#Blood riot bang

[poly-pan-0118]

https://bloodriotbang.carrd.co/

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 35

Part 1 Part 34

The shower Eddie finally takes, after over a week of rotting in Steve’s clothes, should be a relief. His head is no longer itchy. He washes the ash out of his eyes, and Steve’s blood out from beneath his nails. Replaces grime with the smell of the clinical nothingness that is the toiletries the hospital provided.

His breath no longer feels like it’s wilting the air around him after he brushes his teeth. The scrubs he changes into are stiff, but clean and dry.

It should be a relief. But, Steve is out of his sight, quiet and small in his hospital bed.

Wayne will keep him safe, he knows. But who will hold his hand if he wakes up again, delirious? Who will sooth him back to sleep?

He hurries the whole process, bangs plastered to his forehead, hair dripping down the back of his borrowed scrub top.

When he rushes out of the bathroom and into Steve’s hospital room, Wayne’s closer to Steve’s bed then he was when he left him, hand clasping Steve’s own, and staring down at him with a look on his face that Eddie’s only ever seen directed at him before. 

It’s just like when Eddie’d kicked the hole in the plaster of the trailer. Or when Wayne had been called in by Hopper after one infraction or another. Or when he comes home after a session of Hellfire, and regales his uncle with the beat-by-beat replay of the action. 

Like fondness and exasperation are warring for space in the purse of his mouth.

“What happened?” Eddie asks. The linolium is cold on his bare feet as he walks over to retake his own seat at Wayne’s side. 

“Your boy woke up just long enough to ask how you were and then pass back out,” he says, glancing at Eddie, eyes twinkling.

“Did he seem–” Eddie starts, looking down at Steve’s relaxed face. “Is he okay?”

The doctors won’t tell them anything. They’re not his emergency contacts, not family. No one seems to care that no one’s been able to contact the Harrington’s for the two days Steve’s been rotting away in the hospital, alone, save for them. Eddie’s mind drifts back to the way Steve had hid so instinctually in his closet, like he needed a safe place in what should have already been safe, and wants to wring their skinny necks. 

Wayne gently maneuvers his hand out from beneath Steve’s own. Steve’s fingers curl into a loose fist, grasping at air, like he’s seeking the warmth of Wayne’s skin even in his sleep. Wayne sits back in his seat, crossing his ankles as he settles with a sigh.

“He’ll be just fine,” Wayne says, turning in his chair to try to catch Eddie’s eyes. “That boy cares about you.”

He says it like it’s a revelation, but Eddie’s not surprised. He can feel it in the tug at his sternum. The way Steve’s eyes had looked through Eddie’s tears as he’d pressed his forehead to his. Like recognizes like.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “He does.”

The Eddie of two weeks ago would’ve been standing on a table top about it. Saying jocks are a monolith, and Steve is the most jock of them all. He would’ve rioted about King Steve Harrington and his corrupt court of lackeys trying to buy his way into Eddie’s good books. For drugs. Or clout. Or something fucking stupid. Eddie would’ve raged against the machine, a riot in the making. 

But that’s not his Steve. Maybe it was never Steve at all. Things look different from up close, and their lunch tables were always so far away. 

Will Steve sit with him at lunch? He doesn’t look much like Steve the Hair Harrington anymore. His hairs been shaved down to the quick. They’d had to, just to get to the wound trailing up Steve’s forehead and into his hair. He can’t imagine this Steve, hurt and small, sitting with the jocks, throwing fries at Tommy Hagan. 

The thought of school after all of this is like hives crawling up his spine. They’d died, risen back up again to end up back at fucking high school. 

“I want to go home,” Eddie says. But he means his trailer a week and a half ago, before he was split into thirds. Before Steve Harrington and Will Byers. Before.

“You can,” Wayne says, scooting over in his chair so he can wrap his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, dragging him uncomfortably over the arm rest for a pseudo hug.

Eddie looks down at Steve’s sleeping face, wonders when home stopped just being a trailer and Uncle Wayne. Things change so fast when you’re running.

It’s a long night.

Eddie sleeps uncomfortably, propped up in his chair. Wayne drapes a scratchy blanket over him on his way out the door, off to work. 

His dreams are full of shadows spilling out of the ground. Chasing him, and he’s always running but never getting anywhere. Of Steve’s back and Steve’s blood and Steve’s vacant eyes. 

He wakes up to fingers combing through his hair, head pillowed on Steve’s hospital bed, blanket slipped off and onto the floor. It’s dark. One of the nurses must have turned off the lights.

The first day Eddie’d refused to leave, they’d given him his own oxygen mask and deluge of tests, propped up in his seat with Will similarly chained to his side. The second day, they’d tried to get him to go home, get out of the way. 

They’d stopped trying to kick him out the day before. 

The fingers move through his hair, pulling at the knots Eddie hadn’t bothered to comb out. Uncle Wayne must be back from his shift. Or maybe, it’s Mama Byers again, checking up on him again, as if she owes him anything at all.

“Hey.”

His heart ba-thump, ba-thump, tugs. He turns his head, smooshing it into the rough sheets to look up at the head of the bed. Steve’s eyes are open. He smiles hazily down at Eddie, uncoordinatedly petting at his head.

Eddie’s lungs heave, trying to vacate his body all together with the pressure of their seizing. He sobs, raising his hand to trail up across Steve’s cheek, impossibly soft after everything. “You’re such a fucking prick,” he says, heat lost in the way he’s blubbering into the sheets.

Steve smiles, like he’s never seen anything as great as Eddie Munson making a mess of himself at his bedside. It’s probably the morphine. “I know.”

“I dared you to stay alive,” Eddie says. “And then you just–”

He’s choking, too much to finish, like Steve’s not breathing in front of him again, or bleeding out in front of him. Steve’s always dying, and Eddie’s always crying about it. 

“I did,” Steve says, still petting his head. It hurts a little. Eddie’s hair’s a mess of tangled curls atop his head. He never wants Steve to stop touching him. “I said I’d come home.”

Eddie cries. He’s not a cryer, but something’s flipped in him, making him weepy. Like the expectation of grief unrealized keeps bubbling up his throat and bleeding out his eyes. Steve Harrington, his own living ghost, smiles down at him. 

“I’m so tired,” Eddie says. It’s a whine, the consonants drawn out and wet at the edges. 

Steve’s still smiling, dopey and tired and perfect. He pats the spot next to him. “Come here.”

It’s a bad idea. Steve’s hurt. But Eddie’s so weak. The thing in his ribs tugs. Eddie follows it.

He crawls under Steve’s shitty hospital bedding, tucking his wet face into Steve’s neck, arm slung carefully over his chest. “You’ll still be alive when I wake up?” Eddie asks, trying to make it a joke. As if Steve’s lifeless eyes aren’t still looking at him from dreamland.

“Promise,” Steve says.

It feels like Steve’s lips on his forehead, quick and fleeting. In the wee hours of the morning, Eddie and Steve fall asleep.

Part 36

[yaut-jaknowit]

Think of this yeah, Predators and the PURGE. The one time of the year where everyone is trying to kill one another. It'll be like a birthday party for them.

They encounter reader who is running away from a group who infiltrated her house. They kill her agressors allowing her a chance to escape.

Reader, thankful for the predators intervention saves it when it is heavily injured later on that night and helps it hide from the authorities when dawn breaks.

The Purge

Pairing: Dai'stbaen (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Warnings: Kinda gory?, decapitation, blood

Word Count: 3928

Summary: Every year, on the same day, chaos is allowed to break loose. This year, you are caught up in trouble you didn't think would happen. Let alone what you find participating in this year's hunt. No would believe.

Author Note: I love this! It's such a classic idea. They really should make a crossover movie or at least a book about this. Reminds me of Predator 2 with City Hunter in the city.

Masterlist

Ao3

Everyone knew this day was coming. A day that brought upon extreme emotions from the pit of their stomachs. Including yourself. Someone who didn’t want to be caught up into the chaos of people dying and the riots. You decided to barricade yourself in your house, armed with a few weapons. Anything to help you to survive till the next day.

When the message began to scream through the T.V about todays events, you find yourself locked away in your room. You are armed to the teeth with knives, a few guns, bats, and other weapons. Whatever you could get your hands on, you collected it. Today is not the day you die.

After the T.V went silent, you held your breath and waited for the first sign of death to pierce the tense air. You jumped at the first shot with the setting sun. This wasn’t the first purge, nor the second you’ve endured. To this day, you count your lucky stars you’ve managed to survive through each of those. Today is no different. You will survive.

Gun fire was sharp in the air outside of your house. Neighbors getting rid of disputes in the harshest of ways. Those who are dark inside of their soul, taking their anger out on anyone who dared to step foot out of the safety of their house. Not you. Yes, you had some pent up anger over life but to possibly loose your life to another, you wouldn’t chance it.

The front door groaned when a massive weight was thrown against it. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, heartbeat beginning to quicken. This couldn’t be happening.

Your blood ran cold when another bang echoed through the hallway. Who… why? Your mind races to think who would come after you. Who have you screwed over enough to have them come kill you? Not someone you didn’t want to meet but the choice wasn’t yours to make anymore.

On the third slam, the wooden door frame gave way. The door crashed into the wall and most likely left a knob sized hole behind. You flinched and clutched your pistol tightly while watching the bedroom door. Only a simple lock stopped anyone from waltzing in. With the way this person barreled your front door down with only three tries, means this will be nothing.

One of the known creaky floorboards let you know they were entering the hallway. Of course, your bedroom was the first door down this narrow hallway. Both doors to each bedroom may be closed but…

Wood splintered from the door frame. You yelped, hands coming up to take aim. Blood splattered over the floor with an ear splintering shot. Your gun cold. The attacker fell down to his knees then dropped face first into his own blood. The body of one of your neighbors laid dead in the doorway. Your jaw slumped at the very sight in your own home.

A dark figure stepped up behind the down body. An imposing frame that squeezed its way into the hallway. You could only watch the shadow form lean down and grasp the skull of your dead neighbor. A sickening sound filled the air. Bone ripped straight out of the flesh it was once encased with.

Surviving two of these purges, you’ve seen a fair share of gore and gruesome images… but this takes the cake.

Blood forever staining your carpet as this beast clipped the skull and spine to its belt. Frozen like a prey in headlights, you watched it pick up its head and gaze directly at you.

Instantly, you felt like prey in the face of a predator. You were next. But, your hand refused to squeeze the trigger. To do anything to defend yourself in the face of death. The barrel of the gun itself shook far too much to even make a clean shot on the attacker.

Its eyes glowed a deadly red before the shadow itself was gone. A few moments passed before you stumbled back against your bed and gripped at your head.

Nothing made sense. That was no human. Nothing in mankind could rip the skull cleanly out of another mans body like that did. You shuttered and heaved with each breath, attempting to suck out all the air in the room. That still wasn’t enough.

Once the thundering in your ears finally quieted, you took a lungful of air in then slowly breathed it out. You peeked down at the lifeless body of your neighbor again and cringed deeply at the sight. Copper was heavy in the air. You gnawed on your bottom lip and mauled over all of your thoughts.

The only place that resembled safety had been broken into and marred. Now, with the front door wide open and little to block anyone from just pushing it back open, you were faced with a hard decision. Either leave the comfort of your home and wander through the darkness of the night or stay as a sitting duck. If your neighbor who had to be mad you forgot to mow your grass one time was angry enough to attempt murder, there’s no telling who else could be coming for you.

Plus… that shadow figure. Who knows if it will come back to finish the job. You didn’t want to be here to find out.

With one last glance down at Richard, you stepped over his cooling body and headed towards the door. A rifle was strapped to your back; a pistol attached to your hand; multiple knives in various areas. All different kinds of weapons. You were prepared for whatever the night entailed.

Darkness clouded the streets. Even the light from the lamp posts struggle to fight off the consuming, inky blackness that had fell upon the world. You stayed off the streets, off the sidewalks and took backways through your neighborhood. The last thing you wanted was for someone to see you stalking through the night.

Every new sharp sound piercing the tense air soon dulled your anxiety. You jumped less and less until it no longer fazed you. All it was just another sound in the night, another thing that goes bump in the night. You steeled your gaze to peer around a corner.

At the far end of the street, you spotted a group of people marching their way down. You cursed lowly, under your breath. These were the type of people who craved these twelve hours of mauling. They were heavily prepared to destroy anything in their path. Including you if they spotted you.

You instantly ducked back behind the fence and shuffled after. In your state of panic, your foot caught the edge of some pipes randomly lying there. A yelp escaped. You fell face first into the ground.

The old, brittle PVC pipe instantly shattered from underneath your weight. Many shards piercing your skin. You shouted in pain and rolled off to the side, wiggling around on the ground. The realization of the situation that just fell into your lap struck you hard. You scrambled back to your feet and made a dash for it as you heard a taunting voice call through the night.

“We got another one boys!” Terror hit you deep in the stomach. Goosebumps crawled across your skin. You made a mad dash for an escape. Blood dripped down from your flesh. The white shards of PVC stained with same liquid. You grunted and kept sprinting as fast as your legs could take you.

A tiny thought in the back of mind was almost wishful for that creature’s help this time. Richard could’ve been an easier time to defend against then a group of at least ten chasing you.

Their stomps of feet echoing throughout your small neighborhood. It nearly overpowered the thundering of your heart in your ears. You panted and kept up the same speed until your legs cried for rest. They forced you to find shelter behind a nearby shed.

Plants and shrubbery easily hid you from sight. The dark of the night perfect camouflage from the attackers. You forced your breathing to slow down which in turn made you lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. But a little loss on brain cells is far better than the loss of your life.

“I saw them go this way,” a booming voice called to the group. Far too close for comfort. You tensed up, on the verge of holding your breath but forced yourself not to. It was too dark in this area to fully see the figures that were surely marching their way to your death.

