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osamusriceballs · 8 months

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The Accident - Part XVII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Making out

Words: 1,5 k

About: Back to Onigiri Miya <3

Part I II -> Next Part

"Finally. Took ya long enough."

Osamu rolls his eyes when you both enter the shop. You apologetically smile and wave while uttering a greeting. "Hey, Osamu. Sorry for being late." Atsumu grins widely, simply ignoring Osamu's comment while you both move to the counter, where Osamu is working. You notice that he looks a bit tired after moving closer, the bags under his eyes proof that he probably only slept a few hours before he had to open up the shop again. Yet, he still professionally forms Onigiri with his hands, everything looking as flawless and clean as the last time you had been there.

Osamu finally looks up to you both when you reach him and suddenly raises his brows when he sees how tightly your hand is held by Atsumu's. His mouth opens slightly, as if to comment on it, but he closes it silently without saying anything before he diverts his attention back to the Onigiri in his hands, now with a small smile adorning his lips. Your face warms up and you mentally thank every deity for making Osamu the more tactful and considerate twin. You're quite certain that Atsumu would have commented on that, if he had been in Osamu's place. Such a tease.

You clear your throat and let go of Atsumu's hand, but his grip around yours is so tight that it doesn't make any visible difference. "Samu, I'm starvin'—could eat the whole menu today. Gimme that please." Atsumu points towards the filled plate in front of Osamu, who just groans as a response and rolls his eyes. "Yer only here for five seconds and I already wanna kick ya out."

You blink in surprise when Osamu simply pushes the plate towards Atsumu and then turns around to open the fridge. "I prepared somethin' for ya. Take it before I change my mind." He hands you another plate with dishes that you remember from the last time you had been there, and you hastily pull your hand out of Atsumu's death grip to take it. "That's—amazing! Thank you." Your stomach clenches at the sight of the food, and you become painfully aware of the fact that you haven't eaten anything since last night, and it's around 4 pm at this point.

"I'll make sure to tag ya in an Instagram post, Samu." Atsumu grins and places one hand at the small of your back to direct you towards a free table. "Here." He quickly places his plate on the table and moves back to the counter. "I'll get us something to drink." You smile and nod while you try to calm yourself down. Your heart starts beating faster when you think about what has just happened with him in his apartment. How he had kissed you and held you. How he was laying on top of you and grinding against you- so needily and desperate. How your hands had been buried into his hair, desperate for him to deepen the kiss—and he did.

But it all came to an end when you had moaned against his lips, the sound so breathless and lewd that your eyes shot open—and he pulled away with a curse. "God, y/n. I can't—we shouldn't—gosh, fuck. I want you so badly." You could see his clenched jaw, his flushed cheeks, and feel the hardness in his pants without a doubt. You knew he wants to go further- but the wetness between your legs was also evidence of how much you wanted him, and you were quite certain that he could feel your warmth and wetness through his pants at this point. But you knew it's not right. Not now, not so shortly after all that.

You had taken a deep breath and then untangled your legs around his body. "It's probably for the best if we stop right now." You smiled a bit strained, your body wanting nothing more but to stay here forever and let him have his way with you, but your mind told you to slow down. You didn't want to ruin this by starting something like this too soon. He had simply nodded but still leaned down to press a longing kiss against your lips. You had melted into the feeling of his lips against yours and reached out for him, only to have him grab your wrists a little clumsily while he pulled back from the kiss and pinned your hands to the bed. Your eyes widened at your vulnerable position under him—and a throb of need rushed through your body.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips curled into a smug grin at your reaction. "Oh? Ya like that? Seems like we're in for a good time then." You swore you could have exploded any second, especially if he kept looking at you like that, and you simply released a shallow huff at his words. "Yer really testin' me here, wifey." He closed his eyes for a second and then pulled back. "Imma take a quick shower and then we can grab somethin' to eat at Samu's. Is that alright with ya?" You had simply nodded, too flustered to form words, and he pecked your cheek one last time before he headed to the bathroom.

After that, you wobbly made it to the other bathroom, quickly washing your face and getting dressed again, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were this close to giving in and begging him to sleep with you. You have never felt like this with someone else; Atsumu just elicits feelings and actions from your body that you would never have thought were possible. He's a great kisser, and judging from the way he had been grinding his hips against yours, you were quite certain that he will be equally as good in bed. Your face had heated up again at the thought of sleeping with him, and you had quickly grabbed your stuff and go back to the bedroom. You both quickly took your things and made your way towards Onigiri Miya, but not without making out heavily in the elevator.

"Here ya go." Atsumu places two drinks on the table, and you get pulled out of your thoughts. You try to look calm and composed with a smile and thank him while he takes his seat, shortly admiring him in his simple, yet very attractive outfit. A white shirt and a pair of jeans—nothing special, but when Atsumu wears it, it just looks that appealing.

"Don't worry, these are alcohol-free. I'll stop drinking for a while for sure." He scratches the back of his head bashfully, and you laugh softly. "I figured so. But aren't you training like crazy now? Isn't it bad for you to drink anyway?"

A faint pink hue covers his cheeks at your words. "True that. I'm gonna stay away from alcohol for a long time." He shakes his head and then looks away. "Can't believe it's just a few more weeks till the Olympics. Time is running but- oh, let's start with the food already. Can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." He takes an Onigiri off his plate and eagerly digs in, and you're quick to join him, amused by his cute expression while he's chewing. He must have been starving for sure.

"I feel so much better already." He grins, and you nod while you eat a spoonful of your meal, enjoying the taste of fried rice. "Me too. I love Osamu's food." Atsumu nods and pretends to think for a second and then smugly grins. "Seems like yer fallin' for all the Miya's. We're a talented family after all."

"I'm not falling for all the Miyas!" You weakly protest, but the food could definitely make you consider Osamu as a possible partner. "Just kiddin'." He chuckles but suddenly yawns while he reaches for another Onigiri. "I'll drive ya home after that. I'm way too tired for anything more." He does look exhausted now. You don't know how he manages to even hold a proper conversation in his state, his eyes closing every few seconds before he almost violently pulls them open again.

"That's okay." You smile sympathetically and reach for your drink. He got your favorite, and you feel a sudden warmth running though your body at this realization. "I'm also exhausted after last night. But uhm..." You hesitantly fish for your phone and unlock it. "Do you maybe want to give me your new number?" You feel a faint blush creeping up your cheeks, but you're too afraid that you'll forget about it later- especially when he can barely keep his eyes open. "Oh? Sure." His eyes light up, and he quickly wipes his fingers on his tissue before he takes your phone. "Here ya go. I'll make sure to text ya every day."

"You don't have to text me every day." You snort but smile at the thought of always waking up to messages of Atsumu. "I will. Don't worry." Something about the way he says that makes you believe him, and break the intense eye contact when you take the phone with slightly shaky hands and look at the screen.

There it is, your new contact:

Husband

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starroola · 3 months

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some paisley art can’t believe i relate to a brit ish(?) girl (Scottish??)

#also some paisolly(? for those who like #my art #art #doodle #almost finished spring classes so trying to draw more #lego friends the next chapter #Lego friends #paisley #olly #art mutuals

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cicadaknight · 1 year

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Horizon Forbidden West items 1/2

#hfw #horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #tenakth #fanart #my art #hehe i already posted a couple of these but they're cute so have them again with more context #usin these bad boys for chapter headings for my bookbinding project of pikapeppa's becoming whole #knocked enough out for the first volume #will i recycle them for the next 3? undecided!#i was trying to do them in more of a pen and ink style with no gray #but i am a graphite guy it turns out #i think i'm going to finish binding vol 1 first and if all goes well i'll finish typesetting and illustrating the rest

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clowningaroundmars · 1 month

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Hobie1610 pt. 3

part 3 has finally arrived!!! at a faster rate than part 2 but a bit of a wait nonetheless lol

not entirely sure how long this lil story will go on for but hope y'all are enjoying this ride regardless, whether it ends on the next part or in 3 more chapters ldfjkdhf

in this installment: thrilling action, a high stakes chase, and we get to learn more abt our beloved hobie jones! yippee!

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 2 here<

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

By some miracle, Hobie did not mention the suit to Miles once they started texting semi-regularly.

Unfortunately, they also couldn't really make their lunch date (date? God, get it together, Morales. It is not a date…) as soon as Miles would have liked, due to a million different things getting in the way of them setting a solid day aside to chill together.

Just his luck, of course.

