#AND HE HAS SPOTTED THAT SHIT AS STRANGE A MILE AWAY

[robbed-ghost]

“Damian isn’t ooc what are you talking aboutttt he’s only 14 and wants to trust his dad so badlyyyy guyssss don’t get upsettt” have you never read a comic with Damian in it in your life

[tonycries]

Hot To Go!

Synopsis. Getting hit by a séx technique? No problem! Of course, you’re there to help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx cursed technique (he’s affected), mating press, they’re REALLY needy, fúck or díe, oraI (fem receiving), jealousy (Nanami’s), bréeding, marathon séx, teary Gojo, creampíe, spítting, cúmplay, thígh ríding, fíngering, VERY pússydrunk boys, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k (woah)

A/N. I needed this outta my mind so bad y’all omg. Have a lovely day babygirls <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Just sit on it, woman!

“Please…” Toji drawls, slow and syrupy around your puffy clit. “Who do you think you are, doll? Just sit.”

Now, the problem wasn’t that strange, low-level curse from Toji’s latest job. No, don’t make him laugh - he barely felt whatever that weak cursed technique was. The problem was the way he’d trudged back home, not even thinking of reaching for that door handle before it hits him. 

Suddenly too-sensitive nose getting a whiff of your shampoo - all the way from inside the bedroom. 

All the way to that dangerous, ugly little part of himself that says that if he doesn’t get a taste of you right now then neither of you are making out of this alive. 

And it’s all you can do to gasp, “T-Toji what happened?”

“You. You happened. N’ I don’t care if I hafta oh-” he cuts himself off, hot lips surging forwards - addicted - to place another slow, wet peck on the sweet sweet juices beading at your cunt. “-if I hafta fuckin’ suffocate, m’gonna die if you don’t just sit, goddammit.”

“Fuck!” you keen when two, calloused hands of Toji’s loop around your shaky thighs. Pulling, dragging you down to press your entire weight down onto his slutty mouth. “You’re being so…”

He barely even hears you - too caught up on the way your pretty cunt was drooling down his waiting tongue. 

Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his face up, up, up to let your heady juices slide down his throat. “What? Filthy? Needy? Like a bitch in heat?”

Each hissed out little word has you jolting on top of him - and Toji only tightening his bruising grip with a pained grunt to stop you from disconnecting with his ruthless lips.

“Ohhh fuck stay still, woman. S’the stuff of heaven. You’re so lucky you weren’t anywhere near me after that fight.” he spits at the feeling of you clenching around him, mouth moving a mile a minute even when he slips it past your swollen folds, dragging the muscles along all your hidden sweet spots. “So lucky. So sweet- so perfect thought I was gonna die without a lil’ taste-” 

A shiver runs down your spine - all the way down to where Toji was messily making out with your ravaged pussy. Stretching you out, milking himself on your sloppy entrance. Animalistically, even.

You squeal, “Think I’m gonna die.”

“Shit- and you think I care? Just want- ngh-” And that sinful little scar rubs up against your sensitive folds when Toji grins knowingly, so deep now that his nose was pressing against your pelvis, jaw grinding against you. Big arms orchestrating each mean, long drag of your sloppy pussy up and down his pretty face. Up and down up and down up and- “What did I say? This is all because of y-you, y’know?”

And Toji’s tone is so low, strangled - that the answer almost comes out as a whine. It makes you snap your glassy eyes down to look - to gape at how utterly wrecked he already was. 

Dark hair curtaining those pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes, your slick glossing prettily over his plump lips - all the way down to his cheeks, his sharp jawline. And only getting sloppier with each movement,

“Me?” you blink tearily - fuck, when did it get so good you started crying? And why was Toji much the same? Dark eyes wet and miles away. 

“Mhm.”

“S’your fault for being so- so-” As if the words were failing him, Toji’s only moves to suck harsher on your throbbing clit. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid ah! ah! ah! “-like this.”

Even through the haze of it all, you manage out a huff of laughter, “Like this?”

For this, you get a sharp smack! on the fat of your ass. Thick fingers soothing over the sting almost immediately so that you’re not bowing your body away from Toji’s persistent mouth, “S’it so bad if I wanna taste my sweet girl?.” He moans, sounding so genuinely pained, “But I need you- need to taste this fuuuck pretty cunt so bad. Gonna die if I don’t- if I-” 

“Hngh- yes- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” your fingers threat their way into his soft hair. Tugging and pulling with each harsh lap at your cunt. Your body arching like a slut as if on command when he speeds up, “-feels too good. M’so close fuck-”

“Be messy, be loud- I don’t fucking care.” he hisses, brows furrowing in concentration. And whatever’s left of that practical little part of your hazy mind wonders whether it doesn’t hurt - whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up, mouth aching. “Jus- jus wan’ you to cum on m’tongue. You’ll let me taste you, right, doll? Want it want it want it so fuckin’ bad-”

You didn’t know who wanted you to cum more - you, or your dear boyfriend.

But when you do - you have you answer. 

“F-fuck, Toji.” your gummy walls clench around where he was bullying his tongue inside. “M’cumming- M’cumming m’cumming m’- ah!” 

“Give it t’me. Give it allll to me that’s it.” Because Toji’s lapping at each and every syrupy drop of your juices, moaning into your cunt as you ride him through your high. Addicted. The vibrations having your hips stuttering and unstable on top of him. 

He lets his thumb draw lazy, tight circles on your sensitive clit. Unstopping - even when you’re blinking back your spotty vision, tears crinkling at the corner of your eyes at the overstimulation. 

Even when you try to pull away from his ruthless mouth - little, messy strings of spit and slick snapping in the nonexistent distance. 

Even when he still darts his tongue out hastily to taste you sloppily, “One more - didn’t get enough of m’fill.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Can’t- won’t wait!

Everyone knows that your husband Nanami was protective - rightfully so. Everyone knows that just a toe out of line could have the stoic man snapping - showing off exactly why he was the one that put that pretty lil’ ring on your finger. 

But never like this. 

Never so…crazed.

And it’d only taken one too many flirty comments from some new intern in the time it’d taken Nanami to rush over there from his latest jujutsu mission. Just for your husband to drag you away from the party, barely paying attention to anything else.

Though, when you caught a glimpse of his eyes you didn’t think he could - gaze strangely hazy, breath a bit shorter, skin flushed a delicate pink. 

“Can’t believe it.” he groans, pressing you up against the wall of the nearest empty room he could find. Fat cock just nudging past that feeble ring of resistance of yours. “Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Fuck-”

You’re jumping slightly with each little profanity spat into your open mouth, bleary eyes blinking up at your Nanami. Managing out, “Is everything hah- alright, Ken?”

“Can’t fucking believe it.”

There it was again. 

That low, accusing little mantra - this time panted out into the side of your racing pulse. Breaking ever-so-slightly at the end when Nanami’s bullying his swollen cock deeper past your plushy walls, the curve of his girth having you arch like such a slut against the wall. 

Nanami growls, “Can’t fucking believe-” he slides two hands under your weakening thighs easily, picking you up like some little ragdoll to be split apart on his cock. Murmuring against your mouth, “Can’t believe you won’t let me jus’ fuck you right then and there, my love.”

You don’t know what shocks you more - Nanami’s words or the way he’s immediately letting gravity do all the work, sliding your dripping cunt so easily down his cock. Inch by fucking inch. 

All up until your pelvis was flush against those neat tufts of blond at his base. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Nanami so impatient. 

“Thought I was gonna die without your sweet cunt.” He was barely even breathing. Eyes glassy - crazed. Voice so deep and ragged when he whispers into your ear. “Should’ve jus’ let me fuck you out there, right in the middle of the ball. Made a scene n’ showed them all please- we could go back-”

And it takes you a few seconds to realize that this is Nanami. Your Nanami.

Seriously, what the fuck happened on that mission?

“But- what?” you squeal, gummy walls swallowing him up so readily despite your confusion. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

And this little comment makes Nanami physically stop, dark eyes glinting with something so dark - dangerous. Brows furrowing as he utters, “Nothing. Did you forget that I’m your husband, darling?” Having you scrambling to hang onto his broad shoulders as he walks over to splay you out so prettily on a nearby desk. “Or do I jus’ hafta remind you?”

It’s all it takes for Nanami to thrust up into your heavenly cunt. One hand holding you still on the cool desk, while the other just ravages your throbbing clit in time with his needy cock. 

“F-fuck, Ken— oh- yes yes yes-”

Fat tip pressing up against your g-spot like he had a point to prove, spearing you at each harsh, bullying thrust that has you pushed further and further up the desk. Over and over. 

The desk shifts ever-so-slightly with every smack of Nanami’s heavy balls against your ass. Creaking - but not loud enough over your obscene moans. 

“Stop-” he chokes out at the feeling of your pussy being inched away from him. You weren’t running from him that easily. Which is exactly the thought ringing through his mind when Nanami circles his large hands underneath your thighs, dragging you right across to meet his sculpted front. “Stop fuckin’ running away.” Nevermind the fact that you weren’t - voluntarily at least. “Please- need it so badly, s’like m’burning without ya. You’re gonna take my cock like a hah- g-good lil’ wife, okay?”

And Nanami knows maybe he should slow down - maybe ease you into it, first. But either it was that stupid fucking cursed technique talking or maybe the sight of some loser being all starry-eyed at you, he’s fucking you into the desk so mean. 

“Should’ve- would’ve.” he’s grunting, and you already know what he’s talking about. “Saw you in this pretty lil’ dress and fuck darling you don’t know how h-hard it was to ngh keep m’self in check.” Teeth nipping and leaving little bite marks down your neck, and shit if you were in any better state of mind you’d have had the rationality to be worried about them - about how people would talk if they saw those. “N’ I would’ve loved to. Don’ know how much I fuck- w-worship this pussy, my love. How much I was dreaming about it all day long.”

The creaking grows louder.

Your head is spinning right now, “All day long?”

“Mhm…” Nanami slurs, a loose little smile playing on his lips. “Always do. But today- fuck, today. Needed to feel you or I thought I was gonna ngh- die. Or worse.” 

“Or worse.”

Bang! 

In a split-second, you’re back bunched up in Nanami’s arms - his cock still buried deep within you. Moving. Merciless. Even though his eyes flicker downwards at the pile of wood that used to be a desk. “Lose you that promotion.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Use?

“Use me.” 

“What?”

“Use me, goddammit.”

Geto sounded almost hysterical now - words ragged, a pitch higher than normal. Staring at you with that drunk, wide-eyed gaze while you perched right on his muscular thigh. Looking as bewildered as you felt at that moment when he lets out a humorless little laugh, “That curse- fuck I should’ve known before ingesting- shit.” 

Fingers frantic - almost tearing through the fabric of his boxers as he removes them feverishly. 

And his cock didn’t just look rock-hard no- it looked so so angry. So painful. Flushed a pretty red at his weepy tip, leaking down, down, down straight to where you’d unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.

“O-oh.” he gasps in relief when you’re dragging your fist up his cock. Head throwing back to show off that long, beautiful neck - dusted with a blush going all the way down. “Could cum from just this fuuuck.”

And this was nothing like the Geto Suguru you were used to - the sweet talker who’d have you falling apart with just a few words. The one that treated sex like a game - where you were always his pretty lil’ loser.

“Care to elaborate, Sugu?” you flash him a smug smirk - one that makes his swollen cock twitch traitorously in your hand. “Shit, you’re so needy right now you could cum untouched.”

“You little bitch.” he spits out, greedy gaze stuck on the way you were beginning to drag your sloppy cunt up and down his toned thigh. In a way that makes it impossible for Geto to tear his eyes away from the way you were intentionally catching your throbbing clit on each and every dip of muscle, spreading your puffy folds. “You know what I mean.”

You’re batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, grinding your hips down harder. “I don’t.”

As if to prove your point, you squeeze around his aching dick even harder, pumping your fist all the way from his soaked base up to his sensitive slit. 

Immediately, he bucks his hips up wildly, precum smearing a glossy sheen all over your wrist. “F-fuck you.” he spits. “You little-” And oh you should’ve known that Geto was Geto despite whatever he’d been cursed with. That it’d only take him a split second to reach a hand over to smear the mess of sweet sweet juices you were trailing over his thigh. Bullying his dripping wet fingers between your lips, “You talk too fuckin’ much, gorgeous.”

Oh.

Oh, you were fucked.

“You really think I’d let you g-get away with hah that much?” Geto drawls against your ear, fingers dancing down to control your movements riding his thigh. “N’ after ngh- I was so nice.” He was pulling - dragging you at a mean little pace now. “Should’ve just shut up n’ taken it. Should’ve just used me when I asked.”

It’s like he’d forgotten all about his lust-drunk little state. 

You’re mewling, muffled around his thick fingers. Something that only makes his lips curl up into a syrupy, smug grin, “Who’s cumming untouched now? Got somethin’ to fuck- say?”

You do - and you’re thumbing teasingly under Geto’s neat slit, reveling in the way that makes his harsh little rant die in his throat. Moving your hand up and down to first his cock needily in hasty, long movements like you were trying to fuck something delicious out. 

“You little minx hah-” he’s pressing his fingers right at the back of your tongue, hot mouth kissing away the salty tears welling up behind your eyes. “S-so dirty.”

And it was dirty - your hands coated in Geto’s sheen of precum, his thigh glossy with your slick. But neither of you could bring yourselves to be disgusted - not one bit. 

Not when Geto was forcing down your hips harder, bouncing his knee to match your slutty little tempo. Faster. More desperate. Letting you concentrate on driving him fucking insane with your soft hands - palming and running only on the need to making him cum. To have him spill so hotly all over your hands. 

“Yeah, oh God that’s right- Use me use me use me-” Geto’s mouth slacks open, eyes heady and cracked only to eye the way you’re clenching and quivering around nothing. Your hips only stuttering - getting sloppier and sloppier with each weighty, hard slide down his thigh. He groans, “Fuck fuck fuck m’close-”

“M-me too-” you whine, voice breaking so pathetically at the end. “So much for coming untouched.”

Close - too close.

Close enough that you’re barely even noticing the way Geto’s stiffening up underneath you. Breath hitching in his throat before-

Slam!

“Wha-” Your back hits the plush mattress - so fast that you almost have half the mind to wonder whether this was some figment of your imagination. But, no, Geto’s hot tip nudging at your puffy folds was real. Dangerous. Waiting for just the right moment to rip you apart. His bated breath against your ear was real - very, very real. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “S-sex?”

Oh, Choso sounded so fucked out just from uttering that.

And you feel the way your cunt clenches at that broken, almost-whiny little plea coming from your best friend’s mouth. Big, dark eyes blinking up at you dazedly in a way that makes you tighten your legs around his waist, pinned to the floor of- fuck, which curse site was this again?

“Mhm, Cho.” you hum, drinking in the shallow pants he lets out into your mouth when you slide his leaky, angry tip between your swollen folds. Barely teasing him between your slit, “S’the only way to get rid of this technique, right?”

Clothes are torn off, breaths coming out in pants. You don’t know if Choso registers your words - shit, you don’t know if he even hears you right now. 

Barely even breathing as he slides two shaky hands of his to rest up at your hips. Giving you a reassuring squeeze once. Twice. Before pulling you down in a split second. 

“Yes!” the word bursts out from his lips. Choso drags your body up, up, up his throbbing length like some ragdoll - until his pretty pink tip was just circling around your sloppy hole - only to bring you all the way back down again. Barely even halfway in yet, but the stretch - fuck, the stretch had you arching for more. “Yes yes yes yes yes fuck yes if you feel just like- like heaven-”

You never thought your sweet Choso would be so needy. Would buck his hips so ferally into your syrupy sweet cunt until you were second-guessing why it ever took so long to do something like this.

Until today’s fateful little mishap with another curse, that is - and oh, you’ve never been more grateful for that stray cursed technique. 

“Hngh-” you screw your eyes shut when the curve of his dick brushed against your sweet spots - unforgivingly. Spreading the fat of your ass in two big hands, trying to squeeze himself inside deeper. Again. And again and again and- “S-slow down, Cho–”

‘Slow down?” Choso breathes from below you - sounding so genuinely bewildered. Still thrusting up in stubborn, long grinds. “Y-you want me to slow down? After- after this?” He’s giving a mean thrust into your gummy pussy, eyes widening down at the heavenly view of your puffy lips sucking him up. Spread needily, bulging around his girth in a way he’d have felt sorry for if he was in any better state of mind. “Slow down- Yeah, gotta- gotta slow down.”

But he only fucks up into you harder. Stronger. Like it killed him to do anything but take you right now and right there on the floor. Messy - no rhythm or rhyme of his hips, just running on pure need and the feeling of you milking his poor cock.

And the idea of that - of your best friend being drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around his aching cock - has you a little more breathless than you’d like. Plushy walls clamping down tight. 

Almost immediately, Choso’s throwing his head back, gasping out a stuttering, “O-oh so ngh- that’s what it feels like. Always- always imagined if…” You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence because two long fingers of his are latching on shyly to your sensitive clit, rolling softly. 

And if he were any less of a man, Choso would be cumming on the spot - fuck, he’d be passing out. 

“Fuuuuck tighter than I’d dreamt of.” he whimpers, cock twitching wildly inside your dripping cunt. Deft fingers find a lewd little rhythm to toy with your ravaged clit. “Have to slow down- have to- can’t.”

He was out of control now. Sloppy. Teary praises leaving those pretty pink lips with each bullying piston of his hips. 

“Ch-Choso!” you whine, dragging your hips down to meet his sloppy cadence.

Choso’s eyes flutter to the back of his head, grunting “Yes, yes that’s it, my baby. Say my name.” Using his inhuman strength to put pressure on your hips. “Take it- take it please. Wan’ see you full of m’cock.” All the way until the heady bedroom echoes with a loud smack! his fat head kissing your cervix, heavy balls imprinting against your ass. 

And then it’s like something snapped. 

Choso’s sanity - his restraint. Possibly you by the end of this. 

Because in all of two seconds, he’s flipping the two of you over. Your back pressed against the cool floor, legs thrown over his shoulders until your knees were folded all the way up into your tits, Choso groans into your ear at the all new angle. 

Not wasting a second longer before fucking you in this mean little mating press, abs rippling with each heavy, calculated movement. 

“Baby…” Choso drags his lips up your neck, sharp canines biting down on your earlobe. Gentle - the complete opposite of his rock-hard cock. “Think if I cum inside s’gonna solve the curse?”

Oh.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - True kinda love

You thought you’d seen everything there is about the king of curses. Anything from those smug kisses he’d give you after taking care of “scum curses” for fun to the times he’d begrudgingly watch sappy movies with you - only to fuck away your tears at the end. 

You thought.

But oh you’d never seen him like this - yukata torn apart, no longer fitting how much bigger was, how much stronger his form was. His true form. 

Muscles just bulging on all four arms, eyes half-lidded, dark nails leaving neat little indents where he held your squirming hips sat prettily on two matching, painfully hard cocks. 

Well, “sat prettily” was an understatement - right now you felt so full you could’ve just died.

“Heh, better not die on me just yet because I feel like m’gonna kill fucking everyone..” Sukuna’s large pecs rumble with laughter- shit, had you said that out loud? “Everything.” Long tongue coming up to lick a hot trail up the big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Whispering raggedly, “God- fuck! How’d you want it? Like I’m me or like hah- this?”

It’s all you can do to crane your head up deliriously, batting your teary lashes in a way that makes Sukuna twitch so wildly. 

His veins thump! thump! thumping into your gummy walls, fat heads nudging right at your bruised cervix - your lungs it felt like. Hips grinding up into yours when he’s shoving himself impossibly deeper, “Answer me.”

“Fuck!” you’re gasping, stupidly. Glassy gaze flitting down to the two angry cocks bullied inside your poor pussy. And still going. “N-no, your true ngh- form- fuck-” 

“Oh yeah?”

Your words are coming out a garbled mess, making such a sly, dangerous leer spread across Sukuna’s lips. Fucking up faster. Sloppier. 