Despite the multitude of weapons adorning your frame, there wasn’t a chance you could stand against them. One or two? Possible. Anymore than that and your chances begin to heavily dwindle. Hiding is the best possible chance you had in this terrifying moment. You stayed crouched down even though your skin burned with each move of your chest. The shards making it hard to breath without making shocking its way through your system.

The group stalked closer to your hiding spot. In the most tense moment of your life, feeling worse than prey, you felt the sudden piercing gaze of someone. Instantly, you knew your cover had been blown.

Before you could spring to life to make another escape or go down in a blaze of flying bullets, lightning shot through the air. It struck a dark figure close to your hiding spot. The light just bright enough to reveal a dark figure perched on top of a roof.

All of the people who followed you shouted and began to fire off rounds of ammo. You covered your ears after the first few pops. You were in no condition to make another sprint for it. The group was distracted by… whatever had attacked them. Possibly, they would lose interest in you and go after this offender. Then, you could limp your way home after this horrible adventure outdoors. This is why you stayed home during the purge. Nothing good came from leaving the safety of your house.

A sharp whistle then a dull ‘thunk’ had you jumping in your hiding spot. A shrill scream died out with wet gargling. For the second time that night, you watched someone die right before you. You covered your mouth so no sounds to escape and alert anyone to your presence.

More gun fire ensued less than a moment after the first death. But, you knew it wouldn’t stop there.

Their direction changed to another rooftop, away from you. You glanced at the opening before your very eyes but knew it wasn’t the time. Not with the way your legs shook just barely holding some of your weight. Nor the way your body trembled with the aftershocks of a heavy adrenaline dump unfortunately wearing off.

Through the leaves of the small hideout spot, you observed in anticipation. The darkness of the night made it hard to truly see the gruesome scene unfold before your very eyes. Yet, the sounds… the sounds of dying people will forever haunt your nightmares till the day you died.

More arrows whistled through the air before hitting their mark head on. Each person dying with a terrifying screaming before their dying breath left them.

Whoever this was stragtic about the way they picked off the group members until who had to be their leader was left. He stood, knees knocking against one another, but he still held up his gun and waited for his time to come. Yet, the man wasn’t going to let this creature take him down.

A dull thump sounded to your right. With your hand still covering your mouth, the yelp that about escape was muffled. Light step waxed away from your trembling form. The form stalked towards its last prey. You watched as it pull a whip from its belt then gave a sharp crack of it.

The low light from both the moon and far away lamp posts light the metal. The whip straightened into a sword before your very eyes. Your jaw dropped to the floor. The figure expertly wielded the weapon with a cocky twirl then pointed it at the last person alive from the ground.

Said person about faced at the crack with his own weapon aimed directly at the dark figure. More shots heated the barrel of his pistol. The shadow used both their speed and sword to either block or dodge each attempt. Then, the man was out of bullets.

When he reached to reload his gun with a new magazine, the shadow was sudden in front of him. A dark hand engulfed his throat and lifted him easily off of the ground. Something low was grumbled into the air, too deep for you to understand. Then, the man was thrown onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. You were thankful whatever this thing was decided to spare you. At least for the moment.

The beast itself tossed its sword off to the side then thump a fist against its chest. A deep bellow vibrated the very air around you and caused goosebumps to run up your arms. Both of its arms were spread. A challenge. No matter who or what looked at this scene, the dark figure was issuing a challenge.

This was man was dead. You saw the way this creature had to squeeze into your hallway, even ducking down not to bang its head on your ceiling. He was going to die in even a more brutal way than his fellow companions.

“So, that’s how its going to be, huh?” the man grunted and readied his fists. “Wanna go hand to hand? Man to man? We can do that.” He cracked his neck and punched the air, warming up. “Let’s fight.”

With a car cry, he lunged forward with a mean hit. In a blink of an eye, his hand was caught mid-swing then tossed to the side. You gnawed on your bottom lip while keeping a palm there to contain any noises.

The two of them begin to circle one another. Each step carefully placed while they sized the other up. The man’s chances were slim by the hulking form. He rushed forward again with another fist aimed for the stomach. Yet, his hit never made contact. His fist was blocked. Instead, he felt the burning sensation of his skin being spilt.

Clothing ripped. A cry rolled off of the man’s tongue. He started rapid punches towards the shadow who only grunted and stumbled back a couple of steps. Each step, the man followed then smashed his foot into the side of his attacker’s knee. You heard a pop then a snarl pierce the tension.

Without much sight, you could feel the seething rolling off of the shadow in waves. Even it made you want to turn tail and run like the prey you are. But that would reveal you to the both of them. Whoever won in the end would be far too tired to come after you. The perfect chance to make a run for it and never look back.

As the towering figure returned to its full height, the man stumbled back and had to understand his mistake in the situation. “Shit,” he mumbled into the air. Well, he sure did.

In flurry of shadows and consuming darkness, you could barely keep up with the beast. It launched itself forward with great sped that your mind didn’t register that it had moved. Fury of swipes and punches sent the man flying backwards and slamming into a tree with a sickening crack. He cried out and writhed on the ground.

It’s shoulders heaved then it began to march towards the man’s doom. The way it stepped, careless but wanted to show off its prowess. Both man and beast knew who had won and who had lost. It was time to reap the rewards of its downed prey.

While in the midst of its fury, its sight was directly zoned in on the prey downed by its hand.

Creaking of metal croaked through the air before snapping shut. You gasped loudly which was drowned out by the roar of pain sounding from the shadow. It collapsed to its bad knee with another snarl of agony and stayed there, chest heaving. The bottom of your lip had started to bleed at this point.

The glint of metal through the darkness caught your eye. The once writhing man had collected himself enough to point the barrel of his gun directly at his attacker. His aim trembled as he struggled to straighten it to ensure the bullet met its target.

Your eyes darted between the injured shadow and the man ready to take back the night. The rifle on your back was suddenly heavy. Now, you were faced with a difficult decision that felt like either side wasn’t great. But… the shadow hadn’t attacked you and practically saved you against Richard. No. You had an obligation to save it and could only pray it wouldn’t kill you afterwards. Not once you would reveal your position to it.

Cool, night air entered your lungs with a deep inhale. You quietly pulled the rifle from your back and took aim. Despite the darkness sitting heavy on the air, you find your mark quickly and looked down the sight. The barrel trembled and swayed as you took an extra second to gather your bearings. Before you could overthink the situation, you pulled down on the trigger.

The rifle jerked back into your shoulder safely. You looked over the sight to see the unmoving figure on the ground, lifeless. Your ears rung with the shattering blast.

It tensed at the shot, head snapping over in your direction. It was your turn to be under the scrutiny gaze of the predator. Your spot had been compromised. You shakily stood up and stepped out of from behind the bushes expertly hiding in. Both of your legs tremble from your earily sprint through the night. But, you ignored it and moved a few timid steps closer to the beast.

Both of you gazed at the other, trying to read any intentions. Good or bad. The shadow was the first to break the stare off to reach down. With large hands, it pried off what caught its foot. A bear trap. Not one you’ve ever seen before.

In the dark of the night, neon green blood poured its new wounds created by the trap. This only strengthened the thought this wasn’t a person. Not with its size or speed, let alone what it was wearing and now the glowing blood seeping from it. But… if it can defend and attack ten people by itself, it was best to friend it until dawn rose. With this thing back your side, your chances of survive tenfolded.

You situated your rifle onto your back again. “I’d consider ourselves even but I’m not one to leave someone to be injured,” you spoke softly into the night air, encase there were others close by. You slowly toed close to it. Predator or prey, an injury will make either more desperate and wild. “You can come with me to my house. It’s just around the corner. We can camp there until morning.”

All you could do in the moment was pray it would take up your offer and allow you to shelter it. Not completely to be nice but mostly for your survival. Plus, having a friend to sit with during a time like this wasn’t bad to endure.

Only a few feet separated you and the beast. Even with it on its injured knee, it was a hulking form. Barrel chest, muscles adorning every single inch of its body. No wonder it took out those people with little trouble.

It picked up its strangely shaped head. You heard something rubbery tapping against metal. With the darkness, it was hard to tell the finer details about your newfound companion. Again, you didn’t feel like judging it when it could help you in this situation.

With the bear trap off of its foot, it returned to its full height and towered over you. You gulped and tilted your head back to look up at it. The shadow moved forward directly into your space. It was the moment it chose to either kill you or join you. You waited with bated breath.

Despite the night, you saw the way it dipped itself. You perked up and felt the corners of your mouth perking up in a miniature smile. “Okay.” You nodded your head in rapid movement to hyper yourself up. “Alrighty, let’s go then. Are you able to walk by yourself?” Not that you could carry its weight or even hold it up if it couldn’t. But it was nice to ask anyhow.

All you received was a short growl. Okay then, that was your answer. You kept your trap shut and began to lead the beast towards your home.

When you arrived home shortly after defending the beast, you dragged Richards cold body out of the house and barricaded the door to the best of your ability. You showed the figure to your bathroom while keeping the lights off. Anything to not draw attention to your house. A light would do that. You did your best to wash your hands and face then peered at your injured self in the mirror. The shards of PVC still lodged into your skin.

A hand landed on your shoulder and scared the shit out of you. It took a lot of skill to prevent yourself from screaming out in fright. You glanced behind you at the figure having to slightly hunch over in your bathroom. It motioned towards the plastic in your chest and arms.

“Ah, yeah… I fell when I was trying to run away,” you mumbled and rubbed at a spot behind your neck. The creature seemed to pause for a moment and left you standing there. You shrugged it off then bent over to grab the first aid kit from the cabinet underneath the sink.

It lumbered over to the bathtub’s edge and sat down. You ignored it for the most part to begin working on your own wounds. You could only hope that none of these would get infected or else a hospital visit tomorrow was going to suck terribly.

With no light to guide your hand, it was hard to use the tweezers to grasp all the pieces in your skin. It got to a point where you slammed your hand down on the counter with a huff. You hung your head and took a deep breath in.

A grunt sounded from your right. You glanced over to find the shadow looking at you, its hand held out. “What?” you snapped at it then glanced down at the tweezers in your hand. “Oh, you want these? Fine, not like I’m good at using the-ack!” When you reached to drop the tool into its awaiting palm, it snatched your wrist and tugged you towards it. You were pushed onto the closed toilet seat, arm forced towards the creature.

All of this happened so quickly that you barely had time to register it starting to pluck the PVC from your skin. You blinked a few times to comprehend what was happening before letting it continue. And in return, you helped set its kneecap back into place and wrap its ankle up. What quite a pair the two of you are.

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

masterlist playlist

Part 2: The Hideout

You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.

word count: 3.6k

My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.

Songs for this chapter: Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P. No one like you//Scorpions Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot Wasted Years//Iron Maiden

a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.

Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees.  It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.  

It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment.  There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.

A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.

“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.

She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place.  The head maintenance guy.  This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from.  “Both him and his nephew Eddie.  Have you met Eddie?”

You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.  

The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light.  From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.  

“Ready?” She smiled back at  you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.  

“Let me?” You lurched forward.

“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them. 

Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face.  She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.  

The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle.  You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night. 

Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them.  A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part.  Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches.  An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.  

Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something.  Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.  

Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind.  You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.  

You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare.  When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.  

“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down.  “We call it The Hideout.”

“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.  

“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her. 

“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment.  “They're playing tonight?”

There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music.  Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door. 

“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen.  You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.

It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.  

He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.

He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach.  You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.  

“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.  

“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall.  “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”

Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd.  Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink.  He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.  

“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.  

“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”

“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene.  A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.

“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice.  “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors.  Totally full of himself.”

Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction.  Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.

He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.

He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him.  It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you.  You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes.  On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.  

Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.  

“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation.  He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.

Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there.  “She came with me, she’s cool.”

Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.  

Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest.  But then, finally, it came to you:

“I-I carried your baby.”

The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.

Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.

You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.  

“I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands. 

Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.  

“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers.  Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action.  “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser.  Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”

At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand.  It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.  

“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.  

Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.  

Eddie could read Lance like a book.  A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have.  Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.

Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.

Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back. 

Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.

…what were you doing there at the Hideout?

He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side. 

You were not supposed to be there.  What was Robin thinking?

Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.  

Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .

“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd. 

And that was all it took

For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.

Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.  

The surfer boy went down

Hard. 

Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.

It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.

“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.

Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.

“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.  

Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.

With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.

But then there was someone at your side,

“Not like that,” a voice said.

Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.  

“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one.  You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.  

“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket.  He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.  

It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can.  He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.  

The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.  

It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty.  He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.  

You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry.  “I-I’m not sure I—”

Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.  

Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer.  You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.  

With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum.  Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.

“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”

You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.

“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest.  He put a hand on the back of your head.  “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”

You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.  

Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.  

“You ready?”

You weren’t but—-

“Okay, now.”

You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious.  Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.  

The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.  

You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed. 

Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

An actual chill ran down your spine.

Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five.  “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked.  “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”

“Ha. Ha.” 

You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”

You were about to say the two of you should do another one, 

but he was gone.  

—----

The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.   

The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove.  He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.  

He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins.  There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow.  The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.  

Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut.  His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.

It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks. 

It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.  

He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.

He cut to the right and up the grass.

Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.

He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.  

He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.

The cello, of course that’s what you were playing.  He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.  

You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.

Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.  

In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.

Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.  

The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.

But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you. 

There was no one there.    

-----

Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.

thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.

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taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hobie Brown/Spider Punk x GN!Reader

Summary: A protest turns to a riot and the riot turns into a massacre. You narrowly escape being murdered by a filthy pig, thanks to the one and only Spider-Punk, oh wait, Spider-MAN of Earth-138.

1.6k Words!

A/N: I don't see a lot of people talking about this side of Hobie's universe, so I thought I'd write something about it

TW: Mentions of blood and death, gunshots, tear gas, policy brutality

____________________________________________________________

"Shit, my bad"

You hear the words slip out of your mouth as you take a step away from who must be the third person you've accidentally bumped into in this crowd. Usually your clumsiness would draw attention from people, a couple scowls, maybe even some harsh language, but right now everyone was too focused on yelling their lungs out, pumping their fists in the air and shoving their decorated posters into the faces of the numerous pigs that were trying to hold off the crowd from entering one of Norman Osborne's many luxurious mansions.

