#The art alone is just so fucking wonderful and I look at that little spider and I love it 😭😭😭

[shyspider]

just returned to tumblr and saw that my favorite writer is not doing so well. i sure hope you're taking all the time you need to recover from whatever is happening in your life. it's okay not to be okay, but please take care of yourself. much love

This is beyond sweet - I legit teared up when I found this in my inbox this morning.

I never expected such support from others on here. I really am genuinely grateful. "It's okay to not be okay" is something I needed to hear. I'm working on feeling better. Thank you. So very very much.

Much Love ❤️Especially to you

[reverieblondie]

Partners

Pairing: Kaine Parker x gnSpider-person!Reader

Warnings: Kaine has a potty mouth and threatens people but other than that just fluff!

Summary: You get called into Miguel's office for a new mission, you wonder who you will get partnered with, though it shouldn't be a surprise by now...

A/N: okay I know this is the fic nobody is asking for but the heart wants what the heart wants. and I want grumpy Kaine Parker to hold my hand while he threatens to beat up people. No, I'm not going to apologize. This fic was inspired by @eughi wonderful art of Kaine! if you want to know more about this character please check out their account they are amazing!

The picture that started my obsession here

he's just so pretty!

Word count: 2,797

In the dim light of Miguel's office, you stand listening patiently as he debriefs you on your next mission. This is all nothing new to you, some dimension, a new anomaly, you have had this debriefing many times now. Though the places and targets change you know what to expect by now there is only one thing that keeps you listening intently to the drull words of the spider society's brave leader. 

Once he's done drilling into you what dimension and what anomaly you are supposed to capture, it's the moment you had been waiting patiently to hear, who your partner is for this mission. This was the thing you looked forward to hearing, Partner assignments. Would it be Jess? Webslinger? Spider-cat? You loved that little ball of fuzz. As you're cycling through the possibilities of who you could be teamed up with, it's then that your answer walks into the room. 

Kaine Parker, in his very iconic suit of red and black, it’s littered with stitches. You didn’t know if they were from getting patched up after fights or just for aesthetic purposes. But either way, they did look pretty cool. Scarlet lenses of his mask keep on you as his tall figure approaches, you know he's studying you and also sizing you up. -Honestly, it’s no surprise if he was, he sizes up everyone without needing to say a word.

Being paired with Kaine again shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Not being exactly social and his fighting methods leaning towards more…intense, it didn’t exactly make him easy to work with. Not surprising though, The dude is the definition of intimidating with his 6’4 height and broad muscular figure, plus his brash nature made it hard for people to adjust to. Aside from Peter B and Ben, you're the only other person he would go on missions with. Opting to go alone when paired with anyone else, and if they protest they are promptly threatened. Edgy, but you kinda enjoyed that about him. 

Standing next to you now you wait patiently as Miguel debriefs him, it’s a much more summarized version than what you had to experience. Kaine is not the type to listen to a lengthy explanation, he’s more get the facts than get out kinda guy. Hell he didn’t even go to the mandatory monthly meetings.

As you stand there your senses are going haywire, looking up to where they are thrumming from you see those lenses staring down at you. Kaine seemed to have a staring problem and your spider senses always went crazy when he was. Maybe it was because of his sheer size, or it was possibly from seeing how easily he had zero qualms ripping into enemies when he deemed it necessary. Whatever it was, no other spider made your senses crazy like he did. 

Once Miguel is done with his debriefing, Kaine is already opening a portal to the dimension ready to get this over with, ruthless and efficient. What more could you want? 

“I want them captured in one piece, Kaine,” Miguel calls after us as we approach the portal. 

You give a dutiful nod in understanding, Kaine however…

“Keep telling me what to do and I will break your fucking face…” 

Luckily for you, he said it as he went into the portal, the last thing you need to be doing is trying to pull those two off each other….again….

----

“Yeah, then Kaine called like a million spiders to cover up the anomaly and proceeded to beat them to a pulp. He really can’t stand any Jackel variant.”

Munching into your burger you're still talking about your mission you had with Kaine a few days ago. Hobie and Gwen seem bewildered by your story, the young spiders having had little to no interaction with Kaine always seemed to look forward to the stories of your missions with him. Though you argue Peter B has the better ones involving Kaine. As you talk Peter nods in agreement, seeming to signal that he understands all the little quirks that make up Kaine. 

A few more minutes into your conversation Jess is strolling up to the table to join you all for lunch. Using only the context of the story she quickly deciphers who you're talking about. 

“Kaine huh, another intense mission with the scarlet spider?”

“Yeah, tasked to catch a rogue Jackal. You would think Miguel would learn not to let Kaine on Jackal missions considering how messed up they are when they arrive here. But he gets the job done and he's not a bad guy to have on a mission. Plus sometimes it’s funny when he cusses at the anomalies.”

They give you an odd look and you shrug going back to eating your food. As you're eating you're suddenly being interrupted mid bite by Gwen. 

“Okay I am sorry but I am dying to know. What does Kaine look like?” 

The completely odd question takes you back for a moment, “You know…red lenses…black and red-” 

“No, no, no,” she quickly interjects “I mean his face.” 

Without much thought, you point towards Peter, and this causes Peter to scoff, “Okay just because he's one of my clones doesn’t mean we are exactly alike…”  

Taking a second to think you nod, “You know you're right. Imagine a way cooler-looking Peter with long auburn hair and face scares.” 

The young spider's face lights up at the information and Peter shoots you a displeased look, he already gets teased enough from how Kaine and Ben are total beefcakes compared to him, but Kaine has height and cool looks beating him now.  Then you suddenly remember something. 

“Oh sometimes he forgets to shave so he will have a scruff going on, honestly looks pretty nice on him and fits the vibe.” 

This comment seems to make Jess snicker and smile towards you. “Well just wait till he finds that out…he won't shave anymore…” 

Rolling your eyes you shoot her a glare, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Peters chiming in now. “You know what she means…”

“Okay, let me just set the shit straight. Pardon the language kids. Kaine doesn't like me like that, he threatened my life the other day when I got in his way.” 

“Then why does he only partner with you?” 

“With that logic, he might like you, Peter?” 

“Woah, woah, first gross, second me and Ben are like his brothers. You're the only one not in the family he will be around.” 

“Because he has to.” you counter

“Because he wants to.” Jess persisted

Going to move to your next argument about how you two are nothing more than partners; it being because maybe he just likes your fighting style, your watch is suddenly blaring calling you in for a mission. Gwen and Hobie laugh as Jess and Peter give you a smug look as you get up to leave the table. Shielding your face from Gwen and Hobie you mouth a “Fuck you” to them. Sure Kaine's vulgar language may be getting to you but that doesn’t mean you're going to be cussing at kids…not yet at least…

As you walk to Miguel's office for your mission assignment, you find yourself walking rather briskly. Kaine might be your partner again…

The thought makes your senses haywire and you walk to the office faster…

—-

Kaine ended up not being your partner for that disaster of a mission. Laying in the infirmary your whole body still aching despite the painkillers you were given. Moving carefully you're very aware of the stitches patching up your side that ache in every which way you move. Your first mission with a different partner besides Kaine in forever and it failed ending with you both in a hospital bed. 

Lucky for you though you got to be in your own private room not having to hear the complaining of your partner's screw-ups that resulted in this. Miguel is sure to give them a long lecture when they get well…as for you you're probably going to be HQ bound till you heal up all the way. You just had to be one of the spiders without fast healing…just your luck…

Laying there you're trying to just close your eyes to try and forget about the terrible mission and your current pain but a loud bang outside makes you jump and look towards the door to the hallway. Loud yelling that sounds…familiar…Then it's that tingling of your senses only one spider can get from you. 

“Where are they?!” 

Crash, Bang, skreech!

“Wait, they are resting you can’t go in there!” 

“What are you going to do? stop me?” 

Before you can even register what’s going on Kaine is pushing through your door locking it so nobody can come in. Turning to you he looks pissed! You open your mouth to say something but he quickly silences you, 

“Shut up!” 

Next to you now; the conversion abruptly ended before it could begin, he’s looking over you examining your face and your bandages, bruises and cuts litter your body and the bandages are wrapped all around you but you're okay, you're alive. Suddenly Kaine claw like hands are gently gliding over your skin tracing the brushes and cuts as gently as possible. The touch sends shivers through your body you're hoping he doesn't notice. 

Still surveying you he takes his mask off abruptly, his scared face is scrunched in an angry expression, and deep brown eyes are staring at you studying you. You can’t help but feel more intimidated with him out of his mask than when he’s sizing you up in it. Those intense brown eyes are magnetic, his handsome features on full display. Some people might think the scars take away from his handsome face but you think it only makes him look better. Way cooler-looking than Peter… 

“Who was with you?” he says in a suddenly calm voice compared to how he came in. 

“What?”

“Dammit! Can you not hear? Who were you partnered with and what dimension was it?!” - and the yelling is back…

“Spider guy from 2782, dimension 38, vulture anomaly…” you say quickly, still confused why he was asking… 

His hand comes up to rub the top of your head gently, a very personal and friendly gesture for him. Staring intently at you, there is almost a softness in his stony eyes, it's…different from any way you have ever seen before. Your breath seems to suddenly evaporate from you. This is a completely different…loving side of him you have never experienced from him…it doesn't seem real…are you in a coma? 

“I’m going to kick his ass, then kill that anomaly…” -no this is real…

Once he's done speaking he’s stopping his rubbing on top of your head and now he gently glides his hand down to your cheek. 

“Wait-”

Before you can protest he’s already at the door unlocking it and leaving the infirmary. Gone without even looking back at you…typical Kaine… 

____

The rumors of Kaine's warpath quickly spread all over HQ and got back to you. Spider Guy got spared due to the doctors intervening after much convincing. Though all that rage ended up getting released on the vulture anomaly you and guy failed to get. 

Vulture barely made it out with his life and was in critical condition once he was turned in. Of course, this caused Miguel and Kaine to get into it. Those two seem to always find a way to fight despite them having similarities…maybe one day they could be friends? Though with how little they interact with people socially, their hanging out would properly be them just staring at each other in a room plotting how they would kick one another's ass. 

It has been a few days since the mission you were released from the infirmary but still not cleared to go back to mission work. So this means your days have devolved to you walking around HQ. Why you didn’t just take this time to sit at home in your dimension and relax you didn’t fully know. Though a part of you truly knew what you were doing, deep down you were looking for Kaine.

Of course after everything that happened and after what he did. He didn’t even come to talk to you. Or check in on how you were healing, hell everyone else did but your usual partner goes on an almost murder spree but can't bother to say hi. Though that's not his style, he's the ‘only I can kick your ass and if anyone else does it they are a dead’ kind of friend. Plus when he saw you he seemed…upset, could it be hard for him to see you inquired? For a moment you ponder the idea before quickly shaking it off.

Walking some more around HQ you find that you're in a more isolated area, a rarity for the society. Usually, everyone was so packed together so this is a welcome change of pace. Enjoying the quiet you look to the windows to observe the city but your eyes land on something else. Kaine without his mask hair tied in that half-up knot that compliments his face shape so perfectly. His brown eyes are so focused on the city, he looks lost and thought, you almost feel bad for going over to break his concentration but you haven’t seen him and you want to talk to him. 

Making your approach you plop down next to him, your eyes are on him but he keeps his forward but you know he knows it's you next to him so you skip the greetings. 

“So, I heard you went a bit overboard. Not that I'm surprised. But breaking the anomalies' kneecaps and leaving the dimension in a panic does seem like an escalation from your normal methods…”  Leaning over you try to meet his eyes but he keeps them straight ahead before he sighs, 

“I would have burned that dimension down if I needed to” Your mouth slightly drops and your eyes widen, well that's ...different… your heart racing now you feel that familiar tingling…how this guy rattles and intrigues you.

Sliding his eyes over he looks at you before he turns his head fulling, eyes tracing where your inquiries once were but have now been healing. In his eyes you think you see relief though with Kaine’s stoic expression you can never be too sure…

“Why did you do all that?” -the question seems almost stupid in hindsight. 

Kiane's eyes meet your face for a moment staring silently into your eyes before looking back out into the futuristic city. “Your my partner, and I don’t need you getting hurt because of some other idiots mistakes” 

The answer makes you laugh a bit, always so judgemental and coarse about others. Then the words you always think of asking but never do slip your lips next, “Why do you like to go on missions with me?” 

Kaine takes a minute to think before he shrugs “I guess, things are just a bit better with you around….” 

A smirk appears on your lips and as he looks back at you and huffs with an eye roll. “Shut up…” 

All you can do is slightly laugh before nudging him “Well, I like being around you too, best partner someone could get paired with.” 

You know that even if his face isn't changing in expression you know your words mean something to him. At least that's what you're hoping, Kaine is great and you're fond of him despite how others feel about his rough nature. He's a good guy even if he doesn't think so, but you are willing to take the time to convince him of that. 

A couple of minutes pass before you move to get up and give him some alone time, something you are sure he values. As you stand you feel something that stops you in your tracks. Looking down you see Kaine's large hand on yours holding you gently, moving your gaze to his face you see that he’s avoiding eye contact looking away from you with a furrowed brow and a slight pout on his lips. 

Sitting back down you hold his hand gently back and you watch as the blush slowly dusts his cheeks. You have to hold back the urge to call him cute. Holding your hand is a huge step of affection for him if you tease him now he will never be vulnerable again to you. 

Time passes and you keep your hand in his as you gently slide your thumb across his large hand. The silence is comfortable and as you turn to look at him you swear you see the slight tinge of a smile….what a softie….

[simpcityy]

Hi! :)

Can I request a one shot or head cannons if the spider teens + Miguel (platonic) with a reader who is like jolyne cujoh from Jo-Jos bizarre adventure they are also a spider person I’ll link below jolyne and her stand in case you do pick up this request and don’t know much about either of them

Stone free/stone ocean -> https://jojo.fandom.com/wiki/Stone_Free

Jolyne cujoh/kujo -> https://jojowiki.com/Jolyne_Cujoh

Anyways have a nice day/night :)

My second ever request! It took so long to write this since I was having a hard time, I'm not familiar with Jo-jos Bizarre Adventure but after seeing the amazing color concept and style, it's on my list to watch! Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! ( I hope this is what you had mind 😊)

Hobie: 🧷The moment he met you, one thing came to mind. You’re going to be his new partner in crime. The moment he heard about your small crimes you’ve committed since you were young. You would be perfect in his small projects of fighting the government establishment. 🧷 Especially hearing the time you were in a maximum-Security Ward; he definitely wants to help you put more crap into your government establishment in your earth as well. It must have been tough for you, but he salutes you for pushing it through, making you more amazing to him. Heck, he has mad respect for you for taking one for the team knowing you were innocent. He looks at you talking with others, just by the way you look, he wouldn’t have a clue that you went through so much. He definitely wouldn’t mind doing favors for you, he doesn’t believe in taking orders but you’re an exception. 🧷Whenever he finds matching pins, he always hands you the other half. “What’s this? Wouldn’t you give this to Pav?”  “Nah, this suits you more” Would be his excuse, seeing you wear the pins on your suit or bag got him smiling proudly since the pins were pretty much saying ‘fuck the govenment’ and so on. 

Gwen: 🥁Your style is what brought her closer to you before dating you. She wonders if you dyed your hair all by yourself but one thing, she could agree is that your style is pretty cool. She even thinks about growing her hair out to try cool and funky hairstyles like yours. 🥁The first time she talked to you; her first conversation started was. “Can you adopt me?” “What…” Was your only response to her odd question. Gwen has to admit, having you as an older/younger sibling would be so cool and fun.

🥁It kind of happened over time, you two would dye each other's hair and even taught Gwen to do your signature hairstyle on yourself. Motivating the girl to grow her hair out to do a similar style like yours and even dye her hair more to express herself.

Pav: 🍵Once you stepped foot into the HQ, he was asking all sorts of questions. Is your hair naturally like that? What’s your Stands job? How were you bit? So much more that Hobie had to snap him out of it as Pav had his eyes glowing with admiration once you were introduced by Miguel. His friendly and cute behavior is what made you two into the cute couple. 🍵What made you stand out to him was your flashy colors and choice of clothing which he finds so cool. Even the way you fight had a flashy style and overall, he found it amazing how different you are from different spider people. When Pav joined the team for the first time, he felt like he didn’t belong from how different he was but now, he doesn’t feel alone when you joined the team. 🍵 A lot of Chai breaks to gossip the latest romance between the spider-people. He feels so happy to share this little hobby of his. While you get the juicy gossip of what happens when you’re off working. You have to admit, he’s pretty good at being cupid. I mean look how happy you two are with each other.

Miles: 🖌 You are a new inspiration to his book of art. Pages and pages filled with you in different poses, standing, drinking and he even captured some of your fighting poses when you were assigned a mission with him.  When you discover his book laying around at his place, he was having a mental breakdown only to feel stupid for overreacting when you were cool with it and even offer to pose for him to draw different angles. 🖌 Hangouts and dates are mostly consisting in his earth teaching you how to do a mural in some alley wall. It brings him a sense of relief since he used to be taught by his uncle and now, he gets to share moments like this again with someone he cherishes, you and sometimes would take the time to admire your stand from up close. Your stand has their own personal mural of them created by Miles! 🖌 Found a new person who admires his sneaker collection. Seeing the way, you dressed yourself, he introduced you to the whole sneaker world and he has to say, he got you addicted to getting yourself new kicks once a month as a treat for yourself for saving lives. You even got Miles some limited editions from your earth, let's just say, you're the street fashion couple. Miguel (platonic): 🕷️ Miguel finds you troublesome, but he admits one thing to himself that he would never tell anyone not even Lyla, the strength you carry to the team, he admires it. Seeing you always making sure no one comes back injured after a mission. He does scold you for taking all the hits. “Ay niño/ niña! Don’t be the punching doll for others!” It’s like a father scolding their crazy teenager which Lyla always has fun watching the chaos between the two of you. 🕷️ He has many questions like Pav but his are more about your past. He knows how it feels to have a shitty dad so he would always check up on you. How was the mission? Did you eat? The brand sold out your favorite hair dye, come check his earth to see if it’s stocked there. He hates to admit but, he bonded with you over the similarities of childhood trauma. 🕷️He has complained about your clothing choice, and he knows it’s how you express yourself, but his excuse is always, “You’re showing too much skin, Look! “ Comments that every parent worries about their child's safety, Miguel is one of them. Always giving the glare to any of the young spiderlings that get close to you or even lay a hand on your shoulder but in the end, he respects it but he still keeps an eye on anyone who stares at you for too long. As Lyla tells him, “you’re just a single tired father with a punk type, angsty type of teenerager.”