Oh, the feeling had him lightheaded. Had him thankful he lost control of his powers to maintain that pathetic human image of his. Had him ramming past those rings of muscle again. And again. And again and again- oh he was fucked.

“Fuuuck, feel like m’burning. M’so lucky.” Sukuna slurs out, a free hand of his busying itself toying with your throbbing clit. Pulling, rolling in a way he knows will have you whining so prettily. “Sooo fuckin’ lucky I didn’t kill that fuckin’ trash curse.” Glossing his wrists with your sweet sweet juices, lips kissing at your heated ears. “Because now I get to see how much of a slut my girl is f’me, hm?”

The only answer he’s getting is a wet string of profanities that even Ryomen Sukuna himself is proud of. 

Because suddenly Sukuna’s crashing his achy tips against your g-spot, throwing his head back at how fucking sinful it felt to be rubbing up against himself. 

“Shit- yer only getting tighter.” he spits, strained. Sculpted thighs rippling underneath you where he was fucking up into you in jagged, methodical half-thrusts to mold your sweet cunt to him. “Ngh- fuuuck gonna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“Please-” you’re clawing at the sheets, the headboard, Sukuna’s shoulders - anything and everything to keep your sanity. Begging for- what? Mercy? More? “Please please- m’so close. Kuna ngh-”

He cranes his head down to kiss at your slack lips, breaths feverish. “Damn. Open that m-mouth now, brat. Jus’ a bit- jus’ a bit more.” 

Your mouth is sagging open, tongue lolling out before you know it - positioned perfectly for the bigger man to purse his lips and spit. Once. Twice. 

And Sukuna knew he had perfect aim, he knew he could’ve made this easy for you - but, no, the steady stream of saliva is splattering against the side of your mouth. A large thumb of his coming up to swipe the mess across your wobbly lower lips. 

“My girl deserves to be treated like the slut she is, right?”

His true form has those inhumanly large fingers moving so unfairly fast on your clit, rolling and pinching in an obscene little blur. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you sob, ass stinging where his heavy balls were smacking you - sure to leave a few embarrassing marks. And fuck he’s not even all the way in yet. “Y-you’re so deep- so much. Close Hngh-”

Sukuna’s grinning, two hands helping just drag you down his sloppy length, until your sopping folds were kissing at his toned pelvis. Another dancing up to knead and grope your sloppy hole open wider, “Say it. Say who you’re acting like such a slut for.”

“It’s- fuck!”

“Say it properly, my cockdrunk girl. Say it if you wanna cum.”

“You!” your words fail you pathetically, and the only think you’re moaning next is Sukuna’s name - like a prayer. “S’you Kuna oh-”

And then you’re cumming - white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, and Sukuna’s name in your mouth. Arching into his body. His tongue slipping past your puffy lips to muffle his own moans because God this was the hardest he’d cum in his life and he wasn’t about to drown out any of your pretty moans with it. 

“Oh-” Sukuna shudders, fucking you over and over through your high. Two hands carrying your weight and- shit, when did he stand up? “Yeahh, milk me like that, just it mm knew you were so good f’me-”

You’re realizing with a jolt that he’d gotten up, using gravity to his advantage and sliding you up and down his swollen cocks like some glorified sextoy. So easily. So sinfully while he filled your poor overfilled over and over. 

Thick, hot globs of cum that drool down your messy cunt, so fucking much from both his throbbing cocks. Like he couldn’t - wouldn’t stop. 

Enough to form a pool at Sukuna’s feet. One he doesn’t even give a second glance before muttering, “Ya better hope you’re on the pill because the curse and I are far from over, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - STRONGEST

You thought it would bate by his second orgasm. 

And when it didn’t, well, surely the third time was the charm…

Or, well on the slight chance that that didn’t work - the fourth would be the last, right? Right?

“Sweetheart…” Gojo mutters, teary, red-rimmed eyes peering so unfairly into your hazy ones. Folding your trembling, limp legs back into such a tight mating press. “Jus’ one more time. Please? I promise this fifth time’s gonna be the last.” 

Wrong. And here you were, folded up in half underneath the great Gojo Satoru - the strongest, the same sorcerer that can take down a special grade and let himself be hit by its cursed technique (“out of curiosity!”) in the same breath. 

“A-another?” you mutter, but it comes out much more breathless than you intended. Thighs tightening involuntarily where they were thrown over Gojo’s broad shoulders. “Toru, are you sure-”

Your dear boyfriend’s only giving you a slow, lazy nod. A dopey smile spreading over his face when he spots the trail of gooey white dribbling down your poor, overfilled pussy, gushing out of you with each languid thrust. Oh- shit, when had he started moving again? You bet even he didn’t know that answer.

And before you can react, Gojo’s taking the time to pool the sinful mess on two of his fingers - promptly bullying them back into your already stuffed cunt.

Fuck, you’re not making it out of this alive.

“Shit, taking me so e-easily, huh?” Gojo’s raw, pink lips fall open when your sloppy hole stretches just enough to accommodate his long fingers. “Y-yeah tha’s it. Take it like m’good girl.” Tears of sensitivity pricking behind his eyes when you clench around him so fucking tight, your plushy walls just milking his ravaged cock. “F-fuck s’too sensitive. Too much!”

And despite his own little whines at the back of his throat, Gojo makes no move to stop. 

Did he say he’d stop? Ah, his fried brain couldn’t remember anymore.

None at all, instead, he’s raising his glossy finger pads right up to his mouth. Blue eyes falling shut when he presses them inside momentarily, sucking, savoring the taste of you and him and you-

“You’re t-too much, Toru.” you squeal in embarrassment. 

And that’s all it takes the strongest to let out a barely-lucid hum of agreement - pulling out his fingers with a lewd pop! 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” he leans down to hum, breath hot against your face. “But what can I- ngh- do-” Each word was punctuated by a harsh, sloppy smack of his hips against your own. Not even bothering pulling all the way out - Gojo doesn’t have to, because he’s nudging all your sweet spots so expertly anyway. Grunting out over those absolutely lewd squelches, “I just want- need you so bad. S’like m’burning from the inside hah- o-out if I don’t ngh fuck this pretty pussy.” He’s babbling deliriously, bent so far down now that your forehead is pressed up against his, thighs burning at the stretch. “-need it so bad. Need it - my one weakness, sweetheart. S’gonna kill me- gonna be the death of me oh-”

“Please!” you think you could almost feel Gojo’s cum sloshing around your walls right now. Fucking you into the mattress so hard - so deep - that you wonder by what miracle the neither of you haven’t broken anything yet. 

It wasn’t a miracle - it was his reverse cursed technique, which the both of you discover only much, much later. 

But for now you’re only clinging desperately to Gojo’s muscled shoulders, bones popping in protest. Fucked-out whimpers spiling from his pretty mouth each time he was slamming his poor, overused cock inside you. Teary eyes screwing shut because shit it hurt so good. Too good. 

“F-Fuck!” you’re gasping when he dances his fingers straight down to draw hasty, feverish little circles on your poor clit. Fingers clawing at his persistent wrist, “Oh my god-”

Gojo hums into your mouth, “J-just ‘Toru’ is fine.”

You let his cocky little comment slide - if only because your boyfriend was smashing into your g-spot repeatedly now. Over and over.

Voice about an octave higher when he’s groaning, “Y-yeah, that good? Ngh- ah!” His hips were stuttering forwards - messy, so so needy like he was drunk on those cute lil’ whines tearing from you with each drag of his cock. “Yeah fuck fuck f-fuck yer killin’ me - pussy too good, feels like m’gonna die.”

God, he really did feel like he could die. Fuck. 

“M-me too ngh, Toru.” you wrench your eyes open when something so wet splashes onto your cheeks. Boring into Gojo’s glassy, pussydrunk eyes. Crying now. “M’so close-”

“O-oh yeah?”

And then he’s speeding up - if that was even possible. Flushed skin smacking against yours harder. Just a bit more calculated. Like he couldn’t stop. Uncontrollable. 

Enough for Gojo to blink away the slight haze in his eyes and actually look at you. Look at the way your lips wobble with each glide of his fat tip against your sensitive spots, the way you milk him harder when he’s smearing his mess of cum all over your clit. At those delirious little heart-eyes you give him when he only lets his jaw sag open, such fucking embarrassing whimpers of your name being drawn all the way from his overworked cock. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.” he manages to grit out. “Cum f’me cum f’me, please. Please.”

And how could you not when the strongest asks you so prettily?

You don’t know who cums first - just that your own orgasm is a wave of tingles that shoot all the way from your toes right into your stupidly fucked-out brain. Again and again and Gojo-

Oh, Gojo can’t do anything but bury his head into the crook of your neck. Sharp teeth biting down hard at the point of your pulse as he cums over and over and over. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed right into your silky cunt. A sinful little white that drools out of your sloppy slit - too much. 

“Sweetheart…” Oh, you knew that tone - too well. “Y’know how I h-have the ah- six eyes n’ this was only our fifth round and six is really a nice num-”

“M’gonna kill you, Toru.”

“S’that dirty talk for our sixth round?”

A/N. TEARY GOJO TEARY GOJO TEARY GOJO

Plagiarism not authorized.

[luveline]

Hi, I’ve never actually sent a request before so hopefully this is okay, but maybe Hotch’s adult daughter calling him dad for the first time when she’s in trouble or hurt which could also open up an opportunity for Hotch to see her mother for the first time since he found out about her

You’re gonna throw your pants in the trash when you get home. The blouse is a loss —getting blood out of champagne material is a pipe dream. But the pants were unscathed until now. 

“Can you look at me?” 

You lift your pounding head. The EMT cups your cheek, her lips quirked into a deep frown as she raises a small flashlight to your eyes. “Just gonna check your pupils again,” she murmurs, shining the light in your eye. 

Each flash has a heated knife of pain slamming into your brain. You moan in pain and tip your head forward, wanting more than anything to lay down. 

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” the EMT asks. 

“I want to go to the hospital,” you say. Surely they can fix the carving agony behind your face. 

“I know. As soon as the ruckus upstairs is clear, we’re going to take you there.” 

“I don’t want to sit here.” You grimace at the clammy stone under your legs. The subway is not a good place to touch things. 

“It’ll be over soon. There’s a heavy police presence. You’ll be okay.” 

“Got blood on my shirt,” you mumble. 

“I’m sure someone will wash it for you.” 

“My dad,” you say without thinking. 

If you asked, Aaron would wash the blood from your shirt. He could buy you a whole new wardrobe and he would if you let him, but he would just as happily stand at the sink scrubbing away your stains. 

“Ah, Mr. Hotchner,” the EMT says. “I’ve heard about him, I think we all have. He’s a very important man.” 

“He’s just my dad,” you whisper. 

You’re not really talking to her anymore, the thumping pain behind your eyes a wave you can’t get past. It hurts with every breath. When you hold out your hand, the EMT knows without asking that you’re going to throw up. 

She’s more alarmed after that. “Okay, I’m gonna take you upstairs now, okay? I’m sorry there’s no gurney, but we just have to get to the top of the stairs.” 

Each step sucks. You taste blood and vomit alike on your tongue, the daylight is too bright as you ascend the steps, and the EMT isn’t taking enough of your weight. You moan something incomprehensible even to yourself on the second to last step and cover your eyes, aware of the sirens, the roaring crowds, glass shattering at your feet. 

“Shit,” the EMT says. 

You search for your phone blindly, your hand lost in a pocket full of gum wrappers and tissue. “I don’t have my bag... I want my phone. Need to call my dad.” 

“It’s okay,” she says, giving you an encouraging jostle to look out at the clearing sidewalk. “I can see him.” 

Aaron is speed-walking through the crowd. He’s surrounded by people in Kevlar vests, but he himself wears nothing more than his usual suit and tie. His face changes when he sees you from glaring to a strange flitting panic. 

“Are you all right?” he asks, jogging those last few metres to take you by the elbows. “Sweetheart, are you all right?” 

Your eyes are tired. “Somebody hit me,” you say. 

“I know.” His sympathy is warm, his hand smoothing up your arm as he turns on the spot. “Morgan, can we get better access down this street?” 

One of the Kevlar vests doubles back the way they came. You’re trying to make sense of who you’re seeing, and what’s happening, but the confusion since you got hurt is enthusiastic. You can’t make sense of anything but the splitting pain in your head. 

Aaron’s talking five miles a second and ushering you up those last few steps, a gentleness to his touch that’s absent in his barked commands. 

You’ve never heard him shout like that. You can’t help staring at him. 

“This is an attempted insurrection. The aggression is only going to get worse. JJ, see if you can coordinate with metro PD, make sure there aren’t any other injured civilians in the subway. Dave, I need you to run the operation while I go with her.” 

“Aaron,” you say, watching his frown deepen. 

“Reid, you’re with JJ. Prentiss, I want you to find who laid hands on her–”

“Aaron,” you say again, shocked. 

He gives your arm a placating squeeze. 

“They could still be here.” Everything he says is unarguable. He’s suddenly a monolith, and he’s freaking you out, and you’re no closer to being in the back of the ambulance than you had been ten minutes ago. “Have Garcia pull the security footage–”

“Dad,” you say in a short breath, your hand grasping weakly at his arm. 

He falls silent for a moment. The agent you’re unfamiliar with becomes the man who brings you teddy bears at dinner and sends encouraging missives in the morning. 

“What, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks. Not gentle, but hushed.

“I think I’m gonna be sick again.” 

The EMT passes you a paper bag. 

—

You could hear a pin drop in your hospital room. Your broken nose has its own heartbeat, but that’s a feeling, rather than a sound. Aaron hasn’t spoken in a long time, he just sits there with his hand on your arm, waiting for a cue you don’t give. You’re so embarrassed about calling him dad you’ve decided to never speak to him again. 

His hand occasionally comes to life, giving your arm a soft up and down. 

It’s strange to suddenly have a father, but not bad. His paternal caring is a comfort with all the pain, and it doesn’t feel stilted. With Aaron it never has, he found out you were his and he immediately began to act like it, though you suppose you’ll never know how he would’ve loved you as an adult if he’d known you as a child. This feels genuine. Careful, but genuine. 

“Time to take it off,” he says. 

You meet his eyes. 

“The ice pack,” he explains. 

You drop it onto your leg, and he takes it and sets it on the rollover table instead. 

“You can come and stay with me for a few days,” he suggests quietly.

“I’ll be okay.” 

“Your mom’s working. I can take the time off.”

You give him a dubious look. “And then you’ll get called away and it’ll be just me and Haley in the house. That won’t be awkward at all.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re hurt. You’re gonna feel dizzy for at least another day, and that’s not thinking about how hard it’s gonna be to breathe for a while. I’ll stay home, and you can get familiar with my guest room.” 

“You don’t have to look after me.” 

“But I want to.” He holds your wrist. “I know we aren’t a conventional father and daughter…” His brow furrows, and he looks at your hand just below his rather than your face. “I want the chance to look after you. How many times were you sick as a kid? Hundreds of times. Mostly colds, a runny nose. Maybe you– maybe you broke your arm, I don’t know. But I wish I did. I owe it to you to take care of you now.” 

You give him a small smile as he raises his head. 

“Just think about it,” he says, “we’ll be here all night anyways.” 

“You can go home.” 

“Don’t be difficult,” he says, his sincerity swapped for teasing as he stand. “I have to go find you something to eat.”

He stoops to give you a warm hug across your shoulders. You should want it to be over quickly, you smell like blood and sick and sweat, your clothes are ruined, and you’re not used to him seeing you like this, but let the feeling of his hand on your back persuade you into closing your sore eyes. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay. I need to do a lap before your mother gets here anyhow. I might… be more unkind than I plan on being, otherwise.” 

You laugh at his half-joke and hurt your face. He is very sorry. 

[mintkookiess]

It started out slow (Miles x fem!reader)

I saw someone post about writing a fic where Miles is cheating on Gwen with us (I reblogged it like before this post) and I just had a surge of "HOLY SHIT LET ME COOK SUMTH" So here we are I made this like straight out of bed at 7 am.

Not proofread as I was hurrying to squeeze the creative juices out of me before it runs out. Hope yall still enjoy!

Love,

Mint

Summary: Miles had garnered a new friend, but didn't know it would cost his relationship, and start a new one.

Tags: Miles x fem!Reader, Miles x Gwen, cheating au, kind of fast paced, idk what else to put here

Word count: 1.7k

It started out slow.

You first saw Miles at a supermarket and thought nothing of it, thinking it’s just the ordinary stranger you see around the city.

But then you suddenly just see him everywhere.

Like fate wanted the both of you to meet so bad.

You were both given so many chances; finding out you sit beside each other in the movie theater? To find both your families eating in the same restaurant? Or you’d see each other at the supermarket again but with a more familiarity and peculiarity at the same time.

So it started out slow.

With the casual curious glances, or catching the other staring then immediately looking away.

When fate has finally had enough, it forced Miles to accidentally pour juice on your white dress in a crowded mall.

“O-Oh crap, I’m so sorry!” Miles had exclaimed, mentally slapping himself for being such a klutz. You hadn’t even minded a bit in the least when it happened, but you did finally get the name of the boy you’ve been seeing everywhere a lot lately.

“I’m uh Miles. Sorry about the juice.”

You had shook your head at the time, a polite smile on your face as you said that it was fine and that he didn’t have to worry about it. You introduced yourself and that was that, you both became friends.

That polite smile of yours had become friendlier.

When you find out you both were neighbors and you spotted him by his apartment building’s entrance with his mom smooching his cheeks as he was ready to leave for school, you couldn’t help but stop and watch in amusement.

He catches your eye and he grows red with embarrassment, you nonchalantly walked towards them as his mom spotted you and asked if you both were friends earning her a nod of affirmation from you.

So suddenly, you’ve been invited to dinner.

And almost every week after that.

What he didn’t tell you though, was that he has a girlfriend, Gwen Stacy.

You didn’t think much of it, since you were content with being friends with Miles, but there were times where you knew your presence was causing a little rift between them.

He had introduced her to you at one point, but the girl was immediately playing in the defense with you, and you weren’t entirely sure why at the time, till you overheard them in his bedroom one day when you decided to help his mom with her groceries.

“I know you like her Miles,”

“Me? Gwen you’re my girlfriend why would I like anyone else?”

“I’m not blind.”

You immediately knew it was about you, because you were the only other friend he had other than Ganke, and you’re a girl.

You didn’t worry about it since you know you haven’t done anything wrong.

Until you both did.

The kiss was magical.

Miles had swung you on top of a building when he told you about his Spiderman identity. He was so excited to tell you, wanting nothing more but to show you a cooler side of his.

The two of you watched the sunset for a few minutes until you both were hyper aware of this strange tension between the two of you.

You thought something was bothering Miles, and he thought the same with you,

“Are you okay?” You both had said simultaneously, but only made the two of you laugh, the sun seemingly making your faces glow a tinge of orange.

It started out slow.

The way his fingertips touched yours, and his smile faded into a more serious look as his hazelnut eyes stared into yours.

You hadn’t even seen it coming, but the next thing you know your lips were enveloped between his. You remember your mind making siren noises, warning you that this was completely wrong.

He has a girlfriend. But the girl he was kissing right now, definitely was not said girlfriend.

And it all went downhill from that.

Or uphill, depending on who’s perspective you’re looking at.

The two of you were awkward after that kiss, not talking to each other for a week, and Mama Rio of course notices this but doesn’t pry.

But when Miles couldn’t take it any longer, he swung to your window and immediately apologized for what he did.

You had apologized too, wholeheartedly, but…

Neither of you regretted it.

You haven’t said that part out loud and neither did he, but you two knew by the way your eyes danced around each other between the silence and darkness of your bedroom.

The next days were full of poor attempts from the both of you to salvage the normalcy of your friendship, but at the same time wanting nothing but to repeat that kiss again.

But the both of you knew you’ve done something terribly wrong.

Miles had been torn ever since, getting extra jumpy whenever Gwen would suddenly appear in his room unannounced, kissing his girlfriend hello but it felt different.

He couldn’t help but compare your lips to hers. Gwen’s lips were so different from yours, from the feeling to the taste, how soft it was, and how much he wanted more of you.

