fictarian

[fictarian]

seeing straight men be disgusted by booktok smut recommenders has actually radicalized me to the side of booktok smut recommenders. girls your taste may be atrocious but i will never disparage you for exposing mainstream discourse to the concept of soaking through your underwear. spent my whole life listening to men talk about penises it’s about time they get jumpscared by women talking about pussy in crude detail on social media. go forth and goon my warriors

[fictarian]

shoutout to boring queer people who don’t do shit. just go to work or school and then come home to watch shows. while gay

[fictarian]

We’re so back.

After the account revamp, HOPEFULLY expect another part. Ik it took a year, but we’re turning this into a solo series ‼️‼️‼️

yo yo yoooo ayo gang lemme get amm a hobie brown x gn reader whos like a photographer for the fucking news bullshit and like they are a fan of spider man fam thank uuu

𝐇𝐢𝐦 <𝟑 . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐏𝐭. 𝟓

ღ You ask and I DELIVER‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️

ღ Thank you guys for 60+ followers, it makes me happy you guys like my shit despite only doing this for 3-5 days 😭

ღ ANYWAYS, here’s a story for my boy @thearabloak06 🙏 Tysm for requesting, I hope you enjoy and I hope this story isn’t ass since it’s my first time in awhile writing a full on fic LMFAO

ღ Paring: Hobie Brown and GN! Reader

ღ Premise: Reader has their own section of the daily newspaper, and they use it to write for the anarchist by the name of ‘Spider-Punk’ while also providing pictures they’ve caught of him in action

ღ Whoopsie daisy I just made this into more of a detective/mystery novel instead of a romance 💀 200-400 likes and i’ll make a part 2 (or even its own series)

ღ Previous part can be found here !

“_____, my office, now!” You let out a heavy sigh as the door to your boss’ office slammed shut after he barked an order, and you could feel the eyes following you as you stood up from your desk and made your way over to the room, tossing your empty coffee cup into the trash before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

“Have a seat” He ordered, but your feet remained glued to the ground. “I’m good standing” You stiffly said, crossing your arms over your chest with narrowed eyes. “You asked for me, sir?” In response, your boss slammed a newspaper onto his desk, pushing it forward so you could get a good look at it— it was the paper for today, and you had a pretty reasonable guess as to why he was so peeved.

“We’ve been over this, _____. I don’t want that spider freak in my newspaper.” He seethed, picking up the newspaper and shoving it in your face, pointing specifically at the section you were assigned to. “You know what this gives us? A bad, bad reputation. We’re already on thin ice as it is, and if you keep this up, my company will get shut down all thanks to your stories!”

Your lips tightened into a thin line, feeling your blood boil at what he was saying. Quite frankly, he could take his worries and shove it up his ass for all you cared. The government was corrupt and violent to the people it’s supposed to protect and serve, and Spider Punk was the only symbol of hope the community had. You admired the infamous anarchist, and you wanted everybody to know about him— the possibly only voice of the people.

So that’s why you used the section of the Daily newspaper granted to you, to spread word of Spider Punk’s actions and his defiance against the government. You wanted the people to know about what was going on, to feel empowered knowing that one of their own was rising up against the injustices against them. And if it costed your job, or even your life, so be it. You weren’t just gonna sit around and act like nothing was happening.

Your boss’ words were only fueling your anger. This wasn’t the first time you two had this conversation, in fact, all of your conversations were about this topic. It took all of your willpower to not punch him in the jaw as you opened your mouth to say “But sir, the newspaper is meant to inform people. And with all the smashed law enforcement cars and protests going on, it would be wise to—“ “I dont’t want to hear it! Keep this up, and you can kiss your place here goodbye!” He yelled in your face, and that was your last straw.

“I don’t have to, ‘cause I quit. You can kiss all of your readers goodbye, ‘cause I know damn well the only reason they read your lousy ass newspaper is because of information I provide!” You snapped, turning on your heel and marching out the door, tuning out the string of curses that followed as you exited the building with smoke practically blowing out of your ears. Ok, maybe you handled that the wrong way. But it was too late to go back now… well, you still had to get your stuff from your desk. ‘Embarrassing’ You thought to yourself, keeping your head held high as you turned back around to enter the building for the last time.

You didn’t stay there long, since you didn’t even have much to begin with. The items that occupied your desk consisted of your notepad, your trusty laptop (it was old enough to be considered a fossil), an uneaten nutter butter, and your camera thats strap wrapped comfortably around your neck while your other belongings were placed inside your satchel. With all your items packed away, you were now walking the streets of London as the reality of the situation set in— you didn’t have a job anymore. No source of money, and no way to have a voice in the community.