Author notes: THANK YOU I HAVE REACHED 200 FOLLOWERS. Wow, also thank you for loving my I'm not her series, it's the most popular out of all the works I did so far. So, I am working on that. The poll also finished so I will do that 100-follower special as well.

[pb-dot]

The Things I really loved in Spider-Verse

Or: I feel like an asshole for ragging on a movie that I for the most part enjoyed a lot.

So, as mentioned in my less-than-glowing review, there are several things that I loved in Across The Spider-Verse that my frustration with the story kind of overshadowed. One thing, in particular, I was very impressed with was the character writing. Across, somehow, keeps the main character count roughly equivalent to Into, but the sheer finesse shown in the writing of the side characters upgrade them from cameos and gaffs to actually really cool characters in my opinion. More gushing under the cut.

First up is the villain Spot. At first, the joke about this walking Inciting Incident seems to be that he's so desperate to be Miles' Nemesis, despite getting no traction and being a profoundly pathetic villain in the process. The fact that he arguably caused Spider Miles' entire existence doesn't help, he reads like one of those current-era retcons that try to make a villain intimidating by revealing he was secretly behind everything, despite this not at all lining up with earlier movies. Looking at you, Spectre.

Then, something happens. It's not a dramatic shift or anything, but little by little the dogged determination and seething hatred for Miles that drives Spot starts to crowd out the awkwardness, and the shift is matched by his animation getting messier (in a good way) until he is this plainly inhuman extradimensional being driven by his seething hatred for our dear Morales, animated like some kind of mixture between an art film's animated depiction of severe mental illness and a late-season villain in a mech anime. Like several of the characters I'm going to talk about today, it's a shame he's not in the movie more, but given the bisected nature of the narrative, I suppose that's to be expected.

Next up to bat is Hobie and holy fuck did I not see Hobie coming. Oh, make no mistake, I knew his general deal and that he's pretty cool after all I am on Tumblr and possess a pair of mostly functional eyes, but I was not prepared for just how cool this guy is. It's not just a style thing, although his delightfully off-beat animation and Daniel Kaluya being the most British I've ever heard him, or anyone else, be, are incredibly cool to experience.

No, Hobie's strongest point is, at least for me, his convictions and how he acts on them. It is, perhaps, not a huge challenge to be the most nuanced take on punk in popular media, but the sheer panache with which Hobie pulls it off is astounding. Yes, he is a contrarian, he vandalizes stuff, and he's a bit of a shit-stirrer by nature, but that isn't all he is. In fact, if I may engage in some character interpretation, I'd suggest that all of this is a smokescreen, meant to distract from what Hobie actually is doing, which is trying to infiltrate and subvert an unjust power structure that is causing real tangible harm. If there's anything more punk than that that you could conceivably get into a mainstream movie, I don't know what is.

Look no further than how he interacts with Miles when they're alone. He nicks a bunch of stuff and acts kind of "too good to be on the team," sure, but the stuff he steals, I think can be safely assumed, are parts he needs for his bootleg dimension bracelets, and his reservations he talks about make an awful lot of sense in the context of the reveals that the Spider-Society is basically an autocratic misery machine unilaterally steered by the deeply wounded Miguel. You can also see it in the way he circumvents the entire morality discussion around what to do with Miles by letting Miles know how to break out and make up his own damn mind.

Schlubby dadbod Spider-Man Peter B Parker is perhaps a bit less of a standout than he was in Into, but he still makes for a compelling character. For a fair bit of the start, I wonder what sort of plot malarkey had Mr. Joke The Pain Away team up with Miguel, perhaps the only Spiderperson to be less about fun than Spider-Noir, but as it progressed, it painted a pretty nuanced picture. Miguel is an absolute world-class stick in the mud in addition to his other traits, but as a fresh father, I get the feeling Peter B is especially sensitive to his "lost my daughter twice over" backstory. It is also possible, although there's that insidious character interpretation thing again, that he feels like he can be a moderating influence on Miguel and perhaps curb his most intense edgyboy impulses, a dream that shatters about the time Miguel attempts to break through the spiderporter with sheer primal rage. He has not helped, he has been an enabler.

I've talked indirectly about Miguel a fair bit so far, and while I wouldn't count myself a fan, he is too emotionally distant as the uncompromising leader and entirely too driven by raw emotion as the dogged pursuer to be super interesting to me, but I do like the effect he has on the plot. Miguel operates on a mix of Comic Book Guy trope obsession and the very boomer "If I've suffered in my past, similar or greater suffering is mandatory," and he does so with such dogged zeal that he kind of bends the plot space-time around him. His conviction that Things Are Worth Doing Because They're Hard to Do And Feel Bad is such that even fairly reasonable spiderpeople like Gwen and Peter B end up doing his bidding.

Gwen operates in a bit of an awkward space in this movie, as the intro and outro seem to cast her as the protagonist, which is out of sync with the literal entire rest of the movie revolving around Miles. It's a shame though, because Gwen is very good in this. While her role in Into was more to be the "kinda too cool for this" Spiderperson Miles can, and should, get to be, her journey through the "actually being a spiderperson feels pretty bad"-wash cycle is compelling. If the story was more about Gwen realizing she's letting her hurt take her to a bad place, I would not mind it one bit. Left as a subplot it still works, but so dearly wanted to see it truly blossom.

So in short, I really liked the character writing in Across The Spider-Verse and I am a little sad most of my favorites didn't get as much screentime as they perhaps should, but I do hope they get their moment in the sun in the sequel. Also, a brief shoutout to Earth 42 Uncle Aron for being both scarier and somehow more sympathetic in his few minutes on screen than Miguel manages for the entire movie.

[hangezoeenthusiast]

Totem of Undying

gn!reader

person: c!technoblade

word count: 1,852

warnings: blood, yelling, cursing, failed execution (art not mine, SAD-ist on youtube)

One day, you were pacing across Techno’s floor, wearing out the carpet, wondering were he was. He was gone for 9 days, and normally he isn’t out for that long.

He specifically said before his little expedition, “I won’t be gone long, I just got to get something for Phil.” “Ok, have fun honey.” you said, not looking up at him from your book. “You’re sure you don’t need anything?” he asked, trying to find a way to spend a little more time with you before he left. “Yeah, I’m sure, just tell Phil that I said hi.”

“Ok, bye my Aphrodite.”

Ever since, you haven’t gotten any messages on the comms, no messenger birds from him, or any sign of communication between the piglin hybrid and you.

“If he was going to Phil, then I should call Phil.” you murmured under your breath. How could you forget, he said he was going to get something for Phil, so he must be with him.

You looked for you phone, and called Phil’s number. “Hello, who is this?” replied on the other side of the phone. “Phil, is this you, I need to talk to you.”

“Oh hey Y/n, how are you doing?” “Not particularly well, um I have a question, is Techno there, he isn’t answering my calls.”

"Umm, well, he isn't here right now." he states, regret lacing his words. "Well where is he, it's urg-" Phil cut you off, "Y/n, you don't know?"

"What do you mean Phil?"

"I don't wanna say this, but he got captured by the Butcher Army." "Are you fucking kidding me, when he get caught?" you questioned. "IThey came to your house a few days ago, didn't you see them?" "No, I don't think so."

Then you suddenly remembered, “I think they might have came to our house. I was on a trip to get some spider eyes, so I guess that’s when they came over and got Techno.”

“Yeah, they haven’t come back yet, they tried to interrogate me, but I said no, and then they put an ankle monitior on me.” “They decided that if I wasn’t going to tell them anything, they would confine me to my house.”

You apologized to him, “I’m sorry Phil, hopefully you get that off soon enough.” “It’s fine Y/n/n, right now, what I’m concerned about is Techno. The Butcher Army built something, it’s a little cage with an anvil, I watched them build it, but it was kinda vague to me.” "I'm coming to L'Manberg Phil, I'll be there in a hour or so." "Ok, be safe."

-

You arrived in L'Manberg, looking for Phil's house. "Hey Y/n." he spoke. "Right back at you Phil, how are you doing today?" "I'm doing eh, I'm just worrying about Techno." "Me too, hopefully he turns up soon."

So then you stayed with Phil for a while, drinking tea and talking about random stuff. You were trying to buy your time until Techno popped up somewhere, preferably unharmed.

“Yeah Phil, there was-” Hooves stomped on grass, triumphant talking covering every sound outside. The people that cut you off was the Butcher Army, who was boasting their victory over their fight with Technoblade.

Techno, blood all over his skin, bruises on his face, barely showing any sign of his true skin tone. Chains rapping all over his body so he wouldn't escape. You felt devastated, what had they done to him? Behind them was Quackity riding Carl, holding him hostage so Techno couldn't escape on his steed. "What did they do to you?" you whispered under your breath.

They led Techno to the stage, when he looked up at you and Phil, suprise basking his face. "PHIL, PHIL, WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU PHIL, Y/N, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he yelled from under you guys. "I'M FINE TECHNO, THEY PUT AN ANKLE MONITOR ON ME." Phil screamed back.

They dragged him away from the house, bringing him onto the stage. "LEAVE PHIL AND Y/N ALONE YOU HEAR ME, LEAVE THEM ALONE." he retaliated. They locked him in the cage, where he was waiting his impending doom.

"Technoblade, this is actually not a trial, if you look up, you can see an anvil hanging down. When we press that lever down there, what it's going to do is drop on you and it's going to fucking kill you."

After Quackity's little statement, he demanded Tubbo to explain to everyone what was happening, but what they didn't know was that there was an ally, or friend of Techno's that would help him sooner or later.

After Tubbo spoke about how Techno betrayed the country, and how he had to pay for his wrongdoings, Punz swooped in, throwing snowballs to distract the Butcher Army. With his armor clad self, he started to attack them, momentarily trying to buy time for Techno. He splashed potions all around himself and the Butcher Army.

Then he started to load up the stage with unlit TnT, sending a warning to the Butcher Army not to fuck with him. Quackity yelled in scaredness, hoping that Punz wouldn't light the TnT. "PUNZ, PUNZ, CHILL THE FUCK OUT PUNZ, CALM DOWN." Quackity begged. He didn't stop, and that lead to the whole Butcher Army attacking him with their axes.

While they were chasing Punz, they didn't realize that he slipped Techno a totem of undying. That's right, one of the only things that can prevent death if someone was to kill someone else. So when Punz left the scene, and Ghostbur came to the stage to secretly tell Techno that he named his sheep "Friend", they started to prepare for execution.

"Ok, no more, I'm pulling this fucking lever." Quackity stated. And there is was, he pulled the lever, and the anvil went crashing down on Techno's head. But Quackity didn't know that he had a totem of undying in his hand, so when the anvil came down on Techno, there was a flurry of green and yellow sparks all around him, protecting him from his death.

During the little show, Techno escaped the iron cage, and ran for his life. The Butcher Army was confused, why did Technoblade die, he was supposed to perish, right?

He ran to the little hole in the ground, and was meet by Dream, riding Carl. Dream started to block up the hole, while Techno rode Carl to victory. As he rode Carl, he reached a control room, where there was chests filled with stuff for specific people. There was Eret's, Tubbo's, his, and many others.

He looted his chest, put iron armor on, and started to prepare for his journey. He splashed potions onto his body, giving him strength for a few minutes, and swiftness. When he realized that the pathway wasn't large enough for both him and Carl, he started to break blocks so he and Carl wouldn't suffocate in the walls.

While he was doing that, Quackity sneaked up behind him, taking him by suprise. “Techno, you’re not leaving this place, how didn’t you die?”

“None of your business Quackity, how about you leave me alone.”

“You’re my business Techno, and as long as you’re alive, this server is going to go to shit.” And this the fight began, Techno only donning a pick axe for a weapons, and iron armor, and Quackity, with full netherite and all the tools you could ever need for a fight.

Their weapons clashed together into a disgusting sound. “I’M GOING TO DEFEAT YOU TODAY TECHNOBLADE.” shouted Quackity, thinking he was going to win. “NOT A CHANCE.” Techno answered.

Quackity was clearly arrogant in this matter, even though he had the good stuff, and Techno had the shitty stuff that would be easily broken, he forget something. He forgot that he didn’t have technique, and Techno was the great night Blood God. Technoblade could’ve easily, if he wanted to, take down an entire village.

But he didn’t, and that’s what Quackity didn’t realize. Yes, Techno did some shitty things in the past, but he declared that he was going to retire from the fighting, from everything that related to violence. It wasn’t necessary to try to execute him.

So when the final swing hit, Quackity with his ego to a high capacity, at almost half a heart, Techbo easily defeated and killed Quackity, taking one of his canon lives.

-

You paced across the wooden floor for 10 minutes. “Phil, is Techno ok, where is he, why isn’t he here right now, Phil-” you cut yourself off, “Phil, is he dead?” “No he isn’t Y/n/n, I know Techno, he’s still alive, trust me.” he assured you, trying to comfort your thoughts, but it wasn’t getting to you.

Techno had to be dead, an anvil fell on him. “But what was the green and yellow sparks, what was the reason for that?” you thought. Was that a distraction, or was it something more significant.

“Phil, are you sure he’s-” he interrupted you with a shush. “Do you hear that?” he asked, not sure what’s was happening outside of his home. “No, I don’t, what’s wrong?” “Stay here Y/n.” he ignored your question.

He sneaked toward the door, trying to quiet his footsteps. He slowly opened the door, looked around, and saw Techno standing there, covered in bloody armor. “Holy shit Techno, what are you doing here, they could come any minute.”

“I need Y/n for a second.” he calmly said, trying to ease Phil’s nerves. “Mate, what about the Butcher-”

“I killed their leader.” “Heh?” “I killed Quackity, unfortunately it isn’t permanent.” he sighed. “Ok, first of all, weirdchamp, and secondly, please come inside, you’re worrying me right now.”

Phil let Techno in, and offered him a cup of tea. “No thanks Phil, so back to what I was saying, where is Y/n?” “Oh, they’re in the back, I thought you were someone else.” “Thanks.”

He stepped towards the direction you were in, and opened the door to find a frantic, worried Y/n. He put his body on the doorframe nonchalantly, “You missed me?” You turned around from your pacing, and looked at Techno, relief coating your eyes, “TECHNO.”

“Y/n.” he replied. You hurriedly walked to Techno, and gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my goodness I’ve missed you so much, why did you have to leave, I don’t want you to die, fuck Quackity and the rest of them...” You rambled on and on about how the Butcher Army should be convicted, and a whole bunch of other things, when Techno cut you off, “Calm down my Aphrodite, I’m back, and that’s all that matters.”

"Ok, well are you hurt anywhere, Phil has some healing pots as well as some bandages." "I'm fine, but are you ok, did they hurt you?" he put his hand on your shoulders. "I'm ok, they didn't acknowledge me."

"Well, I'm glad that was the case."

You severely hugged him again, "Please never leave without me, I don't want this happening again."

"Never Y/n, never."

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[giant-sketches]

Happy birthday @gentlegiantdreamer!!!  You are such a wonderful and inspiring person to me and I hold you dear to my heart! So for your birthday I made you this art and wrote you a little story to go along with it. I wish you a day full of fun and love! There is also a speedpaint!

I hope you can feel the effort I put into this and long hours of work too. I hope you and everyone enjoys my interpretations of Lilypadton and enjoy the story. Disclaimer: Almost Drowning/Cussing/Pain/Shouting/Monster Transformations

Word Count: 1746

At the start Patton was very active after his first transformation as Lilypadton. That may have been due to him going about the day believing it was a one time deal, but that wasn’t the case. From time to time the other sides would catch glimpses of his skin turning green around his hands and dark patches appearing on his neck. However, whenever the subject was brought up with the moral side he’d brush it off as a trick of the light or some kind of baking material he missed in his clean up. They all knew better though, especially his boyfriends Janus and Virgil.

“We need to go talk to him….TODAY!” Janus was pacing around Virgil’s room with his arms crossed, expressing his impatience with his partner.

Virgil thought it best to give Patton space, but his changes were becoming more frequent. Now things were even worse as their cutie had locked himself in his room for the past two days.

“I know you wanted to give him space, but now he’s trapped himself in his room. We’re the only ones on this side of the mindscape that can help him through this.” Janus hissed and cursed himself for not doing something sooner.

“Please calm down Jan.” Virgil got up from his bed to hold his boyfriend. “It’s going to be alright. Let’s go see him now and tell him about what’s happening to him.” He paused in thought. “Though, I never thought we’d ever have this kind of discussion with him honestly. To think he was like us this whole time.”

Janus touched his scaled face and looked at Virgil with soft eyes. “Are you going to show him? You know how h-” “Yeah I know...but I have to. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hide it when he’s going through something ten times worse.” Janus kissed Virgil’s cheek to reassure him.

Both left the room and slowly made their way to Patton’s door. Virgil tried the door knob, still locked. “Patton? Sweetpea we’ve come here to see how you are doing. Can you let us in, please?” Silence...no wait there was some kind of groaning sound coming from behind the door. “G-go away…” Was that Patton just now? It sounded like he was gurgling water while trying to speak.

“We can’t do that! We have something important to talk-or show you!” Janus looked to Virgil nervously. The former dark side nodded his head as Jan’s nails grew out to a point and sliced the doorknob off. “Excuse the intrusion.”

Both stepped into a darkened and rather humid room. Thankfully, both of them could see in the dark. In the corner they spotted Patton curled up and shaking, facing the wall. He visibly showed signs of changing with his green tinted skin and dark patches all over his arms and neck. “Pat?”

Startled, Patton sprang to his feet and turned to face them. They gasped at how their little buddy appeared taller now, his eyes now distinctly like a frog’s, and his hair showed faded tips of green. His eyes were filled with tears as he had to look down at his friends. He felt like a monster!

“No, no please….you have to LEAVE!” Patton’s voice croaked and boomed as he shot up another 10 feet and banged his head on the ceiling with a loud thunk. He groaned as he fell to his hands. The tears intensified as water seeped from the cracks in the wall and began flooding the room.

“Shit! Hold on to me!” Virgil clung to Janus for dear life as they quickly rose to the ceiling with the increasing water level. Patton was down below still weeping and expanding. His form pressing up against every nook and cranny of his tiny room. “Patton! Patton please! You need to stop crying or we’re going to- gurrglrrglr”

Time was up. The water had now completely filled the room as Janus and Virgil started sinking. Luckily, their froggy friend heard their pleas and snapped out of his distress. Quickly he expanded the room, changing it’s form as he scooped up the two tenderly in his webbed hands. With a kick of his strong legs Pat breached the surface. The room was now a large pond with only a small island in the center. The sun was warm and there was the sound of life all around them, but this was no time to relax.