But in the hallways, Hobie actually deigned to give Miles a passing smile every now and then. They didn’t ever get to hang out like they did for those precious few moments on the first day of school, but Miles didn’t feel the crushing weight of guilt every time he saw Hobie in his same classroom anymore. What a relief!

So Miles was mostly okay with how things were going anyhow, even if the hangout ended up falling through and they both decided not to go in the end. He was able to patrol and do his homework in blissful peace for the first time in months.

… Kind of.

That look on Hobie’s handsome face as he looked down past Miles’ coat collar though…

That still ate away at an anxious part of Miles’ brain whenever he had the time to sit down and really let his worries manifest.

No time to think about that now, though. Miles was suited up again on a school night, hoping to get at least an hour’s worth of patrolling in before security at Visions noticed he was absent from his dorm room. He hoped Ganke would be able to cover for him like he always did.

It was yet another cold evening out in New York City, and Miles was steadily covering the edges of Brooklyn, heading towards Manhattan to do a quick sweep through Central Park like he did on occasion. There was always something going on in Manhattan, especially during the evening.

Miles decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek before calling it a night and heading back to Visions.

So away he went-- now fully in his Spiderman element-- vaulting and soaring over buildings, showing off every now and then by doing silly flips and tricks mid-air for the opportunistic New Yorkers looking to snap their Spiderman Sighting of the day. A little social media promo never hurt anyone, after all…

Spiderman finally swung down onto a tree branch on the western side of the park from a street lamp and was just about to lower himself down as inconspicuously as he could, before immediately feeling the tingling electricity of his Spider Senses race up and down his spine, giving him the usual headache along with it.

He crouched down quietly on a branch and watched as a familiar lanky figure streaked across the path underneath him onto the grass and beyond.

Whoever this runner was, he was fast. And hot on his trail was a gang of burly bumbling assholes cursing up a blue streak as they gave chase.

Spiderman’s eyes stayed glued to the fast runner like they were a lifeline. His senses honed in on the person and he erupted out of the leaves of the tree with one mighty leap, sailing through the air to shoot a web out and swing his way on over to the excitement.

Several joggers, people walking dogs after work, and mothers with baby carriages exclaimed and shouted as they were barreled into by the gang of men trying to keep up with their moving target. The runner didn’t seem to be giving up, though, as their long legs sent them flying over bushes and rocks and lounging people as gracefully as a ribbon in the air.

It was indeed getting dark soon again, but the darkness didn’t really affect Spiderman’s senses at all. His mask helped him fine-tune his powerful vision and anticipate the runner’s next moves.

It looked as though they were trying to make their way up towards the Great Lawn from Cedar Hill, but whether the person was planning to make a break for the now-empty Delacorte Theatre or the Metropolitan Museum Of Art… or beyond? That was the million dollar question.

Spiderman didn’t want to lose the person in case they happened to just be a petty thief, since that would be a quick and easy problem to fix. But as he silently chased down the runner alongside (and unbeknownst) to the gang, his suspicions gave way to some other... ideas.

Namely, that the runner seemed young, a bit too young for someone to be pissing off this many fully-grown gang members.

He pushed through his confusion and made a break for the theatre the second he guessed that the runner was pivoting in that direction.

The trees were getting thicker the closer they got to the Belvedere Castle and Spiderman eventually resorted himself to hoofing it, mindful of sticking to the shadows of the foliage that surrounded them on all sides.

He was super grateful now more than ever that his suit happened to be his signature sleek black and red, rather than the tacky and hyper-visible reds and blues of many of his Spider counterparts (sorry Peter!)

Once he confirmed that the suspicious target was indeed planning on hiding in the bleachers of the massive amphitheatre, he shot up a web to hoist himself into the infrastructure from the tall stadium lights. From there, he positioned himself a bit closer to the fray, hearing the loud and heavy boots of the gang following the runner, not far behind.

Then, he squinted into the dusk as he watched one of the entrances from his perch up high... and almost choked on his own saliva!

In comes none other than Hobie Motherfucking Jones, streaking down several steps like a shooting star, clutching onto… something tucked under one of his arms. He was breathless, panting loudly, and heading straight for the Belvedere Lake.

Upon hearing the heavy bootfalls get ever closer with every passing second, it seemed that Hobie got the idea to attempt a last-minute juke by throwing himself underneath the stairs that faced the lake, tucking himself as tightly as he could under the massive stage at the center.

Spiderman watched all of this happening with wide eyes, holding his own breath in. He prayed that the ugly thugs didn’t see Hobie’s sneaky last-second move, but climbed up high onto the stadium lights and prepared to swing down anyhow, just in case.

What was Hobie even doing here, out at this hour? And what the hell did he manage to steal that was so important to these men anyways? It was quite a chase they were caught up in, running nearly two entire miles all the way up to the amphitheatre just to catch him, and that was only from what he could see when he swung into action.

The group split up and pulled out flashlights, determinedly searching the bleachers and corners as best they could while the sky rapidly darkened above them.

From right below the webbed crime-fighter, Hobie poked his head out from the shadows and took a peek.

No, no, duck back down! Spiderman wanted to shout, but he couldn’t.

No one knew he had followed them and he was safe high above the action where he balanced himself on the metal bars that housed the bulbs. His muscles tensed as the bright beam of light from one guy’s flashlight swept a little too close to Hobie’s head. Damnit.

Spiderman couldn’t just sit there all day! He had a friend to save, stolen item be damned!

He rechecked his web shooters furtively and took aim.

He set his sights on another stadium light pole across from the stage, figuring that if he was quick and agile enough, he could time his swing well enough to scoop Hobie up from where he was hidden and avoid any detection. Hopefully.

Seemed like a solid enough plan though, until Hobie just. Shot out from his hiding place all of a sudden, the heels of his boots rapping loudly against the cement and echoing all around the stage as he made a beeline for the lakefront.

Shit!!!

Miles wanted to kill him. Those guys didn’t even suspect he was hiding where we was in the first place!

... Okay, plan B!

Spiderman’s brain whirred at breakneck speeds as he watched the thugs exclaim loudly and give chase yet again, this time much closer to Hobie than they ever were before.

Without thinking, he swung down from his perch and bowled over a couple of men in his haste to simply just… grab Hobie like a damsel in distress and fireman-carry him back around the gang to get a good line of web onto a nearby pole.

The men all cursed and shouted in surprise of course, flashlight beams waving around everywhere.

One of them even yelled, “what the hell was that?!” like a character in one of his dad’s favorite cheesy slasher movies.

Spiderman was too fast for them, a black blur simply whizzing by as he grabbed Hobie and hoisted the both of them up into the air with a mighty leap. Hobie yelped in surprise, grunting from the effort, and seemed to let whatever he stole slip out of his hands which then clattered loudly onto the ground below.

The thugs rejoiced then, shaking fists at Hobie and his rescuer as they flew up to the top of a tree and detached themselves so they could fall onto the stadium light opposite from Spiderman’s initial hiding spot.

Spiderman didn’t stop until he attached another web up to the lights and dangled there for a bit. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he shifted Hobie off of his shoulders and let him slide slowly onto his side, his friend’s wiry arms clutching him tightly.

They both watched with rapt attention at the goings-on several feet below them.

The thugs congregated around the fallen item, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It looked like a briefcase, though with the low lighting it really could’ve been anything. It was only when one of them-- the biggest and burliest of them all-- shouted out another colorful swear word that Hobie then seemed to come back to himself again.

He squeezed Spiderman’s shoulders with his arms and kicked at him. They swung a bit from the wiggling.

“Ouch!” Spiderman hissed, as quietly as he could. He was hoping the dark dusk would conceal their position now as long as they made No Noises, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

“Go, go, go, go, man! Let’s get out of here!!” Hobie hissed right back into his ear, his face mere centimeters away from Spiderman’s mask.

Spiderman stubbornly ignored the heat radiating out from his face at that realization and jerked this way and that, looking for an easy escape from their conundrum.

Flashlight beams danced around the ground before finally swinging up to the trees and catching sight of a pair of shoes dangling in the sky.

The biggest and meanest one of the bunch pulled something out of his pocket and took aim.

Bullet! Spiderman’s senses screamed into his cerebellum.

“Goddamn,” he huffed ruefully as the shots rang out. Hobie panicked. “Bullets for us? That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Hobie clung onto his hero for dear life. “Brother, if you do not get a move on from here, we are both gonna get turned into fish filets!” He shouted into Spiderman’s ear.