‘You’re forgetting to breath’ You told yourself, registering the tightness that was beginning to form in your chest and taking a couple deep breaths to ease the panic. This was fine, you were fine. You could always start a blog of your own, and there were plenty of jobs that needed more employees. ‘But it’s not as easy as it sounds, i’ll need to fill out a application, i’ll need to be interviewed, and—‘ Your thoughts were cut short when you suddenly bumped into someone, and you muttered a quick apology before continuing on. “Oi, you’re that chick that writes fo’ the paper, aren’t you?”

You stop, turning to look back at the person you bumped into. He was quite the looker, if you were being completely honest. The male was tall, and dressed in outfit that screamed ‘punk’. He had well done wicks, and a confident aura surrounded him. “It’s rude to stare, y’know?” “Oh, i’m sorry. I spaced out for a second.” You apologized when he called you out, before adding “My name is _____”. The male nodded his head, his gloved hand tucked away in the pocket of his pants. “‘Obie, ‘Obie Brown” Holy shit, you knew he looked familiar. “Aren’t in a band?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “I play with ‘em occasionally, but I don’t believe in consistency.”

You slowly nodded your head, not bothering to question what he meant by that. “Riiight…” The sound of sirens caught your attention, and you looked over your shoulder to see the blue and red lights of law enforcement cars dancing off the walls of buildings. “I wouldn’t suggest goin that way, luv. There was a bad scrap with a couple fellas lookin for a bad time” Hobie warned you, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. Didn’t he come from that way?

The reporter in you told you that there was something amiss, but you didn’t act on the feeling. Not yet. “Yikes, thanks for the warning. I’ll take a different route to my flat.” You informed him, and he nodded his head before turning his back towards you. “I’ll be seein you ‘round, _____. Maybe come to one of my concerts, yeah?” He suggested as he started to walk away. But you weren’t listening.

You were too busy staring at the prominent red, spike having mask that stuck out of Hobie’s back pocket

“Yeah… i’ll take you up on that offer. Cheers!” You called out to Hobie, waiting a couple seconds before lifting your camera up and putting its viewfinder up to your eye, zooming in on the mask before snapping a picture of it. “Christ…” You muttered to yourself, staring at the screen of your camera in disbelief.

You just found yourself with knowledge that could cost you your life

tag list ! @zalayni @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @pixqlsin @kairiscorner @k4tsu3 @asmobeuses

[fictarian]

Hey friends….

[fictarian]

Shout out to this specific genre of ships:

Mysterious girl with beautiful golden eyes and star motifs, and guy who is stoic (but is actually a gentle sweetheart with trauma, and is associated with the military in some way) and has a teal colour palette.

I will always eat this dynamic up.

[fictarian]

Who wants to join?

[fictarian]

Y’all… if you’re gonna say some stupid shit like this, don’t make yourself anonymous 😭✋ Grow a pair before ACTIVELY leaving hate on writer’s profiles, or better yet, keep your racist comments to yourself. It’s appreciated, and spares authors from your bs complaints.

If you want white reader fics, just take one look on wattpad or literally ANY other fan fic site, I promise you there’s some out there. Let people write what they want, and if you want fics that stick with your taste, write it yourself.

[fictarian]

Not for long im turning your age in 19 days

Gangatron school just started back up and im a FRESHMAN now ‼️‼️‼️ Posts might be slower, but at the same time i wanna start a miles series even though i just made the noir one

[fictarian]

I bet you’re only a year older than me

Gangatron school just started back up and im a FRESHMAN now ‼️‼️‼️ Posts might be slower, but at the same time i wanna start a miles series even though i just made the noir one

[fictarian]

Gangatron school just started back up and im a FRESHMAN now ‼️‼️‼️ Posts might be slower, but at the same time i wanna start a miles series even though i just made the noir one

[fictarian]

NO REMOVE THE /J RN

Watching miguel marry somebody else? Then gabri courts us /j

(sighs)

walking down the aisle with someone who isn't me — miguel o'hara x reader

summary: you felt your whole world crumble when you were there with him, by the altar—just not you as the one he'll be marrying. you feel like crying, screaming, running away—you just can't stand the sight of miguel being with anybody but you. but could you blame him? you waited too late to tell him the truth, what you really felt. word count: 868

you were never one to cry at weddings, you honestly couldn't care about someone starting their life again with the addition of another person in it. if anything, weddings always brought smiles to your face. you always dreamed as a young child what your wedding would be like, how beautiful your spouse would be, how tall your cake would be, how much tears your parents and friends would shed, and just... how happy you were going to be for the rest of your life. and just when you thought you found that person... everything comes crashing down on you when he tells you himself, with a wide grin and his right hand over his left, obscuring his surprise, that he's found someone special to him.