“Virgil? Janus? Oh my gosh please, you have to be okay kiddos! Please!” Patton begged for his sweethearts to be okay as he set them on the soft grass. He poked at their stomachs as gently as he could.

*Cough* *Cough*

Oh thank goodness! Both were hacking up small volumes of water as they gasped for air, sweet-sweet air! “Patton?” Their vision was foggy from nearly drowning as they tried to focus on the green blob in front of them. Virgil raised up his arms, “A-are you okay?”

“What do you mean am I okay?! Are you okay? You two almost drowned b-because of me!” The big softie was on the verge of tears once again as he leaned in to nuzzle his dark darling with his nose.

“Woah...how big are you Patty?” Virgil giggled. He definitely wasn’t expecting to be cuddled by a gentle green snout of all things. “We’re okay Pat. Just a bit out of breath and-” Janus shivered, he had gotten too cold.

Virgil noticed as he escaped from Patton’s schnoz and immediately started cuddling up to his scaly boyfriend to warm him up. Pat climbed up onto the island, but at his current size of 100 feet he covered the majority of it as he scooped them up in his hand to hold them both closer to the sun. Jan was thankful for this as he hissed happily. His cold blood started to run warm again.

“Thank you darling! The numbness is fading now.” He lifted himself up to look at Patton with a warm expression. “Wow, look at you Pat.” “Yeah, Mr. Green right here.” They both joked to cut the tension. Patton laughed along with them as the ground shook, causing ripples in the water. His size really was something to behold. Still, their joy was cut short, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bottled up my emotions like that and hidden away. You two could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Oh Patty! We understand…w-we have something to tell you.” Virgil looked to Janus hoping he would start. “That’s right Patton, Virgil and I have both gone through what you’re experiencing right now. Okay, maybe not the exact same thing, but something similar.”

Patton was surprised. “W-what do you mean?” Janus smiled flashing his fangs, “I’m sure you’ve already noticed my face, but have you ever wondered why it looks like this?” Pat shook his head, he always thought it’d be taboo to ask about. “It’s because of my monster side.”

Monster side?! What was that? Patton was obviously confused as Virgil spoke up, “Mhm...Janus, Remus, and I...we all have a monster side to us. Janus doesn’t hide his like I do though and Remus is always shifting so it just seems ‘normal’ for him. It was a huge surprise when yours was revealed. Honestly, I never thought you’d be like us Pat.” Virg was feeling anxious as he kept his head down while talking.

“B-but you’ve never looked like Janus at all Stormcloud. What does your monster side look like?” Damn...that was a question he really wanted to avoid. “Guess there’s no use hiding it anymore huh? B-before I show you, you have to promise me you won’t freak out...okay Pat?”

Virgil looked so serious as he stared at Patton. What was he so worried about? “Awe kiddo, you know I’d never be scared of you! I love you too much!” He beamed a smile that put the sun to shame at them as Virgil sighed feeling a bit more relieved. “Alright.”

Concentrating, he closed his eyes as eight pitch black spider legs spread out from his back starting from the spine. He winced in pain, it’d been a long time since he last transformed. A pair of sharp mandibles poked out from the corners of his mouth; four slits opened up underneath his cheeks in pairs, each containing a solid black eye with a hint of purple.

“Aaaahhhh!!!” Suddenly, Virgil screamed lightly in pain as the transformation came to end with his new set of fangs and claws growing to a point. Janus caught him as he slumped over, huffing from exhaustion. Weakly, he looked up to Patton trying his best to smile.

Patton was mortified as he watched Virgil writhe in pain in his hand. When it all finally came to an end he was looking eyes wide at a big black spider...fuck! His heart was racing as he tried to not physically throw his boyfriend into the pond. Wait! That’s right this was his little sweetie, his Stormcloud, Prince of Darkness, etc. There was no need to be so scared...he gulped as he reached down to stroke his loves face.

Oh! He was still so soft and honestly his spider legs kind of tickled. The fear in his heart dissolved instantly. Patton giggled at how nervous he was only moments ago as he pressed them both to his cheek. “So I’m not alone after all.”

God, Virgil was instantly healed by his Sweetpea’s warmth. He hugged into the green flesh happily. “Of course not Patton, we’ll both always be here for you!”

“I’m so happy right now! You two are the best boyfriends in the whole wide world!!!”

Patton slid into the pond once more as he laid on his back. He kissed his cuties to his plush lips and then placed them right on top of his chest as he floated along the water. All the while they laughed and smiled at their giant lovers' touch.

“This new form is scary, but at long as I have you two I think I’ll be okay.”

“We love you Patton and we’ll always love you no matter what you are.”

The couple laid on Pat’s chest as tiny frogs hopped up from the lily pads to play with them as they enjoyed their time together. All content in knowing that each of them had a little cute monster inside of them that made them special.

[artzychic27]

An akuma with reality powers, The Artist Family and the canon Art kids (maybe the other classmates too) meet each other

Their reaction? Chaos?

Another day, another Akuma for the Malevolent Miraculous team

This one is named Alterna, and they’re a scientist who got Akumatized because their alternate universe theory was rejected

They have the power to open portals to other dimensions

While fighting, Alterna grabbed Black Widower’s whip and used it to ensnare the team before flinging them into a portal

Once they land, they find themselves... In Paris? Only, something feels off, very off...

Since there doesn’t seem to be any danger, they detransform

They look around while getting weird looks from people. (Imagine the ‘Going into town’ scene form the Addams Family 2019 movie)

Nathaniel Artist: Everyone’s dressed so... Conformist. *Sees a magazine with Adrien on the cover* And what happened to Adrien’s new look?

Rose Artist: Is this one of the universes where his dad is a jerk?

Alix Artist scares off a few people by throwing a brick through a few car windows.

Marc Artist: Alix, don’t be rude. Let the others have their turns.

Manon approaches Marinette Artist and asks why she’s wearing dark colors

Marinette Artist: Manon, you know I despise all colors.

A few more minutes of walking, and they see Marinette Dupain-Cheng running to school

Marinette Artist: *Checks her watch* School has begun three minutes ago. She’s not very punctual, is she?

The Artist Family follow her to the alternate DuPont to see what’s going on, then they bump into Mme. Bustier, who was making her way to the teachers lounge.

Mme. Bustier: Marinette? But I just... I saw you, all of you in the classroom. And Marc, shouldn’t you also be in class?

The Artists rush to their respective classrooms and find their alternate sleeves, much to their shock

Nathaniel Kurtzberg: ... What the fuck?!

Nathaniel Artist: I could ask the same about your outfit. Must you insult my eyes with such a color combination?

Chloé: Ha! You just got burned by yourself, tomato head!

Marinette Artist: At least he doesn’t go out looking like a clown gave him a makeover.

Chloé: I’m telling daddy!

Marinette Artist: Yes, let your father get involved with petty teenage drama. That will get him more votes in the upcoming election. Now silence.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: ... Thank you, me?

They explain what happened, (Leaving out the part about them being superheroes because this universe’s Lila will no doubt run her big mouth to Hawkmoth who they’re sure she’s working for), and the art club is not sure how to react

Alix Kudbel: So we’re basically the Addams Family?

Lila: Oh! You know, my great great grandfather actually inspired Chauncey Addams to create the Addams Family!

While the class eats it up, the art club and Artists just glare at her

Marinette Addams: It’s Charles Addams, idiot.

Lila: Oh, you guys hate me too? *Cue bitch crying*

Juleka Artist: *Waves a skull in front of Lila* Luxor, nexor, burst and burn!

Lila: What’s she doing?

Juleka Artist: Just a curse that will make your pants burst into flames every time you lie.

Lili: *Whining* Why are you all trying to hurt me?! I never lie! *Her pants bursts into flames and she runs out of the school before she’s left in only her underwear*

Alya: *To her Marinette* My sincerest apologies.

Suddenly, screams are heard, followed by Mme. Mendelive and her students running past the classroom. Marc Anciel and Artist walk into the classroom while being trailed by a clutter of spiders

Marc Artist: Well that was quite rude, wouldn’t you say?

Marc Anciel: In their defense, spiders are a little... Horripilante.

Nathaniel Artist just stands there, trying very hard not to kiss the alternate version of his boyfriend and wondering why his alternate self isn’t going kissing his Marc madly with passion

The Artists explain to the Art Club during lunch about their situation and tell them that they’re Miraculous holders in their world, much to Marinette’s shock since she’s never heard of the Malevolent Miraculous

The art club let their alternate selves stay with them until they can figure out a way to get back, but Nathaniel and Marc Artist insist that they stay together

Alix Kudbel and Artist volunteer to let them stay with them. (Cuz they ship ‘em!)

Marinette A is stunned to see her alternate parents, and when they welcome her with open arms since her own parents were always so distant.

Even when she shows her dark nature, they still treat her like family. She tries very hard not to show any emotion

When they’re alone, Tikki and Screech reveal themselves. Tikki explains that there are alternate realities with different Kwamis with similar powers to the Kwamis they’ve alternate versions of. Screech is her alternate self

Marinette A questions why Marinette DC’s Ladybug suit is so skintight and insists that she change her suit which Marinette DC doesn’t mind doing

Marinette A tells Marinette DC about her boyfriend, Damian, confusing DC a bit. What about Adrien?

Marinette A: Adrien wasn’t able to satisfy my needs. Yes, he’s quite attractive, but I needed someone who could keep up with me, worship me, be my love servant and follow me into the underworld.

Marinette DC: ... So who’s this Damian?

Nathaniel K insists that Nathaniel A spend some time away from his Marc so they can talk without them making out every five minutes

Nathaniel A: How is it that you have not gouged out your own eyes?! Your Marc is miles away from you, and you believe you have the right to live?!

Nathaniel K: ... We call each other.

Nathaniel K is starting to regret letting his alternate self live with him since he keeps starting fires! He had to hide all of the matches and anything flammable. And if that’s not bad, Chompp keep chewing on his sketchbooks

Once all of the fire causes were hidden, they bonded over their love for painting and sketching

Nathaniel K: So, your paintings are actually cursed?

Nathaniel A: Very much. One caused the mayor to stumble down the stairs and stay in intensive care.

Nathaniel K: *Thinking of all the ways he could torture Chloé and Lila with his art* ... Teach me.

Marc Anciel is trying not to scream every time one of Marc Artist’s spiders crawl on him, not wanting to seem rude

Marc Anciel: *Shudders* Oh, and that’s a black widow in my hair.

Marc Artist: They’re my favorite. It’s why I chose the name Black Widower.

To release some of the tension, Marc Anciel suggests they read each other’s writing... He will not be sleeping for a while after reading Marc’s Artist’s stories. He asks why his alternate self wrote eulogies for his Nathaniel

Marc Artist: I want others to know of the love we shared together before he’s put to rest. And who better to write my love’s eulogy than the one who knows him best? The one who has loved him, tangoed with him, stabbed his heart.

Marc Andiel ignores the last part and actually considers writing Nathaniel’s eulogy.

Alix K and Alix A are having an awesome time together

Alix A and Duuo throw grenades which Alix K dodges while skating until Alim tells them to do this away from the museum

They outrun the police, prank Kim by putting itching powder in the pool, and watch their Marcs and Nathaniels make out

It’s all fun and well until Alix A meets this universe’ Jalil. Her Jalil sold her out since there was a reward to turn her in, forcing her to run from the authorities and she’s never forgiven him

Jalil K assures her that he’d never do that and reminds her that family always comes first. Alix A is resisting the urge to cry and instead lights a firecracker in his jacket

Juleka A CANNOT stop staring at her alternate self’s Luka. She can actually see his face and body. And he can talk!

Luka: Hey, are Marinette and I a... Thing where you’re from?

Juleka A: She has two hands. Soon to be three when she takes Damian’s in marriage when they’re of age.

Juleka C and A bond over their love for the macabre and witch culture. She even teaches her a few spells to use against Chloé and Lila if she ever shows her face again

They work! Chloé broke out into a terrible rash, and all of Lila’s pants are on fire

Rabbid also may or may not have chewed up the rest of Lila’s clothes, forcing her to spend all of her money on new clothes

Rose A tries to get used to her alternate self’s love of bright colors and Disney movies, but it’s a struggle. So, she exposes her to the darker side of Disney.

Rose L is horrified but also a little excited.

They do a dark Disney marathon and watch all of the movies Disney tried to hide from audiences.

Rose A even changes up Rose L’s look so she looks like a badass punk Princess, which gives Juleka C a slight nosebleed

Rose L is still her bubbly self, but now also has a love for the darker things in life

The Artists stay in this universe for three more days, starting another goth trend in the alternate Paris by giving Adrien a makeover, introducing Marinette to Damian via pen pal program, teaching Nathaniel and Juleka how to curse their enemies, setting Lila’s clothes on fire a couple more times, introducing Marc to a more gothic style of or writing & Rose to a punk style of clothing, and teaching Alix all of the stunts she’s never even thought of doing that involve explosives

They also have a little fun with Nino and help him pursue his dream of traumatizing Gabriel Agreste

This involves chloroform, a coffin, and a walkee talkee. Gabriel is forced to listen to Nino’s voice for 12 whole hours, telling him to be a better dad to Adrien, fire Lila, and to give him $1000 dollars

Gabriel gives Adrien more freedom, fires Lila and burns all of the magazines with her face and name in them, and gives Nino $1000 dollars. Then he passes out

Nino: *Hugging the Artists* I... I love you guys so much. I don’t ever want you to leave. You have made me the happiest man alive!

Then Alterna shows up

Nino: NO! DON’T TAKE THEM! TAKE GABRIEL!

Adrien: Hey!

Nino: I’m just kidding... Not.

The Artists and Marinette transform. The Malevolent Miraculous team are shocked to see Chat Noir but are even more shocked when they immediately recognize him as Adrien

They’re able to defeat the Akuma even though Lila (Who’s being a brat because she got fired) keeps interfering by whining about her broken leg, this time in a skirt. (Loophole) And she keeps trying to snatch their Miraculous whenever she gets close to them

Jaws: *Uses power to make his teeth sharper* Keep crying and I’ll give you a real broken leg. *Lila shuts up and lets them work*

They defeat Alterna, and Ladybug and Nocturna use the Miracle/Malevolent cure to remove all of the portals opened by the Akuma and put people back in their respective dimensions

They start to disappear and head back to their dimension as the Bats and Ladybugs swarm around them

Nino: NO! TAKE ME WITH YOU! *They disappear* DAMNIT!

Alya: You have them. *Points to the Art Club*

Nino: Can they murder Gabriel or frame him for a crime?

Juleka: We can try. There’s six of us, one of him. Nathaniel and I now know how to curse people.

Nino: I’m in!

Alya: And while you go ruin Gabriel’s life, I’m gonna go kill Lila.

Back in the Artist’s Dimension!

Juleka Artist: Are we back? Is this our dimension?

Nino: Oh, thank God you’re back! Gabriel was starting to gain consciousness again and Adrien is becoming suspicious. I think he knows I’m keeping him in my basement.

Marinette Artist: *Sighs* Yep. This is our place.

[cloudyempress]

Storge || K. Muzan + Upper moons

✦ Fluff, comedy, manga spoilers, child!reader, reader is Muzan's daughter. 

- This was originally published in wattpad.

Storge (noun); familial love, the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.

                                   •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

They called you Little Misfortune. Spending time with you was a nightmare worse than disagreeing with Muzan. Your seven year old self could only think of their faces as a canvas to use the paint your father regularly buys you. A few minutes babysitting you was the equivalent of being in rainbow land and hell at the same time. And if you had a single, microscopic scratch at the end of the day, they would suffer severe consequences.

Kokushibo hated how much you'd tug his hair and make fun of his eyes, along with your hideous loudness. Hantengu ran away from you when he realized how deadly adorable you could be, forcing him to become tiny so you could put him inside your dollhouse. Gyokko had to put up with you breaking his pots and making disgusting faces whenever you saw him, also having to praise your artwork even if he disliked it. Gyutaro found you incredibly annoying, but loves when you disagree with him being ugly and laughs when you prank Daki. Talking about her, she's the upper moon that hates you the most since you gained all the attention from Muzan and you generally bothered her. Akaza was the nicest out of them, so you'd crawl onto his arms whenever you were scared or feeling tired. Finally, Douma loved you, finding it funny when you blushed at how cute he was or how much you adored playing with him.

Being born a demon, which was a extremely rare case (specially being born from a human and having a lot of human features like aging), you had gained your demon blood art early. This meant more trouble for the Upper moons, you could make them lose control over their arts and breaths (in the case of Kokushibo and other demon slayers).

It was a chaos when you first used it. Hantengu's turn of babysitting you turned into you getting lost in the Dimensional Infinity Fortress, Nakime not being able to know where you were and the rooms moving and shifting randomly. Once Muzan found out, he rushed the other upper moons into an emergency meeting.

"Why are you so incompetent? First the lower moons, and now you as well? Can't you just guard a fucking child?"

Everyone was in complete silence. They knew better than to mess with Muzan when he got angry about something happening to his dear daughter.

"I'm going to say this once. Find (Name) before I disband you. Now."

Not wasting time in saying 'yes', they all left to find you. As the fort was chaos, most of them got smashed into a wall or pushed to the ground. Luckily, Kokushibo had enough instinct to avoid those, quickly finding you eating a giant jar of your favorite ice cream with lots of oreos and sprinkles. You were stuffing your face with it and humming songs, until you noticed that his towering figure was standing next to you, his accusatory six eyes piercing through your soul. You stopped everything you were doing, standing up and taking a defensive pose.

"Come, (Name). Muzan-sama is..."

Before he could continue, you took out pieces of a flute from your dress' pocket and waved them in the air high enough for him to see. Kokushibo frowned in anger and confusion, wondering how you got your hands on his brother's flute, which he usually keeps on him.

"No! I won't give in to a hairy spider like you! I used to have nightmares about you, but now I am not scared!"

"Spiders have eight eyes, (Name)."

But you didn't listen, sticking out your tongue and throwing the pieces in the air, running away the second he shifted his gaze to them instead of you.

The fort was filled with your giggles, sounding like a music only two people liked but the others had to endure it. They just didn't stop until you found Gyokko's freshly painted pots, his colors begging you to smash them into the ground. You climbed the table and shoved them to the edges, then began jumping to see if they would fall or resist the vibrations of your weight against the table. They didn't, falling into the floor and becoming tiny pieces of what they once were.

"DAMN CHILD! HOW DARE YOU DESTROY THE GREAT GYOKKO'S ART?"