It was another protest, this one specifically against Osborne's bright new idea to pass a law allowing corrupted corporations to decrease the pay rates even more, which would send hundreds of thousands of the already struggling blue-collar workers of London into worsened poverty. Run by punks and many others, this protest was turning from peaceful into something pretty nasty. Slurs, pebbles and even bottles were being thrown from both sides of the front line, just begging for one group to break before the other.

By break of course, you meant turn incredibly violent. Protests like these always did. They were meant to convince Osborne, maybe even force him to turn these laws, these policies, his horrific mindset, but they never did. The most that would happen was a death or two, either of a protestor or a police officer, and the next day, it would be like nothing even happened.

As you make your way through the crowd, trying to get to the front of the lines, you find yourself colliding with the chest of an abnormally tall man. You grabbed your nose, a sharp pain spreading from the tip. "Piece of-" You stop yourself as you look up at him, watching a slightly confused expression spread across his face as he towered over you. "Sorry 'bout that, peng. You a'right?"

"yeah, I'm fine" you grumbled, trying to move past him. "You trying to get the front, lass?" He asked, a slightly amused look on his face as he watched you try to push your way through the dense load of people standing in front you both. "I was" you replied, giving him another look before you successfully squeezed in between the group of people that you'd been trying to infiltrate before. "Be careful. Its not safe up there" you heard him call out to you, his tone sounding a bit patronizing yet comforting at the same time, like he cared at least a little bit about your well-being. You turned to reply, but he'd already disappeared through the crowd, his head and wicks visible over the top of the crowd due to his height.

The yelling had gotten louder and the protestors had begun throwing sticks at the cops near the front who were yelling right back, threatening to use force if necessary. They wouldn't dare on a crowd this large. There was no way.

You had made your way near the front, not caring enough to be gentle at this point and practically shoving past some of the people in order to have a better view at the front. A chant had started and you joined in, determined to make the most of your presence.

"FUCK OSBORNE."

"RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE"

The chant repeated over and over, getting louder and louder each time as more people joined in, more and more bottles getting thrown over the makeshift fences, the cops getting frustrated, trigger-happy fingers moving closer and closer towards-

BANG BANG

Screams and shouts flooded your senses as your body automatically ducked, your hands flying to cover your head. The yelling intensified, deafening slurs and shrieks sending sharp ringing sounds through your ears as you felt the people around you begin to move, some bursting through the officers' defenses, others scrambling to find safety from the guns and, oh god, the tear gas. A gas meant to be non-lethal was being sprayed directly into the eyes and mouths of those unlucky enough to be in the general vicinity of the officers, the pigs having no mercy towards the helpless protestors stuck in the struggling crowds.

BANG BANG

The gunshots didn't stop, and you felt yourself fall back as someone shoved themselves past you, your elbows being scraped by the rough, cold pavement. You winced. That was gonna leave a nasty scar. You scrambled to your feet, but found yourself met with the head of a pistol, pointed directly between your eyes. "Scum of the earth." You heard a man mutter, his uniform decorated with multiple medals and badges. You felt your body shaking with fear as you slowly got to your feet, the man's hands trembling as his fingers moved toward the trigger. If I die, I die on my feet.

A flash of red and blue passed you, taking the psychotic pig with him, your eyes catching a small glimpse of his mask right before they were both slammed into the wall. The masked man slung his guitar off his back and smashed it against the cop's head, effectively killing him in one hit. The one and only Spider-punk had arrived.

He wildly turned to look at you, the eyes of his mask widening when he saw your bleeding state, but he didn't have time to focus on you. He swung toward the small huddle of police officers that were still terrorizing the crowd, leaving you behind to find safety. But of course, being the stubborn idiot you were, you weren't going to do that.

"Help!"

A young woman was sitting with her back against the wall, her leg all bloody and misshapen, her eyes swollen from the tear gas. She'd been shot, probably more than once from the look of it. But Spider-punk was busy, so you'd have to take care of her. "Hey, its gonna be okay" you said in a soft voice, trying to calm her down and snap her out of her crying state. She babbled, obviously in shock of what had happened, muttering incoherent sentences full of slurred praises for you as you helped her to her feet, letting her lean on your as the two of you limped away. There were cops everywhere, yelling and shooting, the tear gas flooding your eyes and your throat, making it difficult to breathe. But you had to help her. Because if you couldn't, what was the use of being here?

You helped her toward a small group of other protestors that had gathered, trying to help people out, handing her over for them to drive to safety in their cars which had only just arrived in order to get people out of there while Spider-punk did his job.

You turned around to watch as the masked man smashed his guitar against their heads, kicking, punching, throwing. It was a gruesome sight. My hero, you thought to yourself.

You were snapped out of the confinement of your thoughts when you noticed one of the cops approaching you, gun in his hand. Not this again. Thinking quickly, you grabbed a broken part of the fence, a plank of wood and rushed him with it, luckily dodging the bullet he shot at you and hitting him over the head, effectively knocking him out. "Shit" you muttered, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You dropped the plank and removed the gun from the pig's hand, holding it in yours as you continued to where Spider-punk was. Maybe you could help? After all, most of the others were either injured or busy...

You approached him, but he had already finished the job, your eyes settling on his figure using the web to tie the still breathing cops together and sticking them onto the wall. He'd annihilated their backup, but there was no certainty that there weren't more on the way. It was time to leave.

A web shot at you, the gun knocked out of your hand. You defensively raised your hands in the air, eyes widening as you watched him turn to look at you. "Not a cop" you said quickly, taking a step back. "Yea, I can tell" he replied, walking towards you. It was a fairly frightening sight, seeing a 6'3 masked man covered in blood and grime walking toward you, but something about him felt surprisingly friendly. "You a'right?"

"As good as I'll ever be" You lowered your hands slowly, still keeping your eyes on him. He put his hands on his hips, looking you up and down. "Saw you hit that cop over the head back there. Good job."

"Thanks..." his ripped shirt caught your eye. "oh" you left the soft realization escape your lips as you saw his wound. He'd been shot, pretty badly from the looks of it. "Oh this?" he asked, gesturing to his side, blood dirtying his shirt. "Don't worry about it, lovey"

"Y'should probably head home. Don't know when more of those pigs 're gonna show up" he said, his tone darkening slightly as he reached out his hand toward you. Suddenly he faltered, pulling his hand back. "Right, sorry. Can't take you home when there's other people needing my help." he sounded a bit sheepish as he kept his eyes on you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "S'alright" You replied, feeling a bit awkward. "I live close by."

"Yeah? Be careful out there, lass. Take care of y'self" he said with a playful salute before walking right past you. "Yeah. I'll see you around, Spider-punk" you said, looking back at him, feeling a bit confused at the interaction. "Oi, don't call me that. s'Spider-MAN not spider-punk." he said cockily, turning back to look at you.

"Right."

[shiggybrainr0t]

shouto wakes up trapped underneath a collapsed building, only to find himself also trapped in your embrace.

warnings: both Shouto and reader are hurt pretty badly </3, blood, immediate threat of death lol?, description of a broken leg, mention of vomiting but it doesn’t happen and isn’t explicitly stated, this is cheesy and unedited

border by @cafekitsune :)

dedicated to andie if they happen to see it because I thought of them while writing my very first Shouto fic 💘

Whenever Shouto awakes, it’s to a pounding headache, intense pain throbbing along the right side of his body, flickering lights, and something soft holding him tightly.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, wincing as the flickering light blinds him for a second. There’s a steady drip drip drip of water falling onto concrete though it’s too dark to make out much of his surroundings as the light flickers off again. The last thing he remembers is coming to an office building, where a villain with an unknown quirk was holding people hostage. A teary sounding gasp makes him look upwards weakly, only now noticing he is laying down.

He sees your face for the first time then. Eyes puffy and red from crying, with a trail of blood dripping from your hairline and down your nose, past your lips to where it becomes smeared as you wipe it away hurriedly.

“You’re awake!”

Your voice is soft, and slightly trembling as you gaze at him with wide, wavering eyes. They’re very pretty, he thinks dazedly. Framed by wet lashes, he also thinks he could look into them forever. Shouto moves to shift only to have his vision flash as pain erupts like molten lava traveling down his side.

“D-don’t try to move! A beam fell on you before you passed out. You were barely able to get out from under it.”

Feeling woozy, Shouto has to close his eyes for a moment to keep the pain from escaping through his mouth. There’s a sickening crack, and he realizes he’s cradled in your arms whenever you whimper and pull him closer, so that his head is resting against your chest and you’re basically hovering over him. He hears rubble begin to hit to ground, and sees you flinch as some small bits of gravel bounce off your head and fall beside him. Your eyes are clenched shut, and a fresh line of blood runs down your face and drips onto his own. No rubble ever hits him.

He’s confused. Why is a civilian, a hurt one at that, putting their life at risk for a pro hero? He’s supposed to be protecting you, yet here you are shielding him with your soft body. He must make a noise, because suddenly you’re looking down at him again, eyes wide with concern, bravely holding back tears now that he is awake.

Softly, you move one of the hands you had cradling his head to wipe at the blood that has dripped onto his cheek. Apologizing quietly, you begin talking again, the almost whispers coming out of your mouth seemingly echoing through the space.

“Your walkie talkie still worked thankfully, for a little while. Deku is here, and so is Red Riot and Uravity. They should have us out of here in no time, so don’t worry ok! Dynamight is also here, but that’s more worrying than anything honestly.”

Shouto can’t help but laugh at your candor, wincing as it makes the pain throbbing through his body flash intensely. You pull him even closer in your lap, now petting his bangs soothingly. Your fingers are soft on his sweaty skin, and he almost purrs whenever you begin to trace the lines of his face in a mesmerizing manner. He doesn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this when he was hurt. Usually it’s himself alone in his untouched apartment, picking up the pieces and taping them back together. He can never quite get them to fit right.

“Are you hurt badly?” His gravely voice seems to surprise you, and quickly you shake your head. He sees you regret it instantly, as you wince harshly afterwards.

“Just my head, and my leg. But not nearly as bad as you are.”

Another crack shoots through the space, and you look up worryingly at the unsteady beams ominously hanging about you. Shouto can see them looming when the light flickers on again. He can also see you. You look a little rough, he’s not going to lie. But at this moment, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful. His own personal angel, sent to comfort him and protect him when he’s been hurt so badly he can’t move.

You make quiet conversation after that, trying to ignore the drips and the cracks. He learns that you’re an ordinary boring office worker, your words not his, but you like your job and your coworkers so it’s not that bad. You learn that Deku has been his best friend since their first year at U.A., and that friendship is still just as strong. He learns that you don’t particularly care for cold soba whenever he brings it up, which makes him look at you in mock horror. It’s funny, seeing the normally stoic hero make such an exaggerated face that you can’t help but giggle.

The conversation dies down after a sickening pop! is heard and suddenly sunlight blinds you both. Looking up, you see shocking red hair and sharp teeth grinning at you and feel relief course through your body. Shouto feels your body relax against his, though you don’t let go. Red Riot reaches for you, but you shake your head again.

“Take Shouto, take Shouto.”

As he is lifted from your arms and into his friends, he sees you smile at him tearfully and give him a little wave. He can see you fully now, and can also see how your leg is bent at such an unnatural angle it had to be agonizing for you, but he never once heard you complain. The last thing he sees before you’re out of sight is Bakugo lifting you into his arms, with a surprising gentleness, saying something that has you nodding before you rest your head on his bare shoulder, relieved tears flooding from your eyes.

A couple days later, as Shouto is scrolling aimlessly through his phone in his hospital bed, he sees a headline that makes him stop.

PRO HERO SHOUTO KEEPS CIVILIAN SAFE WHILE TRAPPED UNDER COLLAPSED BUILDING!

Thinking of your eyes, which so bravely stared into his own, he can’t help but disagree with the article. It was you who kept him safe.

[serxinns]

Really liked the last ask! Liked it so much I wanted a second serving. So please, can I have the water nymph anti-hero deal with a romantic Yandere class-1A? Same song and dance will do, just with a pinch of Yandere EraserMic fam. Please and thank you 💙

You ask I deliver!!!

Part 1 is here!

Aizawa Knows something weird was up with his class there's no doubt about it always following around you, having picky arguments about who knows you better, and trying to ask you about your life, it was to the point he had to glare at them to make you back off a bit from you but even after that they'll still surround you and try and win for your affection

Hizaahi, on the other hand, was a bit Jealous and angry that his child guest was being coddled by His Husband's Students he saw the way Izuku would ask you about your information to draw it down in his little notebook,

How Ochako would stare at you like you were more important than the lesson, Bakugo complained because you didn't eat lunch with him, and the other extras he even saw Jirou glaring from a distance when you were talking with Momo and saw Momo smirking from that

You on the other didn't give a shit but at times their antics by doing little petty things to try and get your attention even when you were busy like when Mina interrupted your conversation with Shinso cause she wanted to invite you to a night out and when you asked if shins could join she made a weird face at him and immediately said girls are only allowed while she walked away Hitoshi grumbled something under his breath,

Sato pulling you away from your video game making you try out his sweets to make sure to give him a good ratingDenki and Sero trying to flirt and tease you while you stare at them unamused, Aoyama forcing you to eat some sort of cheese even tho you didn't like cheese that much, and you could've sworn seeing dark shadow peaking through the door?

They would always throw at each other whenever you were on the topic bragging about who knew you better, who they spent more time with, and who was your "best friend" to the point it was a blood bath and war

One day Mr. Aizawa had a very special announcement "Class we are going to go on a field trip today" Everybody in your class cheered Cleary was excited to go on this trip while you weren't paying attention as you were sneaking and playing on your phone "but you gotta pick a partner with you" as soon as you heard the word partner the world became slow and the realization hit as you saw your classmates eyes on you as if they were about to pounce on you

When you were about to say a word every single one of your classmates started banging on your desk begging you and demanding you be their partner

"y/n can I be your partner!?"