why, oh why, universe, do you find your sorrow entertaining?

and the worst part of it all was... you were the person of honor at his wedding. you stood there, close to him, but not close enough to be that special person who he gazed at with such affection, held overflowing love and devotion for in his heart, the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. you were none of those things to him, and for the first time, you saw yourself outside of your body, you wanted to grab yourself by the shoulders and shake you awake. you wanted to slap that fraudulent smile off your face, it hurt to force yourself to stretch a smile this wide when all you wanted to do was sob yourself into next month.

but you couldn't do that, no. you'd be selfish for not being there when he specifically asked you to. besides, it was your fault for not admitting to him sooner. you had loved him for more than a decade, you had adored him for what was about to be 15 years in the making. he held your heart in the palm of his hands without even knowing it; with his silly smiles when he would be caught off guard snickering at something, when he'd look all aloof and stoic when completely in focus, and when that shine and widening of his eyebrows when his interest has been piqued—when he's completely enamored with something—or someone, it seemed—you felt your heart beat a little faster, sometimes skipping to beat once or twice altogether.

you realized it at the end of your junior year, you were in love with miguel o'hara, the only guy who ever looked at you like you were worth something, despite his unbearable attitude and snarkiness—he cared about you a lot more than he's ever cared anyone else. but caring for and loving are not one in the same. you were the one he cared for, but you never were the one he loved.

you supported him and were there for him even after you realized your feelings for him. you were there when his previous partners left him, when he was struggling with his powers at first—you were actually the first person he admitted about them to, he trusted you that much. you were there for him when he needed immediate medical attention, and you were there to listen to him go on and on about his inner turmoils.

you were there. you were always there. you hoped that maybe he'd open his eyes one day to the truth of it all, that no one would ever love him the way you loved him. you felt like you were owed to be with him at the end of all this, that one day, he'd ask you if you loved him, and you'd say yes, and he'd take you up in his arms and thank the stars above that you loved him back. but that kind of stuff only happens in fairy tales, and you were living in a bleak, gray reality where nice people can only go so far.

and here you were, the only one who ever really loved him, never once being seen that way by the man you loved. he was getting married to someone else, someone whose name you didn't care to remember, whose face you didn't wish to keep stowed away in the depths of your mind. you knew he was a catch, you knew a lot of people have the same dreams as you do, to have a piece of him—to bed him, to wake up with him, to hold his hand and kiss him and forget your worries as he holds you close and reassures you he's here for you—but that's all it'll ever be: dreams.

as they exchanged vows and their 'i do's', miguel sneaks a look at you and smiles widely, and it wasn't out of sympathy or friendship—it was a smile that thanked you, a smile that reassured you that even if he's married... he appreciates you. and it was only here, at this very altar, that you found yourself crying for the first time at a wedding; a wedding you would've felt joyous at, proud of for your friend that he found his somebody—if you could only stop yourself from wishing that somebody was you.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0

[fictarian]

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

✧.* Am I seriously writing this at 1 in the morning, just because of a random burst of energy? Yes, yes I am

✧.* Anyways, WELCOME TO THE FIRST PART OF THE NEW SPIDER NOIR SERIES RAHHHH

✧.* This isn’t a request, but an idea that I came up with on my own (surprisingly)

✧.* Ok so, you guys remember that one Tarzan scene where he’s teaching Jane how to vine swing for the first time, and she really enjoys it, and then the two swing around each other until they’re really close and are abt to kiss?

✧.* BRO. YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT I’M ABOUT TO WRITE.

✧.* Here’s Spider Noir teaching their lover how to swing for the very first time, and the fun experience suddenly turns very tender and intimate 💔💔💔 (reader is gender neutral 🫶🏻

When you looked down from the large building you stood atop of into the bustling streets below, you began to question yourself— why did you ever ask Peter to teach you how to swing?

Sure, it looked fun when Peter did it as Spider Noir. When you were watching from a distance. On solid ground. With absolutely zero chance of falling onto the pavement and dying. “Peter, are you sure this is safe? Surely it’s too windy to be doing this… right?” You asked, pulling your eyes away from the ground far below and instead focusing on Peter.

He was right at your side, delicately holding your wrist while he slid one of his spare web shooters on it. Peter lifted his head up, and you could just tell that he wore one of his signature, cheeky smiles under the mask. “Of course it’s safe, darling. I do it everyday, after all.” Peter reassured you with a soft chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to second guess doing this, especially with how much you badgered me over the past couple of days to teach you.”

