#gonna have to pass this on to a few specific people

[arthur-r]

(vent cw sorry i ran out of room in the tags to say that. it’s illness-related anger as usual. content warning for medical everything)

im so fucking sick though. just in general

[ulmus-spellook]

Me on Saturday: looking up info for timing in the closest city “I know I won’t be able to see the total eclipse from my part of the country, but I could at least see a partial one!”

Me on Sunday: it’s raining outside and it looks like the kind of rain that lasts more than 24 hours “oh no.”

Me on Monday: I look outside around noon, it’s cloudy out and when I opened my weather app it said it would start raining soon *sigh* “the clouds have once again prevented me from witnessing a cool sky event” we really need this rain though. It would have been nice if it came a few days sooner! There would be less fire and the sky could be clearer for the eclipse

So today I’m hearing people online talking about how cool the eclipse was and just being like: “I’m gonna be honest. I accidentally slept through the last partial (solar) eclipse and I couldn’t even see this partial solar eclipse if I was trying”

I know I’ve seen lunar eclipses though, my insomnia was at least useful there

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (1)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell (on the way!)

This is part of a series of unrelated works entitled "Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually" and I think that title is fairly self-explanatory. If there are any other couples you think would be good parents for our Stevie boy, let me know and I'll take them into consideration!

Anyway, the B-Side thing is because this is like taking my Addams Family Steddie au and just flipping the cassette tape hfjsdk

This time, it's Steve that's the Addams and Eddie that's normal!

Anyway, blame @whatthemeepever for this one specifically cuz it's gonna spiral into a wild ride actually, so let's all pray for Eddie in advance

If you'd like a tag for any future parts, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

-------

The moment Steve is born, his father sticks a light bulb in his mouth. When it glows, he jumps with joy and throws Steve into the air. The moment Steve's mother realizes what's happening, she slaps his father upside the head, throws the light bulb at him, and threatens to blow him up again if he sticks anymore into Steve's mouth before he starts teething.

She follows through on the promise exactly two weeks later, and Steve's parents (one smug and the other notably singed but delighted) rebuild their house next door to his father's brother.

Steve's mother chooses his first and last name (Harrington, a reference to some long-lost family friend or other), and his father is reluctantly given the freedom to choose his middle name. In the end, he is dubbed Steve Faustus Harrington, a name his mother is so surprised to find acceptable that she kisses his father as a reward.

And so begins Steve's life.

------

"I can't believe you got expelled," Steve's mother seethes, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turn white. "Again!"

Steve crosses his arms, sinking lower in his seat as he glares out the window. "It's not my fault they were shitty friends. They got what they deserved."

He hears his mother laugh, the sound strained and indignant and very quickly followed by his father turning to look at Steve from the passenger seat. His sunken eyes are filled with suppressed delight as he asks, "What did they do this time?"

A few seconds pass before Steve sighs. "They said they couldn't go out later because they had to study for finals. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? Finals are three weeks away, and they can't spare one weekend for the funeral museum?" he says, scoffing as he looks at his father, grins, and adds, "So, I brought the funeral museum to them, coffins and cremations and all."

His father's eyes light up, sheer joy and pride dancing in them. And for the very first time in Steve's life, his mother pulls over to the side of the road and parks the car.

"Pumpkin?" his father asks.

"Fester," she says, her voice low and somewhere in the range of upset, "do you remember when I tried to kill your entire family?"

"Of course. It was a splendid attempt."

She nods and looks at him with a tiny, somewhat pained smile. Then she turns and sets her gaze on Steve. "Darling, what kind of grades do your friends have?" she asks. "Because if you're anything like me, and I know you are, you tend to befriend people who are significantly dumber than you."

Steve blinks, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, most of them were about to fail," he admits.

"Then, isn't it possible they really were studying for finals? Especially if they were close to failing at a school where passing is a requirement of attendance? Perhaps you could have suggested going to the...funeral museum after finals?"

A few seconds pass as Steve considers her words, a crushing sense of realization and guilt dropping on his shoulders and traveling to the pit of his stomach. It makes him feel nauseous, and he stares down at his lap. "I fucked up," he finally says, voice quiet and apologetic.

"Of course not!" Fester says, reaching out and ruffling Steve's hair despite the affronted noise from Debbie, "Your plan was beautifully conceived and masterfully executed. Perhaps you should just talk a little more before pulling out the urns next time."

"Incredibly, your father is right," Debbie says, looking pleasantly surprised before turning her gaze to Steve. She sighs and holds out a hand, squeezing Steve's when he takes it. "Don't get so blinded by a beautiful pair of shoes that you completely miss the sale two aisles over, Steve. At the very least, do a little more research before resorting to torture and murder. Personally, I'm very tired of calling the family's lawyer."

Steve snorts at the utter lie. Debbie loves calling the family's lawyer. She does so regularly just to double-check the state of Fester's stocks and bonds and deeds and general worth. "Okay," he says, nodding once, "I'll remember for the next school."

"You know," Fester says, looking at Debbie hopefully, "Pubert is a senior this year. Maybe Steve could go to high school with him."

Debbie hesitates, frowning slightly before saying, "Yes, but it's...public school."

"The best Gomez and Morticia could find! It was highly recommended by Margaret, and Pubert can make sure Steve adjusts and makes friends."

Steve can see the moment his mother agrees. She sighs, lets go of his hand, and fixes her already perfect bob. "Well, I suppose," she says before looking at Steve once more. "And you, Steve? Would you like to try...public school for your junior year?"

"Sure, might be fun," Steve says, thinking about all the movies he's seen that display public high schools as a zoo and the worst place on Earth. It sounds great, and if the place is still standing while Pubert attends, it must be somewhat entertaining.

------

"You've got everything you'll need?"

Steve looks up from lacing his shoes and smiles at his mother, earning a nervous grin in return. Her blonde hair is uncharacteristically frazzled, and Steve feels warm and fuzzy (like a mold growing over his heart) at knowing she's so worried as to appear less-than-perfect in front of him.

"Yes, I've got everything," he says, gesturing to the backpack on the stairs next to him. In addition to notebooks and his pencil case, Steve has also packed a travel mace, a miniature bomb (alarm clock detonator stored separately, of course), a tiny bottle of tequila, and his lucky lightbulb (just in case).

His mother nods once, takes a deep breath, and then turns her head toward the kitchen to shout, "FESTER!"

Something crashes, a cat (they don't have a cat) yowls, and Steve's father slides into the doorway. "Yes, Pumpkin?" he asks, eyes bright and happy and utterly stuck on Debbie.

"Is Steve's lunch ready? You made something normal, right?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Fester glances at Steve, a brief look shared between them that's both sympathetic and endeared toward Debbie. "Of course," Fester says, disappearing for two seconds before striding over to the stairs with a pink lunch box decorated with black skulls (Steve chose the color, Fester chose the pattern, and Debbie gave them her stamp of approval). "A turkey sandwich, fruit, cookies, and juice."

"Fruit?" Debbie asks, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Apple slices!"

After a few seconds, Debbie nods, and Fester gives the lunch box to Steve, shifting some so Debbie doesn't see the conspiratorial wink that tells him the juice is definitely poisoned. Steve grins and shoves the lunch box into his bag. He finishes lacing his shoes and stands, holding his arms out so his mother can inspect him.

"You've done a wonderful job pairing your shirt and shoes," Debbie says, walking around Steve with an air of pride and approval. She rubs the sleeve of his pastel yellow sweater between her thumb and forefinger, nodding once. "The plum pants are a bold choice, but it pays off. And, as always, your hair is flawless, dear."

Steve grins, letting his arms fall to his side. "I tried that new mousse you gave me," he says, fingers twitching as he fights the urge to run them through his hair. "It works great."

His mother smiles even wider and kisses his cheek, pulling out a handkerchief and carefully wiping away the lipstick residue she leaves behind. "I knew it would," she says, inspecting Steve's face once more before nodding with approval.

"Pumpkin, it's time for Steve to go. Pubert is waiting."

Debbie huffs softly and gives Steve one last once over before nodding and hurrying him toward the door. "Have a good day at school, try not to blow anything up, and call me if Pubert tries to cut off your head with a rusty knife again," she says.

"What if it's a clean knife?"

"Well, that's fine. Grandmama will just sew it back on."

Steve grins and waves to both of his parents before hurrying toward the sidewalk where Pubert is waiting. His hair is parted down the middle and gelled down, his pencil-thin mustache is immaculate as ever, and he's wearing a three-piece suit. When Steve is closer, he pulls out two cigars and offers one.

"This isn't an exploding cigar again, right? I'm wearing a new shirt," Steve says, taking it and looking it over.

"Nah, that joke only works once," Pubert says, dragging a match against his palm to light it. He holds it to his cigar first, puffs a few times, and then does the same for Steve. "How long till you get expelled again, you think?"

Steve shrugs as he takes a puff from the cigar, letting the smoke linger for a moment before skillfully blowing it out in perfect circles as they walk. "I haven't been to a public school before," he says, tapping the cigar over the sidewalk, "so, hopefully, at least a year."

"Public school is fun," Pubert says, getting a wicked grin as he looks at Steve. "You can get away with a lot."

"And the other kids?"

"Well, they've certainly got a lot to learn. I mean, most of them can't even handle a little cyanide."

Steve scrunches his nose and takes another puff of his cigar. After a few seconds he asks, "Will we have any classes together?"

"You're a year below me, so maybe an elective or two. What did you sign up for?"

"I signed up for, uh, shop class, forensic science, and Gothic literature."

"We'll have Gothic lit together," Pubert says, flashing a smile before asking, "And you know what shop class is, right?"

Steve blinks, suddenly a little hesitant. "Is it not, like, something about shopping?"

"No. It's building things. With wood, usually."

"Oh! So, I can build anything?"

"I guess. I haven't taken it."

"Well, I'll find out. Maybe I can build Dad a catapult or guillotine or something."

As they get closer to the school, more students fill the sidewalks, but Steve notices that most of them seem to give him and Pubert a wide berth. They also stare, looking at Steve like he's some kind of puzzle to be solved, with more than a few flashing sympathetic smiles like he's trapped and can't get away. "You're popular," Steve notes, taking one last puff of his cigar before dropping it into a trash can.

"I would fucking hope so," Pubert says, finishing off his cigar and tossing it into the next trash can they pass. "I didn't flood the place with roaches and vermin to not be known."

Steve grins, listening as Pubert regales him with the tale only to cut it short when they get inside the school and pass the front office. "I need to get my schedule, but Mom said she made sure we'd have lunch together," Steve says.

Pubert waves him off. "Yeah, I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Have fun, cousin," he replies, mockingly saluting him before heading off down the main hall.

-----

Steve's first class of the day was AP Calculus, followed by AP Physics, Wood Shop, and AP U.S. History. When it's finally time for lunch, he surveys the cafeteria for a few seconds before finding a table in a dark corner that everyone seems to avoid. By the time he gets there, Pubert has sat down with a tray from the lunch line.

Steve sets his backpack on the table, sits down, and says, "For a place that's so lifeless, it's not even fun."

"Yeah, it's like that," Pubert agrees, poking some unidentifiable mush on his tray with a spork before spooning some into his mouth.

It's with a somewhat jealous expression that Steve pulls out his lunch box and removes a thermos of poisoned juice. "Is it bad?" he asks, nodding to the tray.

"Utterly repulsive."

Steve sighs and takes a sip from the thermos before pulling out everything else in his lunch box. "They made me wear safety goggles in shop. Safety goggles! It's like they don't know how fun splinters in the eyes are. And everyone is soooo scared of the saws, it's ridiculous," he complains, taking an angry bite of his sandwich.

"What about your other classes?"

"Physics would be better with more practical examples. I mean, who cares about apples when we could learn if a body falls faster than a cannonball?"

"From experience, no," Pubert says, "Anyway, you gonna join any clubs?"

"Maybe the swim team? If I'm lucky, I'll drown," Steve says, perking up a little at the thought.

"Best of luck with that," Pubert replies, stealing Steve's thermos to take a sip of his juice. When he places it back, he offers Steve a sporkful of the mush.

Steve lights up and happily tries it, wondering how something can be so perfectly undercooked and overcooked at the same time. "Impressive," he says, passing the spork back. "Is that freezer burn?"

Before Pubert can answer, a bang from the other side of the cafeteria cuts off all other sounds. Steve glances over to see a boy in heavy combat boots climbing onto his table with a mischievous grin. He's wearing a shirt with a devil head on it and "Hellfire Club" emblazoned above and a vest with spikes, pins, and patches. His hair is just below his shoulders and a little curly, and Steve can see from here the wild glint in his eyes as he stomps down the table while talking.

"I'm tired of the double standards of this lame school. If you're into science or band or some other 'uncool' interest, the administration couldn't give two shits! Oh, the choir room needs new risers so the current ones don't break any necks? Well, that's too bad, we've got to give the football team new monogrammed towels for the locker room!" the guy says, grinning when a group of kids to the side shouts their agreement. "And never mind that our Robotics team has won the school three trophies when the basketball team so valiantly scraped into third place last year for being kinda good at throwing balls into laundry baskets."

"Prick!"

Steve glances at the guy who shouted, taking in his letterman jacket before quickly dismissing him. He looks back in time to see the boy on the table sticking out his tongue and holding his hands to his temples to make horns. There's an even wilder look in his eyes now, a sheer glee at causing a scene and getting under someone's skin.

Steve doesn't realize he's smiling until the boy scoffs, shouts one more line about the school's unfair preference for "mediocre jocks," and hops off the table. He looks over at Pubert and asks, "Who was that?"

Pubert glances at Steve, studying him for a moment before swallowing another mouthful of mush and saying, "Eddie Munson. He does that once a week, usually."

"Eddie Munson," Steve murmurs, glancing over at Eddie's table again and smiling a little wider.

[tasteleeknow]

— push, pull

pairing: chan x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.1k

a/n: specific is good, helps me figure out what you want! hope this is somewhat what you were looking for! i went maybe a bit heavy on the angst lmao also sorry for being so late, couldn’t post for a few weeks.

afab!reader. body image themes [general insecurity, no mention of weight]. unprotected intercourse [grinding, desperate!chan, creampie, overstimulation].

Your boyfriend was much clingier than you, physical touch was just how he expressed affection. You loved hugs and soft touches just as much as the next person, until you didn’t. There were times you couldn’t stand it. You’d spiralled a few weeks ago after a friend had sent you a terrible photo of yourself. Sometimes that was all it took. You’d throw yourself into your work to distract from the suffocating feeling of wanting to crawl out of your own skin. It would usually pass after a while, dissipating into a sort of neutral acceptance of the body you inhabited. But this one? You hadn’t had an episode this bad in a long time. Years.

Chan had hardly tried to touch you at all the past few days. It was such unusual behaviour it had snapped you out of the hyper focused haze you’d been in. The past few weeks had flown by—you'd been so focused on work and nothing else. You knew you’d been brushing him off and you hadn’t initiated sex at all, he had to have noticed—even if he hadn’t said anything. 

You were attempting to make a meal—one way out of your skill level—before he got home from work. It wasn’t much of an apology, but you were embarrassed. Too embarrassed to just sit down and just admit why you’d been acting off. What would you say? ‘Sorry, I’ve been totally closed off and weird because I saw a bad photo of myself and instantly spiralled into such a deep pit, that the idea of anyone touching me makes my skin crawl.’ It made you feel ridiculous. You’re so deep in thought the sound of the front door unlocking makes you jump, spilling liquid from the measuring cup you’re carefully filling. You wash your hands quickly and rush out of the kitchen to see your boyfriend at the door, taking his shoes off. 

“You’re home early.” 

“Yeah,” he says, offering no explanation. 

“I made dinner.”

He groans a little as he stands, a clear sign he’s had a rough day. “Alright, just gonna have a shower,” he says, slinking past you without his usual greeting kiss. You frown, then mindlessly you grab a towel so you can warm it for him in the dryer—like you always did. 

By the time he’s done you’ve set up the table and laid way more food than two people were capable of eating. It had taken you hours. He dawdles into the room wearing sweatpants and a small towel around his neck, hair still dripping a little onto his bare skin. When his eyes land on the table he pauses. “You made all this?” he says, looking up at your face for the first time since he walked in the door. 

“Mm, it might not be very good. I had a few mess ups,” you say before leaning over the table to set a vase down in the centre. The red rose reminded you of the bouquet he’d given you on your fourth date, it was huge—so big you hadn’t been able to see in front of you. He’d laughed as you’d attempted to peek around the flowers and then offered to hold it for you until you’d arrived at your front door. You’d spent the walk home working up the courage to ask him to come inside. 

A warm hand at your waist makes you squirm, turning just in time to see Chan’s expression drop. He takes a small step back. You’ve brushed him off, again. Fuck. You open your mouth before pausing, unsure what to say. He walks to the other side of the table wordlessly, settling himself into his usual chair. 

“Thank you,” he says, tone flat as he reaches to serve himself. You were fucking this up already. You walk around the table and take the utensils from him so you can serve him yourself. He leans back in the chair, putting up no protest. When you ask him what he wants, if that’s enough, if he’s sure he doesn’t want more—he makes monosyllabic responses. ‘Sure.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Mm.’