“Ow. Okay,” Spiderman grumbled, sticking himself to the side of the pole they dangled from and readjusting Hobie so that he clung onto his back instead.

He took a deep breath and narrowly dodged a bullet that whizzed unnervingly close to their heads. Hobie yelled again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Spiderman began, speaking quickly. “Hold on, okay? Hold on tight. Just hold on and do not let me go for even a second!”

“On it!” Hobie shouted back, legs kicking a bit before wrapping themselves tightly around Spiderman’s torso.

They both took a breath and then Spiderman jumped, gaining some air before twin webs erupted from his web shooters-- aimed directly towards the seating area entrance.

Together, he and Hobie rocketed from their airborne position towards their escape route once the fluids connected to solid architecture. To his credit, Hobie only whimpered a little bit through the ride.

The thugs had no chance! They stumbled on tired, aching legs towards the very door the two teens had left out of, complaining and cursing some more as they searched through the steps and made their way out onto the theatre’s general admission and concessions area.

They searched and searched through the bushes and trees, going so far as to even check the sculptures near the structure.

After several tense moments of gruff shouting back-and-forth, the search eventually died down until only a couple of the men were left sweeping the area once more. The others had already given up their fruitless endeavor and called it a night.

“Fucking kids, man. What the hell,” Spiderman heard one of them grumble before kicking at the Romeo and Juliet statue angrily and following the rest of his cohorts down the path towards the Great Lawn again.

Hobie and Spiderman let out matching sighs of relief then, happy to have given the men the slip by managing to hide behind the giant 3D Delacorte Theatre sign right above the box offices. Lucky for them, most people don’t think to search behind lit-up signs, so they went completely undetected.

“… Wanna let me know what you were doing here this whole time? You could’ve gotten killed!” Spiderman breathed. He wanted his tone to be sharper, more authoritative… but he was just so glad to see his new friend still in one piece instead of riddled with more holes than a chunk of swiss cheese!

Hobie scoffed, tucking a loc behind his ear and sitting back. Thanks to the lighting of the sign and the other park lights in the area, Spiderman could see him digging around in his coat pocket and fishing out-- a USB drive?

Hobie held it up triumphantly, sleepy down-turned eyes glistening with pride.

“I got it! Suckers! Screw them by the way, I’m not the thief, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

Well. He was sneaky, alright. Spiderman had to hand that to him, at the very least.

He sat back on his heels as well and exhaled. “Fine. I believe you. What’s on that drive?”

Hobie squinted at him then, really giving him a good once-over now that the excitement had officially died down. “…Damn. You’re Spiderman,”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, hi, nice to meet you, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sp-- ugh, seriously man, just tell me what all of that was back there or else I’m webbing you up and calling the cops.”

“Hey!” Hobie objected. “Like I said already, I’m the good guy here. I snagged this from those guys because I caught them snoopin’ around the museum over that way. I followed them and found out they were stealing this!”

Spiderman bobbed his head. “Okay? And what’s on it?”

Hobie turned the drive over a bit in his hands, admiring it. “Most likely? Security codes, schedules, maps. I’ve been uh… investigating those dudes for a while after watching them sniff around the museum for a few days now. It looks like they were just art thieves plannin' a heist, so I jumped on the opportunity to deliver justice myself.”

Hobie’s mischievous grin was met by Spiderman’s disapproving stare.

“And why didn’t you just call security and let them know? Like I said, super dangerous thing you did back there! If I wasn’t there to save you, you could’ve died, man.”

Hobie pocketed his USB drive again and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, for a vigilante hero with cool superpowers, you sure are a square.”

Spiderman sat up and placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Oof, ow. That’s mean,”

“Yeah, it is, but you know I’m right. If a kid like me walked up to some cops and tried to warn them of a possible art heist, you just know those pricks’ll laugh in my face and do literally nothing about it. I had to take matters into my own hands!” Hobie jutted his chin out defiantly.

Well. Couldn't really argue with that, especially considering PDNY’s less-than-stellar track record of taking preventative measures most times. All that they would most likely do is nod along to whatever Hobie was telling them and chuckle, shaking their heads as they walk away. Not their problem.

Spiderman rubbed his chin. “Point taken," he conceded. "So what’s your plan now?”

Hobie glanced around, as if he was checking for any eavesdroppers. “I’m gonna submit some photos to a journalist I met online before turning this in back to the museum. The journalist’ll help get those guys behind bars once a story's published and some actual adults talk to the cops. I am going to go collect my reward,”

Spiderman blinked. He had a bunch of questions swimming in his head, but the first question out of his mouth was, “what reward?”

“The reward for turning in precious security info, genius!” Hobie tapped at his forehead with a finger and grinned. “If I get to negotiate with them, I can get some money to save up and-- uh. Nevermind. Listen, are you gonna rat me out or not?”

Miles’ brow creased behind his mask. “… I don’t think I will. Sounds like you’re doing the right thing… mostly.”

Hobie cheered silently. “Yes! Okay, I take it back, Spidey. You are cool!”

Spiderman sighed. “But first, I need to know you’re gonna be safe. Like, actually, and that you’re not gonna get followed home.”

Hobie shrugged nonchalantly and pushed more locs out of his face again. “Yeah, you can walk me home if you want,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that’s not the only thing I mean. I need you to promise me that you’re not gonna get into stupid stunts like this again. That was so dangerous and you really could’ve gotten hurt!”

Hobie exhaled as well. He stared intensely into the mask’s giant white lenses for a beat, making Spiderman shift uncomfortably.

Then, he held up his pinkie. “… Fine. I won’t do stupid shit like this again. I promise.”

Spiderman blinked a few more times and hooked his pinkie onto Hobie’s. “Uh. Okay, cool! Cool, that’s what I wanna hear, considering keeping New Yorkers safe is my job! I just wanna see you safe, that’s all. No more art heists, you gotta leave that to the professionals to handle,”

“What, professionals like you? You might’ve not even gotten to them in time before they snuck off with like millions of dollars worth of art, bro.”

“Anyone ever tell you you are just so mean? Dontcha have a little faith in me? The ‘vigilante hero with cool superpowers’?” Spiderman shot back.

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though. I do appreciate the fact that you saved my ass back there,” Hobie admitted, eyes cast downwards for a second. “I was actually gonna throw this thing into the lake and hope this drive got eaten by like… a fish or something.”

“And what about you?” Spiderman smiled despite himself.

“Well,” Hobie shrugged. “If I died, I died. I guess,”

It was Spiderman’s turn to scoff now. “You have a family, man. Don’t be ridiculous. You have friends and family that would miss you!”

Hobie’s expression turned dark, his entire face shadowing for a second before being replaced by cool detached nonchalance. A slight hint of annoyance stayed put underneath.

“… My family’s barely my family. I don’t have any friends, either. Don't worry about me.” Hobie admitted in a clipped tone. He stood up abruptly and started doing some casual stretches.

Spiderman stood up as well, knowing fully well how this song and dance was going to go.

He would never admit it out loud, but he’d seen his fair share of self-destructive citizens throwing themselves into the middle of danger in the short time he’d been doing this whole vigilante thing. He had talked many a melancholy or manic person from tossing themselves off of multiple different buildings, different bridges, stopped them from “falling” onto train tracks.

And as loath as he is to admit it, this Hobie’s particular brand of cool detachment was entirely too familiar to him as well.

A flash of his uncle Aaron’s face lit up a part of his brain that he hadn’t really allowed himself to acknowledge since that fateful day. He quickly stamped that out.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. “… Well. That sounds pretty depressing, man.”

He didn’t notice Hobie’s shoulders hitch at that phrase.

“But,” Spiderman continued, “You got people out here who care about you, even if you don’t know it. You’re still so young, you could be ending your life before you even meet, like, your favoritest person in the whole world, right? So just do me a quick favor, take care of yourself. For me. Live long enough to meet your favorite person, alright?”

Spiderman put on his best comforting expression that he could despite the mask most likely getting in the way of Hobie fully seeing it. He hoped his words were enough to convince him not to dive off the deep end, at least not anytime soon.

It seemed to work at least a little bit, because Hobie looked back at him with a much warmer-- albeit hesitant-- expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Hobie finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, sure.” Spiderman replied.

“Do you know about a kid named Miles Morales at all?”

The air was sucked out of Spiderman’s lungs right then as he floundered like a fish for a minute, brain working into overdrive to make his answer sound both intelligent and convincing.