"No y/n wants to be my partner! *kero*"

"No y/ns too manly she can be mines"

"Fuck off shark week shes my parther"

"No Mines cmon y/n please!"

"No ochako its my turn"

"Y/n you can be my parther cutie 😏"

"FUCK OFF MINETA"

Everyone started arguing and causing a riot even Iida and Momo couldn't stop it cause they were also arguing with each other

That's when Aizawa banged a Ruler hard on the desk grabbing everyone's attention "Since you brats can't handle finding who will be your partner I will be choosing and y/n will be partnering with Hitoshi" everyone tried to protest saying it wasn't fair but Aizawa threatened them with detention so they kept their mouth shuts still seething with rage at one another secretly blaming each other

as you thank the God's that Mr shouta saved your ass

[darling-sometimes-i-wonder]

Rescue Mission- Finnick Odair

I loved your finnick fic! You are so good at writing!

Could you write a fic where the reader was taken to the Capitol (like Peeta and Johanna). They get saved and get to see Finnick in 13? Just a cute reunion (or a very angsty one which ever you rather lol)

A/N: again, thank you so much! i don't know how i feel abt how this one turned out, but here it is! i hope you love it<3 part 2 possibly if someone requests it. requests open!

WARNINGS: mentions of torture/blood/slight gore

word count: 2k

Time didn't matter anymore. Seconds turned into minutes turned into hours turned into days. Months, maybe even. It was all the same. 

You heard Johanna's scream echo through the hallway outside your door causing you to flinch. Bile rose in your throat as you anticipated what was to come; you, you knew, were next.

Just like everything else they did in the Capitol the torture was also excessive and elaborate, stretching far beyond anything the average imagination could conceive. 

You didn't know how long you'd been there; throughout your stay so far you were kept locked and chained in a small room with no windows indicating night or day, sandwiched between Johanna's and Peeta's rooms. The only reason you knew they were alive is because you heard them... daily. They were about as lucky as you were when it came to mercy- there was none. 

You felt completely and utterly defeated; you'd been told more than once that the three of you were the only survivors of the Quarter Quell. That meant everybody else had died- that meant Finnick had... passed. You couldn't bring yourself to put Finnick and dead together in a sentence. They were all killed either in the arena by the explosion or as an execution to be made example of. All considered to be part of a "rebel plan" to dethrone Snow and the Capitol according to what Snow and the peacekeepers have told you, which wasn't much. You had told them multiple times that you didn't know anything but they refused to listen, subjecting you to whatever violence they pleased in order to get information out of you. Information that you genuinely didn't have. No crying, begging, or pleading was enough to convince them that you were innocent. 

And truthfully you were; you had heard of Districts rioting and camaraderie between the victors but nothing as far as actually blowing up the arena.   

Whatever building you were kept on only housed the three of you there: Peeta to your left, You in the middle, then Johanna to your right. You didn't know what they were doing to the other two but you knew that for yourself it was more than just rough; it was excruciating both mentally and physically. It didn't sound any better coming from their end. 

They didn't hold back during beatings, going as far as to use physical objects to deliver the blows to your constantly fatigued, battered body. 

The room you were locked in was small and white- white walls, white bed, white papery nightgown you were forced to wear. It all reminded you eerily of Snow's garden of roses. 

Your bed was a thin mattress on a wiry metal frame, no blanket and no pillow. Attached to the bottom of the wall were the two bolts holding your chains in place, where they stretched across the floor until they cuffed tightly around both of your ankles.

The previously pristine walls were tainted by your blood. 

The door was flung open, ricocheting off the wall violently as Snow himself walked in. 

"Y/N," he smiled. "Let's see if we have something to talk about today, shall we?"

*

By the time he left you were laying on the floor, feeling woozy from the amount of blood in your mouth. You sat up, hearing a noise in the distance. It sounded further than Johanna's room, where they usually came in from. 

You heard bangs now directly outside of your room, making your heart race wildly. What was coming next? 

Suddenly your door flew open; someone, presumably a male judging by the height, dressed in heavy armor kicked your door down causing you jump about two miles in the air. Who was this? A new person to inflict pain on you? Were they peacekeepers, just dressed differently? 

They started to walk towards you and you shot backwards, scrambling as far as your chains would let you go. 

"Go away!" You shrieked, your throat raw from all of the screaming you'd done through your time at the Capitol. 

"Y/N! It's me," a muffled voice came out through the heavy duty mask. You stopped struggling against your restraints, looking at them in distrust. You couldn't see through the mask as it covered their entire face, but you could see their eyes- and you'd recognize those stony grey irises anywhere.

"Gale?" You whispered. 

A thick smoke began pouring from holes in the wall, holes which you had always previously assumed to be guns or other violent forms of reinforcements. 

You looked at him, panicked, and desperately tried to claw yourself lose from the chains. Your skin was red and bloody from how hard you were fighting it, squirming wildly like a rabid animal. 

The smoke easily filled the room, taking over your lungs and making you dizzy. You stumbled backwards, the backs of your knees hitting the bed and making you fall onto it. Your eyes shut. 

*

The next time you woke up you were being transferred from somebody's arms onto a hospital bed, an oxygen mask getting strapped to your face. You gasped and sat straight up, looking around frantically as multiple nurses rushed to your side and ushered you to lay back down. 

Heart beating wildly you took in your surroundings as you were wheeled from a landed hovercraft, approaching what appeared to be an entrance to something underground. 

You sucked in a breath. Was this new location just another place of horrors? 

"Y/N, it's okay," a young girl said, holding her hand out to you. She was blonde and had doe eyes, radiating innocence and purity. "You're not at the capitol anymore." 

The sound of the people surrounding you, a collection of doctors, nurses, and soldiers speaking in low voices faded into the background. 

You hesitantly touched her hand, noticing how your hand shook. 

"Where am I?"

"District 13."

District 13. 

District 13? 

Now you knew you must be hallucinating. 

You looked over your shoulder and saw Peeta being carted off on a hospital bed too, unconscious, an array of nurses and doctors surrounding him as well. 

"Where's Johanna?" You croaked. Your voice was weak. 

"She's here too," she reassured you. "She's behind you." 

You tried to sit up and turn further, trying to confirm for yourself that Johanna was indeed behind you, but the girl gently pushed you back down. 

"Don't strain yourself," she advised softly. You looked at her soft grey eyes and recognized immediately that she was from District 12. You distantly identified her as Katniss's sister. 

You approached what looked like a big room but she assured you it was just an elevator. "It's going to take us down to the bunkers." 

You paused, feeling the floor under your hospital bed go down, down, down as Prim explained lightly where you were and how it came to be. 

You couldn't wrap your head around it all; arriving in District 13, being rescued by people you had been told were dead, Katniss being the Mockingjay. It was all too much. 

The last thing you remember is someone slipping a needle into the back of your hand, hooking you up to an IV, Prim's big eyes gazing at you in concern. You felt comforted in her care; like no one was going to hurt you. Your eyes felt heavy and before you could leave the elevator it all went black. 

*

Beeping. 

You woke up to beeping. 

You sat up roughly and your your head immediately started spinning- Prim rushed forward and held her arm out, allowing you to steady yourself. 

"Where- what happened?"

She guided you to lean back, pulling the top part of your hospital bed into a reclined position so you could sit up a little. 

"You were rescued from the Capitol," she started slowly, fixing you a cup of water. You took it, not realizing how parched your mouth and throat were. Suddenly you were hyper aware of how sore your body was; you looked down to see your arms and legs covered in bruises and lacerations, your fingernails caked with blood underneath. "You, Peeta, and Johanna. After the arena blew up they took the three of you as prisoners, thinking you knew something about the rebellion."

"I didn't know anything," You whispered, looking up. Prim looked at you with sad eyes. 

"I know. Finnick's been going crazy not knowing where you were."

You swear your heart almost stopped. 

"Finnick?" You croaked and sat up again. "He's alive?"

She nodded in confusion. "He's been waiting for you." 

Tears pricked at your eyes and you tried to take a deep breath, which turned into a broken sob. You pressed your hand to your mouth trying to contain yourself. 

"Katniss? Beetee?"

"Both alive," she nodded, her brows furrowing. "Why, what do you think happened?"

"They told me the rest of the tributes were dead," You cried softly, your sobs getting louder by the second as you got worked up. "They said they caught and killed them all because they were rebels- to make an example out of them." 

She looked at you in shock, clearly taken off guard. Before she could say anything you heard noise from outside of the room. 

"Y/N?" 

You heard him yelling, running, his foot steps echoing. Your heart rate picked up. 

"Finnick," You screamed, drawing the attention of a few other nurses in the room. 

"Y/N! Where is she?"

You watched the door anxiously as Prim got up silently and opened it, poking her head out and waving her arm. 

"I want to see him," You demanded shakily even though no one was objecting, trying to ignore the big lump in your throat. You were so close to him, but so far. You slid off the hospital bed and Prim rushed back to your side as you wobbled and nearly collapsed onto the floor. She slipped her arm around your waist and basically carried you back into the hospital bed. 

As soon as you had been sat down he burst through the double doors; there he was. Your heart fluttered and it felt like a weight was lifted off your chest. He was there. Alive. In the flesh. He was facing the other way, head turning as he scanned the room. 

"Finn?" You said and you hated how broken your voice sounded. He whipped around with a frantic look on his face, eyes softening once they settled on you. He let out a loud breath as he closed the space between you with three long strides, reaching out and yanking you into his chest. You couldn't help the tears that fell as you clung to him desperately, unable to get close enough. His hands were all over you; rubbing, comforting, reassuring you as he tried to memorize every part of your body as if it was the last time he'd see you. 

You sobbed into his neck, holding onto him tightly with both hands.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed into your hair. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there." 

You couldn't find your voice to comfort him, instead just shaking your head and pushing it further against his chest.

He tightened his arms around you, pressing his lips to your head before lifting your face and kissing your salty tears away. He cupped your face with both hands, his ocean blue eyes gazing into yours burning with sincerity. 

"I'm never letting you out if my sight again," he choked. "Never."

[strawwritesfic]

(Don't) Hold Your Breath Master List

Summary: You've made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn't even at the top of the list. Now you're about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian--and they're not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Reader & Ellie; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Notes: I've received a few asks regarding this fic. I'd deleted it a few years ago for various reasons, but I got into my old laptop recently and decided that, well, if people have cared enough to track me down and ask about it, maybe I should put it back online.

My feelings about this story are…complicated, which is why I'm hoping people read this before they jump in. The Last of Us is a dark story, and so this story has a lot of dark themes. They're not always executed very well. That might lessen the impact. Maybe it makes it worse. I don't know. But this is a very different sort of work for me. I feel, in retrospect, that I went a little overboard in some aspects. And I don't know how to really even begin putting in warning tags for some of the stuff that's just brushed off like nothing because, to the point of view character, it isn't worth dwelling on. If there's something you see that you feel needs a warning, tell me. I'll add it.

I think the most important thing for me to get out there is that the reader character is an amputee. I had people claiming to be amputees telling me I did a lovely job, but more crucially, I had someone claiming to be an amputee that told me that they didn't like that even 18 chapters in, I was having the reader character struggle with using only one arm in various ways and keep complaining about her situation. I respect that. My thought process during writing was that, in a world without physical therapy or prosthetic limbs, it would be much more difficult to adjust to suddenly having only one arm (and the nondominant arm, at that). And the character whining was because she's got a lot of self-pity that she has to work to get over. That being said, I really took that criticism to heart. I had every intention of drawing back on both aspects…I just never actually wrote another chapter. But, you know, if this gets enough attention for me to justify finishing the story, that's 100% on the to-do list.

I'm not changing anything. It's going up as-is. I'm going to do a quick proofread, of course, and catch a few more typos (I hope), but the excessive swearing and the weird coffee and the thing with Ellie using bang snaps inappropriately are staying in. I'm not doing a line-by-line rewrite like I have with my KHR stuff.

This is not intended to be canon to the television show. I've never seen it, and I don't plan to watch it. This is not intended to be canon to The Last of Us Part II. I've never played it or watched anyone else play it, and I never will. The only thing that this work might have in common with those is that Ellie is a lesbian, because I always intended to give her a girlfriend in this even way before the second game came out.

Anyway, I hope the handful of people that were (mysteriously, miraculously) searching for this story don't find themselves too disappointed now that they can read it again. Thanks for reaching out. It means a lot to me.

Posting Status: Incomplete

Story Status: Incomplete

Rule #1: Shut up. The enemy might hear you.

Rule #2: Try not to get yourself hurt.

Rule #3: Try not to get yourself killed. God, are you that stupid?

Rule #4: Quit stealing shit.

Rule #5: Don't touch anything.

Rule #6: Don't piss off the locals.

Rule #7: First impressions are important, so don't be yourself.

Rule #8: The villagers are always a little stupid. Try not to contract that.

Rule #9: If you fall off a roof, don't let go. Nothing will catch you.

Rule #10: Again, the enemy can hear you, so shut up.

[forgotteneilionora]

Bastards of Stafford | Eilionora & Aria

"Stand well away from the windows!" bellowed the guards, fleeing this way and that.

But Eilia did not move. Did not flinch. Her people were fighting out there. Dying. And this time she had not even swords to arm them with, nor shields to safeguard them. All she could do was watch over them. She would pay them this tribute, if it cost her her life: she would look, and she would not look away.

Riots had broken out in the lower walls of the great castled city, and Eilia could hear the screams from here. Knights on lofty steeds poured into the breach, catching pitchforks and rakes with their long, gleaming swords; their tall, crested shields fending off flung stones pried from the walls or claimed from the ground around them. Part of Eilia longed for her people to hurl down their makeshift weapons and flee, melting away into the countryside: Roderick would not be merciful. But something inside her exulted at the resistance, her heart banging against her chest, a drum of war to put their fight to cadence, her blood thrumming in her ears as her hand went to the window pane, clasping at the cool glazing beneath it.