He eats silently and you wonder if maybe something bad happened at work, he was acting so unlike himself. It had to have been more than your bad mood affecting him. “Did you have a good day?” you ask, breaking the heavy silence finally. 

He finishes his mouthful before answering. “Not really, to be honest. I’ve…been feeling a little uninspired.” Okay, he was struggling with his creative process. That would always upset him. Your shoulders lighten as the guilt lifts a little. 

“Want me to take a listen?” you ask. He’d often ask you to listen to his tracks when he got stuck. You were never much help but he’d brighten up a little after, as if just your involvement was enough to lighten his load. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he mutters as he picks at his food. You slump a little, the guilt returning. This was definitely your fault. You’d done this and you didn’t even have a good explanation. He was never going to think of you the same again. You were petty and childish and ugly and so, so embarrassed. A soft sniffle snaps you out of your spiral. He’s hunched over even more now, hair falling over his eyes. 

“Baby?” Was he…crying? He falls back against the back of the chair at your soft probing, hands covering his face. You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the floorboards. He sucks in a shaky breath as you round the table to crouch at his side. When you reach up to gently pull his hands from his face, he doesn’t resist, letting you get a clear look at the tears rolling down his cheeks. You drop his hands and quickly reach up to take his face in your hands, warm cheeks wet against your thumbs as you attempt to brush them away. 

“Please—please don’t cry. Baby? Look at me.” He sniffles before his watery eyes meet yours. “Talk to me,” you prompt, feeling instantly guilty for asking from him what you’d failed to do yourself. You feel your eyes start to burn as you attempt to hold back your own tears. He doesn’t answer you, eyes dropping back to his lap. You stand before lowering yourself into his lap, edge of the table pressing lightly against your back. 

He looks up at you again, his hands gripping the bottom of the chair. “Why did you do this?” he asks, voice shaky. Your heart drops, thinking he means the way you’ve been acting the past month. Then he clarifies, “It must have taken you hours, I don’t—I don’t understand.” Oh, the dinner. 

“I-I love you. You do nice things for people you love.” 

“You still love me?” 

Oh, god. You’d fucked up so much worse than you’d imagined. “Why would you ask that? Of course I do, Of course I do, baby.” 

“You won’t touch me. You won’t let me touch you.” 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I-I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I’ve been…not well.” 

His hands move to your hips as his brows pull together. “You’re sick?” 

“No, I mean…my head. It’s silly. I should have just told you. I saw a photo, and I spiralled. I just feel so gross sometimes and when you touch me… I just—”

“You don’t like me touching you?” 

“I do. I love you and I love how you’re always touching me. I just have had a bad few weeks, it’s not about you. I just…haven’t been feeling good about myself. I should’ve told you instead of pushing you away.” You lean forward to press yourself against his chest, his arms wrapping around you properly for the first time in weeks. “I’m sorry,” you mutter again. 

“Can we…just stay like this for a bit?” he asks, arms tightening a little. 

“Mm, as long as you want,” you whisper, reaching up to stroke the hair at the back of his head.

By the time he releases you, the food is mostly cold. You don’t leave his lap, each of you taking turns feeding each other a little of the food on his plate. He doesn’t say much, a small compliment on your cooking, a little small talk. 

“Are you tired?” you ask, rubbing small circles into his upper back. 

“Are you?”

“Mm.” 

“Why don’t you shower while I clean up? I’ll be in soon,” he says, helping you off his lap so he can stand. 

“I can help, it’ll be done quicker.” 

“I’ve got it.” 

You try not to let your worry show on your face. He was clearly still feeling down, the air felt thick with everything left unsaid. “Alright,” you mutter, pressing one quick kiss to his cheek before leaving the room. 

You pull the covers up over your shoulders, anxiety building in your chest as the sound of his electric toothbrush stops. You couldn’t go to sleep with everything up in the air like this. You had to make sure he had no doubts about how you felt about him. He didn’t deserve this. 

You quickly shut your eyes just as the bathroom door opens. Coward, you chastise yourself. The bed rocks as he climbs in next to you. Usually he’d wrap himself around you, lips pressed to the skin at your shoulder. Not now. Now he settles on his side of the bed, the gap between you feeling much greater than the few centimetres it was in reality. 

You suck in a deep breath then open your eyes, rolling over to face him. You meet his eyes in the soft light, hoping the right words will magically come to you. They don’t. So you move instead, shuffling your body closer to his. When you press your lips to his softly, he doesn’t react, letting you kiss him but taking no active role. The anxiety in your chest transforms into panic. You push his shoulder so he’s on his back, climbing over him. You press your lips to his again, feeling frantic. 

His arm wraps around you and then he’s sitting up, taking you with him. He pulls his lips from yours. “Stop,” he whispers, “Please.” 

You lean back, chest heaving. He looks pained. “Did I hurt you?” 

He looks up quickly, eyes flicking back and forth between yours—like he doesn’t understand your meaning. You consider your words. You’d meant just now but… of course you’d hurt him. You’d been hurting him for weeks. 

“You don’t need to do this,” he says finally. “I don’t want this if it’s not what you want.” 

“This?” you breathe, heart racing. He didn’t mean…the relationship? Your eyes sting from holding back your tears. 

“You’re trying to—I mean I don’t want this right now. Not after I pressured you into telling me what was wrong. If you don’t want me touching you, right now…it’s okay.” 

“I do, I do want you to touch me. I-I cooked all afternoon because I’m too stupid to figure out how to just tell you with words. I miss you,” you pause, catching your breath. “I miss you and I love you. I love you so much.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

You frown. “But—”

“You aren’t stupid.” Oh, that. “It’s okay to feel a little down about yourself sometimes. I-I struggle with that, too. Just…talk to me about it, yeah? I just…I want you to tell me so I know…I know you’re okay.” Your tears finally break free, all the tension leaving your body as he speaks. “So I can tell you how beautiful you are to me,” he finishes. 

You struggle to speak, overwhelmed. Finally you manage to gasp out, “I’m sorry.” 

He pulls you into his chest, hand moving up your back to rub gentle circles. Much like you’d done for him earlier. “You’re okay. We’re okay. I know it’s hard,” he soothes. 

“I didn’t realise at first, I-I was distracted. I didn’t realise I was pushing you away.” 

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t need to say anything else. I got you.” 

You pull back from where your head rests against his shoulder, looking into his eyes again. “You believe me though, don’t you? You know I love you. You said… earlier you said—”

“I know,” he whispers, “You might not have touched me much recently but… you showed me you love me in your own ways.”

“I did?” 

“Mm, you never stopped making me breakfast, or putting my towel in the dryer for me while I showered,” he smiles. “Even asking me how my day was, you never miss a day. I was waiting for you to tell me what was wrong. I just…I had a hard day and I…usually when I have a day like today I can come home and hold you. I just—I needed you today and I let it overwhelm me. Then I thought I’d pressured you into telling me when you werent ready…” He runs his hands up and down your arms. “...into touching me when you weren’t ready.” 

“I am ready,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his again. This time he’s responsive, his hand coming to rest at the back of your neck so he can guide you. You can taste his toothpaste and a little saltiness from your tears. 

“You sure?” he mutters between kisses. 

“Mm, sure,” you answer, pushing him onto his back. He lifts your nightgown up as you kiss him, forcing you to pull away for a second so he can pull it over your head. He pulls you down against his bare chest, skin to skin. 

His arms are wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him. He mutters into your mouth, “Feel you…feel…more…” He sounds desperate, like he’s finally let go of whatever he was holding back. Some of the guilt seeps back in. 

“I love you,” you tell him again. He moans into your mouth as he his hips lift off the bed a little, grinding up into you. You weren’t used to having him underneath you like this. He usually liked being on top, hovering over you as he filled you. Apparently that wasn’t what he needed right now, he was making no attempt to change positions. He just keeps grinding up into you, muttering into your mouth as he works himself up. 

You attempt to pull back a little so you can reach down and help him take his sweats off. He holds tight, trapping you against him. “Just for a second,” you whisper against his lips. He shakes his head, reaching down to free his cock from his waistband—not bothering to pull his pants down anymore than he has to. He aligns himself up against you then resumes his grinding, his bare cock brushing up and down your cunt with his desperate movements. 

Usually, you’d tease him for being so needy. But right now, you just want him to feel good. He deserves to feel good. So you press your lips to his neck and let him hold you tight, let him take what he needs. It isn’t until he’s practically panting that you take some control, pushing up a little so you can reach back and guide him to your entrance. He looks completely out of it, like he could have just kept fucking himself against you and wanted for nothing else in the world. You watch his face as you push back against him, his tip pressing inside slowly. You want to savour it, having been without him for so long. You barely get half way down his cock before he pulls you back down against him and thrusts all the way in. 

You gasp, breath knocked from your lungs at the sudden fullness. He’s still, one hand coming to hold the back of your head. “Alright?” he asks, sounding equally breathless. 

“Mm,” is all you can offer him for now, focused on the way he’s stretching you—how it feels to have him this close to you again. He’s only still for a few more moments and then his hands move to grip your hips, giving him the leverage his needs to begin fucking up into you—desperate again. 

“Missed you,” he breathes out, practically panting as he pulls you up and down his cock to meet his thrusts. 

You want to tell him you missed him too, that you love him so much, that you’re sorry for pushing him away—but you can’t. You can’t speak, or think. You’re just feeling. The feeling of his hands gripping your hips, his breath against your mouth, his cock fucking you full.

“So perfect,” he mutters, pressing a messy kiss to your mouth—both of you too fucked out to attempt anything other than messy and desperate. His words sink deep into you, knowing that at this moment he’s really just saying whatever comes into his head. That he means it. You attempt to catch your breath, to focus on getting the words out you need to tell him—but then he fucks into at an angle that makes you blank. You collapse, head falling into his neck as you whine. He keeps fucking into you as you come down from your high.

“Got you,” he pants, “Gonna—Gonna fill you.” He pulls you down hard, cock buried deep inside as you feel him lose himself—his deep groan filling the room. It’s messy, his cum spilling from you as he pulls himself free just to fuck his tip back into you again. He whines as he overstimulates himself, cock slipping through your folds as he grinds against you a little again.

When he finally stills, you expect him to relax—for his arms to loosen around you. They don’t. He holds you tight as you both catch your breath, like he’s afraid you’ll just get up and leave him. You lift your arms up to slip under his neck, silently reassuring him. You’re staying. He loosens his hold a little, muscles relaxing. 

“Think you’re perfect, too,” you say, finally. “I need you, even when I was pushing you away, I needed you.” You lift your head to meet his eyes. His cheeks are red, his hair sticks to his forehead. You pull one hand from behind his neck so you can brush it aside. 

He smiles, one of his full smiles—dimples making a welcome appearance. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

[daddyricsdoll]

The guy coming home to me ✭ Carlos Sainz

Summary: Investing in a F1 team in the middle of your worldwide tour was very outrageous and threw many questions at you. But of course they didn't know that you happened to date one of the drivers in the team, until a concert in Singapore.

Warnings: None, I know it's so different of me.

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: Based off of this request.

You try to ignore all the camera’s that surround you, never getting a break whether you're picking up groceries or attending a big sports event. The voices behind the camera’s ask you questions that all revolve around the same thing– Your new sponsorship with Scuderia Ferrari F1 team.

It had come as a surprise to nearly everyone as you were halfway through your worldwide tour and decided to shake hands with a team in a sport you secretly loved. But they didn’t know that, and they also didn’t know about your months-long relationship with Carlos Sainz, one of the two drivers for the team. 

The week of the Singapore Grand Prix had started and you had meticulously planned your concert in the same country and city as one of your favourite races.

So on the Thursday in which all the drivers did media work you sat in a stadium counting the hours until you could do what you love, with the person you love in the same premises. As you received free paddock passes they received concert tickets and tonight happened to be the day everything lined up.

It was a coincidence to people that glanced, but the ones that stared could have noticed it was more. Probably from the times I went to races and interacted with many people but disappeared with a specific someone or when my attention couldn’t be divided between both Ferrari drivers and stuck to one. The one with dark brunette hair and eyes that glisten the same colour. Full and plump lips that I enjoy against mine, compliment his smooth accent and delicate fingers that can show rough. 

Apparently Carlos had been scrutinised about it as well, but listening to his P.R had paid off and he slid out of the situation easily. Therefore when you asked him to attend one of your concerts he accepted but with the company of a few of his fellow drivers. It was under one hour until you were to get on stage and the driver’s decided to give you a little good luck. You greeted them all with hugs, one lasting longer than others but they didn’t notice.

“You gonna do something special for us?” Lando asks jokingly. 

“You gonna get a podium?” You ask in the same tone and manage to gain a chuckle from him. 

You have to cut your conversations short and run off for final costume and makeup touch ups before making your way on stage. But not without Carlos sneaking his way through and wishing you a more personal good luck. He captures your lips in his and then mutter’s a few words against your skin. “Good luck Cariño, but I already know you’re gonna do great.” And in the time he leaves to get seated you stand at the back of the stage waiting for your queue. 

It makes you beam at how the crowd screams when they capture your silhouette and even  better when you actually emerge on stage. Through every song, you catch a glimpse of Carlos, his eyes always on you. 

As it edges closer into the night you realise how fast time has gone by, in which you have reached your last song of this warm night–Karma. You put all of your last energy into this song moving from one end of the stage to the other.

As you reach the near end of the bridge you make your way to the end of the stage with your eyes stuck on Carlos’ it was more than obvious. “Karma is the guy on the tracks, coming straight home to me.” You point at him with a proud smile as red and yellow fireworks emit into the sky accompanied by the same colours of confetti and lights.

You continue singing but can’t hold back your laughter as the faces of everyone in the stadium alter, especially the drivers. They all start shouting and bunch around Carlos with wide grins on their faces, including hints of curiosity. Through the crowd you manage to catch a glance of Carlos and you couldn’t be happier with the expression he wears. His big smile as his friends jump around him and confetti covers them all. He catches your eye and mouths “te amo”, you mouth it back and let out a content sigh, happy that he is the guy coming home to you.

[dreamofbetterthings]

No Regrets Noah Sebastian x Reader

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

VIP: Noah Sebastian

Band: Ban Omens

Summary: There's no such thing as a "calm" Halloween night, especially when hidden feelings are involved.

Warnings: It's gonna be a little spicy, but not full-on smut. Still, this is 18+ due to descriptive language and some curse words scattered about, so minors, please DNI. 

A/N

Hello everybody! I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth. I have an abundance of things going on in my personal life and I am trying my hardest to get through it all. I know in the last post I said chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time was coming soon. That wasn't a lie. It is still in the process of being edited. I'm working on a new uploading schedule for you guys, and a page redesign as well so if everything pans out the way I'm hoping, it will be put into effect starting next week. In the meantime, I have a couple of stories I'm planning on getting out before Chapter 3 gets released. This turned out a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, but I had an idea and ran with it. I've never written for Bad Omens before, so let me know what you think. Enjoy!

This is a fictional story about real-life people. Nothing that is mentioned in the story below represents who said individuals are, or how they act in real life.

Halloween night was always your favorite time to be around certain people, specifically the friends you called Motionless in White and Bad Omens. There was always something up their sleeve to turn the normal night into one that you weren't sure you wanted to remember in the morning. Luckily, tonight was the annual hangout at Chris' house this year, and you couldn't be more excited. Every year you all would get together at someone's house and pass out candy to the kids, then watch a couple of movies after the last stragglers came through. After that, came your favorite part of the night, Hide and Seek. It might seem childish, but watching a bunch of tipsy/drunk people try to stay quiet in a hiding spot was always hilarious.

 You were making another batch of popcorn when Chris walked into the kitchen. "Hey, we just put on The Lost Boys, just thought I'd let you know." You smile. "I'm not surprised. That's almost everybody's favorite." He laughs and grabs another bowl from the cabinet. "I know, that's why we put it on first, so nobody can complain about it later." The timer on the microwave went off signaling that the popcorn was finished, and you carefully took the bag out. You gave Chris the cooling-down bag and picked back up the one you set on the counter before he walked in. After emptying them and grabbing extra napkins, Chris brought the popcorn out to your friends who were talking through muffled and hushed whispers. Before you walked back into the room, he pulled you back for a second to whisper something in your ear. "I pulled the seeker for tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn't you. Maybe next year." You pout and then smile "Fuck, I'm never going to get picked." He laughs as you glanced around at everybody scattered in the room. 

Ryan sat with Justin on the loveseat. Folio was a drama queen and insisted he get his own seat. Nicholas, Vinny, and a few other of your friends, Florence, Nicole, Victoria, and Robert who were invited sat around the coffee table on the floor. Ricky, Jolly, and Noah were on the couch. Then, you and Chris got the two giant bean bags in the corner. The lights were changed to red and the TV just started the opening credits to The Lost Boys. You and Chris give the popcorn to Ricky and Nicholas respectively, everybody else having their own mostly full bowls, and grab your drinks before plopping back down on the bean bags. Folio rubs his hands together and smiles. "Now that our final two goofballs are here, who's ready to watch one of the best horror movies ever made?" Everybody gives some form of yes or a holler, and he immediately turns the volume up. As the movie plays, there is a small conversation here and there, and occasionally someone has to get up for a new drink, but you are relaxed and having fun. 