He knew he was being a terrible boyfriend, but fate had different plans for him apparently.

Falling for someone other than his girlfriend was definitely not a part of his life plan, but here he was, back in your bedroom window once Gwen had left.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so freaking sorry.” He had said, before strutting inside with no greeting and immediately grabbing your waist to pull you against him, lips instantly smashing together.

He didn’t know why he was apologizing exactly, there’s so much to be sorry about and he just wanted to say it out loud maybe to feel some sense of humanity. Like he’s showing the world how sorry he actually was but internally wasn’t at all.

This second kiss was more urgent, held more longing from the both of you.

You had held out for as long as you could, but the moment he was on you once more, all that willpower you had mustered to distance yourself from him faded into dust in seconds.

It started going fast.

The way his hands gripped on your hips as the both of you made out in the middle of your bedroom. So many words hung in the air, but neither of you spoke up.

Your arms locked around his neck, your head tilting slightly and he took this as a silent permission to deepen the kiss. Next thing you know he was pushing you down on your bed, hovering above you as his hands started to roam your sides.

That night went by blissfully, being in each other’s arms without a single word being said and just letting your bodies do the talking. You both knew what was happening.

But you two weren’t ready for the consequences.

The next weeks were full of hidden kisses, secret meetups, or whenever Gwen was sure to be in another dimension fixing anomalies.

There wasn’t a day where you had thought of how shitty of a person you were, and the same could be said with Miles. But the heart wants what it wants right? And fate had both your hearts twisted around each other into something that was just too complex to just suddenly cut off.

Miles had tried. He definitely did.

Tried to destroy his feelings for you as he couldn’t handle the guilt. Gwen had known something was up since he was acting strange, but he’d blame it on Spiderman duties. He was still too scared to tell her, not really ready to lose Gwen.

But also wanted so much more of you.

It started to slow down to a halt.

How the time seemed to have stopped, the world stopped turning, and the both of you with the same horrified expression as Gwen stood by the doorframe of his bedroom door, watching as he was positioned above you, hands on the hem of your shirt.

The color seemed to have drained from his face as he scrambled to get out of bed, chasing Gwen out of his apartment and left you in his bed with tears streaming down your face.

It had finally happened, the thing that the two of you were dreading the most.

You stayed seated, covered by his blanket as you leaned against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as more tears fell down silently.

Miles had come back after two hours or so, you couldn’t really tell as you were busy wrapped up in your self-hatred.

He had told you how Gwen broke up with him, and you could tell it was bad by how his eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his nose still sniffing and his lips held a frown you rarely saw on his face.

The two of you didn’t know what to do, but before you could make a decision to distance yourself from him, fate had other plans as he beat you to it.

He wrapped his long arms around you, and the both of you cried that way for the remaining time that the night allowed you until you were sure it was getting quite late.

“Don’t leave me, please.” He had begged, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried his face in your hair. You thought he’d want to push you away for ruining his relationship, but it looks like you thought wrong.

“I need time Miles.” You replied, staining his black shirt with your tears and you felt him nod in silent response. “It’s okay, I’ll wait. No matter how long it takes.”

Soon, it started to move again.

The two of you had ignored each other for months after that, or more like he gave you as much space as you needed. But it was the biggest, fattest mistake you’ve ever made.

You longed for him more than anything despite everything. You know you should be wallowing at how you broke up a relationship, but wanted nothing more to be in his arms once again, and he did too.

You both agreed to meet at the cafe you both had grown accustomed to going to together through the duration of your friendship. You ordered your usual, and he ordered his.

The silence was defeaning, and the noises of the customers around the both of you seemed to have drowned out.

You wanted to say something but as always, Miles beat you to it.

“Can we, start over again?”

And you had nodded, tears forming as a smile danced across your lips. “I’d like that.”

Fin.

Taglist: @ii01vp @laylasbunbunny @missusmorales @fiannee @faeriesberries

(If you want to be on my taglist pls let me know!)

More of my Miles content here babes!

[philaet0s]

Celebrity/Social Media AU - Part 26

Previous Part: Part 25

Next Part: Part 27

back to tweets in the next part!

Simon

A cottage in the middle of the woods. If you’d asked me where I thought Baz was taking me, this would have never been my guess. After spending his entire childhood in a huge, isolated manor, without ever seeing people unless his dad took him to the nearest town, a twenty-minute drive away, let’s say he’s not a fan of secluded places. He likes people and the business of cities.

And he likes luxury hotels. It’s very strange for him to have booked something like this. I ask him about it.

“I’ve been spending my life between the jet and busy cities for the past few months. Reconnecting with nature couldn’t hurt. And you like it, don’t you? I can perfectly picture you frolicing in the garden,” he comments, in a teasing tone, as he looks out the large bay windows that open on ‘the garden’.

That word does not do justice to the large outdoor space this place has. I can’t even see the limits of it from here.

“I am excited to go around the garden,” I answer with a smile.

“I knew it.”

…

Baz has decided that we should have a picnic for lunch. My argument that it’s November, therefore absolutely not the right time of year for a picnic, doesn’t stop him. Neither does my argument that we don’t have any food, and that I was thinking we would rely on delivery services for our trip, as always when we’re away from home. (Right, we do rely on delivery a lot when we’re at home too, but that’s beside the point.)

So there we are. On our way to the nearest grocery store, to get food for our picnic.

Groceries are always a fun experience with Baz. His parents have tons of people working for them, including a cook who is the one doing most of the grocery shopping as he is also the one making most of the meals, and though he has lived alone in the past, a majority of his meals were takeaway or delivery so he never had to worry about groceries then either. Then he had a boyfriend who, as far as he told me, was in charge of food. Now… He has me for that. I’d never trust him with my shopping list.

But, on occasion, I do take him to the shop with me, and I get to watch him walk the aisles like a child in the zoo, marvelling at everything around himself. And putting a shit ton of crap in our cart.

Every word out of my mouth is full of skepticism as I watch the items he grabs. “Do we need four different bars of chocolate?” “It’s November. Why would we buy ice cream? It’s going to melt before we’re back at the cottage anyway.” “You know we can’t survive on sweets only, right?” “We also can’t survive on cheese only.” “You do know that strawberries are not in season, right? Put that back. Here, let’s have some pears if you want fruit.” “Is the hummus really necessary?” “So we’re buying a family-size box of cereal for… 2 days?”

I do put back some of the things he’s added to our cart, but most of it stays. He doesn’t do this often, and it makes him happy. I don’t have the heart to stop him. Besides, it’s not like it’ll go to waste. We’ll bring anything we haven’t eaten here back home.

I’m a little concerned that most of our groceries are not things his dietician would recommend while he’s on tour, but I keep those concerns to myself. I can see him turning my question into a comment about his weight from a mile away. It’s a sensitive spot for him… Which is absurd. He’s put on a few pounds since the beginning of his tour and he’s still slimmer than I’ve been in years. Yet, he never seemed to have issues with my weight. Quite the opposite.

He can have junk food for two days. It’s not like I’m going to tell on him.

As we’re emptying our cart on the belt at checkout, a hesitant voice speaks his name.

I was wondering if that was going to happen.

Surprisingly enough, Baz doesn’t get recognised that often when he’s out and about. Of course, it happens, but far less than what I expected when I met him. He told me it happens more when he’s in the US. Maybe it’s just that a majority of his fans don’t live in the UK.

We both turn to look at the voice. It belongs to a girl, who’s probably only a couple of years younger than us, with her hair bleached so much that it looks white and tons of piercings on her face. Her hair is shaved above her ears and she has tattoos there, that make her look like an elf in a fantasy movie. She’s very pretty.

“Hello, I’m sorry to come onto you like this, I hope I’m not bothering you, I totally understand if this is annoying, but if you don’t mind, could I have a picture with you?”

At least she’s polite. (A bit too polite, the poor girl sounds anxious). Some people don’t even say ‘hello’ before they ask for a picture.

Baz smiles at her kindly. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Alice.”

“Okay.” He turns to me. “Can I let you handle the groceries? It’s almost our turn.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you. Alice, do you want to go outside for that picture? It might look nicer than with those aisles in the background.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I mean, I need to… uh…” She holds up the groceries in her hand. “Pay.”

“Well, then, let’s all pay for our groceries, and then you can have your picture.”

She nods. “Y-Yeah.”

Poor girl. She looks like she might faint.

The lady at checkout looks mildly annoyed with us. With all that chatting, we haven’t finished putting our groceries down and she’s already checked everything else out. We hurry with the rest of our things, then Baz pays. I don’t even argue about it. There was a time when I would have. I don’t like when people pay things for me, but after a while I understood that that was one of the ways in which Baz showed love –I guess that’s what happened when you grow up in a family where you received many gifts but no affection. When I seemed annoyed that he was paying for me again, he would take it very personally. Like it was him I was rejecting and not his offer to spend his money on me.

Besides, he’s rich as hell. He can pay for things.

My contribution is paying for our bills. It makes the most sense since I’m the one who’s at home most of the time, anyway.

We head out of the shop, soon followed by the girl, Alice. She looks incredibly flustered. It’s kind of cute. She clumsily searches for her phone in her tote bag. It’s the sort of behaviour I’m more used to seeing in Baz’s teenage fans.

I offer to take the picture for them, both because it generally looks better than selfies and because that poor girl is so emotional she might not be able to get a good picture. She accepts with a grateful smile, handing me her phone. They pause, I click. Picture taken. Alice thanks me when she takes back her phone, which she quickly drops inside her bag.

“Thank you so much,” she tells Baz, waving her hands in front of her face and blinking fast, like she might cry. “I’m… Sorry, it’s just… I really love your music. It got me through very hard times and I… It’s really a big deal for me. Seeing you. I… If I may take one more minute of your time. I have a tattoo. Inspired by one of your songs. I wanted to show you, if that’s okay.”

“I’d love to see it,” Baz answers.

I wonder how that feels like for him. Someone loving his lyrics so much that they get them tattooed on their body. It’s not a rare occurrence, I see people post their Baz Pitch tattoos on Twitter regularly, but I don’t know if he’s ever seen one in real life. He doesn’t get much interaction with his fans.

Alice pulls up the sleeve of her coat and top to show Baz the inside of her forearm. There, she has a broken violin tattooed, and from what I can see, lyrics from his song Precipice. It’s from the album of Baz’s I listen to the least –Portrait of the Artist as a Madman– because it was written when he was at a very low point in his life and the feelings he expresses in it always make me tear up after a song or two.

“That is not my most cheerful song,” Baz comments, almost teasingly.

“I love your sadder songs more. You have a way of describing feelings and experiences in just a few words that is so… raw and real, but lyrical at the same time. Some of your songs could be poems, it’s… brilliant.”

“Some of my songs were written as poems.”

“I know! I study English at university and the first time I heard In Fairness I lost my mind, I had to listen to it a second time immediately to make sure I wasn’t going crazy and that you had written a song in iambic pentameter! It’s a prowess, really, that you were capable of taking that poetic form and putting it to song, and it’s such a lovely homage to the tradition of poetry and singing being intertwined. And it was such a risk! That’s an unusual way of putting stress in a sentence, it gives an odd rhythm to the song, but… it works so well. And… I talked too much. I’m so, sorry. I’ll leave you now. Thank you so much for your time, it was absolutely brilliant getting to chat with you.”

“Hey, slow down. You just gave me all these compliments and you’re going to walk away without giving me a chance to thank you?”

She flushes.

“I’m very touched to see how much you seem to appreciate my art, and I’m glad you were so impressed by my… bold songwriting decision on In Fairness. The general opinion on that song is that it’s terrible, so it’s quite pleasant hearing someone say something positive about it.”

Oh, to hear Baz talk about his music. I must have the same adoring look on my face as Alice…

Simon and Baz going grocery shopping is actually so special to me, I’ve written so many scenes of then at the grocery shop lol (it’s because I’m obsessed with grocery shops)

[b3rrymilks]

𝖊𝖞𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖙

synopsis ; THIS ENTIRE FIC IS BASED FROM https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Rm5pDA/ (slide 9) PLS READ IT BEFORE READING!! ALL CREDS TO @/candle.wishes ON TT. pt 2

story note ; pure angst. no happy ending. violence, nearing character death. // i added the fact reader got bit by a radioactive spider that only gave them the super strength and ability to stick to walls. no spidey senses.

authors note ; this isn’t proofread, and it’s rushed ☹️ sauryy but I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THIS WHEN MY FRIEND SENT IT TO ME ON TIK TOK! ART CRED : thokzu on tt

pairing ; miles morales (e!42) x fem!reader

LOOK INTO MY EYES.

🕷️. “get up, it’s time.” you’d heard your uncle say. he had pushed your legs from the relaxed position they were propped in. “now?? it’s like 1 am” you squinted at the red analog clock. “stop complaining and get ready, we need to hit this bank before they open.” you uncles cold voice had told you to stop asking questions and to hurry up and get ready.

your uncle was the leader in these big plans, but after recent fuck ups, you were taken from the main plan.

“but why??” you asked, holding your arms out in a confused manner. “because you can’t hold your own, we need you out of the actual action.” your uncle replied, ignoring your presence. “but it’s never been my fault, it’s always—“ your uncle had completely shut your statement down. “but but but? you have YET to complete something i ask you to do. you fail at every little thing. you’re not ready.” he had nearly yelled at you.

your family has been doing this for years, it was only recently when “the prowler” had began disrupting your part of the plans. even though you tried to tell your family it wasn’t your fault the plans went to shit, they never believed you. a week ago, you’d gotten bitten by a strange spider while scoping out the bank. you brushed it off as you were in the middle of escaping the authorities.

you’d gotten an intense increasing to your strength, surpassing your uncle.

the plan went active tonight.

“don’t fuck this up.” your brother warned you before leaving to his role in this. “alright, once your mother hacks the cams and alarm system, we’re in. y/n you’re on lookout. make sure no one catches wind of what we’re doing, got it?” you rolled your eyes at the fact you were lookout, and that your brother took your spot in assisting your uncle with breaking in. “yeah whatever.” you replied through the radio.

minutes of silence passed, it felt like the smallest move and your entire presence would be exposed. perching on the building for lookout, the alarms and cams had finally been hacked. “they’re down, now!” your mother announced through the radio. you watched as your uncle and brother entered the bank. “you only have about 8 minutes before the alarms reactivate and give away what’s happening here, we need to—.” the static had interrupted your moms voice, but before you could take action, a heavy blow came to your stomach.

rolling from the impact, you quickly caught yourself and stood upwards.

“you didn’t think i’d let this go by unnoticed did you?” his voice was changed by the mask he wore.

that stupid mask that he always wore. the holo eyes were slanted, and a light purple color.

“i’m so fucking sick of you!” you yelled at him before charging towards him.

you two both collided by trading punches. yours weren’t as strong due to the heavy hit you’d just taken. sharp pains had shot through your stomach. the adrenaline hadn’t kicked in yet, leaving you in pain.

“i’m not letting you continue this life of crime you seek, not here.” he spoke between every punch he threw. every attack you threw at him, he saw it coming.

you didn’t give up. eventually, his attacks had gotten sloppy, signaling he was tiring himself out. you two had gotten closer to each other, more hits connecting and blood had been drawn.

“just give up already,” he spoke again, watching you catch your breath. in his eyes, he saw your mask was ripped, catching light of your face. little by little.

glaring at him, you’d observed that there were cracks in his mask. “you’re never going to—“ you were sick of his constant mocking, talking and presence in general.

charging at him again, you’d tackled him and took hold of his neck. the adrenaline had finally come, and the pain was now gone. you straddled his waist, pressing your fingers against his esophagus. “i’m so sick of you belittling me. just like everyone in my family.” you seethed at him, watching air slowly leave his body. his claws held onto your wrists, tapping them profusely. “i’m not letting you go this time.” you began laying heavy blows to his mask, feeling it break.

your knuckles had began bleeding. blood hit the ground as you kept punching him, over and over again. you weren’t giving up, he attempted to reach up to your mask, reaching for the remains of it.

as the glass of his mask began to break, it exposed each feature, one at a time. first it cracked near his eyes. brown eyes.

then it began to crack near his nose. his nostrils were flared due to the pain he was enduring.

upon one final blow, the mask had finally completely broken. holding up your fist, preparing for one last blow, you took a look at the boy that had been ruining everything for you.

the claws had now broken, falling to the ground as he held up his hands in defense. his eyes were nearly swollen. blood had trailed down from his nose. his lips were bloodied. his face was decorated with cuts, all which were seeping blood. you relaxed your grip on his throat.

he had began inhaling large amounts of air, as you had completely frozen. he had finally peeled off your mask, revealing your face.

“wh— no, no no no no.” you silently wished it was all just a dream. this couldn’t possibly happen.

you watched miles struggle to breathe, struggle to open his eyes fully, struggle to even move.

“miles?”

“y/n?” through coughs, and broken breaths he still managed to speak.

the boy you dearly wanted to protect. the boy you went to school with. the boy that you always wanted to see in your spare time, the boy you loved. the boy you lived next to, was nearly dead from your hands.

you got up, quickly backing up. everything in your head began spinning. the pain had nearly caught up with you, throbbing had come to your head. you watched him hold his side, still coughing.

“no, no.” was the phrase you kept repeating, over, over and over again. “please.” you begged.

3 HOURS LATER.

you hid in your room, lights off, in complete darkness. hugging your knees close to your chest. the light suddenly turned on, and your uncle and brother came in. “what happened to you?? you almost ruined the entire—“ finally stopping the scolding, he had seen how injured you were. cuts and bruises blemished your skin, and your knuckles. “what happened to you?” the question had more emotion tied to it, as he kneeled down to touch you.

flinching from his touch, you remained quiet. “do you wanna tell me what happened?”

whenever you closed your eyes, all you could see was miles’ bloodied face. before you knew it was him, whenever you closed your eyes, you’d see his smile.

you trembled under anyone’s touch. the pain had died down, leaving you with sudden shots of pain every now and then. you hadn’t washed the blood from your body. you’d raise your shaking, cut open, bloody hands to show yourself what you did to the person you cared the deepest for.

“it was miles.” you silently whispered.

[musutofu]

【 I’ll Be Gone 】

♡ pairing | Dabi x ᶠᴱᴹ Reader

✑ word count | 2.1k

✎ genre | angst

✗ warnings | absentee father!Dabi

The passcode is still his birthday. 0-1-1-8. There was a moment of hesitancy before the light flickered to green, beeping its quiet acquiescence as he ducks inside the apartment. The hall light blinks awake with a dull click, washing the entryway in a wave of stark white light. It stings after spending the night walking aimlessly, wearing at the soles of his shoes as he waded through the dark underbelly of the city. Abandoned shops with sun bleached newspapers covering the cracked windows, alleyways crowded with refuse, and sidewalks littered with shards of glass. The city has nearly been brought to heel, the horizon standing half decimated as the yellowish blue glow of light pollution traces out the shapes of hollowed out buildings slipping from their foundations. Cars still sit in the streets, doors hung open and windows shattered, some dented and dusted with rubble where the city began to collapse around it. 

The streetlights hardly lit anything. Tall poles serving to mark each mile he’d wandered as the fluorescents hummed a fading song overhead, moths crowding around the few spots of light that hadn’t been lost when the city went to shit. It’s his fault, he knows. Partially, anyway. He played his own cards in the hand that threatened to level a piece of the country and he was proud of it. He’d gotten what he wanted. At least a fraction of it. But what was that worth now? There was still more to do, another plan to enact, but now he finds himself content to toe off his boots in the light of a home that will never be his. 

He’s comfortable enough in it though. After spending so many nights here there’s a gentle wave of nostalgia that colors the familiar smell that permeates the apartment. He’s glad for it. It doesn’t smell like rot and decay, doesn’t carry the scars that marr the rest of the city. These few blocks had narrowly escaped the chaos that unfolded just a short walk away. He hadn’t thought to worry about it at the time but now he’s grateful. There’s hardly anything he cares about in this life. Not even himself. But the two people that call this place home will always be important to him. It isn’t love. He can’t bring himself to imagine what that would feel like. But he feels obligated. The one thing he’s always been good for is dedication, determination. He won’t let this be the one place he lets that falter. 