She was out there with them, in spirit, her own long-fingered hands closing around the rough, dirt-choked edges of a hefty stone. With a shriek her defence, she hoisted it over her head. She flung it at the metal-clad knight who rode up towards her. She knitted her hands together into a unified fist. She pounded at his saddle. She yanked her butcher's knife from her apron. She tore at the straps of his saddle. A savage snarl tore from her throat. The knight upended, collapsing before her as she and each of her other selves closed in upon him him, torches and cudgels and kitchen knives clutched in all her hands. She would pay for it, she knew, but first: first she would make her fury felt.

Eilia started. A hand on her shoulder. She turned then, looked away, half flinging herself off from the window, ready to strike. But it was Aria and, gasping in a breath, she stayed her hand, letting it drop to her side. She was one helpless young woman trapped in a castle, surrounded by enemies, again.

"Aria," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--I'm tense, is all." Without thinking, she reached out and drew her sister into an embrace, standing still defiantly before the window. Let them try to drag her away. She would not leave her for all the world.

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter ten

close to home | chapter ten

plot: the reader prepares for the war against woodbury

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,785 Warnings: violence, blood, character death A/N: thanks for reading! chapter ten, yay! Also I am having surgery tomorrow and will most likely not post for a couple days while I'm in recovery lol wish me luck!

You slammed the lid on the box and grunted as you picked it up. It had been a few days since you and Daryl sat in the guard tower together, and each day brought a wave of worry and anxiety to you. First, Rick met with the governor, then Merle was killed, and now you and the group were packing up. Rick was expecting the governor to up at any point, and he wanted everyone out of there when he did. 

With the last of your supplies finally packed and waiting to be brought out, you took a deep breath and looked at Michonne and Rick talking. It looked important, so you grabbed the box again and carried it to where everyone else was. 

Maggie and Glenn were loading their weapons, already dressed in riot gear and ready for action. You would be stationed with Carol in the hallways, ready with explosives, while Rick and Michonne would set the alarms off in the generator room as a signal. All while Daryl took care of the weapons on the trucks, they undoubtedly would have. 

It was a risky play, but everyone voted on it. You all wanted to make a stand.

“How you feelin’ ‘bout this?”

You turned to look at Daryl and shrugged your shoulders. “We gotta do what we gotta do.” 

“You can wait out with Hershel. Beth and Carl will be there with Judith. No shame in it,” He said, but you shook your head. 

“I’m here to be a part of the group. I’m capable with a gun. Besides, Carol needs someone to watch her back down there. And I don’t think Rick would think too highly of me if I chicken out,” You said. 

He looked at you for a few seconds and nodded slowly, then left to talk to Rick. You walked over to where Carol was getting the bag ready with the explosives. “You ready for this?” You asked her. 

“I’m ready for it to be over,” 

***

The sound of the governor’s men screaming in fear from the explosives would’ve had you laughing if you weren’t too focused on making sure they didn’t push forward. The siren blared in the hall, and you could hear gunfire. You kept your body pressed against the wall to ensure no bullets would hit you. 

Carol was on the other side of the hallway, covering her face so she didn’t breathe in the smoke. You followed her lead and waited as the attackers ran from the hallways. Within a few seconds, you heard distant gunshots and sighed loudly. 

Rick and Michonne came running up the hallway, and you and Carol fell in line. The cell blocks smelt of gunpowder, and the door was left ajar, where you could hear Glenn and Maggie talking to Daryl. When the four of you caught up to them at the fences, you were all breathing heavily. 

“We did it,” Rick said, “We drove them out.”

Michonne was next to speak. “We should go after them.”

“We should finish it,” Daryl replied. 

A debate broke out for a few seconds before Rick decided that Michonne was right, and you were all going to follow the crew and finish the fight at Woodbury. 

***

Within ten minutes, you, Michonne, and Rick followed Daryl out of the prison courtyard in the pickup. Maggie and Glenn had opted to stay behind, but you chose to go. You wanted to be there for Rick and Daryl. Even Michonne, who you’d grown to respect in the little time you’ve known her. 

You weren’t on the road long before abandoned vehicles blocked your path. Daryl and Rick slowed down, and you all jumped out to see what was happening. You were silent as they talked, your stomach heavy as you looked at all the bodies. You felt like throwing up.

When someone banged on the window from inside the car, you all jumped and aimed your guns at the door. Daryl opened the door and pulled the woman out, who immediately started to speak.

“He… he did this. He opened fire on everybody. If I hadn’t…” She stuttered, looking around his disbelief. You felt bad for her. She looked like she was in shock but seemed alright otherwise. You didn’t see any blood that looked like hers. 

“What happened?” Rick asked. 

“He made us pull over and just started shooting at everyone….” She said, “He told us you were all murderers and terrorists. I don’t…”

“She’s in shock,” You said, lowering your gun and taking a step. “I don’t think you’ll get anything from her right now. She’s probably dehydrated and needs to sit.”

Rick looked at you for a long moment before nodding. “You try anything, hurt any of us, and I will kill you,” Rick warned. 

You led the woman back to the car and had her sit on the truck bed. You gave her some water and a few small pieces of jerky from your rations. She nodded but stayed silent, drinking and eating as quickly as possible. You glanced at your group, who were all looking around and grabbing all the weapons on the ground. You couldn’t believe how quickly you’d gotten pulled into this mess. 

“My name is Karen. I was in Woodbury for a little while but I never… I didn’t know he was capable of this.” Karen said after a minute of silence. “And now the people left at Woodbury are defenseless. What if he went back and killed them all? Most of them have been behind those gates since nearly the start. I don’t know how they could defend themselves. I don’t…”

You grabbed the water bottle she had set down and gave it to her. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” As she drank, you glanced over to Rick and met his eye. You nodded your head, and he started walking over. You met him a few feet away from Karen and spoke hushedly. “Her name is Karen. The governor slaughtered everyone. She’s lucky she survived. She said the people back at Woodbury are defenseless. Been there since almost the start….” You trailed off for a moment. “I don’t know how I feel about this. Those people might not have even known anything about us.”

You could tell from the look on Rick’s face that he was thinking the same thing. “Let’s take Karen and go see what we see. But we go in prepared.”

***

You were prepared when you went into Woodbury. You were prepared for another fight, and you were prepared to kill. You weren’t prepared for Tyreese and Sasha meeting you at the gate, with no sighting of the governor. You weren’t prepared for Karen to tell Rick about Andrea and find her bit in one of the holding cells. 

The group's reaction was devastating, and you tried to hold back tears while they said goodbye. You waited outside with the rest of them for that final gunshot, and all the tension in the room seemed to drop when it rang out.

“We need to decide now what we are doing,” Rick said, his voice full of emotion. He was dealing with something else, but you couldn’t tell what. “If Karen is right, if Tyreese and Sasha are right, these people, they… they should come back with us.”

Silence followed his words, and you glanced at Daryl. Your eyes met, and you held each other’s gaze for a moment before you turned away. 

“Bring them back?” Michonne asked. 

Rick nodded almost hesitantly. “This whole thing, this isn’t their fault. This was one man. And the people that tried to kill our people are dead. The people here, now, they don’t know how to protect themselves. We’ll be leaving them to die.”

“I don’ know, man,” Daryl said. 

“They’d contribute? Help clean out cell blocks, help hunt?” You asked the group. “Maybe they can learn from us. We all started somewhere. Daryl and I nearly killed each other when we first met. We have to… it can’t be like this. The world can’t be like this. I’m with you, Rick.” You said. 

As your words sunk in, Rick nodded and looked between Michonne and Daryl. Slowly they nodded too. “Let’s have Karen and Tyreese get them all together. They don’t have to come. But they’ll have the option. Give them an hour to pack up their shit.”

“We should raid the armory and kitchen,” You said, “If people decide to come, we’ll need the supplies. And the way I’m looking at it, we won.” 

***

Dawn was just beginning to break; the clouds had started to glow purple and pink, and the sun was almost ready to come up for the day. It had been a long night for Daryl and his group. He had spent the past two hours with you, cleaning out Woodbury’s infirmary, kitchen, and armory. The pickup truck was absolutely filled to the brim. The front seat was used for storage and would only fit one person. 

You and Daryl had discussed plans on sending a group out later on, to finish picking Woodbury clean. It was nearly a gold mine. He just needed to talk to Rick about the plan--but he knew Rick would agree. He couldn’t afford not to. 

By the time he closed the tailgate to the truck, nearly everyone from Woodbury was gathered up. Everyone but one family was coming. He had given them more than enough food, weapons, and gas to last them a while. He noticed how quiet you were during the transaction. 

He also noticed how tired you were. The last day was nonstop for all of you; he was just as exhausted. He wanted to go home and sleep, though he knew that wasn’t likely. 

Daryl was standing with you by the truck when Rick approached, handing you the keys to the truck. “I’ll drive the bus back with Michonne. I don’t think anyone will cause any problems but better safe than sorry. (Y/N), you got the truck, and Daryl will lead.”

“I wanna send some groups out after everything is settled,” Daryl said, “We packed as much as we could, but there’s still more. We should come back.”

“We will,” Rick nodded. “We’ll do it smart, but we will. (Y/N), can I talk to you real quick?”

Daryl watched as the two of you walked a few feet away and then turned back to the bus, where Michonne was waiting as well. Everything was settled, and it was time to bring everyone home. 

[mackdizzy]

[my gift for @thecooleraveragejamm , for @mcyt-valentines !]

Okay, so!

My giftee was interested in c!Technoblade and a playlist, so I made a little song cycle! The cycle is in 8 parts (acts) with 7 songs each, and the whole thing will take just under 3 hours to listen to, with each individual act being 20-25 minutes. I'm posting the graphics, song lists, and spotify playlists (there are 8 separate playlists) in order, but if spotify isn't your jam, isn't accessible, or if you'd rather all in one go, at the end of this post (along with some more info about the cycle) is a youtube playlist that contains all 56 songs all at once!

Act 1: World Conqueror • I'm Born to Run (American Authors) • Taking Over the World (Coyote Theory) • Aulon Raid (The Mountain Goats) • Renegades (X Ambassadors) • Ends of the Earth (Lord Huron) • Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Lorde) • Immortals (Fall out Boy)

Act 2: (We Have) The Blade • The Horror and the Wild (The Amazing Devil) • Revolution (The Score) • Riot (Hollywood Undead) • Legend (The Score) • The Phoenix (Fall Out Boy) • Raging Fire (Phillip Phillips) • Unstoppable (The Score)

Act 3: Interlude; Peer Pressure • Borderline (Tame Impala) • Angry Too (Lola Blanc) • Victorious (Panic! at the Disco) • Blood (End Credits) (My Chemical Romance) • Bang! (AJR) • Sinners (Barns Courtney) • Never Going Back (The Score)

Act 4: Die Like One • Pale White Horse (The Oh Hellos) • Point of No Return (Starset) • Let's Kill Tonight (Panic! at the Disco) • Rebels (Call Me Karizma) • Enemies (The Score) • Born Ready (Zayde Wolf) • This is it (Oh The Larceny)

Act 5: Retirement or; • Thousand Eyes (Of Monsters and Men) • People I Don't Like (UPSAHL) • Whatever it Takes (Imagine Dragons) • Under the Pressure (The Score) • Another Way Out (Hollywood Undead) • Monster (Willyecho) • Ghost (Confetti)

Act 6: Welcome Home Theseus (Minor Acts of Terrorism) • Play Dirty (Kevin McAllister [SEBELL]) • Emperor's New Clothes (Panic! at the Disco) • Wrecking Ball (Mother Mother) • Glory and Gore (Lorde) • Bang Bang (Hippo Campus) • Allies or Enemies (The Crane Wives) • Novocaine (Fall Out Boy)

Act 7: It Ends Today (I'm a Person) • Roots (Imagine Dragons) • Wolves (Sam Tinnesz, Silverberg) • My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light 'Em Up) (Fall out Boy) • Fire (Barns Courtney) • Wine Red (The Hush Sound) • Take Me To War (The Crane Wives) • Ready Set Let's Go (Sam Tinnesz)

Act 8: Sic Semper Tyrannis • Bit by Bit (Mother Mother) • Up The Wolves (The Mountain Goats) • Creature (Half • Alive ) • Kings (Tribe Society) • Run Like A Rebel (The Score) • The Ballad of the Broken Bones (The Low Anthem) • Hieroglyphs (The Oh Hellos) ━━━ ➼ ━━━━

I tried to pick music that aesthetically, musically, and lyrically matched c!Techno's vibes--the playlist follows his story from pre-DSMP to post-Doomsday (so not the whole thing, but a nice, peaceful ending point). The intention is for you to follow c!Techno's journey as you listen, and I think this playlist has a rather nice message about finding yourself and finding peace through rather hostile circumstances and worldviews. It gave me a lot of peace and joy to make, and I hope you enjoy, giftee and anyone else, and have fun listening! Youtube Link

[ejunkiet]

Tending to a feisty werewolf's injuries

A break down of how the rest of that night went, as we all know that 'celebrating' didn't stop at kisses and slow touches, okay.

Under the cut as this is an unapologetically nsfw ramble, minors dni.

SO. has anyone written about Milo and SH that first night, going all the way on the couch?

Just after they heal him? Milo and his talk of celebrating... Apparently I have many thoughts on that...

Incl. Milo being mostly horizontal the whole time but convincing SH to sit on his face. As a treat.

And carrying around a condom in his wallet, as safe post-near death experience sex PLEASE

But also that kissing session on the couch getting deeper, and the moment they decide it's gonna go all the way and sneak their hands down to his jeans, he just catches their hands with a soft 'whoa, you sure?'