"Oops!" you turned around with a cheeky grin adorning your face.

Gyokko launched at you, gritting his teeth.

"I did you a favor! Now you'll have to throw them out in the trash, were they belong"

Before his hands could reach you, a wall as fast as lightning hit him so hard he ended up in another room altogether. You shrugged and kept running around.

Meanwhile, Gyutaro and Daki walked together, both complaining about the situation. He mainly listened to her whine while she rambled on how pointless looking for you was.

"Can't somebody shut up that horrying child laughter?" she screamed at the ceiling.

Gyutaro crossed his arms, he lacked the energy to explain to her how an annoying child worked. He knew it too well from taking care of her.

"I don't get why Muzan-sama wants her when he has me." Daki spread her hand in front of her face and started counting with her fingers. "I'm gorgeous, strong, loyal... and I'm not an stupid, loud-as-fuck child!"

"Ume" Gyutaro called, as the both of them kept walking straight.

"She's a pain! She takes all of Muzan-sama's precious time away."

"Ume" he stopped walking, Daki kept her pace as she was fixated on finding things to hate you for.

"She couldn't even speak properly when we first met her. All she does is cause trouble for us, that's why nobody likes her!"

"Ume!"

She turned around to face him, a vein popping out of her forehead.

"What?!"

"At least I'm not as stupid as you, miss whore! Daddy told me you were annoying yesterday."

All her hairs perked up when she heard your voice. She turned around to find you a few meters away from her, a bit shocked from hearing you insult her that way.

"Who taught you that word?" she placed her hand above her chest, surprise evident in her expression.

"I did" Gyutaro said, a smirk appearing in his face. He waved at you ignoring his sister's terrifying anger. "Hi there, little misfortune. Everybody's looking for you"

"You're not going to stop me?"

He shrugged, going back to his usual annoyed expression.

"Not me, but my sister is"

Daki jumped at you, almost not giving you time to react properly. You spit the gum you were chewing to put it on her hair. Her eyes widened in horror as she tried to take it off, letting you off her hands.

"Fuck you, (Name)! Come back here you damn brat!"

Gyutaro helped Daki take off the gum, you running away from them. The last thing you heard as you escaped was Gyutaro offering to cut off the damaged part of her beautiful long hair.

Your legs were short and you got tired of running after a few minutes. You collapsed on the ground to take in some air.

"Oh~ Are you tired, (Name)-chan?" Douma's playful tone made your eyes shine at the realization that he was there.

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. You were not only exhausted, but also feeling guilty of accidentally stepping on tiny Hantengu on your way there. It wasn't your fault he was terrified of your childishness and Muzan's rage, but you didn't notice he was in the way and stepped on him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for causing all of this! Is just that Hantengu didn't want to play with me and I felt lonely! I don't want to be alone! Now everyone hates me!"

"Shhh... It's ok. You're an adorable little princess, nobody hates you."

He ruffled your hair as your teary eyes stare at his rainbow colored ones. They were both beautiful and calming for you, those colors made you think pretty things when you were sad.

"You don't hate me?"

"Of course I don't!"

"Then, will you marry me when I grow up?"

He chuckled, ruffling your hair again. Your cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

"Yes, su—"

Half of his head was suddenly cut off by a hand. You frown at Akaza, who seemed very angry at seeing Douma that close to you. Douma's head regenerated fast, his charismatic smile never leaving his features.

"Why are you proposing her marriage?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. What the hell is your problem? I'm not going to let you put strange ideas into her innocent mind."

Akaza opened his arms at you so you could climb into him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

"Little misfortune was feeling lonely and hated, so I simply made her feel happier. Now let me hold her" Douma tried to take you to him, but Akaza's grip on you was stronger.

"You try to make her feel happier by proposing? Also, you only eat women, why would I let you near (Name)?"

"Well, she's not human!"

"Can I marry you too?" you ask above the discussion, your voice silencing the both of them. You pulled away a little bit from Akaza's hold to look at him in the eye. "When I grow up, can I marry you too?"

Akaza's concerned look grew bigger by the second. Douma had an amused expression, holding in laugher. Akaza's gaze shifted from Douma to you, not knowing what to say. His face told a different story than you had intended. You leaped away from them, tears floading down your face again.

"Then I'll be alone my entire life!"

You started escaping again, covering your face with your hands. The upper moons attempted to use their arts to get you back, but failed as yours contradicted their use.

Douma sighed, then turned towards Akaza with a smile from ear to ear.

"You're not a great liar, are you?"

After running around all day, your energy was so low that you could barely walk without dragging your feet. Loneliness was the strongest and most shocking feeling you'd gotten in the seven years you had been alive. No mother, no siblings, only a father who'd mostly be working and babysitters who hated your guts. Facing the ground, lips curved downwards, you clearly weren't expecting crashing with something. Or more accurately, someone's legs.

It was Muzan, his stern expression changing into a softer one when he saw your defeated state. He opened his arms to engulf you into a hug, so you jumped at him with the strength you had left.

"I'm sorry, I felt lonely!"

"Why is that? You always have an upper moon to take care of you" he walked towards your room as he caressed your hair.

"But they hate me!"

"They don't hate you. Kokushibo's always worried about your health and safety. Gyokko and Hantengu try to enhance your talents in art since they know how much you love it. Gyutaro likes to make you laugh, and while Daki acts as if she hates you, she sew you a stuffed animal for your birthday by herself knowing that other stores didn't buy the plush you wanted. Douma plays with you all the time, of course he loves you. And Akaza is always there to keep him from crossing the line. They don't hate you, they are your family." he tucked you in your bed, a smile reaching his lips before you closed your eyes in order to sleep.

He leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

"As I love you too."

                                 •❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you’re so creepy | part ii | knj ver

Every campus has one. You know - the resident campus creepy girl. This campus has seven. All from in the boys’ POV.

summary: Forgetting a kiss that tasted like blood is pretty difficult. Just ask Kim Namjoon. He kissed the creepy punk-rock girl behind the fine arts building. 

warnings: non-idol!BTS - university!BTS; spying (lol); fluff; 18+ for language, Namjoon’s POV

--

part i

-

Namjoon saw her quite often after that strange encounter. She was always around the music department, in the practice rooms. With his focus on song-writing and production of rap and pop music, they didn’t exactly interact, but he just couldn’t ignore her presence. He kept his eye on the creepy girl as she walked in the hallways, carrying her guitar case. Her drumsticks stuck out of her back pocket. They were painted black with white tips, probably from the paint chipping off. She seemed to wear variations of the same black hoodie, sometimes printed with strange graphics and sometimes ripped as if she was attacked by a vicious bear.

She would probably win that fight, he thought.

He began to the notice the way people interacted around her, walking out of her way, deliberately looking away when she came near, clear signs of ostracization and alienation. She acted like people didn’t exist. He was surprised people acted this way even in this day and age. The whisperers were worse. He noticed a few girls hushing themselves as she walked past and then turning back to talk about her.

“I heard she plays with a band on the weekends. All guys.”

“I bet she fucked them all. She’s probably diseased.”

“See all that eyeliner? Probably trying to hide a black eye or something.”

“She’s so ugly. That’s why she needs to hide behind all that makeup.”

It bothered him. He wanted to say something. He tried to go up to her once in the hallway but she saw him and sneered, slipping into the women’s bathroom to avoid him.

That’s why Namjoon was standing outside the practice room she was in. She was in the back of the room, on the drum set. The room was soundproof but the door had a window and he could hear the drums and cymbals through the glass. He was transfixed by the way she played, wild and shaking her head from side to side, ponytail whipping in the air. She was barely even looking at the drums and yet she kept tight time – he could hear the rhythm. She was wearing headphones and he wondered what she was listening to.

She was just so… into it. It was mesmerizing. Beautiful even. It was like she was free, unconstrained by the thoughts of others and playing with all her heart and passion. It was so palpable he could feel the beat in his own heart. He didn’t want to look away.

The sound stopped suddenly and she stared straight at him.

He yelped and threw himself away from the door, ducking down. He didn’t know why he had such a visceral reaction. He wasn’t a nervous person by nature. But there was something about her piercing gaze that made it seem like he was doing something wrong, witnessing something personal. His heart rattled in his ribcage. The door opened and he jumped back.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, the headphones on her shoulders.

“Uh… nothing!” He stood up straight, smoothing his denim jacket and white t-shirt. “Nothing, I just… Just wanted to talk to you but you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. She shoved her hands in her black hoodie and tucked her tongue in her cheek. Her lips were painted dark red. He looked away, confused by why he was fixated on that detail. There was something on her hoodie, a hand-drawn red bleeding goat head with spider-like legs surrounding it. It made no sense to him.

“Did you draw that?” He pointed to the graphic.

She looked down at it and laughed. “No. A fashion student who goes here drew it for me.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his head, not sure what to say next. She stared at him, looking bored and annoyed all at once. “Has anyone attacked you since that day?”

“Wouldn’t you know since you’re watching me all the time?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “I don’t–”

She chuckled darkly and shook her head. “I might not talk to people, but I’m not blind.” She cocked her chin at him, a poised sneer on her lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure of standing in the presence of our king Kim Namjoon?”

He grimaced. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a king.”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows you’re crazy talented and ridiculously smart. Good-looking. Could be president. Prime minister. Maybe low-key a king. You’re seriously telling me you don’t pay attention to what people are saying about you?”

“Well… no?” He furrowed his brow. “No, I haven’t heard any of those things.”

“Huh.” She shrugged. “You’re kind of oblivious. I guess it goes along with your clumsiness.”

He frowned. “Anyway, you shouldn’t fight with people.”

She smirked. “Worried for their safety? So sweet.”

“No, yours.”

He saw the hardness in her eyes falter. They stared at each other, trying to read the other.

“Why did you kiss me that day?”

She shrugged. “I saw a chance and took it. I said you were good-looking. Besides, were you going to leave me alone if I didn’t do something to shock you?” she added with a small smile.

He rubbed the back of his head. He hadn’t expected that answer. A strange feeling fluttered in his stomach. He had never seen her smile like this before. She seemed amused. It was… nice.

“Well, I guess I failed since you haven’t actually left me alone,” she said quickly with another shrug. “Anyway, don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll try not to bash anyone’s head in… on purpose.”

“On purpose?”

She looked up at the ceiling and whistled. “Accidents happen sometimes.” He gave her a stern look and she laughed. It was such a pretty laugh. “Okay, okay. I don’t know why you care so much.”

“Of course, I care.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, yeah, you care about everybody because you’re a good guy. Gross.” She turned and was about to walk back into the practice room but his hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, spinning her around. Those little strands of hair that she left out of her ponytail fluttered in the air, framing her lined eyes. There was pain in those eyes. Loneliness. And a wildness untamed, alluring in its own way.

He kissed her.

It didn’t taste like blood this time but it invaded his senses all the same.

--

masterpost

[iron--spider]

my favorite superhero

Tony sits there, cuffed to a chair in whatever the hell facility this is, and he stews. He doesn’t enjoy being kidnapped—his ego always takes a hard hit when he allows it to happen, and now that the end of the world has come and gone, he figured this kind of shit would fall off.

 But he stews, particularly angry, because this one is personal.

 Justin Hammer paces back and forth in front of him. He’s a little weightier than he was when Tony last saw him, sporting a patchy, uneven beard and what looks like a borrowed suit. Still an asshole.

 “Haven’t I been through enough?” Tony asks, twisting his hands in the cuffs behind his back. The iron arm is just not strong enough to break whatever the hell these are made of, and he’s angry because Justin thought ahead. When does Hammer think ahead, ever? 

 “Honestly,” Tony continues. “I’ve got kids now, you’ve gotta stop stalking me. I lost my arm saving the fucking world—apparently whatever the hell repercussions of all that got you out of prison, surely through no lawful avenues, so you’re welcome, by the way.”

 “Thank you very much, Mr. Stark,” Hammer says, pointing over at him. 

 “No, you know what, you’re not welcome. I take it back.”

 “You can’t take it back, you said it,” Hammer says, crossing his arms over his chest and holding his head high.

Tony sighs and looks away. There’s what looks like a kind of forcefield around where he’s sitting, and he sighs even harder. The room isn’t too large, with a vaulted ceiling, and Hammer’s situated himself on the platform in front of what looks like a couple empty offices. He prances back and forth above the few stairs that lead down to where Tony is, so he can stay above him.

 “You know, I’m really proud of this,” Hammer says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “This whole thing, right? So I snag you, and then we set off that bomb threat over in Midtown, so all your other super buddies fly over there and just think you’re slacking on the job when you don’t show up. Because you’re still handling the lower level shit like that, I know what you’re doing. I even think that Strange guy is over there, so they’re all there and they’re probably all judging you for not helping.”

 “Cute,” Tony says, bitter.

 “And this place is state of the fucking art, Anthony, like this could be the Queen’s bunker, and I’ve got all the buddies that left the Raft with me protecting the perimeter—chiseled, rugged guys just—ready to beat the shit out of everybody—”

 “Nice, the guys that left the Raft with you, like you’re on vacation—”

 “AND we’ve got you in vibranium handcuffs, you’re welcome, your pal in Wakanda’s gonna be real pissed when he realizes how far into the villain layer his shit has gotten—”

 Tony looks at him, brows furrowed. “Villain layer? Layer—layer of villains? Is that what you were trying to say? And you’re including yourself there? Or like, lair of villains, like their lair where they keep their stuff—but that doesn’t really work—”

 “No, just, shut up,” Hammer says. “Forget it. But that—yeah, vibranium handcuffs, so you’re not getting out any time soon even with your shiny new arm. And that forcefield is brand new Hammer tech, even if your buddies did fly over here once they’re done with their nice little distraction, they’re not smart enough to take down the encryptions, not even Banner, I checked into his degrees and what he studied and covered all my bases.”

 Tony’s bitterness is mutating into something else, something more bitter and why the shit can’t this asshole leave him alone? 

 “Congratulations,” he says. “Today marks the first day in history that you weren’t a complete dumbass.”

 “Thank you, thank you very much,” Hammer says, bending over in a deep bow, hands whipping with a flourish. “I thought about every variable, every avenue, now we just need Miss Pepper Wifey to answer my calls and—”

 Tony experiences a flash of anger at that, and then a high pitched tone starts going off in his ears, and now he feels like a dumbass. 

 Peter. Was with Pepper. 

 Peter.

 Like a shining light in the darkness and someone Hammer has clearly not paid attention to despite all his fucking planning, because he would have mentioned it amongst all the other bragging. Spider-Man isn’t an official Avenger yet to the world, just among the group. And Peter would never think Tony is slacking. Because Peter just doesn’t think that way. 

 Tony’s heart warms, because even though there’s no indication, he knows Peter is coming to get him.

 “You know what?” Tony asks, looking up at Hammer again and interrupting whatever dumb shit he was saying. “I was wrong. You’re still a dumbass.”

 Hammer stares at him. “What? No I’m not. Why? But I’m not.”

 “You are,” Tony says, glancing away. “I’m not telling you why.”

 “Oh Jesus, Tony, c’mon,” Hammer says, waltzing down the couple of stairs from the platform he was standing on, like the supreme idiot he is. “You’re such a—”

 He stops, abruptly, and pulls out a small tablet from his pocket. His eyes narrow.

 Here we go. Let’s go Spider-Man. 

 It’s faster than Tony could have imagined, and he looks on eagerly. “Oh, what’s that? What’s going on? A little hiccup, maybe?”

 “Gotta be some kind of bullshit,” Hammer says. “Super friends are all at the coordinates I set them up at, my guys checked, my guys—oh my God, Raul.”

 “Oh my God, is Raul okay?” Tony asks, flexing his fingers a bit behind his back. “Where’s Raul, is Raul here? Is something wrong—is Raul sick?”

 Hammer glances up at him but he’s shaking more now, and his pacing gets more panicky and stilted. He holds the tablet with one hand and taps on some kind of ear com with the other, and Tony shifts back in his chair a bit, relaxing. 

 “Jason, Jason, can you hear me? Are you there? Buddy, the whole reason I gave you this earpiece is so you can report when I need you to report—”

 He gasps, dramatically, and looks up at Tony.

 “Not good?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows. “Not good news? Did they go on dinner break early? So hard to find good help these days.”

 “Do you know somebody else?” Hammer asks. “I thought the Avengers were very exclusive, I thought you didn’t chat with all the other ragtag Times Square assholes.”

 Tony leans forward and stares at him just as all these red, fiery lights start going off on the ceiling, and Hammer looks up and around, dropping the tablet and letting it shatter. Tony catches a glimpse of it now that he can see the screen, and he watches as guard after guard goes from green to red.

 He looks back up at Hammer and grins, full of pride. “You don’t know shit about me if you don’t know who my favorite superhero is.”

 And with that, the door behind Hammer opens and the lights snap out, only leaving the soft purple glow of the force field around Tony amongst inky darkness. His heart leaps when he hears a gun go off, three times with angry ricochet, and then he hears Hammer shrieking like a little girl, followed by the unmistakable sound of Peter’s webs and a body falling to the floor.

 Tony sits there in darkness and silence for a long moment.

 “Uh, Spidey?” Tony asks, blinking in the purple glow. “Where are you, bud? You okay?”

 The lights click back on and he sees Peter kneeling on the ground, checking Hammer’s pulse. 

 “Oh thank God. You okay?” Tony asks again. “He didn’t shoot you, right? The asshole.”

 “No, he didn’t shoot me,” Peter says. He pulls off his mask and stuffs it in his belt, looking up at Tony with a grimace. “He just, like. Passed out. I didn’t even punch him. I was gonna hit him, like, to knock him out, but he was already passed out and I didn’t even use impact webs, Tony.”

 Tony snorts. “It’s fine, that’s just how he is.” He grins at Peter. “Thanks for coming, kid.”

 “Duh,” Peter says, approaching him.

 “I’m sure he’s got a computer around here or something, so you can disable the forcefield—”

 “Yeah, I already did that,” Peter says, walking right through it, and Tony watches, mouth agape. “For some reason he had a stealth mode, and I was able to mirror that and it put it on standby for twenty minutes.”

 Tony nods. “Alright, shit, that’s great, okay, plenty of time to figure out the handcuffs, find a key or something—”

 Peter walks around behind him and kneels down. “He was stupid enough to alter them and add a code and a second latch.” 

 Tony feels him do something, and then the handcuffs drop off, like nothing. He laughs, feeling a little lightheaded, and he gets up, turning around to face the kid.

 He feels completely and utterly in awe of him. He always knew Peter would surpass him, but he has with such grace and candor and it’s—amazing.