“U-uh, maaaybeee? I dunno, I meet a lot of New Yorkers everyday and I don’t get many names, yanno? S-sounds familiar, but sorr--”

“I knew it,” Hobie exhaled a laugh and surged forward to embrace Spiderman with both arms.

Spiderman stood frozen in his place, arms held in mid-air as he worked to process this.

“Uh. What--”

Spiderman felt Hobie’s chin dig into the side of his cheek a little as he turned his lips to his ear. “Your secret’s safe with me, by the way. I’m not telling anyone,”

Miles felt his whole world turn on its axis before shattering completely.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! Goddamnit!

Miles pushed Hobie off and stepped back, holding his hands up. “Oh hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. I dunno what you’re thinking or who you think I am, but--!”

Hobie sighed loudly. “Miles, I saw your suit.”

The world screeched to a halt.

Hobie picked his gaze back up off of his feet and even seemed apologetic, almost. “I, uhm. Like, back on the roof. At Visions. I wasn’t… a hundred percent sure I saw it, since it could’ve been any logo at all, but. Well, you’re a pretty bad liar too, y’know that, right?”

Miles sucked in a slightly shaky breath, gulping loudly. “Uh. W-well,”

Hobie smiled shyly. “You, uh… you’re like around the same height as Miles Morales, anyways. And you sure sound a lot like him, too.”

Damn. Damn it all.

Miles spun this way and that, placing his hands atop his head as he panicked slightly. “H-Hobie, you cannot tell anyone else about this, whatsoever. Do you understand? No one. At all. Or we’re both dead!”

Hobie held his hands up, lines creasing in his face. “Look bro, you’ve got secrets of mine too. We pinkie promised, remember? I don’t break promises.”

Miles didn’t point out that the promise was so that Hobie would stop getting himself into stupidly dangerous situations, but he accepted it anyways, albeit reluctantly.

“D-do… do you actually, like actually promise me you’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone? Ever? At all?”

Hobie held up his right hand into the air, as if taking an oath. “I, MJ, solemnly swear to never breathe a single word to anyone about your super secret identity, so help me god.”

Miles planted his fists on his hip and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he exhales on a shaky laugh.

“Don’t you believe me? What would I have to gain by selling you out? Oh,” Hobie stops suddenly, perking up. “We could even work together! I got me my sweet camera and my extensive connects, man. Think about it!”

“No, no. Hobie. Stop that, man. I’m not putting you into any danger after I just saved your skinny butt. Spiderman doesn’t do sidekicks anyways,”

Hobie looked a bit put out, but shrugged anyways. “Well, I mean… think about it sometime. We could seriously take down criminal activity around here, if you’re down! And, uh. You do have my number,”

Miles looked up and took a deep breath. “Mmnyes, I do. I do have your number. That’s… I mean you’re not wrong about that. Listen, I think it’s getting pretty late and we should both be heading back home now, though.”

The corners of Hobie’s mouth curled up mischievously. “True, true. It is a school night, after all.”

Miles couldn’t stop grinning despite the heavy anvil that threatened to burst out of his chest. “Yep, yes it is! Okay, time to get you home now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Miles moved to step into Hobie’s space and carry him on his back again so he could lower the both of them down from the lip of the theatre roof.

But before that happened, he felt Hobie place a cold but strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Miles looked up inquisitively and felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt those same hands slowly slide up the smooth spandex of his suit, up his shoulders, and then they stopped at his neck, at the seam of where his suit and mask met.

The entire thing probably only took a few seconds to do, but to Miles it felt like eons passed as he felt every single muscle twitch and the pulse beating underneath Hobie’s skin while he ran those fingers up his arms.

He was standing so close to him! Oh god!

The entire ordeal was unbearably intimate, and Miles could barely stop the shudder that wracked his body suddenly.

Hobie’s soft lips were slightly parted, the lighting of the sign next to them caught in the dark brown portals that were his eyes.

“U-uhm. Sorry, this is weird...” he mumbled quietly. But his hands didn't move.

All around them, crickets started their soothing chorus.

Here they were, right behind the giant lettering of the Delacorte Theatre, intertwined in each other’s arms on a cold night-- and Miles’ core body temperature has never felt hotter before. He felt like he could melt steel, the way this night was going. He didn’t know when his hands raised to grasp onto Hobie’s arms, but they must’ve done it of their own accord because Miles then felt himself squeezing softly onto Hobie’s biceps.

Slowly, painstakingly, and carefully… Hobie made his move.

Every centimeter of the mask being pushed up was accompanied by a soft look that asked-- no, it begged-- for permission to continue. His hands seemed to move on their own eventually, as he slid the mask up over the back of Miles' head and then eased it up off of his nose.

Hobie wore a soft look of determination then, that fully came into view again once Miles felt his mask slide right up off of his eyes. Hobie’s soft hands eventually fell away, mask in one hand, no sounds in the air except for the wildlife of the park starting to wake now that the night has officially fallen.

Miles wasn’t sure why he did, but he held his breath.

After a few seconds of appraising gazes from each other, pupils meeting pupils, exchanging a million words a second with just a few looks… Hobie grinned beautifully.

“Damn. There you are,”

Miles felt a plume of heat erupt from his gut and rush up to his face. “Uh. Hm, y-yep. Here I am,” he blinked back at Hobie with his big brown eyes.

Hobie had a look of pure joy on his face before it started to melt away suddenly. “You know… I should backstab you for abandoning me out of nowhere that one time, though… I really should...”

The moment collapsed like an undone web, a delicate thing now completely destroyed as Miles leaped up in indignation.

“Hobie!”

Hobie stepped back and laughed loudly. “Re-lax! I’m not gonna actually do it. But. Y’know.”

“And if you do, I’ll leave you webbed up to that billboard near Visions,” Miles threatened, mostly light-heartedly.

“Psshh, and then get my mom’s two million lawyers on your ass? Good luck,”

“As if they could ever catch me! I’m Spiderman!”

Just as easily as they had stepped out of being just kids for a moment, they stepped right back into it, bickering like they'd been friends since forever.

Miles lowered the both of them from the sign and they headed towards the eastern side of the park, making their way over to Hunter’s Gate. They bickered and bantered back and forth the entire way there, and it was only once they made it to the outer gates of the park that Miles stopped them both.

With his mask back on and other New Yorkers now milling nearby, Miles made it a point to lower his voice as he turned to Hobie and puffed his chest out heroically.

“So, random citizen. Where are we off to today? I told you I’d take you back home safely, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“’Cause you promised, right?” Hobie smirked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

“Uhm. Yeah, yeah. I did. So, lead the way!” Spiderman made a grand ushering gesture, and Hobie chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped aside and exited Central Park.

“You gonna walk me home, Spiderman?” Hobie threw him a side-long glance.

“Yyyeah…? Why? You’d rather swing home?”

“I liked swinging, actually. Yeah,” Hobie stopped where he was on the sidewalk and nodded with an air of finality. “Yeah… let’s swing!”

Spiderman felt his heart do a few somersaults in his chest before he gestured towards his shoulders. Hobie quickly assumed the position, long lanky arms wrapping around him and leaning his body weight against Spiderman’s side.

Spiderman shot up a web to a nearby street lamp and gave his friend one more glance.

“You sure?” He asked again, really making sure that Hobie was okay with this. Not many people really liked swinging, which was understandable. Even Miles wasn't the biggest fan of it at times.

Hobie chuckled and ignored the onlookers as they slowly ambled past the two, throwing the teens questioning glances as they made their way past them.

“Yeah, I am! Let’s go,”

Miles: Do you actually actually really like on your LIFE promise that you’re not ginna tell a soul about… well…

Miles: gonna*

MJ: Yes, Miles. I PROMISE [eyeroll emoji]

Miles: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

MJ: Do you actually, though? ;)

Miles: No. But I can find out… I got connects

MJ: Uh huh. I’ll tell your “connects” that if you don’t take me out on that promised lunch date, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman just might be the next trending topic on ALL social media apps again very soon……..

Miles: Oh my god. You are Evil. I can’t believe this. My next arch nemesis… damn

Miles: What a killer plot twist. The greatest foe I have yet to face happens to be none other than one of my very own classmates

Miles: It be ya own people

From his family’s Lower Manhattan penthouse, Hobie laughs out loud as he reads the text messages, ignoring all of the curious glances thrown his way by various members of his team.

