#had. you had an uncle. he died. twice.

[doomed-jester]

Don't get me wrong, playing God of War: Ragnarök and I love it but... I REALLY wish the fanbase talked more about the older games!! It feels like the whole classic era got swept under the rug so we could focus on the new games.

Is there a tag for the older GoW stuff so I can find content relating to that era SPECIFICALLY? I dig the Greek stuff!!

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hello could you write a fic for miles42 having an airhead gf like shes his opposite (kind, always smiling, extroverted but shes a bit blunt) !! for the fic u can do wtv u want tbh !! but if u dont have any inspiration u could do something about her meeting miles42’s mom nd uncle or, him taking his gf on a date or wtv u want bc idk if my ideas are good lmaoo

(Hello! Sure I can and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Opposite!Reader

It's so funny how you guys even ended up getting together

You both obviously clash but oddly work out well together

Even Miles was surprised he ended up with you

"Blink twice if he kidnapped you, kid."

Words of Uncle Aaron the first time he met you

When Uncle Aaron and his mother met you, they probably thought he was gonna be with someone who matched him, probably Emo or at least similar to him

And to their surprise, and his mother's joy

You walked into the door!

His mother thinks your good for Miles, she sees you're able to get him to smile more, he's happier and she sometimes sees specks of Miles before his dad died come back

Even if Miles is surprised at himself he really does love you

He needs someone like you in his life

Walking down the street hand in hand people would never think that you guys were together

Even in photos, you're smiling, it always seems like he has a permanent frown on his face until out come along

It always looks like two completely different photos, but no

He warns you about being kind to everyone though, as he noticed is a habit of yours

Brooklyn isn't safe, everyone knows that and you could get hurt because you're too kind

You're kinda an airhead also

You once followed a man into his house because he said he had cats and she had kittens

Don't worry, the man was a kind and older man but the principle still stands

Miles noticed you're sorta an airhead, not a bad thing but something he looks out for you for

But he truly does love how much you care for him, his mom and even Uncle Aaron

When you guys first met he was a little suspicious

Just because he wasn't used to that in Brooklyn anymore

You were also incredibly blunt

He found it funny at first when it was at other people

He gets kinda frozen and can't help but sigh when it's directed at him

He thought Uncle Aaron would not like you when he brought you home

Not him mom

But you did great!

He didn't even need to warn you about calling his mom by her first name

He's gotta get used to you being so extroverted

Especially because now he is more closed off and likes to keep to himself more

Especially being the Prowler

But when you want to do anything and everything, social and make friends

He's the one looking over your shoulder and directing you away from assholes

He loves you, but he doesn't want you being hurt

You got them scary boyfriend privileges

I think you guys make a great pair

Miles was initially hesitant to introduce you to his mom and Uncle Aaron, but you wore him down.

So that's how he stood in the hallway of his own apartment like the guest, as his mother already liked you.

Plus, you didn't call her by her first name.

"Aye, you're so pretty, Mija." Miles' mother smiled at you, getting a genuine one back as she stood next to you, glancing at Miles.

"Oh, ¿cómo te las arreglaste?" Mrs. Morales started, her son blushed as he stood behind you, watching his mom practically flaunt around you.

"Mom!" Miles complained, Mrs. Morales waving him off with an eye roll.

"How did you meet my son of all people, hon?" Mrs. Morales asked, guiding you to the kitchen as you followed behind her, laughing under your breath.

"Well, I was walking to Mr. Gonzalez's bakery, and I was in line but I looked outside," you started, Miles freezing in embarrassment at the upcoming story as Uncle Aaron laughed.

"I saw Miles standing there in the window, but he was just staring at me?" You said, a confused tone in your voice as Miles could hear his mom chuckle.

"Anyway, I smiled at him and he sorta jumped. He…sorta smiled back? It was a little loopy but then he turned away real quick, but he tripped."

"Oh, man…" Uncle Aaron laughed, wrapping an arm around his nephew's shoulder as Miles looked down, blushing thankfully hidden as he hid his face in his shirt.

"He fell sorta hard so I went outside to help him, and yeah!" You smiled, Miles shaking his head as Uncle Aaron elbowed him.

"Stop…" Miles muttered, turning around to head to the kitchen as Uncle Aaron couldn't keep in his laugh any more.

Hey, you said it how it was.

Miles may complain about it, but seeing how you were sitting on the counter talking to his mom with a smile on his face, he couldn't complain about it much.

[steddieasitgoes]

not so dirty little secret

written for @steddie-week Day 1 prompt: Mystery/Secret Relationship Rating: T | wc: 2128 | no cw Read on ao3

Steve’s lounging on the Munson’s couch, right-hand wrist deep in a bowl of popcorn, when Eddie stalks into the room. He’s got two beers in hand and is mumbling about something, words muffled by the rim of the beer bottle as he takes aggressive sips. It’s not unusual to hear but not understand what his rumblings are — Steve’s become accustomed to his quiet but loud brainstorming sessions. What is unusual, however, is the pinch of his brows and the slight downturn of his lips as he does so. Curious, Steve perks up and leans forward.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Eddie gasps, scandalized. “My thoughts are worth at least a dime, Stevie!” 

Taking a more calculated, calming swig of his beer, he drapes himself on the couch beside Steve and sighs. “I think Wayne is knocking boots with someone.” 

The words leave Eddie’s mouth with a nonchalance, as if he’s giving Steve an update about the weather.  It’s something he does often with no explanation, at least not one Steve’s discovered yet, and it’s quickly becoming another quirk in a long list of ones he’s coming to love about Eddie.  

This though… this is a whole other monster. 

Steve's eyes widen and blink in confusion. His lips fall into a soft, confused pout as he tilts his head to the side — the tell-tale sign that he has no idea what Eddie is talking about. It’s a sign Eddie picks up on immediately, with — the both of them well-versed in their non-verbal body language as of now, so he clarifies. 

“You know, knocking boots? Doing the dirty? Bumping uglies? Hanky Pa—“ 

Well, over-clarifies. 

“I get it!” Steve shouts, face reddening.

It’s weird, feeling the heat spread across his cheeks and down his neck. He’s never been embarrassed by sex before. Kind of hard to be when his entire high school reputation revolved around who he was (or wasn’t) jumping into bed with. Never mind the fact that he actually only ever did it twice. He couldn’t go a week without it being brought up at least once, and each time, Steve had glided through the conversation with flying colors, hardly embarrassed. 

Back then was different, though. It was all talk at the end of the day. Mostly make-believe talk. This, though? Listening to Eddie talk about his uncle’s very real sex life? He’d be concerned if he didn’t find it mortally embarrassing. 

Clearing his throat, Steve shifts in his seat. 

“Does it matter if he is? Ya’ know, bumping boots or whatever?” 

Eddie cackles, throwing his entire body into it until the bowl of popcorn topples over onto the couch between them. So much for movie night Steve thinks as he tries to save as many of the kernels as he can before they fall into the couch cushion abyss. Not like he had been looking forward to eating or anything. 

“Does it matter if he is?” Eddie huffs, half-mocking Steve as he shakes his head. “Of course, it matters! It’s my uncle! What if we like, walked in on him or something because we don’t know what’s going on? That would scare me for life, Stevie. I’d need therapy!” 

“You’re already in therapy.” 

“Well, I’d need another therapist. One who specializes in the traumatic experience of walking in on your parental figure getting his di—“ 

“Let’s just rewind for a minute.” Steve shuts his eyes, willing his brain not to conjure up the image Eddie’s so keen on painting for him. His therapy bills are expensive enough, he doesn’t need to add another session just to talk about whatever the hell this conversation is. “If Wayne is in a relationship, which you don’t even know if he is, why would he keep it a secret?” 

“I don’t know. You’ve met him! He’s weird and secretive like that. I didn’t even  know his middle name until I was fourteen and swiped his license so I could buy cigarettes.” 

Steve remembers that story. It was one of the first of many never-ending cascades of embarrassing childhood stories Wayne shared with him that always turned Eddie scarlet. Eddie always gets upset when Wayne tells them, never failing to pout over not having someone on Steve’s side to badger for his own stories. Steve, happy to keep his past in the past, has grown used to shrugging him off and urging Wayne to tell him more.

“Not telling you his middle name is a lot different than hiding an entire person,” Steve continues to reason as he relocates the popcorn bowl to the table in front of them. “Why do you think he’s hiding someone anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Eddie says, turning on the couch to better face Steve. He folds one leg under himself, the other hanging off the edge, foot planted and bouncing in an erratic rhythm Steve’s willing to bet is a new beat for a song. Eddie takes one more swig of his beer and then clears his throat as he claps his hands together. “Evidence número

 uno, he’s been smiling more lately.” 

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re back home and on the mend.” 

“Hey! Don’t interrupt me to remind me that my uncle loves me. It ruins my street cred.” 

Steve shoots his hands up in defense, shaking his head at his boyfriend's antics. 

“Evidence numéro deux—“

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin,” Steve mumbles, taking a swig from his own beer this time. All this language-switching is giving him a headache. 

“Evidence numéro deux!” Eddie repeats, louder this time as he holds up two fingers. He’s kneeling now, knees sinking into the well-loved fabric of the couch. “He’s been using a new mug.” 

“Someone call the police! Wayne’s using a new mug.” 

If looks could kill, Eddie would be a modern day Medusa and Steve would be stoned to the couch.

“Evidence number three — and this is the most damning of evidence — Wayne has had plans every Monday night for the last two months.” He jumps to his feet now and begins pacing around the living room. 

Wait, Monday nights? But that’s — 

Oh. 

Eddie is so off base. So, so, so far off base, he might as well be lost in space. Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The last thing he wants to do is upset him more than he already has with his interjections. 

But this is hilarious. Downright hysterical. 

And honestly, the truth might be a harder pill for Eddie to swallow than this mystery lover he’s dreamed up. Because that is way easier to explain than the truth, that Wayne has been spending every Monday night for two months with Steve… watching football. 

“Two months, Stevie!” Eddie shouts, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “He comes home from work, changes, and then he leaves and doesn’t come back home for hours! I mean, maybe I’m being a bit generous since he is gone for hours. I can’t imagine he’d have that kind of stamina, but maybe he—” 

The front door opens, interrupting whatever cursed thought was about to spill from Eddie’s lip to reveal the older man in question. Steve’s never been so grateful to see Wayne — even if he’s the reason this entire conversation is happening right now. 

“Eds. Steve.” Wayne nods at each of them before crossing into the kitchen to fetch his own beer. He returns a moment later, collapsing into his recliner with the same dramatics as Eddie. “What are ya boys talkin’ ‘bout?” 

It’s kind of hard to be a religious man when he’s witnessed hell on Earth and had to claw his way out of it, no sign of divine intervention in sight. And yet, Steve can’t help but shut his eyes and say a silent prayer to whoever may be listening that his boyfriend keeps his mouth shut for once in his life. 

The power of prayer isn’t on Steve’s side though apparently, as he watches Eddie’s eyes get that twinkle in them right then and there, a mischievous glint that he has a love-hate relationship with. Sure, it’s cute as hell, but god dammit, every time it happens, Steve ends up having to bail him out of trouble. He really doesn’t want to have to do that right now, not for this. 

“Funny you should ask, Wayne—“

The intro to the seven o’clock news cuts him off. Maybe Steve’s prayers have been answered. Maybe this is what people talk about when they say that God works in mysterious ways. Maybe— 

“We’re coming to you live from The Hoosier Dome to bring you breaking news about our Indianapolis Colts.” 

“Bet it’s got to do with that coach they got runnin’ the place. Still can’t believe he ran that damn childish play on Monday.” 

“Tell me about it,” Steve says, shaking his head. “You know how I feel about the Colts, but you should’ve won that game.” 

“Least we get a rematch later in the season,” Wayne says, sipping his beer. “We gotta go to Diana’s for that game. If we lose, I can drown my sorrows in a real whisky instead of that cheap shit Glen keeps selling us.” 

“Us?” Eddie balks.

Steve watches in real time as Eddie puts the pieces together. His eyes widen then narrow into judgemental slits. His lips purse, head swiveling between the two of them and the television like he does when he’s DMing an intense session for the kids. Eddie’s sharp, always has been, and he wears his emotions on his face, so it’s easy to know when everything clicks in that chaotic mind of his. He might as well have buzzers going off behind him. 

“You!” He shouts, pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s direction. “You’re the one keeping my uncle out late! Making him happy!” 

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout?” Wayne asks.

Steve bits his lip. “Eddie, uh, thought you had a secret lover that’s been keeping you out on Monday nights.” 

“A secret lover?” Wayne laughs. “On a Monday night? Boy if I was gettin’ handsy with someone it wouldn’t be on no Monday night. I’m a Friday night gentleman, you know that. Maybe even Saturday mornin’ if I’m lucky.” 

“I don’t know anything anymore!” Eddie shouts, really doubling down on his theatrics. There’s a moment of calm before his brain conjures up something sinister — at least, Steve thinks it must be really bad judging by the paleness in Eddie’s face and the anger in his eyes. Finally, he explodes. “You’re cheating on me with my Uncle!” 

“I am not!” 

“Maybe not physically — Jesus H. Christ, ew, please please tell me it’s not physical. I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“Now hold your horses a minute, Eds.” Wayne stops Eddie in his tracks with an easy hand around his wrist. “Steve here ain’t do nothin’ wrong but offer me his company during the games. I’d watch them with you. Hell, we both would. But, we know you hate ‘em.” 

“So it’s my fault then?” 

“I ain’t say that.” 

“You implied it, old man!” Eddie says, jabbing his finger in Wayne’s direction now. “You better keep your blue-collar hands away from my debutant boyfriend.” 