 Peter puffs out his chest and points down. “One day, I’m gonna be able to break vibranium with my own strength, and then I’ll tell King T’Challa—”

 Tony nearly launches himself at him, wrapping him up in a hug. He ruffles Peter’s hair and pats him on the back, sighing and holding him close. “I’m very proud of you. Very very. Really very.”

 “Oh,” Peter says, holding onto him. “Really?”

 “Shit, of course,” Tony laughs, wondering if he doesn’t say it enough or if that’s just Peter, always doubting himself. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Go on.”

 “No, I’m—I was done. I’m just—I’m just gonna tell him.”

 Tony hugs him for a couple more long moments before letting go, pulling back and gripping his shoulders in continued appreciation of what he’s done here. “You’re the best, you know that? Better than Cap or Bruce. Better than all of them. Number one.”

 “Nah,” Peter says, but he’s grinning. 

 “That idiot,” Tony says, pointing over at Hammer, encased in webbing, “is one of my worst enemies.”

 Peter narrows his eyes. “Really?”

 Tony lets his arms drop. “Well. Definitely the most irritating.”

 Peter laughs. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Don’t get mad, but I took one of the quinjets to come get you. But Friday flew the whole way so it’s technically like, not that bad.”

 Tony scoffs as they head for the way Peter came in, the red lights still flashing and indicating the absolute fucking wreck Spider-Man left Hammer’s facility in. “Kid, that quinjet? It’s yours now, I’m gifting it to you.”

 “Don’t say things you’ll take back later,” Peter says, leading him through the corridor, where a bunch of guys are webbed to the walls—some squirming, some still.

 “Nope,” Tony says, patting him on the back again. “I will not be taking that back.”

 “Okay,” Peter says, eyes wide with excitement as he grabs for his mask. “Then I would also like an Iron Man suit.”

 Tony scoffs and turns right when Peter does. “Okay, that—that we can negotiate.”

[vegalocity]

Since you said you're gonna rewrite Min Yi's story, think you can share what your original idea for it before the finally? - Pixel Anon

So the reason i had to drop this storyline was mostly because i straight up didn't expect Season 2 to completely DEMOLISH the status quo quite like that. which goes to show that i underestimated this writing lol

Here i was assuming this show was doing a sort of 'building a rogues gallery' thing but they were telling a proper epic just in a mostly episodic format.

so like, y'all ever read those 'child detective' chapter books? the ones where the kids take on mysteries that are generally inconsequential or low stakes and they get their 'business' mostly through the fact that the mysteries in question are usually too small for the police to want to bother with?

That was how i planned Minyi's story to start off. That since her end goal was finding her daddy she needed to get really good at finding lost things first. She would generally use these mysteries and the more 'overt' ways of looking for her dad (missing flyers hung up on light poles with stickers because auntie won't let her use the stapler) to memorize the layout of streets she was previously unfamiliar with, learning to track to find someone's missing pet rabbit (Rest in peace Mr. Fluffers) learning to network from a kid who claimed his limited edition trading cards were stolen (Teacher confiscated them without telling)

eventually she 'interviews' a coworker who told her that her papa was going to be looking over the upgrades to the power grid below the city before he disappeared, but that's grownup work lil one the police have already looked down there.

Well clearly the police haven't looked hard enough!

So she uses arts and crafts to her advantage. Makes some slime with glow in the dark glue and fills a bag of water balloons with it to mark off her turns so she doesn't get lost.

She only gets one trip in before the city underground leaves her with nightmares and she can't go in there alone again. But she HAS to, because her daddy is lost down there and he NEEDS HER TO FIND HIM!

Cue a small child walking into Pigsy's Noodles with a coin purse full of all the yuan she could find and dumping them onto the counter like 'Yes hello i am a very grownup young lady and I would like one bowl of noodles please ò__ó' and then proceeds to eat said bowl as slowly as possible. Clearly waiting for something.

MK comes in back from a delivery and she instantly is up and running over with the rest of the money in her lil coin purse like 'Are you the Monkie Kid? I need your help! I can pay! I need you to escort me through the underground so i can find my missing daddy! ò__ó'

MK is very quick to assure her he'll do it for free of course and then there's schenanigans probably not spider-related, Minyi probably getting them out of some pinch with one of her lil baby macguyver tools (slime balloons it would have been the slime balloons)

They end with MK asking for one of her missing flyers and assuring her that if he sees anything she'll be the first person he calls. (of course he doesn't recognize the lost person on the missing flyer looks familiar until his next run in with the spider clan for that drawn out aspect) And it's like one of those 'contextualizing the antagonist' things, think like, how in Adventure Time, Finn started reaching out to Ice King when he found out about his past as Simon Petrikov. Suddenly Syntax is more than just the Nerd Spider, he had a life he was taken from, and yet worse, a child out there missing him, so naturally MK's gonna wanna do something about that.

So next encounter with Syntax happens, MK's got him on the ropes, but now he knows whats going on. So he tries to get a bit of info out of him, just to see what was going on, and Syntax his poor brain fucked up by spider venom of course denies even the idea of having kids, and in fact states he has no concrete memories of ever a time before being 'taken in' by the Spider Queen.

And then this is a thing i wanted to do that was a homage to a sci fi thriller from like 2003 i'm fond of (it's called 'The Forgotten') where MK basically goes all 'Look, I'll let you take off and this will be a stalemate if you do one thing' His price being 'Just Say her name. It's Minyi.'

So he does

and nothing happens. No flashbulb, no sudden fit as his body starts trying to reject the spider venom flowing through him again, no reaction at all. So MK lets him go, and pretty easily decides not to tell Minyi about her dad.

And, once out of the area, Syntax finds himself wondering just what the Monkie Boy was expecting to happen. Just saying a child's name? What kind of test was that? He must have had him confused with someone else.

But he is a scientist, and maybe he's a little curious about it himself, so maybe he tries again, this time alone.

And this time, without any extra eyes on him, without that instinctual performative blockade that had been keeping him alive around the others-

This time it hits him.

It hits him like a fucking semi truck

Eventually Minyi does find her way to the lair or at least near enough she sets off a proximity alert or two, but right when i was considering how that would play out canon knocked on my door and kicked my teeth in so there ya go

[thetiredbiwrites]

And then...

Dad!Tony x Son!Reader

(mentions of Uncle Rhodey)

Anon: // hello can you do angsty tony x Son reader. Tony and reader has strained relationship and they we're not in good terms, Tony prefer Peter than his son but it got change when both of them got kidnapped, they been together for a few days and slowly they reconciled. Soon they got save by the avengers but the Son Reader notice that one kidnapper pulled a weapon to Tony then R save his father, he got shot then Tony is scared to see his son dying. Its up to you the ending. ☺

A/N: Thank you for the Tony request 🤗🤗 Hope this is ok! (I love dad!Tony, I think he’d be so good...even though this fic is on a different note🤔😂)

Warnings: Cliff hanger end. It was getting pretty long and I wanted to upload something before bed (which also means it hasn’t been checked but oh well, I’ll re-read it tomorrow) BUT I do plan on doing a part 2 :)

(Also swearing, just always assume swearing)

Words: 3100+

Tony’s relationship with his son had always been strained. Ever since he was practically dumped on his doorstep at 4 years old.

Tony had no prior knowledge that he has a kid, none of the women he’s been with had ever even told him they were pregnant. But if he was being honest with himself, it didn’t surprise him. With the way he got around it was bound to happen eventually.

He just wished he’d known from the beginning.

Having a 4 year old left in his care with no warning put him in a whole new territory he was completely unprepared for.

A baby gives you time to prepare and are essentially a ‘blank slate’ at birth. A 4 year old has experiences, like and dislikes, routines, a connection to someone who abandons them with a stranger…

At the time, Tony was still a playboy, out at events and travelling a lot. As well as CEO of a company manufacturing weapons for the military. He didn’t have time for a child. To break through recently arisen trust and abandonment issues and build a relationship.

He cared about his son. Always made sure he had everything he needed or wanted, a good education and was in good health. But forming personal, emotional connections can’t be done with money, and Tony could barley cope with his own true emotions.

It quickly became clear that they did not share talents or interest in maths, sciences or mechanics. His son struggled especially with maths and Tony initially really did try to help, finally thinking something was in his element and he could bond.

But elementary (followed by middle and high) maths was so simple and automatic for Tony’s brain that he found it difficult to slow down and explain the process to the young boy.

He hired a tutor in his place.

That’s not to say Tony expected or needed his son to be a genius in the same subjects as him. He didn’t need his son to follow him (or his father) to be worthy of his time. But it would have made it easier.

Instead, his son excelled in English and arts, and was amazing in the kitchen. He loved to write stories, create pictures to accompany them and experimenting with new recipes.

Unfortunately, Tony did not excel in these areas, thus distancing them further.

At least he wasn’t taking after his father though. He didn’t force his son into one path or degrade him. No forcing him to grow up, giving him alcohol at a ridiculously young age or sending him away to be completely alone.

Tony often wondered himself if he’d have taken the path he did if his father hadn’t pushed him. If he’d be the same person without the verbal abuse and constant neglect of his father.

He wasn’t blind to his emotional distance and lack of bond to his son. Or to the connection the boy had to both Rhodey and Pepper. He could see that his son was connect to the two people he trusted the most and he was glad.

When Rhodey was available, being in the air force meant he wasn’t always around, he made sure to take the boy out, go to school events and even read his stories, giving feedback and support.

Pepper made herself available if he ever needed to talk and was always willing to taste test.

Even Happy was around to take him where he needed to go, training in the gym and joke with.

So even if the young boy didn’t have a relationship with his father, he had adults around to support and love him and help him through life.

It didn’t stop him wishing he did have a relationship to his father though.

 While MIA in Afghanistan, Tony realised he wanted to try harder to build a relationship to his nearly teenaged son.

It didn’t happen.

He returned home and completely changed his company, which required a lot of time. His guilt also led in him to putting on that damn suit and trying to save the world.

And then he nearly died from palladium poisoning.

And then New York was attacked by aliens and the avengers were formed.

And then Tony had PTSD; anxiety, panic attacks and nightmares.

And then ‘terrorists’ blew up their house and nearly killed Happy and Pepper.

And then murderous robots.

And then the avengers broke up.

And then Tony worked with the UN to amend the accords and set up more help and cleaning crews. Back to lots of travelling.

And then…

And then… Peter.

It never eased up and his son turned 18.

His son made excuses over the years. He genuinely was busy and obviously struggled with relationships. Maybe he’s just not paternal? You can’t blame someone for trying to save lives either.

Of course he was aware it isn’t all on Tony, he could have tried harder to bond with his father as well.

But then Peter came along.

Scientifically and mathematically gifted Peter.

Superhero Peter.

Enthusiastic, smart and funny 15 year old Peter.

And then Tony had the time.

He made the time.

For Peter.

To talk to him. Help with his homework and superheroing.

Teaching him. Training him.

They spent a lot of time in the workshop and lab.

Tony was always so interested in what Peter had to say. Whether is was about science or mechanics, school, spider-man or even teenage romance.

It came so easily and naturally to Tony.

He had the time.

Even the team had noticed this relationship and dubbed them ‘Iron-Dad and Spider-Son’.

That hurt.

The time he overheard Clint comment, ‘why couldn’t we have had dad-Tony this whole time?’ really stung.

Tony’s been a dad, to a son, the entire time he’s known the avengers.

He didn’t hate Peter though. It’s not his fault and he’s actually perfectly nice. But to see his father so easily bond with another kid in a short time made him realise that he’d never get that father-son relationship.

Tony is paternal. Just not for him.

--

His eyes fluttered open, the ground cold against his face.

Wait, ground? What-

A groan passed his lips as he sat up, pressing a hand to the side of his head where pain radiated.

He blinked the fuzziness from his eyes, trying to remember how he got there, but the last thing he could recall was leaving the Stark Industries event after supporting Pepper.

The room was dull and very basic. With stone walls and floor, no windows, one dim light and two metal framed beds so rusty they would probably break under his weight.

As he glanced back down to the ground, he noticed another body in the room. They were still slumped on the ground and back to him.

Scrambling across the floor, he pushed on the mans shoulder to lay in on his back and see his face.

Dad?

Quickly he checked for a pulse and when he was satisfied with the regular thumping, he moved away, letting out a sigh of relief.

With his back to the wall, arms resting on his bent knees, he waited.

It was only a short while later when Tony began to wake. Groaning and sitting up in the same manner his son had moments earlier.

“Oh God, what the hell-where am I?” He mumbled, clearly unaware he wasn’t alone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer”

Tony’s head snapped over at the grumbled voice to see his son.

“Y/N. What- what are you doing here?”

“hell if I know. Can’t imagine why anyone would take me. I generally don’t piss people off and I’m neither an Avenger or a tech genius.”

“Maybe they mistook you for me” Tony joke, completely oblivious to his sons disinterested and cold tone.

He shuffled back to lean against the opposite wall as his son scoffed.

“Sorry kid, you got the Stark looks.”

“Yeah, that’s all I got” the young man mumbled, leaning his head back on the wall, closing his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Silence fell between them until the door opened.

The two men rose to their feet as two armed guards entered the room, a third following with a tray of unappealing food and bottled water.

Neither Stark was acknowledged as the tray was placed on one of the beds and they turned to leave. They even ignored Tony’s incessant questioning and cocky attitude.

His son stayed silent, taking on of the bottles as he sat back on the floor, still not ready to trust the beds.

“Could they just answer a simple question? They got to have a fucking reason for this.”

“Whatever it is I wish they’d just hurry up with it.”

“What, are you bored? Got places to be?” Tony asked, before taking his seat back on the floor.

“Yes, actually. I have an interview Monday and I’m not ready.”

“An interview? What for?”

“Like you actually care.”

“Hey, that’s not-“ Tony began to object but his son looked over at him and cut him off.

“Unless it’s about Peter or Superhero shit, you don’t want to know. You haven’t magically become interested, you just don’t like the silence and unfortunately I’m the only one here. You never cared about what was actually happening in my life before, why start now?”

Tony stared at his son in shock. It’s hard to make The Tony Stark speechless, but right now he had no words at all.

As his son dropped his head back to the wall, looking away from him, Tony couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

Thoughts ran through his head as he examined his son, becoming aware of how little he really did know.

-When did he get so tall? Not tall-tall though, definitely the Stark gene at work there.

-That suit makes him look so grown up, even if those a-holes took our jackets and shoes. Why did they take our shoes? No. Not important. Focus.

-I care about my son. Come on Tony, think. Something.

-School? Crap, when did I last even read a report card? He’s always aced English. Didn’t he do band? No, shit, that was Peter. Goddamnit, is he right?

“You’re 18.”

“Well done. You want a medal?”

“Is the interview for college?”

His son still didn’t move, wouldn’t even look at him.

“Please, Y/N. I-I know I’ve not really been… present in your life. But I do care about you.”

“Do you?” His eyes burned long repressed anger and Tony prepared himself for everything that was coming. He knew he’d deserve it too.

“You gave up so easily. It was too hard to bond with your idiot son, a shy kid who couldn’t understand simple maths. You’d rather be with women and go to parties, and the company always came first. All you did was throw money at things. For year I was fine with it, you using money to help me. I had more than more. It was clear you struggled with relationships of any kind and I was just dumped on you with no warning. It was fine because I had Rhodey, Pepper and Happy. They were there to talk to, they taught me things and supported me, Rhodey would go to school events whenever he could. I just figured maybe you’re not a paternal person. Then you became Iron Man and started saving the world and I can’t be mad about that.”

Tony stayed silent and watched as his son stood up, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace.

“Then you met Harley and kept in touch with him. You upgraded his garage into a high-tech lab. But he did help you save Pepper and the President so I guess you owed him and I didn’t let it bother me. It wasn’t until Peter came along that I noticed that you are one of the most naturally paternal people I know. You became his father figure, took him in so quickly, bonding immediately. If he needed help, you were there. He wanted to talk, you listened. Whether it’s out being Iron Man and Spider-man, training him, helping him with his school work or just locking yourselves in the workshop for hours building new shit. You’re always there for him. He witters on about some stupid crush for 25 minutes and you hang on every word. But you couldn’t do that for me?! What, did I need to be a genius at maths?! Interested in building extravagant technology?! Would you have noticed me then? You know, you went to Peter’s science show last month but you’ve never been to any of my school events. It was always Rhodey, Pepper and Happy a couple times, or no-one. But never you.”

The young man stared at his father, chest heaving, eyes burning as he held back tears. Yet Tony said nothing. He couldn’t take his eyes off his son. Lips parted and eyes glistening with unshed tears, he just sat, no words coming out.

“Yeah I’m 18 any yeah it’s a college interview. I graduate in a few weeks, Rhodey’s going. I’ve already been accepted to a couple colleges. Only a few months and I can leave.”

He didn’t give Tony a chance to respond as he risked the bed, laying down and facing the wall as he focused on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Behind him, his father watched on as tears fell down his face, guilt taking over his whole being.

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night. While his son eventually fell asleep, Tony stayed on the floor, thinking through everything his son told him and looking back over the years.

The following morning, two guard came in and took Tony away.

They brought him back a few hours later, unharmed. The younger Stark watched as Tony worried his bottom lip and fussed with his clothes. He noted the troubled look on his father’s face and it was clear that whatever the kidnappers told him wasn’t good at all.

But he remained silent.

Eventually Tony settled, sitting on the floor again. But the two still didn’t speak for a few more hours.

“I’m sorry,” Tony finally broke through the silence and tense atmosphere of the confined space.

His son remained silent but his eyes moved up to look at him. This was enough of an acknowledgement that he was listening and so Tony continued.

“You might not believe that, but I am. I don’t know why it was so hard or why it was so easy with Peter. I didn’t- It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t even realise.”

The young Stark kept his eyes on his father but his face stayed blank and lips sealed.

“And you know, just because maths and science subjects didn’t come naturally to you doesn’t mean you’re an idiot. I’ve never once thought you were. I know the Stark name has become so tied to them, mechanics, advanced technology and engineering… but it doesn’t mean you’re not…good enough? Because you don’t follow that. I never thought you should have been, it didn’t-didn’t disappoint me or anything. But you were always so talented in arts, you wrote the most amazing stories and a complete natural in the kitchen. Things I’m not so great at. It just made it harder for me to figure out how to connect. I didn’t know where to start.”

A small smile flashed across his face, eyes glazed as he recalled the past.

“Y’know, I loved those stories about the uh, the dragons that live on your shoulder. I’d find drawings and paintings of them all over the house, and it was a big house!”