The hall light clicks out as he wanders further inside, past the door he should open to the one he knows he shouldn’t. It’s cracked slightly, a pale thread of blue light glowing from within. Little blue stars dot across the ceiling, keeping the room from complete darkness. Just enough light to see the baby sleeping soundly in his crib. The tiny thing he is even after all these months, though bigger than he remembers. His face has more shape now, too, features beginning to fully form. Tufts of snow-white hair blanket his little head as pale lashes flutter softly as he dreams. So strange, he thinks, that this little person could look so much like him. The baby’s mother had always called him pretty. Not that he ever believed her. It was hard to see beauty in a face that was scarred and held together with metal and vengeance. He couldn't die yet. Couldn’t succumb to the deterioration his Quirk was causing. Even his body knew he shouldn’t be here, but he had things he needed to do before he turned to ash. None of which included his son that had those same eyes that he did. 

His fingers are rough but he wants to touch, to be sure this isn’t a dream. It’s selfish to want it to be real but he’s never been a particularly altruistic person. He’s here because he wants to be. He walked all this way. Impulsive as it was, he isn’t going to draw the line at something so simple.  

“I’ll leave soon.” He says, hardly a whisper but his voice is so fried that he can hardly speak above a gravely drawl without shouting. He feels her watching him, heard her wake and move down the hall. There’s a board in the hall that creaks. He’d skipped it as he slipped past her room but he heard her coming. Her shadow lingers in his periphery as he traces his fingertips across his son’s cheek. His skin is like a dumpling. Round and warm. The baby stirs at last and he expects tears, a warbled cry to break out as his eyes settle on the monster leaning over his crib. Instead, he sneezes, hard enough to scrunch his whole body. It’s probably the ash that seems to follow him everywhere but when he tries to pull his hand away the baby follows, tiny fingers wrapping around his pinkie. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” She says at last. Her voice is thick with exhaustion, low and warm and familiar in a way he wishes it wasn’t. He could get lost in it, in her. But he has things he needs to do. 

“I know.” He wants to pick the baby up, to hold his son just for a moment. “I’ll leave soon.” She sighs but doesn’t tell him to get out. They’ve reached an impasse with these things. If she wanted him gone she could fight him. Kick and scream and wake her neighbors and call the police. Instead, she resigns herself to the chair in the corner, drawing a blanket around herself. If she didn’t want him here she would’ve changed the door code. It’s still his birthday. 0-1-1-8. It used to be something different. Something he never bothered to remember. But he woke her up one too many times banging on her door in the early hours of the morning when the sky was still dark and his pounding fists would wake the whole floor if she wasn’t quick enough. But it’s still his birthday. He wouldn’t have raised hell tonight. If the little light had turned red and denied him entry he would’ve walked away. Probably for the last time. It would be all the closure he’d get from all this. Certainly more than he’d deserve. If he were a better man he wouldn’t need closure. He’d be here. With her. With him. But he’s never been a good man. 

“Bring him here.” She says when the baby begins to squirm, screwing his face up again like he’s going to sneeze but he begins to cry instead. But never lets go of his father’s finger. Father. He hates the word. Feels disgusted by it, unworthy of it. Even still it’s what he is. Some truths can never be denied. The past won’t be forgotten and the present won’t be ignored. The baby is as wriggly as a snake trying to squirm loose from his arms as he carries him to his mother. She tucks him into the blanket with her, lifting her shirt to let him eat. He shouldn’t but he can’t stop himself from noticing that the shirt must’ve been his. Stolen and old, it’s loose at the neck and the letters have been faded by too many washes. It hangs too big on her frame as she lifts it away to feed his son. It’s wholly mesmerizing in a way he can’t place. And if she minds his staring she doesn’t mention it. 

He expected that much at least. He’s seen her in various states of undress but this feels entirely more intimate than he deserves to see. But he’s nothing if not selfish. His eyes watch his son as he nuzzles against his mother’s skin, slowly falling back to sleep with the rocking of the chair as he eats. He knows the routine. The bouncing and burping before laying him back in his crib. The sleepy little noises that gurgle from his son pluck at something inside him, long buried and forgotten. So much so that he can’t even place the feeling. He turns away and comes face to face with his child’s mother. She looks beautiful and he can’t help but hate that he thinks so. Ratty shirt and tied-up hair, tired bruises beneath her eyes. She looks like a mother. A single one at that. And she is. But she still looks too pretty for him to look away. Every time he sees her it might be the last and he doesn’t want to waste a moment feigning disinterest when it’s painfully obvious he can’t stay away. Something about her will always pull him back. He doesn’t want there to be there. Shouldn’t be. He’s above attachment in every instance except for this. What reason could he possibly have for falling back to her like she’s the gravity keeping him center? 

He looks over her again, willing himself to see her as something expendable now that she’s lost her newness. But he’s never been able to be rid of her the way he could toss aside anyone else. She frowns at his staring, fingers playing at the tattered hem of her shirt as she rolls her weight nervously on the balls of her feet. She has no reason to feel so anxious in front of him. She’s the one with the future. All he has is the here and now and he hates to admit that he’s happy to be here with her. He doesn’t deserve the feeling. Not after all he’s done. But she lets him. Maybe that makes her just as bad as him but he can’t bring himself to see her as anything other than perfect. 

“I’ll leave soon.” He promises but doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to leave yet. He wants to be here with her. It’s why he walked all this way. For these stolen moments where he can be greedy in a way he’ll never deserve. She accepts his kiss when he leans in, wondering if she cares that he tastes like blood where his lip is split. She’s just as terrible as he is. Being with him, having his child. But it’s a different kind of terrible. Where he’s self absorbed she is generous. Of course she doesn’t mind the blood. This isn’t the first time he’s come to her in such a battered state. And like always she holds him together. Maybe that’s why he came tonight. The battle ended days ago but he felt himself unwinding, coming loose at the seams. But if he sank any lower into insanity he’d lose sight of his purpose. So here he is to let her stitch his mind back together. She’s seen parts of him he can’t even remember. His memory is a tarnished mess of black holes where the trauma wouldn’t let him see. She’ll never be as awful as him. Not when she’s the only one that cares enough to hold him together. 

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?” He asks. It’s another act of selfishness. Wanting to know if she can truly see past him. See a life where he’s not in it. 

“I don’t know.” They both know it’s a lie. But it’s a good one. It’s what he wanted to hear. 

“I’ll have to leave soon. And I don’t think I’ll be back.” He could never stay away. Even when he tried he found himself watching her from afar. But this time will be different. He’ll be gone forever. He thinks of his son and hopes he’ll never know he had a father. It’ll be better that way. 

“Where are you going?” She asks. To hell, he wants to say. To some unending flame that will burn him for eternity. Or maybe there’ll be nothing and his mind will fully unwind at last. 

“I don’t know. But it’ll be far away from here.”

“I’ll visit.” She hums. “I’ll find you. Every January.” She walks him to the door, hand tight in his, and kisses him after he tugs his boots back on. 

“Good luck, Touya.” She sounds happy as she closes the door but she isn’t quick enough to hide the wetness growing in her eyes. He leaves her crying and thinks about going back inside. But he doesn’t know how to comfort her when he’s the one that caused all this in the first place. 

This time he’s certain that if he ever goes back the passcode will be changed. 

[thebennettdiaries]

the oak king (ii)

( directly follows this drabble )

Bonnie takes a deep breath, feeling her defenses come to life. She wishes that she could be miles away from this city, with its concrete and metal. In nature she is stronger; she can pull from the ground, from the air. Without that (and after spending the day using her magic throughout the city), she will have to make do with what she has.

(she just has no idea if it is enough for him)

She remembers where she was when she heard he had died. Mystic Falls had been in her past but that didn't mean it still didn't reach out to touch her. She is forever connected to that place, the events there leaving a scar. Every now and then, it aches. The night he died, it had practically burned.

It had been an end of an era.

Only apparently, she has been wrong to think that particular chapter is closed.

She braces herself, ready for anything he might do. Instead he stands there, just outside of her room (just outside of her space). His eyes never leave her face and it feels as if he is tracing every line that pulls it together. She forces herself to stand still under his gaze, refusing to back down (she has never backed down to him but strangely enough this is the first time she has the slightest inkling to do so). Finally, his eyes move over her shoulder. "Your bath is overflowing."

Bonnie's head swivels and she can see the water seeping across the floor. "Shit," she mutters and she misses the way his eyebrow arches. She is caught between not wanting to turn her back to him entirely and ensuring that she doesn't get charged for any damages when she checks out. Her work is good work but it does not fill her bank account full.

"Go on, little witch," Klaus urges with a swipe of his hand. "I can wait."

Bonnie decides to take the chance. She tells herself this isn't about the water, it is about feeling him out. Seeing what the tone of this evening is going to be. She moves quickly to turn the facets off and throw down a towel on the floor. She gives the remnants of her bath a look, wishing that she could just crawl in and forget this moment ever happened.

(yet another Christmas wish denied it seems)

She is about to turn back to him when she sees herself reflected in the water. She smiles. Tons and tons of concrete but here is one of earth's purest substances pooled in front of her. She can't resist leaning down, letting her eyes flutter close as she dips her fingers in the hot water. She calls on it, letting the element fill her, recharge her --- ready her for the battle that she is about to enter.

When she leaves the bathroom with wet socks, he gives her a curious look. "I see you still have your fighting spirit," Klaus comments, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I am glad --- I had worried that you would be changed in my time away."

"Is that what we are calling it?" Bonnie asks. There is laughter in her voice. She has imbibed a great deal of magic quickly. It is a bit intoxicating. "Your time away --- you mean when you were dead?"

Klaus shifts uncomfortably. "Yes, when I was dead."

Bonnie squints at him, still rooted to the spot she found him in. She wonders why he hasn't tried anything. Why is he just standing there? If they are to fight, she just wants it over with. But since he isn't biting (literally) she will have to settle with conversation instead. "And why aren't you still dead?" It is an obvious question and she wonders if he even has the answer to it.

Klaus' eyebrows furrow together and he looks genuinely confused. "Because of you, Bonnie."

She mirrors his expression. "Come again?"

"Because of you," he repeats. "You are the one that brought me back."

[jxtina-86]

The Meet Cute

Roman thumbs through his phone, flicking from emails to social media to some dumb-ass game. He stifles a yawn, his gaze drifting across the airport lounge.

It's late, a handful of flights left to depart and the airport is slowly shutting down around him. His eyes fall back to his phone, his thumb hovering for a second before he taps the app icon.

There's a new message from the woman he'd matched with a few days ago. He ignores it, the chat so far has been dry. He needs to let her down gently, he can't risk just ghosting her, but he hasn't got the right words to tell her right now.

Instead, he starts to flick through the various profiles. He barely pauses on each one before swiping left. Again. Again. Again. He's not sure why he's doing this. He's out of here in less than 30 minutes. What's the point?

His thumb halts as he spots the distance on the next profile. 1 mile. He wonders if - he checks the name - Katherine is as bored as he is. He glances around but all he can see are guys in business casual.

He flicks through her photos - she's got the classics nailed, the hiking photo, a snap with a dog, a group of friends, in a bar holding a cocktail. But the last one, makes him stop. It's a black-and-white professional photo. She's leaning against a wall staring down the lens. Her long hair cascades over one shoulder, her arms crossed in front of her. Hooked on one finger is the arm of a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, dangling delicately.

Roman thumbs her profile - 28, writer.

You'll usually find me lounging in my favorite sweatpants, typing away on my laptop, and sipping on a cup of coffee that's probably gone cold by now. I'm all about keeping things low-key and having a good laugh along the way.

"Flight 968 to Tampa is now boarding at gate 4A."

He shuts the app without swiping either way.

The flight looks pretty empty judging by the minimal activity at the gate. As he hands over his boarding pass, the staff member does a double-take.

"My son's a huge fan," she tells him. "Would you mind...?"

Roman obliges, signing the blank boarding pass she hands him.

She taps on the computer. "Let me upgrade you, business is looking empty and I reckon you'd appreciate the extra leg-room."

"That's very kind of you," he tells her, chuckling as she blushes. "Thank you."

With his new boarding pass in hand, he makes his way down the gangway and onto the plane. Out of the 20 seats in business, only 9 are occupied. He checks his seat number - 4A.

As he steps forward he realises that 4B is occupied, a nest of dark hair just peeking above the seat but as he nears more of the occupant's face appears and he frowns as it seems strangely familiar.

"Sorry," he says he lifts his carry-on into the overhead locker. "I'm in the window-seat."

"No worries." She gathers her stuff - a laptop, notebook, pen - and stands to move into the aisle so he can get past. He catches her eye as he does. He knows her, but from where?

As they both settle back down, he gives her a sideways glance and then looks away so she can't see the look of realisation that suddenly dawns on him.

Shit.

Katherine tugs down the glasses from her hair as she opens her laptop back up. She can feel the stranger next to her looking but when she glances in his direction, he's staring out of the window, his baseball cap pulled down.

She inhales deeply, her mind switching back to her laptop but only briefly. Damn, this guy smells divine. The luxury of whatever he's wearing drifts over her. She's never been this lucky before, usually she's stuck next to an overbearing, sweaty businessman in a suit one size too small. This guy is in black sweats, the only sign of anything business like is his watch that gleams under the harsh cabin lighting.

"Champagne?" A member of cabin crew hovers over her, offering a glass. Katherine accepts.

"And for you, sir?"

Her seat-mate doesn't respond.

"Sir?"

"Hey," Katherine taps his arm softly.

"Huh?" Roman looks up. "Sorry, no. Actually, yeah why not."

He accepts the glass and takes a long drink.

She's pushed the glasses back up on top of her head, he notices. The loose sleeve of her sweatshirt slips back as she raises the champagne flute, revealing a delicate tattoo around her wrist.

She catches his eyes as she drinks and raises her other hand to her face. "Have I got something..."

"No, sorry, ignore me."

"Hard to when you keep staring at me."

"Shit," he exhales. "This is awkward."

"Less awkward than it already is," she replies and he wonders if that was a grimace or a smirk that dashes across her lips.

"I saw your profile. On Tinder."

There's a pause.

"You scroll Tinder in airports?" she raises an eyebrow.

"Clearly you do too, given it said you were less than a mile away."

She has the good grace to blush. "Touche..."

"Roman," he extends his hand.

"Katherine," she replies, letting his fingers curl over hers.

"I know," he chuckles and she rolls her eyes with a grin.

"So did you swipe right or left?"

Roman squirms slightly. "Neither. They called the gate."

"Good save."

"What do you write?"

Katherine's eyes narrow slightly. "You read my profile?"

"The first bit. Like I said, they called the gate."

"How far did you read?"

Roman frowns for a second. "Something about sweatpants, laptop and cold coffee."

"I write books. Novels."

"Anything I would know?"

Katherine laughs. "You don't strike me as someone who reads romance novels."

"Hey, don't judge a book by its cover," he winks. "But no, you're right. I don't."

"What do you read?"

Roman shrugs. "Not much. I don't get the time."

"What do you do?"

"Take a guess. I reckon that romance-novelist brain of yours can concoct a good backstory for me."

A slow smile spreads across Katherine's face. "You know what this is called? In my world that is?"

"Tell me."

"A meet cute."

----

A/N: Taking it back to the start. I'm writing these on the fly. It's almost 1am and I have to be up in 5 hours and I cannot get these two out of my head. If anyone has any requests (first date thoughts, spicy book scenes you want recreating between Katherine and Roman) send them my way. Photos of Roman making suggestive glances are also welcome.

[writingcold]

Fireside

Thank you goes out to @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine for creating this moodboard and the tip of the hat for using it as inspiration. This was going to be a smutty, smutty mess at first, but, alas - it's a strange, fluffy concoction. There's nothing to really warn about other than a few sexual references, a tiny amount of alcohol, but mostly just stupid shit and of course, bad language and grammar. Sorry for the typos - this is barely edited.

Pairing: Jake x fem reader insert

Word Count: approx 5700

Work had been an absolute nightmare.  Your tyrant boss had been trying to revoke the approval of your vacation time, but the HR angels sheltered you.  They were fast to point out that your vacation had already been ‘postponed’ three times in the past fourteen months.  Not to mention, you had only used a few actual sick days during that time.  The fact that the fucker paid you well was no excuse to expect you not to be a human being and actually want time off.  

      You had your bag packed and waiting by the door of your apartment.  All you had to do was shed your work clothes, shove some food in your face, send a text to Jake that you were on your way, and hit the road.  You had a three hour drive ahead of you.  Cell service was spotty in the area of the cabin, so you could only hope that he remembered to turn the booster on inside - but even then, service was iffy at best.  You put on your most favoritest playlist that will keep you awake for the drive.  Windows down, wind in your hair, and coffee at your side, you depart.

     Josh’s “traffic was a bitch” voice is pumping through your head only twenty minutes into the ride.  It seems everyone had decided to leave town all at the same time, and the scheduled summer road construction has barfed all over your route.  You are barely idling forward for miles.  You glance at your phone when you are once again at a standstill.  Jake texted to be careful. You scold yourself.  You knew you should have let him come into the city and then drive you both out the next day.  You could have had drinks at that new bar down the street and supper at the diner.  You could have caught up nicely in the quiet of your apartment.  However, it did not make sense to have him drive hours to your place when the cabin was essentially the halfway point between your home and his landing spot in Nashville.      

     You are more than an hour behind when you finally make the turn that would take you on the winding county roads that snaked up through the hills and forest.  And it was dark.  So fucking dark.  The kind of dark when you may have your brights on, but you are still straining to see.  You fight off the urge to lay into the gas pedal, despite your tardiness; despite your urgency to get to your destination.  It has been weeks since you’ve seen your mate.  He has been on the road with a tour while you toiled away at your 9-5 job.  The idea of quitting the job tickles and prickles at the back of your thoughts, but in truth, you are too independent to throw your work to the wind and give up many of the comforts that the paycheck has afforded you.

      A flash of eyes at the side and you hit the brakes just as a deer steps onto the shoulder.  The doe stares at your headlights as your heart pounds, hoping upon hope that you can bring your car to a stop before striking it.  Without a care, she strolls across, stopping every few steps like she knows you are trying to get somewhere where a very handsome man is waiting for you.  A second doe strolls out of the ditch, following her friend.

      Out of frustration, a whole conversation breaks out in your mind as the damnable beasts linger in the road, staring you down like you had nothing better to do… 

Deer 1: “Oh look, Heidi - looks like she’s on a mission.”

Deer 2: “Hmmmmmm… Booty call for sure.”  

Deer 1: “What’s the rush, sweetheart?  Oooo - look Heidi!  The paint is sooo shiny when her lights hit it.  Makes me think those mushrooms were a bit wonky…  But it looks so pretty!  So many colors…”

Deer 2: “Wow.  Never thought reflective paint could be so shimmery...”

Deer 1:  “I bet her guy’s - gender neutral of course - ass is that sparkly - but in that weird human pasty kind of way.”

    **You honk the horn in an effort to startle them away.  Frustration bubbles in your core, threatening to boil over the longer these animals are in the road.  The bigger of the two does raises her head up and looks directly at you and you can swear, the bitch is throwing sass your direction.**

Deer 1: “Bitch, please.”

Deer 2: “You know, them ferns over there looking pretty good, Frannie.”

Deer 1: “Honk that metal coffin at me…  Lord.  Maybe you shouldn’t be in such a rush to get railed.”

     **You growl.  You literally growl as the two does finally get over to the other side of the road.  You slowly ease off the break and move to press the accelerator only to have one jump back into the road.  You slam the break with a frustrated howl.**

Deer 2: “Ha!  Gotcha!”

Deer 1:  “You so funny, Heidi.  Did you see those eyes pop!  I thought they were gonna come out of her damn head.  Come on.  Whoever she’s gettin’ too probably doesn’t look much better than an ass end of a moose.”