And they just take a minute to catch their breath and look at him, and he's all sweaty and flushed, his hair a mess, very kissable lips all swollen, and there's still blood on his mouth and down his chest, but he's holding their hands gently and looking at them like they're everything-

And yeah. YEAH.

So he's not bleeding out, but he's still sore? So he's not really moving from the couch. And they can ride him like that just fine, and they've been making a mess of him before this, kissing down his neck, his chest, sharp biting kisses.

And they've been grinding on his lap for the last ten minutes, and they can feel the effect they've been having on him, know he wants it as much as they do.

And his hands slip down, tugging at the waist of their fucking work pants, as he asks, 'please, let me touch you'

They climb off his lap, strip down as he kicks his jeans off and down, but when they go back to straddle his lap, shoves himself down the couch and tugs them up to his chest, their thighs around his neck, his hands on their thighs, squeezing as he asks if he can taste them-

And yeah. He gets them off with his talented fucking mouth, as he needs to prove that even down and out, he can still make them feel as good as they're making him feel.

And that's really fucking good.

And then when he's grinning up at them, all smug as they catch their breath, they grab his wallet and snag the condom they knew would be there on a hunch, and ask if they can ride him.

JUST WRECKING THE FURNITURE OKAY

They probably fall asleep together on the couch after, all tangled and messy, and it's gonna be hell to clean up, but neither of them care

SH uses his shower in the morning, he makes them an incredible fucking breakfast

Milo asks if he can take them out to dinner later, as of course he would, that boy is sold.

And that's it. That's how they start.

With a BANG heheheheh >:3

Look, I have too many thoughts about these two. Also, if Tumblr messes up the order of these bullet points, I will RIOT

[justmeinatree]

03 - Astoria : J’adore La Mer

Summary : you find yourself trapped on a pirate ship, desperate to be saved. or is it the pirate that needs saving …

i’m on my own, you came alone, all dressed up in bad news

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : mentions of abuse / sexual assault

Word Count : 4.3k

you weren’t exactly sure what it was that woke you up. but it was still very dark around you, and you were momentarily in a state of pure confusion as you’d been woken so suddenly. you really just needed to put your head back down, and fall right back to sleep. 

that is, until you hear it again. an earth shattering explosion, blood curdling screams, smell of smoke. and before you have time to process it, a piercing swirl of wind, followed by another large bang, this one much too close for comfort. 

you look next to yourself, your husband wide awake as well, eyes gone wide, his brain working as quickly as it could in such a moment. “hide. quickly, get in the closet or something,” he orders quickly, grasping his rifle and exiting the bedroom, door left creaked open.

in pure fear, hearing the shouts and bangs and general rioting ruckus outside, you do as told, rushing off to the closet, your heart beating so fast you had trouble sucking in anything close to a proper breath.

your eyes squeeze shut, as you jolt, hearing the loud bang of the front door to your house being blown clean off its hinges, followed by uncoordinated, unclear screaming and chattering now incredibly clear without the wood blocking the shouting cries from the outside.

it’s the rumble of footsteps trudging through your house that makes you fear your safety, and the one of your husbands. and yet here you are, poking your head through the closet door, curiosity getting the best of you, because what in the hell was happening in your little town ?

as you step out of the half assed protection of the flimsy closet doors, about to peer around the bedroom door, it swings open, crashing hard against the wall behind it. 

again, your eyes squeeze shut on instinct, pure fear shooting through your veins, trembles taking over your body, as you step backwards until your body smashes against the far wall, a large hand quickly wrapping itself around your neck to hold you in place. 

your breath hitches, lungs constricted, frozen like a small wounded animal having been caught, succumbing to fate. but then, nothing happens. the hand leaves your neck. and your eyes flutter open momentarily. 

deep blue eyes, open wide in pure shock, looking back at you. 

“niall,” you breathe, a wash of instant relief flooding through your bloodstream, your pounding heart slowing just a tad.

you hadn’t seen him in almost 2 years. since that fateful day when he rowed off into the horizon, never to be seen again. until now. 

as quickly as your eyes can scan him, you take in his appearance. it was dark in the room, but he looked even better than you remember. for the first time, he doesn’t seem to have a bandana under his hat, wisps of sun blonde hair poking out from every which way. his eyes seemed bluer, clearer, crisper. it made your skin prickle, you were absolutely itching for him. 

you’d done your best, all this time, to push all of the thoughts of him away. the way he’d treated you. the way he’d looked at you. the way he’d made your chest burst. the way he’d been so god damn caring for someone he didn’t even know. something the people around you, that have known you for years, couldn’t even seem to do.

“gotta hide better than that, darling,” he murmurs through a breath. and just as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone. heavy boots stomping down the stairs, shouts of “let’s go ! nothing upstairs,” echoing through the front hall, rumble of fleeing men indicating that they’d moved on.

you stood absolutely shell shocked, unable to move, your mind reeling. it was niall. niall’s here. in your town. as much of a whirlwind tornado that was just left behind, you felt a sense of calm. there was always a deep seeded comfort that followed him. like if nothing could happen to you when he was there. possibly because he’s literally murdered to keep you safe, but that was just a minor detail at this point.

if you were honest with yourself, you’d been craving that level of safety and comfort for a while now. longer than you’d like to admit. 

and just as quickly as the thought could fly through your mind, you were contemplating going after him.

no. no, no, you could not do that. but really, why couldn’t you ?

was it the fear of the unknown ? sure. was it the fact that you were leaving everything and everyone behind ? of course. was it that you’d be following a pirate, at hopes of a better life ? absolutely. had you actually gone insane ? probably. but here you were, rummaging through the depths of the closet, grasping onto a pillow case. one you’d kept tucked away, far away, for a long while now.

as you pull out the fateful clothes, the pirate clothes and boots, the very ones that niall had stolen for you, you’re brought back to that time on the ship. tucked away in the bottom level, hidden in sludge and mold. and just the prospect of niall’s soothing presence, was enough encouragement to make it all worth it again. to escape your current hell for one of muck with a tinge of comfort.

without much more thought on it, you slip the outfit on, taking a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. it was dark in your bedroom, but you could still see the outlines, darkened by shadows. is it really possible that you feel a sense of clarity ? almost like a solid weight being lifted off your shoulders ? you truly must have gone insane. running off to your potential doom on board a pirate ship was somehow making you happy. giddy even. a true testament to how complete shite the last couple years had been.

niall was following the herd, pirate mentality and all that, but his mind was so far gone, he’s pretty sure he completely missed the fact that there was tons of jewelry in that house. or was it the last one ? maybe there wasn’t any at all. fuck, what had you done to him ?

not a day had gone by where the thought of you escaped him. how good your hair smelled, how soft your skin was, how sweet your voice sounded, how delicate and dainty your hands were, how smooth your lips were, how warm your breath was. it’s the only thing that’s kept him going for the last couple years. 

every single morning, he’d woken up thinking about you, if you were alright, if you were safe, if you were happy. and well now, he guesses he has that answer. he saw the house you were living in, and he saw the man that was protecting his home with his rifle. saw the quaint little community you were a part of, every house looking more expensive than the last. 

and so now, as he trudges back onto the boat, lads dragging along with large pouches of food, jewelry, and any sort of valuable they could find, he assumes that his early morning thoughts of you will be different. he knows that you’re safe, knows you’re alright, knows you have money and means to get by happily. 

with every pilfered thing now stored accordingly, the pirates having their fix of alcohol and starting to turn in for the night, niall closes his eyes, wondering what thoughts will fill his brain tomorrow morning. will they still be of you, just with a different twist ? or have you seemingly moved right out of his brain now that he’s gotten some form of “closure” ?

it’s something he’ll never end up knowing, as at some point, in the middle of the darkness of late night, he hears your voice. a soft breath calling his name. once, twice, he must be having the weirdest dream, this is much too vivid. maybe you hadn’t checked out of his mind at all. 

but then, he feels it. like really fuckin feels it. the smooth glide of soft fingertips running down the back of his hand and following the length of his finger. and then it hits his nostrils, the sweetest smell he’s been privy to since the last time you were on a boat with him.

so when he hears the whispering call of his name again, he blinks one eye open, peering up into yours, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth.

he blinks a few times again, confusion etched over his features, breath stuck in the depths of his chest, because fuck, could you really be right there ? how much had he drank ?

“s’not much of a hiding spot, darling,” he croaks out half asleep, still blinking his eyes heavily, willing the sleepiness and the alcohol induced fuzz away.

but his response has pulled a chuckle out of you, a soft little giggle, a tune he’ll definitely be tucking away for a rainy day. 

the flooding relief that you felt through your entire body was as instant as the giggle that left your lips. you hadn’t so much as cracked a true genuine smile in years, much less anything close to a laugh, and here niall was, doing so effortlessly without so much as even being fully awake.

“i missed you,” you breathe quietly, your eyes going wide as you realize you said that out loud. it was true, fuck it was so true, but you weren’t sure you should be telling him that quite yet. honestly, he made you nervous, always had. and now that you’d literally ran away, to him, you were even more tense.

niall looks you over, as he sits up properly, calloused fingertips darting out to glide along your cheek, the softest cheek, taking in your appearance. 

he recognizes that clothes, fuck how could he forget ? it’s exactly what you were wearing when he rowed off, leaving you behind. it’s exactly what he’d stolen for you. “why’d you still have that clothes ? fuck, what are you even doing here ?” niall asks quietly, very aware of the fact that you were surrounded by sleeping pirates.

but it’s when he sees your bottom lip get sucked into your mouth, a slight sadness in your eyes before they move downcast, he realizes those probably shouldn’t have been some of the first words out of his mouth. he was honestly just shell shocked. and a bit on edge at the prospect of having to protect you from this bunch.  they were nothing like the other pirates.

niall sighs, eyes crunching up for a moment, because this was really happening. his hand reaches out for yours, just as soft as he remembers, wrapping his digits around yours.

it quickly got your attention, eyes flicking up to find his locked on your joined hands, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

a moment later, his face softens, hand pulling yours up to his mouth, sea chapped lips leaving a warm trail over your knuckles. his gaze flicks up to yours, face in such close proximity, you could feel his soft breaths. 

niall was taking you in, eyes peering over your features, drinking you in, filing every bit of you to his memory. it was dark, and he couldn’t see you as well as he’d like, but he was in very close proximity, so he was revelling in it. how beautiful you are, how strong the sweet smell of vanilla was wafting from your hair. 

he’s quickly pulled from the moment, a bit of rustling from the hammock next to his, thankfully just a half asleep roll, eyes never even opened, but it’s enough to snap his brain back to reality. he lifts his head from yours, eyes scanning the room, before nodding towards the left. 

he gets up, your hand in his, pulling you quietly towards the steps, leading you down a few decks. niall leads you to a darker corner, somewhere he’s sure no one will be able to hear you both speaking, “i missed you too,” he nods, starting over from earlier. “thought about you every single day.”

“you have ?” you ask softly, hope etched into your voice. truthfully, you were scared out of your wits, the truth of the situation at hand had started sinking in, and well, maybe you were far gone past insane. 

“i have. really have. wondered if you were safe, if you were okay, if you were happy. wondered where you ended up, who you ended up with,” he adds quieter. “seems you were doing great, living in that little town. christ, i can’t believe i ran into you. do you have any fuckin idea how lucky you were darling ? please tell me what ever possessed you to come here.”

for a moment, you bite your lip again, pondering what he’d just told you. because you weren’t really all that safe, you weren’t okay, and you weren’t happy. so, really you weren’t doing great, you were excited to be on a pirate ship. which honestly speaks volumes. 

“you’re wrong,” you murmur, eyes downcast, suddenly feeling very nervous around him. you hadn’t even noticed that you’d started pacing, a little trail back and forth in front of niall, back and forth, and back and forth. “i wanted to come here. wanted to come find you. you were the only good thing in my life,” you whisper.

niall can feel his eyes going wide before his brain even really catches up with what you said. there’s no way he’s heard you right. there’s absolutely no way, on this earth, in all the seas, that he could be anything good in anyone’s life. 

but before he has time to question much of it, you continue on, “do you remember some of the things we talked about last time ?” you ask, trying to peer into his eyes, the darkness of the lower decks making it a bit difficult. but you do catch his nod, a reassuring sigh leaving your lips. you finally felt safe enough to pour out everything you’d been tucking away for years. 

and so, on you went, “i had to go back to him. i had nowhere else to go. i couldn’t stay on the street, i couldn’t sleep in the park, i couldn’t come to you. there was nowhere safe. i had to go back. not that it was completely safe, but it was better than the open street, you know ?”

niall can hear the slowly invading sadness as you speak, the slowly invading fear, regret, uncertainty, anger, annoyance. he didn’t want to interrupt, wanted you to be able to tell him. he wanted to know, christ, he’s spent the last two years wondering. there’s nothing more that he’s wanted, than just knowing what had happened to you. 

“he doesn’t treat me good, niall. my life is awful,” you cry out, your voice getting louder as you go, emotions pouring out hard seeing as you could finally let them out. “it looks great, doesn’t it ? even had you fooled. but behind those gold plated door knockers, i’m just someone’s bitch. nothing’s ever good enough, nothing’s ever clean enough, nothing’s ever done right, nothing’s ever anything. i’ve spent a lifetime listening to someone order me to do things over and over and over again, without any say in the matter, just to then tell me that none of it is right, that i need to start over.”

“darlin, darlin, shh,” niall speaks up, stepping right up to you, hands landing on your upper arms to stop the pacing. “you’re speaking really loud, don’t want to wake the others, yeah ?” he hums smoothly, calmly, soothingly. his hands rub up and down your bicep gently, making you take a moment to calm yourself. 

you hadn’t noticed how worked up you’d gotten, how loud you’d gotten, until you heard the softness of niall’s voice in comparison. your breaths were deep, eyes closed, just taking him in. he was every little thing you’d been dreaming about since the day you met him. 