At about the halfway point of the movie, Noah gets up to get another drink from the fridge. On his way back, Jolly scares him, causing his wine to spill all over the floor and your sweatpants. "Jesus man!" The movie is paused and everyone's attention is on you guys. Jolly laughs and puts his hands up in defense. "Sorry dude, I had to scare you at least once today." He turns to look at you. "Didn't mean to ruin your sweatpants though, my bad." You wave him off. "It's no big deal, these were old anyway. You guys can keep the movie playing. I'm just gonna change into different pants real quick." You take a sip of your drink and get up from your spot to go upstairs. 

After finding your weekend bag, you huff as the extra sweatpants are nowhere to be found. Instead, you pull out a pair of spandex volleyball shorts and go to the bathroom. Noah hears the sink running upstairs as he's cleaning up the accidental mess he made by your spot. He throws the paper towels away and before he gets to the stairs, Chris quietly asks "You good?" He nods, telling the other singer he's going to make sure you're okay, and heads to your bathroom. He knocks a few times and after a couple of seconds, the sink cuts off and you open the door. You were expecting one of your girlfriends to be standing there, but instead, it's Noah. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm sorry about spilling on your sweats. I hope I didn't ruin them." Holding up the pants, you show him where the stain had previously been. "If these sweats can make it through one of your tours, they can certainly handle a little bit of wine. I just didn't want them to stain, since you drink the darker stuff." He chuckles and follows you back into the bedroom. 

You grab your shorts and get ready to put them on, but Noah points to your leg. "I didn't know you had a thigh tattoo." You glance at it and glance at him confused. "Really? I got it a while ago. I could've sworn I showed you when I got it done. Then again, I'm always in longer shorts, so it's not exactly easy to see." Setting them down, you turn to the side and pull part of your underwear band up, showing the last covered part of the tattoo. Looking up at Noah, you can see he's staring, but there's something else behind his eyes. Just not sure what it is though. You don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, but your skin gets goosebumps as his fingers ever so lightly trace over the ink on your leg. Everybody that came over tonight had seen each other in their undergarments or even completely nude before, whether by accident or on purpose. Hell, you've walked in on him changing plenty of times. 

So why did the room suddenly feel hot? 

It could be that you've had a crush on the man since you were kids. There wasn't anything not to like. His personality just made you want to be around him all the time. He's sweet and kind, and has a terrible sense of humor that only you two get. You could go on and on. He was just an all-around amazing person. You were so caught up in your thoughts, that you missed the hand that was snapping in front of your face. "Hello? Are you there?" Coming back to reality, you saw Noah looking down at you with curiosity. You quickly apologized and asked him to repeat what he said. "I said it looks amazing on you. The placement is perfect and it works great with the curves of your leg." You thank him and can't help but notice just how close he's standing to you. There's a tense silence for a couple of moments, and neither of you moves from your spot. You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, but immediately looked away. 

It felt like you were a school girl again, talking to the guy you've had a crush on for ages. You heard him mumble a "Fuck it" before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and tasted like wine, courtesy of the drink that led you here in the first place. You felt his hand move to rest against your cheek. His lips were gentle, almost as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it would never happen again. When the two of you finally pulled away for air, your eyes remained closed for a moment, before slowly opening them and meeting Noah's. The two of you looked at each other in pure awe before you let out a small "Woah" He laughed, and you looked down, feeling your cheeks become hot.

The thought of you being so flustered made him blush too. How was it possible for someone to be this cute? Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you almost couldn't comprehend what just happened. "You know, for someone that always complained he was a terrible kisser, that was uh, really impressive." He could feel you now completely relaxed against him and he laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. "I'd say that I've had practice, but you already know my teddy bear in fifth grade doesn't count." The two of you laugh. Remembering his hand resting on your cheek, you look away and take a small step back. "I think we should get back to the movie. It's gotta be almost over by now, and I don't want them to yell at us for taking too long." He let out an uncomfortable laugh and muttered a "Yeah." 

You never noticed but Noah frowned slightly when you pulled away from him. He felt so comfortable being that close to you. As you turned to the door he realized something. He really liked you and didn't want this to be just a one-time thing, especially if it was going to make things weird between you afterward. He picks himself out of his thoughts just as you open the door. He walks across the room, taking your hand and silently closing the door. Standing there surprised, you ask him, "Are you okay?" It was now or never he told himself. "I'm sorry, I just..." He takes a breath before continuing. "I really want to kiss you again." You stand there just as surprised but decide to see just how far this could possibly go. "What's the problem then?" He lets go of your hand and brings his own up to hold your face. Pressing his forehead against yours, he whispers. 

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop." 

He obviously likes you, right? But this is your best friend. You've known each other for years. If he did like you this much, he would've told you by now, right? You two have been affectionate towards each other before, but there's a line neither of you dared to cross. If you crossed it now, you would rather do it with no regrets. It was better than wondering what could have been. "What if I don't want you to stop?" Noah tilts your head so you're looking him in the eyes. 

"Then I won't." 

He pushes his lips against you again, this time with newfound hunger. His hands fall and grab at your waist while yours go around his neck. Your feet follow his backward and you hit the edge of the bed. He pulls you down to sit on his lap, completely forgetting your lack of pants while he pushes himself further back on the bed. His tongue runs across your bottom lip and you open your mouth allowing him in. Your hands gently tug at the now-cut-short hair on the back of his neck and he grabs at your hip hard enough to leave bruises before pulling you even closer to him. Shifting your weight a little, your lower half sits directly on his hardening cock and he groans into your mouth. He pulls his lips away only for them to move down your neck. You tug at his hair a little harder and he sucks at the tender skin that connects your neck and shoulder. A moan leaves your lips and you mindlessly grind down against him. There was nothing that could prepare you for how right this felt. Like you were seeing a whole different side of him, hidden from the outside world, and for your eyes only.

Noah moved to whisper in your ear. "Quiet baby, wouldn't want everybody to hear us, hmm?" You shake your head no, but it doesn't matter as he kisses you again. "Hey, are you guys-OH MY GOD!" The bedroom door opens to see a shocked Chris looking at the two of you. Noah pulls away from your mouth, and the two of you look like deer in headlights. "I'm going to go... quickly." Chris walks away, before coming back and closing the door. You and Noah make eye contact for a split second, before the two of you look away, slightly embarrassed that you were caught. "Maybe we should go back before someone comes in again." He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Carefully getting off of him, you stand up and let him off the bed. You both straighten out your respective clothes, and you finally put on those shorts. 

"Are you alright?" He nods and you get ready to walk toward the door. Noah runs his fingers through his hair. "Um, Before we go, I just wanted to ask...You don't regret any of what just happened, right?" You immediately shake your head no, slightly frowning. Maybe this was all a big mistake. "Not at all. Why? Do you?" He smiles and also shakes his head no before taking your hand in his. "Nope. No regrets." A smile replaces the frown on your face. You ask "Are you ready for them to never let us live this down?" He laughs and glances at the door. "That doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me." Giving him a nod, he opens the door and the two of you walk back into the living room where the rest of your friend group is talking amongst themselves. When they hear you guys walk in, it gets silent. Noah lets go of your hand so you can sit down first, and then goes to his spot on the couch. 

Nobody said anything for the first couple of moments before Chris broke the silence. "You guys fucked in my spare bedroom..." Instantly you and Noah sat up and shook your heads. Your voice and his overlapped and both of you tried to tell your friends that technically nothing happened. Once the two of you were finished explaining, the room was silent for another couple of moments before anyone spoke. The silence was starting to make you uncomfortable, but before you could say or do anything, Ryan threw his hands up and yelled. "Fucking finally!" This breaks the tension in the room and everybody starts laughing and giving you and Noah happy looks. You even saw a couple of people passing money around. Those fuckers bet on you and Noah getting together. When the commotion has died down, another movie has started, and everybody turns their attention to the TV. As you focus your attention on the screen, your phone buzzes, and you pick it up. 

Noah

"I was thinking later we could finish what we started in the spare bedroom?"

You smile at your phone and quickly respond before setting it down.

"Well, we're still playing Hide and Seek after the movie. I'm once again not the seeker, lol. If it happens to be you, don't go easy on me. Depending on how the rest of the night plays out, you might get your wish ;)"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Noah readjust himself in his seat. He sends back a text almost instantly, and goosebumps litter your skin again as you read his last text.

Noah

"Oh, I won't. I like the hunt."

Nope, no regrets.

[delzinrowe]

Love Letter - TAKUMA INO

WORD COUNT: ~5.1K WARNINGS: None. F!Reader SUMMARY: Y/N receives a love letter, sadly the sender wasn't very specific when he signed it. A/N: Silly little brainrot I had months ago. Took me ages to actually finish this. Feedback is always appreciated!! Let me know if you wanna be tagged. TAGGING @just-jordie-things CAUSE I GOT BACK INTO WRITING BECAUSE OF HER, SHE'S AMAZING ♡♡♡

Another day filled with lessons of an unusual kind passed by. Gojo-Sensei was a good and devoted teacher, but everyone agreed that his teaching methods sometimes were a little… unorthodox, for lack of a better word. He tends to throw students into dangerous situations to fend for themselves instead of preparing them for it beforehand.

Y/N was just happy that she had her student days behind her. Now she was a semi-grade 1 sorcerer. After graduating from Jujutsu High she slowly but surely worked her way up the ranks and earned the respect of her fellow sorcerers, one of which was Ino Takuma, who seemed to be just as impressed by her as he was by his mentor Nanami Kento.

Whenever she wasn’t on a mission Y/N used the time to train, either by herself, with Takuma or with some of the younger students. Which was exactly what happened right now. For the past hours she had exchanged blows with each of them, successfully winning every fight. Until Maki decided to challenge her. Without any ounce of cursed energy she was supposed to be an easy target, but exactly this made her all the more dangerous in close range.

She stood opposite of Maki, wearing a smile on her lips and chuckling a little. Even after losing their training fight there was not an ounce of bitterness within her. Maki was an astonishing fighter, she was more skilled and talented in hand-to-hand combat than any of the other students.

Due to her lack of cursed energy she focused entirely on close range combat, allowing her to win the fight swiftly. No doubt that Yuji would still smoke her in terms of raw strength, but Maki was no way inferior to any of them.

“You’re gonna raise hell some day, Maki.” Y/N never made a secret out of her adoration and pride for the young ostracized Zenin. If it had been anyone else Maki would have rolled her eyes and shrugged off the praising compliment, but Y/N was one of the few people she held in high regards, therefore her words meant a lot to the second year student.

Knowing that someone as strong as Y/N acknowledged her strength and even believed in her so strongly meant a lot to her, even if she would rather die a gruesome death than ever admit this to anyone.

“I’m working on it.”

Maki’s witty comeback earned another chuckle from Y/N. Truth be told, she was immensely proud of the young student. When she herself enrolled into Jujutsu High she was surrounded by all these amazing young sorcerers and even her teachers were fascinatingly strong. It often caused her to feel left out, as if she was merely a candle in the wind with everyone around her being raging wildfires, rapidly increasing with each passing day.

Back then Takuma was the only person who showed her acknowledgement, who openly told her that he believed she’d be destined for amazing and great things. Thinking back on it now, it might have been this exact moment her crush developed. She wanted to prove him right, that she was capable of whatever life as sorcerer threw at her.

Ultimately, she knew the pain of being left out, of not being believed in, of feeling far too weak. She wouldn’t allow anyone to feel like that, especially not someone like Maki, who was so willing and determined to prove herself.

Y/N only responded with a nod and a smile before turning around to gather her things. All too suddenly she halted her movements, her eyes squinting at the piece of white paper she spotted on the dark piece of clothing.

Right there, at the edge of the training grounds, in her lazily discarded jacket, stuck a letter, folded into a tiny rectangle. It certainly wasn’t there before. She would have remembered anyone messing with her clothes during the training. Whoever it was must have used the chance to leave the paper when she had her back turned. Or maybe when Maki successfully threw her onto her back…

However, that didn’t matter now, what mattered most to Y/N in this instant was the tiny rectangle. 

Curiously, and with careful touches, she reached for the paper and slowly unfolded it. Her eyes scanned over the lines written on it. The first thing she noticed was the handwriting itself. It wasn’t neat, but it was far from messy. It seemed almost as if someone tried to conceal their handwriting. Something else she noticed was that it was a blank paper, no lines or squares, yet the short sentences made it seem as if there had been invisible lines.

Whoever wrote this note went through the trouble of using an undersheet to keep the perfect lines intact. The level of detail for one simple note was astonishing. 

It took Y/N a few good moments of skimping over the words before she even realized what the letter said.

It was… a love letter.

Never in her life did Y/N think she’d receive one of those, let alone an anonymous one, only signed with initials, but there’s got to be a first time for everything, right?

Her gaze was fixated on the paper, as if it put a spell on her. The few lines were filled with sweet adoration, even bringing a smile to her lips until her eyes found the initials T.I..

Y/N still stood in the middle of the training grounds but she suddenly didn’t notice anything around her anymore. Her thoughts were now fully engulfed by the two letters that sent her mind into a haze. Who the hell was T.I.?

Bombs and missiles could have detonated right in front of her, nonetheless, nothing would have managed to tear her attention away from her thoughts going on a rampage.

Seconds passed, turning into minutes as Y/N kept on thinking about the initials but she couldn’t come up with anything. Even if she turned the letters around no one came to her mind. No one seemed to fit, until a certain image popped up in her thoughts. And suddenly the need for a written letter made much more sense to her.

<--With a suspicion now in mind, she set out to find her best friend, hoping to get a different perspective on the entire matter. Maybe he’d even have some advice ready for her to handle this entire situation. It surely would help her to at least get a male opinion on this. That is… if her best friend Takuma would even have an opinion on it at all. -->

“Do you have any idea who T.I. could be?” 

Immediately after finding Takuma she spilled everything about the letter she received. It took him a good few minutes to get her to slow down but once he realized what she was on about his lips curled into a little smile, not too big to get caught but just enough to seem like his usual self. Even if he was a nervous bundle of anxiety inside.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it, ‘Kuma?” This was it. The moment he was waiting for.

He was the one who left the letter in her jacket during training. She’d confront him and after hearing his cheesy confession she’d admit to always having had a crush on him as well, and the two would kiss and be the dream couple everyone would envy.

…At least that’s how he pictured it in his head.

“It must be Toge Inumaki. I can’t think of anyone else, to be honest.” Y/N crossed her arms in front of her chest, the letter still clutched in between her thumb and her fingers, as she gave an expectant look towards her friend, not knowing that his heart secretly deflated at her words.

Takuma tried his hardest not to show his thoughts all too clearly on his face. Usually, he was the personification of bubbly, open and unfiltered, blurting out the first things on his mind without really thinking of his words first. But this time he had to bite his own tongue to stop himself from speaking too quickly. 

Why did she not realize that it was him who wrote that note? Then again, why did he have to sign it with his initials only? Was he really that stupid? Of course, there were other people with the same initials as him, he should have thought of this beforehand.

Or perhaps the fact that she instantly assumed it to be someone else meant that maybe she wanted it to be someone else? Did she believe Toge wrote the note because she wished that it was from him? Had her heart already been snatched by someone?

The possibility of it felt like a gut punch to Takuma. A few minutes ago he felt happy, expecting this moment to turn into the sweetest one of his life. However, by now his chest felt tightened, as if someone had reached down his throat and crushed his heart with bare hands, while simultaneously smacking the air out of his lungs.

This had got to be one of the worst moments of his life. He got rejected, indirectly at least, and in one of the worst ways too.

“If you think it’s him, then ask him about it.” The words were followed by a shrug of his shoulders, he tried so desperately to seem indifferent enough towards this. Of course, he didn’t want her to think that this entire topic didn’t matter to him, it did. More than she even knew. But she was smart and if he acted out of character now then she’d be onto him instantly. 

Y/N let out a deep sigh, uncrossing her arms and letting them drop to her sides. As calm as she seemed, her mind was a mess. Why did she have to receive a letter like this? Anonymous with only initials to make her guess.

“Yeah sure, and what do I even say to him?” She asked with a hint of hopelessness, shrugging her shoulders lightly.

“That depends on whether you like him or not.” Takuma kept his posture, speaking in a tone that was usual for him. Or wasn’t it? He tried way too hard to appear like his normal self that he started to overthink his actions, words and even the tone he used. Did he talk like this any other day?

“I guess so.” Her response, paired with the deep sigh she let out and her sinking shoulders were a clear sign of defeat. She didn’t seem suspicious of him. Good, he had played his role well. Now he just needed to keep it up a little longer.

Eventually Y/N’s chat with her best friend offered no real help or conclusion, besides the obvious ‘talk to him directly. It was a piece of advice she didn’t need, considering it was apparent inside her own mind ever since she successfully deciphered the sender of the note.

She dreaded the encounter with Toge. She didn’t want to break the young student’s heart. Why did it have to be so uncomfortable and painful when friends caught feelings? How she wished for the ground to simply swallow her whole right at this moment.

Alas, there was no way around it. No matter how much Y/N tried to think of a different solution, she had to be direct and honest with Toge. He deserved that much.