From Miles’ own humble dorm room at Visions, he laughs aloud as well.

#spiderverse #mine #miles morales #hobie brown #<- well i mean not really but yall know what i mean #hope u guys enjoyed this lil installment! <3 #i tried to make the action as entertaining as possible but y'all must know.... that it really is my weak spot so if you guys read all that #and went 'huh'#well then.... Understandable Have A Nice Day!#but listen mj is more often than not a total bamf in the comics and so to make 1610's mj not nearly as cool #esp when this is HOBIE we're talkin abt here... that would be criminal. so i did what i had to do #and i'm trying to like uuhhhh not do an Exposition Dump on hobie jones' character all at once #just sorta drip feeding y'all his backstory before we Get Into It ya feel me #also @ everyone leaving nice comments so far. I LOV YOU :) <3 #thank u!#sorry abt the messy ass art on this chapter. i rushed it as i'm sure y'all can tell #they also dont match up 1:1 on the story bc i did the sketches initially before i wrote all this #just as concept art before sitting down to write so i meannnn! but! they came out p close to the finished product #so i was like 'ok close enough lets just ink it and be done'#hope yall still like them anyhow LOL oops #anyways..... i gotta quit my yappin'#see yall on the next one <3 #punkflower #← almost forgot to tag oof

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peachcitt · 9 months

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merry christmas @burntwaffle12‼️‼️ this beast is just for you for the @mlsecretsanta gift exchange<3<3

you can read the first chapter of your gift here

happy holidays and i will be back so soon with more<3<3

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fic #adrien agreste #adrinette #UH. HI NICE TO MEET YOU IM AN INSANE PERSON . PLEASE BEAR WITH ME WHILE I FINISH YOUR GIFT THROUGH NEXT YEAR<3 #i really wanted to try and finish it before the posting period ended (hence me posting on the literal last day) but of course that did not #happen! because more time thinking about the story meant i was thinking more about the plot which means there is one which means #for some reason i can’t write a scene shorter than five pages for it. so you know #ive got a good portion of the next chapter/scene written and i expect for their to be five in total #IT’LL BE SO FINE. IT’LL BE SO GOOD. LOOK ME INNMY EYES. TRUST ME. I LOVE YOU. WE’LL GET THROUGH IT TOGETHER #and with that i’ll likely be radio silent until next year (haha) ! love y’all lots i hope to be even more insane and online next year<3

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fiveredlights · 5 months

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a cute little snippet from please don't ever become a stranger i thought was very funny and could not keep to myself because i chuckle every time i read it:

“Well, Charles was right.” Alex pats him on the arm and stands up from the couch in Max’s driver room. “You two are weird about each other,” he says, laughing as he walks out of the room and Max flips him off before realising he can’t see it.

They aren’t weird about each other.

They aren’t.

—

The guest room is abandoned after three days.

#have a treat in these trying times #i double checked for spiders before i started writing i am NOT dealing with a spider on my head again #hopefully i finish this chapter today or tomorrow otherwise it's next month because of uni (booooooooo)#please don't ever become a stranger #glitter on the floor verse #maxiel #five writes #max: we are so normal around each other #max (a couple days later): i now sleep in daniel's bed for no real reason

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chestcongestion · 4 months

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Losing Your Grippe- Ch.2: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Chapter two, here we go. Had a lot of fun and I plan on pacing myself with these chapters so no single chapter is too huge, meaning this will probably end up being a bit longer than D-to-D was.

Word Count: 4,233

Content Warnings: Contagion

Husk ended up falling asleep in the middle of his liquor inventory, not even having the opportunity to leave the bar and head to bed, instead opting to curl up on the floor behind the bar counter- something he had never done sober until that night.

While sprawled out on the floor, snoring occasionally, Husk’s sinuses grew irritated and swollen, a trickle of watery mucus running from his adorable feline nose and forcing him to breathe through his mouth, his tail unconsciously waving back and forth as he slept.

Still unconscious, Husk took a sharp inhale and coughed, his sleeping face shifting to an irritated frown as the tickle in his throat moved downward into his lungs. Husk took a second, much shakier inhale, and coughed again, and again, and again.

Husk slept until around sunrise, occasionally bursting into short coughing fits as his nose continued to run, his joints and muscles became plagued by a dull aching, and the skin under his fur grew hot. Husk’s deep slumber was only broken when a hard object hit him in the back of the head, forcing him to pry his eyes open and stare blearily at the figure above him.

Unable to make out the shapes due to being half-asleep, Husk didn’t even notice that he was sprawled out on the floor at Alastor’s feet, who heard Husk’s coughing while he was in the kitchen preparing his morning coffee, and hoped that hitting Husk in the head with his microphone would shut him up.

“Mmm? Who ‘s it?” Husk croaked, his already deep and heavy voice sounding gravely from his constant coughing throughout the night, “Mm… ‘m tryn’a sleep.”

“Not feeling well?” Alastor asked teasingly as he poked Husk’s cheek with his microphone, refusing to touch Husk with his bare hands.

“No… not really- SnRRKK!... KHFF-khff!- Mmm,” Husk complained drowsily, holding his chest to soothe the aching in his ribcage that he felt when he coughed.

Alastor stuck out his tongue, thoroughly disgusted by his ward and opting to deal with the situation in a way that put him at the least risk possible. Thinking quickly, Alastor grabbed Husk’s tail and dragged him along the floor through the hotel lobby before tossing him into the linen closet and barricading the door shut with a piece of wood that he placed under the doorknob.

Finally truly awake, Husk looked around him and panicked, realizing that he was trapped in a small windowless room full of towels, toiletries, and Niffty’s cleaning supplies.

“Alastor you son of a bitch, I know you’re out there, open the door- kHFF-KHFF!- fuck!” Husk exclaimed, aggressively wiggling the doorknob and banging on the door as hard as he possibly could with his fists.

“Hmmm… I’d rather not, it’s far safer for me if you’re nice and isolated instead of filling the air with your-” Alastor shuddered, suppressing the urge to gag, “Exhalations.”

“Alastor I am not in the mood to play with you- Snrkk! SnRkK!- Euch! Lemme out!” Husk said, his tone demanding as he struggled to get his bearings.

“I warned you that this would happen, you didn’t listen, and now you’re paying the price for it,” Alastor said, his tone matter-of-fact as he poked Husk with the pointy end of his microphone staff through the crack under the door.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!- Khff! KHFFF!” Husk asked, indignant as he continued to jostle the doorknob, struggling to get a quality breath of air in the confined space of the linen closet, especially with his slightly stuffy nose.

“I’m in no mood to be exposed to your pathogens, Husker, so for my sake I’ve elected to secure you somewhere so I can guarantee your mitts won’t be touching everything,” Alastor replied.

“Y’know what you motherfucker? My ndose is runnin’ like a faucet down mby face- snrrk! SnRKk!- my throat hurts, and mby entire body is tired and hurtin’ worse than anythin’ I can remember, including you torturin’ me for kicks when you’re bored!” Husk said, his raspy voice adding to the seriousness of his bitter grumbling, “I am not putin’ up with your bullshit today- KHhHFF khff KHFF!- when I get outta here I’m gonna sneeze in your fuckin’ face! Lemme out!”

Alastor rolled his eyes, “I don’t think so,” he said, casually inspecting his fingernails and leaning against the linen closet’s door.

“KHFFF-Khfff!” Husk’s coughing was audibly coming from deep in his chest, in spite of it being unproductive and dry. Each hack sounded like it hurt worse than the last one, and Husk’s ragged gasp for air once he was done coughing only made them sound worse. “Alastor… I will break this door down, let mbe out!” Husk threatened, pacing in a tight circle as he attempted to muster up what little strength he had left.

“Oh please, even at your best you’re no match for me, and now you’re weak as a kitten,” Alastor said, chuckling to himself, “This door isn’t budging and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Husk got as far away from the door as he could before throwing himself at it, causing the wood of the door to warp from the impact and the wooden plank under the doorknob to crack from the pressure. Alastor, who had been leaning against the door during his taunts, was knocked off of his feet, sliding across the hallway after the initial impact.

“Hmph! Well that was a bit dramatic, but I suppose I underestimated you, the amount of power your size commands appears to make up for your lack of energy,” Alastor scoffed.

Husk threw himself against the door again, collapsing against the shelves after his escape attempt still yielded no results, “Lemme out- khff khff-KHFF!,” he begged, staring at the linen closet door with bleary eyes as pain radiated through his body.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had my fun,” Alastor sighed, “I’ll release you on one condition: you have to promise that you won’t leave the closet until I’m out of the room.”