“sorry,” you murmur, now so so close to him. the sea air, beer, and sweat smell that seemed to just be niall was invading your senses. you should probably be disgusted, but in all reality, there was nothing better. nothing more to remind you that you were in the presence of niall. 

“s’okay,” he mumbles just as quietly, offering a small smile, one you can only see due to the proximity. “m’glad that you can talk to me, just need to do so quieter, alright ?”

it was your turn to nod, taking another deep breath to centre yourself before continuing on, “the house always needed to be cleaned, there wasn’t any dust or fingerprints, wasn’t any hair or webs. but i was always cleaning, and it was never clean enough. we had more food than we could ever eat, but i was always making more. and he never liked it, never liked anything. i made everything exactly as he would tell me to, followed the recipe to a T, but it was never right. i can’t even tell you how many times i’ve had to throw out amazing food, just to make it over again. i was always doing laundry. our clothes was brighter than anyone else’s and it still wasn’t enough. i was never enough.”

“did he hit you ?” niall asks quietly, unsure he wants to know the answer, but asking none the less. “did he ever hurt you ? put his hands on you ?”

“not like that,” you sigh, starting to pace again. you didn’t want to talk about this. you didn’t want to relive any of this. you were leaving it, running away from it, forgetting it. but then, you guess that niall does deserve an explanation. you had to talk about this. 

“what does that mean ?” niall asks, fear, sympathy, empathy, anger all laced in the simple sentence.

you shrug, sighing, “means that he didn’t hit me, didn’t do anything you’re thinking. i just had to do the tasks over and over and over again, while he was sat in his cigar room with the boys, enjoying whiskey and smokes. i was so exhausted. always exhausted. physically and mentally drained, not a moment to relax. not until bed time anyway. but even then, my tasks for the day weren’t done. i’m his wife mind you, it’s my duty, it’s what he deserves. i was just so tired, i couldn’t even do that right.”

niall’s eyebrows furrow, head following your pacing, trying to catch a proper glimpse at you in this mother fucking darkness, because were you trying to tell him what he thinks you’re trying to tell him ? “darlin,” he sighs, shaking his head, “did he- ?”

“no,” you’re quick to jump in, shaking your head, stopping dead in your tracks to face him. or well, face the shadow that is him, adding quieter, “i mean, i never really wanted it. not with him. but i’m his wife and it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

“that’s bullshit and you fuckin know it,” niall snaps softly, sighing hard for a moment, eyes shut tight as he processes the information you just gave him. but it’s when he opens his eyes, ready to lose his absolute mind, that he notices how small you look. how scared. how lonely. how vulnerable. and so he takes a deep breath, deciding that this may not be the best time to jump down this rabbit hole. deciding that maybe you weren’t quite ready for this, given the circumstances of your late night escapade to a pirate ship, clearly looking for a fresh start, in the worst place mind you, but niall’s not one to judge much. 

so he tucks those thoughts away for a time when you’re ready, or for a time when the weight of it all sneaks up on you, whichever case, he’ll be ready. ready to be whatever you need at the time.

and either way, for now, there was one much bigger question at hand, “darlin,” he speaks up softly, getting your attention. “what exactly is your plan here ?”

niall can see the bit of anxiety shoot through you at his question, something he doesn’t like doing. making you nervous that is. or more nervous, that is. he can see it in you. can tell that he makes you a bit nervous, on edge. he typically goes out of his way to try and keep you calm.

he understands, doesn’t blame you for a second. supposes he’d be pretty anxious had the roles been reversed. so overall, he tries to keep the atmosphere smooth, quiet, comfortable. but he hadn’t expected this question to throw you.

you shrug at his question, eyes casting down, sighing before you speak, “it’s probably stupid. i should have thought about this more,” you groan to yourself, before blurting everything out. “i was hoping we could start a new life together.”

and that’s it. you stop there. breath caught in your throat, because you said it. whatever answer niall gives you, it’s out there now. that you actually, wholeheartedly, want a pirate. want to call him your own. want to be with him. want to love him.

niall looks you over, eyebrows furrowed, because really, you can’t be serious. there’s no possible way that that’s what you truly want. him ? there’s no fuckin way.

“please,” you murmur, slightly deflating. you didn’t think he’d need all that much convincing. leaving piracy. wouldn’t that be a nice turn of events ?

“why on earth do you want me ?” niall asks softly, not wanting to startle the soft, quiet moment, breath leaving his lips, as he contemplates. could you really want this ? maybe everything that had happened throughout the night, plus the severe lack of sleep, was playing with your mind. that had to be it.

“don’t you get it ?” you groan, exasperated, “you’re the only person that’s ever stood up for me. the only person that’s ever listened to me. the only person that’s ever helped me. the only person that’s ever cared about me,” you explain, voice getting louder, until it stops. both of you so close. so fucking close. breathing each other’s air. thick air. eyes wandering each other’s faces, the proximity giving you the advantage, as you whisper, “the only person that’s ever saved me.”

niall’s lips instantly press to yours, the feeling you’re describing, pulling at him from the depths of his core. the feeling he so longed for. he never in a million years imagined being able to do that for someone. it made his toes tingle, his fingertips prickle, his chest burst. he couldn’t explain it, but he wanted to be that for you. wanted to give you what you so deserved. every day. every single day.

you were trembling, hands landing to cup niall’s jaw and neck, one of them gliding back to his hair, slipping under his hat, making it fall. 

his kiss was so delicate, and yet so deeply passionate, making your toes curl in your boots, fingertips gripping his hair. so soft. the ocean water clearly having its effects over time. one you’re letting yourself revel in.

“let me save you now,” you murmur against his lips, niall’s hold on your hips tightening, pulling you closer to him, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, holding you to him, forehead resting against yours, eyes peering into your own.

“gonna row off into the night with me ?” niall asks quietly, “again ?” he adds cheekily, watching you nod with a smirk, before his features turn serious, his gaze locked on yours. “i’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“you’ve saved me more times than i can count,” you hum, “think i’m the one that can’t thank you enough.”

he’s quick to shake his head, nose fluttering against your own, index finger coming to rest against your lips, keeping you from going on, “i’ll never hesitate to save you, darlin.”

without much thought, your lips press to his again, softly, quickly, much too quickly for your liking, niall groaning softly, “sorry, trust me, there’s nothing i’d rather do,” he sighs, chuckling. never thought he’d be turning away kisses, especially from such a beautiful lady, even more especially given the lack of female encounters for the last decade, but, “s’almost morning. gotta get off this ship, m’lady.”

a wide smile spreads over your lips, little giggle leaving your lips. you felt like a teenager with a crush, all over again. a feeling that made you more excited than anything you’d felt in a very long time.

with no time to dwell on it, you follow niall up to the top deck, thankful that the others were asleep, jumping in to help him lower the lifeboat. something you remembered from the last time.

it all happened so fast, the next thing you were registering, you were watching niall row, the darkness of night slowly being invaded by wisps of dark blue.

“gotta warn ya darlin,” niall hums, “this island isn’t as nice as the last one. kind of a shite spot to be honest. we’ll just rest up and be on our way.”

you shrug, smiling at him, “m’with you, it really doesn’t matter,” you hum, cheeks feeling warm at the incredibly cheesy admission. 

but niall smiles wide, a little breathy chuckle leaving his lips, because maybe this was the path he was meant to follow in order to find a treasured future. 

and maybe, just maybe, you were the key to it all. 

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @cc-horan28 @acesofspadess @lostinwildflowers

[hobiebrownismygod]

Streetkid!Hobie x Fem!Reader - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

I post these earlier on wattpad, the link is in my pinned post!! <3

~4.4k words

Masterlist

________________________

Hobie's POV

________________________

"I'm telling you, Ri, I saw her!"

"Stop moving!"

"Y'have to believe me!" Hobie exclaimed, squirming as Riri dabbed the scratches on his neck with rubbing alcohol before gently placing bandaids on his cuts. "Yeah, yeah, I believe you" she said with an eye roll, more focused on his wounds than he was himself. 

"Seriously, it was like I was inna dream..." he started to say, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes with a dreamy sigh. "Couldn't believe m'eyes."

Riri hesitated for a moment as she pulled away from him, satisfied with her handiwork patching him up. "Are you su-"

"Are you sure it was her?" Kamala cut in, walking towards the both of them, hands on her hips with her eyebrow raised. "I mean, you haven't seen her in a decade, how can you be sure?"

"I'm telling you Kamala, it was her." Hobie said, standing up with a groan and wiping the dust off his jeans. He was covered in blood and scratches.

"uh-huh" she wasn't convinced. 

Yesterday's riot had done a number on the group. Although they'd been able to keep the protestors safe and had successfully destroyed the mansion, they'd gotten pretty banged up. Karl was in the other room taking a nap while Kamala, Riri and Hobie stitched each other's cuts and bandaged each other up. It was normal for them to be beat up after such a heavy conflict, but it wasn't doing much to boost the team's morale. Meanwhile, Hobie was over the moon at the fact that he'd caught a glimpse of that girl, even if their conversation had been a bit short-lived.

"She looked nearly the same." Hobie started again, eliciting eye rolls from both Kamala and Riri who simultaneously sighed and ignored him. "I could never forget those eyes."

"You do realize she's the daughter of a cop, right?" Riri asked him, looking over at Hobie curiously. "So? I can fix her." Hobie folded his arms over his chest with a cocky smile. "Sure you can."

"No, really! I can. I will." He was completely confident in his ability to win her over, but the girls definitely weren't. "Always the optimistic one" Riri stated under her breath, shooting a knowing smile over at Kamala.

__________________________

Your POV

__________________________

You were sprawled out on your bed, head tilted back, eyes closed shut as your mind strained to remember the fine details of what'd happened last night. After Spider-Man had warned you, it'd all been a blur. Harry grabbing your hand and pulling you out the building, Mr. Osborne's angry yelling and the appearance of his agents, the silent ride home in the taxi...but the one thing she remembered in full was that man's voice.

He sounded so calm, so sweet, his deep voice and thick accent sending a wave of comfort down her body, relaxing every racing thought as she recalled it. He'd called her 'darling'. Well, a lot of people called her darling, but this felt different. He sounded like he really meant it, like that word was more than just a term of endearment to him.

Like he really did find her darling.

No. That was impossible. He was just trying to help her out. After all, it was thanks to him that she'd gotten out of there without a scratch, saved by a quiet warning. It didn't mean anything.

She sat up, hugging her pillow to her chest as she crossed her legs with a sigh. But why did he act like he knew her? What was he whispering to himself about? Why did he warn her specifically instead of the rest of the crowd? There must've been something else behind it, some hidden reason as to why he found her well-being more important than that of the hundreds of other partygoers in the mansion.

Why did he seem so familiar?

"Ms? Are you awake yet?"

You were broken out of your mind by the sound of knocking on the door, your maid having come to remind you of the time. You groaned and fell back onto the bed, covering your face with the pillow and rolling over to the side. 7:30. It was time for you to begin your errands of the day.

"Coming!"

__________________________

Hobie's POV

__________________________

After a proper nap, Hobie found himself ready to begin his day as Spider-Man or 'superheroing' as Kamala called it, grabbing his mask before positioning himself next to the window of his room. His body still ached, covered in cuts and scratches, but it'd have to do, because F.E.A.S.T needed his help today. 

There was a huge food transport happening today, and Hobie would have to help protect it, as F.E.A.S.T trucks were often looted due to their high loads and costly materials. This supply was extremely important though, because it was nearly Christmas, meaning F.E.A.S.T's annual holiday celebration was coming up, where they hosted a huge service during which they'd provide hours worth of entertainment, food and drinks for anyone who attended. Not only did this festival lead to an increase in volunteers, but it also helped give sign up access to people who were struggling, helping employees provide them with shelter for the coming weather.

Hobie, an avid supporter of the organization that'd saved him from homelessness, attended this Christmas festival every year, both as Spider-Man and as himself, in order to keep the attendees safe and to be able to sign up to volunteer at the shelters. It was the only 'job' he'd ever had and he hoped it was the only 'job' he'd ever take. 

Although this year, a new item had been added to his list of reasons for attending. You.

He hoped that the grandness of the festival would be enough to attract your attention, despite knowing very few members of the higher class attended. Even then, a man could wish...

He jumped out the window, pulling his mask on in the process and shooting a web towards the nearest building, propelling him in the direction of the headquarters. As he swung through the city, he kept his eyes on where the officers were patrolling, where new squads had appeared, mapping everything out in his mind. It'd help him sneak past these same places later on.

The city was overrun by pigs, Osborne's goons stationed in every section of every street, especially after yesterday's riot. The officers were on high alert, pointing their guns towards Hobie's swinging figure whenever he passed by, despite knowing they wouldn't even be able to come close to harming him.

"COZZERS!" (A British slur for cops) Hobie yelled out as he passed them by. They yelled their own share of slurs at him, but he didn't pay any mind, laughing like a maniac as he swung circles around them on his way to his destination.

He loved being Spider-man.

Sure, there was plenty of responsibility, but there was also so much freedom. Being able to stand up for what you believed in, with no fear of being thrown in jail, shot, killed or worse. You could really just do whatever you wanted and nobody could stop you. Hobie always reminded himself of that.

Whenever a fight got too intense, whenever he got a little too bashed up, he would remind himself why he was doing this. For the people. It was his own little saying really, almost like a prayer he'd tell himself before he went off to do the rash, stupid things he did every day. 

For the people.

"For the people" Hobie murmured to himself, his eyes scanning the F.E.A.S.T truck that was getting ready to leave from the dock back to the shelter. As the truck left, he did too, silently swinging by its side, being careful to stay out of sight of any criminals that might've been waiting for their chance.

And then, like he'd expected...it happened.

A car swerved in front of the truck, causing the driver to slam on the brakes. He looked around with a bewildered expression on his face, shaking his fist at the car in front of him, until the goons got out, surrounding the helpless vehicle.

Hobie swung in, knocking out one of the thugs in the process, sending the others running. It didn't take long for him to gather them all up, tie them together with his webs and then send the truck on its way, following behind until it finally reached the shelter.