Seconds passed and neither Takuma nor Y/N said anything. For Takuma the heavy tension in the air seemed almost unbearable. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, wanting so desperately to confess to being the real author of the note. But he figuratively bit his own tongue to stay silent. It felt obvious enough to him that she wasn’t reciprocating his feelings.

On the other hand, Y/N felt a thick tension for different reasons. She dreaded the encounter with Toge, no matter how much she knew that it was necessary to clear the air. A feeling of unease and anxiety spread through her stomach and she took a few deep breaths, releasing the last one as a deep sigh.

“I should talk to him right now.” For a moment she glanced at Takuma before her gaze shifted towards the letter she still held tightly. There was nothing else to say or do, anything she’d come up with now would only prolong the much needed conversation.

“Good luck.” Takuma’s short nod was met with a grimace from Y/N, followed by quiet short noise that could only be described as a whine.

Just for a fraction of a moment he forgot the aching pain in his chest. Goddamn, why did she look so cute right now? It took all his willpower to keep his mouth shut when inside him everything was screaming at him to just be honest.

“Thanks.”

Without any further ado she turned on her heel. Even if she didn’t know where to find Toge, she was sure that eventually she’d run into him. Maybe she could think of the right things to say until then.

Takuma’s gaze followed her until she was out of sight. The second grace sorcerer wasn’t a coward or shy by any means, he was brave and courageous. So why couldn’t he just walk up to her and confess, like he had thought about so many times? Why did he settle to write a letter and leave it in her jacket like some clumsy lovesick teenager?

In an instant he froze in place, his eyes wide in shock as the realization hit him like a jolt of electricity. As soon as Y/N confronted Toge she’d find out that the letter wasn’t actually  from him. His heart had started pounding and he felt paralyzed when he realized the extensive consequences of her finding out. Their entire friendship would shift and become awkward. In the worst case it might even end he’d lose his best friend.

He had to follow Y/N and ‘accidentally’ interrupt her encounter with Toge before the blonde student could expose his secret crush on his best friend.

For an experienced high grade sorcerer Y/N was far too immersed in her thoughts to realize that for the past half hour she had been followed by Takuma. He didn’t even have to use any cursed energy to be as stealthy as possible. She was too occupied with her search for the blonde student to notice him either way.

Well, she didn’t actively search for Toge, no. She dreaded this upcoming conversation more than anything else. Instead, she simply wandered around the school grounds as casually as she could. Eventually she’d find him, wouldn’t she?

She had already given up on thinking of what to say, nothing seemed good or fitting. With a nervous feeling in her gut she decided to just wing it and come up with anything she’d say on the spot.

Just when Y/N was about to call it quits and chicken out of this entire situation she saw Toge walking a little bit further away from her current position. After suppressing another unmotivated whine she took deep breaths to calm her nerves before approaching him.

“Hey, Toge!” She tried not to sound too loud with her yell as she ran up to the blonde student, who turned around towards her and greeted her with a hand sign, as per usual paired with a quiet: “Kelp.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Y/N’s head was tilted a little and a somewhat awkward smile appeared on her face. Damnit. She tried so hard to act normal but she had only ever been in this situation two or three times before. Rejecting someone was hard on its own, but even worse when it was a good friend. How would she even start?

Instead of saying any of his safe words Toge opted to not say anything as he only raised his eyebrows. A silent sign that she had his attention and a gesture for her to keep talking.

“The letter you sent me… it was really nice, but…” As much as Y/N tried to find the right words, it resulted in her sounding uncertain. Hopefully this wouldn’t cause their friendship to get awkward.

The more she tried to construct a coherent sentence, the less she was actually able to speak properly. The nervousness that surged through her body felt almost paralyzing, even more so than the uncomfortable silence that hung between them. But she had to say something. She couldn’t give Toge any false hope. He didn’t deserve that.

“I don’t like you like that, I’m sorry.”

If Y/N had the courage to look up right now she would have seen the confused expression on Toge’s face as he tried desperately to make sense of this whole situation. However, her gaze was just about anywhere else, focusing on invisible dots, as to not look at him directly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, but with the limited vocabulary available to him he decided to simply agree with it and call it a day. Whatever this was about would surely resolve on its own. For him there was no need to stress about something he didn’t fully grasp either way.

“Salmon.” With that Toge nodded his head, conveying his understanding, even if it was merely an act.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, and I hope we can stay friends.” Even though Y/N harbored no romantic feelings for the short blonde student, rejecting a friend was always a gut-wrenching experience. It was something she hated, even if it had thankfully only happened very few times. The anguish of having to turn down someone she was close with always hung above the friendship, similar to the damning dropping chandelier in Phantom of the Opera. At one point it might crash and reduce the remaining friendship to rubble and dust.

Although this didn’t seem to be the case with Toge, he took the rejection like a champ. If Y/N hadn’t been too overwhelmed by this situation she might have realized that Toge even seemed a little too chill about getting rejected. But her mind was elsewhere, involuntarily drifting to the young sorcerer who was now hiding behind a wall, listening in on their conversation.

Toge hadn’t exposed him, he took the rejection and went with it. Yet, for some reason it caused Takuma to feel twisted. Y/N didn’t even think of him when she received the letter, and now she had officially rejected ‘T.I.’, which made it practically impossible to send her another note. He should have just gathered his courage and confessed when he had the chance.

“Salmon Roe.” Two words was enough to pull Y/N and Takuma out of their thoughts and bring them back to the present. She only nodded in an effort to ease the awkward tension between them, even if she was the only one that felt it.

Toge pointed towards his dorm rooms, not even attempting to say anything else before lifting his hand in the air to wave goodbye as he left Y/N on her own. Her thoughts were racing and her heart pounded in her chest. The conversation had gone smooth (more or less) and Toge took the rejection well. Hopefully this wouldn’t have any awkward consequences in their friendship. 

Meanwhile Takuma leaned against the wall he was hiding behind, nervousness filling his stomach. He should get out of here, leave before she noticed that he had followed her.

His palms were sweaty, his heart beating so fast and hard that it threatened to burst out of his chest. His head leaned against the surface of the concrete as his eyes were closed. If he already felt like this when he was just hiding behind a wall then how was he ever gonna face her and confess? He, the usually cool, calm and collected auspicious beasts’ user, was undoubtedly a coward. 

“‘Kuma?” Y/N’s voice rang in his ears, instantly his eyes widened. Instantly he cursed himself for not disappearing sooner. Now it was too late for that, if he attempted to leave now she’d just follow and question him.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was, understandably, laced with confusion. Had he listened to the entire conversation she had with Toge? Why would he even care about it?

“Hey.” It was the most awkward and stupidest he had ever sounded as he dragged out the one word greeting. He wanted to disappear right now, vanish into thin air never to be seen again.

When he didn’t say anything she lifted her head forward just a bit and raised her eyebrows expectantly, urging him to continue with her sharp gaze. Oh, how he scolded himself internally at this very moment.

“I’m just here for emotional support…” The way the words came out of his mouth seemed more like a question instead of an answer to her initial inquiry.  If there was ever an award for the worst lie, Takuma would receive it without any close competition. Even without this dead giveaway Y/N would have known that something was foul.

“Would you just spit it out?” Gone was the nervousness she felt just moments ago during her conversation with Toge. Now she was aggravated and irritated at his unusual behavior. It must have been connected to the love note, but she couldn’t come up with any reason why.

As Y/N was still waiting for his response, Takuma felt the sinking realization that he wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without coming clean about the love letter. The weight on his chest grew heavier, his heart pounded louder, the beating rang in his ears. He wiped his hands on his pants, rather pathetically as they kept on sweating. Had he ever been this fucking nervous prior to this moment? He couldn’t remember.

Even after facing curse users, as well as encountering and successfully exorcizing countless curses, and finding himself in the most dangerous situations, he couldn’t remember ever feeling this uneasy in his entire life.

The silence between them remained for what felt like an eternity, but actually had only been about two minutes. Y/N knew that he heard her question loud and clear, there was no need to repeat it. Especially considering how nervous he appeared. Something was definitely wrong, but no matter how irritated or aggravated she was with him, she’d never pressure him. That simply wasn’t how their friendship worked.

Seconds felt like hours for Takuma but he knew he had to say something, and eventually, after taking multiple deep breaths, he finally overcame his uneasiness and forced himself to speak up.

“I’m T.I.”, as little as his words seemed, it had taken him immense courage to say them out loud.

“The letter… it’s from me.”

Y/N simply stared at him as he dropped this bomb of information on her. The thought of “T.I.” actually standing for Takuma Ino had never seriously crossed her mind. Even if for a split second she might have hoped for it, she had immediately dismissed it.

For as long as she had been friends with him he was never the type to write letters, especially love letters. She had known him long enough to learn his character inside out. He was blunt, but not brutal, open and unfiltered but never hostile. In short; he wasn’t someone who would hide behind an anonymous letter.

Or so she thought at least, which caused her thoughts to go into overdrive.

“You wrote that? Why? Did you think it’d be a funny joke? Is that why you didn’t say anything before and just let me make a fool out of myself in front of Toge?” Y/N asked suddenly, completely overwhelmed with this situation and clearly overthinking it.

Takuma knew that tone all too well, he was the one to calm her down more than just a few times, and while he was still nervous about this whole ordeal, he couldn’t watch how she doubted herself so much that she didn’t take his love letter seriously.

“No, it wasn’t a joke. Listen…”, for a moment he paused, his might searching for words as she took a step forward to her. He let out a deep sigh before he spoke up once more.

“I like you. Like… a whole lot. I’ve pretty much had a crush on you since forever. I don’t know what made me write a damn letter. I guess I was too much of a coward to tell you face to face.” Even though he had taken a step forward, he couldn’t look into her eyes. His averted gaze focused on an invisible point a few feet away.

“It’s not a joke, alright? I’m serious.” His heart hammered against his ribcage. This was the moment he didn’t want to experience.

Y/N was far too shocked to construct a proper sentence, the confession had taken her by full surprise. Neither of them dared to say anything but as the moments passed her lips curled into a smile that she tried to suppress. It was slowly setting in that this wasn’t a joke or a prank. Takuma seemed to be genuinely nervous, even anxious. Something she wasn’t used to seeing.

Furthermore, she had known him for quite some time and while he was a bit of a goof who liked to pull pranks, he never would have gone for something that could end up emotionally scarring someone.

Her heart went from racing twice as fast to skipping a beat all the way to pounding heavily inside her chest. It felt as if a fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her, the realization that the boy she had a crush on liked her back.

“And you’re really really serious?” She questioned quietly, her voice now lacking the previous panicky tone.

“More than anything.”

When he finally lifted his head again Takuma saw the smile on her lips. It was like a drug to him, instantly he returned it with a smile on his own, the uneasiness fading away and being replaced by a warm feeling that spread through his limbs.

“Good, cause I like you too.”

“You really do?” His mind struggled to believe that it was real, but the way she smiled shyly with this faint blush on her cheeks was all the proof he needed. And suddenly he’s floating from happiness.

Suddenly the anxiety he felt died down, and all the uneasiness disappeared from his body.

Y/N had no time to brace herself when all of a sudden his arms wrapped tightly around her frame, pulling her right into his warm chest. The closeness, paired with his familiar scent, felt like a dream to her.

Takuma didn’t need to say it, it was obvious that he was happier than ever about this development, but so was Y/N.

The two of them didn’t know how much time passed, could have been an hour, could have been an eternity. In reality it was closer to a few minutes, when he eventually loosened his hold and leaned back just enough to look at her. 

Y/N could have sworn she just fell much deeper for him when she saw his unusually flushed face. A sign so beautiful and handsome that she never wanted to look away. It was a sight she didn’t expect, and certainly something she never knew she needed to see until now.

“So… Can I kiss you?” Takuma asked, and Y/N swore he was still nervous, which caused her chest to feel even warmer. It was unlike him to not ooze confidence with every fiber of his being, however, knowing that she had this effect on him, even after both of them confessing, filled her with pride.

“I don’t know if you can, but you should.” She responded with a smirk, albeit with her cheeks so heated that she felt like a radiator. The chuckle that followed her words was cut short when his lips captured her own. Her giggle died down when she practically melted into the kiss.

It was a little messy and chaotic, but eventually they fell into a rhythm that felt just right in every way.

Her hands, which were still wrapped around his torso from their hug, grabbed his sweater tightly. Meanwhile her thoughts dissipated, leaving nothing else but the blissful happiness, and the fluttering butterflies in her stomach.

Everything was drowned out until a few seconds later when Takuma pulled away. As if she was magnetized by him she tried to follow his lips, leaning further into him just a few inches before regaining her composure. She opened her eyes but didn’t look at him right away. It was such a silly thing that she felt embarrassed for not wanting the kiss to end but at the same time she knew that from now on she could have kisses anytime she asked.

Her hands slowly let go of his sweater. A wave of uncertainty hit her but it was gone as quick as it arrived once she felt him reach for her wrist.

His hand found hers, and their fingers interlaced. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how natural and easy everything felt with him. Her heart might have raced like a sports car and rang in her ears like church bells but being with Takuma like this felt more natural and comfortable than she had ever imagined.

For a while it was quiet as the two of them simply started strolling around aimlessly on the school grounds. But there was one thing Y/N still wanted to address…

“You couldn’t come up with a better way to sign it then T.I.?”

“To be fair I didn’t think your first thought would be Riceball Guy.” He mumbled back and rolled his eyes, listening as her giggles turned into a short but warm laugh.

His eyes were glued to her, the corners of his lips subconsciously curling into the happiest grin he could possibly create.

They had no label yet but she was his girl, there was no doubt in his mind about it. She was hers even before he had even known it. And there was no way in hell that he’d ever let go of her.

[the-kr8tor]

Sparring with Hobie

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: They say opposites attract, but what happens when two people with similar attitudes attract each other? Will there be an explosion of identical energies or will they end up melding together in perfect harmony?

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller than her though), pre-relationship, Flirty and Confident! Reader, spider-woman! Reader. Lovestruck! Hobie. Suggestive content, FLUFF.

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My Masterlist

Hobie lumbers through the dim hallways of the society. The world outside is still slumbering, light snores coming from the many dorms of the building. His trainers squeak on the linoleum floors, a yawn escaping him. He's unable to fall asleep, the last mission brought back bad memories up to the surface. He blinks slowly, hands still aching from the fight.

His target is the training grounds, maybe some exercise and quick swinging will tire him out and distract him from his own thoughts. Finally reaching the double doors to the training area, instead of finding it devoid of human life, he finds you in your athletic clothes, bare arms in full display.

The bright lights from the holograms almost blind him, but your smile is more blinding than the blinking lights.

You stop stretching, grinning sweetly in his direction, eyes twinkling in the orange lights, skin glinting from sweat. Yet, He's never seen anyone look this good. He thinks he's unworthy of the sight.

“Hi, Hobie” your voice is smooth like velvet, he's suddenly conscious of the bags under his eyes. “What're you doing up, gorgeous?”

Gorgeous? Oh you're horrid. Hobie feels his heart beat faster and faster with every second that passes with your eyes staying on him. He turns into mush, he hopes you don't notice.

But of course he's not gonna let himself lose against you and your pretty eyes. Goddamnit, why does your eyes look like that? And why do you look like you're about to eat him up in one swift bite?

“What are you doin' up, lovie?” Hobie does his best at walking normally towards you, but how could he remember how to when you're smiling so sweetly at him? He leans against the console that he hopes looks extremely cool in your eyes.

You beam at him, hands tucked behind you like you're hiding a secret that you're just about to show him. “Touché, I couldn't sleep. You?”

He sighs, not from the late hour but from you staring deep into his eyes. Hobie knew he's met his match the moment you two met on one of the many dimensions, and one of the many variants of Morbius who tried to take a chunk out of you, who was met with a hefty amount of your foot on the villain’s face, fangs falling out of his mouth like dollar store dentures.

Hobie, after seeing you kick the would-be vampire, said something witty with hints of flirty undertones that he couldn't possibly remember because of your reply.

“You could bite me anytime, Spider-Man”

Hobie could only remember you, from your suave wink thrown at him to the way you're a shining beacon of hope against the backdrop of chaos committed by a villain who was clearly not a match for you.

You've left him speechless on that dirty rooftop, with only a quick ‘see you later!’ and a swing towards another villain. You were right, you did see him later, and then a few days later and then mere hours after that. For some reason after your fated meeting he finds it hard for him to miss your form amidst the crowd of spiderpeople.

He keeps seeing you around, sauntering the halls of the society like you own the place. With confidence of a woman that even Miguel would falter in your presence. The day he met you was months ago, yet you've still got him wrapped around your pinky. You two have grown accustomed to each other, a blooming friendship amidst the desire to be more than friends.

“Couldn't sleep either.” his voice almost cracks, he clears his throat to hide the almost mistake.

You hum in understanding, “Wanna spar then?”

“What do I get when I win?” He exudes the same amount of charm.

You chuckle, it's music to his ears. “If you win.” taking a step forward, your foot in between his feet, lashes fluttering, arms on his sides, trapping him in between the console and your body.

He stops breathing.

