett, but where is he? Maybe that music box at the end is an indication that Puppet is present, and the possibility of having some things related to the games could mean that Garrett may or may not be related to the puppet. (Coffcoff Garret being the Puppet just like Charlie).

Now for some silly stuff: I really think this is an AU where William and Henry swap children, Henry has 3 and William only has one. Of course William would have a normal life after killing kids and ruining Henry's life, he doesn't have to worry about his children killing each other, he just takes care of one who can be easily manipulated and lives a normal life as a career counselor. Giving his trophy (the pizzeria) people who can keep it safe.

Meanwhile Henry's family suffers just like the game but with extra steps, but I also think that Mike and Garret having a good relationship is proof of good parenting, not like the games where Mike bullies his little brother and William doesn't give a fuck about them or Elizabeth. That's also my opinion that the movies could work without the bite of '83 or even sister location, all of that could be avoided with a loving family.

The family Michael Afton and his brothers needed, the one that they deserved.

''This isn't how it happend. This isn't real.''