Across from him, his son’s head raised a little higher, eyebrows subtly furrowing and looked at the soft expression on his father’s face. He had no idea Tony even know about those.

“I should have been there, tried harder. There’s no excuse for that. But I have always cared. You were just so talented in things I didn’t understand. Then I saw how close you and Rhodey became and-“

Tony let out a sigh, looking away from his son.

“You were left with me, an egotistical ass and a- a playboy. I didn’t think I deserved you. You deserved someone better. Someone emotionally available and mature. Someone to help you grow into an amazing person and progress your talents. Someone like Rhodey. He deserved you and you him. He was -and is- better for you. You were loved and supported by him, and then Pepper and Happy, so I – I thought you’d be ok. That you wouldn’t need me.”

Once again it was all quiet in the small room. This time Tony wouldn’t look at his son, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his father.

“I did need you.”

His voice was raspy as he admitted this to not only Tony but himself.

“Rhodey’s the best. I love him. Couldn’t have asked for a better Uncle. But that’s what he is; my Uncle. You were supposed to be my Dad. I shouldn’t have had a father figure when my father was right there. You were so cool, before and after becoming Iron Man. You made everything around you seem like fun. I didn’t understand the tech crap but- I’m an artist. I can, and did, design things. It’s not all on you, I didn’t make it easy.”

“You were a kid, it is on me. But, maybe- When we get out of here I’ll do better. I want to be an active part in your life. I also understand if it’s too late though.”

“It’s not. It’ll take time but, I’d like that. Rhodey might get jealous though.”

A huffed laugh slipped past Tony’s lips as they spread into a smile on his face when his son cracked a grin.

They continued to talk into the night, about school, which colleges and courses, friends and dating. Once they started they couldn’t stop.

It is hard to shut up a Stark.

They were laughing about one of Tony’s stories of his time in MIT with Rhodey when an explosion shook the room.

The men stood up and faced the door as the sounds of fighting and yelling grew nearer. A smirk spread on Tony’s face as he recognised the noises of his teammates.

It wasn’t long before the door was broken down and Captain America stood in it’s place.

“Bout damn time. Did you stop for coffee?”

“Yeah, yeah, tin man. You’re welcome.” Hawkeye quipped as they walked down the halls.

Rhodey broke through to get to his nephew’s side, checking him over and ensuring he was ok.

Tony led the group to the main room. The kidnappers had access to files and tech that would be too dangerous to leave.

As Tony wiped everything, quips flowing between him and his teammates, none of them noticed the man sneak in through another door.

The younger Stark moved before his brain could even process what was happening, placing himself between his father and the gun that was raised to his back.

*bang*

[sweetchup]

Of Blood and Bruises

Anon asks: You’re writing is super underrated may I request Feitan x artist who draws dark themes please make it a lemon if you’re feeling scandalous :)

Anon asks: I’m in love with your writing! Could you do another NSFW scenario with Fei when he loses control? Thank you!!

Type: Feitan x reader

Au?: None

Word count: 3,000+

Warnings: Angst, Blood/gore, Mature Content, Lime, NSFW, Abuse, Psychotic/Sociopath reader, slight yandere?

Author Note: I decided to combine two asks into one scenario because they fit really well together. I hope you two like it and thanks for all the compliments. I get really happy when I read them!! ❤️❤️

“Though Little Spider, I truly believe that there is a Nen Curse on the Bloody Jewel of the East. It’s the only plausible answer.”

You look away from your sketchbook to look down at Chrollo who had laid his head on your lap, his eyes closed as he talks. What were you going to do with this man?

“Chrollo I’m pretty sure the reason it’s called the Bloody Jewel is because it’s a big red jewel found after 100 men in the mines got crushed to death by an explosion Accident. I don’t think a dynamite getting set off counts as any sort of Nen curse.” You say, causing the man on your lap to snort. You shake your head and go back to sketching. You had really taken inspiration from the recent Budo Knives that you guys had stolen, and you were trying to capture the essence of the destructiveness they caused to the human body when used. The blood splatter, the guts and the gore, always amazed you like it was some sort of wonderful form of art. So you sketch it, framing your memories and love for death into time itself.

“I’m starting to think you should take up my spot as leader. What do you say, (y/n)?”

“Yeah, and let you be the heart? No way Boss, sorry.” You hear Chrollo and some of the other members chuckle. Looking away from Chrollo you look at the members who had laughed. “I’m serious. Come on. Imagine if the boss had my job. We be all dead before we could say ‘Spider Shish Kabob’”

This causes all of the members to break out into a fit of laughter, even causing you to crack and laugh. As you all begin to calm down, wiping the tears from your eyes, you notice something. We’re missing someone.

“Hey. Where’s Feitan?” No one responds but you feel the room get tense. You had just now realized you haven’t seen the sadistic short man all day. You should probably go check up on him.

Pulling Chrollo lightly off your lap, you jump down onto the bottom floor of the cobblestone abandoned church you guys were hiding out in. If you remember correctly, Feitan took the 3rd room on the left side halfway. You go to walk down there but a giant hand grabs onto you. Blinking, you turn to look at Franklin who had stopped you.

“I wouldn’t suggest that, (y/n). Let’s just leave Feitan alone.” Franklin says, using his other hand to pat your head, “How about you just join Shalnark, Uvo, Phinks and I in a game of cards?”

“But, why…Why can’t I check up on Feitan? Is he torturing someone again? You know I don’t get bothered by that stuff.”

Franklin goes to rebut but Uvo lets out a laugh and cuts him off. “Don’t try Franklin. It’s pointless when (y/n) wants to go do her job.”

Uvogin takes a sip of his beer before looking serious at you. “I wouldn’t suggest it though, squirt. Shalnark and Phinks decided to really just annoy the shit out of Feitan today. So he’s not… in the best state of mind right now, kiddo.”

You sigh and glare at Shalnark and Phinks who freeze up under your gaze. “You two hadn’t learned your lesson from last time didn’t you. Well, that doesn’t change things because I’m still going to check up on him.”

“(Y/n)—“

“Franklin. It’s my job. You guys are the legs, Chrollo is the head and I’m the heart. It’s my job to make sure everything is running smoothly within the Troope and during missions. I can’t have any bad blood going on with the members before we go out on a mission.”

Franklin and you stare each other down for a couple of minutes before the larger man removes his hand. He lets out a sigh clearly not happy with letting you go. “Fine. But, you better call us if anything happens. I don’t trust Feitan right now.”

You giggle and hit Franklin on the arm. “Of course but I doubt anything will happen.”

Franklin stares as he watches you walk away. He just can’t understand why you do your job. After all you just—

“Franklin! Come on we are about to start.” Franklin sighs at Shalnark’s call and just decides to leave the thought alone for now.

————🕸—☠️—🕸————

“What? Is that all you can do short ass—“ The man chokes out another scream as Feitan peels off another fingernail. Feitan was not amused by the man and honestly, he wasn’t calming down, he was just getting more pissed off. This man had a sharp tongue just like Shalnark and Phinks. Maybe he should cut theirs out next time when the boss or (y/n) isn’t looking. “Fuck.. you… you gay bi—“

Feitan had enough of the man and decided to just snap his neck, it’s easier that way and maybe with some quiet he could calm down. Feitan takes a deep breath, his fingers shaking in rage. He needs to calm down, he’s usually not like this and if he can’t he’ll snap.

“Fei?” You stick your head through the door. All you can see under the light of candles is the back of Feitan who is looking at a dead man on the table in front of him. You wait a couple of seconds but you get no response so you walk in. You come closer and closer until you're standing next to Feitan. You don’t look at the black haired man and instead, grab the hand of the dead man in front of you. “Wow. I always wondered how you could be so good at peeling fingernails. You always do it so clean and precise. You should teach me one time.”

You two then sit in silence for a while after you speak. You take a shaky breath. Feitan is usually quiet but he’s never been this silent around you before.

“Hey Fei… I don’t know what happened but—“

When you put a light hand on Feitan's shoulder, all hell breaks loose. One second, you're standing next to him and the next you're being pressed up against the wall. You go to yell out but Feitan quickly shuts you up by fiercely kissing you. Crap, you should’ve listened to Franklin. Now, you're stuck in a bad situation, like you always are.

Feitan pulls away from your mouth with a light string of saliva still connecting you two. You look into the man’s eyes and just see pure sadistic darkest enveloping them. Just from looking at it you know. You know that Feitan has completely lost himself.

“Fei—“ “Shut up.” Feitan grabs the roots of your hair and pulls it back, hard. You let a whine out at the painful feeling before letting out a small moan as Feitan moves to your neck. Feitan starts with harsh bruising kisses and sucks on your neck and shoulder. You gulp, slightly scared, as he sucks particularly hard on a spot right where your windpipe is. You hear the man chuckle at your gulp, amused by your reaction.

You definitely shouldn’t have given a reaction because now he was given harsh vampire hickeys and blood drawing bites on important parts of your neck and shoulders. Including the important carotid arteries that are needed to deliver blood to your brain and head. This definitely wasn’t good, it was very dangerous what Feitan is attempting. But, at the same time, you didn’t know what to do in this situation, you’ve been in bad situations but not like this. Technically if you allowed Feitan to do what he wanted, it could calm him down and a possible later on situation with another member could be avoided. You just weren't sure if it was the right call when he’s like this. He could honestly kill you right now without a single thought if he wanted to.

You are startled out of your raising thoughts as you hear a popping noise. Blushing, you watch helplessly as Feitan bursts open your shirt, the buttons flying off as he does so. “Feitan—“

You can’t get a word out again as your head is slammed against the wall with Feitan’s hand at your throat. You shiver as you meet Feitan’s gaze with teary eyes, slightly scared as you feel a little of his bloodlust leak out. As you are about to feel as if your heart was going to actually burst out of your chest and run away, Feitan looks away, focusing on undressing the rest of you.

You would let out a sigh of relief at that but can’t. Afterall, you felt as if you were literally being hanged.

Due to Feitan being strong, he could and was holding you off the ground, with the tips of your feet hardly scraping the cobblestone. It also didn’t help that he was ever so often squeezing a little bit more forcefully down on your neck, making the next breath you take after he unsqueezes feel like hot coal traveling down your throat. It was honestly a heart stopping feeling, it was something so scary that you have never felt before. Not even back in the hell place of Meteor City. Fuck, your mind was screaming at you to do something as you felt your sense of sight loosing itself. You were actually going to die or, at the very least, pass out from lack of oxygen.

As if you God suddenly heard your call, though according to Chrollo there isn’t one, Feitan let’s you go and you fall to your knees in a fit of coughing. It has never been so amazing to you to feel the sweet amazing life force called air flow through you.

Though that is very short lived as you feel a hand grab and tug your hair. You look towards the direction you're being pulled and blush as you come face to face with Feitan’s cock. Gulping, you look up at the man who glares down at you. He had a firm grip on your hair so you knew there was no use in running away now.

Pulling a shaky hand up you grab onto the pulsing shaft and take a couple of slow pumps. As you do so you hear Feitan hiss and grip onto your hair tighter. At least he’s very sensitive so this should hopefully go quickly. You lean your face in and give small kitten licks from the bottom of the shaft all the up to the tip. As you finally make it up to the top, you give the blushing tip a kiss as a little precum leaks out of it. You gulp as you feel the substance make contact with your tongue, it was an interesting taste that sent a shiver up your spine.

Now comes the hard part. You’ve never ever given anyone head or a blowjob before so you are going to have to somehow figure this out, and fast too unless you want Feitan to get mad. Opening your mouth you wrap your lips around Feitan’s tip, careful to make sure your teeth don’t rub against his shaft.

Clenching your eyes shut and trying to focus not on gaging, you take Feitan inch by inch into your mouth until your nose is right against his pubic hair. Your eyes and throat stings, you definitely know you can’t take Feitan in this far yet so you’ll have to use your hands for part of the blowjob. As you go to pull away you feel Feitan clutch onto your hair tighter.

You quickly look up worried at the man as you still have his full length in his mouth. Feitan smirks down at you and, as if he wants you to suffer, he starts to make short thrust into your mouth, keeping your head still as he does so.

Tears start to roll down your cheeks as your throat begins to convulse erratically around his length. Your throat absolutely burned as you continuously gagged at each thrust and you honestly felt as if you wanted to puke. You were definitely already not ready to give a blowjob after getting strangled, little less a face fuck.

You place your hands on his thighs, clawing at them, trying to get Feitan to stop or at the very least slow down. Though the pain you give him as you claw into him only makes him go faster.

“Fuck…” Feitan chuckles as he looks down at you. “Your throat is literally spazzing around me. Can’t take it, can you (y/n)?”

You look up at Feitan and looking at him through blurry eyes, you beg him to stop. Though as you go to make some sort of sound, it only causes vibration and it makes Feitan thrusts move erratically and unrhythmically.

“F-Fuck. You stupid slut, trying to make me— fuck.”

Feitan gives a last couple of messy thrusts before burying his whole length in your mouth. He lets out a groan and a couple of swears as he finally releases and his cum starts squirting out in strands, painting your throat and mouth white. All you can do is try to swallow as much as you can, trying not to choke on the thick white substance.

Feitan lets out a sigh as he finally pulls out of your mouth, allowing a few last white strands to paint your face. As he lets your head go you, exhausted, lean against the wall trying to stabilize yourself. So much hurt, from your jaw to your throat and even some of the bites on your chest. Nothing felt right.

You flinch as you feel something touch your cheek. Opening your eyes, you see Feitan with his hand now away. As you look into his eye, you can see he had finally calmed down and had snapped out of his trance.

Feitan feels as if he’s been stung as you flinch because of him. Though, he can’t blame you, he had lost control of himself and totally blacked out. He just can’t believe what he did to you. You are all bruised and bloody, and dirty with his cum streamed on your face. He clenches his fist as he feels his eyes start to burn. You are the heart, the little spider of the group. You help the troupe members even if not asked. You make sure they’ve eaten, taken showers, you bandage their wounds, and even taken care of them when they get sick. You are the one that actually cares if they make it back from a mission or not. Feitan remembers as if it was yesterday how hard you cried and mourned when the previous number 4 and 8 hadn’t come back.

“F-feitan.” You say shakily, reaching a hand up as you see a tear roll down the man’s face. As you are about to touch him, he slaps your hand away and backs up.

“Don’t comfort me. D-don’t.”

“But-t, feitan I—“

“Don’t (y/n). I don’t deserve it. You know that—“ Feitan is cut off as you grab onto him. Clutching him to you in a hug. Feitan scurries to try to pull you off, “(y/n)! Let go! Are you fucking insane?! Look at yourself, look at what I’ve done to you. You’re our little spider and I hurt you!! I’m a monst—“

Feitan is cut off yet again as he feels a sting. You, you just slapped him. You just slapped the torturer of the phantom troupe. Feitan finally looks at you again and he sees you looking serious at him. “You idiot. Don’t call yourself a monster. This is the first time you’ve ever hurt me. And you didn’t mean it, right? Then to me that means you are forgiven.”

“W-what?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Feitan puts his head down and lets out a soft laugh. He just can’t believe what he heard. “What…what the fuck is wrong with you? How can you forgive me so easily. Are you fucking stupid or something?”

You put a finger to your chin and think. “Hmmm… I think so. Remember the time Phinks chucked me into a car by accident when he got mad.”

“I’m not fucking talking about that—“

“Feitan. Stop.”

Feitan glares at you as you massage your fingers through his hair. “You know this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten hurt. Like I said before Phinks has chucked me into a car before when he got mad. Uvogin was so close to paralyzing me once. Hell, even Machi sewed my lips closed once. It comes with the territory. Because…”

You place your forehead on Feitan’s and he sighs, not wanting to say what he knows is true. “You're the heart... It’s your job to make sure everything is running smoothly within the Troope and during missions. Even…

Feitan’s throat chokes up and he can’t make himself finish. You place a small kiss on his forehead and finish for him. “Even, if it means I get hurt. I’m the toughest muscle in the body so I can take the burden off of the legs and the head.”

Feitan is silent for a moment. He stares blankly into your eyes, just wondering why. Why do your eyes still spark when you look at him after what he had just done to you? What the others have done to you… Why do you still stay around? Just why—

“Feitan.” The man snaps out of it. He watches as you stand up to pull out your sketchbook that you had dropped when he attacked. As soon as you have it in your hand, you pat your lap as you sit down, “tell me what happened. I heard Shalnark and Phinks caused something.”

The man, unemotionally, plops his head down on your lap. It was wrong, he knew everything was wrong with the current structure of how the troupe was set up. But, he knew, it was pretty much a fact, that they couldn’t live without you and the way you just make their life so much brighter and better.

Feitan just lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. No matter how much bruises and blood you receive. No matter how much trauma you face. No matter how much you just want to quit. The heart has to pump on.

… Because without it…the Spider will die.

[wokeuptired]

every perfect summer

Finn is steady on her own two feet but Niall is a hurricane, determined to bring to the surface what she’s long buried. If only he weren’t so beautiful at sunset, she might be able to resist. 

written for​ @majorharry ‘s 20k fic celebration 

prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that.”

niall/ofc, 6.2k

Summer in California is hot and sticky, the kind of sticky that makes you feel silly showering, because as soon as you walk outside, you’ll be sweaty all over again. Even with the fan on full blast, Finn’s thighs are sticking to the leather of the couch she took from her mom’s house when she moved out. She’s read the same page a hundred times, over and over again. The heat makes it hard to think. 

The heat makes it hard to breathe.

And mostly, the heat makes it hard to write.

Finn’s about to put the book down when she hears footsteps on the stairs outside. Her apartment complex is a series of buildings each containing a dozen apartments. Finn shares the landing of her staircase with the apartment next door, but it’s the wrong time of day for Cindy and Ralph to be returning home, which means—

“Your new downstairs neighbor is hot,” Jocelyn announces as the apartment door slams shut behind her, the gust of warm air ruffling the pages of Finn’s book. She looks up to roll her eyes.

“You think every guy is hot.”

Jocelyn dumps her shopping on the kitchen table and scoffs. “I do not. Just the hot ones.”

“Aren’t you engaged?” Finn glances down at the big shiny ring on Jocelyn’s finger to emphasize her point. Even though Jocelyn moved out six months ago, when her boyfriend popped the question, sometimes it feels like she never left. Right now is one of those times. “What’s Marcus think about all this looking you do?” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Jocelyn punctuates her statement with a saucy flip of her hair and begins unloading her bags onto the small kitchen counter. She holds up a carton of ice cream. “Should I bother putting this away, or do you want to dive in right now?” 

Finn holds her hand out for the rocky road. “You know me so well.” 