You grimaced, all of the times you pestered Peter about this matter returning to your mind. “Of course not— I was just making sure the conditions weren’t hazardous so that you could keep up with me.” “Still as feisty as ever, angel. Even when you’re scared out of your mind.” He stepped away from you after a moment, hands on his hips as he looked towards the buildings ahead.

“Remember what we said?” Peter asked, and you nodded your head while glancing down at the web shooter. “Swing, release, repeat.” “Atta girl.” Letting out a nervous sigh, you turn towards the the city before you. ‘I can do this…’ You thought, pointing your wrist in the direction you wanted to swing. Right as you were about to press the button, Peter stopped you by placing his gloved hand gently on your shoulder.

“Doll… you know you don’t have to do this, right? If it truly scares you that much, I won’t stop you from shying away.” A smile began to form on your face from your lover’s reassuring words. “I know. But I want to.” You told him, stepping closer to the edge. “Uhm… you’ll catch me though if I fall, right?” That got a chuckle out of him, easing your nerves just a bit more.

“Of course I will hun. Now come on, you got this. All it takes is a leap of faith, and soon you’ll be cruising through the city.” Peter encouraged you, taking a step forward along with you. “I can do the leaping part, but right now, I have little to no faith in surviving this experience. But having faith in the web snapping? Absolutely.” “If you don’t swing now, i’m going to pick you up and swing myself.”

You scowled at him, biting back the snarky comments that were beginning to form in your throat. ‘Just a leap of faith…’ Aiming to the closest building, you pressed the button of the web shooter and a web string shot forward, sticking to one of the large windows.

You gave the web a little tug, biting your lip while grasping the string of web with your other hand. Letting out a shaky breath, you ran forward before you could have any more doubtful thoughts and jumped. Your breath quickly morphed into a scream, and your grip on the thread turned knuckle white.

“Don’t forget to release and aim for the next place you want to swing to!” Peter called from above, shooting a web of his own and swinging after you. You were too scared to even yell back. But you weren’t too scared to think. You waited until the last second (mainly because you didn’t want to lose the only support you had for even a second) before releasing the web you hung onto.

Peter was by your side in seconds, ready to catch you if need be. “Look to where you want your web to hit, honey. I know it’s hard, but you have to do it for me, okay?” You managed to nod your head, lifting your arm upward while free falling over the city. Quickly pressing and holding the button, another web shot out and (thankfully) stuck to the place where you wanted to swing.

Almost immediately you were jerked forward, and a half gleeful and half terrified laugh escaped your lips when you realized you weren’t falling any more. “P-Peter, look! I’m doing it!” You shouted over the wind, letting out another laugh as you released the web before shooting out another one. Peter let out another laugh, now swinging at your side. “I see that honey! Keep going!”

He watched with pride as you swung from building to building. Not effortlessly, but who cares? You were doing it! Peter felt his heart flutter from each ecstatic laugh that escaped you, and how your eyes crinkled when you did. It was the little things he loved about you— both the good and the bad.

Peter never once stopped staring at you, not even when the two of you were rapidly approaching a bridge. When his web stuck to the bottom of it, he didn’t bother shooting another one. Peter hung to his web, gently swaying due to the wind as he watched you with eyes full of adoration and love.

The full moon took its place behind you two as it lit up the night sky with its bright glow, setting the mood even further as you swung around Peter under the bridge, only then noticing how his eyes— or rather, his goggles— followed you. Your smile softened, and you held onto your current web as your circles around him slowed with each one that passed.

It didn’t take long until you were at a complete stop, hanging onto your web right in front of him. Peter reached towards you, his gloved hand gently caressing your face before whispering “You’re absolutely breathtaking, darling.” You leaned into his touch, his words only making the butterflies in your stomach worse.

With your free hand, you reached towards his face and gently grasped the bottom of Peter’s mask, pulling it up just enough for his lips to be exposed. “I love you, Peter.” And after those words were said, you leaned forward and gently pressed your lips against his. A heat began to rise up Peter’s neck, and he didn’t waste any time to tenderly kiss you back.

The moon seemed to glow even brighter during this intimate moment, outlining yours and Peter’s figures and casting a shadow onto the ground below you. You two took your time, only breaking the kiss when both of you were out of breath. And even then, neither of you fully separated. Peter’s nose lightly bumped into yours, causing you to quietly giggle against his lips.