“I’m not promisin’ you shit!” Husk yelled, hurriedly jostling the doorknob again and attempting to force it open, only to be slapped with the reality of his predicament when his struggle- once again- proved to be fruitless.

“Do we have a deal?” Alastor asked, smiling from the other side of the door as he heard Husk’s defeated whine.

“Okay,” Husk replied, his voice noticeably weaker and more docile as he slumped against the shelves and tried to ignore the aching in his back, “I’ll wait, I promise… just lemme out…”

Alastor hurriedly kicked away the plank of wood holding back the doorknob and swung the linen closet door open before rushing many paces away, holding his breath. When the linen closet opened, Husk took a few steps until he was out of the doorway, before succumbing to his exhaustion and quietly collapsing to the floor, resting his head on his arms.

“Husker… the point of ‘waiting to leave until I left the room’ did still carry the expectation that you leave,” Alastor complained, approaching Husk’s reclined form with cautious steps, poking him with his microphone and feeling a twinge of concern when the jabbing did not produce a reaction.

“Mmm… Khfff-KHFFF! Koff- KHFFF!,” Husk whimpered in between his violent cough, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“This is ridiculous… Husker get up, you’re just being silly,” Alastor whispered, nudging Husk’s face with his microphone again, ruffling his eyebrows with indignation, “Husk!”

“Can’t get up… m’ whole body hurts- Khhff- khfff!- just leave me here, I’ll get up eventually,” Husk mumbled, shivering slightly as his face flushed a pinkish red and his nose dribbled slightly, triggering a damp sniffle that only exacerbated the pain behind Husk’s eyes.

Alastor scoffed, washing his hands of the matter and walking away, grumbling to himself about Husk’s refusal to humor him.

Once Alastor left, Vaggie- freshly awake and heading downstairs to make herself some coffee and something halfway close to breakfast- entered the hallway, stopping in front of the linen closet upon seeing Husk’s body.

“Husk?”

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing on the floor… halfway in the linen closet?”

“Alastor… shoved me in… SnFf-SnFF!... ‘m over it, can’t get up,”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Husk shook his head, his nose twitching desperately before he unleashed a wet and spraying, “HrRR’SCCHOO! HhrRR’SsCHUHH!” into the air.

“Ohhhh,” Vaggie snickered, kneeling down and pressing a hand against Husk’s forehead, “You’ve got the flu.”

Husk nodded weakly, coughing into his fist.

“If I help you, d’you think you’ll be able to stand up so I can get you to bed?” Vaggie asked.

Husk nodded, grimacing in pain when Vaggie grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet, steadying him by wrapping an arm around his waist, “Don’t think… I’ll be able to make it upstairs to get in bed,” he croaked, still shivering.

“Hmm… I’ve got an idea,” Vaggie said, carefully walking Husk into the parlor and propping him up against the back of the sofa while she set to work, moving cushions and draping them with blankets and pillows until the large sofa in the parlor looked more like a comfortable pull-out bed with two levels, one on the actual sofa and another on the floor in front of it, “There we go.”

Husk blinked slowly, focusing on remaining conscious and upright, when Vaggie gently tapped his cheek to make him focus, “Hm- hmm?” he hummed, his vision growing fuzzy.

“Where do you keep your pajamas?” Vaggie asked, resting both hands on her hips.

“Mm… HhRr’SSCHUUH… hNK’TSSHUHH!- snFF!- Mm.. in my nightstand drawer,” Husk mumbled, dragging the back of his wrist under his nose before wiggling it to stave off the persistent itch.

“I’ll be right back, try not to fall over and die, please,” Vaggie sighed, hurrying upstairs while Husk swayed back and forth on his feet, steadying himself with the back of the sofa and shivering like an anxious chihuahua, his teeth chattering.

While Husk waited for Vaggie to return, he was suddenly startled by Niffty and Angel, who walked into the parlor from upstairs- Niffty still in her nightgown and Angel dressed and ready for work.

“There you are, was wonderin’ where you were when I didn’t see you head to bed last night,” Angel said, “Fell asleep at the bar?”

Husk nodded, massaging his eyes with the heels of his palms in an attempt to combat his throbbing headache.

“You hungover?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Husk shook his head, wobbling a bit on his feet, “ ‘m sick,” he mumbled, twitching one of his ears and trying to stave off another irritating dry cough.

“I knew it!” Niffty giggled, climbing up Husk’s back and clinging to his shoulder as she massaged his glands with her tiny fingers, “I knew your snoring sounded stuffy!”

“Quit starin’ at mbe while I sleep- Khff! Khff!- I don’t trust you,” Husk said, narrowing his eyelids.

“Awwww, that’s no fun, you’re so cute when you sleep, sometimes you paw at the air like a little kitten!” Niffty said jovially, poking Husk’s nose and massaging his cheeks, giggling when Husk weakly tried to swat at her.

“Niffty, leave Husk alone, he’s contagious and he’s not in the mood to put up with your shit, get off of him,” Vaggie ordered, appearing at the bottom of the stairs with Husk’s pajamas folded over one arm and a drowsy Charlie clinging to her in the other.

Husk pulled on his striped pajama bottoms and removed his bow tie before fumbling with his hands in an attempt to fold his slacks and suspenders.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, taking the pants from him and guiding him to the lower level of the makeshift sofa-bed, helping him sit down and get comfortable against the cushions and sheets, “Don’t worry about it, for fuck’s sake, you’re sick as a dog, I will fold your pants for you,” she instructed, setting Charlie down on the upper level of the sofa-bed and quickly folding Husk’s pants.

“Husk I’mb so sorry I got you sick- Hh-KHFF KHHFFF!” Charlie apologized, taking a shaky gasp of air before tucking her face away into both hands, “khff- khff khff! KOFF-Khfff khfff!”

“No hard feelings, kid- snff!- it was gonna happen eventually anyway,” Husk said in reply, his words melting together a bit as he tried to remain coherent while exhaustion tugged at him, “Feelin’ any better?”

Charlie shook her head, “Everything hurts so mbuch- SnRKK!- Owwww,” she whined, massaging her temples, “I can’t- kHFF khff!- stop- KHhhff!- coughing, either.”

Husk hummed as a solemn reply, his eyelids threatening to close before Vaggie smacked his left cheek until they snapped back open, making Husk groan, turning away from Vaggie’s hands only for her to grip his cheeks with three fingers and turn him back around to face her.

“Poor baby,” Angel crooned, gently scratching behind Husk’s ears, “I’ll bring ya’ somethin’ when I get home later, I gotta get to work.”

Husk weakly waved Angel goodbye, a soft smile on his face in spite of Vaggie’s slender fingers still holding his jaw.

“I gotta get back to cleaning! Husk’s germs are all over the bar and all over my stuff in the linen closet!” Niffty said, rushing out of the parlor to grab a bottle of disinfectant and a rag.

Vaggie let go of Husk’s cheeks, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand while he was distracted, “And I have to check your temperature,” she said, “Open your mouth.”

Husk obliged, letting Vaggie slide the thermometer under his tongue and waiting patiently, trying his hardest not to shiver until the thermometer beeped.

“103.5,” Vaggie read, cleaning off the thermometer and setting it down on the table next to the sofa, “Either of you need anything to get more comfortable?”

“Could I have another glass of apple juice, please?” Charlie asked weakly, her teeth chattering slightly from the onslaught of febrile chills that wracked her body.

“Of course,” Vaggie replied, kissing Charlie’s forehead, “Think you could also manage a cookie? You need something in your stomach.”

Charlie winced, thinking of swallowing the harshly textured cookie and feeling a phantom scraping sensation against her already-raw throat, before shaking her head.

Vaggie smiled, but rolled her eyes, “Alright, I’ll think of something else,” she said, gently smoothing out a piece of Charlie’s hair before leaving the room and coming back with a glass of chilled apple juice and a plastic cup of butterscotch pudding, “will this work?”

Charlie nodded eagerly, accepting the pudding cup and accompanying spoon and slowly eating small spoonfuls, “Thanks, Vaggiee-E-Eh’KSssSHEW! E-eih’kSschhew!” she said, quietly wiping her nose with a folded-over tissue from her pocket.