“You two are both ridiculous,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. He turns to Eddie, giving his best attempt as his puppy dog apology eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret. You’re just never home on Mondays anyway, so we never thought to mention it. But if it bothers you so much, come with us this week. You’ll see for yourself no one’s stealing my honor, or whatever and it’s going to be a good game.” 

“Not for the Colts,” Wayne grumbles. 

Eddie makes a big show of considering the offer before shuttering. “And spend the night at Glen’s sports bar? I think I’d rather you cheat on me with my uncle—“ 

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Steve runs a frustrated hand down his face. “It’s grossing me out. No offense, Wayne.” 

“I’d be offended if you weren’t grossed out, son.” 

“Hey! I was talking,” Eddie squawks. Steve gives him his undivided attention, Wayne’s not so graceful, offering him a grunt and a hand gesture telling him to stop blocking the television. “As I was saying, you two can have your little sports bromance thing, butI do expect you to buy me a new mug for all my troubles, Stevie. S’not fair you got one for Wayne and not me.” 

“I’ll take you to the store tomorrow, and you can pick it up yourself.” 

“Thank you.” After a moment, Eddie sinks back into his side of the couch cushion and reaches for the half-full bowl of popcorn on the table. “Now, let’s start this movie night.” 

[19burstraat]

Random SOC Trivia I Gathered On My Reread

I'll be using this for fics, but it's fun just to read!

Jesper does not hold alcohol well (though this is according to Kaz, who is not exactly impartial)

Wijnstraat, Nemstraat, Havenstraat, Ammberstraat are all street names if you want em

Van Eck has been involved in trying to clean up the Barrel; pious. (Allegedly pious, I doubt he really is)

1/5 Van Eck (or general Kerch trading?) vessels are lost at sea

Kaz arrested three times at ten, twice at eleven, once at fourteen. Does stints in jail but it does not say prison (ppl assume he's been to Hellgate / another prison but I don't think so. He'd never have shut the fuck up about it if he had; I assume the Stadhall Jail)

Kaz's cane is lead-lined. I wasn't sure if this was canon or fanon

Kaz runs book on prize fights, horses, and chance games. Floor boss at crow club since fifteen-ish. Youngest to run a betting shop and has doubled the profits.

Gambling halls: Treasure Chest, Golden Bend, Weddell's Riverboat, Silver Garter

West Stave brothels: The Blue Iris, The Forge, The Obscura, the Willow Switch, the House of Snow

Van Aakster is the widow mercher who sees Nina to ease his grief

Inej likes orange cakes in white paper

Black Tips tattoo is a hand with first and second fingers cut at the knuckle, Razorgulls is 5 birds in wedge formation

Nina Jesper and Kaz definitely all have the crow and cup; the others don't

Jordie seems to like books

ridderspel and spijker are arcade games

Bilge, clams, and wet stone smell in the Barrel (per Retvenko)

Kaz definitely is partial to dogs; Smeet's hounds and the grey dog the Hertzoon household had, the windup dogs, the metaphors. He loves a dog metaphor sorry ur not real babycakes you'd have loved thematic web weaving posts

Geldspin is the cotton mill in Zierfoort, Firma Allerbest is a cannery. Both in Alys' name

Wylan was 8 when Marya 'died'

the black veil tomb is carved like an ancient cargo ship

3 flying fish on a grave: government. Palm trees and snakes: spices.

Inej's mother braids her hair with orange ribbons (colour of persimmons)

University a series of buildings built around the Boekcanal and joined by Speaker's Bridge (where people debate and/or drink). Boeksplein four libraries built around a central courtyard and the Scholar's Fountain

Shipping container at third harbour is a Liddie hideout; Jam Tart House is an old hotel near the slat that the Razorgulls use

Long scar across Kaz's right knuckle

Violating contracts and interfering with the market can get you hanged in Kerch; same sentences as for murder (this is. Insane)

Haskell holds court with his mates at the Fair Weather Inn every week

Belendt is the second oldest Kerch city and sits on the Droombeld River

Jesper was 7 when Aditi died

Inej has an uncle (who seems to have some sort of ringmaster role) and cousins; Hanzi and Asha

Kaz convinced a locksmith in Klokstraat that he was the son of a wealthy merchant who highly valued his collection of priceless snuffboxes, and that's how he knows what locks the rich are using

Hubrecht Mohren, Master Thief of Pijl, who Kaz doesn't appear to think much of; one of Haskell's old cronies

Martin Van Eck, Wylan's great great grandfather, was a ship's captain, brought back a big shipment of spices from Eames Chin and started the Van Eck fortune

Kaz and Jesper (+ other Dregs boys) taught Inej to fight

Kaz and Jordie are from a town near Lij, as per the 'Johannus Rietveld' exposition, but Lij is seemingly the closest major city/county so it's easier to just say they're from Lij lol

The last time the Council of Tides appeared in public was 25 years prior to CK

Kaz found Filip running a monte game on Kelstraat; he also got the clerks who turned over fake info, the fake attorney, the man who gave them free hot chocolate

The spelling of Zentzbridge lapses to Zentsbridge, not sure which is right or if they're actually separate bridges or if there's a lot of wrong quotes floating around lol

Dryden house symbol is the golden wheat sheaf bound with a blue ribbon; Van Eck is the red laurel but we knew that

Kaz taught himself finance and gambling hall rules

Church of Barter roof is copper and long has turned green

Church of Barter built around the First Forge / The Mortar, which is a flat lump of rock that's supposedly Ghezen's altar

Ghezendaal Hospital is. Idk. a hospital. Just thought ppl might want the name

[mxzenpai]

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

He’s In Love

Three times others realized he was in love, and the one time he realized it.

————————————————————————

Ruggie found pride in the fact he was one of the few who could wake Leona without completely angering him. Of course, he had food with him every-time he woke the prince so that most likely has something to do with it. However, Ruggie will take his wins and successes where he can get them. Today however, was not one of those days. Ruggie simply did not have the time to get Leona his lunch and deliver it to him in the botanical garden. Instead, he found himself seated at a lunchtable, papers scattered around him as he crammed for his exam next class. Maybe he should have studied like Jack suggested.

You offered to take Ruggie’s place of handling Leona and Ruggie, feeling the stress of failure, happily accepted the offer. He didn’t think about the fact that Leona would not like being woken up by you, or the fact that you did not know what Leona liked to eat. He was too busy looking at his papers to even notice you left the cafeteria without a single ounce of food in your hands.

He looks up from his writing when he hears someone sit in front of him, eyes widening upon seeing you. You smile at him. “I got him.” Ruggie blinks, pencil going slightly slack.

“What do you mean you got him?” You tilt your head, pointing over to the lunch line. Ruggie thought he died and went to heaven when he looked over. He saw Leona of all people, standing in line. His tail was flicking in slight agitation, and he was looking around the room with boredom, but he was there. Ruggie’s view snaps back to you. “How did you manage that?!”

“I asked him to come to the lunchroom since it was time to eat?” You didn’t seem to grasp what was so baffling about the situation. Ruggie blinks once, then twice. He looks down at the table and realizes you don’t have any food.

“Where’s your food?” You go to respond before food is placed in front of you. Ruggie watches as Leona is the one to place said food, ruffling your hair as you say thanks before taking a seat next to you with his own meal. That’s when everything clicks for Ruggie. He laughs to himself, watching the two of you interact in amusement.

He leans on his hand, wondering how long exactly it will take Leona to notice his feelings for you.

————————————————————————

Cheka very happy to meet his uncle’s friend, you were very nice and happily played with him while Leona napped. Apparently his visit was when you two were supposed to have a study session, whatever that was, but you didn’t seem too upset by his interruption. Cheka pouts, cheeks puffed as he crosses his arms. “I’m hungry though!” You sigh, placing down the toy you had.

“The cafeteria isn’t open…I could try getting you a snack from the dorm’s kitchen, but I don’t want to overstep.” Cheka huffs, looking over at his sleeping uncle before climbing to his feet and rushing over. He climbs onto the bed with great effort before shaking Leona’s arm.

“Uncleeeeeeeee I’m hungry and (Y/N) is too scared to cook!” Your eyes widen in offense at the blunt statement of the child before rushing over to scoop him up.

“Cheka! Let him sleep, come on now!” The little beastman wiggles out of your grip, landing back onto the bed with a thump. Leona’s tail flicks in agitation, ears twitching at the noise. His eyes open and they glare at Cheka. You wince but Cheka simply smiles a toothy grin.

“Let’s go get something to eat! We can have a picnic! Oh! Or a…buffet, or-“ Strings of laugher leave the child’s lips as he’s struck with a pillow by Leona. You’re quick to catch Cheka and prevent him from tumbling off the bed.

“Leona!” You scold and said beastman rolls his eyes.

“He was bein’ too noisy.” You roll your eyes in return, placing a giggling Cheka on your hip.

“Well, since you’re up. Cheka and I are going to go out for a bit.” You turn and Cheka watches from over your shoulder as Leona gets up, beginning to put his shoes on. You bend down, picking up Cheka’s toys and putting them in one of his bags. Leona comes up behind the two of you and Cheka watches as he slaps your hand away when you attempt to open the door.

“No.” That’s all that leaves his uncle’s lips before Cheka watches him open the door for you, stepping to the side to allow you to walk out of the room first. You huff in amusement, stepping through the doorway with Cheka before Leona does the same, shutting the door behind him. Cheka blinks, still on your hip as he watches Leona situate himself to the left of you, tail idly swaying and ears flicking gently at the sound of your humming. Cheka’s own tail begins to sway in happiness. Eyes widening in delight. That’s something his Father does! Holds the door open, walks on the left. Ears perked and ready to listen for whatever his Mother says! And his tail is showing he’s happy! You two are acting like his parents!

You were very confused when Cheka began to call you Auntie/Uncle (Y/N) later that day.

————————————————————————

Jack was not expecting this today. Spelldrive games were never easy, taking a lot of athletic skill to play effectively. However, he seemed to be the only one to notice that their team was doing better than usual. Jack’s ear flicks as he thinks, eyes scanning the sidle lines as he takes a sip of water. His eyes pause for a moment when he recognizes you in the crowd. Your eyes connect and you send over an overly enthusiastic wave. Jack responds accordingly before placing his water down, preparing to go back in.

He watches as Leona moves across the field. Fang piercing his lip slightly as he continues to look. Leona put effort into the game, Jack knew that, this much effort though? No. Gears begin to turn as Jack attempts to think of what was causing it. His family wasn’t here and if they were then Leona would have been a no show. Ruggie could have offered him something…must’ve been a good deal. Jack’s ears pin back as the signal of the game ending rings out across the field. It was always noisy.

The crowd cheers at the results of the game and Jack watches as the other team sulks, feeling slightly smug at the feeling of victory coursing through his veins. Leona is quick to make his way to the bench, grabbing his water and downing it, tail flicking as sweat drips down his forehead.

“Didn’t think you could move like that.” Leona pauses, turning to Jack with a quirked brow. Jack is quick to correct himself. “I mean, I know you’re good, just the effort is a bit surprising is all.” Leona goes go bite back before being cut off by another voice.

“That was great! I still don’t really understand what’s going on, but I think I’ll get it in time.” Jack’s lips curl up as he spots you bouncing on your heels before turning back to Leona. The lion beastman has a small smile on his own lips as he looks at you.

“Yeah? I’ll explain what you don’t get. After a nap though. I’m exhausted.” You nod enthusiastically, folding your hands behind your back.

“Want me to come with? I won’t sleep, but I can stay occupied and quiet.” Leona scoffs.

“I don’t care.” Jack watches as Leona walks away, you taking a stance next to him. Leona is quick to correct where you stand, making sure you’re on his right. Jack watches as your figures get smaller as you make your way to the Hall of Mirrors.

So that’s why today’s game was so easy.

————————————————————————

Leona didn’t need anyone. He was fine all on his own. That’s what his pride and ego told him. He was sitting at his chess board, playing against himself as you read a book on his bed. You were playing with the lion earlier, but became slightly discouraged at losing over and over again. Leona’s tail flicks as he thinks, eyes hovering over the king and queen pieces standing next to each other on the black side of the board. His ear twitches as he hears you move slightly on his bed and glances over.

His ears pin back as he notices the book you were reading lays slack in your hand, your head titled as your back leans against the headboard. How you managed to fall asleep in the position the beastman will never know. Leona watches your chest rise and fall slowly, leaning on his hand as his elbow rests on the table he sits at. That cannot be comfortable. With an eye-roll, he stands up and makes his way over to you.

The book is gently placed on the bedside table, Leona making sure to mark the page. The beastman then gets to work, lifting you up to place you on the bed comfortably. He glances back at the chess board for a moment before looking back down at you. He clenches his jaw before he crawls into the bed alongside you. His breathe hitches as you cuddle up against him and Leona begins to run his fingers through your hair.

A soft smile is on his lips as he continues to play with your hair, making sure to not tug and if he runs into a knot, to gently undo it. He leans down, giving you a soft kiss on the crown of your head before pausing. Leona’s eyes widen in alarm at his actions. Oh…oh. You and him need to have a talk later. Well, he has to talk to you. Leona’s face scrunches up just thinking about it. However, for now he is going to take advantage of the situation and rest.

He wraps his arms around you, closing his eyes as his tail thumps against the mattress. His tail settles as his breathing slows. Yeah…he’ll tell you later. He wants this to continue.