      You are pretty sure that they are laughing at you as they trail away.  Aside from a very imaginary, snarky conversation between two deer, you regroup and ease back into a good pace.  You are totally out of coffee and water and your bladder is next to complain.  You are still ninety minutes from the cabin.  You take a side step, heading for a little country store in hopes that it did not close early.  A few miles to the east and the store comes into sight.  Most would chalk it up as too scary to stop. It may be a shack on the outside, with dim lighting across the four space parking lot, complete with a buzzing, half functioning sign that left one to wonder if anyone who went into the establishment came back out with all of their appendages; however, this was a place you knew well.  You bounce out of the car and wave at the couple behind the counter as you head straight for the restroom.  

      Relieved, you loop around to the coffee stand and fix yourself another cup of your favorite hot beverage.  You grab a water bottle before heading up to the register.  You also spot some of Jake’s favorite little treats, fresh made and smiling at you.  Exchanging pleasantries with the owners, you smile as you leave with a little wave.  You check your phone before you start the engine.  Two hours late.  A slow, shredded ‘fuck’ leaves your mouth through your teeth, past your lips and into the world.  There are three texts from Jake - all just checking in - all three cool tempered and ranging from four to twelve words each.  You text him that you are at Spencer's store and getting back on the road.  You turn on a heavier playlist in hopes of keeping your wits about you.  The next stretch was a meandering thread through curves with the woods nearly right up against both sides of the road and sheer drop off bluffs that would take you higher into the hills.  You knew it well enough, but it always was a bit off putting to know no one - nobody existed along the stretch of dense state forest.  

      The closer to the cabin you get, the more relaxed you are.  You are belting out one of your favorite songs into the void.  Jake is only forty minutes away.  Yup.  40.  You can do this.  The little spark in your core sits up as you allow yourself to picture him waiting with beer in hand, a smirk on those lush lips that would welcome you home.  You know the first few days would be an absolute frenzy of sex and closeness and more sex and more togetherness.  Yeah… it was the shit you currently lived for…

      “Son of a bitch!”  you scream out as you slam on the breaks.

      A porcupine is fucking meandering down the middle of the road in no hurry at all.  You can picture it even singing as it moves along.

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo     You curse - out loud and loudly as the creature swerves left to right and back again completely oblivious to your existence.  You dare not roll the car forward and squish the poor beast.  What kind of a person are you for even thinking that?  Fuck.  Come on.  This is worse than the fucker with the Stop/Slow sign that is bored standing there directing traffic and decides to cause a little fuckery to brighten their day by being super fast with their power hungry sign management skills.    

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo

    OK - this is getting ridiculous.  You are less than 40 minutes away from the sexiest man on the entire planet.  He is waiting for you.  Are you really going to let this stupid creature get in your way?

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo

     Motherfucker.  Did that thing really just turn and cackle at you?  Maybe.  You narrow your eyes as it begins to skitter off in what may be the ditch… Nope.  Back to the center of the road.

Porcupine: Dooopa dooooda doooopa doooopie dooooooooOOOOoooOOoooo

    You are practically pounding the steering wheel with anxious fingertips.  Out of nowhere, a huge bird swoops down and nearly hits your windshield.  You scream and flinch like the damn thing is going to rip you out of the car and carry you away.  The porcupine has suddenly made a mad dash to safety; his stupid little song silenced.  Collecting yourself, you make a mental note that you are going to have the biggest, stiffest drink known to man the moment you arrive at the cabin.  No ifs.  No ands.  No fucking buts about it.  Whatever was in the damn air that was making this drive abnormally weird certainly did not have the best intentions towards you.

     Taking a sip of your once scalding hot beverage, you chance it and down it as it’s that magic temp where it only is perfect for a time window that only god and physics people can figure out but can’t create to stay that way for longer than twenty seconds.  You tuck your mug back into its spot and readjust in your seat just as a particularly lovely ditty comes on - all heavy guitars and banging lyrics.  You find yourself screeching out at the top of your lungs as you relax, foot pressed a little harder on the gas than you knew you should, but damn - you were less than thirty minutes away from your sex god demon boyfriend and you could give a shit if something…

      You pull your foot back as a shadow creeps at the edge of the road several car lengths ahead.  It is startling.  You can’t figure out what the hell it was - just big and dark, matching the midnight of the sky.  There it was again - movement. All shadowy and spooky - just on the fringe ahead…  Your eyes narrow.  Your whole focus is on that shadow as you crawl your car forward.  You hope like hell it’s not like some crazy stupid forest monster that was going to disappear your ass.  At the same time you’re too scared to actually fully stop the vehicle in the case that it is some forest cryptid that is going to eat your face off and drag you into the nether never to be seen again.  You see the shadow again, this time it’s like it’s lurking.  You pull the wheel to maneuver the car further into the on-coming lane and decide to floor it.  It’s probably just a bear, but to be safe, you just gun that damn engine and take off like a shot.  Your heart is pounding and your eyes refuse to focus on anything but the road ahead of you.  

      Finally…  FINALLY you arrive at the turn for the drive back to the cabin.  The driveway is just over three quarters of a mile, leading you back into the woods, winding up a hill that you dare not navigate during the winter.  The cabin is all lit up on the inside, sending a warm, orange glow across the soft roll of the hill and splashing through the tree trunks and ferns that made up the front yard.  You pull in next to Jake’s truck, cutting the engine off and sitting for a long moment.  Never had you ever had such a ride like the one you just experienced.  Traffic.  Possessed animals.  Or was it more like you are just being too desperate to get to this hill and your man that every little bump turned into fucking mountains that felt like you had to scale them in truly strange, horrific fashion.

      Your eyes skate over the kitchen window, hoping that perhaps he was standing waiting, watching for you.  Instead, no shadow passes the paned glass.  You grab a garbage bag and shove your remnants of the drive into it before sliding out and righting yourself under the velvet night.  The void of fellow humans fills you.  It’s all crickets and frogs and breeze through the poplars and birch and oak and pines that welcomes you home.  Yanking your bag from the backseat and tossing your garbage in the bin, you move towards the door.  Inside is small, but cozy.  The kitchen bleeds into the dining and living rooms with windows everywhere.  The soft textures meet the rough in just the right balance that makes you sigh, knowing that you are safe and warm.  

      You call out for him, but there’s no answer.  You drop your bag in the loft bedroom, a grin passing your mouth at the sight of his own stuff haphazardly tossed around and set out for the extended week to come.  You duck back downstairs, catching sight of a flicker in the backyard.  Taking a moment, you look out to see the silken amber glow and soft shadowing of a campfire dancing against the tree trunks.  You can just make out Jake’s form, sitting in one of the adirondack chairs, his guitar across his lap, leg stretched out and resting against the large stones of the fire pit.  A wave of comfort washes over you as you descend down into the basement to the walkout that would lead you directly to him.  

      Softly closing the screen door behind you, you are wrapped in the soft strumming of his playing and the pops and crackles of the fire.  He glances over his shoulder, his eyes searching for you.  The corner of his mouth tugs as you approach.  He sets the guitar to the side before standing to greet you.  Without warning, you latch onto him, pressing your body flush to his, your mouth landing against his in a sinful, needy kiss.  He is quick to wrap his arms around you, hands brushing against your waist before folding up against your back.  A deep rumble bubbles from his chest as he allows you to lean into him.  One of your hands lands against the stubble on his cheek while the other pushes into his hair.  You find yourself intoxicated instantly from his touch; his taste; his presence.  

      “Damn, I missed you,”  he whispers as he draws in a breath.  “I was starting to worry.”

      “Sure,”  you quip as your eyes continue to trace across his face, looking for anything that may have changed in the weeks of separation.  “You sure look like it.”

      He dips his chin shyly.  “Aw, I was just about to play some pretty angsty shit to see if that would help.”  

      The sound of his laughter fills you as he swings your body around against his.  His hands dig into your hips and your ass and your tummy as his touch seems to be everywhere suddenly.  You are not much better.  Your hands are already running up the front of his chopped up t-shirt, searching for skin and warmth and just…  Jake.

      “Awfully needy,”  he sighs as you practically yank and shred the fabric from his body in the not usual route of just sliding it off.  

      You growl, and you are not embarrassed by it.  After your ride, you just needed all of him and all of him in a rough, mean, sloppy way that you would never fully articulate, but he always seemed to understand what exactly you needed anyway.  His wicked chuckle as he discards the shirt away from the fire - don’t ask.  It would not have been the first time he lost a garment to the flames through your need.  

      You straighten up your back, plaster your most serious face you can muster and capture his full, shirtless attention.  “I need you to rail the shit out of me and this shitty assed drive up here.  I need you to do that now.”

      He rolls his lips in between his teeth.  His eyes are a liquid emotion that you barely register before it seems like your clothes are smoldering in their near correct places.  He clears his throat as if the depth of the expectation has been launched at his brain with full intent of harm or… is there an or, really?

       You suck in a breath across your teeth.  “I appreciate your romantic gesture here.  I do.  But…”

      He gulps a breath before you can retreat from your need.  “Okay.  Just give me a minute.  I’ll take care of this out here.  I’ll meet you inside.”

      “‘K…”  You nod as he turns you back towards the cabin with a little swat on your butt.  “I’m sorry I-”

       “Nope.  You’ve made it loud and clear what you need,”  he says as he drags the hose closer, beginning to spray the lovely fire that he had going.  “Just head on up to bed and I’ll be there in a minute.”

      For a moment, you are frozen.  Did you really demand what you think you just did… from Jake?  You sip in a breath as his dark eyes climb up your body as he’s bent down, scattering the embers of the campfire.  Oh.  Committed now and all…  

      You turn and move back towards the cabin.  Through the basement door and up the creaky stairs into the main space.  You decide a sip of courage would do you some good before he gets inside.  You pull the tequila from the cupboard and shakily pour yourself a shot into a lowball before dousing it with some ginger beer from the fridge.  You barely can carry the glass up the stairs into the bedroom.  Your brain is only being edged in speed by your heart.  Both are racing out of control.  You peek out the window, seeing his shadowed outline, giving the now blackened pit a final stir to ensure the flame is completely out.  You watch like a stalker as he bends to retrieve his guitar, beer, and finally his smokes before making his way towards the cabin.  A swallowed ‘fuck’ buries itself in your throat as you turn away.  The drink dribbles down your chin as you rush to the only bathroom.  

     Your eyes are completely blasted by the not as bright as you think lights.  You take another drink of your cocktail before dropping it down to the counter.  You hear him walking through the living room and back to the kitchen.  The sharp snaps of lightswitches being turned off sends jolts up your spine.  You drag your fingers through your hair in some kind of attempt to straighten yourself up.  You slide out of your pants and road weary shirt before you start running water to get warm in the sink.  The least you can do is freshen up and get the travel tar off your skin before whatever the hell he’s going to do to you gets done.

     Cleaned up, washed up, and nearly looking human, you reach for one of his t-shirts just as you hear his footfalls start up the stairs towards you.  You take the last sip of your tequila and ginger as he pauses to switch off the stairway lights, effectively announcing his arrival.  A shaky breath escapes your lips as you set your glass down on the dresser before turning towards him.  He stands at the head of the stairs, his hands calm at his sides.  His dark eyes are impossibly full of silk and velvet and lust and longing that you would think that it would spill out across the crest of his cheekbones and land on his pillowed mouth.  Or maybe, that is just you projecting everything that is suddenly erupting from every pore of your skin.  

     “Hey, handsome,” he says, his voice full of rasp as the corner of his mouth curls in a smile.

      “Hey, pretty,”  you whisper, unable to rip your eyes from the curve of his belly as it streams down the distinct v that drifts beneath his crumpled linen pants.

     “I’m surprised you’re still wearing clothes,”  he remarks, remaining rooted to his spot, his body giving no clues of what would happen next.

      You grin as you swirl a fingertip at the hem of the t-shirt just enough to flirt the edge to reveal the barely there panties that you are sporting.  His head tilts ever so slightly as a soft hum passes his lips.  You slowly turn your back to him, your fingers skating over the swell of your ass as your ghost the fabric up your sides in a surprisingly graceful maneuver as you dip your chin to look at him over your shoulder.  He raises an eyebrow and licks at his lip, just as a lock of your hair drifts across your brow in what you hope is an oh so sexy moment.  

      “Impressed?”  you coo as you drag the fabric up until you can bring it over your head.

      He lets out an amused laugh.  “Always,”  he sighs, still not moving.  “Get on the bed.  Lay down on your belly.”

      You comply because let’s face it - you’ve presented your need, why fight it?  You feel the tip of his callused finger trace across your ankle before skating up one calf and give a little tickle behind your knee.  Just as you’re folding your arms under your pillow to get more comfortable, he grabs you by the ankles and yanks you down.  You let out a surprised yelp, watching as he knocks off the pillows before he takes one wrist in between his fingers.

      You watch as he stretches your arms up towards the headboard, hooking your fingers to the edge of the bed.  “Both hands stay right here.  Doesn’t matter if you are on your belly or on your back.  Do you understand?”

      You feel your skin grow hot at the sound of authority in his tone.  You nod as you whisper out an affirmation.  He leans into you, planting a little kiss to your forehead with a smile.  One hand lands in the middle of your bare back and glides down the expanse of skin, stopping only for a moment before hooking into the fabric of your undies and pulling them down and off in a painfully slow fashion that allowed each of his fingers brush against the insides of your legs on their journey down.  Your breath quickens as you feel him move away from you, only to return his path on the other side of the bed, his hands passing over you like silk - teasing, touching, hovering, pressing.  Everywhere in their wake, his touch is leaving gooseflesh and a scorch of desire for more.  

      He disappears for a moment, leaving a vacuum of silence that weighs on you heavily.  The coil of anticipation begins to strangle you as the thunk of his boots hitting the floor strikes your ears, followed by the clank of his belt knocking on the top of the dresser.  You can picture him as he slowly undresses - each piece landing in a designated spot for ease of use in the morning.  A little hum slides through his lips as he grows nearer to you, his rings striking the nightstand and you turn your head to look at how he grins to himself and continues on like he didn’t have a naked you stretched across the bed like a trophy.  You listen as he steps into the bathroom.  That spring of anticipation is turning into outright frustration.  You sink your teeth into the tender flesh of your arm in hopes of summoning an ounce of patience.  

      “Look at you,”  he says, his voice rough with rasp.  “It’s like your whole body is vibrating.  Do you need this that badly?”

       “Fuck,”  you breath out.

      “What happened between home and here?”  he asks gently, while still keeping himself away.

      “I almost lost my damn vacation because of the boss,”  you start with a low grumble, the venom spilling out on the mattress beneath you.  “Can you believe that?  He literally went to HR and tried to have me fired if I didn’t show up next week.  Which I’m not.  I’m not going in.  HR insisted that I must take my time.”

      “I know you love your job, but maybe-”

      You shake your head.  “I’m not ready to go - no matter how fucked up he is.  There are still more aspects to the job that do not involve him that I love.”

      “Okay,”  he whispers as he moves in between your outstretched legs, but not yet moving onto the bed.  He ghosts his fingertips across your calves, back and forth, the pressure gaining traction with each pass until he’s literally dragging his hands up and down your legs like a massage.  “What else has you in these knots?”

       Your eyes roll under his care before you harken back to the drive.  “Ugh - it was like everyone had the same idea to leave the city all at the same moment, and the construction…”

       “Yeah,”  he agreed, pressing forward past your knees and into the tender skin of your thighs, mirroring his technique he had just given your calves.  “It’s so bad this year.”

       “It was down to one damn lane for miles and there’s always that one asshole that has to wait until last minute to merge and fuck everyone else who planned ahead,”  you continue, unable to hide the squeak as he hits a few stress knots about mid-thigh.

       He lets out a supportive hum as he moves up onto the mattress, straddling your thighs.  He continues to massage his way up your body in a delicious, albeit slow, manner.

       “It was like every animal was on the road coming up here,”  you scoff, leaning into his hands as he drags them up your hips.  “I swear there was an edict that was not going to allow me to actually get here.”

      “And yet,”  he whispers, digging the heels of his palms into the tops of your ass, “here you are, naked and lovely before me.”

      “Almost three hours late…”  you begin to grouse until his fingers dig into the tension in your low back.  You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as a whorish moan escapes.  

      “You like that, huh,”  he whispers against your shoulder as he repeats the move to elicit the same reaction.  “Oh my.”

      You feel yourself melting into the mattress under his care.  “I just…  oh fuuuuck…”

      He drags his fingertips hard down on either side of your spine before retreating back upwards to your shoulders.  You feel his weight against the meat of your butt as he uses you to support himself.  He leans down, placing featherlight kisses against the back of your neck.  “I’ve missed you,” he whispers into your hair before he laps at the back of your ear.

     You let go of a hot gasp as he removes his proximity away.  The heels of both hands press along the ridge of your shoulders, dragging across to the mattress.  A deep, throaty groan escapes you as he repeats the move followed by gentle finger presses that drag down along your flanks.

     “I thought I would never get here,”  you sigh as his fingers rain down along your ribs on both sides.  “I did get you some of those little bars that you like from Spencer’s.”

     He hummed as he moved off your hips to one side of the bed.  “Thank you.  Maybe we can have them later.”

      He asks you to roll onto your back with a soft reminder of where to keep your hands.  You obey, feeling like a fish on a spit, but you do it anyway.  He lets out a quiet laugh as he swipes your hair that has fallen across your face.  The low light of the room bounces off his features, making him look all the more handsome.  Or maybe that was the edge of the tequila messing with you.  Either way, you don’t care.  He’s the prettiest thing your tired eyes have seen all day.  He grins as he slides away from your side.  He begins to rub at the arches of your feet.  Firm pressure strikes knots you were not aware existed are stuck and you gasp and grimace as he continues to massage along without much expression.  Those dark eyes sparkle at you as your body feels like it’s melting into the mattress under his care.  

      His fingers drift upwards and return down.  You wanted to growl out that he was the world’s biggest tease, but your mouth stretched in a yawn instead.  As he pulled his frame in between your legs once more, climbing up onto the mattress, your eyelids felt like they were fluttering in the wind as you struggled against them.

     “Sleepy, love?”  he asked, the bass of his voice rippling across your skin as he brushed his lip across the tender skin of your belly.

      He rolls those sinful eyes up across and through your cleavage, pinning your gaze and making your breathing hitch.  Once more, his palms graze across your hips, pressing upward to your flanks in a press that makes you ooze deeper into relaxation.

     “If I didn’t know better, Jakey,”  you whisper as you desperately try to stifle another yawn, “you’re trying to get me to relax so much that I go to sleep.”

      “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”  he chuckles as he begins to cover your body with his own.

      His heat invades every inch of you as you melt under him.  His lips pass over your mouth before landing against the bump of your chin.  Slowly, he pushes his hands against your stretched out arms, lacing his fingers with your own.  He pulled his shoulders back a bit so as to look down into your face.

     “And you want me to rail the shit out of you,”  he says as you struggle to keep your focus.  His grin tugs a little more as you cover your yawn once more.

      “Uh huh,”  you sigh as he starts to plant tender kisses against your throat.

      “You want me to do what exactly?”  he whisper asks into your skin before he presses his tongue against the hollow of your collarbone.

       The heat of his body mixed with the silk of his voice begins to tug in ways that are opposite of what you want.  Your eyes are rolling back in your head, but not with pleasure.  You gasp out, but it’s a yawn that fills the air around you.  Your skin and bones feel heavy.  But he continues to slowly kiss and lap at your skin.  He’s in no hurry to fulfill your voiced wishes.  You become mesmerized as his hands leave hot, relaxed trails up and down your sides and arms.  

      “Jake,”  you manage, voice thick with sleep and comfort.

      “Yeah, baby?”  he asks, barely shifting his weight against you.  “You ready?”

14 hours later…

       You sit up in a sun filled room - alone.  There is no luscious ache to your thighs.  There’s no love marks on your tummy.  There are no remnants of the previous night at all.  You struggle to untangle yourself from the sheets to fly into the bathroom for relief and a clean up.  The scent of coffee and cooking strikes your nose as you’re dragging a t-shirt and undies on.  You can hear soft music in the air as you fight with the zipper on your bag to at least retrieve a pair of shorts. 