When he arrived, the employees cheered, happy to see their beloved hero. He was offered food, water, the usual, but as usual he refused, gave them a salute, and went on his way. Dropping by an alleyway, he changed out of his suit, and back into good old Hobie Brown, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way back towards the shelter.

He was greeted similarly, offered high fives and water, and put to work carrying, cooking and decorating. The festival would be at the end of the week, only four days away, and there was plenty to be done. The set up had already begun, but Hobie was thrown into the kitchen for most of the day, cooking up food for the people staying in the shelter, and passing it out amongst everyone along with friendly smiles and a couple light conversations.

He made it his goal to learn the names of every person in that place, and he stayed true to it, getting to know everybody and even ending up becoming friends with some. He could relate to all these people. After all, he'd spent a good amount of time at F.E.A.S.T himself, and he knew that things could only get better from here.

Wearing a white apron and a chef's hat one of the kids had offered him, Hobie was in the process of handing out some of the last bowls of hot soup when he saw the door open. Expecting it to be another person looking for shelter entering, he ignored it, continuing to pass out the lunches. Until...he heard that voice.

"Hi, I'm here to volunteer?"

He snapped his head up, nearly dropping the ladle he had in his hand as his eyes widened. Those gorgeous eyes, that glowing skin, it was her.

He froze up as he saw one of his colleagues begin explaining things to you, handing you a sign-up sheet. He felt as thought his heart would burst when he caught your smile, the way your eyes crinkled just slightly when you laughed. He couldn't do anything but stare as you walked right past him, barely even noticing his presence.

He had to talk to you. He quickly finished handing out the bowls before he practically ripped his apron off and began walking towards you, who'd already began your work decorating the trees.

But then, he froze in his tracks.

He couldn't approach you...how could he? What if he said something weird? What if you didn't like him? What if he messed something up? No...he'd have to get your attention some other way.

__________________________

Your POV

__________________________

You were pulled into the bustle of the shelter, already part of the volunteer family despite spending so little time working. Everyone was excited to meet you, dragging you from here to there to introduce you and help you get to know the others. Everyone was really nice, happy to welcome you and excited to learn your name. You were put to work decorating the trees that were scattered around the room, mainly in the corners, hanging little globes and colorful stars on the branches, with the help of the many adorable children residing within the shelter.

You'd always wanted to work at F.E.A.S.T. You loved the idea of volunteer work and giving back to your community, but your father had never allowed you anywhere near the shelter, much less allowed you to sign up to help. He said it was a job for hippies with nothing better to do, which you heavily disagreed with.

But now, because you were older, you could do what you wanted without having to worry about him. Even if he tried to stop you, he wouldn't really be able to.

You found yourself alone as you decorated the last tree, the children who'd been accompanying you having been distracted by the promise of popsicles. You hummed quietly to yourself, gently placing a dark red ornament on one of the taller branches, getting up on your tip toes to do so.

But suddenly, you heard a noise

Thwip

You swiveled your head around, peering in the direction of the noise. Your eyes widened as you recalled where you'd heard that noise before. Standing up straight, you looked around nervously, taking a slight step back. "Show yourself!" You called out. "Don't hide! What do you want?"

Thwip

It was coming from behind you. You turned around to see the back door, just barely opened. It led to the alleyway behind the shelter. That must be where it's coming from.

As you approached the door, you hesitated for a moment. Was it really a good idea for you to be following a strange noise towards an empty alleyway? You shrugged.

Thwip

You opened the door cautiously, peering outside. Standing there, leaning against the wall, was exactly who you were expecting. "'ello, darling" he said with a wink.

"You...what are you doing here?" You asked, approaching him in awe. Maybe your suspicions were right. There was a reason behind how he'd warned you last night. Why else would he be visiting you again?

"Just wanted t'say hi to m'favorite lass" he said, stretching his arms out as he walked toward you, shoving his hands into his vest. He leaned down toward you slightly, his figure towering over yours. "We left off pretty abruptedly"

"Who are you?" You breathed out, looking up at him with a slight smile on your face, still in disbelief at the fact that he was standing there, in front of you, talking to you like he'd known you for years.

"Your friendly neighborhood Spider-man of course. Don't tell me you haven't heard of me?" He said teasingly.

"Yesterday-why-how-why did you-?" Your mind was flooded with questions, a string of horribly worded sentences flowing out of your mouth as you rambled. "Woah, calm down." He said, putting his hands up in front of him. "How 'bout I take y'somewhere quieter first? Hmm?"

He leaned in a little closer again. "I know a place where I can answer all y'questions" He looked to the side. "Maybe even get t'know each other a little more too"

"No."

He blinked at you. "No? Wha-what d'ya mean, no?" His shoulders slumped slightly and his voice went up an octave, on the verge of cracking.

"I'm not going to follow a wanted criminal to a quiet place that I've probably never even heard about" You said with a scoff. You leaned back on your heel and turned in the other direction, about to walk away, despite still being fairly curious. 

"Wait!"

You smirked to yourself and looked over your shoulder. He scrambled towards you, his lanky arm reaching out towards you, palm up. "Please. I-I need to talk to you." You looked down at his palm disinterestedly, raising your eyebrow at him. "And why would I agree to that?"

"Because I'm Spider-Man."

"What's your point?" you asked tightly, putting your hand on your hip.

He shook his head furiously, the eyes of his mask wide. "You don't understand, I need to talk to you!" His voice was a higher-pitch than before and he sounded like he was on the verge of begging, his hands clasping together.

"What do you need to talk to me about?"

"About-" he hesitated. "I just...want to get to know you" his voice turned deep again and he shrugged sheepishly, standing up straight and looking to the side, trying to seem nonchalant. What a weirdo.

Suddenly, it dawned over you. You scowled, turning away from him. "It's 'cuz I'm the Captain's daughter" you said softly, feeling your heart drop. He must've been trying to get close to you to gain more information about your father and the rest of the police force. "I can't believe you!"

His stance slackened, his eyes widening as he tried to defend himself. "No tha's not wh-"

"You want to befriend me?" You pointed at him. "Morph me into your perfect little rebel?!"

"No i jus-"

"I may not agree with the things my father stands for but I am not a spy and I am not some helpless little girl for you to mold into your servant!" You fumed, throwing your hands up in the air. He looked baffled as you turned away from him once again, ready to march back into the shelter without a second thought.

Thwip

A web caught onto your hand, and he yanked you back towards him, spinning you into his arms. You fell against him with a yelp, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from running away again. "Let go-" you struggled.

"Please."

You froze when you heard his voice, raspy yet soft as he desperately held you down out of the fear that you'd leave. "Please. I need to talk to you." he whispered. You looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly as you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. "I don't even know you." You said quietly.

"Then get to know me."

You hesitated for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek in frustration. "Let go." He obliged, slowly unhooking his arms from around your waist and letting them fall limp at his sides, awkwardly watching you make a decision. 

"Ten minutes. That's all you get."

The eyes of his mask lit up and you could tell he was grinning at you from under. "You won't regret it, doll" he said with a wink, offering you his hand as he bowed forward slightly, the way a prince would offer his hand to a princess.

You reluctantly agreed and his hand engulfed yours as he pulled you into him, barely given you a moment to adjust yourself before he lifted the two of you off the ground in one fell swoop, forcing you to have to hold onto him for dear life. He was obviously enjoying your closeness and you swore you heard a deep chuckle escape his lips when you gasped, not used to the sensation of sudden acceleration.

You kept your face buried in his neck as he swung you towards this quiet place he'd spoken about, unable to say a word. Meanwhile, he was excitedly talking your ear off, telling you that he knew you'd love what he'd picked out. You couldn't help but wonder to yourself, why was he trying so hard? What did he want from you?

"You can loosen up a little, I won't drop you luv." You heard him say quietly, as if he was afraid he'd scare you if he spoke any louder. You nervously loosened your arms around his neck, giving him a little more breathing room as he tightened his grip on your waist. You looked up from his shoulder and you were awestruck.

Everything was a blur as the two of you swung faster than you'd ever gone before, your head feeling dizzy with the buildings, cars and people disappearing faster than you could see them. You didn't know how fast he was moving and you were too afraid to ask, knowing putting a number to the speed would just make the whole experience even more daunting.

And then, you felt him begin to slow down and eventually, your feet touched the ground, sinking in just slightly. Even after feeling the dirt under your feet, you kept your arms around him in fear that you would somehow still end up falling. "Uh, darling? We're here." He said softly, a smile on his face as he looked down at you. You cleared your throat as you jumped back, unhooking yourself from him. "Right."

You looked around nervously, taking in your surroundings. He'd brought you to what looked like an abandoned building, rubble everywhere and half the walls caved in. "What is this place?" You asked softly, looking around. 

The slightly disgusted expression on your face must've been obvious, because you could tell that his mood had dropped. "I...thought you'd like it." he said softly, looking down, his hands in his pockets. "It's F.E.A.S.T's old headquarters. Before it was bombed."

F.E.A.S.T's original headquarters had been bombed by supervillains a couple years ago, which was why they had moved to a place downtown, where there would be more security and less chance of another attack. 

"Oh!" Your eyes widened and a grin appeared on your face as the memories flooded your brain. This was where you'd always told people to go when you were younger. If you ever saw someone struggling or with an empty hat out in their hands, asking for money, you'd always point them in this direction and tell them that the people here would help. It was your way of helping out when your father wouldn't let you do it properly.

"I love it." You said softly, looking around the ruins. "Thank you." His eyes lit up and he approached you slightly, hands still shoved deep into his pockets as he shrugged embarrassedly. "s'nothing really." he said quietly, keeping his eyes on you as you walked towards the window, looking out with a soft sigh.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" you asked him, looking back over your shoulder at his fidgeting figure. "I...I don't know. I didn't plan this far." He admitted, looking down. You laughed, looking back out the window. "How cute."

His head perked up. "Y'think I'm cute?"

"I think the situation's...cute." You cleared your throat. "For the lack of a better word of course." you added quickly. "Yeah, yeah of course." He kicked a rock out of his way with his foot. "So...what's your name?"

"Y/N" you said, watching some of the cars on the streets below pass by, your elbow propped up on the windowsill and your hand supporting your chin. "Y/N...pretty name for a pretty lass." he said with what you believed was a smile under his mask, coming up behind you.

"Why do you want to get to me, Spider-man?" You asked, turning around and facing him, your back pressed against the edge of the window, your head having to tilt up to look at him properly. He leaned down to get to your height. "You caught my eye."

You scoffed. "That can't be true. You said you knew me." He had asked if you'd remembered him that day at the ball, and you remembered how nervous and fidgety he'd seemed. "That I did." he said softly, trying to think up some sort of excuse.

"Where did you meet me last?" His eyes widened and he looked away, swallowing. "A while ago."

"When?"

"I can't put a date to it."

"How long ago?"

"Long." He nodded. "Very long."

You groaned out of frustration, looking back out the window. "What are you hiding from me?" You asked him. He shook his head. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Then why won't you tell me when you met me last?"

"If I tell you, you'll know who I am." He leaned in over your shoulder, looking at you. "And I can't let you know who I am."

"Then why bring me here?" You looked over your shoulder at him, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "Why go out of your way to talk to me?"

He stayed silent. "What a joke." You muttered under your breath, biting the inside of your cheek.

"Because I'm in love with you."

You froze. "What?" You asked softly, looking back at him, eyes wide and jaw practically hanging open. He cleared his throat. This was not going according to his plan. "Because I'm in love with you." He repeated, tugging at the collar of his suit as he looked to the side. "I've been in love with you for years and I'm finally acting on it."

"Look, Spider-man-" You put your hands up nervously, barely able to process what he was telling you. "-I don't even know you and-"

"That's why I brought you here." he interrupted. "Because I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me."

Your breath hitched in your throat. "You're quite forward, aren't you?" You said nervously, feeling yourself get a little dizzy. Your heart was beating very fast and not in the love-sick way. You were afraid. You were stuck in an abandoned building with a strange man who you believed had been watching you. Anyone would be afraid.

"Look, I know you probably think I'm some creep-" he started, his voice sounding slightly strained as he tried to get you to see the situation from his point of view, "-but it's not like I've been watching you. I saw you once and I couldn't get over you. he said softly, his voice quieting to a whisper. 

"You've been the only thing in my mind for a long time. And that day at the ball-" he took a step towards you, "-that was only the second time I saw you and I already knew I was in love."

He noticed how nervous you seemed. "Please don't be scared." he said softly, his hand reaching out to take yours. He gently ran his finger over your palm as you looked up at him. "I swear, I just want to get to know you. I just-I just want to know who you are."

"I want to know who I fell in love with."

Tags:

@therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder

[fbfh]

Hi! Could you please write scene!reader x Leo Valdez hcs?

OH HELL YEAH!!!!! my inner tween is rioting rn /pos.

One thing Leo never got to do was experience anything normal growing up. so when he sees you and your emo bangs that cover half your face and colorful streaks and rawr XD shirt and literal mountains of colorful animal print extensions to layer, you look like a literal teenage dream. he is so drawn to you. you listen to nightcore remixes while you teach him how to flat iron and tease the back of your hair. you show him how to do perfect claw hands to pose for photos and it becomes such a stim for him. yk how some people reflexively peace sign?? Leo now does claw hands. you make him kandi all the time too. he has a constantly growing collection of bracelets and cuffs and necklaces, even little charms for his suspenders. he fucking loves every single piece you make him. you practice painting his nails rainbow checkerboard print while you listen to blood on the dancefloor. you show him every episode of invader zim, and he loves watching the way your heavy eye makeup get all smudgy and blurred as it wears away throughout the day. he absolutely loves the way you get little tear tracks and crinkles in your eye makeup from laughing and smiling so much. he loves your crunchy hair and heavy eyeliner and insane collection of accessories. he loves the taste of monster energy and fruitloops lipbalm on your lips.