[despairots]

miles 42 and miles 1610 are twins and fight over reader and try to impress her and stuff

━━━━━━━━ talk about first impressions.

earth1610! miles morales x gn! reader x earth42! miles morales. fluff and warning, there’s some suggestive comments from grown adults. i started this yesterday but im posting once/twice a day until i burn myself out from writing and deleting requests. reader is like peni parker. ignore the description, my brain was idk.

please remember that in my last oneshot, earth 1610 miles will be spiderman and earth 42 miles will be the prowler, the two are vigilantes, keep that in mind. also you’re an anarchist lolsies!!1!1! the spanish translation might not be accurate. leaving this on a cliffhanger too LMFAO. you’re always an anarchist in these oneshots.

where the morales twins can’t help but fall for the technology nerd who can do a lot of things, trying to impress you and gift you stuff in public, and with you, obviously being a talented person, you apparently have a lot of admirers, especially weird, old, strange adults.

you sighed in embarrassment at the two morales twins trying one up eachother with giving gifts to you or impressing you. some people would call you lucky, some would be jealous of you.

being fought over the two most attractive guys in brooklyn vision who may look the same but act like polar opposites is a nightmare.

the two may be extremely smart and artistic but they for sure, had different personalities.

miles morales is smart and passionate, committed to others before himself. he has a lot of love for science and art, which he got from his mother, making inventions since he was younger.

the two are both suckers for music, mixing beats as a hobby with their uncle aaron when they were younger.

miles is sociable around crowds, as even when he struggled to fit in after moving to brooklyn vision, would often start conversations with those he came across on the street.

though many of his acts are selfless, mikes is partly driven by low self-confidence in his own abilities, feeling smaller than he is.

since becoming spiderman, miles is extremely eager to help others. this is as much to his credit as it is to his detriment, as he will often put himself in grave, life-threatening danger, in his quest to protect his friends and those he cares about.

myles morales, on the other hand, may also be smart but he’s closed off only being carefree with you and his twin brother. he also has a lot of love for art, spray painting with his brother.

myles isn’t one to talk, again, he’s closed off and usually upholds a stoic persona, opposed to his brother who doesn’t have a problem showing how passionate and cheerful he is.

with him being the prowler, and technically being labeled as ‘spidermans rival’, ignoring that the prowler is his own being. he had a strong morality of protecting his family and you after his father had died.

to which leads him also going into life-threatening dangers.

“[name], do you have any idea how lucky you? like, i would die to be in your spot!” you rolled your eyes at that sentence, “then do it.” your snark reply made a few people in the hallway snicker.

now back to you, [name] [lastname], the robot-technology-hacking loving nerd that grew with the morales twins and them fighting over you, it’s not something that’s lucky.

that constantly one-upped eachother to gain your attention, to the point they wouldn’t HESITATE to embarrass eachother in front of you along with literally fighting who got the best present for you.

it didn’t help since you liked both of them, i mean, how couldn’t you not like them? they were literally labeled ‘most attractive boys alive’ and their personality didn’t help, why do you think you fell deeply in love?

“i got the best gift-“

“i did!”

your bestfriend, gwen stacy, sneaked her arm around you, “i obviously did.” she gave you a smug looked as you sighed in your hands with embarrassment, remembering the time you two accidentally kissed (more like pecked eachother on the lip).

you two vowed to never talk about that again but since that was two years ago, you guys are all 15 by the way, which you guys were 13 by the time she stole your first kiss.

the morales twins didn’t like that, uhh, next!

“ahora no es el momento, gwen.” you muttered, expressing massive stress from the two and the welcomed gwen, “i — uh, failed spanish.” you made a ‘that’s-the-point-‘ look.

“siempre suenas bien hablando en español.” myles commented, shooing gwen’s arm off your shoulder and throwing his arm over yours instead.

“get apagado de [nombre], myles.” miles rolled his eyes and scoffed at his twin, “at least i get an a+ in spanish.” miles gasped at the comment with offence.

“this is why you’re failing science, estúpido!”

“estoy siendo peleado por gemelos estúpidos.” you pinched the bridge of your nose before sneaking out between the twins quarrel, heading over to foam party.

did i mention that you won awards and was on the news for making a working robot suit and finding out how to time travel?

mutters and comments were heard in the coffee shop, irritating your already bad headache. ‘i hate society.’ you rubbed your temples, before ordering your drink and waited.

apparently those minutes of waiting, you got… weird, suggestive comments from grown adults. your face scrunched up every time they said something about you.

“that shirt really compliments your curves.”

you’re were just 15.

“you’ll find a person just like me.”

they were in their late 30s.

“how ‘bout instead of wasting your pretty little time in this coffee shop, you come to my place.”

you just wanted your coffee.

“can i get your number?”

stop.

“you’re really sexy.”

stop it.

they tried grabbing your hand.

“i’ll treat you better.”

stop it. they tried kissing your hand before someone clocked them in the face, “aren’t you an adult, man?” miles’ voice was heard beside your ear as he tried comforting you.

myles rubbed his knuckles with a grossed look on his face. they saw that they were harassing you as you tried to move away from them, worst thing yet, nobody tried to do anything.

they saw what was happening but didn’t help, god they really hated adults.

“acércate a ellos, y será mucho peor que un puñetazo en la cara.” they ran off, myles grabbed your order as the three of you left. it was quiet, too quiet for your looking.

“i could’ve handled that y’know—“ miles handed you a box, opening it to which showed a necklace with a charm that was your hacker logo. you could feel the myles’ eye twitched.

“remember i got [name] a car—“

“shut the hell up, man!”

[name] after the morales twins keep giving them money and gifts.

[hawkinsmethlab]

Part Two

Read on AO3

The first time they kiss, Eddie is technically dead. Or, does CPR even count? Steve’s tempted to say no, because that’s not how kissing works. (He would know the best out of any of them, right?) The cracking of ribs under his hands and the taste of blood in his mouth, how desperately he’s blowing air into too-heavy lungs and listening to one of his best friends cry so hard he’s dry heaving.

But he doesn’t stop, not until there’s a pulse, however weak.

Eddie dies twice on the way to the hospital. They tell Steve later that he died again when he was on the operating table and nearly didn’t get him back.

Steve runs himself ragged over the next month, between volunteering at the community center, donating blood and making sandwiches, helping to clear the streets of debris, patrolling for Upside Down shenanigans and playing chauffeur for his gang of kids who aren’t acting so much like kids these days. He visits Max and Eddie as often as he can. Max still hasn’t woken up and nobody’s sure when that might be, but he gets to have his first conversation with Eddie about a month later.

He’s only been awake for a week, and still can’t do much of anything but talk, and even that’s hit or miss most days. Even when he can kind of hold a conversation, he gets tired too fast for it to mean much, but everyone Steve talks to is upbeat about his recovery.

He hadn’t been planning on actually sitting with him, there’s still so much to do, but Wayne had asked him to hang out while he ran to grab himself some lunch. Who is he to deny that man anything, especially something so easy as watching a half-comatose idiot?

Eddie wakes up after about a minute of Steve being there. When he notices him, Eddie’s eyes go glazed and he’s got a dopey smile.

“They’ve got you on the good stuff, huh?” Steve says.

Eddie nods, but his muscles are loose so it’s more of a roll. “Oh, yeah. I’d make a fortune off the stuff if I could get my hands on it. But, shh, don’t tell. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay, man, whatever you say. My lips are sealed or whatever.”

“Mmm.” Eddie squints at him then, frowns until he’s pouting. “Sorry you had to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lay one on me,” he says, eyes closed now. “Bet you hated it. Bet it tasted awful.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fights back the smile his lips are trying to pull up into. “Appreciate the concern. Lucky for you, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t tasted before. And I didn’t. Hate it.”

Eddie’s eyes open so fast Steve worries they’re gonna fly out of his skull. “You what?”

“I was saving your life, dude,” Steve says. Duh. “Hard to hate something like that. I mean, maybe if it hadn’t worked then it might be a different story but--”

“Oh. Right.” Eddie relaxes back into his pillow. He’s trying to keep his eyes open, on Steve, but it’s a fight he isn’t going to win. He’s like a kid trying to stay up past his bedtime, and this time Steve can’t force down the smile in time.

“Just go to sleep,” he tells him. “Your uncle will be back soon.”

“Been sleepin’ forever, I’m sick of it. Keep havin’ weird dreams.”

“...Yeah, I’ve been there.”

Silence settles between them, broken by beeps of machinery, distant footsteps and announcements from the hallway. Eddie’s eyes are closed again, his brow still creased. Steve thinks he might have actually fallen back asleep until he sees his lips move.

Steve scoots a little closer. “Are you trying to say something?”

Eddie sniffs, make the face like he’s pouting again. “I said, I’mma make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“Bad first kiss.” Eddie shakes his head. “I can do better. Wanna do-over.”

Steve freezes like a deer in headlights. Like he has a gun to his head. Like he just heard the front door open and he knows it’s his parents coming home. He knows it’s the drugs talking and that Eddie doesn’t know what he’s saying, not really. At the end of the day he probably isn’t going to remember this conversation.

Eddie is in a hospital bed, hooked up to about a dozen different machines looking like he’s been hit by a train, his skin so pale that Steve can make out every vein, every bruise and cut and stitch. Long fingernails and peeling scabs that crawl up his neck like a fungus. He’s drooling a bit from the side of his mouth and his eyes are still crusty with sleep and he’s got a smattering of acne that’s cropped up on his forehead and nose, along the edge of his chin. His bangs are pinned back because they’re so greasy.

Steve’s heart races anyway.

There’s a correct answer here, the one he’s been raised with, the one beaten into him. The instinctual urge to brush it off as a joke (ha, good one, man) to take it as an insult (remember who you’re talking to, Munson) to ignore it altogether (just go back to sleep).

Then there’s the incorrect answer.

“Alright, Munson,” he says, softly, terrified. “Once you’re all better, you can show me what I missed out on.”

Through the exhaustion and the pain meds, Eddie grins. “Watch out, Harrington. I’m about to rock your world.”

Steve smiles. He doesn’t fight it this time. “Can’t wait.”

[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 3440

warning | brief mention of injuries / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie 

note | not the proudest of my writing here. also, a disclaimer that the events in this fic will deviate from canon haha

parts | one, two, three, four

"Uncle Aaron, I think we forgot to get detergent."

"You forgot to get detergent. I didn't forget nothing."

Miles's shoulders slumped in distaste. His frown mirrored the quiet complaints he spilled out of his mouth as his fingers tugged at the grocery bags dangling on them. He must have been delirious to still forget an item written on a piece of paper and to think the word 'detergent' wasn't even crossed out on the grocery list his mother gave him. It wouldn't be too big of a deal, but he imagined his mother would be mumbling about it as she set the table for dinner. 

The doorknob fumbled a bit before the door swung open. The brightness in your eyes dimmed upon seeing Uncle Aaron's furrowed brows, which reminded you of the cautionary tale he kept retiring about being aware of opening doors to unknown knocks in case of danger. You still had difficulty getting used to a dangerous Brooklyn because yours was bright and sunny, and it had its very own Spiderman. Miles had laughed when you told him about your Brooklyn, asking if there was a ranking for crime fighting bug of the week; Spiderman today, something like Ant-man tomorrow?

“If I’d been a serial killer–“

“Which you are not,” you sang with vague cheerfulness as you tried to take the groceries from his hand. 

“Hence the question being hypothetical–“

“Miles! You’re home!”

“Mi vida.” It was not audible. He opened his arms habitually and let you dive into his embrace. “How’s your day? Did you glitch?” 

You perked up from where you buried your face in his shoulder and examined the bracelet permanently latched around your wrist. Gwen was the one who put the finishing touches on it, and she was so excited about the product that she came over in the middle of the night to hand it to you. It has been about two weeks since you began wearing it, and you have not glitched once. You told Miles it should be safe to conclude that the bracelet worked, but he always asked for good measures anyway. 

“I helped around the house, as always,” you replied. Fixing the bracelet, you felt a soft magnetic pull against the tips of your fingers that touched the metal. You let go of it and rested your chin on Miles’s shoulder, sighing in contentment at the mere solidity of his body. “I didn’t glitch.”

Knowing that he was not being paid attention to, Aaron decided against scolding you for cutting him off twice. Instead, he rolled his eyes and turned to the kitchen, where Rio was shifting through a stack of sealed envelopes. He placed the groceries on the square table in the middle of the kitchen and smacked his teeth, looking pointedly at Rio as he nudged his head toward the apartment door.

Rio didn’t have to look to know you two were stuck in each other’s arms by the door. She smiled, shifting through the letters carefully with a shake of her head. “He is happy, Aaron.”

“Happy enough to cut me off my sentence,” he scoffed before adding, “twice.”

“I’m sure they will apologize if you say something,” she mused. “Especially [Name]. They’re a good kid.”

Aaron’s eye twitched in dismay. Rio was right—you were a good kid. He couldn’t hate you enough to delude himself into believing otherwise, and of course, he didn’t actually hate you. Besides the apparent naivety he suspected came from living in a safe Brooklyn, nothing about you was blatantly dislikable. You were helpful, albeit not the brightest learner. You listened well, which could be a product of being in another’s hospitality. And, most importantly, you were Miles’s safe place. For the first time in years, Aaron could see his nephew find time to be the teenager he was supposed to be. You practically breathed life into him, which worried Aaron the most.

You were a second chance that Miles was unwilling to let go of, but whether you return to your Earth was not his decision. What would happen to him when you leave? You would destroy him. 

“I got the groceries, Mrs. Morales!”

Rio dropped the envelope in her hand and smiled upon your arrival. "Mi amorcito!" 

You tilted your head with a thoughtful grin after you put the grocery bag next to all the things Uncle Aaron had taken out of the one he was holding. When Rio flashed you a questioning look, you shrugged. "Miles called me that before. I didn't know what it meant."