“Let's find out what your prize is then, shall we?” You press a button right near the small of his back, just when your finger is about to graze his shirt, you slide your hand away.

The holograms retract to the walls, leaving an empty space in the middle. The floor opens up, a circular mat emerges from the opening.

Leaning away, you continue to hold his gaze, walking to the mat in the middle of the floor.

Hobie can now breathe again.

“Come on, Spider-Man. Are you scared?” you step inside the circle, hands casually on your hips. Smirking at Hobie. “It's just me, Hobs. Nothing to be scared of”

“I once saw you dismantle Doc Ock's tentacles in one pull. But you're right, nothin’ to be scared of.” A twin smirk plays on his lips, walking towards the only one who causes his hands to shake.

You giggle, “It wasn't that impressive, it was just titanium is all.” Readying your stance, you make sure your feet are planted on the mat, hands raised to protect your face, never letting your gaze waver from the man who makes your heart flutter.

“You're the one who kicked earth-790’s vulture's ass within three minutes of him entering the dimension.” you compliment him, but your eyes are determined to show him what you've got.

“Nah, it was child's play” Hobie readies a more defensive stance, he knows how you fight after seeing you beat countless villains.

You're more on the defense, always protecting yourself first, biding your time for just the right opening to strike a hundred times harder than your opponent. So he'll do the same, if you can't beat them join them, right? He knows you're one of the best if not the best fighter in the society, Hobie knows he'll have a chance at defeating you, and possibly winning the bet, because he knows you.

He knows you well enough that you favor your right side when fighting, always leaning to the right, always throwing the first punch with your right knuckles. He knows what makes you laugh the hardest and what makes you tick. He knows your favourite day is Wednesday because that's when the cafeteria serves your favourite, and that's when he would always talk his way into the front line just so you could get it first.

He won't go easy on you because he knows you won't go easy on him.

“What do you say we do first blood or first one to yield?”

“First to yield, don't want to scrub your blood off the mats.” Hobie teases. You roll your eyes at his quip but you can't hide your smile.

“Let’s see how much you've improved from last time, handsome” you unknowingly throw him off his balance with the nickname.

“Whenever you're ready, love” he unintentionally does the same to you.

You stomp your foot once, signaling the training ai to start the sparring simulation. Bright red lights emerge from the circular line upwards, a barrier that bathes you both in its glow. A robotic voice counts down.

5

You furrow your brows in an attempt to stop yourself from ogling him.

4

Hobie swallows a lump in his throat, his mind lingering from the last time you trained together. The heat from the skin on skin contact.

3

With you above him breathing heavily, smiling triumphantly as you win for the third time.

2

He shakes his thoughts, concentrating on winning. Hobie wonders what he'll win when he finally gets the upper hand. Maybe another little adventure with you in your dimension perhaps?

1

No one moves after the buzzer.

You both observe each other, with every twitch of muscle, one would flick their eyes towards it, studying it whether or not the other would decide to be on the offensive. You take note of his better stance, a soft smile on your lips, knowing that you're the one who taught him that.

You start moving, circling him like a prey, eyes trained on Hobie. Your feet move precisely after the other, you're getting dangerously close to him. For his own safety (and sanity) he moves away, copying your movements, circling each other like some bird mating dance.

Smirking, you shake your head, quietly chuckling a taunt. “Well, one of us has to move eventually”

“Not gonna be me, sweets. Sorry”

“Let's see about that–” you fake a lunge towards him.

Hobie doesn't flinch, not even a blink. You commend him with a hearty laugh.

“Havin’ fun? Thought we were fighting” Hobie would savour your laugh but he has to keep his focus. Unfortunately it's hard to focus when it's you.

“We are–” you pounce, knuckles ready to strike.

Hobie felt the air rush around him when you lunged, he kept to his plan. Defending his face, thinking that's where you'll strike. He sees your face in between his arms, winking all the while, then for a millisecond, you're gone.

He forgets that you know him too.

Acquainted with his spidey senses, you drop to your knees before he could react. Right before he could jump away or do anything to prevent you from hitting him, you sweep both of his legs.

From the shock, he stumbles, tripping on your leg. Hobie lands on the mat, wind knocked right out of him.

He suddenly sees your face in all its glory. Your eyes twinkle with amusement. You straddle his torso, legs tight on his sides, your hands lock his shoulders in place.

“That's dirty” he heaves, not from the fall but from how close your smug face is to his rare flustered one.

“You gotta be ready for anything when it comes to fighting.” You're completely enamored by the goofy smile on his face, his head tilted to the side as if you didn't knock him off his ass within a second.

“What if I told you I just like the view from down here?”

“You should see it from up here then, it's much” you lean closer, breath fanning over his unfairly long eyelashes. “Much prettier up here in the winner's position”

Hobie resists the urge to lift his head up to meet your lips, He finds it hard not to, it's taking every single one of his willpower not to indulge.

And perhaps you're doing the same, neck aching from pulling yourself just a few inches away.

“Hobie, I–” you get flinged back, guessing you forgot to secure his legs too. Whoops.

He does the same to you with the use of his longer legs, taking advantage of your lack of spider sense. Hobie uses the lull as an opportunity to hook his leg to yours. In one precise movement (that he definitely didn't practice a hundred times alone at home) the position now changed.

You lay on the mat, eyes wide, pupils dilated and mouth agape at the sight in front of you. The red lights around his face makes your little nickname for him absolutely true to form. You're trapped under his gaze, limbs secured, unable to move a muscle.

Hobie leaves you speechless for the first time.

“You're right, the view is prettier up here” he says with a thumping heart. Your heart does the same, skipping a beat at his flirtatious comment.

There's a growing smile on your lips and you can't seem to find it in yourself to tear your eyes off him.

“Care to say uncle?” he taps your wrists that's still pinned above you, “because this doesn't look too comfortable for you”

You try to shrug but you're unable. You fake an exasperated sigh. “Quite the opposite actually, I find being under you comfortable”

“Bloody hell” Hobie clicks his tongue. Looking anywhere but your pretty face.

“Sorry, too much?” Are you being too flirty with him? Making him uncomfortable? “I'm sorry” your smile falters. “I'll toned it down, Hobie”

“No,” he swallows a lump in his throat. “You're never too much, not to me anyway” He watches as your smile softens.

The mat crinkles under your head as you nod. “Okay”

“Ready to say uncle now?” you chuckle, the atmosphere lighter than before.

“Unfortunately, yes. I yield”

He guffaws in triumph, releasing you from his hold that you already seem to miss.

“Got you didn't I?” Hobie’s knees creek as he stands up, offering his hand for you to take.

You hold his hand, warmth spreading through your palms. “So that's one for you and nineteen for me”

He doesn't let go of your hand, you rub the back of his hand with your thumb, your way of showing affection just for him.

“Way to rub it in, love” Hobie steps closer to you until the tips of your shoes meet his.

Giggling, “You did a good job, handsome. You're gonna surpass me one day.”

“‘m good where I am, love” you smile at the implication.

“Okay, what do you want? Claim your prize”

He thinks, maybe asking you out would be too presumptuous of him, you have that effect on him. After a minute or so, you roll your eyes, huffing.

“How about dinner instead?”

Hobie blinks in surprise, maybe you gave him a concussion?

“It doesn't have to be dinner though, we can just go out like the usual–”

After recovering from the shock, he answers back.

“Your dimension or mine?”

A/N: hehe thank you for reading! 🫶

[unbidden-yidden]

Okay something I haven't really had the words for so far is to describe the surreal weirdness of interacting with Current Events™️ as a ger.

Partially this has been me trying not to make this about my feelings, and partially this is a lack of ability to articulate the feelings anyway. But I'm gonna try because I think others might be in the same boat.

So one of the interesting things about being a Jew by Choice is that a number of us don't have any prior connections to Judaism. We are not culturally Jewish when we start, we do not have Jewish family or ancestry, and we are not joining a Jewish family through marriage. We just.... felt drawn. Called, if you will. A lot of us in that boat are seekers, moved by some moment of truth or divine connection.

At any rate, that leaves us in a weird position when it comes to Jewish cultural trauma, both new and old. We don’t carry the ancestral trauma of knowing we have lost literal family to atrocities, but we accept that may be our future. We don’t have the literal trauma, but the collective grief and community trauma seeps into your bones very quickly, the more you identify with the Jewish people. We don’t have the literal trauma, but we then worry about whether we also lack the resilience that has sustained Jews by birth throughout history.

"We are made of strong stuff! Your ancestors passed on their strength!" An excellent and true statement for many, but what if our specific ancestors did not? Worse: what if they were on the other side of the equation?

We are also confronting, for the first time, the reality of seeing how few people care about Jews outside of other Jews. For many born Jews, that makes this a time to consolidate into family, to hunker down. For gerim, we find strength in community but many of us have family that do not and cannot fully understand (and honestly many of us are praying our families don't understand it for any number of reasons.)

So we are processing this for the first time as adults, outside of a Jewish family. And it's surreal and weird and hard and alienating and you feel both like you are inside and outside of the community. You are profoundly affected, but do you have any right to complain? You chose this. You knew what was coming, probably. This kind of antisemitism? Brutally predictable, if you know Jewish history. You have survivors' guilt and secondhand trauma, but other people have it far worse, far more personal, and so it feels like there's no appropriate space to discuss that. You want to speak up and also, you don't want to draw attention to yourself. You want people to see you. You want to hide. This is the only thing anyone in your community can focus on, and you are struggling the same way. It's been two months and you need to snap out of this. This doesn't hurt you directly. But it does. It does. Because no matter how isolated you feel, you cannot separate yourself from your people.

Idk it's a lot. But I'm fine. I'm fine, of course.

[determinate-negation]

I'm sorry but having token jew(s) in your student movement does not absolve you of antisemitism and does not grant you a free pass from engaging with this problem. While I'm willing to believe many of these groups do actually advocate for Palestinian liberation without dabbling in the old jew hate, the reality is that the last weeks have seen some Very, very hateful and concerning targeting of Israeli and Jewish students, the Cornell forum and blocking of the kosher food court, whatever the fuck is happening in Columbia to name but a few. Many of my Jewish and Israeli friends in American universities have voiced major concerns, regardless of their political stance (yes! Even anti zionist aka the "good jews"!!)

Why are you so quick to dismiss these people's claims, the *are* the marginalized group, they are the ones feeling threatened, calling them delusional won't make them feel safe, unless, of course, you do not care for Jewish wellbeing and existence.

I must say that for the time being, as a jewish student, I thank God im not in American academia.

i wasnt gonna even respond to this but its so annoying how people refuse to interrogate the framing of things because youre falling for propaganda and im going to show you.

when i say that there are jewish students in palestine organizing, these are not “token jews,” although that seems to be the only lens through which you can view standing with liberation instead of violent ethnonationalism. but anyways, these are not token jews these are people making leadership decisions in sjp and jvp chapters. in new york specifically, not that you would know i guess, and which is misrepresented in the media, the issue in some chapters is having only a few “token arabs” and mainly white jewish members. if any of the reporters actually did their fucking job the articles they write about sjp would reflect this.

the incident you mentioned at cornell, someone making violent antisemitic threats, which is actually scary, has nothing to do with pro palestine organizing. in fact, quite the opposite, according to his lawyer.

so this was actually meant to vilify pro palestine students, and its working on you.

and i dont know what youre referring to about columbia, because whats mainly happening is pro palestine students and arab students in general who are completely unaffiliated are being doxxed by right wingers and the administration is taking extreme measures to shut down political speech. lets be fucking real: antisemitism on college campuses exists and is an issue, but is mainly coming from right wingers or opportunists, not the leadership of palestine organizations. conflating them when its actually a different story is serving a specific political purpose of slandering the palestine movement. its also ignoring the real root of the problem. and more cops on campus and administrations destroying academic freedom cynically framed as “preventing antisemitism” is actually a bigger threat for us in the long run. its just wrong to consider pro palestine people as the biggest threat to jewish students on campus, they simply arent the people behind most of this increase of antisemitism. if you joined sjp you would most likely find people committed to justice and liberation and would completely welcome you if youre equally committed, and who are vocal about not equating jews and the state of israel. stop fucking buying all this propaganda. my post specifically was about the misrepresentation of college palestine organizations as antisemitic terrorists, and nothing i said in it was incorrect

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Had to stop working on everything else and write a whole bunch of this instead. Usually I like to finish things that I think might be on the longer side before I start posting, but we're gonna live on the edge with this one. Expect updates in 1-2 Bearimys.

Chapter One - Sweetpea

Next Chapter >

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, Large men picking up reader like a football, No Y/N, A spot of magic, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through. This is just me having a bit of fun with a fantasy setting because it is my favourite type.

~3.4k Words - MDNI

Sunlight streams down through the light scattering of clouds above, as you carry your nearly empty basket into town to buy a few things for your auntie Kate. She’s not truly your aunt, but over the past few years it’s hard to think of her as anything less than family. She’s not warm, exactly, but she’s honest, and you know that you can trust her with anything.

Kate would usually be at your side when you go into town, watching the crowd with hawkish intensity, as though she still expects agents of the new king to materialize and snatch you away, but she’s away on business, and her wife much less paranoid. You expect that anyone who was ever looking for you has given up on you now. After the civil war, there was a time of instability, and you laid awake many nights, half expecting armed men to break into your bedroom and snatch you away, but everything is smoothed over now, and there’s no reason why Price would feel like he needed you to cement his rule.

You’re happy to just let him have the kingdom. You have more freedom as an ordinary girl, and you’re happier now than you ever have been. You were miserable living in your father’s halls, just a spindly little flower growing without enough sun or rain. And your people are happy now too. It twists your stomach something fierce, to think that your father was never a good king, but the reality is that he wasn’t. People starved while he feasted behind his walls. He sent good men to wage war on his behalf, to die in far off lands when they should have been home building better lives for themselves and their families. He allowed his chosen men to terrorize the women and children and old men living in the towns still. Things had been bad.

So yes, let Price have the crown, and the castle, and the responsibility and anything he likes. What difference does it make to you now?

What matters now is the sun on your face, and the gentle sound of birdsong around you, and the dull bite of the occasional stone through the soft leather soles of your shoes. The air smells sweet and green, although there’s a slight prickle at the back of your nose that tells you that there will be rain tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s nothing to worry about aside from whether or not the children in town will like the end of the book you have tucked into your basket.

You see a young man sleeping by the side of the road on your way into town, his horse tied to a long halter while he lounges beneath a tree. As you pass by, a bird flying too close startles the horse, and it pulls up the peg it’s tied to, and bolts. The young man doesn’t stir, so you dash after the horse without a thought, dropping your basket so you have both hands free to seize the halter.

You try to dig in your heels to stop the big, white-stockinged horse, but it half-drags you a little ways down the road before finally stopping, swinging it’s head around to look at you as though you’ve personally offended it. “Come on,” you tell it, exasperated. “You don’t belong out here.”

Arms wrap around you from behind, hands much larger than yours close over your wrists. “You’re awfully pretty for a horse thief,” a voice says in your ear.

“I’m not a horse thief!” you protest. “I was trying to help!” The horse snorts, as though it intends to tattle on you for something that you most certainly were not doing.

“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” The man behind you lets go of one of your wrists and spins you around, the movement smooth and graceful, like you’re two dancers at a ball, rather than two strangers meeting along a country road. But when you look up, you find the all too familiar face of one of Price’s knights.

“Sir Garrick!” you gasp.

“Princess,” he says, smiling. He’s far too handsome, his smile bright, teeth a little bit too sharp. “How very nice to see you. I thought for sure you’d have left the kingdom by now.”

“No! Oh no.” You push against his chest uselessly. He’s strong, so much stronger than you. Despair claws at your ribs. Your nightmare-come-true may be wrapped in a pretty, familiar face, but you have no desire to return to the capital. “Please let me go. I promise I don’t want the kingdom. Price can have it— You can have it. I just want to be left alone, I swear, I’ll never—”

“Hush, sweetpea.” He tucks a few of your thin braids behind your ear, fingertips grazing down your neck. “I have to bring you in. But you can make your case to Price. Maybe he’ll let you come back, alright? Don’t fret. He’s always been reasonable.”

You’re not certain how to get out of this. Sir Garrick has kind eyes, but his grip is like steel. He lifts you up easily and sets you on his horse before you so much as think of protesting or making a feeble attempt to fight him off.

“We’re not far from the capital. We can make it there before dark,” he continues, voice low and reassuring, as though you’re worried about the travel, and not the destination.

“But— What about my aunt? I should let her know where I’ve gone.”

“We’ll send word. Don’t you worry, your majesty.”

“No, no, don’t call me that. That’s for kings and queens, and I’m neither.” I’m no one, you want to shout.

He's amused by that, amused by you, as if you're just being a silly little girl. "I suppose we'll settle on sweetpea for now." He holds his palm out and three little white birds materialize and fly off in different directions, spectral and iridescent as soap bubbles. And then he swings into the seat behind you and pulls you most of the way into his lap, wraps strong arms around your waist, and nudges his mount into a walk.

“So,” Sir Garrick says conversationally, his voice low, lips far too close to your ear. It’s overly familiar, but you’re already practically sitting in the man’s lap. “What have you been doing out here all these years?”