      You move down the stairs to find Jake, bare chested and a steaming cup in hand while he stirs eggs in the cast iron on the cooktop.  His hair is in a sloppy tiny pony that is hanging on for dear life.  His face is content as he turns towards you, surprise in his eyes.

      “You’re alive,”  he teases as you move towards him.

      You wait for him to set his cup down and turn off the stove before moving up against him.  Your hands slide across his shoulders and to his back as he pulls you in, kissing you sweetly.

      “I can’t believe I fell asleep,”  you said, blushing and hiding your face in his neck.

      “And I was railing you so good, too, baby,”  he jabs with a laugh.

      You gasp and slap at his shoulder, even though you are still hiding your face from him.  He takes your chin in hand and maneuvers you around to see you.  There is nothing but warmth and good humor and love.  He pecks your mouth and lets you go.  You watch as he slides eggs on plates along with biscuits.  He points to the coffee and walks past you.

      “Better eat up, y/n,”  he said with a firm tone.  “You’re gonna need your strength.”

      You pour yourself a cup, fixing it how you like it before joining him at the table.  “Yeah?  Why’s that?”

      “Oh, so demanding last night and then you just…”   He grins and lets out a little laugh that fills you with a flutter as he pretends to fall asleep dramatically.  “It’s now my turn.”

*****

Hey - I made it through my second reader insert! Whoa! Hope you liked it. Let me know. I know it's weird. 🤪🤪 If you'd like to be tagged for my work, let me know or you can join here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @joshkiszkas-admin @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96 @reesetrippingthelight @kyrose11 @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @brookes-so-done @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

[imagine-silk]

I got diagnosed with a tic disorder today and I think it'd be interesting to explore how tics could affect a spider person. Like my right hand tics a lot so I imagine properly shooting webs out of it would be extra challenging, and being stealth would be hard because of my vocal tics. I love the idea of platonic yanderes Peter B Parker, Miguel, Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr all being willing to beat the crap out of somebody giving me crap for my tics lol

It's good you got a diagnosis, it's very helpful and I hope the best.

Stealth is not going to be your friend. You would go on missions focused on run in run out, shock troops and such. Those also have their troubles but you blurring something doesn't matter and your slip ups will be dealt with immediately because of how fast paced it is.

As for everyone, they help you out, but adding yandere to them changes things.

Miguel will put you in situations you'll mess up in to save you and say you should stay with him. Sometimes it does risk the mission but it's worth it to get you on desk duty where he can be certain you're safe and selfishly indulging in your company. It's so unfortunate you slipped up with your shooter. He'd hate for you to feel embarrassed. So stay in. And you don’t need to know about the camera feed on the bottom of screens.

Miles is known for pushing his luck so when he goes out, for any reason, he will do his best to take you, especially when he's not supposed to. He's pretty good at getting around so sneaking you to and from is not that difficult, climbing and swinging if need be. You might think it is difficult but your tics don't matter, he's fast to adapt so he'll always catch you if you even move an inch. He's also very catty out on the street; every passing comment he'll step on their shoe or something. It was an accident, he promises. His foot slipped, just like their mouth.

Hobie is known for not following rules and for you that is in no doubt. You're not supposed to go on his missions but that might as well have been a rule that said, "Take [Name] with you everywhere." He has very strange ways to deal with your tics and they work most of the time. He's manipulative in the sense he's always a few steps ahead in a race no one knows is really happening. You have a solid sense of comfort with him that the others are going to have to catch up to. His lack of reservations and nonchalant attitude is so desirable he makes you feel normal.

Gwen is very much a person to keep distance but for a darling she will be very close and find reasons to, but for you it’s pretty easy; she’s just helping you out. And then she just happens to be there. Then the thing you went to go do she’s also doing, what a coincidence. She won’t use your tics against you, she just deals with them on the spot and reassures you it’s fine. Out of everyone she’s the most out and about on the street to be a full blown civilian so being in public is routine and she’s very confrontational with people who make their unwanted opinions known. Honestly, you will witness her beating the shit out of someone once you’ve known each other long enough, because that’s the point she’s done hiding it. It’s just, she wants you to feel comfortable walking the streets, and those people need to be out of the way for that.

Pavitr has a very basic understanding of tics in general but he’s also a star student so it’s not that way for long. His practices are mostly clinical in nature because it comes from books but the effort is fully there. As a Spider he takes it in strides. Mumbattan is dense and alive, running around on the street or in the air he always says he’ll save you. He makes good on it too. Every slip up he catches, every unwanted blurt is met with loving reassurance, and if you ask for him to wait he stops completely for you. When he tells you he’s at your disposal he means it. He’s also the one most comfortable with killing away from you. He wants you to be happy and for that to happen some trash needs to be taken out.

And then there’s Peter. He is so blatant with his habits you can’t see them. He’ll mention your tics just enough to make it obvious he is helping you but not bringing so much attention that you feel any way about it. Mayday is going to be dropped on you a lot and due to her unique abilities you really can’t hurt her in any way. If you spasm she will not tumble and if she does she’s happy to hang off of you. Blurt out something you’re not supposed to she doesn’t know English yet, no harm done. It’s a very good way to ground you while also keeping you to himself for a good chunk of time.

[madametamma]

This is going to sound strange, but I am fascinated with weak villains.  Not badly written villains mind you, I’m talking about villains who are dumb loser weaklings.  The kinds who are just lucky enough to be in a good position to get their way, and just good enough of a manipulator (not even close to what one would call a master manipulator) to scheme their way through trouble.

Ozai from ATLA, who compared to everyone else in his family  can’t do shit. He was just born into the royal family and that’s why anyone follows him. It wasn’t even his plan to steal the throne from his brother. It was his wife’s. 

Miles Brons from Glass Onion only has one thing going for him and that’s his money. He’s so bad at everything he tries to do on his own that he almost has people convinced he’s not the killer simply because there’s no way the mystery could be that obvious. He couldn’t possibly be that sloppy. Except he is.

The Lannisters pre-season 7 of game of thrones. When they’re alone they constantly talk about just how fucked they are. How easy it would be for so many people to take them down. They have the seat at the top but they’re always holding onto it by threads that keep getting cut over time though missteps and ego.

Rachel from the tower of god comic who is painfully aware of how pitifully average at best she is in a world of incredibly powerful people. The only thing going for her is that she’s genre savvy enough to play the part of the mysterious, plucky heroine to get people intrigued and interested in helping her and then throwing them under the bus when they’re not useful to her anymore. If that fails (and it’s a coin flip on whether or not it does) she gets by by just happening to have something she can use to make a deal with more powerful baddies.

For one thing, I think making your villain this way is much more difficult to write than just your standard powerful big boss. They’re always so close to finally losing it all, you know their defeat is right there in sight and you want them to fail but something snatches it away from them at the last moment. We’re never sure what or when exactly their house of cards will topple. But it’s so cathartic when it does because they never had any business being such a threat in the first place.

I also think that about how realistic these types of people are. The shit heads who are only in the positions they’re in not due to being the smartest or best but due to luck, and just having so little compassion and integrity to do anything that benefits them, screw everything/everyone else. Once you know how to spot their tactics, you see them for what they are.  I like calling them out for what they are.

[rn-zane]

TIMING: last week SETTING: outside sofie's office SUMMARY: sofie still has people trying to find her. zane just wanted to check out some antiques

She was in the little store front she rented in Nightfall Grove, sorting through some pieces for a meeting the following day. The client was from out of town, but they had heard about her through a friend of a friend, as people usually did. This time is was Tiffany lamps. Lucky for the man, Sofie had a few. Lucky for Sofie, they could go for a pretty penny. She was about to lock up and go enjoy the rest of her evening when she heard a noise from the back room. She froze. She was fairly certain she’d locked the back door when she’d come in. She stood silently, listening. There was a clank and a hiss of muttered curses. She bolted for the door. 

They’d found her- they must have found her. It has been years and she thought she’d been careful- wasn’t she careful? Apparently not, because as she bolted she heard footsteps chasing behind her. Sofie’s feet pounded against the floor and she took off out the door and started running down the street. She got a few yards before she ran directly into someone. Her mind still racing a mile a minute, she didn’t think as her eyes flared red and her fangs grew. She hissed like a cornered animal, and stumbled to get her footing. “Let me go,” was all she said. 

____________________________________

Talking with the antiquities dealer online had brought up stuff Zane had gone some time without thinking about. He’d never had many possession, even back home with his parents, and all the moving around had never given him a chance to change that. The only things he had from his childhood had been the clothes on his back and the memorabilia currently wrapped in a sock and contained to his pocket. He hadn’t tried to look at it after turning, having packaged it away after some warnings from Alma about the effects on the clan. Now, he wondered why he even clung on to the golden cross, not having worn it for five years and never getting the chance to again. Maybe the antique lady was the perfect person to take it off his hands. 

While debating the rashness of this decision, Zane didn’t really have time to prepare for another person barrelling full force into him. It was all he could do to not fall down, hands bracing on the woman’s upper arms to steady the both of them. Red eyes stared back at him and fangs glinted in her mouth and for a moment, Zane’s panic overtook the fact that she was like him. Just out in the wild. Panic heightened as he finally spotted why this strange vampire had been running - someone was chasing her. Was it another person who tracked down vampires? Shit.

His own eyes flashed red as he looked down at the stranger, hands moving away from her at the hissed warning. The one in pursuit seemed to slow for a second, clearly evaluation the situation before he was nearing again, now at a slower, more calculated pace. “Follow me,” Zane said without thinking, wanting to grab at her hand but thinking better off it, as he took off down the street, away from the danger. Hoping that she would follow him. 

——————————————————————

Red eyes. They had red eyes, like her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to sob in relief or scream at herself that she was going to get some poor unsuspecting vampire killed with her. A hasty glance over her shoulder told her she didn’t have much time. To make any decisions on how to proceed. It was fight or flight, and Sofie knew in a fight she didn’t stand a chance. If she survived the night she was going to ask Metzli to teach her to properly use a knife.

Sofie didn’t hesitate. She let out a strangled “Okay,” and took off down the street after the stranger, hoping that the hunter fell behind or changed their mind. She glanced over her shoulder every so often, to see if they were still being pursued. She scrambled to keep up, and reached out to hold on to the stranger so she wouldn’t lose them. “I’m so sorry,” she managed as they ran. “-Didn’t mean to get you in a mess too,”

_________________________________________

Zane felt the grip on his sweater sleeve which was comforting. It meant that he was neither alone in running away nor had the woman been turned to dust behind him. This was the first vampire he’d met outside of the clan and he was not going to watch her get turned to dust if he could help it. Maybe she was all alone, didn’t have a clan to look after her and make sure she was okay. Speaking of, at this rate Alma would end up giving Zane a chaperone. These run ins were getting way too frequent. Or maybe he just needed to stop being dumb, who knew. 

There was no real plan to this running, the closest place he could think of was the University downtown, which might provide them with enough cover or at least a hiding spot. The words suddenly spoken caught him off guard. Sorry? She hadn't really done much, this was just shit timing. “It’s fine,” came the quick reply as he spared her a glance. She looked genuinely guilty. “As long as we don’t die,” he added as they were still being chased. 

“Don’t suppose you have any fighting skills?”

__________________________________________

Sofie gave a weak laugh. “No, obtaining some was on my to do list for the week. I guess I should have bumped it up in my schedule.” Wonderful time to make jokes, Sofie. You’re about to die with this poor stranger, but at least your epitaph can say she laughed in the face of death.

She riffled through her purse for something she could use. Anything. She was beginning to realize just how little her sire had taught her. We are perfectly safe, ma colombe, why would we need to fight? A voice from ages past whispered through her mind. This is why, Seraphine. Sofie thought in reply. This is why.

She pulled out her keychain with the tiny swiss army knife attached and held it up. “It’s worth a shot?”

___________________________________________________

Staring at the tiny knife, Zane evaluated their options. They could keep running, sure. But there’s was also two of them and one of him. Vampires were strong and according to what little information he’d gotten from Alma, pretty hard to kill. Not impossible, obviously, given that he’d witnessed a literal execution just days ago. It wasn’t even like they needed to fight him to the death. Just… scare him off. 

“It’s definitely worth something,” Zane agreed, shoving over a trash can they ran past in hopes of slowing him down. “Stop on three and charge at him? Maybe if he thinks we can fight him he’ll run off?” As far as plans went, it wasn’t a good one. Running through the whole town, wondering if he had back up on the way, also wasn’t high on that list. He could grab at something in the vicinity, use it to force the man away, not giving him a chance to stake them or whatever it was he planned on doing. 

—--

Sofie watched over her shoulder as the trash can bounced on the side walk, rolling directly into their pursuers path. At least her new companion could keep his head on his shoulders at a time like this. Another glance over her shoulder and she watched the hunter skid to an awkward halt to reroute around the trash and continue his chase. 

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Sofie grimaced as she said it. “On three.” She agreed. “One,” God this could go badly. “Two,” if she made it out of this unscathed she was going to invest in security cameras and better locks. “Three!”

_________________

Stomach jolting with anxiety, Zane turned, focus divided between his friend in crisis and the now startled man. The choice of “weapons” wasn’t good but the broken bottle would have to do, snatched up from the sticky ground and immediately held out towards the threat. The man looked more confused than scared, really, which Zane couldn’t blame him for. A small swiss army knife and a broken bottle in the hands of two, clearly very incapable, vampires. What, like Zane was going to tear into his jugular with his teeth? He didn’t even really plan on getting those jagged bottle edges anywhere near the man’s skin if he could help it. 

“Back the fuck off.” It was his best attempt at intimidation, a somewhat poor one at that but still. More things to say rattled around his brain, bottle a bit too unsteady in his hand. “There’s two of us now but more on the way,” was what it finally landed on, a bold faced lie but hopefully the intensity of his fear made it sound somewhat believable. He really, really didn’t want this to end in a fight. 

______________

Sofie came to a halt after the word left her mouth. She glanced at her compatriot and his broken bottle. This was either going to go very well for them, or very, very badly. By some miracle she managed not to look surprised at his bluff. No one was coming to help them unless this new vampire had some magical panic button that would have aid on the way. But based on the bottle and the tiny little army knife they had as weapons, that wasn’t very likely.

The hunter skidded to a stop. In the street light Sofie could see them better now. They looked on the young side, and now that they were faced with two vampires who looked ready to bring this to an end, they seemed unsure of themself. They shifted on their feet for a moment, and Sofie took the opportunity to fake a lunge at them. The novice hunter turned and ran, the prospect of more vampires clearly too much for them. She watched as they ran, dumbfounded that it had actually worked. “Thank you,” She said, sounding mystified as she watched them disappear after turning a corner. She finally turned her attention to her new ally. “Thank you. If you hadn’t come up with that, he would have chased me into a corner.”

______________

Zane stared after the man for a moment too long, muscles still tense with worry as he turned back to the woman. “What? Oh, yeah, no problem. Watch enough movies, you get good at bullshitting, I guess. Good call with the fake out, too.” He watched her for a while, brain finally getting a moment to fully comprehend the situation now that imminent death wasn’t on the agenda. Another vampire, seemingly on her own, and one that hadn’t seemed exactly surprised by the man trying to chase her down and stab her. 

Energy swelling up in his limbs now that it had nowhere to go, Zane’s feet were on the move, starting to walk at a considerably slower pace than they’d been traveling just moments before. Getting some more distance between them and the would-be murderer didn’t seem like a bad idea, anyway. “Did you know that guy? Because I saw someone I know get turned into dust by some stranger and he tried to chase me down as well. Is that like… a thing?”

—--

Sofie drew deep breaths into her lungs, even if she didn’t need them. If nothing else, the motion of it was soothing. She shook her head emphatically at his question. “No, not don’t…. At least I hope I don’t.” If she did know who it was, she would have had a much bigger set of issues. “They must have been trailing me, or noticed I kept off hours- I thought I was being careful enough.”

The second half of his sentence registered in her mind and her face fell. “Oh… oh my goodness I am so sorry.” Her apologies were useless, but what else did she have? “It is ‘a thing’ for us, unfortunately.” She explained. “Our existence isn’t exactly…” Sofie searched for the right word. “Palatable. To some.”

___

So it had been a stranger, aware of this woman’s… undeath. Did they have a file somewhere about vampires? How would they even know, Zane hadn’t told anyone outside of his clan so was he on that list now? Had the guy outside the hospital known that he was a vampire and made sure everyone else knew it? Man, he should have told Alma about the encounter with the stranger with the bad knee. 

She was apologizing now, for the death of a vampire she hadn’t even known and Zane decided that he liked her. “Right.” It was all he could think to reply. Not palatable. So Zane had a group of people that accepted him now but as a result, his very existence was an offense to others. Excellent… “Guess they skipped that part in the clan introduction,” he added under his breath, finally slowing his walk to meet the stranger’s eyes. “Speaking of, I should probably get back. I’m not a big fighting help but I could walk you to someone from your clan, make sure you get there safe. Oh, uh, Zane. By the way.” He reached out a hand for a lack of a better greeting even though running from death with someone just made him want to hug them. 

______

Just how new was this vampire Sofie thought to herself, that he doesn’t know about hunters? Or just how lax was his clan on the important details of vampire life? Although she supposed she shouldn’t judge. She knew of hunters when she was still a young creature, but hadn’t accepted the reality of them until years later. 

The expression on her face soured for a moment, but settled into something that vaguely resembled a smile. “I’m the only one in my clan around here.” She was the only one in her clan period. “I don’t live too far from here though, just a few blocks away.” Sofie took his hand and shook it. “Sofie, it’s a pleasure.” The discussion of clans had her interest piqued and she couldn’t help but ask. “So what clan are you a part of that they skip the important detail of slayers in the introduction?”

_________

There was a definite shift in Sofie’s expression as he talked about clans but with the high of surviving death still metaphorically running through his veins, Zane didn’t linger on it. The explanation came, he supposed, in her reply. She was the only one here, which was interesting and also quite sad. Zane couldn’t imagine having to go through everything on his own; getting food, being stuck inside on sunny days, talking to someone about the nagging voice in his head every time he went too long without feeding. “Sorry to hear that.”

Without asking, he had taken on the job of walking her home. As bad as his protection was, at least it had helped her out earlier which was something. The question about his clan made Zane pause, wondering just how hush-hush things were supposed to be. He knew that telling people about town about his newly acquired undeath was a big no but telling other vampires… “I think they’re just trying to ease me in, I guess. They did warn me not to wander about too much but I get restless easy so…” Yeah, it was almost definitely obvious that he’d skipped a whole part of her question but he didn’t know Sofie yet. He liked her, innately trusted her in a way but Alma and the other didn’t feel like his to talk about. “Maybe I should tell them to work on a pamphlet or something. Would probably have made some of this easier. Not that I’m, like, complaining or anything. Just… different, is all.”

__________

The only answer she provided was a shrug. He was young, or so she assumed. It was best not to scare him with stories like hers when he was just getting started. “It’s alright. You get used to it, I suppose.” Sofie lied. Sofie had never gotten used to it. Not the quiet, not the solitude, not the boredom. Not the little reminders of what she would never get back. None of it. 

So when Zane fell in step with her, she was grateful for the companionship. It would be nice to not have to walk home alone. “It’s certainly a change.” She offered a friendly smile, her nerves finally settled. “It takes some time to get used to all of it… How long have you been this way, if you don’t mind my asking?

_____

Zane nodded along, hoping she was right. That it would start to feel more normal - being able to smell people’s blood, no longer having dreams, not feeling his heart race after a good run, sometimes wondering what it would feel like to actually sink his fangs into something… “Here’s hoping. No turning back, anyway.” Just another of his rash, ill thought out decisions to deal with. 