A choked-out cough sounded from behind all three of you, and standing by the kitchen sink was Miles, gripping the edge of the sink and coughing out the water that ran down the wrong pipe. Rio covered her teasing smile with a hand, but her shoulder moved to the gentle beats of her lighthearted chuckles. Aaron stared at his panicking nephew, a tinge of judgemental pity laced in his eyes. 

Slamming his fist to his chest, Miles swung around to glare between the three of you before his eyes landed on your curious face. “What are you talkin’ about?”

"When did he say that to you?" Rio asked. 

You rolled your eyes skyward. If you remember correctly, it was during the first few glitch attacks when you would break down from the sheer pressure of it. He had encouraged you to sleep with him on those nights, and you gladly accepted the offer. It was during one of those tearful nights, you believed. He had whispered it when he thought you were asleep, with teary hiccups still occupying your body's consciousness, and you remembered he had been stroking your hair to lull you to sleep. Everything about him was tender during those nights—his touch, voice, and presence. Unbeknownst to you, its cause was that he physically could not muster any energy when you suffered. 

"He must have thought I was sleeping," you said, then you looked sheepishly at Miles, who returned it with a sneer. “I wasn’t asleep yet.”

“Clearly,” he muttered. 

"I didn't take you for someone who would sneak into people's rooms when they're sleeping?" Aaron chimed in. 

“I didn’t!” Miles groaned in embarrassment. “They cry like hell whenever they glitch. What was I supposed to do?”

“I did cry like hell when I glitched,” you said in agreement as you turned around from the kitchen cabinet where you were stocking the cleaning supplies. “I was the one who looked for him, actually. I couldn’t fall asleep alone. The glitching was terrible.”

Aaron’s eyes darted between you both. Miles reached out for you, his arm moved boldly, but the tip of his finger that touched your shoulder to get your attention was timid and boyish. He exhaled when you smiled at him, and the faintest smirk only you could discern to be a curve of contentment grew on his face as you walked near him. You scrunched your nose into a tight-lipped smile when he muttered something only you could hear, likely giving an unnecessary explanation for his comment on you crying like hell. 

The rate you two could engage in your own world was almost admirable if Aaron wasn’t so cautious of Miles’s growing feelings for you. But watching as you two helped each other stock the kitchen cabinets, shoulders brushing and shoving playfully, he knew he couldn't do anything. 

"We forgot to get detergent."

Rio gasped. She glanced at the washing machine filled with dirty clothes waiting to be cleaned, one of which included her work uniform, and she sighed. She would have to wear the one she did on her last shift. “I guess I’ll make a run to the store after my shift ends,” she mumbled with a thoughtful hum. “Or I can do it later on the way to the bank. I needed to deposit something.”

“The bank closes at six,” Aaron said questioningly.

“They have a drop-off box that opens through the night. It’s super convenient,” she clarified with a finger snap. “I’ll just stop by briefly before my shift starts. I might forget tomorrow.”

“Your shift starts at twelve, right?”

“Yeah,” Rio nodded, “overnight.”

“You gonna eat dinner with us?”

“I will,” she nudged her head toward where you and Miles were bickering about the washed dishes, “if those two would step away from the stove so I can cook something!”

The two of you froze up at Rio’s demanding tone. Quickly organizing the knickknacks on the dish rack next to the stove, not forgetting to scoff at each other about storing the utensils, Miles ushered you out of the kitchen with his hands clamped over your shoulders. Uncle Aaron watched your backs disappear into Miles’s room, and he saw your ridiculous faces trying to hold back from laughing at what he could only assume was an inside joke, as nothing was amusing about this situation. He gulped—he couldn’t do anything about Miles’s feelings for you.

The only thing more dangerous than a teenage boy in love is the person he is in love with. Taking you out of the picture would do nothing but bring Miles out of the canvas with you, leaving two vacant spots once close together. If you left, you would destroy him, but more importantly, he wouldn't hesitate to follow you everywhere. If you jumped the universe, he would jump the universe. If you got stranded in purgatory, he would strand himself in limbo. If you went to Hell, he would go to Hell because, at some point, it stopped being a biblical state of eternal torture. At some point, Hell is not a place; Hell is just where you are. And Miles would follow you there, always. 

You jolted up with the television screen flashing at your face. Even in your sleep, your body subconsciously remembered there was something you need to do. Before Rio left for her shift, which was just a little after Miles and Uncle Aaron left for the occasional hangout, she gave you a sealed envelope to deposit into the bank mailbox because you insisted that you were going to head outside for a short walk of fresh air anyway, so you might as well help you with this tiny task. Except you fell asleep on the couch after getting ready and woke up at one o’clock in the morning.

Scanning the quiet apartment, it was easy to tell nobody had returned home yet. Rio wouldn’t be home until early in the morning; Miles tended to get home around two to three o’clock when he was off with Uncle Aaron doing who knows what. Leaning your head against the couch cushion, you drew a mental map of the path to the bank before closing your eyes. If you jogged, a round trip would take you roughly fifteen to twenty minutes. Not a problem! 

Sliding off the couch, you reached into your crossbody bag that was big enough for a phone to feel for the envelope Rio gave you. It was still in there. You zipped the bag and patted it twice for safety, then fixed your jacket sleeves in preparation for the chilling night breeze. Turning off the television and the living room lights as the last step, you grabbed the house key lying in a bowl with some loose change and left the apartment. 

Keeping up a light jog was easy under this cold weather and the dark streets. You liked walking at night, but you were never outside this late. There were no cars or people, much unlike the bustling morning you preferred much more. Uncle Aaron’s cautionary tale repeated in your head and increased your speed through the empty pedestrian road. The more you stayed outdoors, the more you thought it a bad idea to be outside at this dead time. 

“What? What is–what?” you muttered as you moved your body about. 

Glaring at you was the metal deposit box enclosed in the bank walls. It took you a hot minute to find it because it was behind a wall off the side of the building where the ATMs were. You thought it was a terrible design choice only because you couldn’t find it immediately; it would not have been if you managed to. The second hurdle came when you realized the handle to the mailbox wouldn’t budge. 

“How do you open this?” you laughed as you gave the handle another pull. When the metal texture began hurting your skin, you let go to loosen your jacket sleeve until it reached your palm so you could use the thick fabric as a shield. This time, you put a leg up on the wall to use it as leverage. You pulled again. Nothing happened. Huffing in dissatisfaction, you pointed at the mailbox as if it could understand you. “You’re really–mhm!”

The swift kick to the wall could be heard. Miles perked up to where the soft rummaging noise came from and squinted his eyes behind the prowler mask. He scanned the area carefully, looking for any signs of people to find none. He remained tense even as he dropped the matter—gritted teeth and clenched jaw over a bank heist only a few days in planning. He has done this many times before. Maybe not robbing a bank specifically, but criminal activities were no longer a stranger to him as they were. He would even say he enjoyed it; he liked being strong, and it was a source of easy money. However, the main reason why he turned to a life of crime was to distract himself from the death of his father and you. Now that you were here to repaint a corner of his world with colors again, being a prowler was losing its appeal. 

"Miles."

He snapped out of his trance at his uncle's impatient voice screeching through the earpiece, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. What's up?"

"What's up?" His uncle sounded incredulous. "Are the bombs set up?"

"Oh–uh, yeah." He peeked out from behind the bush to check out the blinking red light he set up at the foot of the gate. "They're all set up."

"And you? You got your head in the clouds just then.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Aaron,” Miles clarified with the kind of grit that would have gotten him in trouble usually. He took a deep breath. “Let’s detonate them so we can move on from here.”

The other end shuffled and scratched; its noise muffled the careless footsteps behind the ATM wall.

“Detonation in three….”

You pouted when you shoved the envelope in your bag, still mumbling about not finding an opening to the night deposit box. It was a good enough reason to give Rio tomorrow when she returned home from the hospital; that metal handle would not budge!

“Two…”

Miles perked up at the familiar figure trailing slowly by the bank entrance where he set a bomb device. His ears did not deceive him when he thought he heard footsteps somewhere, and neither was Uncle Aaron wrong about his head being in the clouds! Nobody should be out to the bank at this forsaken time, but his surprising lack of attention made him miss the slow walker—he tilted his head—a slow walker wearing a jacket he remembered he also owned.

You blew raspberries as you patted your bag twice for safety measures. When you looked up, you met eyes with a figure in a purple suit. His stance seemed agitated, and Miles was. He cursed under his breath when he recognized your face, his legs already bringing him out from hiding. What were you doing here? You should be at home!

“One.”

“Uncle Aaron, no!”

The ground shook under your feet, but what made you lose your balance was the impact of the sudden explosions that came in three—bang, bang, bang! The bank building was collapsing, or perhaps it was only in the process of being destroyed? You didn’t get a chance to see clearly. You could hear the alarm bells, though. It wasn’t the wailing kind; it was the kind that rang non-stop. 

Meeting with the ground was not an extraordinary experience for you, but it felt worse than being pushed in this case. Face planting on marble tiles was mentally more endurable than outdoor brick floors. At least you thought that way for now. A groan left your lips as your brain was overloaded with sensations; you absorbed too much, from the alarm noises to the growing pains at the bottom of your body. You groggily looked to where it came from and saw glass shards sticking to your legs through the fabric of the pants. Great. Turning away from them, you noticed your bracelet scratching up tiny sparks, and you couldn’t bring yourself to wonder if you’d broken it.

“Oh no–shit! No, no, no, ¿por qué estás aquí?” Miles unmasked himself, showing his anxiously darting eyes. His hands hovered over your body indecisively, but he felt his fingers inching toward your face where blood trickled down the side of your skin. Miles needed to look through your hair for the source. Curling his arm under your neck, he lifted you to his chest. “Oh no, oh no. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento–no quise hacerlo.“

You stirred upon his voice phasing in and out of your muffled hearing. Even with the migraine, you could recognize his voice. He was spilling words you didn’t understand, but some of the vocabulary you knew he had said to you before. Mi cariño, mi corazon…mi vida—he whispered that to you today when he came home from school. He probably didn’t think you heard, but you did. You exhaled, then an exhausted whimper pushed itself out of your mouth when the breathing hurt your throat.

He quickly regained his composure upon seeing a sign of life, immediately hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to his chest, and leaping away from the falling debris. The sight of you bleeding and injured was all too familiar to him. But instead of letting the flashbacks stop him in his tracks, he planned to do something he couldn’t last time—saving you or at least trying to save you.

Returning to where he was hiding, away from the burning building, Miles scanned his surroundings. “Uncle Aaron! Uncle Aaron, help!”

“Miles!” Aaron emerged from the shadows. “We have to go now, we don’t have time–“ he stopped at the sight of you in Miles’s arms–“what happened?”

“They were here–I don’t know why! They’re not supposed to be out here at this time!” 

You remembered how he carried you, which seemed to always be bridal style. It wasn’t as if he did it all the time, though. His hand on your back felt much weirder, too, like he was digging claws into your skin to keep you in his arms. If your senses had gathered better, you would have teased him with the hope that he hadn't gotten tired of you joking about his feelings for you. Licking your dry lips, you rolled your head to meet his chest. It heaved with each word he hollered beyond the fire, the alarm bells, and the disagreement coming from his uncle. They were arguing about where to go. Miles clutched your body closer to him every now and then. He was hell-bent on bringing you to seek medical treatment, and his uncle was not.

“Gwen is waiting!”

“She would want me to help [Name]!”

“We triggered the alarms, so law enforcement will gather here!” Aaron argued. “The police can bring them to the hospital just fine! We need to stick to our plan!”

“[Name] is dead on record. We can’t just bring them to the hospital!” Miles said. “I’m taking them directly to mom.”

A foolish boy. “You’re gonna throw away everything we built.” It was more than just doing crimes, it seemed. There was a bond, a mutual trust built in the process that was on the verge of collapsing. “For that.”

Miles widened his eyes in disbelief. He had his doubts about the way his uncle felt about your existence. Still, he held out hope that the aloofness resulted from the great unknown of the multiverse and Aaron’s personality rather than that he thought your presence was a nuisance. Supposed he was wrong. The casual dehumanization was all he needed to decide how to proceed. Miles hopped a few steps back, his brows furrowing and his grip on your firm. 

“Tell Gwen I’m sorry.”

Aaron clicked his tongue. “Tell her yourself.”

[kinardsevan]

Okay, prompt. Tommy and Buck are having slow shifts and one of them decides to call the other.

consider this as existing in the same timeline as to can’t outdrive pain (someday it’s gonna take the wheel)

we survive

Tommy sighs, pushing a piece of paper across the table.

“Riley, you have to at least try to make your art not be derogatory,” he states in a gentle but firm tone. “Miss Sidney isn’t going to let this fly.”

Riley rolls his eyes, tossing a conte crayon onto the table. Charcoal scatters as it cracks in half, and the teenager crosses his arms. Tommy frowns, reaching out for the crayon and setting it back inside the box he’d brought with him.

He’s no stranger to Riley’s moods six months into this endeavor. What had begun as a way to fill some time after breaking his elbow and having to miss weeks of work has become part of his weekly ritual now, occasionally twice a week when he can swing the extra time. Evan has joined him a number of times when the time off has lined up, but today he’s alone.