“No problem,” Vaggie replied, turning to face Husk, “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Husk blinked slowly, huffing and brushing her off, “I’m fine,” he said with a firm tone, scrubbing at his nose with a finger, “Hh! HRrr’SHOO! HrRR’SsCHUHH!”

“Husk, I promise no one’s trying to coddle you, I get it, you’re strong enough to handle this by yourself, good for you,” Vaggie explained, gently grabbing Husk’s shoulders, fighting the urge to shake him, “But work with me man, you are very sick and you’re only going to get sicker, pick one thing that would make you more comfortable that I can do before I go upstairs.”

Husk’s previously skeptical expression softened, his narrowed eyelids relaxing as exhaustion washed over him. He shivered, rubbing his upper arms with his palms and shakily breathing through his chattering teeth.

“HRrR’SCHHUHH! HrR’SsSHOO!- snFF!- maybe just a blanket?” Husk asked, his low voice sounding pitifully vulnerable as he vibrated with febrile chills, “I’m freezing….hH! H-huhh…HnK’TsSHOO!- KHFF khfff!”

“Definitely, I’ll be right back,” Vaggie promised, wandering out of the parlor and coming back with a fleece throw blanket which she draped around Husk’s shoulders and inspected to ensure that it covered as much of his shivering form as possible.

“Th-thank you- snFF!- feels mbuch better….SnFF!,” Husk replied, nestling into the comfort of his blanket with a sigh of relief, still shuddering slightly from his fever.

“Good, I’m glad, I have to go upstairs and make some phone calls, but you guys rest up okay? Let me know if you need anything,” Vaggie said, planting a kiss on Charlie’s feverish cheek and scratching Husk behind his left ear before leaving the room.

“Husk?” Charlie croaked from her position on the sofa bed.

“Mhm?” Husk replied.

“I’b so tired, but everythi’g hurts too mbuch for mbe to sleep,”

“I know-” Husk paused to yawn, in spite of the act irritating his sore throat, “Mmhh… y’wanna watch TV?”

“Mbaybe- SnFF! Snff! E-Eihh’KkTsShhiEW! Eihh’KSHHEW!- yeah,” Charlie said, grasping around for the remote to the slightly-larger cathode ray television that sat in the parlor after a bit of negotiating with Alastor about a larger screen being better for the eyes than squinting at the old one.

Flicking through channels, Charlie eventually settled on a channel that regularly showcased footage from the nursery at the Pentagram City Zoo, and all of the adorable bumbling underworldly baby animals.

“That’s weird… all the animals must be hidin’,” Husk commented as he shuffled slightly to get comfortable.

“Aw, wait- ‘Due to a shortage of zookeepers, our regular broadcast is currently on hiatus’- this sucks!” Charlie complained, folding her arms as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, “KHFFF- Khfff- KHFFF!- gasp- KOFFF! KHHhFF!”

Husk glanced up at Charlie, watching her rub her chest as she panted to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed a deep red alongside the patch of sweaty and flushed skin brought on by her fever.

“It’s alright, we’ll find somethin’ else to watch,” Husk said, gently bicycling his feet from underneath his blanket in an attempt to soothe his throbbing muscles.

Charlie flicked through a few more channels, sighing in frustration when nothing interesting seemed to be on, until she accidentally spammed a random channel number after sneezing.

“Heyy, I know that backdrop anywhere- HRr’SCHUHH!- it’s a poker table,” Husk said, his voice slightly disoriented by drowsiness, “They’re playin’ Omaha Hi/Lo, damn…Khff-khff!”

“What’s Omaha?”

“Biggest city in Nebraska,”

“Where’s Nebraska?”

“Earth, Princess, it’s on Earth,”

“O h hhh… is it the capital?”

“No, Princess,”

“Why is it that so many of the biggest Earth cities are never the capital?”

“Eh, I think that’s just America, everywhere else the capital’s the biggest by a long shot,”

“Oh! That’s good, thanks for explaining,” Charlie said with a relieved smile, shivering slightly as sweat trickled down her forehead, “I’m cold…”

Husk frowned, shuffling in an attempt to stand up, pain and fatigue weighing down his arms and legs as he moved, “I’ll go getcha a blanket, Princess- Hh! HhnK’TSHOO! HrR’SCHUHHH!- snff snff!”

Husk managed to slowly pull himself onto his feet, swaying a bit and wincing in pain, his breathing heavy and his vision growing fuzzy at the edges, only for something to hit him in the head right before he attempted to take a step forward. “Ow! What the fuck?!- KHFF khfff!” he yelled, rubbing his head and scowling upon seeing that he’d been hit with Alastor’s microphone.

“Bad kitty, no leaving the area of containment,” Alastor scolded, gently rubbing behind Husk’s ears before playfully tugging on one, while handing Charlie the pink throw blanket from her and Vaggie’s bedroom, “There you are, my dear.”

“Thanks Alastor- snFF!- we can still get up if we have to use the bathroom, right?” Charlie asked, draping the blanket over her legs and smoothing it out.

Alastor bit back the urge to roll his eyes, “Of course you may, your doting divine partner simply wanted to make sure that neither of you were exhausting yourselves unnecessarily,” he said, straightening his lapel and shooting an unamused glance at the television screen.

“Oh, okay,” Charlie said with a yawn, sniffling a bit before pinching her nostrils shut in an attempt to fend off the building itch, “Ehh…e-ehh… EeiiH’KSsHIEW! Eh’KsSHhEW! Eh’KsShiEW!”

Alastor blinked, biting his tongue as he watched the spray of infectious mist glistening under the room’s lighting, biting down harder upon noticing the patch of damp speckles littering his suit jacket, “Gesundheit,” he said with a tight smile, gently petting Charlie’s head with his microphone.

“SnFF!- Sorry Alastor,” Charlie said sheepishly, dabbing at her nostrils with the same folded-up tissue from her pocket.

“Not to worry, I completely understand, it was an honest mistake,” Alastor said through clenched teeth before dropping a box of tissues next to Charlie and handing a separate box to Husk, “There we are, do either of you need anything else before I head out?”

“Could I have a glass of water?” Charlie asked, turning away in an attempt to cover another violent, hacking cough that left her cheeks noticeably redder and her breathing heavier.

Alastor gently waved his microphone in front of the end table next to Charlie, and a glass of ice cold water appeared on the table when he moved his microphone away again.

“Thank you,” Charlie said, taking a few eager gulps before setting the glass back down, “Where are you off to? KHhHff- khff khff!”

“I’m off to pick up my outfit for the summit from the tailor’s, then I’m going to visit Rosie to ensure that we matched colors effectively, and then I have a brief meeting with Ms. Carmilla to return a book of hers I borrowed,” Alastor said with a nonchalant huff, “Just a few errands, I’ll be back soon.”

“C-could you tell Ms. Carmine that I won’t be able to make it? I wanted to call but I don’t have her phone number and every time I tried to call the factory I got disconnected,” Charlie requested with a pleading look in her tired eyes before turning away to cough.

“Of course, I’ll be sure to let her know, rest assured you’ll still be invited to the next one, and I’m certain that your father will be more than happy to promote on your behalf at this summit when he attends,” Alastor said reassuringly, gently petting Charlie’s scalp with his microphone again.

“Why do you keep rubbing my head with your microphone?”

“While you’re in such a pitiful state, I feel inclined to provide you with some comfort, but you are also riddled with germs, so touching you with my hands is out of the question,”

“Oh… well thank you- SnFF snff!- that mbakes sense… have fun with your errands, Alastor,” Charlie said with a weak smile, pulling her blanket further up so that it covered her waist, “KHhFF- Koff KOFF-gasp!- KHhHhfFF! KhHFF- khff khff!”

Alastor winced, patting Charlie on the back with his microphone, “I’ll try, they’re quite boring errands, but I suppose anything can be ‘fun’ with enough effort,” he said, turning to face Husk, “Do you need anything before I go?”

Husk yawned, glancing over at the bar longingly, “Mind grabbin’ my bottle of scotch from the bar?” he asked, gently wiggling his nose to fend off an itch, ultimately failing, “HRrR’SCHOO! HrRR’SCHHUHH!”

Alastor shook his head, “Anything else?” he asked.

Husk raised an eyebrow, “Hey, I paid for that bottle damnit- snFF!- I can drink straight from it if I want,” he argued, letting out a low growl in frustration at Alastor’s refusal.

“Of course you can, however,” Alastor said, bending down and pressing the back of his hand to Husk’s searing forehead, “While you’re this feverish, dehydrating yourself with alcohol isn’t exactly ideal.”