“Um. Gardening. Embroidery. Taking care of my chickens. Lessons, for some of the children that live nearby. Just letters and arithmetic. I’ve been thinking about organizing a proper schoolhouse.” You can feel your nerves bubbling up as you babble, thoughts coming to you disorganized and stilted. “I never realized how few people can read. It seems a shame. I do a few hours of reading around town, help out at the church. I keep busy. I haven’t any real purpose, so I have to go out of my way to make one.” You sigh, thinking of how you had left things at a particularly gripping point in a story you’d been reading to the town children. They’ll be disappointed if they never hear the end of it, but you still have hope that Price will decide you’ve become something of a country bumpkin with no place in the court, and let you go back home soon. “How have you fared? Is your family well?”

“Quite well. My sisters will be glad to see you again. They always thought you were sweet. Rosie’s opened her own dress shop in the city, and Camellia has five children now. I think Kylie and Jorah were just two or three last you saw them. My mother lives with Cam to help out.” Sir Garrick’s mother and sister used to work at the palace, and he had been apprenticed to the court wizard before he specialized in battle magic and became a knight. You hadn’t been friends, exactly— You’re not sure you ever really had friends— but he’d always been nice enough, when your paths crossed.

“And what of you?” you prompt gently. “Have you found yourself a wife?”

He laughs lightly. “I’m working on it. I’ve a girl in mind, but I think she’ll take some convincing.”

“Oh I doubt that, Sir. You’re perfectly unobjectionable.”

“High praise indeed, princess.”

The two of you chat idly as you travel, mostly about nothing, but it’s pleasant enough. Sir Garrick— Kyle, he insists you call him— is far more charming than you remember, and he makes you laugh so much that you’re certain that you’d simply fall right off the horse if he wasn’t holding onto you so securely. He’s the very picture of a romantic hero, all chivalry and smiles, handsome in the dappled light under the canopy of trees as the road carries you from farmland to forest. You come to a bridge, and he dismounts so his horse can drink, and lifts you down so you can stretch out stiff muscles. His touch lingers, strong hands resting on your hips for a few beats longer than would be appropriate, but you don’t really mind.

You part from his company so you can relieve yourself a little ways into the trees, glad he’s not concerned about you making a run for it. His assurances that Price can be reasoned into letting you go home once you’ve spoken to him is enough to make you cooperative. You’re certain that he’ll take one look at you now and send you right back home. You’ve never had any luck with the young men in town, and if that’s any indication, you’ll be back to your little bedroom in Kate’s house before the week is up.

You fix your clothes and walk back to the road, humming lightly under your breath. Kyle is speaking to a flat glowing disc that hums with energy, floating above his palm. He gives you a smile and a nod and retreats to the tree line while he finishes his conversation. You catch a glimpse of a face on the disc as he turns, searing blue eyes meeting yours for a moment. Price, certainly. You recognize those eyes.

Kyle’s gaze slips over to you again as you kneel by the creek, one arm keeping your skirt out of the water while you trail the other hand through the water idly, the cool stream a pleasant offset to the heat of the afternoon. If you were alone, you would consider stripping down and going for a swim, but as nice as Kyle is, he’s still a man, and not one you know particularly well anymore, if you ever did.

When you look over again, he’s tucking the crystal disc into the front of his tunic, and a wolf is behind him, stalking out of the woods, low to the ground and ready to pounce. “Kyle!” you shout, pointing behind him. He turns quickly, a spell glittering on his fingertips, but the wolf pounces before he can cast it, both crashing into the packed earth along the side of the road.

You rush over, although halfway there you wonder what help you expect to be, and an arm snatches you around the middle, hauling you back. You’re beginning to get a bit annoyed at how much you’ve been manhandled today, and you start kicking as you’re lifted off your feet. “Let me go!”

“Easy, sweet girl. Let the lads say hello,” a deep voice says behind you, the sound rumbling through you like a cat’s purr. “No danger ‘ere.”

You look at Kyle and the wolf again. Only there isn’t a wolf anymore, just a large, naked man laying on top of Kyle, kissing him ardently and more than a little messily. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn. “Oh.”

The man who was a wolf stands up, and you look away, too flustered by the sight of so much bare skin to do anything else. The big man puts you down and turns you to face him, putting your back to the werewolf. “Johnny, put some clothes on before you say ‘ello. We know you were raised by savages, but you don’t need to act like it,” he says firmly, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

You stare at the skull embroidered on the black tunic in front of you, recognizing the emblem, and then the black fencers mask tied around the man’s face, obscuring even the shape of his features. You see a glint of light when he drops his chin to look at you though, gleaming eyes that look at you inscrutably. You know him, by name and reputation and deep, rumbling voice, if not by his face. No one knows him by his face, but he was as highly ranked a knight as Price was, one of your father’s personal guard before the war. Often tasked as your guardian, a solemn but comforting presence always. “Hello, Ghost,” you say, cheeks burning all the hotter. “Been a while.”

“Not as long as you might think,” he says. You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Been keepin’ an eye on you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “For how long?”

“Knew where you were this whole time. Wun’t about to let you disappear, princess.” He tucks you against his side, keeping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Johnny. Come meet our girl. Best behaviour.”

Johnny the werewolf grins at you as he walks up, still adjusting the drape of the tartan fabric around his hips, broad chest bare and dusted with hair, swirling blue tattoos printed on his scarred skin. His hair is shaved on the sides, a stripe of it left long in the center. “Nice ta finally meet ya, princess. Officially, anyway. We’ve bumped intae each other once or twice, but I was told no’ ta approach unless ye approached first, aye? Shame ye never did.” His smile is crooked, his too-bright blue eyes intent on yours. “Think we’ll get along.”

“The whole time?” you ask, skipping back a few paces in the conversation, glancing up at Ghost. “But Kyle said—”

“Sorry, sweetpea,” Kyle says airily. “I lied.”

“Typical tricksy wizard shite. But dinnae ye worry none, we’ll keep him honest for ye.” Johnny grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and then to the inside of your palm. His rough fingertips push your sleeve back, and he kisses the inside of your wrist too. When you squeak, he gives you a heated look and does it again, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he opens his mouth and licks a stripe across your pulse.

You’re warm from the tips of your ears to your chest, your breath catching on ragged nerves. You tug your hand out of his grip and cradle it with your other, like you’ve been burned by his brash touch.

“Johnny,” Ghost says, exasperated. “S’that what you call best behaviour?”

“She likes it, sir.”

“I most certainly do not!” you protest.

“Oh, aye ye do. Werewolf, ye ken. Can smell ye.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks at you. “Ye dinnae need ta be embarrassed, sweetpea. Ye can hardly blame yerself, faced with all this.” He gestures to his admittedly impressive physique, the broad and lean shape of near-perfect manhood on immodest display.

“Let’s move.” Kyle’s hand brushes your elbow. “You can ride with me again.”

Ghost shakes his head and turns, pulling you with him. “No. Come meet Nox.” He whistles, and a huge black shape hurtles down from the sky, glossy black wings snapping open just before the creature hit the ground, flapping a few times so that it lands lightly on four mismatched limbs, stirring up dust leaves. You shrink back against Ghost’s side, eyes wide. A gryphon.

The massive beast has a raven’s head and wings, and shiny black fur on it’s haunches. The catlike tail, with it’s tuft of feathers at the end, twitches back and forth as the bird head tilts to regard you, dark, slit-pupil eyes watching you with interest.

You look up at Ghost for reassurance, and he nods. “Go on. Offer ‘er your ‘and. She won’t bite. Hey, girl?” he scratches the gryphon behind the ear, and it opens it’s mouth to make a vibrating, keening sound that makes Kyle’s horse snort nervously. “That’s right, sweetpea’s a friend.”

You offer your outstretched hand to the giant creature, bolstered by Ghost’s calm, and it sticks it’s beak under your palm, making the same keening sound again. The last of your apprehension melts away, and you step closer, smiling. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” You scratch the spot where her beak meets her feathers, and her eyes close for a moment.

Johnny reaches for the Nox’s side, and she whips her head around and hisses at him, her throat feathers fluffing up defensively. “Och, yer no’ goan ta git my fingers, ye wee beastie. Thought ye was gettin’ soft.”

“Away, Johnny. Let the girls get to know each other.” Ghost stands behind you and guides your hands to points just behind Nox’s jaw. The gryphon croaks and leans her head on your shoulder, nudging Ghost with her beak.

“Not so scary,” you coo, pressing your face into the soft cloud of feathers. “What a sweet girl.”

“How about it, Nox? Can she ‘op up?” Ghost asks. The gryphon croaks again and backs away enough to lean her front half down. Ghost picks you up and sets you on her back, on a flat saddle that sits right behind the joint of her massive wings, which fold up over your legs like she’s holding you steady. He pats Nox on the neck and starts walking, and she follows, padding beside him, sticking her beak between the joints of his leather armor playfully whenever he takes his hand off her.

You grab the edge of the saddle, mindful of Nox’s feathers, and it takes a moment to adjust to her movement. It’s not the side to side sway of a horse, but she’s steady, like she’s trying her best not to spill an inexperienced rider. Thoughtful of her.

Behind you, Kyle scrambles up onto his horse, and Johnny hustles to catch up, positioning himself on Ghost’s other side, giving Nox a wider berth.

“Thought we weren’t supposed ta tell her we were watchin’,” Johnny said. “Price said—”

“She ought to know. I wun’t too ‘appy about it in the first place, but a deal’s a deal.”

“A deal with who?” you ask.

“I’ll let Price tell you that much, sweetpea. But if it were up to me I’d’ve dragged you back home years ago.”

You shake your head tiredly. “Home is where I was. And I’m going back as soon as this business with Price is done. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m sure we can work something out. Kyle said he’s reasonable.”

“Oh, did ‘e?” Ghost asks, amusement colouring his deep voice. “S’pose that’s ‘ow ‘e had you comin’ along purrin’ like a kitten, hm?”

The blood drains from your face as you turn to look at Kyle, but he doesn’t look guilty, or like he’d been lying to you. “Well, again, I’m perfectly happy to cooperate. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t let me go when he gets what he wants, is there?”

Johnny chuckles, exchanging a look with Ghost that’s inscrutable. “Aye, ye’ve got a point. I’m sure ye’ll have no trouble dealin’ with the old man. Born diplomat, aren’t ye?”

Your stomach twists with nerves. It’s been many years since you’ve seen John Price. You don’t know him as well as you know Ghost. You’d always found the big, faceless man strangely comforting, easy to talk at, if not to, especially when you were still young and silly. But John Price, when he fixed you with those fathomless dark blue eyes, had always rendered you speechless, turned your usually clever tongue to lead. He was a knight captain then, a natural leader of men, a hero. Not someone that your father wanted you to get close to. It’s easy for you to see why now, with your father dead in the ground and Price wearing the crown, but you were glad for any excuse to stay away.

You wish you could ask Nox to fly away with you on her back, maybe home, but maybe somewhere else entirely, where no one knows you, where you can start again without the weight of the crown hanging heavy over your head, an executioner’s ax waiting to fall.

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

[redr0sewrites]

ATSV Characters with a Goth S/o

heeeeeyyyyyy guys 😇 *slowly sliding the 100+ REQUESTS in my inbox to the side to make room for a new special interest*

🥀Cw: none, mostly fluff!!!

🥀Pairing(s): Hobie x reader, Miles x reader, Miguel x reader, Spot x reader

Hobie

he would LOVE any type of alternative partner tbh- he just LOOOVESSS that ur goth and will support you 100%

people who go against societies expectations/standards and don't fit in with the norm intrigue him, and your style is probably what piqued his interest in the first place

y'all definitely wear matching fits sorry i don't make the rules- hobie just can't pass up the opportunity to match w you!!! whenever you go to meetings within the spider society he always brings you along, regardless of whether or not you're a spiderperson and hobie loves showing off you and your style

MAJOR "THATS MY PARTNER‼️" VIBES

look me in the eyes and tell me hobia would not absolutely rock some funky eyeliner LIKEEEEE- he def lets you practice on him and will do your makeup for you too!!!

hobie loves thrifting with you, there is no way he isn't a major thrifter and you both definitely DIY a lot of your clothes

HE MAKES YOU GUYS MATCHING PUNK BATTLE VESTS FOR YOUR ANNIVERSARY, AND MAKES SURE THAT IT MATCHES UR AESTHETIC AS WELL!!

hobie absolutely has BLESSED music taste, but while he usually listens to rock, punk, dad rock, or post-punk type of music, i def see him enjoying more gothic/new wave music- especially if u introduce it to him!!!

i see him enjoying bauhaus, sisters or mercy, scary bitches, etc- he'll also give YOU a lot of music recommendations and help to expand ur taste!

hobie would also accompany you to any protests or conventions that you wanted to attend, and would act as your scary dog privileges

YOU TWO DEFINITELY GO TO CONCERTS TOGETHER OMG. I TOTALLY SEE THAT AS A SPONTANEOUS DATE THAT YOU TWO ENJOY A LOT

honestly hobie is a lovely partner to have if you are goth, and he's not only supportive but VERY enthusiastic about your fashion and lifestyle!

Miles

hes such a sweetheart!!! he definitely supports you if you're goth and asks a LOOOT of questions lmao

miles draws you and your fashion a lot, and will def design makeup or eyeliner ideas for you too!!! while ik this is more associated with punk, i also see miles drawing you a few custom patches and stuff like that

your kind of like his muse in a way, and miles just really enjoys sketching you, especially since you have such a unique aesthetic and such cool outfits

HE HAS DEFINITELY GRAFFITIED U SOMEWHERE‼️

he loves watching you get ready and do your makeup. seeing you do perfect eyeliner wings and heavy makeup in general lowkey relaxes him, and he just loves admiring you

im sorry but miles knows absolutely nothing about goth music or culture, ur gonna have to introduce him to a lot of the songs/bands!!!

while i don't think he's huge on the music at first, i think it would grow on him over time. its definitely the type of thing that he loves because YOU love it, and he sees how mu much you enjoy it so he starts listening to it as well so he can talk to you about it

i think his favorite band would be the cure, and his fav songs would either be boys dont cry or the walk (both by the cure- idk why thats so specific but they just kinda fit his vibe yk?)

miles likes holding hands a lot, and he loves when you wear rings or gloves or something along those lines because it just reminds him so much of you! your hands just feel different compared to other peoples and he just loves how unique you are

if you have a lot of piercings, miles would definitely ask about them or buy you specific jewelry for piercings!!!!

overall, very very cute and supportive about your style!!! (he lowkey gives bi wife energy, and iyk what in talking ab then ily mwah)

Miguel

he's pretty indifferent to your style at first, i don't see him as the type to judge much based on appearances. its your personality that really throws him for a loop, and a part of him admires your dedication to making yourself look how you want to look and truly living to be your best self, regardless of what others think

if you think miles knows nothing about being goth then be prepared for miguel bc he knows NOTHINGGGG- no music, no history, no political views, zero, zilch, nada, goose egg

if he cares about you i do see him being intrigued about your style, and once you two are officially dating is when he'll show more interest in your personal fashion sense

he strikes me as the type to like, NEVER listen to music, so he literally only listens to the music you like!!! he does find himself occasionally humming the tune of some strawberry switchblade song or casually listening to a siouxsie and the banshees song while he works, and over time you influence him a LOT with your music taste. he definitely associates any and all goth music with YOU, and that's probably why he starts enjoying it.

he's a "hand on you at all times" type of guy, and while he is rarely touchy with others, miguel is definitely keeping you close. your fashion makes that convenient for him, and he loves pulling you into a kiss by grabbing onto your belt loop or something of the sort

miguel loves how you look with and without makeup on and isn't afraid to tell you that, however, he really likes it if you incorporate his colors or color scheme into your makeup one day. he'll never admit it, but you keep catching him admiring you with the smallest smirk on his face every few seconds

if anyone ever gave u shit for what you wear and how you dress, especially someone in the spider society, you'd practically have to restrain miguel from drop kicking them across nueva york- he doesn't want anyone to be rude to you , and while he knows you can stand up for yourself, he just gets protective at times

Spot

goth? whats that???

he's lowkey such a nerd, and spends too much time being science-y and planning on how to beat spiderman to actually get caught up on fashion

spot doesn't know how he pulled you tbh, but he appreciates you nonetheless!!! he thinks you and your aesthetic are something to be admired, and will unabashedly tell EVERYONE he knows about you

he will shoplift any clothing or jewelry that you want, and he'll even take you to other dimensions where there are better alternative clothes as well

spot doesn't really have a face to do makeup on, but he'll offer to do yours for you! surprisingly enough he's pretty good at it, though he does work pretty slowly

spot loves fiddling with your accessories, whenever he's standing near you he's always reaching out to touch you in some way shape or form. he loves playing with any chains or necklaces you wear, and will help adjust them so that they lay correctly

he helps you get ready in the morning!!!!! if ur the type of goth to wear corsets, he makes lacing them up SO easy and will gladly do it for you

i personally hc that spot HATES seeing himself in mirrors/pictures, it reminds him sm of what he used to look like, but he LOVES taking photos of you and your style!! whenever you are wearing a cute outfit or have funky makeup on, spot adores just taking photos of you

if you ever did a makeup look inspired by him and his spots he would probably CRY :(

URGRHHRHHRRR I LOVE ATSV SMMMMMMM!!!! this post will DEFINITELY have a pt2 w more characters!!!!! i swear tho atsv literally pulled me out of the most horrendous burnout ever i FELT the artblock and writing block lift off of my body as i watched it. IM SO INVESTED I MADE A SPIDERSONA...