Riley Collins was almost sixteen and had a rough background, one Tommy could relate to only too well. His mom had died when he was three, and he was left with an alcoholic father who cared so little that at seven, he’d been found digging in a neighbors trash can for food. That had begun the teen’s childhood in foster care, but it hadn’t been the end of it. He’d cycled through multiple foster homes with while struggling with attachment issues. There was a year-long period when Riley was eleven where his father had gotten sober, regained custody, and things seemed like they might get better. Except, Riley had been the ringer by that point. He’d lived in homes with emotional and verbal abuse. He’d seen parents hit each other, and occasionally hit the children. He’d seen sexual abuse through the tiny window of where his blankets didn’t completely cover his eyes when cries of his foster siblings woke him in the middle of the night. He’d faced some of those situations himself, and by the time he cycled back into his fathers home, he wasn’t the same little kid who had learned to become self-sufficient when his father was lost to the bottle.

Either way, Riley’s father made it six months before his sobriety with Riley back home went to hell. There was a DWI, and then an occurrence where Riley showed up to school with a black eye and bloodied nose. Then he was locked out of the house. CPS was still so involved at that point that he was quickly placed back in foster care, but the writing was on the wall at that point. Even though he’d been placed with a family with good values, he was a mess. There were stolen things, broken possessions, a flirtation with breaking the law. Ultimately though, it was a full-on brawl he got into with an uncle which led to his placement in the group home. And the thing was, he was a great student. He could stay invested in his school work and the routine it required without a problem. But when it came to people…he was a mess.

Tommy couldn’t help but reflect that back to his own childhood.

“This is so fucking lame anyway,” Riley bemoans.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You seemed to think it was cool three days ago.”

“What the fuck do you know, old man,” Riley replies, scowling at him. He shoves away from the table, and Sidney is up out of her chair quickly, already calling after him, but Tommy raises a hand to her.

“Let me go,” he tells her softly. Their group is usually a bit bigger, but with school being back in session, half of them have signed up for extracurriculars, so there’s only three today, and Sidney has the other two pretty well covered with whatever they’re drawing.

She looks at him with a hint of apprehension, but then nods, settling back into her chair.

Tommy picks up his sketchbook and moves around the table, walks out the back door toward a picnic table where Riley is pushing a stick into the aged wood, trying to peel a piece of loose long grain with it. He dares a glance up at Tommy and then sighs, looking back down at the table.

“Hey kid. You wanna tell me what that was all about,” he asks, crossing the space between them but still staying a few feet away.

Riley huffs but doesn’t answer as he keeps pushing at the picnic table with the stick. Tommy frowns, taking a few more steps forward and sitting down on the opposite side of the table. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a tin of Altoid Sours. He pops one in his mouth and then offers one to Riley. When the kid doesn’t immediately take one, Tommy rests the tin on the table between them.

“You know, I used to make a lot of really violent art,” Tommy states. “Still have some of it. Drawings of people getting stabbed, gunshot wounds.”

“Bet Miss Sidney would love to hear that right now,” Riley states sarcastically.

Tommy shrugs. “Probably not. But it was how I dealt. Especially with the people who hurt me when I was your age.” He flips his sketchbook back to the front before setting in front of Riley on the table. The first few pages have older, yellowed paper taped in. It’s been crumpled and some of it is shredded, but Riley looks up at it, skims over the images. He sets the stick down and flips a page over as something that looks suspiciously like comic paneling tells the story of a child and his abusive father. He watches the way Riley runs his fingers over the paper, touches the images.

“What do you know about abuse anyway, old man,” Riley murmurs softly, anger still present in his voice.

“More than you’d think, kid,” Tommy replies. When the teen looks up at him, Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I wasn’t always this built or lean. And me at thirteen, on the huskier side and gay? That didn’t go over all that well in my home.”

Riley doesn’t let on his emotional response to Tommy’s explanation, but he keeps flipping through the pages in the sketchbook. A drawing of a war zone. Drawings of mass military graves. Dog tags. Bloodied fists with colored pastels.

“Least you got out,” Riley comments after a few minutes of silence. “Had someone to help.”

Tommy gives a haughty laugh. “I went to the military to get out. I didn’t have anyone waiting at home if I made it back from Iraq. Everything I’ve done, I’ve had to do on my own.”

There’s still a scowl on Riley’s face, but the ire seems to sink out of it as he listens to Tommy.

“I was not cool when I came back, either,” he adds. “I was really shitty to people I now consider friends. Spent a lot of years alone because I couldn’t figure out how to just connect with people.”

“Least you found people who wanted you around,” Riley grumbles, his voice still soft, like he doesn’t actually want Tommy to hear him. “I got two years.”

Tommy sighs. He’s not sure whether saying something is a good idea. There are still too many what ifs and probabilities for him to be sure.

“You know, Evan and I have been talking to Miss Sidney,” he states in a quiet tone. Riley finally reaches out and takes one of the altoids, pops it into his mouth. His eyes slowly raise, though he doesn’t look directly at Tommy. “But we can’t do anything if you keep showing this kind of attitude in program. They won’t consider it a good placement.”

Riley’s brown eyes meet his then, his sandy blonde hair half hanging in them. He stares at Tommy with a bewildered expression.

“Hailey is-..”

Tommy shakes his head, cutting Riley off. Of course the kid would think they’d want a young child. “Hailey doesn’t fit in our home. She’s six. She needs a mom.”

“Dakota-“

“Doesn’t like fire trucks,” Tommy comments, in reference to another one of the younger kids.

Riley looks up at him, brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you two want a baby?”

Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Do you know how long the adoption process is for an infant? Never mind surrogacy.” He can’t help the warmth in his chest at the fact that for all of Riley’s questions, the idea of living in a house with two men in a committed (carnal) relationship isn’t one of them.

Riley is quiet again for a few moments as he closes Tommy’s sketchbook and places it back on the table.

“I age out in 798 days,” he mutters.

Tommy takes a breath and shrugs again. “Well. I guess that leaves us roughly twenty-two thousand more to have you around with us, five of take a few thousand,” he states. “You know, if you want to.”

Riley looks up at him through his eyelashes with an expression that’s trying suspiciously not to reflect any kind of hope. Tommy recognizes it from the one he had when he’d been told he was going back to live with his father at thirteen. He narrows his gaze slightly as he reaches out for his sketchbook.

“You know, Evan makes a mean shepherd’s pie,” he comments, sliding the book back over. “I could probably get him to whip one up tonight. He’s supposed to be off shift soon.”

“T-tonight,” Riley stammers.

“Only if you want to,” Tommy replies. “And if you apologize in front of Miss Sidney. I kinda promised her you’d be a good fit and you’re making me look bad right now.”

The slightest bit of an upturn happens at the corners of Riley’s mouth. Tommy nods, reaching out for the altoids tin. He closes it and pops it back in his pocket.

. . .

Hours later, in the silence of their home, Evan rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder as they stand in the doorway of what they expect to become Riley’s bedroom. The teen is sprawled across the Queen-sized bed and a pillow that Tommy finds to be suspiciously similar to one from his and Evan’s bed is wrapped tightly in the teen’s arms.

“Dare I say, he’s a little attached to us,” Evan whispers to Tommy.

Tommy chuckles, pointing up to the T-shirts tacked up to a cork board on the wall. “That was his idea.”

Both shirts are worn and faded, one from the 118 and the other from Harbor. The vinyl is half-peeled from the shirts, and only the outline of Tommy’s last name remains on the shirt that belonged to him from how much use it’s seen.

“Who would’ve thought he’d like us that much,” Evan jokes. He tilts his head, resting his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I think he feels seen. Understood,” Tommy murmurs back. He takes a breath, looking down at Evan. “He asked if he could take both last names.”

Evan smiles wearily at Tommy. “He can have whatever he wants.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, although he stiffens when Riley moves on the bed, only to settle a few seconds later with a contented sigh.

“And this is why you’re not in charge of the budget right now,” he comments. “He’ll have you talked into a car and three gaming systems in under twenty-four hours.”

Evan scowls at Tommy, turns his head and bites his shoulder. Tommy grunts softly, turning toward him. He pushes Evan gently out of the room, across the hall into their bedroom, easing the door shut quietly.

“Let’s not traumatize the kid on his first night home,” he states, framing Evan’s face with his hands before he dives in for a heated kiss. Evan moans softly into his mouth, fisting Tommy’s shirt.

“Well then, I guess you’re just gonna have to drown me out with the shower,” Evan replies, tugging Tommy back towards the en-suite.

And he does.

[cheynovak]

Another, other Cinderella story  

Soldier Boy x Reader (Y/N) 

Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Alcohol, Soft dominance, ...  

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words: 5471 

*Does not follow The Boys storyline! *  

sequel: Happy ever after ?

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Y/N is the rebellious daughter of a famous actor in the 1960. Her dad wants to keep her out of the public eye, since he cheated on his wife with her mother. Never intended to have a future with her. But then there was Y/N. Her mother, a poor woman, threated to bring out the truth about her if he didn’t take care of his child’s education. So, she jumped from one institution for troubled young woman to the next boarding school. But all she wants to do is leave, have fun and start a life of her own.  

Little did she know her life will take a turn when her father invited the infamous Soldier Boy to his party.  

For more stories check my Masterlist.

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Y/N never cared for movie stars or singers unlike all the other girls at the boarding school. Maybe her dad is the reason for it. She never had a real relationship with him. She was a bastard to him and a troublemaker.  

And she did everything to make sure he would remember that. Getting thrown out of school, behaving like a wild child. All these things made her re-do her senior year, twice. Once every few months she is allowed to leave the school and visit her family, unlike the other kids at school, she wasn’t allowed to go home on weekends, her father’s choice.  

Since her mom died over a year ago, she was forced to spend that time with her father, that was when she started to ‘misbehave’. Her father wanted her to walk around, dress and act like a lady should. While all she wanted was to travel the world.   

Today he celebrated his 50th birthday and of course he invited all of Hollywood. It was also Y/N’s last few weeks at the school, and she is determined to make the best out of her life. She put on her persona of the perfect daughter, just to get out of that boarding school.  

Y/N was allowed to attend the party that weekend, if she agreed to work as a servant and of course behave. Walking around with the food, asking if the already extremely drunk uncle Harry, your stepmother’s brother, needed another drink. But mostly just be eye candy like the other women here were.  

Y/N is the youngest girl walking around, although no one would suspect she was. Her posture and manners made her look older, mature. But she wasn’t legally, allowed to drink yet, but then again there were more things she wasn’t allowed to do, and yet she already tried.  

Her friends called her the rebel because she would sneak out to go to parties, had boyfriends who were just a little too old for her. And when they wanted to know “things” they didn’t teach at the boarding school they would knock on her door.  

But when it came to these events she knew how to behave. She would walk around with a certain flair. And instead of punching a man in the face when he touched her, she learned how to ‘dance’ around them.  

Y/N got used to the looks of the men by now, but there was one man in particular that caught her eye. It took her a while to recognise him without his uniform, but then it hit her. Soldier Boy... her mother did tell her stories about this superhero before going to bed.  

How he would watch over her and keep her safe, but the man sitting there, who hasn’t aged a day, didn’t seem much like the man you thrust your kids to. And of course, daddy dearest knew the most famous supe of all. 

While she waited at the bar on the refills for Uncle Harry, she watched how every woman at the party threw herself at his feet. Including your younger ‘sister’. While he smoked his cigar, ignored the underaged girl, he talked and laughed with the man and your father.  

Y/N must have been staring a little too long because he turned his head to her, without scanning the area first. Not knowing he had his eye on her this entire time. 

When his green eyes looked right at her, she felt her breath hitch. Goose bumps covered her from neck to toe. “Here you go luv.” Franky the bartender said. “T-thanks.” Her perfect painted red lips turned in a curl before she took the drinks out of his hands.  

Y/N walked back to Harry, although she was great at pretending, pretending that her feet didn’t hurt became more and more challenging. Walking for hours and hours on these black heels made her feet hurt like hell.  

She took one more glance at soldier boy, noticing how he was listening to her dad while his eyes scanned her body. He tilted his head, his eyes grew a darker shade of green. Clearly not caring about a word your dad was saying to him.  

Y/N knew that look.  

His eyes meet hers again, she would have sworn he smiled at her, not a teeth showing, heart drop smile, no, a god if I had you alone, the things I would do to you, grin. She took a deep breath right before her foot caught behind the carpet.  

She was able to remain her balance but the drinks on the tray weren’t. The red wine fell over aunt Trina’s silk dress. “Oh my... I’m so, so sorry.” Y/N kneeled next to her, trying to help her by wiping her dress with her sleeve. Uncle Harry got up. “You stupid child! Do you have any idea how expensive this was.” His fat hand grabbed her by the cheeks.  

Y/N could feel his fingers pinch into her skin, a little harder and he would have pierced her cheeks. He pulled her on to her feet. Y/N closed her eyes, she knew he got a little aggressive when he had a few to many but this was a Harry she has never seen before. 

He let go of her for a second, but by the time she opened her eyes she felt a hard slap against her cheekbone. The impact made her tremble over the glasses on the floor, she fell down, cutting her hand in the process. Seeing how the very heavy man came closer. 

Y/N’s uncle stood above her, she closed her eyes again, waiting for his next move when she heard a deep voice behind her. “Hey fat suit, leave the girl alone.” She looked over her shoulder, seeing soldier boy walking towards Harry.  

Her dad tried to hold him back saying it is all a misunderstanding, trying not to let him intervene. He placed his hand on the supe’s shoulder, only to receive a stone-cold look, a warning to let him go. Which, smart as he was, he did. “You think you’re tough, hitting a girl half, hell, a third of your size.” He looked the man up and down.  

Leaving Harry speechless, leaving the entire room speechless. Y/N looked up, she knew Soldier Boy was muscular, but sitting on the floor looking up at this man, who now stood beside her made it feel like she was looking at a god. 