Husk grumbled, folding his arms indignantly, but ultimately relenting, “Fine- snFF!- can I have a glass of orange juice then, please?” he asked, swallowing and trying not to wince at the throbbing pain in his throat.

Alastor smirked, snapping his fingers and placing his hands proudly on his hips when a glass appeared in Husk’s hands.

“Alastor this is a cup and two oranges,” Husk said, unamused, “hHRr’SsCHUHH! HRr’SCHHUH!”

“Alright, alright, I was only amusing myself,” Alastor snickered, waving his microphone over the glass and the oranges, pulling it away to reveal a chilled glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice sitting in Husk’s hands, “Voila.”

Husk took a sip, licking his lips and setting the glass down on the coffee table in front of him, “Thank you,” he yawned before trying and failing to fight a violent febrile shiver, his cheeks flushing darker, “Fuck, ‘m so hot but I feel so cold.”

“You’ll be alright, the chills will sort themselves out,” Alastor said, gently patting Husk on his achy shoulder with his microphone, “Well then, I’m off, try not to do anything ill-advised before your supervision returns from upstairs.”

“We won’t,” Charlie promised with a weak and shaky thumbs up before settling back into her cushioned level of the sofa-bed, tugging her blanket further up on her body and watching the poker match on TV, “Husk, how do you play the Omaha version of poker?”

“It ain’t that different from a traditional game of Texas Hold ‘Em, only difference is-”

Alastor rolled his eyes at Husk and Charlie’s drowsy conversation, turning on his heels and leaving the hotel through the front door, still wincing a bit at the memory of infectious droplets spritzing the front of his jacket. Taking a deep breath, Alastor shook the unsavory memory off, and headed to the tailor’s to pick up his outfit.

So much to do, so little time… and certainly no time for the flu.

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #snz #snz fic #illness kink #gingey.rtf #F i nally finished it #I think I'll try to get two chapters done next time #So I can have them to post at my disposal without worrying about writing them one at a time

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bbcphile · 5 months

Text

WIP Wednesday (MLC longfic again!)

Now that my amnesia fic is posted, it's time for more of my MLC longfic! At long last, LLH is awake again . . . and not doing that well.

(You can find earlier excerpts here.)

CW/TW: Panic attack, bicha flare, suicidal ideation

Something was different. The pain was there as always, waiting to devour him whole once he acknowledged it, but there was something else, something blanketing it, muting it somehow.

Li Lianhua stretched out his senses like a limb and tried to make sense of it.

Ah. Warmth. That was the strange sensation. Warmth–heat, even–all around him–his back, his chest, his legs, even his fingers, which had been more like blocks of ice than flesh and blood these last few months.

He leaned back, pushing into the banked heat behind him. The solid core of warmth tucked against his front from navel to neck twitched, then pressed against him more securely, as though it could make a home for itself inside his sternum, ribs, and spine and heat him from within.

He felt warm everywhere.

Well, almost everywhere.

He rolled forward slightly, wiggled further down on the bed, and tugged the core of warmth up higher. He curled his arms and shoulders around it and nestled the bit in his hand between his face and the pillow until it cradled his cheek.

Much better.

He smiled into his new, warmer pillow and let himself start to relax back into sleep.

“Xiangyi?”

The warmth against his face gradually took shape as his skin and mind began to wake. That was a finger–no, several fingers. A hand. A large hand. And those calluses–how could he not know them when they had clashed steel with him, choked him, clinked brimming cups of wedding wine with him, even been inside him, taking him apart with a gentleness he hadn’t known they could profess.

He let his awareness spread throughout his body, setting aside the pain, and yes, that was a-Fei’s chest he had pressed himself against, like Huli Jing requesting head scritches, and those were a-Fei’s legs, tangled with his, and that was a-Fei’s breath rustling his hair–less now than it had been a moment ago–and that was indeed a-Fei’s arm he was clutching like a child would a favorite toy.

But a-Fei had been holding him first.

Why was a-Fei holding him? It was one thing to wake up in each others’ arms in the newly wed room, after their . . . exertions. Before a-Fei knew that any real dream of a future was doomed to fail.

But to hold him now? After he’d given away the wangchuan flower and left a-Fei behind, left their promise behind? To hold him like he still mattered. Like he wasn’t a curse who killed everyone he’d ever cared about. Like he was some sort of treasure . . .

Treasure . . .

Cabinets stained in blood, Xiaobao’s blood–

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, flinging himself free and to his feet. Where was Xiaobao? He had to find him, had to heal him, before it was too late–

“Xiangyi! Sit down!” A-Fei caught him as his legs buckled and lowered him back onto the bed.

Why wasn’t Xiaobao here? Had he killed him, too, just like he killed everyone he cared about?

“Duobing,” a-Fei roared. “Get in here. Now!” Callused fingers cupped both sides of his face, turning it gently but firmly toward him. “Xiangyi, look at me. He’s alright. He’s on his way.”

“How could he be alright?” Li Lianhua gasped, clutching at his shoulders, the already blurry world turning more hazy. “I saw the blood!”

“I healed him. He’s safe,” a-Fei said, cradling his head as though he could hold the shattering pieces of his mind together. “Now breathe.”

Li Lianhua choked on an inhale, his lungs spasming, only managing to draw in a desperate wheeze.

A-Fei cursed and dropped to his knees by the bed, pressing one hand to Li Lianhua’s back and the other to his chest, filling both with a familiar warmth that began to break apart the iron bands strangling his throat and lungs. “Try again. Feel my hands. Press against them when you inhale.”

The next breath shook and spluttered like a dying candle but some air squeaked through nonetheless.

“Good.” A-Fei gave his back a short supportive pat. “Again.”

Lotus Tower shook as footsteps pounded toward the bed. “What’s wrong?” panted a beautifully familiar, impossible voice. “Xiaohua’er?”

“Bicha,” a-Fei growled, rising from the floor to kneel on the bed at his side, his hands still bracketing him on either side. “He thinks you’re dead. Show him the scab.”

“Shit,” the Xiaobao-shaped hallucination cursed. It seemed especially cruel of hallucinations to now match the blurriness of their surroundings. It made them seem far too real.

The hallucination knelt at his feet and took his hands. “It’s me, Xiaohua’er,” it said, tears in its eyes and voice. “I’m alright. A-Fei healed me. See?” It brought his hand up to a spot on the back of his skull and pressed his fingers to a crusted, raised line on its scalp. “I’m right here and I’m alright. Do you believe me?”

He could feel it. Why could he feel it? His fingers had always passed through hallucinations before. And even when he’d dreamt of Xiaobao, or of a-Fei, of holding them again, it hadn’t felt as real as this. His fingers traced the ridges of the scab–a perfectly neat seam–then the silk curtain of hair that covered it.

This was Xiaobao’s hair. The texture, the thickness, what he could see of the color–no hallucination could do justice to this.

This was his Xiaobao.

He was alive.

“Xiaobao,” he cried, turning his head this way and that to make sure it was the only injury. “You’re alright!”

Xiaobao’s bright smile shone through despite the haze his eyes imposed on everything. “Told you. No harm done. So focus on taking care of yourself, ok, lao huli?”

Li Lianhua huffed out a wet attempt at a scoff and bopped the side of his head. “No harm? What do you call this?”

Xiaobao captured his hands with his and brought them down from his head to rest between them. “Less serious than a Bicha attack. How are you feeling?”

Li Lianhua blinked. A Bicha attack? He turned his attention inward to his qi, and–

Ah. There was a-Fei’s Beifeng Baiyang, somehow wrapped around his Yangzhouman and pushing the last of the poison back into the recesses where it would lie in wait, coiled and ready for the next attack. The black tinge was almost gone from his veins.

He had been so worried about Xiaobao that he hadn’t even realized.

A-Fei had probably saved his life. Again.

He shouldn’t have bothered.

#mysterious lotus casebook #lhl #WIP Wednesday #lianhua lou #my fic #Di Feisheng #Li Lianhua #Fang Duobing #Difanghua #Things will get much better for LLH #starting in the next chapter #If tumblr blocks this excerpt from the MLC tag bc of my tws like it's done on previous weeks I will be so mad #I literally just finished writing this 5 minutes ago #this is the shortest turnaround time ever btwn when I've written something and posted it #cue internal screaming #also I am trying a new narcolepsy med which means thinking feels weird and consequently writing is a massive struggle #so I really hope this lives up to expectation

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