“You’re welcome.” As Finn digs into the tub of ice cream, Jocelyn begins putting things away in the fridge. “You know,” she says into the veggie drawer, “I’m not kidding about your new neighbor. He’s got this angelic frat boy look to him. Have you met him yet?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Last week. He offered to carry a package upstairs for me. Very polite, and totally not my type.” 

“Exactly.” Jocelyn sits on the couch with another spoon and slides the ice cream out of Finn’s grasp. “As your older sister, it’s my job to advise you on everything. Starting with your interest in men, which is, to be frank, utter shit.” 

Finn opens her mouth to object, but she can’t find fault with Jocelyn’s statement. Her last boyfriend wouldn’t come to any work events with her but insisted she attend all of his art shows. He had an ego the size of the Milky Way to make up for his abysmal lack of talent.

“You need to stop dating those neurotic, artsy types,” Jocelyn continues, “and date a man who can, like, actually kill a spider.”

“I’m perfectly capable of killing my own spiders.” As long as they’re small and not moving, but Finn doesn’t feel the need to share that caveat. 

“So am I,” Jocelyn says. “Do you want wine?” She doesn’t wait for Finn to answer before she gets up and goes straight for the cupboard that holds the long-stem glasses. “Anyway, that’s not my point. You need to stop dating boys who look good on paper and start dating men who are good. In real life.” 

Finn closes her book so that it doesn’t have to listen to this conversation. She accepts the wine glass from Jocelyn’s outstretched hand and swirls around the liquid within. It doesn’t go with the ice cream, but she’s 25 years old, so that doesn’t matter.

Jocelyn scowls at the closed book. “Virginia Woolf again, Finn? Are you ever going to read anything written in this century?”

Finn rolls her eyes. If there’s one thing her sister excels at, it’s being unsatisfied with all aspects of Finn’s life. “Are you here just to criticize me? Or are we watching ‘The Bachelor’?”

Jocelyn grins, spoon still in her mouth. “Oh, we’re watching ‘The Bachelor.’” 

-----

The thing about “The Bachelor,” Finn decides that night as she’s brushing her teeth, is that, for the women involved, the ones competing for the bachelor’s heart, there are no consequences. 

Oh, small consequences, sure. Your decision might make somebody else cry, or your heart might be slightly bruised, but at the end of it all, you’ve got thousands of new Instagram followers and you’re famous in your small town and everybody wants to date you, even though you chose, of your own free will, to engage in the skeptical that is a dating game show. 

But there are no big consequences, no bad consequences. A few months later and the next season’s airing, and everything you did, every dumb thing you said, every kiss you exchanged—it’s all forgotten. 

Maybe that’s the way to go, Finn thinks. 

Maybe next year, she ought to audition. She develops the pitch in her head: 25 year old ghostwriter of bestselling romance novels; lives alone in Los Angeles; has been considering, for an entire year, the adoption of a cat; has never been in love. 

It’s that last part that would sway them, she thinks. The producers would imagine her doe-eyed and innocent, maybe a bit naive. She’d be pitted against the season’s villain, the girl with dark hair (a visual contrast to Finn’s blond bob) who would stop at nothing to win her man. 

“How can she write romance novels when she has never known love?” audiences across America would wonder. 

Perhaps the bachelor himself would even inquire. Finn would smile shyly, bat her impossibly long eyelashes up at him, and say something coy like, “You could tutor me.” 

Jocelyn would love that. She lives for the drama, for what the editors create in post-production. She doesn’t care that it’s fake.

And every week Finn watches and wonders how she can keep selling love in her books when this show proves, without a doubt, that it doesn’t exist.

-----

The new downstairs neighbor works out in the mornings on his patio. Finn hears his music the next morning, drifting in through her open sliding door, around 8:30 AM. It’s not early enough for her to be justifiably annoyed at him, but she’s annoyed nonetheless, because she’s just sat down at her laptop with the intention of writing something today.

Something. Anything. Words on the page, that’s all she needs. 

Instead, she sighs, closing her laptop and crossing the room to the balcony. She slides the door open further, pushes the screen out of the way, and goes outside. When she and Jocelyn first moved in, the balcony was a huge appeal. “Outdoor space!” they’d squealed when they first saw the apartment listed online. But now Finn’s been here for two and a half years, and the balcony is just another space for dust to collect. 

It’s directly over Downstairs Neighbor’s patio. Finn looks down through the wooden slats and tries to catch a glimpse at him. She can hear Jocelyn’s voice in her head: He’s hot, right? I told you he was hot! 

In truth, though, Finn can’t see much through the small gaps between the planks. She can’t tell if he’s lifting weights or doing jumping jacks or playing a very enthusiastic game of cat’s cradle. He’s definitely grunting, though. 

Finn shakes her head, trying not to focus on the noises he’s making, and crosses the balcony. She leans her arms on the railing and looks out over the beauty of Los Angeles. Beauty referring, of course, to the parking lot. Finn can see her car, about thirty feet away, parked beneath an evil tree that drops red berries. It really needs to be washed. 

Maybe she should take it today. Maybe today will be the first day in a month that she’s gotten dressed in pants that have a zipper and a button, and she’ll go to the carwash and—

Feeling something crawling on her arm, Finn looks down, and oh, shit, it’s a spider. Not a little spider, not a daddy long legs, but one of those ones that’s big enough where you can see its body. It looks like one of those spiders a little kid draws around Halloween. 

Oh, shit. Finn lifts her arm, waving it wildly, trying to shake the spider loose before it bites her and turns her into Spider Woman, and that’s when she throws her mug of coffee into the air. 

“Oh, shit,” she says out loud. Time seems to slow as she watches her mug descend, coffee flying everywhere as the cup turns a full 360 degrees before landing with a crack on the concrete below. 

“What the fuck?” It’s Downstairs Neighbor. 

“Oh, shit,” Finn says again. Which, no doubt, Downstairs Neighbor heard. Oh, shit. That one’s in her head, at least.

She hears a grunt as he, she imagines, lowers his weight to the ground, then the snick of his sliding glass door, then the sound of his front door opening, and then, oh, shit, there he is, standing on the ground, looking at her broken coffee cup. 

Oh, shit, Finn thinks again as she drops to her knees, hiding herself from view. 

Apparently unsuccessfully, as not thirty seconds later, she hears, “I can see you, ya know.” 

Finn rises slowly to her feet and looks down. It’s hard not to admit that Jocelyn was right as she looks down at him, messy hair and blue eyes and muscles visible through his sweaty t-shirt. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” His eyes twinkle, and she knows he’s trying not to laugh at her. “This yours?” 

“Yeah. Sorry I interrupted you.” 

He laughs then, a light, musical sound that she can feel in her toes. Oh, shit. That’s not good. Finn’s characters feel laughter in their toes, but she certainly doesn’t. Feeling someone’s laughter in her toes is not a real thing, she’s always thought, except, apparently, it is.

“What happened?” he asks. 

“There was a spider.”

“A spider.” 

Finn nods, cheeks burning. “It was a big spider.” 

“You gonna come clean it up?” 

Finn nods again. “In a minute.” 

“Okay.” He grins up at her and she blushes back. 

Finn turns around and goes inside, sliding the door shut behind her, and waits, listening for the sounds of Downstairs neighbor reentering his own apartment, shutting the door, locking it. When a minute has passed without any of that, Finn realizes that he must be waiting for her. 

Oh, shit. Finn doesn’t have to be Jocelyn to know that this is not the ideal situation in which one wants to interact with Hot Downstairs Neighbor. But it seems like she doesn’t have a choice, so she slips on the flip flops she keeps by the door and goes downstairs. 

He’s still there, standing in the sunshine, squinting when he smiles. “There you are,” he says. 

“Here I am.” Finn looks down, surveying the damage. The mug has split into several large chunks, and maybe if Finn were better at diy-ing she’d be able to fix it, but as things stand now, it’s destined for the garbage. “Damn, I really liked that mug.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Downstairs Neighbor says, which is such a strange thing to say that Finn startles, turning to stare at him. 

“Thanks?” she says. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Niall.” 

Finn accepts the handshake. “I’m Finn.” 

His hand is warm and a bit clammy, a bit like California in the summer, and her stomach goes topsy-turvy. She yanks her hand back. 

“Nice to meet you,” Niall says. “I guess you’re the neighbor who watches ‘The Bachelor’?” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks, dropping to a squat. She gathers up the pieces of her destroyed mug and doesn’t answer him. How nosy of him, asking her that. But then, she was the one listening to him work out this morning. 

“My sister likes it,” she says. “I’m just along for the ride.” 

“Hey, there’s no shame in liking ‘The Bachelor,’” Niall says, dropping down beside her. They reach for the last piece at the same time, hands brushing. Finn draws hers back, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingertips. “Here.” 

Finn accepts the final shard. “Thanks,” she says. “And I don’t like ‘The Bachelor.’ I think it’s silly.” 

Niall smiles at her again, all teeth and sunshine. “What’s silly about love?”

Finn blinks at him, trying to decide if he’s an idiot or just bad at small talk. Maybe both. “That show is not about love,” she says. “Have you ever seen it?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve heard it through the ceiling.” 

Jesus Christ, Finn thinks again. What a neighbor. She can’t wait to tell Jocelyn about this, to prove to her that Downstairs Neighbor may be hot, but his positive qualities end there. He’s intrusive and nosy and way, way too good looking.

“You can get back to your workout,” she says, standing up straight. He follows, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. “Sorry for bothering you.” 

“Not a bother,” he says. “It was nice to meet you, Finn.” 

“Yep,” she says, offering him a half smile before she turns tail and dashes up the stairs, back to her safe, quiet, Downstairs Neighbor-free apartment. Back to her laptop, and the manuscript due in three months that she hasn’t managed to crack yet. Back to being hot and sweaty inside her apartment, instead of outside. 

“Have a good day!” he calls after her. She doesn’t return the greeting. 

-----

The next morning, a knock on the door wakes Finn up from a dream, the kind of dream that you know as soon as you wake was a good one, but it’s too late, you’ve forgotten it, and you won’t be able to get it back. 

“No,” she mutters, turning over in bed, burrowing into the pillow. “I’m sleeping.” But then the knock sounds again. “Damnit.” 

Finn climbs out of bed and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. 8:27 AM on a Wednesday. An acceptable hour for someone to be knocking on the door, she supposes. Except she was up till 1 o’clock trying to make her messy notes into something resembling an outline that could someday (someday soon, she hopes) be a book. 

The morning person disturbing her sleep knocks again, eliminating the possibility that it’s just UPS dropping off a package. Finn drops her phone on the bed and makes her way down the hall to the living room, where sunlight blares in so sharply it makes her squint. 

“Gah,” she says to herself as she pulls open the door. And then, “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Hot Downstairs Neighbor—Niall, Finn corrects herself—says. “UPS dropped off this package at my door, but I think it’s yours.” 

Finn looks down at the envelope he’s holding out, but the label is blurry. Oh, shit, her glasses. “If you say so,” she says. “I’d have to grab my glasses to know for sure.” 

Niall smiles at her, she thinks, but the details of his face are a bit blurry. “I can wait,” he says. “We should make sure it’s yours.” 

Finn frowns at him for a second—He can read, can’t he? Shouldn’t he know if it’s her name on the label?—before deciding that it’s too early for an argument. “Fine, whatever,” she says, turning around and leaving him in the doorway. 

That’s where she expects him to stay, but when she returns to the door a minute later with her glasses perched on her nose, he’s inside her apartment, poking around the bookshelves on either side of her television. The package he brought over has been discarded on the coffee table. 

Finn ignores him for a second as she picks it up. Yep, it’s definitely hers. It’s a proof of her latest Isobel novel, if she had to guess. But she’s not going to open it now, not with Niall here. 

Niall, who is currently nosing around her living room, looking much too closely at things she’d rather he not see. 

“What are these?” Niall steps closer to the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the spines. “You read romance novels?”

“Not exactly,” Finn says. Which lie should she tell this time? She has a few prepared: “they’re my sister’s” or “my roommate forgot them when she moved out.” Said roommate is said sister, but for the sake of the lie, that wouldn’t matter. But then the truth slips out. “I write them.”

“You write them?” Niall repeats. He pulls one of the books out, Summer’s Dalliance, about two yoga instructors who find love during a training retreat in the Maldives. “You’re Isobel Soleil?”

Finn can tell from the way Niall says Isobel Soleil that he’s heard of her. Who hasn’t heard of her, these days? Her books are in grocery stores and airport shops and on bestseller lists and there’s a series in development with HBO. 

As a ghostwriter, Finn isn’t involved, but she knows the show will help move sales, which means bigger checks, which means maybe, eventually, she can write something she actually cares about.

“Not exactly.” Finn takes the book out of his hand and returns it to its place on the shelf. It’s not as if she’s proud of it. That’s not why she has it out. It’s just a placeholder until she publishes a book she’s actually proud of. “Isobel Soleil isn’t a person. She’s a brand. Her books are written by half a dozen different people. How do you think she can pump them out so quickly?”

“How quickly?” 

“Three or four a year.”

“And you wrote all of these?” Niall’s finger runs along the spines. “How many are there? Ten?”

“Eight,” Finn corrects. Eight cheesy, embarrassing, don’t-let-your-mother-see-you-reading-that novels. “But they’re formulaic and simplistic. They’re not… they’re not good.”

Niall shrugs. “They’re not high literature, you mean. Someone reads them, though, right? And the people who read them enjoy them. So who cares if they’re not high literature, Finn?” 

Finn swallows the sudden lump in her throat. How has Niall managed to get to the quick of things so, well, quick? “I care, I guess. This isn’t what I imagined I’d be doing when I was little, telling people I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.”

“So write something else,” Niall says. 

Finn sighs. She wishes it were that easy. If only she could break out of the mold she’s put herself in and write something else, something that’s not about two people falling in love. If only she could write something she actually believed in.

But she has a contract and a deadline and an agent and an editor on her back, and no choice but to finish this Isobel Soleil novel. 

“Maybe next summer,” she says. 

Niall considers her, nods. “Speaking of this summer,” he says slowly, like he’s thinking about what he’s going to say as he’s saying it, “I have free tickets to LACMA, and I just moved to town so I don’t know a ton of people. Want to go with me?” 

Say yes or no more ice cream, Jocelyn’s voice says in the back of Finn’s mind. 

“Sure,” she says. “But you know my secret”—she gestures to the bookshelves—“so now you have to tell me one of yours. So I know you’re not a serial killer or something.” 

He smiles at her and, damn, he’s good looking. “I’m a lawyer,” he says. “My new job doesn’t start till August, so I’m working remotely with my old firm until then.” 

“That’s not a secret.” Not a secret at all, but a great career for a hero in a romance novel. Finn makes a mental note. 

“Okay,” Niall says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, lifting one hand to his chin, a classic thinking pose. “How about this? I’m not from here.” 

Finn shakes her head. She’d already guessed that from his accent, a soft, lilting Irish one that makes everything he says sound like a poem. “Not a secret either. You get one more try.” 

“One more try!” he says with mock shock. “I’ll make this good, then.”

He thinks and Finn waits, and in the thirty seconds it takes him to come up with a good secret, she wonders what the hell she’s doing, flirting with Hot Downstairs Neighbor in her living room while dressed in her pajamas. Oh, shit, she’s not wearing a bra, is she?

Finn crosses her arms over her chest and considers backing out of this conversation entirely by making something up that will put Niall off and convince him that she’s the worst possible LACMA companion. 

But then he says, “I can’t swim,” and that is distracting enough to make her forget everything else. 

“You can’t swim?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing in southern California?” 

Niall shrugs. His smile makes her insides go wonky. “Maybe you can teach me.” Then he holds out his phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you and we can make plans.” 

She obliges, all the while wondering what exactly she’s gotten herself into. 

-----

LACMA day comes much quicker than Finn anticipates. When she and Niall first made the plans a week ago, Saturday seemed like ages away. There was so much she was going to do between now and then: repot all of her plants, make bread from scratch, work on her manuscript. But instead, she putters around her apartment, typing words here and there, ignoring how bad they are, and not baking bread. 

It’s a waste of a week, and not just because Niall is there, in the back of her mind, the whole time. 

Jocelyn’s excited, of course, for LACMA day, and insists on coming over the night before to help Finn select her outfit. Finn keeps reminding her that it’s summer in Los Angeles, so it’s a thousand degrees out and she will melt no matter what she wears, but Jocelyn doesn’t care.

Which is how Finn ends up knocking on Niall’s door on LACMA day dressed in a romper that’s giving her a wedgie, a purse she never carries slung over her shoulder. Jocelyn even forced her to wear lip gloss. 

“Lip gloss makes you a different person,” Jocelyn said last night on her way out. “I left you three options. Please wear one.” 

“I don’t take advice from the Sweet Valley Twins anymore,” Finn had retorted as she shut the door in Jocelyn’s face. 

But she’s wearing the lip gloss anyway. Her hair has already gotten stuck in it three times, and all she’s done is climb down the stairs. 

She knocks again, half hoping Niall hasn’t changed his mind and half hoping that he has. If he has, she can go back upstairs, put her pajamas on again, and continue to stare at her blank Word document. But then he opens the door.

“Good morning!” His smile is so bright it makes her squint. “Coffee?” 

He holds out a travel mug to her, waiting for her to take it. 

“Good morning,” she says after she takes a sip. The coffee is exactly the right temperature and perfectly sweet, which is almost enough to make her smile. “This is good coffee.” 

“It’s from Ecuador,” Niall says. He steps out onto the welcome mat and closes the apartment door behind him. “Hold this for me?” 

Finn holds his travel mug as he locks the door and turns the knob a couple of times to make sure it’s secure. Then he turns around, his smile lighting up his face. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” she says, though she’s pretty sure she isn’t.

She learns, over the next few hours, that Niall’s energy is nonstop. He talks constantly during their drive to the museum, talks as they park the car, talks as they ride the elevator to the top floor and begin making their way through the galleries. He tells her where he’s from and where he went to school and what his favorite sports teams are. 

And she finds herself talking too. She tells him about her sister and where she went to school and how she got started writing Isobel Soleil novels, and the entire time, she’s taking mental notes about him, about the way he holds doors for her and grins down at her and laughs even when her jokes are barely funny. 

This is how the heroes in her novels behave. They are handsome and well-meaning and have substantial life goals. They are polite and conscientious and make the heroines feel brave and important and valued. And that’s how Finn finds herself feeling: like if she had something to say, Niall would listen to it. 

After the museum, they stop for lunch at a restaurant Finn found on Yelp as they were leaving the parking structure. It’s small and bright inside, but as Niall pulls out Finn’s chair for her, it occurs to her, for the first time, that this might actually be a date. 