Y/N’s dad walked Harry and his wife towards the exit before this escaladed. The girls helped Y/N getting up while Soldier boy was still keeping his eyes on Harry. When he turned around Y/N was already at the bar with the other girls and Franky, taking care of her hand.  

She looked over her shoulder to him, he could see the tears in her eyes, when she mouthed “thank you.”  to the supe. He only nodded in response, but she could see his eyes moving over her again. Different than before, more a look to see if she was alright.  

Soldier boy walked slowly towards her, close enough to hear the conversation she had with her dad. “Why don’t you go to bed. The night is over for you.” - “I can stay if you want to. Clean up my mess.” She said waving at the broken glass at the floor. ‘Get to your room, you embarrassed us all tonight.”  

“Just, I don’t know, tell them, you fired me or something.” - “I wish I could fire you as my daughter. Your sister is a well-behaved young woman, but you, you always make a scene, wherever you go. Now go, out of my sight.”  

Soldier boy had heard the conversation, daughter, she sure wasn’t mentioned before when he met the other one. “Thomas.” He stopped her dad. “Who was that girl?” He saw his face turning green, “Ah eh... overpaid servant.” Soldier boys nodded not believing a word he said. 

The night went on, Y/N could hear the music from downstairs playing. No way she would be able to sleep in this noise. So, she did what she always did when sleepless, draw. She took off her shoes, let down her hair, still slightly curled from the up do and removed that ridiculous red lipstick.  

Taking a seat by the open window, letting the breeze through her hair. Her hand still hurts, so she placed her sketchbook on her knees, looked outside for inspiration, but all she could think of was soldier boy’s eyes. The emotions he had shown through them.  

She got lost in her drawings, hearing a knock on her open door made her flinch. “Hi.” His deep voice echoed in her head. While he stepped inside. “What are you doing here?” She answered a little too rude. She saw soldier boy’s face change.  

“I thought I come check on the sweet girl who just got punched in the face, but it seems like she left the building.” He turned his back to her, walking out of the door. Which her body clearly didn’t want, her stomach turned at the idea of him walking away. “Wait!” she almost jumped to her feet.  

He stopped, “I’m sorry, I just had a really bad day.” she saw how his shoulders slightly dropped at ease. “And thank you, again.” He turned around, “Let me see.” looking around while pointing at her hand. Trying to look uninterested.  

She felt his warm hand unwrapping the band aid. “It’s not too deep, it will heal nicely.” Y/N had trouble breathing, it felt like something pushed on her lungs, breathing heavy. And yet she really liked it. Unconsciously she moved closer to him.  

Soldier boy’s hand moved a lock of hair behind her ear, to look at her eye, seeing it turning blue underneath the redness. Her eyes roamed over his features, this was the first time she noticed he had little freckles over his nose. How full his lips where, how... kissable? His hand lingered on her cheek almost touching her neck.  

“You’ll live.” those words made her daydream burst, and brought her back to reality. “Tell me, why does Thomas keep you a secret?” Y/N frowned at that question. “You are their daughter, right?” She nodded, “well, his but not hers.” - “Aha, there we have it.” His index finger touched her nose. 

Soldier boy’s eyes roamed the room again, lips curled into a smile “What do we have here.” He thought he had caught her writing her diary. Find something to make her blush. But no, the moment his hand left her face she was able to play it cool again.  

“My sketchbook.” - “You draw?” - “Uhu.” She said while sitting down on her bed. “It’s good... it’s me?” Y/N’s lips curled into a smile, “Well, you kept looking at me. So yeah, I drew your eyes.” Soldier boy pouted his lips, while he went through her book. His eyes got bigger then turned the book at her.  

“Spicy.” He grinned showing her one of her old sketches, a man sleeping barley covered by blankets. “What, you never saw a naked man before?” He clearly liked her boldness. “Who is he? A model at your art school?” - “Ex Boyfriend.” Now that, he did not expect.  

He looked at her, his eyes became darker again. She could feel his eyes on her skin. While all he could think about was how old she was. She isn’t starstruck by him like a 16 year old would be, clearly had some experience with men, but when the men at the party offered her a drink she declined.  

“What’s on your mind?” She asked while he kept staring. “How old are you?” - “How dare you ask such a thing to a lady!” She pretended to grab her pearls. Not realising that gesture made his eyes fall on her chest.  

“18, 19 ?” He looked back up. “20” she answered, Y/N could have sworn she heard the wheels in his head turning. “Why?” He placed her book back where he found it. “You want the truth?”  

Ben turned back to her, seeing her closing the bedroom door, placing her back to it. Her eyes filled with the same lust he had hours ago. “Please enlighten me.” she answered biting her lip.  

In a few long strikes he closed the space between them. Making her stand in between him and the door, looking up at those beautiful eyes again.  

His hand moved through her hair, the other hand gripped her hip tight. “I feel like we have been avoiding this tension all night long.” He kissed her soft on her right side of her neck. “But then again you are such a tease aren’t you.” another kiss on her left side of her neck.  

His husky voice, his touch made her almost moan, so hard trying to avoid looking desperate. Normally she would be the one to drive a man crazy, she knew what they liked but now she needs to find her cool. Her eyes closed for a second when his lips kissed her.  

She felt his tongue touch at the bottom of her neck, in between collarbone, making her head fall back, closing her eyes. Slowly licking, caressing, moving its way up to her chin. Her hands moved to the back of his head.  Feeling his locks in between her fingers, softly scratching. While his lips moved to that one spot behind her ear.  

"Soldier boy” She breathed out. “Ben.” he moved his head to look in her eyes. “It’s Ben.” He waited for an answer “Y/N” she said before pulling him close to her body. Her lips hungry kissing, sucking at his.  

While his hands moved over her body, trying to map out her curves, her weak spots. As the air began to fill with the sound of heavy breaths and soft moans Y/N felt his dick growing in his pants. His hand trying to move under her tight skirt.  

He felt resistance of the fabric, so instead of tugging and struggling he ripped her skirt apart, from the bottom up. Leaving her gasping in his mouth. His finger found their way to her clothed slit, feeling how wet he made her.  

“F-f-fuck honey, so hard to get yet so wet for me.” he dropped to his knees “If I had known, I would have fucked you hours ago.” He pulled down her panties, two fingers slide in easy, while his lips and tongue played her clit.  

"Oh Ben!” those words sounded like a prayer to him. “Tell me you’re not one of those shy girls. Afraid to scream my name.” His thumb moved over sensitive but. Giving him the answer he needed. “That’s my girl.”  

His mouth kept working on her clit while his fingers kept curling and pushing inside her, making Ben earning her moans.  His free hand moved over to her breast, her hand covered his, accouraging to knead it. Ben felt her hips buck, her legs started to tremble and right before he pushed her over the edge he stopped.  

Y/N gave him an annoyed look. He cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning while his thumb moved over her soft red stained lips. In this moment she was glad she had taken off the lipstick she had to wear to the party.  

She kissed his thumb, holding his wrist in her hands. Moving from one finger to the others, taking the two fingers he used on her. She put them one by one in her mouth, she could taste what was left of her on them, tongue moving over his fingers. Pulling them slowly out of her mouth in a sucking motion while looking at him.    

“Here I thought you were a nice girl. Searching for a nice, decent young man, like that bartender, downstairs.” He said while she dropped to her knees to undo his pants. He felt her fingers and nails move over his bulge before she hooked her fingers around his underwear. Releasing his fully grown erection. “But let’s face it.” He grabbed her cheek, making her look up at him. “You want a man that fucks you till you scream his name.”  

Those words made her even wetter than she thought was possible. She opened her mouth, taking as much as she could. “That’s it...” Ben moaned when her tongue moved over the vein underneath his shaft. With every bob of her head, she tried to take more of him. While Ben tried to focus on her mouth, but he heard footsteps, when they stopped outside her door, he held her head still for a second.  

All though he didn’t want her mouth to stop he did pull out right before they heard a knock on the door. “Y/N?”, it was her sister. “Y/N?” she tried to open the door she had locked. “Yeah, what is it?” - “Nothing special, dad just wanted to make sure you were still here.” - “Ok, goodnight.”  

Ben took the time to undress her while she dealt with her sister. Kissing every part of her that he discovered. Determine not to be interfered. He walked her back to her bed, nodding to lay down. “Legs wide open sweetheart.” The nickname gave her goosebumps.  She watched him taking off the rest of his clothes, while she waited for him.  

“Ben please... hurry.” - “I love how you’re already begging for me. Do it again.” He said while she saw his hand tug lazily on his dick. His eyes roaming over her body, taking in every inch. “Ben, please... please fuck me already.”  

He pulled her closer to him by her ankles. Placing himself in between her legs, Ben’s thrusts started of slow, he felt resistance from her body, clearly not used to his size. Y/N felt the sting, making her eyes water. “Relax sweetheart.” 

After a few minutes the stinging pain changed into pleasure. Making her moan Ben’s name over and over in some sort of prayer. “Harder” managed to say between breaths. “Tell me what you need sweetheart.” 

“H-harder Ben, ... Please fuck me harder.” He placed a hand on her neck, not fully kneading but making her open her eyes, looking right into his.  “Want me to fuck you till you can’t walk sweetheart? Is that it?”  

All she could do was nod, being mesmerised by him. He turned her around without too much effort. His hands moved over her ass to her hips, pulling her up. She repositioned herself onto her hands and knees.  

She felt Ben move the tip of his dick through her folds before pushing inside. No warning, no teasing. Ben’s large hands pulled on her hips, trying to get as deep as possible inside her. Hearing her hiss out loud “F-fuck”, he kneaded the flesh of her ass, before hitting it with the palm of his hand. Earning a yelp from her.  

He felt her body giving in to the pleasure, unable to focus on anything else than him and thank God she did, her orgasm triggered his own. The moans and growls that came out of them sounded primal. Ben was always cautious with his one nightstands, but this time he didn’t care if it was safe or not when he came inside her. 

He dropped on the bed next to her, while they both breathed fast trying to come back to this earth. Y/N started to hear the sounds of her surrounding again. Only now realising she had only heard his words and moans, anyone could have walked pasted them without her knowing it. Imagen her relieve hearing the party hasn’t ended yet. “You should go back.” She said looking over at him.  

He clearly didn’t expect her to say that, given the confused look on his face. “You are a famous supe, they will be missing you by now.” She explained herself. Ben lifted himself on his elbow. “You know, no woman ever asked me to leave.” She smiled “I’m not every woman.”  

“Let me guess they beg you to stay the night and you sneak out by morning?” Not confessing she wanted him to stay. Stubborn as she is. “Something like that.” His green eyes had softened, roaming over her face again. What is he looking for she thought. 

“Ok, I'll leave...” His hand moved over her stomach, between her breasts to her neck, lingering there. “If, you tell me where I can find you.” Y/N thought about his words for a second, did he just really asked her to see her again?  

“4 more weeks in the boarding school a town over, then I’ll be traveling the world.” His thumb moved over her bottom lip. His eyes looking how he caresses them. “So, I have 4 weeks.”  - “To what?”  

He smirked, “You’ll see.” He said while he lifted himself out of bed, putting on his clothes. With his hand on the door, he looked back at her, still laying down in the bed. Her body partly covered with the white blanket, one leg out, showing and her hair a wild mess.  

Ben’s lip twitched at the sight of her, instead of looking over the moon she looks him dead in the eyes. He knew from the start she wasn’t what he was used to, but damn, she drives him insane. She had triggered his interest early this night, but little did he know he would be obsessed with her at the end of it.  

 --  

The next week Y/N stood in her uniform at the gates of the school when the principal Mrs. Pierce called out to her. “Miss Y/L/N, please follow me to my office.” Her friends looked at her while she shrugged her shoulders. Usually she had a pretty good idea of what she walks into.  

When they walked into the office, she noticed a man standing in the corner of it. “Ah miss Y/N take a seat.” She looked at the principal. “Am I in trouble?” - “Not this time.” - “You have... met my boss this weekend at one of your father’s soirees.” The man said clearly trying to choose his words wisely.  

“Y-Your boss? Excuse me sir, but I have talked to a lot of people that night. Can you be more specific?” The man looked over to Mrs. Pierce and back to Y/N. “Soldier boy.” He added. Y/N’s face couldn’t hold back her surprise. Feeling Mrs. Pierce looking at her.  

“I, I-I have met him yes.” - “He would like to see you again.” Y/N noticed the dirty look the man gave her, looking her up and down, noticing the bruise she tried to cover. He clearly knew how they ‘met’, probably thinking her being a teenage slut, trying to find a way of getting famous.  

Y/N got up, “Tell mister Soldier boy if he wants to see me, he can find me here. I’m not the type of woman who runs to a man on his command. Have a nice day sir.” She turned to Mrs. Pierce who was clearly content with the “progress” she thought Y/N made. “Ma'am if you don’t mind, I would like to continue class.”  - “Very well.” she nodded.  

On her way to class Y/N kept thinking about the conversation but mostly about the night with Ben. Wondering why he wanted to see her again, he probably can have any woman he wants. “Y/N!” Her principal walked up to her. “Your... encounter with Mr. Soldier boy didn’t incur the injury, did it?”  

Y/N looked at her hand, “Oh no, he didn’t, this was an accident ma’am.” - “Ok, well, if there is anything that need to be said, even in a confidential matter, you know where my office is.” Wow, Mrs Pierce was really worried about her.  

The next weeks went by smoothly, her friends tried to find out why she was called to the office, but she gave a vague answer. By the last week of school Soldier Boy was already a nice memory of a party she wanted to forget. She needed to keep focussing on the future and the last week of boarding school. 