[onlyfezco]

Obvious - Fezco

Summary: You insist on meeting your cousin Rue's drug dealer and an interesting friendship develops in the process.

Fezco x Reader

Word Count: 4,840

Author's Note: Started this in March of 2022 and it's finally getting posted lol. This is my first Fezco fic since Angus' passing which is so hard to type I'm crying at that. I still miss him. A lot. Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Rue was your closest cousin. Not that you had many, and the few you did have lived somewhere outside of East Highland, but that was beside the point. She was a year younger than you, so the two of you spent most of your childhood glued to one another. When her dad died, you saw the toll it took on her. You realized then that she started using but she played it off like she had it all under control. That’s what an addict does. Eventually you did confront her about it. She said it was mostly weed, so you let it slide. One day she had you drive her to restock her supply. That’s when you met Fezco for the first time.

“So you’re the guy selling my baby cousin drugs,” you blurted out after Rue did a quick introduction then started making her way to Ashtray behind the refrigerated drinks.

“Y/N, what the fuck,” Rue shouted at you annoyed. “You’re only a year older than me.”

“A year and three months,” you corrected. You only got specific with the three months to annoy Rue. You crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed the ginger sitting on the counter in front of you. “And how old are you?”

Fez observed you carefully. It’s not everyday some random person immediately brings up him selling drugs directly to his face. Especially a cute random person. “You always talk to new people like this?”

“Only when my cousin’s health is at stake.” You sighed and shook your head. “Look, I don’t have beef with you. I realized a while ago that Rue’s gonna do what she wants. I just want to make sure she’s being safe about it... well, as safe as you can get with drugs.”

Fez nodded along as you spoke understanding your concern for your cousin. He knew Rue wasn’t going around promoting that she was doing drugs or that he sold. You were just looking out for her. “I get it.”

“I’ve heard too many stories about people overdosing on Fentanyl or something they didn’t know was laced with Fentanyl. I don’t want to find out that happened to my cousin.”

“You don’t have to worry, ma. I don’t mess with that shit. All my stuff is good.”

You squinted at him taking in his words. “Better be. Otherwise I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Fez chuckled. He didn’t doubt for a second you wouldn’t fight behind Rue. “Understood.”

“You go to school with Rue? I ain’t never seen you ‘round before.” Fez went to most of the East Highland High School parties to deal. Since he’s never seen you there, either you didn’t go to that school, or you didn’t go to parties. Either way, he was missing out on you. 

“Oh God, no,” you said. “I go to Centenary.”

“Oh, so you smart smart.” You smiled and rolled your eyes at Fezco’s statement, and he decided right then and there that was something he wanted to see more of.

“Something like that,” you replied giggling.

“You ready to go, Y/N,” Rue popped up practically out of no where and asked. Damn, why did Rue have to be so quick.

“Uhh, yeah,” you said to your cousin. Rue shoved her hands into her dad’s old maroon jacket and started to walk out the store. You turned to Fezco and said, “I’m gonna be watching you, sir.”

Fez smiled at the thought. “I look forward to it, ma.”

After that, you made a few impromptu trips to Fez’s store without Rue. You told him your grandma lived in the neighborhood, which she did, so it wasn’t a lie. But Fez did point out that before Rue, you had never came to the store before. 

“I mean I could always go somewhere else for my carbonated beverages if you want,” you said as you turned on your heel to leave the store without making your usual purchase.

“Nah,” Fez replied grabbing your wrist stopping you, “I ain’t say all that.”

When your mom told you that Rue overdosed, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe if you had told your Aunt Leslie what Rue was doing, she could have got some help. But you knew Rue. Ever since her dad’s death she had been struggling. She would have to finally deal with that grief if she was going to stop, and you knew that was the last thing she wanted to do.

A few days after Rue’s overdose, you went to visit Fezco. You weren’t sure if he knew or not. Even though he was her dealer, he was close to Rue, so you thought he should know. And it would be better coming from you than to hear it on the street.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N,” Fezco greeted you with a smile on his face. 

You tried to smile at the red head, but it was weak. “Hey Fezco.”

“What’s wrong,” Fez asked, immediately knowing something was up.

You walked to him fiddling with your fingers nervous to tell him about your cousin. “Uh... it’s Rue,” you said looking up at him with somber eyes. “She overdosed.”

Fez’s face became tense. He didn’t question it. He wasn’t shocked, just sad.

You couldn’t take looking into his piercing blue eyes any longer and set your eyes on the candy on the counter. “She’s still at the hospital going through withdrawals. Aunt Leslie’s going to put her in rehab when she gets out.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Fez said as he placed his hand on your arm to comfort you. Your eyes met his again and you could tell he genuinely felt bad.

“Its..,” you paused and laughed. “I was going to say it’s okay, but its not. She didn’t die, so that’s great but... I didn’t know it was this bad with her.”

Fez dropped his hand and leaned against the counter behind him. “Why’d you come here, ma?”

You looked at him confused. “What are you talking about? Rue’s your friend, I thought you should know.”

“She is but... you ain’t come here to blame me?”

You were taken aback. “No, Fez. It’s not your fault. Rue made a choice. And if she didn’t get her drugs from you, it would be someone else.”

Fez was quiet as he took in what you said. You wanted to, no, needed him to understand this wasn’t his fault. 

“Listen to me Fezco. Rue’s got a lot of problems that she has to deal with. She was using drugs to cope with her grief. I know you wouldn’t want her to OD. I’d rather know she was going to you for her fix, than some random guy who didn’t give two shits about whether or not she lived or died. So I don’t want you putting any of this on yourself, okay?”

Fez gave a small nod to let you knew he understood. You don’t know if he actually believed what you said, but you were glad it was out there. 

Over the summer, you visited the store more frequently. You did see him outside the store once at a pool party. Of course you pointed out that you’d never seen him at a party before. Your crowd was a little different than the East Highland High School bunch. Fez played it off though, but you knew he was only there for you. 

An unexpected hangout occurred one evening when you stopped by the store on a cloudy day. The flow of customers was already crazy slow, then it started raining and store had been empty besides you, Fez, and Ash for the last hour.  

“Aye, bro, can we go home? I’m bored as shit,” Ash said coming from behind the refrigerators. 

Fez looked to you sitting on top of the freezer that held the popsicles and ice-cream before he spoke. “Uh, yeah. Go head and pack up.”

You hopped off your self designated spot in store. “Welp, I guess that’s my queue to head home.” 

“Nah,” Fez said and stopped you in your tracks. “You ain’t gotta go home.”

“But I gotta get outta here,” you interrupted giggling. 

“Nah, ma. I was finna say you could come to my place and hang... if you want.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Fez’s and your relationship mostly consisted of you just hanging out at his store while he worked. The two of you texted every now and then, but that was about it. 

“Oh... Uh, sure,” you managed to stammer out. Then you realized that didn’t sound very enthusiastic so you added, “Yeah, I’d love to come over.”

You followed Fez and Ashtray home in your car since you drove yourself to the store. You were anxious the whole way there and the rain definitely wasn’t helping. 

Fez’s place looked homey. The living room felt familiar; the couches reminding you of your grandma’s house. 

“You want anythin’ to drank,” Fez asked making his way to the kitchen.

“Uh, no, I’m good. Thanks though,” you replied slowly making your way to where he went. It was always awkward the first time you went over to a friend’s house. 

Fez reappeared from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He eyed you for a second before speaking. “You want to watch a movie or somethin’?”

The rest of the evening was spent on Fez’s couch, watching old 90′s movies. Even Ashtray joined you for one. It was nice. It felt normal, not like you somehow became friends with you cousin’s drug dealer.

“Oh my God, Fezzy,” you shouted excitedly. “You won’t believe- Rue,” you paused when you saw your cousin coming from the back door that led to Ashtray. You glanced at Fez, then back to Rue. “What are you doing here?”

“Just popped in for a visit,” Rue answered. Her hands fidgeted in her pockets of her dad’s jacket. 

“Unhuh...,” you hummed knowing she didn’t just stop by to see the boys.

“What are you doing here,” Rue asked curious.

“I came by to see Fez,” you stated quickly. “You just got out of rehab, Rue.”

Rue rolled her eyes at you. “Yeah, and I had no plans on staying clean. I learned my lesson cuz. I know my limits now.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You only know your limits cause you overdosed Rue! You almost died!”

“Key word being almost.”

“Oh my God,” you shook your head again turning away from the conversation. “I’ll talk to you later, Fez,” you said then turned to walk out of the store.

“Hey, Y/N,” Rue said and you stopped in your tracks. “You’re not gonna tell my mom are you?”

You huffed exhausted by your cousin. You telling her mom should be the least of her concerns. You still faced the door but turned your head to look at Rue. Your eyes glossed over with frustrated tears. “I wish you cared about yourself like the rest of us do.” 

Two weeks went by before you saw Fez again. The ginger was starting to think you blamed him for Rue’s relapse. Even though you had told him Rue made a choice to do drugs so it wasn’t his fault, your silence made him think you thought otherwise now. 

It was Sunday afternoon when Fez heard someone at his door. He looked through the peephole and saw you, then quickly opened the door.

“What’s up, ma?”

“Hey... I went by the store first but you weren’t there. I know I should have called or something, but I just wanted to see you.”

“Nah, you good. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“Nah, come in,” Fez said then stepped to the side to let you in. 

“Thanks,” you replied as you walked past him. You had only been in Fez’s place once, but it felt familiar. You just stood in the entry way while Fez closed the door. “Um, can we talk?”

“Yeah, come on,” Fez said nodding towards the living room. 

Fez took his usual place on the couch and you followed suit sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry about ghosting you these last two weeks,” you said, not being able to make eye contact with him. You felt guilty for ignoring him even though your issues were with Rue. Fez just sat there quiet. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you needed him to say something. “Not to sound cliché, but it was me not you.”

“It sure felt like it was because of me,” Fez said.

You turned on the couch to face him more. “It wasn’t, Fez. I promise. I’m mad at Rue, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but she got her drugs from me and Ash. I could have told her no.”

“And then she would have thrown a fit and went somewhere else. Probably somewhere dangerous.” 

“Why you keep makin’ excuses for me? You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

“What,” you asked, your eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Fez, no, I don’t want to be anywhere else but near you.” You spoke before you could realize what you were saying but it was true. Fez finally looked towards you and you averted his eyes. The silence was too loud. You were careful with your next words. “If I have to tell you every day, then I will,” you said slowly then looked back up at him. “Rue’s choice to do drugs, and keep doing them after her OD, is hers and hers alone. It’s not your fault.” 

Fez took in what you said and how it made him feel then began to shake his head. “Nah, y/n. You tryin’ to justify it still don’t make it right.”

“Fine,” you said exhausted, throwing your hands up in the air. “It’s not right! Rue coping with drugs. You selling her drugs. None of it is right, okay! But Rue is family and you’re my friend. So I’m not going anywhere,” you shouted then just fell back into the couch crossing your arms over your chest. 

Fez just watched you from his place on the couch. Anger and annoyance evident on your face. The situation sucked, but Fez didn’t want to lose you. He was worried if Rue overdosed again, not only would he lose a sister, but you would never forgive him. Regardless of how much you told him it wasn’t his fault she was on drugs, he was the supplier. But, if you wanted to keep being friends with him, who was he to tell you no. 

“Aight, ma,” Fez drawled out in his usual tone. 

“Aight what,” you asked for clarification. 

“You’re right... and stubborn,” Fez said, trying to stifle a laugh. 

You eyed him cautiously. “Elaborate.” 

Fez stayed sitting forward, but turned his head turned towards you and let it fall back on the couch. “Rue’s gonna find a way to do drugs whether or not I give them to her. She was on them before she met me.”

You uncrossed your arms resting them in your lap as you sighed feeling sorry about your cousin. You hated the mess she got in and wished for nothing more than her sobriety. While you were thinking about Rue, Fez’s hand grabbed your forearm then slid down to your hand, pulling it so it was on the empty cushion space between you two, so he could hold it.

“And you’re right about us being friends,” Fez continued. You bit your lip trying to stop your grin from getting too big, and Fez returned a small smile. 

After that day, you had seen less of Fez than you usually had in the summer. It was your senior year, so you were busy trying to keep your grades up while staying active in your clubs. You explained your schedule to Fez so he didn’t trip at the fact that he was seeing less of you. 

Things between you and Rue were strained. After you talked to Fez, you talked to your cousin and told her if she kept doing drugs you weren’t going to stick around and watch her kill herself. You were no longer holding any sympathy for what she was going through. Your Aunt Leslie and Gia managed to keep living without having their grief hold them back, why couldn’t Rue at least try? But Rue became spiteful, not caring that you were cutting yourself off from her. 

You missed how things were in the summer. No stress. Rue was in rehab so you knew she was safe. Spending afternoons at Fez’s store. Missing Fez was how you found yourself at an East Highland party. One of your friends brought it up and you were quick to agree to the outing. You knew he would be dealing at the party, and that was more than enough of a reason to go.

“Hey,” Rue said plopping down on the couch by Fez.

“What’s up, kid?”

“What’s going on with you and my cousin,” Rue asked, cutting straight to the chase. She was never one to beat around the bush.

“Whatchu mean,” Fez asked.

“Y/N doesn’t do parties. Especially not East Highland parties. And I know she’s not here for me.”

“Shit, she might be here for you,” Fez replied nonchalantly but he was hoping you were here for him. He missed seeing you on a regular basis. 

“Nah, she’s not even talking to me right now. Cut me off cause I won’t stop using. Trying to teach me a lesson or some shit,” Rue said while she rolled her eyes. “So much for family.”

“Don’t say that shit, Rue.” Fez was getting agitated, because he knew how much you cared for her. “That girl loves you. She just wants you to do better.”

“If she loved me, she wouldn’t leave,” Rue argued, her shoulders tensing up. 

“Nah, kid. That’s not how love works. She just doesn’t want to sit around and watch you kill yo’self.”

Rue sat there stunned, your words replaying in her head. “That’s exactly what Y/N told me... how much have you two been hanging out?”

Fez just shook his head as he took his blunt from behind his ear and lit it. “She misses you. Talk to her, Rue.”

You had been at the party for about an hour now. Attempting to play it cool as if Fez wasn’t the sole reason for you being there, you were trying to wait before you went and actually spoke to him. You noticed him a few minutes after you arrived. The two of you made eye contact and waved, but that was it.

Finally managing to leave your friends, you were making your way to Fezco when Rue stepped in front of you.

“Oh sor- hey Rue.”

“Hey, cuz,” Rue said. She looked... nervous. She was fidgeting with her jacket’s hood strings. Her eyes looking practically everywhere else but at you. “Um, can we talk for a sec?”

You looked past her to see Fez still sitting on the couch. Some guy coming up to him to make a deal. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s step outside.”

Rue nodded, then you both made your way to the front door. There was too much going on in the backyard to have a private conversation there. You opened the door and let Rue step out into the cool night air first. 

You leaned against one of the front porch beams while Rue just stood there awkwardly and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. 

The silence between you two was awkward which was a first. You tried to wait for Rue to speak, but she struggled to find the words.

“What’s up, Rue?”

“Umm, I just- I,” Rue stammered out while she fidgeted in her spot. “Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N. We’ve never not talked to each other like this and I hate it. I miss you.”

You sighed, sorrow filling your eyes. “I miss you, too, cousin.”

Rue’s eyes glossed over as she started to smile. “Uh, I haven’t been using as much anymore.”

You reached out and placed your hand on her wrist for a moment. “That’s great.”

Rue nodded, her eyes dogging around. “Yeah... I met someone.”

“Oh,” you replied, your eyebrows rising up in surprise. You were thrilled Rue was using less, but you knew if her sobriety was because of a person, it wouldn’t last long. “Do I know them?”

“No, she’s new. Her name is Jules.”

“Jules,” you repeated, making sure you pronounced it right.

Rue nodded, her smile growing bigger. “Yeah, she’s here tonight. Pretty blonde in the bright pink mini skirt.”

“You look happy.”

She ran her fingers through her curls, pushing her hair back. “I’m working on it.”

It was quiet for a moment as you looked down at your cousin. “Hey, Rue.”

“Yeah?”

“I know we haven’t been talking, but... you know I’m here if you need me.” You placed your hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“I know,” Rue said nodding. Then you placed your other hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. Since you were on the step above her, you towered over her in the hug so you sat your chin on her head.

“Okay... you can let go now, Y/N,” Rue said after you were holding onto her a little too long.

“No, gotta make up for lost time,” you said, hugging her tighter.

“It wasn’t that much time.”

“It felt like forever,” you said dragging out the r then placing a bunch of kisses on Rue’s head.

“Ew, okay okay, I get it,” Rue said squirming in your arms. “Why don’t you go and kiss Fez?”