Jocelyn had said as much last night, but Finn had ignored her, as she does with most things Jocelyn says. But now, seated across from Niall, with nowhere to look but at him, reality dawns, and it’s blinding. 

But, she decides, she won’t address it, and she carries on with the meal as if they are recent acquaintances and neighbors, which is, she reminds herself, exactly what they are. 

-----

After LACMA day, Niall texts Finn about the movie he’s watching, and she imagines she can hear it through the floor. Later that evening, he texts her good night, and then, the next day, he texts her good morning. The next weekend, they go to Venice Beach together, and they see a movie in a classic theater downtown the following Tuesday. That night, he comes over for dinner, and they cook together, finding their way around each other in Finn’s small kitchen. 

And all of a sudden, this summer is different, hot and sticky like all the others, but different because this summer has Niall. 

Niall on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, listing all the reasons that golf is superior to all other sports. 

Niall in the passenger’s seat of her car, singing along to the radio even when he doesn’t know the words, the sun setting behind him, lighting him up as if it’s saying, “Look, he’s beautiful.”

And he is beautiful. Niall in her thoughts, Niall on the back of her eyelids when she blinks, Niall in her dreams. Niall, beautiful. 

And Niall in her manuscript, try as she might to keep him out. In sticking with the proposal she made to her editor back in the spring, she’s writing about a doctor and an artist who meet when they’re sharing a wall in a duplex summer rental on the coast of Oregon. By midsummer, she’s written thirty thousand words, enough to reassure her editor that she’s still writing, that things are fine, and, upon rereading, she realizes that the doctor has become Niall.

The doctor, so sure of himself, driven and determined and sexier than any other hero she’s ever written. He is confident and has beautiful eyes and magic fingers, and the heroine, the artist, is head over heels in love with him before she’s even thought to like him. 

And the artist. Finn is the artist, the confused, prideful creative soul who doesn’t want love, is afraid of it, just wants to be left alone. But now she has the lawyer, the beautiful, handsome, intelligent, lovely lawyer who makes her want to stop hiding. He makes her want to feel things. He makes her want to reach out for him, to push her fears aside and let her have what she wants. 

July brings that realization and an unseasonal thunderstorm that forces Finn to bring out a bucket and email her landlord about that leak in the roof from December that still hasn’t been fixed. That’s a momentary distraction, at least, from thoughts of Niall, thoughts of Niall that are plaguing her every moment. Awake, asleep, Niall. Always Niall. 

It’s thundering overhead when there’s a knock at her door. She opens it, and there he is, like she’s conjured him.

“I brought wine,” he says, holding out the bottle.

“Come in,” she says. She thinks of how much has changed since she sat on her couch a month ago, drinking wine with Jocelyn. She wishes, for a moment, that she could go back. But then she looks at Niall again. 

And she doesn’t want to look away, like the artist doesn’t want to look away from the doctor. When you find something this perfect, why would you ever look away? Why would you let it go? 

Finn knows from experience, though, that sometimes you don’t get to choose when people leave. Sometimes they leave you, aching and cold and alone. Sometimes it’s not up to you. 

“Come in,” she says again. She grabs two wine glasses from the kitchen and joins Niall in the living room, where they sit on the couch, thighs pressed together, and he picks a movie for them to watch. 

She isn’t paying attention, though, as she downs two glasses of wine and wonders if Niall will kiss her tonight. She’d like him to, she decides, just as much as she doesn’t want him to. It’s like the Schroedinger’s cat of kisses—if they never kiss, she will never know the kiss, but she will also never know what happens after it. She will never know if they go further, if they stop abruptly, if he breaks her heart and leaves her in pieces, smashed on the concrete like her broken coffee mug. 

But she will also never know if it will be beautiful, like the loves of the characters in her novels, characters who risk their hearts when they don’t know what the outcome will be. The difference between Finn and Niall and the artist and the doctor, though, is that Finn can control the artist and the doctor. She can decide their ending, she can choose the words for the last page. 

And maybe, with Niall, she doesn’t want a last page. 

Two hours later, Finn is wine-drunk and sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the couch. Niall is next to her, the table pushed away from them to accommodate his long legs. She leans her head on his shoulder, thinking, in the way only a wine-addled mind will allow, that she’d like to keep this night forever, seal it into a locket and wear it around her neck. 

“Tell me again why you don’t like your books,” Niall says. He has her newest proof in front of him on the table. It’s littered with post-it notes, changes Finn would’ve made to it had she had more time. But it’s too late now, and it will print as is. 

“They’re not good,” Finn says, her go-to explanation. “I can do better.” 

Niall shakes his head. “But they are good. I read Sunshine in Your Mouth, and it’s good. You’re a good writer, Finn.” 

“Oh, no.” Finn ducks, covering her face with her arms. “You read it? I can’t believe you read it.” 

“Yeah, I did.” Niall tugs her arm away from her face. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Oh, if only he knew how apt that statement was, then maybe he wouldn’t say it. Finn puts her arms down and refills her wine glass. She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but maybe if she does, she’ll stop thinking about how blue Niall’s eyes are and how soft his fingers feel against her arm. 

“Tell me the truth,” Niall says, thumbing the post-its in her proof copy. “Why don’t you like being Isobel Soleil?” 

“Because I’m not her. I’m not like her. I just don’t believe in love,” Finn tries to explain. “It’s like—”

Niall laughs. “Love’s not like the tooth fairy, Finn. You don’t have to have felt it to know it’s real.” 

Finn looks at him, at his soft cheeks and his pink lips and his messy hair. In another life, in another version of this world, maybe she and Niall have known each other forever, since they were kids. And maybe Finn loves Niall. Maybe she always has. Maybe they fit. Maybe it’s the easiest thing this other Finn’s ever felt. 

But the Finn that lives in this world, the one sitting on the floor of her apartment with her knees pulled to her chest and a half-empty wine glass in her hand—this Finn doesn’t feel things easily. Feelings are heavy and feelings hold you back and feelings stick around long after the people who brought them on are gone.

“My parents,” Finn says, “they got divorced when I was five.” 

“Finn, you don’t have to—” 

“It’s fine,” Finn says. The wine is talking now. The wine and the smell of Niall’s shampoo and the plunk plunk plunk of rain hitting the bucket on the kitchen floor. “My dad was sleeping with his secretary. Such a cliche, right? And it took my mom years to leave him. Years. He was sleeping with his secretary while my mom was pregnant with me. She kept thinking he’d stop, that he’d finally realize that he loved her, that he loved his family. She kept waiting, until she couldn’t anymore.” 

Finn feels Niall’s fingers brush against hers where they rest on the rug. “That’s why you don’t believe in love?”

“No.” Finn closes her eyes, her head tilting back against the sofa cushion. “That’s why I don’t let myself feel it.”

“Finn.” 

She doesn’t answer as Niall moves closer. Eyes closed, she can feel him entering her personal space, can feel the heat of his hand as he takes her wine glass, hears the clink of glass on wood as he puts it on the table. Feels his fingers on her cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Finn. Look at me.” 

So she does, opens her eyes and meets his, and it’s too much, it’s all too much, the way he’s looking at her like he can see her feelings, can read them as if they were written across her forehead.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles. “Like what?” 

“Like you like me.” The words are out before she can stop them, slipping from her lips like a sigh. 

“Finn.” He’s closer now, impossibly close, his hand on her cheek. “Finn, I more than like you.” 

“I—” Finn starts, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

She doesn’t know what this feeling is, the one taking over her chest and spreading to her stomach and traveling up her throat all the way to her eyeballs. It’s a headache and nausea at the same time, plus a sense of doom in her stomach, maybe the unconscious realization that this can’t last forever. 

Because feelings never do. Niall likes her now, likes her a lot, likes her enough to maybe kiss her against her dirty car in the parking lot fifty feet from their building. But that won’t last. He’ll like her for a bit and then he’ll like her less and less until nothing remains but the memory of the fire that used to burn, a bit of leftover smoke drifting skyward. 

And that’s when it will hurt. 

This will hurt, Finn thinks, but she jumps anyway. 

“Then kiss me,” she says. 

So he does, and in his kiss, for as long as it lasts, she lets herself feel everything: lets herself feel the sticky heat of summer and the sticky heat of a love so big it sucks you under, leaves you breathless, makes you hold on tight. 

She slides her hand into his hair and thinks, I will hold on tight. 

When it’s over, Niall pulls back, leans his forehead on hers. He’s breathing heavy when he says, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.” 

“I want to do it again,” Finn says. She slides her fingers under the collar of his shirt. 

Niall’s hand tightens on her waist. “Is that the wine talking?” 

Finn shakes her head. “No,” she says. “It’s me. And I more than like you, too.” 

Niall grins, bright and beautiful. “Good,” he says. “You’re my perfect summer.” 

He leans in to kiss her again, and Finn decides, in that split second before their lips meet, that even if all she gets with Niall is a summer, it will be beautiful and it will be perfect, the stuff of novels. The stuff of her novels. 

But, something in her gut tells her, Niall will be around for more than a summer.

He does live right downstairs, after all.

[lyssismagical]

10 or 21 or 44 for the angst/fluff prompts thing :DD

10 - “Don’t you dare touch”

44 - “Hold still”

{TW for a bit of violence, home invasion}

Peter’s a superhero.

He’s capable of the impossible. Lifting tons of mass with ease, anticipating bad things before they happen, an inhumanly quick reflex, sticking to any surface.

He’s capable of a lot so he doesn’t get scared easily. Nothing really fazes him anymore.

But this?

This is where the fear sets in, running his blood cold.

It was meant to be simple, just babysitting Morgan for the day while Tony and Pepper had a few meetings in the city to do. And it was fine, Peter’s babysat dozens of times before.

But people broke into the cabin. People who don’t care about the secrets in the lab or the millions of dollars worth of art and technology throughout the cabin. They don’t care about taking anything. They had somehow knew that Tony and Pepper would be gone because they focus in on Peter and Morgan as their targets.

There’s only three of them in the living room, but Peter can count at least six more standing guard outside the front door, and more circling around the house.

Peter would’ve been alright if he were home alone, if it were just him, if he were in the suit, but he’s not. He doesn’t even have his webshooters on, having left them in his nightstand earlier, and Morgan’s tucked behind him, hands clinging onto the back of his shirt and hiding her face.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, trying his best to play off his fear. “I don’t want any problems here, okay? You want money, tech, blueprints? I’ll give you whatever you want if you leave us alone.”

It’s what Tony’s been teaching Peter. He taught as the situation where Peter gets kidnapped, this is the kind of thing he’s supposed to say. He’s supposed to give up anything for his own safety.

One of the guards laugh, slinging his big gun over his shoulder. “We’re not here for that, kid. We’re here to make some demands to dear old Stark.”

“Demands? For what?”

“Spider-Man,” another man says, looking over his shoulder at the door. “Stark knows the bug, we’ve heard.”

Peter nearly corrects him. He would’ve if it weren’t for Morgan, cowering behind him. Arachnid, not bug.

The last guard in the room, a woman, lifts her helmet off and sends the kids a cold smile. “Alright, I’ve gotten the go ahead. Call Stark.”

Peter wishes his phone wasn’t on the table already. Wishes he could’ve made the excuse to send Morgan upstairs for a phone, but it’s too late for that.

He pulls up Tony’s contact, apprehensively eyeing the weaponry aimed at them. They haven’t been particularly aggressive yet, but Peter doesn’t want to doubt their capabilities to hurt them if necessary.

“Listen,” Peter says before dialing. “Please, can we do this without her? She doesn’t need to see this.”

Morgan lets out a quiet whimper in response, tucking herself closer to Peter who wraps an arm around her and squeezes reassuringly.

“Call Stark,” the woman repeats gruffly like she doesn’t have the time for Peter’s requests.

Tony picks up on the third ring. “Kid? I’m out of the meeting in like fifteen, can this wait that long?”

“They want Spider-Man, Tony,” Peter says carefully. “There are a lot of people with guns threatening me and Morgan if you don’t hand over Spider-Man.”

“Am I on speakerphone?” Tony asks, voice low with barely concealed anger.

“Yes, sir,” Peter says dutifully, looking up at the woman with the gun still trained on him.

The woman sneers at him, letting her gun fall to her side to free up one of her hands to deck him.

Morgan cries out like she’s the one who got hit, hands grappling to pull herself tighter against Peter’s back, squishing herself between him and the back of the couch where they’ve been sat.

Peter’s gotten pretty used to getting punched. He’s been punched by everybody from Captain America to Flash. It’s not really a big deal anymore, but he hates that Morgan’s seeing this. He hates that it scares her.

“If you just hit my kid, I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not going to kill him, Stark,” the woman says, rolling her eyes. “We’ll all leave if you give us Spider-Man.”

Peter would tell them he was Spider-Man, but he’s terrified that as soon as they kill him, they’ll hurt Morgan too. He can’t let that happen, but he can’t think of any other way out of this.

Tony’s not the superhero he once was. He doesn’t have suits on hand anymore, the majority of them destroyed. The only thing he kept is a few of the gauntlet-watches, just in case. Peter can’t think of way that even Tony could get them out of this situation.

“I can’t just give you Spider-Man. I don’t have him on speeddial, I’ve just made him a couple suits. I don’t know him,” Tony says, but he sounds panicked already.

The woman rolls her eyes again. “That’s a lie, Stark, and everyone knows it. Give us Spider-Man and we’ll let your children go.”

“I can’t give you Spider-Man,” Tony repeats. “I can give you a general idea of where he might be, I could tell you where I see him most often. I could even tell you some things about him, but I don’t even know him.”

Peter sees the fist coming, but he doesn’t flinch away or block it like his body wants him to. He can’t let them know he’s Spider-Man.

He spits out the blood that’s pooled in his mouth onto the shoes of the woman, wincing when some of it gets on the expensive rug. He hopes Pepper will forgive him for that.

But Peter doesn’t really care about himself, what he does care about is the hands that reach for Morgan who lets out an awful sob as she clings to Peter.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Peter shoves the hands away from her, glaring up at the two men. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to me, but don’t fucking touch her.”

“This is where you draw the line?” The man asks, lifting an eyebrow behind the glass of his mask incredulously.

Peter barely contains the protective growl that rises in his throat when the woman reaches out for him again. “Please, just let her go. I promise, I know where Spider-Man is, but I’ll only tell you if you let her go and swear you won’t hurt her.”

The woman contemplates for a moment before grabbing his phone from his hands. “Fine. As you wish. But if you don’t make do on your promise, I’ll put a bullet in both your heads. And Stark? We don’t need you anymore, so I hope this means you’ll get to come home to your children.” She ends the call before he can say another word.

Peter turns to Morgan, carefully prying her hands away from his shirt and getting her to look up at him. “Hey, pumpkin, could you brave for me? Just for a little bit?”

“Petey?” Morgan says. She looks so young, so scared, and it tears Peter’s heart in two.

“I want you to go to our secret spot, okay? Can you do that for me? And don’t come out until me or your daddy or mommy come get you, alright?”

Morgan sniffles, slowly letting go of Peter and nodding. “Okay.”

“Good. I’ll come get you as soon as I can, I promise.”

Peter keeps a careful eye on the three guards as Morgan takes off up the stairs. She’s headed to their fort. There’s a mostly secret pathway from Peter’s window into the treehouse.

Now that he’s alone and Morgan’s relatively safe and Tony should be home soon, Peter doesn’t need to think twice before putting himself in harms way.

He’s a good fighter, strong and coordinated, spidey-sense and reflexes backing him up, but he’s not used to fighting weaponless.

Without his webshooters, without Karen, without any of the features the suit gives him, it’s unnatural and it throws him off a little to be fighting solely with his body. Especially against all of their weapons.

As soon as the first gunshots go off, more guards start flooding in from the front and back doors, guns blazing.

He can’t even web them up, so he’s forced to knock out all of his opponents, something he doesn’t particularly enjoy doing. He can feel his knuckles split as he takes out two more guards, kicking back with socked feet, to get another one.

Pain explodes through his side and he gasps, one hand fumblingly covering the wound as he continues fighting.

The second bullet that hits him is worse, knocking him to the ground when searing pain shoots through his leg, but he hears the woman shout for the girl, and he knows he has to get back up.

He throws a little bit more of superstrength behind the punch that he throws at the woman, a sick kind of relief flooding through him when she falls, gun slipping from her grasp.

Tires squeal as Tony’s car finally pulls up outside, just as Peter’s taking out the rest of the guards.

Tony throws open the front door just in time to see Peter fall to the couch, surrounded by a sea of unconscious guards.

“Peter!” Tony gasps, hurrying over with a first aid kit already in hand, probably the one he keeps in the car’s glove compartment. “God, kid, I leave for one day and this is what happens? No wonder May sends you my way instead of letting you stay home alone.”

“Morgan-”

Tony shushes him, standing up to grab a towel from the kitchen. Peter squirms on the couch, trying to make him understand, he needs to make sure Morgan’s okay, he needs her to know that he’s okay too.

But Tony grabs his shoulder and coaxes him back onto the couch.

“Morgan, please, she-”

“Pepper’s got her,” Tony says. “Treehouse, right? Now, hold still.”

Peter does as told, letting Tony press the towel against his side and his leg before popping open the first aid kit to get Peter’s stitches down. Thankfully, they’re just grazes, it could’ve been a lot worse, but both wounds only need a few stitches just in case.

“Petey!” Morgan shouts, squirming out of Pepper’s arms as soon as they make it to the front door.

Luckily, Tony’s practice has made him pretty good at stitching so he’s gets the gauze taped over the wounds just in time for Morgan to come barreling onto the couch again, fingers instantly finding their places in his shirt.

“Thanks for being so brave for me, pumpkin,” he says, grinning at her.

Pepper’s nose crinkles at the mess of her living room and beckons to the three of them. “C’mon. I’ll get the police here and we’ll go get some ice cream, okay? Get out of here for a few hours.”

That easily gets both kids to perk up. “Ice cream?”

Morgan races towards the car parked haphazardly in the driveway and Pepper rolls her eyes in amusement, heading after her.

Tony carefully helps Peter up to his feet, keeping an arm sturdily around his waist, taking Peter’s weight. “Thanks for keeping her safe. You did perfect.”

Peter flushes at the praise, ducking his head. “Would’ve been better if I had my webshooters on me.”

“Yeah, I could’ve done without the injuries, but still did good, kid.”

Smiling, Peter relaxes against Tony’s side. “Thanks, Tony. Ice cream?”

“Yeah, you deserve it after all this.”

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