Y/N was the only one whose parents didn’t attend the graduation. But that wouldn't stop her from being happy today. She could finally spread her wings and leave this place behind her. When she heard her name, she walked up front to collect her degree. Noticing one man standing, she didn’t have to take a long look to recognise that grin.  

Her heart started to beat fast, her neck covered in goosebumps, how is it possible that a man can give her this kind of feelings. She kept looking behind her when she took her seat. “What’s wrong?” One of her friends asked. “Nothing.” She said way to quick. Her friend looked behind them not seeing why Y/N was so nervous.  

After the ceremony there was a drink, organised for the senior students, parents and their family.  The twin sisters, Y/N got friends with over the years, invited her to meet their parent. “Where are your mom and dad, dear?” Their mother asked. “I afraid they couldn’t make it.” She smiled her well-practised smile. 

“There she is!”  

Y/N recognised the deep warm voice immediately. Before she could turn around, she felt his hand on her lower back. “Congrats sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for the people around you to hear. Then planted a small peck on her cheek. 

Play it cool Y/N, play it cool, Be cool... She looked over her shoulder, “I thought I spotted you in the crowd.” - “Wouldn’t want to miss your big day, honey.” his hand moved over her cheek “I see that ugly bruise healed well.” Y/N felt her cheeks glow when she saw the twins and her parents look flabbergasted.  

“Right, meet my, eh f-friend...” Y/N’s voice cracked “Soldier boy, nice to meet you sir, ma’am.” He filled in, shaking their hand. “And these are your friends I presume.” He asked Y/N while flashing them a heart stopping smile.  

After a little friendly conversation, with questions that Ben probably heard a thousand times before, he turned to Y/N. “You want another drink, sweetheart?” pinching her hip. “No, but a word, in private, would be great.” She flashed him fake smile.  

Ben followed her inside the school. “What are you doing here Ben?” - “I told you I’d find you didn’t I.” - “Took you long enough.” She crossed her arms. “To be honest. I didn’t like your response to my man.” She huffed. “I usually don’t go running around to the girls I sleep with.” He said. “Well, that’s tough, I had you in my bed didn’t I, not your man.”  

“So stone cold. I don’t like my woman like that.” - “Good thing I’m not yours then.” He grabbed the back of her head, his thumb on her cheekbone, walking her towards the wall, making her stand in between his body and the wall behind her. “Listen sweetheart, I’m having a lot of patience with you. Reject me and I won’t come back this time.”  

Ben saw her eyes change, he’d expect her to be angry maybe even a little scared of the way he handled her, but no, her eyes softened, he noticed how her body leaned towards him. “You think you’re having patience... Clearly, you’re not that into me than.”  

Y/N tried to walk away, Ben held her back, all though everything about his posture said anger, his eyes screamed helplessness. “Don’t.” - “Tell me why not Ben, give me one, good, reason.” His mouth opened just to close again. “We used each other for pleasure. Nothing more.”  

In reaction Ben grabbed her tight and pushed her back to the wall, his lips consumed hers. His hands moved over to her ribs, pulling his body against hers. He felt her resist but by the time his tongue asked permission he felt her body melting into his.  

Their breath deepened within seconds, Ben pulled back keeping only a small space between their faces. “Tell me Y/N, honestly, is this just pleasure?” - “Shut up.” She sighs while pulling his body close to hers, closing the space between their lips.  

Until they were disturbed by the sound of a clearing throat, “Miss Y/L/N, your father is here. He would like to see you.” - “I’ll be right there Mrs. Pierce.” She felt the heat on her cheeks rise. “So cute when you blush.” Ben teased letting his lips touch her neck one last time before he lets go of her.  

“I had no idea he would be here today.” She said while they walked through the crowd, seeing him talking to the twins’ parents. Ben walked beside her keeping his hand on her back. “Father, how nice of you to come.”  

“Of course.” he pulled her in an awkward hug. “Ben.” - “Thomas.” Both men greeted each other like real alfas.  “I had no idea you would come.” Y/N said to lift the tension. “Well, I’m glad I did.” He looked Ben up and down.  

After a really weird and awkward situation where both Ben and Thomas kept giving each other dirty looks and the other parents trying to have a normal conversation, Thomas spoke.  

“Right, Y/N I think it’s time to go home.” - “I’m sorry but I’m not going.” - “What do you mean?” Y/N took a deep breath “I’m not coming home anymore. It’s time for me to move on, see the world. But I might start with New York first.” She said looking at Ben. His brow lifted.  

Her dad nodded, clearly not liking her answer, but what was he supposed to do against Ben, who after all this time still hasn’t lifted his hand of her back.  

-- 

Ben and Y/N few over to New York, he didn’t want her to stay with him at Vought. They really didn’t like the fact that their most eligible bachelor supe had fallen for a young woman. Keeping her in a penthouse would be more enjoyable for her.  

Y/N wouldn’t be Y/N if she didn’t rebel a little. Ben had told her he wasn’t going to make it to her tonight, so she found a way to make it up to his room. Turned out ‘his man’ she met at school weeks earlier was his security guy. Who let her in his room.  

A little ironic a superhero had a security guy, she thought when she found out. 

Ben walked in, angry about his day, undid his protection gear and shirt. He sat down on the edge of the bed, picked up the phone on the nightstand, trying to call Y/N. “I don’t think she is going to answer.” Y/N said crawling into bed behind him.  

Her hands moved to his shoulders, giving him a little massage while her lips whispered in his ear. “I thought you could use some company.” Ben looked over his shoulder, seeing Y/N wearing the lingerie he bought a few days ago.  

“Hmm, that colour really suits you sweetheart.” his hand grabbed behind him, kneading in her thigh. “You know when I asked for clothes, I expected a little more... coverage.” she laughed. “Why?” Ben’s voice deepened.  

“So you have to take them off again.” She whispered, biting his ear.  

He stood up and turned around, towering over her, seeing how she sat on her knees in bed, looking at him with her doe eyes. “I missed you baby.” His lips curled by the sound of her needy voice. 

He pushed her down and crawls on top of her. She lifted her leg around his hip, his large hand moved over her, from knee to hip to her breast. Mesmerised by her, he locked eyes again.  

“Woman... you’re going to be the end of me.” 

---------------------------

Thank you for reading, if you liked this story, please like, share or comment. <3

[doveywovy]

from an au where technically tobirama marries the entire main house of the uchiha for convoluted cultural reasons, but ultimately almost all of his new husbands are straight and at least one just wants to murder him. Izuna is in love with him but hiding it, and getting his most forbidden desire (married to his rival) in this way (unable to express actual affection, sharing said spouse with four other people) is...stressful for him.

------

Five husbands. It’s quite the sum, and the sort of thing that Hashirama would read about in his books pilfered from passing noble ladies. Less titillating in reality, for a number of reasons.

Tobirama greets them each, his own face calm and blank. His new husbands have much less of a handle on things. They’re lined up by age. First is Madara’s Great-Uncle from his mother’s side, Hyousuke. The man is in his late seventies, which is a sign of great accomplishment or great cowardice for a shinobi- difficult to discern. The old Senju reports made him out as a poison specialist, and his extremely disdainful expression makes it obvious that this will be a matter of concern for Tobirama. The man had once had a wife, a decade and a half past, but she had died and he’d not taken on another. His three children had all died in the war, though none- as far as he could discern- by Tobirama’s own hand. 

  After Hyousuke was Hikaku, Madara’s cousin on his father’s side. a nervous looking man in his thirties with an attempt at a polite smile plastered on. He’s the only one with a living wife; no children, as of yet, though with the peace treaty in place they’re likely to be trying. She’s in attendance, a place of importance, but with an obvious distance to the presumed threat he presents. He’s curious how they’ll go about ensuring them apart longterm- not that he’ll seek her out, but simply by nature of housing. 

Madara himself at last, a respectable boiling rage hidden behind an excessively firm grip. Twenty-five is a bit late for a first marriage, especially a first marriage that can’t produce an heir. Tobirama certainly won’t complain; if Madara had a wife, or another husband, they might feel very tempted to take issue with him. This was difficult enough as it is. 

Izuna- of course, Izuna was the one that had worried him most, initially. But the man greets him with a blank sort of certainty. His sharingan flickers on when Tobirama drinks from his cup- perhaps on instinct, or perhaps an intimidation tactic. It flickers back off soon after, his expression never shifting. 

Kagami is nine. His primary emotion is an understandable fear. It takes him twice as long as the others to perform the ceremony, and he wobbles as he does it. Tobirama waits patiently, and takes the cup from him gently. He affords the boy an encouraging smile at the end of it; decorum can be put aside slightly given the unusual circumstances. 

The entire main family of the Uchiha, and him. 

----

The husbands have a meeting, excluding Kagami. He’d been sent off to training while the rest of them gathered in the center of the main family’s house. 

“I’ll kill him.” Hyousuke offers very affably. “Even if I get caught, I’m old enough you can claim senility and the clan won’t be troubled for it.” 

Izuna smiles. His eyes are pitch black and unreadable, and he says, “Thank you for the kind offer, but I think it’s best if we wait a while, Great-Uncle.” His hands are very still, and his voice doesn’t dip. 

Hyousuke nods along. 

--

“What are you doing?” Madara prods, not entirely sure which one he’s asking. Kagami, still dangling from Tobirama’s arm, looks perplexed. 

“I’m playing. What’s the good of a wife if he can’t play?” 

Tobirama, the bastard, nods. 

--

“If Hyousuke manages to kill him we’ll really be in trouble.” Izuna says. Madara isn’t sure about that- Tobirama dying would solve a lot of their issues, and if Hyousuke’s caught then he’ll lose standing in the clan and they won’t have to deal with his demands anymore. But Izuna seems certain- he’s dramatic, playing it up comedically, but he’s not one for joking about a position he doesn’t hold. 

---

Hyousuke is dead.

It was only a matter of time, at his age. Tobirama does a respectable job as a grieving widow, considering he’s still got four living husbands and Hyousuke wasn’t much of a spouse when alive. More importantly, he’s entirely secure from accusations of being responsible- he’d been with the other Uchiha wives at the time of Hyousuke’s death. 

An astoundingly good alibi, that could only be doubted if one was willing to call into question the abilities or honesty of the entirety of the Uchiha wives. Madara isn’t stupid enough to try. 

[dbacklot99]

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About The Crow Road, But Couldn't Get Through it To Find Out

Co-written by dbacklot and cheeseplants

WARNING: SPOILERS EVERYWHERE!!

Overall Premise: Books are clearly important to Good Omens and Neil & team have left us Clues. In S2E2, the xray trivia highlights a list of books they would like the audience to read. But even more specifically, there are names of certain books on the back of the chairs in the theater in the opening credits. Those books are: The Tale of Two Cities, Pride & Prejudice, and The Crow Road - twice!

What might this mean? One theory is that the chairs represent the seasons. The body swap in S1 is similar to how Carton, in Tale of Two Cities, takes his doppleganger's place in jail, sacrificing his life so Darnay could go free and be with his family. Pride & Prejudice is clearly referenced in S2, with Crowley's proposal as a sort of mirror to Darcy's first proposal. (There's probably a whole lot more to unpack there - and if you like Austen, here are some thoughts about Aziraphale's favorite book, Persuasion, and how it may relate to the characters.)

BACK to The Crow Road. The title is shown on two chairs in the opening sequence, suggesting that it is related to both S2 and S3. Furthermore, we see the book multiple times in the show and it's the book Muriel reads at the end. As an aside, Neil Gaiman and Iain Banks were very good friends. Iain Banks died over a decade ago, so it is also likely a bit of a tribute to his friend.

So let's dig in and see why perhaps Neil keeps holding this book up and shouting Clue!

Side note: The book is long and most of the action happens in the final third, which can make it a hard read for folks. There's also a lot of characters and it can be tricky to remember how they are all related. There is a family tree BUT it has spoilers.

The Name: The Crow Road is a phrase used by the grandmother to indicate someone has died, ie - he's gone the crow road.

The Plot: This is the story of Prentice growing up with his immediate and extended family in Scotland. His Uncle Rory disappears in his early childhood. Some family members choose to believe Rory is still alive. After a hook-up with his Uncle Rory's former girlfriend as a young adult, Prentice starts gathering journals and writings from his missing Uncle Rory, who was (for a few years) a successful writer and traveler. Prentice eventually learns that 1) another Uncle, Fergus, had murdered his own wife and covered it up as a car accident and 2) Rory had figured this out and confronted him. Fergus then murdered Rory, hid all the evidence, and hired an acquaintance (who also traveled) to send matchboxes from bars across the world to Prentice's father, Kenneth. Kenneth, believed - as Fergus intended - that these were messages from Rory, indicating he was still alive. 

Stylistically, Prentice's childhood memories and fragments from Rory's journals are interspersed throughout the book, much like the minisodes are in S2. It can take the reader a while to figure out who is telling the story or where this information is coming from. It is also unclear how reliable Rory is as narrator - perhaps this also plays into S2.

What it Might Mean: 

Fergus could represent the Metatron. He is very powerful, rich, and conservative; he lives in a castle (Heaven?) and wants authority. Fergus also murders two relatives and hides those murders; the murder of his wife may have been inspired by jealousy over her sleeping with another man, an event which may or may not have happened.

Fergus also sets up fake messages!! The matchbooks are red herrings to make it look like Rory is still alive. As the Metatron relays messages from God, I can't get over the possibilities here. We have seen God speaking directly as recently as Job, but are the other messages real?

I can't help but wonder if the matchbooks and their use as messages inspired Neil to use the matchbook in S2. The matchbook in S2, incidentally, connects to all three minisodes - the quote from Job, 41:19 (reversed 1941), and the matchbox is from the Resurrectionists pub. So the matchbook contains not only Gabriel’s memories but refers to Azi’s as well?