You stopped abruptly, pulling back slightly to look down at Rue. “Why would you say that? Did he... did he say something to you?”

Rue gently pushed herself out of your arms. “No, but it’s obvious something is happening between you two.”

“What,” you asked shaking your head, nervously running your hand over your hair. “Nothing’s happening. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends who wanna fuck,” Rue replied. She was always the blunt one in the family. 

“Rue!”

“Am I wrong,” she asked, her eyes on you.

“Uhh-I mean...”

“Un huh. Just tell him how you feel,” Rue said as she started to make her way back into the party.

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

Rue turned around so she was walking backwards now. “It is when the other person likes you back.” Then she turned back around and you lost sight of her in the sea of people.

“But...,” you shouted then began to whisper since you no longer saw her, “how do you know he likes me?”

Now you were nervous. You weren’t really one to flirt, at least not on purpose anyway. It was one thing to act normal around Fez and pretend you didn’t have a huge crush on him, it was another for someone to tell you he liked you and pretend to be normal. What if Rue was wrong? What if whatever sign she was getting from Fezco, was just him being a good friend, and not him being interested in you?

You made your way back into the party, but completely passed by the living room and went straight for the bathroom. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a line so you went right in. You locked the door then went to the mirror to look at yourself. Everything was still in place. Your lipstick was perfect. Your hair styled the way you liked it. Now, if only you could get that look of fear off your face. 

“Breath, Y/N,” you said to yourself. You took a long exhale then inhaled. “Rue wouldn’t lie to you... well, maybe about drugs but not about this. And it’s Fez. Just put out some feelers to see where his head is at.” You nodded at yourself then turned the faucet on to splash a little water on yourself. Then your eyes grew wide as you thought, looking at yourself in the mirror again. “But what if he’s just being nice? IT’S FEZ! He’d never intentionally be mean to me. So how will I know if he’s only being polite and not actually flirting with me. Ughh!”

You dried your hand on a nearby towel then turned away from the mirror. You took some deep breaths to try and shake off the nervous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. “Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine.” You thought about every time you hung out with Fez over the summer. Going to his house for the first time. Him giving you candy for free at the store. Him holding your hand on his couch. Fez was a good friend and you didn’t want to lose that, but you couldn’t keep holding your feelings for the ginger in. 

“Hey Y/N,” Fezco said once you stopped in front of him. A small smile growing on his lips. Somehow his eyes managed to shimmer in the crappy living room lighting. 

“Uh can you give me a ride home? I don’t feel so hot and I can’t find my friends.”

Technically it wasn’t a lie. You didn’t feel great. Your anxiety about asking Fez how he felt about you made you sick to your stomach.

“Sure thing, ma,” Fez replied, getting up from the couch without a second thought. Add that to the list of reasons you liked Fez. He would drop everything for you. The party wasn’t done so there was still money to be made, yet here he was, walking you out the party to his car.

The ride was quiet and awkward which was unusual. You only felt awkward around Fez when you had to bring up Rue’s drug addiction. Glancing over at Fez, he was oblivious to the worry that was going on in your head. His eyes focused on the dark road ahead as he nodded along to the music. The streetlights highlighting his freckles as you drove through the neighborhood. 

“Do you like me,” you asked, interrupting Fez.

Fez’s eyes left the road for a moment confused at your sudden change in the conversation. He readjusted himself in his spot before he spoke. “Yeah, course I like you. Wouldn’t be giving you a ride home if I didn’t.”

You shook your head annoyed. “No, Fez. I mean do you like like me? Like if we were in middle school and you found a note in your locker that said ‘do you like me? Yes or no.’ Which one would you circle?”

“Oh.”

Oh. OH! What did he mean by oh. Your brain was running a mile a minute now. Fez better say something else and quick. 

After what felt like forever, but was only about 5 seconds. “Yeah... thought it was obvious I was feelin’ you.” 

You let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. “Obvious?”

“Yeah, I mean I thought you was real cute that first day you came in the store grillin’ me about what I was sellin’ Rue.” Fez chuckled to himself remembering that day.

“You thought I was cute,” you asked baffled. This was all so confusing for you. 

Fez shook his head, eyes still focused on the road. “You gonna just keep repeating everything I’m sayin?”

“Uhh, yeah,” you replied, your eyes wide trying to prosses what he was saying to you. “It doesn’t make sense and you’re being so nonchalant about this.”

“How am I supposed to be?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, your hands flailing around. “Not like this! Just a minute ago I was freaking out wondering if I would ruin our friendship, or if there was even the slightest chance you liked me back... and you do. My brain can’t comprehend.” 

Fezco put his car in park and you realized you were in front of you house. “Well, comprehend, ma.”

You slouched back in your seat staring out at the road ahead of you taking it all in. Rue was right. “What do we do now?”

Fez reached over the center console and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Well, we could start with a date?”

You turned at looked at Fez, biting your lip to stop your smile from getting too big. “I’d like that,” you said, nodding your head.

“Cool,” Fez said smiling. 

“Cool,” you repeated grinning right back. 

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. 

“You know what. I’m feeling way better now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah... don’t think I’m quite ready to go inside yet.”

“You got something in mind?”

“Not really,” you said, pausing to think for a second. “Just not ready to leave you yet,” you replied, squeezing his hand a little while rubbing your thumb back and forth on the back of his hand.

Fezco’s checks got incredibly hotter as he looked away from you avoiding your eyes. He let go of your hand and put his car back in drive beginning to drive off then said, "I think I know a place."

[angelltheninth]

Things Din Does When He's Jealous

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, flirting, hugging, protectiveness, jealousy, grunting, silent threats, clingy!Din Djarin

A/N: He is the silent, jealous type and he's cute for it.

Jealous!Din who tries his best to keep his jealousy to himself. His armor is for more then protecting his body, it also helps him hide his emotions from the outside world when he needs to. He's a man of few words except to those he deems worthy, you being one of those people, the others, well he likes to keep them guessing a little.

Jealous!Din who does get jealous often actually, and very territorial when he does. Not with words but with actions more then anything. A few grunts, a tap on his blaster, his fingers twitching towards it and a slow turning of his head is enough to make someone back off.

Jealous!Din who can't help but think you can do better then him so when he sees someone hitting on you a part of him feels like he should let it happen. It hurts him of course, to think like this especially when he has so few things he can think of as his own.

Jealous!Din who goes to you almost without thinking about it, his legs leading him to where he's supposed to be, by your side. His hand will find yours, squeezing once, twice, tense, then relaxing when you squeeze back and tap on his helmet. Its a specific series of taps know to only the two of you that you do to calm his nerves down.

Jealous!Din who clings to you when he sleeps. Its one of the only times when he can relax out of his armor so you bet he's gonna take the chance to be as close to you as he can. And someone was around you, flirting with you before this he will get especially close, almost all the way on top of you, trying to breathe in your scent, absorb your warmth and give you all of his in return.

Jealous!Din who hogs all your attention when you're alone, but only when you're alone because you already know him so well. He kisses your cheek, strokes your thigh with his hand and casually bumps into you when you're passing by in the ship, making sure he's the only person on your mind.

Jealous!Din who gets a little shy when you take his helmet off and go in for a reassuring kiss. He can barely hold himself back from kissing you senseless, letting his feelings of jealousy and protectiveness and need overcome him and let everything out.

Jealous!Din who nuzzles his head against yours while he's wearing his helmet as a way of showing affection. Knows that this will also show others that you're someone important to you because usually he doesn't let anyone get anywhere close to his helmet, let alone initiate it himself.

Jealous!Din who is ready to fight someone when they don't back away from you when he gets there. Just him being there should have been enough but it seems like the other person has a bit of a death wish. Who knows they might actually be a dangerous criminal that he can get an award for. It would be nice, that way you never have to see their face again.

Jealous!Din who will take you away into a dark corner, pin you to the wall and lift his helmet for a lightning fast kiss. Sometimes he just can't wait to taste your lips, especially when they've been eyed by someone who isn't him. He needs to mark what's his.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #3

(I'm feeling kinda angsty today, I guess. If there's a fic/prompt like this already tho, please link me. 👀)

next →

✦

Reaper of Heroes

Once crowned as the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, Danny gains some grim reaper-like abilities and dominion over a specific subset of souls.

Heroes.

People who don masks and capes to protect the innocent from those who would harm them, just like he once did in the beginning of his existence as a halfa. He's was horrified by the responsibility but is eventually resigned to it. Due to bittersweet nostalgia, he quickly grows fond of the heroes that rose up after he took the throne and packed away the suit. Responsible he may be for the collection of their souls, but with council from Clockwork and the Ghost of Time's knowledge of the most desired paths, sometimes he'll just... let a soul slip through his fingers and return to it's vessel before it's chain is completely severed. He doesn't care that the observants complain constantly about those particular actions. If there's still room for a soul to do good for the better of everyone else, they can hardly stop him from straying from their plans. Much less with him as their king and protection as his obsession.

Only he is responsible for the reaping of these specific souls, unless delegated to one of the more common reapers at his command of course. Sometimes he follows his favorite heroes around, invisible to them unless he wishes them to see him or they're very close to death's door. He's trailed them so closely that some heroes have reported seeing a kind but sad looking man with white hair and aurora green eyes when they've nearly been pushed past the limits of their mortal bodies.

Ones who have passed through the veil but came back report vague memories of a similar sort; a kind man who cradled the very essence of their being with hands so gentle it's worth a few awe filled tears once he released them back amongst the living. The JL give him the moniker Grim, for his black and white coloring and for the shadowy scythe he carries not as a weapon but more like a key that unlocks the chain that binds them to their flesh. He never speaks to any of the heroes he interacts with tho. Always silent with a calculating, but sorrowful gaze.

At least until now.

When he appears before a bruised and beaten, young Jason Todd with whisper soft words in his ear as he comforted the concussed boy about to be killed in a fiery inferno at the hands of Gotham's mad clown.

As the explosion comes to a close, an unseen figure cradles the star-like light of a soul close to his chest as he wept and apologized for being unable to save the young soul from such a painful end but was thankful the poor boy this light belonged to could feel it no longer.

✦

What do you think? Angsty enough? I might have a little more to add to this but I'm gonna stop for now. I injured my hand yesterday, so it hurts to type for too long.

[marasvenus]

Your Next Step In School/Career ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Pictures above are edited by me but are not mine :)

Pile 1┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Okay, Pile One, I think we have a bit to unpack here 😭 so for some of you, you might have just finished up with a degree, possibly a degree that’s taken a very long time to obtain. I think it could be some veterinary degree of sorts? That could only be for a few of you so take what resonates.

It’s gonna sort to get oddly specific here so pls bear with me 😭 you might be going back to your home town or maybe just somewhere you haven’t lived for a very long time. For some of you, you may have moved away from home to go to college and then moved away from that college to continue your education elsewhere and now you’re doing back to where this town that you went to this college is. (I hope that makes sense and again, it’s oddly specific so pls take what resonates and leave the rest!)

You may just be struggling to find work now that you’ve graduated and it could simply be that there’s not many jobs available where you currently live. For some of you, you might be applying to jobs where you’re moving to and not hearing anything back and it may be really stressing you out and causing you to rethink this decision.

I think you’re making the right decision and moving away is what’s best for you. A big part of the next step in your career is making connections within your field. Possibly on LinkedIn or by going out and meeting new people. I think putting yourself out there and meeting new people will be what gets you a job or maybe applying gets you the job but something about communication and making connections/building relationships gets you where you want to be. This whole energy is giving me hallmark movie vibes for some reason but it’s really nice.

The stress and anxiety you’re currently feeling is understandable and it’s okay to feel that. You may also be dealing with grief/loss. Know that it’s okay to feel these things and allow yourself to feel them. You may he pushing away emotions because you’re afraid to let yourself feel them and it’s doing more harm then good. There’s this feminine energy that may be a spirit guide or passed loved one for some of you that wants you to know you’re doing better than you realize and you’re going to be okay. Just breathe. I heard “it all works itself out with time”

This is another specific message that you should only take if it resonates but some of you may have savings that you may need to dip into a little and you may be worried about it. You don’t have to clear out your savings and it’s important to still be careful with your money but it’s okay if you need to use it for moving expenses or anything expenses you have when you arrive to your new home. This also might just be a heads up from your guides that you will be using some of these savings on unexpected moving expenses/expenses in your new place. Again, only take it if it resonates.

This reading is much longer than I intended and a little all over the place so I’ll leave it here but just know that everything is gonna be alright, Pile One.

Pile 2┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Hello, Pile 2! So this energy is very different from Pile One. I think you all are just starting a new journey in school/career and are very excited but maybe nervous. Your nerves may be more about fitting in/making friends in this new setting. For those of you in college/university or entering college/university, definitely join clubs/groups. Specifically a study group. I think you’ll meet a lot of people and this will not only help with building friendships and meeting new people, but also with your studies/work and staying on track.

Coffee shops or some sort of small diners or something seem significant. Maybe like a Main Street restaurant or something? You could meet people here. Some of you may be coming out of a rough situation or maybe a breakup so this new start is a change to fully embrace and find yourself. Finding strength in alone time and independence while also creating beautiful connections and friendships and nurturing/maintaining those connections. Maybe this pervious situation/relationship was isolating and kept you away from people so this is really your chance to branch out and meet others and focus on yourself. You’ll meet people that encourage you to love yourself and build yourself up and it will be a really nice change of pace.

Some of you may start a new job? Possible a part time job while you’re in school. This may be where this cafe/Main Street restaurant or something comes in. It may be where you end up working. Some of you may have already seen job listings for a job like this but haven’t applied or are thinking about applying and I definitely think you should do it!

There’s just this energy here of a lot of new connections but there’s a specific one that seems very significant. I think you may be meeting your best friend in this next chapter of your life (specifically at this new job if that resonates) this isn’t giving romantic energy but it feels like a platonic soulmate. This is someone that will become like a sibling to you, like your favorite person and your other half. This is a very beautiful connection that you’re about to find, Pile Two 🥹

Overall, this is a very beautiful chapter for you and it’s important that you embrace it fully. The only thing I will say is that you may be very sure about your studies and think you’ll handle them very well (which is a great mindset to have and I want you to hold onto that mindset!) but they may become overwhelming and you could fall behind if you’re not careful. The study group I mentioned earlier will be very important and helpful in staying on top of things. You may push work aside to spend time with friends but just make sure to keep a good and equal balance between work and personal time.

Pile 3┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Now this may not resonate for all of you… but are some of you messing around with your boss 👀 again.. take it if it resonates but there definitely seems to be something with a boss. For some of you, maybe you’re boss is just attracted to you or you’re attracted to your boss, maybe there’s rumors/gossip going around in the workplace about the two of you or something. I think you’ve been offered a promotion or you are about to be offered a promotion but maybe you don’t feel like you’ve earned it because of this situation or maybe others have said you haven’t earned it because of this situation. If this is the case, I wanna tell you know that you 100% deserve anything and everything good and amazing and beautiful coming your way and you better not let anyone tell you otherwise.

Your energy is so powerful and magnetic and it’s clear that you have an incredibly strong work ethic. Maybe you work in a field that’s dominated by the opposite gender or maybe you’re young compared to others in your field? It could also be that you took a different route to getting into your field but there’s something that sets you apart from others you work with. Anyone around you that has something to say or that doubts your excellence and work ethic is simply jealous. Everything you have is yours because your earned it. I wish I could put this energy into words because it’s so incredibly powerful and you deserve to feel every ounce of it. You hold so much more power than you realize or give yourself credit for.

Your energy would be so good to have going into a job interview 😭 you have a very go getter vibe about you but you’re also very blunt and you tell it how it is and some people may not be able to take that (and that’s on them. Don’t ever change) some people may fear you getting this promotion because they know it means they can’t slack off or get away with as much because you’ll be on top of things. I heard “you run a right ship” you’ll make sure things are done correctly and on time and that every member of your team is playing apart in keeping this running properly and smoothly. Higher ups in your company or like CEOs or something may take notice because you keep things running so smoothly and there’s a significant change and improvement within the company.

Whatever this situation is with a boss (again, take it as it applies and only if it resonates) may sort of fall apart after your promotion. I think it could have to do with you doing so much better than them and being favored over them by higher ups in your company/corporation. I think this thing ending would be a good thing cause I don’t like this boss’ energy AT ALL. It just doesn’t match yours like it should and quite honestly, your energy is way too good to be involved in this person’s energy. This person just feels very icky and immature and you deserve much better.

Overall, know that good things come to you because you work for them and you deserve them. You attracted amazing things because you are an amazing person and it’s not your problem if someone else can’t handle that. You are magnetic, powerful, and worthy of every amazing thing coming your way. Don’t doubt yourself and continue to further your career. You have an amazing work ethic and a very strong and powerful voice and those two things will take you so so far in life. If no one else has told you recently, I’m proud of you and you got this.

Lastly, I just wanted to add that those people that have something to say or dislike you rn are going to come around and love you after they get to know you more. It’s going to take time for them to realize that their dislike for you comes from their own insecurities but once they do, they will see you for the beautiful human being that you are. Don’t change anything about yourself, let them realize they’ve been wrong this whole time.