Sofie had a calming effect, he found. Her smile was genuine and it was nice to talk to someone while not having to wonder in the back of your mind what they would taste like. Sure, Zane had that back at the house but at times, he still felt like the new addition. It had been months but for some of the vampires back at the house, it probably seemed like a blip. He was the kid, constantly being reminded about the sun and asked whether or not he’d accidentally eaten someone yet. All jokes, sure, but every one of them chipped away at something unseen. So he hesitated at Sofie’s question, not wanting to get the same patronizing attitude from her, too. 

“Not… not long. Which you probably already guessed seeing as I don’t seem to know shit.” He laughed but it fell flat, the condescending undertone reminding him to shove it all back in. No need to overshare with this still-stranger about the most likely unnecessary worries over his new life. “You?”

—-

A snort of a laugh erupted from Sofie.  “Well, it was a hint. But don’t feel bad. I’m well past my three hundredth birthday, and I’m still learning some things.” She was careful to keep her voice low. It didn’t seem like anyone was around to eavesdrop on their little conversation, but since their introductions had been made while on the run from a slayer, Sofie wasn’t about to take any unnecessary risks. 

“Though if it helps, I suppose you could look at it this way.” She began, looking over at the younger vampire as they walked along. “You were a human all your life. You existed in that state for many years. Did you have being a human completely figured out? Can you say beyond a shadow of a doubt you knew exactly how you would react in any possible scenario? Do you know for certain exactly how many years you would live for?” She shrugged. “It’s not so different existing like this. Unless you plan to spend your now elongated existence doing scientific studies on how you and others of our kind function, you will still be in the comfortably uncomfortable camp of not having all of the answers.” Sofie cocked her head to the side. “Did that make sense, or have I just confused you more?” 

______

Three hundred? Zane couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around living out a whole human lifetime, much less three of them. “You don’t look a day over a hundred?” he replied sheepishly, not sure how else to process this information. He knew that Alma, for instance, was definitely older than she looked but he’d never heard a number this big in regards to years actually lived said out loud before. Questions were already bubbling up in his chest but this wasn’t the time. 

He listened carefully as Sofie spoke, now fully feeling the weight of three hundred years of knowledge. Zane had gone through more than a few existential crises considering his age but realizing that your life wouldn’t end with the world imploding left a lot of things to think about. It had been a stroke of luck to even find a career that he actually enjoyed, seeing as his twelve year old self hadn’t been wondering about what he wanted to be or do when he grew up. 

“Definitely still confused but… comforted, I guess? I don’t know, just… ten years ago I thought I wouldn’t make it to twenty and now I have all this time and no idea if I’m spending it right or even if I made the right choice-” Zane cut himself off, feeling the uncomfortable spiral spinning out of control in his head before he reigned it in. “Sorry. Side effect from almost dying just now, I think. You’re… really nice to talk to. Thank you.”

_____

A delighted laugh rang out, echoing down the empty street. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She grinned. Sofie knew full well she had surprised him with her age. Most people didn’t think the young woman standing beside them on the street had been around since the time the state they were in was still a colony. 

A sympathetic smile unfolded on her face. She could remember back to the start. The memories had grown fuzzy with time, but she still remembered the cyclone of questions that had swirled around in her mind. Time had provided some clarity, but even now she still had questions and what-ifs. She had more what-ifs than anything else in the world. 

“You’ll never be entirely sure it was the right choice.” She sighed, patting him gently on the shoulder. “It was the choice you made. From that choice are endless strings of different futures. But you can’t untangle the knots you’ve made on your string. You just have to keep making new choices, making your string longer as you tie it to new choices.” She shook her head, tossing off the melancholy. “Well, so are you. You can talk to me anytime. I’m sure your clan has plenty of answers on the way they do things. But if you ever want an outsider's perspective, you’re always welcome to mine.” 

_____

It was an odd one, this feeling of instant connection with a complete stranger. Zane could count on one hand the number of facts he currently knew about Sofie but it seemed that running from a weapon together made things like facts matter less. It was as if he knew all he needed to at this moment and apparently, so did she. As of right now, she was the only person on earth that knew about his real identity and, however vaguely, his struggles with it. Confiding in someone had been nice. It had never felt right, talking to the rest of his clan about this as they all seemed so comfortable in their skin, so sure in their purpose. Talking about it would have only made Zane feel like more of an outlier than he already did. But Sofie seemed to be some kind of outcast herself. 

The gentle shoulder pat was comforting in so many ways and never before had he been so grateful for a situation that made him fear for his life. Not that he’d had that many life threatening situations before but the numbers were really racking up these past few months. “I think an outsider’s perspective will definitely come in handy.” Zane smiled, feeling the last of the night’s panic simmer away in the woman’s presence. The offer seemed like a genuine one and he would definitely be taking her up on it. 

[janumun]

Aether with pussy fantasizing about you within his Throne room in the Abyss.

His lectors and heralds are out at the moment, busy keeping up different tabs and connections in other layers of the world, cleaning up unwanted pests and whatnot. So, Aether is by his lonesome. Just him in a boundless throne of silence, atoned in silvers and cherished golds, a tainted yet comfortable darkness, fitting for a golden prince of temptation and corruption.

You and his twin sister Lumine just destroyed yet another one of the Abyss's plans, continuing to be a thorn in his side, not like that will stop anything in the future. Only delaying the inevitable war that Aether will soon bring forth upon the filthy gods of Teyvat.

Perhaps he has some kind of screen up, some strange means to keep tabs on you and your findings, the Abyss has ancient magics and technology aplenty to blend everything to its ruler's wish. He watched it all happen, your fights and team ups with his sister, it reminds him of old times. Erotic memories of yonder; good times and tragedies alike. You both work well together, sharks in an ocean of prey. Smashing enemies left and right, biting with enough force to make the god's themselves jealous of your wrath. Like they are nothing more than specks of dust, waiting for their time to return to nature as the universe intended for everything in its cruel midst's.

Just as Aether and Lumine were traveling together in the previous worlds, you were too determined to take anything laying down, before and after his beloved begun coming with him.

Aether of all people should know exactly what power is, it rules, a governor of nature; gave the god's their means to shape this world into their image and so on, dirty as they are. Aether should also already know just how incredibly attractive power is, how quickly it draws in people of interest. There are various types. People of stubbornness, people of pride and prejudice. Of greed...

Of lust.

And shit you're by no means some peasant, not some unruly amateur Lumine picked up on a whim or out of pity.

You were a warrior, a heart of justice and great will. Even in past times Aether left behind in pursuit of a new goal, he never once thought to underestimate you. You were his greatest ally next to his sister and proved as one of his greatest foes. You wouldn't have survived so long, escaped Aether's possessive hands so many times if you were a mere weakling, the fact you have his sister's aid is just a lucky bonus. Wandering throughout a vast ocean of bloodshed and merciless torture, it would've killed any little fish swimming through it.

Didn't kill his sister, as expected. But especially not you.

Seeing you bathed in sweat, an embodiment of pure ambition, coated in the inhuman blood of the massive Lawachurl you basically exploded using your fierce commands over the elements. Aether can practically feel you breathe of defiance, all the way down the deepest depths of Teyvat, hear your heart drumming a mile a minute in your ears. You're right in front of him, visibly clear as a cloudless sky. Fighting the demons coming your way, the hopeless monsters unlucky enough to be in the midst of your battle.

But you're still so far away. So far away from Aether.

His hands suddenly feel much emptier than they usually do, with no other hand to keep them company to fill the void of loneliness, no trusted fingers to tangle and trace affectionately against his knuckles.

Aether has always prided himself in being more then aware of his surroundings, an expert in reading the darkness, spotting the slightest moments in the shadows is second nature to the proud prince of the Abyss. A welcomed perk of playing his role, but even that didn't help. Everything and everyone around you-in his lonesome grim glance in the mortal world-perishes to empty space. Aether tones out your apposing foes like nothing, like they never existed in his plane of being, never lived in his state of mind. Aether doesn't even register his own sister, who fights alongside you like Bonnie and Clyde, as if it were any other day in exploring yet another curious corner in Teyvat. But no, nothing exists in that screen, none but you.

Just you, your face.

That face Aether deep down knew he still loves to the moon and back. Despite everything he swore, everything who he was and ever will be, Aether would gladly kill every star in the night falling sky, just to see your soft smile shine in his life like it always did once more. That familiar gleam of confidence in your trails of ice and fire, that sense to overcome and walk the soils of victory, that determination to resist and adapt.

(In this war against fate, in every fight you fought to finally face true reality, the forsaken destiny Aether carefully crafted for you and his sister; you were still as hideously beautiful as he remembered you, no matter how much violence he forced you to bathe in.)

Aether has never ever turned so fucking moist so damn fast in his entire lifetime, in all his years of conspiring against the morality of Teyvat. His tightening slit was going to leave quite the messy spot in his royal abyssal robes if he doesn't take care of it quick enough and seeing how hard his clit was throbbing, ignoring it wasn't an option.

All of this was your fault, Aether was just as stubborn as you were to win. Whether the people wanted it or not, Aether will hit them with truth in war. Teyvat will eventually learn to face the music, it's meaning the Gods tried so hard to bury neath the forgotten ruins of Khaenri'ah. But he could forgive you for this at least, some of his heart maintained after the break. Aether had many plans for Teyvat, and for you in general as well.

The thought of your fingers, your tongue, just how tightly he would clinch around your eager length; there were many ways Aether would punish you, make you pay for everything you did to him.

Everything you still do to him.

Not the first time Aether touched himself at the lewd thought of you, humane. Aether is still yet a man with a soul, who yearns and moans.

And he knew, if he kept watching you like this,

it surely won't be the last time he does.

👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 I think I nearly passed out over Aether’s sweet obsession with us; that dark pleasure at seeing you slathered all over in the colors of blood and carnage and him just admiring how beautiful you are, how much more beautiful you could look underneath him.

I’m sure it can get cold in there without warmth and I am more than willing to go down on my knees to please our Prince 🥰

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER FIVE

Joel

Our feet hang off the edge of Annie’s roof, which overlooks the whole town. A joint in my hand and a cigarette in her’s, smoke wisps from her agape mouth. It’s about 6:30 in the morning, the sun just beginning to rise. I didn’t sleep, and was relieved to discover Annie couldn’t either. Though it isn’t as common, Annie still has her fair share of sleepless nights.

The morning is cold without wind, and the view from Annie’s roof is stunning. Her home stands at the peak of Matlock’s rolling hills, a two story building with a flat roof. A perfect spot for stargazing, smoking, or some time alone. 

Annie hits play again, pausing just as the arms reach out of the woods and grab Mateo. “This is wild, how did you get this?”

“Miles knew the code to Mateo’s phone and I guess no one else did. The night he went missing he and Miles were filming some art project.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

She watches the rest of the video again, breezing past the odd lights Miles noticed earlier. 

“How’d Miles take it?”

“Exactly how you’d think. Now he’s sure his brother is dead.”

“I’m convinced too,” Annie replies.

“He’s really messed up, I dunno what to do.”

“You don’t need to do anything. There’s nothing you can do unless you wanna find the body for him.”

“I just wanna make him feel better, but I’m next to useless.”

She inhales a drag from her cigarette and looks at me. “Well, you know what you’d do if I were in his shoes.”

“Can’t imagine throwing Miles on a b&e would help.”

“If he’s terrified he can’t be sad,” She giggles then lays down on her back, I do the same. “Plus, you do have your own killer to find. Maybe you help him by letting him help you.”

Lost in thought I puff my joint. “Don’t you find that strange? Two killers out here at once?”

She only shrugs, “All the more reason to take him then. If you’re lucky it’ll be a two birds one stone situation.”

Trying to laugh, I again find myself sinking deeper into thoughts of revenge. Followed always by the image of my poor dog, his sad face crusted with blood and pain. It seems impossible to live in a reality where someone so evil gets away scot-free. 

 But Annie doesn’t need to hear it, my jaw remains silently clenched, crushing filter. “Alright, we’ll go tonight if he’s up for it.”

“Sounds like a plan bro. Meet you at the arcade after, Otto insists we check out the new machine.”

“He’s still dragging you on dates?”

“C’mon, he knows it’s not gonna happen. We’re just hanging out as friends.”

The sky has shifted from muted pinks and oranges to a more consistent shade of blue. There are no clouds in the sky, and I wonder if my life really could be at stake here. If someone is willing to kill a dog just to humiliate me, who’s to say they won’t go farther? How do I know they’re not just waiting until I let my guard down?

“I hope we can help Miles. Even if it is in our own fucked up way,” I say eventually. Annie steals the joint from my fingers and opens her mouth to speak, but pauses. “Are you ever gonna tell him that you’re ga-”

Staring down with furious eyes I interrupt. “I don’t wanna talk about that. Don’t even say it.”

“Easy man, was just curious. Am I still the only person you’ve told?”

“Yep,” I sigh. “And I’m gonna keep it that way.”

Through the generations of living removed from real civilisation, Matlock Beach has grown well past cultish in its religion. Featuring two churches within three kilometers and dozens of families who’ll accept nothing but the word of their bible. Even Annie finding out was a fluke. If only I hadn’t been so drunk that night, if Annie didn’t have to walk me home.

“Not even your sister?”

I steal back the joint, inhale another puff. “No. Just drop it.”

***

When the clock strikes eight I’m out the door before my boss can say a word. Miles agreed to meet me after work, though it took some coercing to get him out of his room. It was strange actually, his answer was a definitive “no” until a sudden change of heart midday. 

On my way up to the door I spot him through the window. He holds a pencil in his right hand and a coffee in his left. French Vanilla Latte I’d suspect. He’s staring off into space, twirling the pencil in his fingers and mouthing the words to whatever music he’s listening to. I walk through the door where the smell of espresso warmly greets my nose. The Cafe is small, but it’s atmosphere can’t be beat anywhere in town. The seats are soft, the tables are always cleaned right away, and there’s a little fireplace in the center, selling the cozy feeling with it’s digital crackling of wood. It’s no surprise this is where Miles would work.

 Once he sees me on the way to his table, Miles takes off his earbuds and neatly places a small stack of white papers inside the sketchbook.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he says right off the bat. “When you reminded me of your dog this morning at school, it made me wonder: how do we know the things happening to us aren’t connected?”

I decide not to let him in on the conversation Annie and I had. “I’m listening,” I reply. 

 Miles continues, “I did some digging, found out Matlock Beach has an messy history compared to other settlements in the area. In the 1800s there were a series of disappearances, lots of kids, but lots of animals were found too, mutilated. Some even said their blood had gone completely black. There’s old stories of something infecting the forest and the lake.”

“You think some weirdo’s mimicking the old killings?”

“Maybe, but its beside the point. What are the odds of a place like this having two killers at once?”

“But Toby was meant to hurt me specifically. What would this person have against Mateo?”

“I don’t know. But two horrible deaths in the same month can’t be coincidence in a place like this. Can they?”

What Miles is saying makes sense, but his theory only brews more bad theories. Could Mateo have been my fault? If I did something that made someone snap does that mean I’m responsible his death? “You’d be surprised at how many lunatics live in this cult town… But yer probably right. That’s why you changed your mind about coming?”

“That’s right.” The brown’s of his eyes are dilated and his eyebrows show determination instead of fear now. Have I been looking at them for too long?

The expression disappears when his eyes refocus on the door behind me.

“Don’t look,” he whispers and lowers his head. “Maybe he won’t notice us.”

“Who?” I whisper.

Then a stomach twisting giggle. “Jesus Christ aren’t you adorable?” Aaron slides into my side of the booth, thick cheeks creased into a grin. 

Fuck.

“Room for a third?” He winks at Miles, expression draining into anxiety.

“Piss off,” I hiss.

“We’re busy,” Miles grumbles, frustrated but polite.

“Remember when you used to look into my eyes like that?” Aaron stretches his arms and plops his feet right next to my hands. They’re wrapped in tight skinny jeans and dusted with white powder. Doughnuts or cocaine? Either outcome fit. “I was only wondering if you had an update on that killer.” He takes a sip of Miles’s coffee and raises both brows at him. “Either one.”

Smacking both hands on the table I reply, “You’ve got no business in this. We got what we needed out of you, but if you’re askin’ for another round then be my guest.”

“You’d figure I should be the one pissed,” Aaron snaps back. “You should be begging for my forgiveness, Hawkins.” Miles’s face turns to worry as my fists clench by my sides. He knows how much I hate the last name.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell the day I ask for your forgiveness.”

“Good, cause you aren’t getting it.”

“Can we relax, please?” Miles interjects. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“What an excellent idea my lifelong pal.” Aaron’s tone and posture change like nothing happened. “Honestly, I’ve been bored. I wanna see how this is gonna play out, and I know you’re planning something exciting.”

“Like I said, none of your business,” I snarl.

“Well gee, sorry,” Aaron says. “Guess I’m not welcome here then, I just wanted to check in with my buddies.” He smirks maliciously. Aaron takes his legs off the table and stands, finishing off Miles’s coffee without a word of protest. “See you in class Miles, and good luck finding your murderer!” He waves him off without a glance at me.

“What a piece of shit!”

Miles reaches for the center of the table. “He’s just trying to get to you.”

“I know. I wish he didn’t make me so angry but he does. He’s been doin’ this shit since ninth grade. Probably the one responsible anyway, asshole came to taunt me about it I bet.”

Miles eyes his empty coffee cup with a tinge of disgust, tosses it in the garbage can behind. “If he’s involved, he could have come to see if his hint led us anywhere.”

“Probably made the whole thing up, then he came here just to mock me.” I turn to the window beside us, at my reflection in the glass.

“We don’t know that, though.”

“S’pose we’ll find out.”

“Speaking of, when’s Annie supposed to be here?”

“She said ten minutes fifteen ago. Wants to meet us at the arcade.”

The downtown arcade is only a few doors down from the cafe, a grimy building built into a an old garage. I may have some vague memories of visiting as a kid, but Ruby and I were so scared going by ourselves. These days it’s a building I usually forget, like the bank or post office. It’s a dark contrast to the bright cafe, but the kids feverishly smacking the controls don’t seem to mind.

Annie hasn’t noticed Miles and I in the entrance yet, far too occupied with losing. Otto stands in the booth next to her, hitting his third 50 pointer in a row, Annie bows her head in shame.

“Okay okay, one more game, I think I’m getting the hang of it,” she says. “How’re you so good at this already?”

“It’s just math, maybe we should get back to studying.”

Annie snorts, words oozing with sarcasm, “That so? If math is gonna solve everything how about you calculate why my mom is such a stuck up b- HEY JOEL, HEY MILES.” She waves fanatically

Otto’s eyes drift away as they always do when he’s flustered, I don’t know what was so embarrassing, but he seems to know that it’s time to go. I nod my head toward the exit when Annie asks us to wait outside.

The stainless steel table and chairs are cold against my skin under the purple twilight, but it isn’t long before Annie rolls out of the building on her skateboard. She kicks it into her hands and lights a smoke.

“Just be safe Annie.” Otto shoots me a hard glance while he says this.

“Yeah, I’m hanging out with our friends not snorting meth,” she jokes. When out of earshot she adds, “Never again.”

“I’ll see you guys later,” Otto waves us off before planting his hands in his pockets.

“You don’t want a ride home?” I offer, thumb gesturing at my truck. “Or a sweater maybe?”

“That’s okay,” he waves us off and starts towards home. 

“See ya later,” Miles waves before Otto disappears into the dark.

***

Some part of me waited for Miles to change his mind, but its more than a relief that he hasn’t. Maybe we can finally get his mind off his brother for a minute. I know for a fact that Aaron showing up didn’t help, and I can only hope he isn’t losing it like I would in his place. He sits in the back seat, anxiously picking his fingers. On my right Annie scans the place, finding exits where possible, searching for blind spots from windows and cameras. Planning is Annie’s specialty, while I work best thinking on my toes. We brought masks and steakout supplies if we need to wait out a manager. This includes a backpack full of snacks, weed, flashlights, crowbar, and a pair of binoculars. Just the essentials.

Annie flicks her cigarette out the window, “You boys ready for a break-in if needed?”

“I dunno,” Miles shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe you guys should do that part without me.”