God, what a night.

tag list ! @zalayni @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @pixqlsin @kairiscorner @k4tsu3 @asmobeuses @maxoloqy @miirene @nokkihy

[fictarian]

No I get that, I want my writing to be available to everyone, and what I don’t want is people thinking that the reader is nothing like them. So whenever something like this happens, PLEASE let me know. I don’t want to exclude anyone

Could i request Hobie w/ reader who struggles with expressing their emotions?🫶

𝐇𝐢𝐦 <𝟑 . ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐏𝐭. 𝟖

ღ I’m not gonna lie, I had such a hard time thinking of how I would portray the reader since there are multiple reasons as to why someone would struggle with expressing themselves, but I ultimately decided on making the reader reclusive, quiet, and VERY awkward. Shout out to my introverted and socially awkward followers, we’re in the same sinking boat 🔥

ღ This kind of strayed from the original request so that’s MY BAD (me when ADHD)

ღ Also, here’s the update on the votes for the next series— It’s currently tied between Miles (both 1610 and 42) and Pavitr Prabhakar, BUT, Spider Noir is currently in the lead. The voting ends when I post part 10 of ‘Him’, and that’s when I’ll choose the winner. So if you haven’t already, go ahead and vote here

ღ Good lord i’m running out of banners, maybe this is my sign to do another profile theme change

ღ Pervious part can be found here !

• It’s a mystery to everyone as to how you and Hobie started dating, given that you both are polar opposites. And to be honest, you have no idea how you managed to bag him either LMFAO.

• You probably met him at the local record store while you were browsing through some of your favorite albums when Hobie suddenly came up to you, asking if you knew where a certain artist was. You didn’t respond to his question for a good couple of minutes, since you were still trying to comprehend the fact that a fine ass, 6’3, punk lover was actually talking to you and you weren’t dreaming.

• When you did respond, your answer came out in a jumble of loud incoherent words (y/n ahh 😭). Of course he didn’t understand what you were saying, so you repeated yourself MUCH quieter, and that didn’t help at all.

• In the end, you just pointed to where the albums Hobie wanted were located before hastily turning around while cursing yourself for fumbling so badly.

• I like to think that Hobie often hangs out with loud and extroverted people, so seeing someone that was the complete opposite of that was refreshing for him (no matter how awkward the situation was). And honestly, Hobie found it cute that he made you react like that from just him talking to you.

• So when you were at the counter paying for your albums, best believe that Hobie came up and payed for your shit as a way to engage in conversation. You did NOT know how to react to that, especially when Hobie only winked and slid you the receipt. He turned it over, which revealed a collection of numbers in messy hand writing.

• “Go head and add my number f’me, love” Your jaw dropped, causing Hobie to chuckle before he pushed himself off the counter waving goodbye to you before exiting the store.

• It took you awhile to actually message him, since you had no clue what to say. But talking to him on phone was much easier in your book, since you didn’t have to rely on your voice much and the thoughts that usually ran through your head in public were slowed.

• You started out with a simple hey and a thank you, and the conversation started from there. Since it was over text, you became a lot more at ease and relaxed while talking with Hobie. However, some (if not all) of the texts he sent made you giggle and kick your feet like a school girl 💀.

• At one point Hobie began flirting and soon, you became daring enough to flirt back.

• ‘Daring now, aren’t we? I bet you wouldn’t say all of this face to face ;)’ ‘Watch me’

• You eat those words when you two set up a place to meet up, and Hobie starts teasing you about the texts you sent NONSTOP. His teasing only makes you act worse and public, and somehow increases your stuttering x10.

• And even when he isn’t teasing you, every single thing Hobie says still makes you trip. For example, when you’re talking, and then he asks you in his deep and gritty voice ‘Speak up f’me, love. I can barley ‘ere a word that comes outta yer pretty mouth’

• 🧍

• Despite your differences and how easily it was for Hobie to make your brain rot, you two grew quite close over a short period of time.

• He’d always push you to do more things and meet more people, and even if it doesn’t work out, Hobie would always praise you for trying and getting out of your comfort zone.

• Hobie would he very supportive and patient with you, since he knows how difficult it is for you to properly get your words out. But even then, he still LOVES teasing you and seeing how bright your face gets.

• Overall, Hobie would be your #1 hypeman and biggest supporter while also managing to be the reason of your demise

tag list ! @zalayni @luvstarrstruck @jrrantss @pixqlsin @kairiscorner @k4tsu3 @asmobeuses @maxoloqy @miirene

[fictarian]

I love how we all collectively agreed that Noir would most definitely be a Barbie fanboy

[fictarian]

I’m actually passed out

y’all please stop sending shit to yourself on anons we not stupid bruh 🙏🏾🙏🏾 ain’t nb saying ts to you everybody know you wrong 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[fictarian]

Im a victim

me after asking all my female friends to post me for national girlfriend day 😈😈