“Relax,” Annie turns in her seat to face him with a comforting smile. “You think we were perfect our first go around? Of course not, but we had each others backs, and that’s all you really need.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say. “Let’s see if we can go the safe route first.”

“Just want the newbie to be prepared.”

“Let’s just go,” I open the door.

We walk to the door of the place. It’s far dumpier than even the restaurants and shops in downtown Matlock. Rumour has it the place has been going bankrupt for years, not many tourists on the outskirts I suppose. Opening the door, a familiar voice greets me.

“Sup Hawkins, been a while.”

Staring me in the face is Wendy Anson, the girl I sent to juvie and our prime suspect. She’s smiling and picking the chicken wings from her teeth.

“Uh, hey Wendy. Long time no see.”

“I’ll say, jail was a blast.”

Annie looks at me nervously. It’s unclear whether this is meant as a genuine joke or not. There’s almost no way she could tie me to her bust. The only person I ever told at the time was Annie, and there’s no way she’d rat me out. My report to the cops was anonymous, and no one saw me enter or leave the house, I went through great measures to make sure of that.

“Anyways, what’re y’all ordering?” She picks up a notepad and pen, glancing up at us from under her black hat with those evil brown eyes. A fake gold chain circles her neck, though you know she’ll brag to everyone that it’s real.

“Glad to see you got out okay,” I say casually. 

“Right, I’m sure you were counting the days. Now could ya hurry up? Last call is in four minutes.”

Annie steps past me and puts her hands on the table. “Nice to see you and all, we’re not here for food. Someone’s been fucking with Joel and you might have caught whoever it was on that security camera you have in the back, we wanted to know if you’d let us take a look.”

“We just got that thing to catch whatever was banging around out back. Raccoons, by the way, who’d’ve guessed,” She rolls her eyes.

“Could we just take a look anyways?” I ask. “It’ll only take a second.”

“Hang on a minute,” Wendy sighs. She exits down a hallway to her right. A door creaks open and a voice speaks. It’s too far and the kitchen is too noisy to make out what they’re saying, but when Wendy appears back at the counter she says “Afraid I can’t help.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Seems the manager hates your guts Hawkins, best of luck to you though.”

“Could’ya please just try again? For a friend?”

Wendy snorts, “My hands are tied, I’d keep asking but I’m getting outta here. Got some real business to get to. If you’re interested, you know where to find me.” 

Fists clench at my side, jaw tense, Annie glares at me. Just as I open my mouth to give wendy a piece of my mind Annie drags me outside by the hem of my shirt. “Hey!” I object.

“Not worth it bro, let’s go.” 

“Catch ya later,” Wendy calls as I’m dragged away like a child misbehaving in the mall.

I yank her hand away, “Was that necessary? God.”

“Apparently. We can’t rob the place if you assault their staff.”

“Why do you just assume I’m going to assault her?”

“Because that’s usually how you deal with things,” she replies.

Miles covers his mouth, suppressing that giggle he does when he wants to laugh but knows he shouldn’t. A smile creeps at my lips but I go along with it.

“Real funny huh? How’d you like it if I dragged you around like a little kid?”

“We’d all love to see that but we need to go back to the car, now.” Annie interrupts. “If we’re seen hanging around this place we’ll look even more suspicious.”

When we all hop back in my car Miles speaks, “Well that’s it right?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We can’t break in there, she’ll know it was us for sure.”

He has a point. If we go break in there tonight there’s no doubt Wendy will know it was us, with anyone else this would be a serious issue.

“We’re gonna be just fine.”

Annie props her elbow on my shoulder from the back seat, intrigued. “Oh?” A beat. “Ooooh.”

I shift into reverse and leave the parking lot, driving down the gravel road towards town but making a right through the grassy ditch into a field. 

“Long story short ninth grade was wild. Wendy hates rats. Remember when Jake called in a bomb threat to ditch an exam?” 

“Oh I remember,” Annie replies. “Lua ratted and got him expelled.”

“And what did the rat-hater Wendy Anson do? Set their car on fire. Ratting is no joke to her.”

“And you still got her arrested?” Miles asks.

“For being a money hungry psycho bitch, yeah.”

I take the long route to the train tunnel, all the way to the end of the field slightly into the forest, hidden just in case things go south.

“So,” Miles starts. “Your plan is to once again rat on the one who will kill you for ratting?”

“Not at all. I’m long past playing tattletale.” 

“So what are you going to do then?” He asks.

“I’m gonna make sure she never hurts anyone again. I’m going to do somethin’ about it. Are you?” 

“Well what exactly are you planning on doing about it?” Miles asks.

“I’m gonna make this asshole pay for it.”

“By hurting them? How will that fix anything?”

“Don’t need it to fix anything.”

“So what does that mean? Do you want to kill someone they love? You wanna beat them to a pulp like Aaron? Cause that worked so well?”

“God, I’m not going to fucking kill anyone! Why does everyone have to assume-?” I realize too late what this argument does to me. I wipe my eyes and unbuckle my seatbelt. “You don’t need to come with me.”

The night sky is brightly illuminated by the near full moon, and the wind is light. The space beside the tunnel is an area of tall unkempt grass stretching across the field to the wooded horizon. It rises up to my waist, but almost covers my body when I sit against the rocky wall. The night’s peaceful, it was nights like these I’d sometimes spend with my dog. Let him run around in the grass and throw stuff for him to chase. Sometimes he’d come back with a mouse or bird he killed. Others were disgusted, but I knew he just wanted to help me in his own way.

Miles arrives shortly, he sits close and tucks his knees into his chest. I look at his face in the moonlight, his curly brown hair sways slightly in the wind, and his rounded features cast hazy shadows in his face. He looks away from me and starts plucks grass to twirl around his finger. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’d never kill anyone.”

“Sorry I yelled,” I say. “People have a tendency to assume the worst in me. But… there’s a reason for that.”

“I understand why you’re angry, I’m angry too. This person will take responsibility for what they’ve done.” Miles’s eyes meet mine. “Do you want to tell me about him?”

“Before you an’ Annie I had no one. He was just a dog but he was someone, and…” I trail off. Opening up isn’t something I’m used to, and it feels really wrong for some reason. School counselors and self-help posters at school say talking about it should feel good. On the rare occasion I get to it, something just sinks into the bottom of my stomach, I only want to curl up into a ball and never speak again. It was easier venting to a dog because I could talk and talk and he’d never be burdened by my problems. “I miss him. And I can’t stand the thought of the piece of crap who did it walking around without a care. Makes my damn blood boil.”

“You have every right to be angry, but hurting them isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I have to do something.”

Annie tosses black fabric in my face before I even notice her approach. “And we will,” she says. “We’re gonna try and find them tonight, then give ‘em to the piggies.” She lobs the hockey mask at Miles’s but it ends up hitting him in the face. “And we’re going to do it without getting caught in the first place.” I unfold the fabric and find my bandana, I can’t help but smile.

“Thanks Annie.”

“No amount of violence will stop me from helping you.”

I laugh and look at Miles. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to, we get it.”

Miles’s replies without hesitation. “Maybe there’s a risk, but there’s a good shot this person is involved with Mateo somehow. I’m coming.”

“Fuck yeah!” Annie exclaims, pulling us both off the ground into a tight hug. The comforting smell of orange shampoo fills my nose, and the negative feelings dissolve for a fleeting moment.

[ideaforfanficsorsomethingidgaf]

Draft for the first chapter of fanfic that I could finish or not finish like my other fanfics.

Tell me if it's good. Since I can't draw a Spidersona because I'm shit at drawing, why not make a fanfic?

Miguel O’Hara, Spiderman 2099, stood in front of his holographic screens, watching over the videos of how each of the spidermans’ handle their mission with catching anomalies. Everything was running smoothly, especially since the incident with Miles and the Spot. It’s been 2 years since the incident occurred and Miles was somewhat alright with him, Miguel apologized to him and Miles forgave him after some time.

Now, he can crack a joke here and there with ease, even with Miguel in the room. He wasn't friendly close with Miles but he knows that he has his back like Miles does the same to him and that was enough. He kept thinking about the incident as he read another report of one of the recent successful missions in capturing another anomaly when something popped up. It was another notification of an anomaly spotted on another earth, the usual, but this was something a bit different. The notification showcased an unknown earth number, which was rare because Miguel rarely knows any earth that he hadn't heard, seen, or visited before, so this was new. 

“Lyla.” Miguel called out as he zoomed in the notification and pressed on the earth’s number; 121205. Lyla appeared, floating above his shoulder, with her usual fashionable white coat and heart shaped glasses. “Yeah, waddup?” She asked him as she looked at the information he was reading. “Send me more files about Earth 121205.” He said as he leaned back. Then a few holographics screens popped in front of him, as he started reading through them, he was a bit suspicious. 

“What year is this earth’s timeline currently in?” He asked her, as he kept reading the newspaper clippings displayed on the holographic yellow screens. “2023, the same year you met Miles in his earth’s timeline and a few others..” She looked at her nails when she told him that. “Then, why can I only see newspaper clippings of the year 2016? I can’t search for anything after the date July 30th 2016.” Miguel furrowed his eyebrows as he tried searching for more information about this earth. Because the more information he has about the earth then he’ll know which group of spidermans’ to assign the mission for the anomaly capture. Lyla decided to search more about it as she tried to pull up every possible file that has information for Earth 121205. “Huh, that’s strange.” She commented as she read one of the files. “What? What is it?” He asked her curiously. 

“Something strange happened… Almost 8 billion of the world’s population vanished on the night of the 30th of July 2016. Except for one…. You know those random signals we’d randomly get a few years back, before you even created the spider society?” Lyla looked at Miguel with widened eyes. “Yes, and I told you to… find a way to shut them down so it won't bother me again because I initially thought that they were just spam messages.” Miguel slowly told her as he started to realize something.

His eyes got wide and looked at Lyla. “Oh, buddy. They were SOS signaled messages now I realized about it.” Lyla whispered to him in shock. “Shit.” Miguel said to himself as he started to text a message to Jessica Drew. “Miguel, what are you doing?” asked Lyla as she floated above him. “Sending a message to Jess, it's still an anomaly capture but the anomaly can be dealt with easily because it's Kingpin and we know his usual weaknesses, but it will be more of a sightseeing mission as soon as the anomaly has been dealt with.” Miguel explained to Lyla as he sent the message to Jess. “Alright, well, goodluck, Miguel.” Lyla waved before disappearing away. 

"Are you sure about this mission being just the two of us?" Jess raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure. Now, like we planned, you haul in the anomaly back here so they can be shipped back to their earth while I'll go check something that I should've done years ago." He told her as they both got ready for the mission. He looked down at his gizmo and typed down the coordinates for Earth 121205. A portal opened up in front of them, they both took a deep breath before walking into uncharted territory, the uncharted territory of Earth 121205. They stepped into the portal, and now they were in a forest with a brick road along. 

Jess looked down on her gizmo and did a quick scan of the area. “The anomaly is a few miles from here, this should be a quick mission. Let’s swing from there, yeah?” Jess asked him as she turned her gizmo off. Miguel nodded and the both of them started to swing along the trees. They both stopped as they gasped, they stood on the strong branch of one of the trees. “I thought you said this earth was almost desolate.” Jess commented to Miguel. “Almost.” Miguel repeated before they continued to swing into the place.

The surroundings were buildings, fully intact. Nature has taken over but as decoration, wrapping around the manmade structures. The pathway was made of red bricks or wooden planks. As they searched for the anomaly around, they came across, what they assumed, was one of the farming fields; 4 acres of farming grounds with crops and plants growing. They continued to walk along and Jess immediately pulled Miguel aside, behind a building. “What? What’d you see?” Miguel asked her. “A mountain lioness walking around freely,” Jess whispered to him, she then looked behind and they started to walk along the alleyway instead to avoid the mountain lioness. As Miguel and Jess continued their exploration, they felt an eerie stillness in the air, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. The surroundings were a blend of post-apocalyptic ruins and overgrown flora, creating a surreal and haunting ambiance. But there, amidst the vegetation-covered buildings, they finally spotted the anomaly they sought – Kingpin.

Kingpin stood tall and imposing, his mutant features immediately apparent. His skin was a mix of scales and fur, and his eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity. As they readied themselves for the ambush, they noticed the faint shimmer of energy that surrounded him, a testament to his immense power.

Suddenly, with inhuman speed, Kingpin detected their presence and charged at them like a wild, animalistic monster. His growls reverberated through the air, sending shivers down their spines. Without a moment to spare, Miguel and Jess instinctively separated, each trying to gain an advantage over their formidable opponent.

As Kingpin closed in, his furious shouts unleashed powerful sound waves that hit both Jess and Miguel with staggering force, slamming them against the moss-covered brick wall with bone-jarring impact. The wall cracked slightly under immense pressure, but despite the pain, both heroes mustered their resilience and quickly regained their footing, determination etched on their faces.

Miguel's talons glinted in the faint light as he lunged at Kingpin, aiming to find a vulnerable spot in the creature's defenses. Kingpin's scales provided some protection, but Miguel's precision and agility allowed him to land a few slashing blows, causing thin lines of crimson to trickle down the mutant's side.

Meanwhile, Jess's mind raced as she analyzed the situation. She knew that brute force alone wouldn't be enough to bring down Kingpin. Her training and instincts kicked in as she utilized her acrobatics and martial arts skills to dodge his attacks. With each dodge, she fired bursts of her webbing, trying to entangle Kingpin and restrict his movements. Some strands wrapped around his limbs, but the mutant's strength was extraordinary, and he managed to break free with a roar.

Drawing on her intellect and quick thinking, Jess realized she needed to distract Kingpin to create an opening for her and Miguel to exploit. With a burst of creativity, she used her webbing to create a decoy of herself, projecting it a few yards away from her real position. Kingpin, falling for the ruse, pounced on the illusion, and Jess seized the opportunity.

She darted in, unleashing a barrage of well-placed punches and kicks, targeting Kingpin's vital spots. Her fists felt the impact of hitting tough scales, but she didn't falter, using her agility to dance around him, always staying one step ahead. Each blow weakened Kingpin, and the realization that he wasn't invincible began to take its toll on his once-confident demeanor.

As Kingpin continued to be perplexed and harassed, Miguel pressed on with his attack. He did this by using his speed and agility. He progressively wore down Kingpin's defenses with the help of his razor-sharp claws, which left traces of wounds along his body.

While the two heroes fought the enormous oddity, the surroundings transformed into a battlefield with objects like vines and trash being flung aside. Kingpin's ferocious roars and Jess's resolute grunts were mixed in with the sound of warfare as it reverberated through the empty streets.

Their combined efforts began to bear fruit as Kingpin's movements slowed, his anger giving way to frustration. He struggled to cope with their coordinated assault, and gradually, the tides turned in favor of the heroes. They exploited every opening, working together like a well-oiled machine, each knowing the other's strengths and weaknesses.

As Jess and Miguel focused on webbing Kingpin, they quickly realized the extent of the anomaly's power. His struggles against the cocoon of webs intensified, and with a fierce burst of energy, he tore through the sticky bindings, breaking free with a force that sent shockwaves through the air.

In a split second, Kingpin lunged at Jess, catching her off guard with his sudden burst of strength. With a mighty shove, he sent her hurtling backward, her body colliding with the brick wall. The impact was brutal, and a sharp pain shot through her head as her vision momentarily blurred. Dazed and disoriented, she fought to stay conscious, determined not to let the pain weaken her resolve, but as her breathing slowed down and the adrenaline that rushed through her body started to lower down, she couldn’t keep conscious anymore and fainted.

Meanwhile, Miguel attempted to regain his balance after the unexpected release of Kingpin's power. But before he could steady himself, Kingpin's massive hand slammed into his back, crushing him against the mossy brick wall. The air was knocked out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath as pain flared along his spine. The world seemed to spin around him, and he struggled to stay upright.

With both heroes momentarily incapacitated, Kingpin roared triumphantly, savoring the upper hand he had gained. He advanced menacingly, his eyes locked on his vulnerable adversaries. The anomaly was relentless, and he saw this as an opportunity to assert his dominance over these would-be challengers. Miguel started to breathe heavily, taking in deep breaths as he assessed the situation, trying to find a way to subdue the anomaly while still keeping himself conscious. His sight starts to darken and his breathing starts to slow down, pain rushing through his body as the adrenaline soon wears off.

But he remained conscious long enough, with slow blinks to unconsciousness, as he watches and hears another web being shot out, Kingpin getting scratched with another set of talons and being subdued finally in a cocoon of webs. Miguel can barely see as he sees another person standing in front of him, he slowly looks up, seeing a glimpse of a tattered hood with the shadows hiding the eyes of the savior before he finally passes out from exhaustion and pain. His last thought was that he hoped that Jess was okay, because he knows that she’s only laying down just a few steps away from him, also badly hurt like him.

Throbbing pain was all he could feel all over his body and head. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He looked around to see that there was a heart monitor on his left side and an IV bag dripping with the needle connected into his vein on the back of his hand. He looked past the heart monitor to see another monitor but beside that was Jess resting and with bandages wrapped around her head. Whoever helped them had enough strength to carry both of them and place them here in this makeshift infirmary. The door slowly opened and immediately Miguel was on guard but it revealed the same hood he saw before passing out. He can see that when they looked at him, there were hints of recognition in their brown eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” The person asked as they walked in, rolling a cart with a bowl of mushroom soup, a plate of 4 slices of soft white bread and a glass of water. “Headache. Pain.” Miguel grumbled in his gruff voice. "That's normal. Here. Eat some soup and drink some water." They whispered to him as they rolled the cart near him, near for him to reach easily. Miguel reached out for the glass of water and drank it, loving the way it relieved his parched and dry throat. "How long was I out?" He asked them. "Only a few hours at best. 3-4 hours to be specific." They shrugged as Miguel placed the glass back to the cart and reached out to bowl of mushroom soup and the spoon. He started to eat the soup, while occasionally taking a bite of the soft bread. "Hm. Good soup." Miguel complimented them. They stayed silent, sitting on a nearby chair while waiting for him to finish the soup and bread. 

"So… You know who I am yet I don't know who you are." Miguel looked at them as they gazed at their hands. "I know that you and Jess are spidermen in different earths and that the multiverse was also real but I didn't think that I would see the proof of it in front of my eyes. I also know that you’re Miguel O’Hara from the year 2099… I’m also a spiderman, I guess. I was bitten by a radioactive spider that was from the leftover radioactive waste and coincidentally, most of my abilities are the same as yours with the paralyzing venomous fangs, talons, claws, enhanced senses. I also have the spider sense and the organic web shooters but you don't have that, do you? You’re 50% spider and you don't have the common spider abilities that most civilians are familiar with.” They told him. “What’s your name?” Miguel asked them. They chuckled softly. “It’s been 7 years since someone asked me that question, someone that’s human, that is…” They said with a smile but started to frown. “Honestly, I’ve forgotten my name. A name is useless if there is no one to call you by it. You can give me a name if you’d like.” They asked him as they looked up at him. 

Miguel stared at them a bit longer, analyzing them. The person’s skin was brown, marred with scars and scratches. Their hands show calluses that he assumed were from farming. Their hair was a long dark brown but healthy. Their clothes were decent, torn and worn but still good enough to showcase a look. “Ethan.” Miguel finally said. They nodded at him. “The name is Ethan then. Nice to meet you, Spiderman.” They tell him, holding out their hand for a handshake and Miguel shakes it. “Hello, Ethan. It is nice to meet you. Thank you for your help with the anomaly back there and for healing Jess and me.” Miguel said before he realized something, “What happened to the Kingpin anomaly?” He asked them. “Oh, that guy? Well, he’s locked in an asylum cell right now, resting and still subdued. You can get him once the two of you are well rested.” Ethan said as they stood up and rolled the cart out. They opened the door and before they left, they turned to look at Miguel and asked, “May I join the Spider Society?” Miguel looked them in the eyes. “Please?” They added, there was a bit of desperation in their tone. Miguel looked down and closed his eyes before sighing deeply. “We’ll see.” He said to Ethan.