Much of the book is about this missing uncle. Is a character (or their memory) missing in S3? I have theories, but its too soon to tell.

There's also an interesting theme of Prentice collecting his Uncle Rory's writings and records, including sending some corrupted computer discs to an expert in America to try to restore them. Given the emphasis on records ("It contains information in a tuneful way") and journals in S2, not to mention this trivia nugget ​​ - my brain is itching that there's a connection there.

Faith & Beliefs: The book talks about Faith a lot. Prentice believes in God and his father Kenneth doesn’t. And Kenneth doesn’t just reject religion, he wants his children to reject religion too. Prentice on the other hand desperately wants something to believe in - especially after a friend's death in an accident. This leads to a huge fall out - they end up not talking over it.

"'I mean, what's the big argument? Can't you just agree to disagree?' 'No; we disagree about that,' I shook my head. 'Seriously; it doesnt' work that way; neither of us can leave it alone. There's almost nothing either of us can say that can't be taken the wrong way, with a bit of imagination. It's like being married.'" (Ch 7)

Kennth seemingly taunts God - he climbs a church during a lightning storm and is struck dead. His uncle Hamish (one of Kenneth’s brothers) also represents the extreme version of Faith and ends up running a sort of cult, at least until Kenneth’s death.

What it Might Mean: The thread they pull through a lot is about meaning, and whether you can have meaning in life without God. Prentice gains Faith because his friend died senselessly; he wonders how can you have a world be so cruel. There must be a reason for it (this is sort of Az coded), and he turns to God to create the meaning for him. 

BUT Kenneth’s argument is that you don’t need Faith for the world to have meaning (or at least that is my reading). It is wonderful because it is inherently meaningless (this is very existentialist, but I do think that’s the point). That Faith doesn’t do that, and just means you are looking outwards without looking at what is right in front of you. Which again, could be a Crowley way of looking at it, or at least where he is headed. Life is good as life, and doesn’t need God to make it so. 

Hamish represents someone putting so much meaning into Faith that they lose all sense of Joy, he becomes distant.  (One of my favorite scenes is Hamish doing a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces upside down - and cutting the pieces with scissors if they don’t fit right!)

The Romantic Relationships: Prentice is infatuated with a cousin (second cousin?), Verity. She is described as beautiful, in white/light colors, pure, lives with Uncle Fergus in the castle. There are legends around her birth -  she was conceived under a tree during a storm. She is unattainable and eventually ends up with Prentice's older brother.

Ash, on the other hand, is almost literally the girl next door and Prentice’s long-term best friend. Her family is poorer and maybe has some domestic violence issues. She's always there for Prentice - literally a shoulder to cry on, sharing a bottle of whiskey, helping him sober up after said whiskey. There's obvious romantic tension from Ash’s side but she never pushes him and instead guides him along. And the book ends with a romantic resolution that feels very much like the final fifteen - except with a happier ending.

“- and I still didn’t feel I could tell her how I felt about her because she was going away now, and how could I suddenly say I love you when I’d never said it to anybody in my life before? How could I say it now especially, the night before she was due to leave? It would look like I was trying to make her stay, or just get her into bed. It would probably wreck this one precious evening that we did have, and upset her, confuse her, even hurt her, and I didn’t want to do any of that.” (Ch 13)

They finally kiss and spend the night together, both confessing their love. Ash has to leave the next morning to pursue a career opportunity in New York; Prentice is sad that she goes but re-dedicating himself to his studies and working towards a relationship together. 

What it Might Mean: To me, Verity is very Heaven-coded and Ash is very Hell-coded. A big part of Prentice's arc (Prentice may represent Azi here) is getting over his blind infatuation with Verity and realizing the value and love he has with Ash. However, they also need to be apart and grow a bit before they can be together.

Other thoughts? Connections? Would love to hear your theories!!

@cheeseplants

[xas24]

number 30 (pt. 2) ~ pablo gavi

pt. 1

summary: pablo sees y/n again and doesn’t let the opportunity slip.

the first thing pablo did when he got home that night is search her up on instagram. clearly he knew that he wouldn’t really find anything with just her first name, but still he typed it into the search engine and saw as a range of accounts popped up.

he scrolled, looking at each profile picture to see if he could find any resemblance of her. he was browsing for atleast a minute when his eyes widened, landing on a profile picture that looked exactly like her.

he clicked on it and his excitement dissipated when he saw that her account was private. however, she did follow him and the “follow back” button was tempting him. she didn’t have many followers and no one he knew followed her. as his finger hovered over the button, he thought twice.

it would be completely unexpected if he just randomly requested to follow her. she probably didn’t even know that he remembered her name, or even noticed it, seeming a little stalker-ish that he went home to specifically find her instagram and request it.

so he swiped off of the app with a sigh, opting to waste some of his time on tiktok instead.

•••

“¡aquí están nuestros asientos!” (here are our seats!) y/n’s little sister stated as they finally stopped walking. y/n turned to look back up at the many, many rows of seats and her brows furrowed when she turned back to see her sister already getting comfy in her chair.

“¿cómo conseguiste estos asientos?” (how did you manage to get these seats?) y/n asked, sitting down. they were so close to the front of the pitch, practically front-row seats. they could see all the players’ benches, the managers, everything so much more clearly.

her sister shrugged, “papá me quiere más.” (dad loves me more)

y/n rolled her eyes. “muy divertido. estoy siendo serio.” (very funny. i’m being serious)

“yo también.” (me too)

y/n left it at that as she turned back to the front when the players started walking out. the stadium erupted with cheers and screams, her sisters probably being the most loudest one there - sometimes she loved how vocal she was about her love for the football club.

they’ve both had a passion for football when they were younger, both growing up loving barça, their home club. it was their uncle who first got them into football. he loved taking his two favourite neices to all the matches he visited, buying them little custom made jerseys and scarves to match their love for the club.

as they all grew older, it was more y/n and her sister who took their uncle to the matches. a few years ago, when he died due to cancer, the two were most devastated. none of their other family members loved football as much as him, no one else wanted to love it for them, no one else would’ve been able to replace him.

the two went to every single barça match after that, knowing how happy it would’ve made their uncle to see they still had that pride and happiness for their club.

although they usually sat on one of the top rows, y/n did not know what possessed her father to pay extra money, on behalf of her little sisters pleads, to sit right at the front today. she didn’t question it though, the view was amazing.

the bright colours of red and blue illuminated the whole stadium and y/n smoothed out her own blaugrana jersey as she cheered along with the rest of the camp. the jersey she wore held a special moment in her life, small but meaningful, as she remembered how her favourite player had interacted with her on the day of the champions parade.

it was only a week ago but she couldn’t stop thinking about it after that, her heart rate quickening every time she thought about it. the way he had stared up at her, asked her what number was on her back, cheered and smiled when he saw his own, held eye contact with her until he literally couldn’t anymore.

she was delusional. it was completely meaningless from his side, just a star player interacting with a fan. however, it meant so much more to her - even her sister couldn’t stop talking about it for a few hours after.

it was now halfway through the match when majority of the stadium erupted with protests as they all watched gavi fall to the floor. the referee came over and y/n was at the edge of her seat as she saw the players arguing on the pitch. it was a clear red card for the other team but it was gavi who recieved a yellow card.

he was injured, held up by one of the medical staff as they tried to get him off the pitch. pablos breaths were heavy, his jersey sticking to his skin with sweat and he felt pissed and upset. his foot was in complete pain and he’d just recieved a yellow card when it wasn’t even his fault.

he slightly lifted his head, eyes scanning the benches as he limped away from his teammates with the help of the staff member.

that’s when his eyes landed on her.

y/n. the girl from the balcony. the girl with the number 30 on her back. the girl who he could not stop thinking about. she was here and she was sat right in the front row with the same screaming girl from the balcony, who pablo assumed was her sister.

she was wearing the blaugrana jersey again and pablo hoped it was the same one from that day, the big number 30 boosting his pride.

he could immediately feel the heat coating his cheeks as his eyes tugged on hers for a second longer than he should’ve looked. she was talking with her sister before she turned back to the pitch and her eyes instantly landed on his, as if she knew he was staring at her.

pablo could see the concerned look on her face, probably due to his injury, and he tried to straighten up. show her its nothing. tell her he’s alright and it’s nothing major. along with her slightly furrowed brows, he could see the light tint of blush on her cheeks as she held eye contact.

his heart was now practically screaming in his ears, telling his fogged brain to just go over and talk to her. forget the fact that there’s a game on. forget his injury. forget how all the people around her will start swarming at him the moment he walks over there.

shaking those thoughts off, he looked back towards the tunnel and let the medical staff take him to check out his injury. he’d seen her again and he didn’t want to let that opportunity slip. he’d have to find another way to talk to her.

y/n knew that he remembered that moment the instant he held eye contact with her as he was taken off the pitch. he probably just recognised her, but that was enough for her sour mood from his injury to lighten slightly as the game resumed without him.

she just hoped today would be the day she’d finally get to talk to him.

•••

the game had ended and barcelona had lost. it was clear how defeated the fans felt as they started making their way out of camp nou. y/n and her sister started making their own way out once everyone in their section had already left. it was too crowded and they’d both rather make their way to y/n’s car whilst not having to worry about being squished between bodies.

whilst walking out, y/n tugged on her little sisters sleeve.

“aquí.” (here) she held out her car keys to her. “espera en el coche. necesito ir al baño..” (wait in the car. i need to use the bathroom.)

her sister nodded and walked off towards the exit. y/n turned and started making her way towards the bathrooms. she could still hear the chatter of fans all around her, some disappointing talks, some accepting talks. of course, she was a little upset about the loss herself but she’d grown to realise that they couldn’t win everytime.

it just wasn’t their day today. there is always a next time.

her mind also could not leave gavi’s injury. he’d returned around five minutes after leaving, looking perfectly fine. he didn’t have any sort of cast on, but he wasn’t put back on the pitch, so she’d only hoped he was okay.

a few moments of fixing her hair and her jersey, she walked back out. it was getting much later in the evening and she’d had to get home. however, after seeing the large crowds still walking throughout the camp, she decided to just go another way. there were multiple exits towards the parking lot, she could take any.

turning a corner, it was quick and unnoticed as she bumped into someone. “ay, mierda.” (oh shit) she said as she stumbled a little from the impact.

gavi felt himself stumble a little before taking a step forward and catching himself and the person he bumped into. when he looked towards them, he instantly felt his eyes slightly widen and a light blush fall onto his cheeks.

“lo siento.” (i’m sorry) he said towards her.

there was no way he was actually standing infront of y/n right now. he couldn’t believe it, it was as if he’d been given another chance.

“lo siento. no miraba por donde iba.” (i’m sorry. i wasn’t watching where i was going) y/n felt her heart rate starting to pick up as she realised pablo gavi actually had his hand on her arm.

“esta bien.” (it’s okay) he shrugged it off, awkwardly taking his hand off her arm as he gave her a warm smile, trying to contain his grin as she blushed and gave him a shy smile back.

“lo siento por tu lesión. se veía mal.” (im sorry about your injury. it looked bad) she stated, straightening up and attempting to mask her stutter.

“esta bien. lo revisaron y dijeron que no era nada importante.” (it’s alright. they checked it and said it was nothing major) pablo replied. his brown eyes took in her features. she was so much more beautiful up close. he could see every single feature so much more vividly, her long eyelashes coated with a little mascara, her perfect nose, her rosy lips painted in the perfect tint of light pink lipgloss.

he had to physically hold himself back from reaching forward and moving the hair away from her cheek.

“eres la chica del balcon? número treinta, no?” (you’re the girl from the balcony? number 30, no?) of course he knew who she was but he had to say something. something to let her know that he remembered her.

when she chuckled, he swore he just fell into heaven. “no pensé que te acordarías.” (i didn’t think you would remember)

“¿cómo podría olvidar a alguien tan hermosa?” (how could i forget someone so beautiful?) there. he had said it. he’d finally muttered those words to her, his exact thoughts, as his heartbeat vividly rang in his ears. he felt his palms starting to sweat.

y/n didn’t even know if she was still breathing. there was no way he had just said that to her, she wouldn’t believe it. that bump had to have knocked her out because she felt like she was dreaming.

the pablo gavi just called her beautiful, and he remembered her from the parade. she wanted to cry.

“oh gracias. en realidad soy un gran fan tuyo.” (oh thank you. i’m actually a really big fan of you.)

“realmente? tu hermana se veía más feliz el otro día.” (really? your sister looked more happy the other day.) pablo joked, earning a small laugh from y/n and he probably just died and came back to life. even her laugh was so angelic.

“mi hermana es un poco ruidosa. le gusta mucho barcelona.” (my sister does get a bit loud. she loves barcelona with her whole heart)

“puedo decir.” (i can tell) he chuckled.

his eyes never left hers, her smile, her lips. y/n smiled back and slightly nodded before glancing down. she couldn’t hold his intense eye contact. she knew that if she did, she’d immediately melt.

pablo hesitated a little, his thoughts running all over the place as he stared at her a little longer. should he just ask her for her number? would she find it weird? would she just give it to him out of excitement? would she even want to actually talk to him after this?

there was no knowing when he’d see her again, especially this close with no interruptions. so with a heavy heart, he spoke up. “si no te importa, ¿me das tu número?” (if you don’t mind, can i have your number?)

y/n instantly looked up as if she’d heard him wrong. was pablo gavi asking for her number? as in her phone number? he wanted to text her? contact her later? did he even know her name? she tried to act nonchalant about it but couldn’t hide the shy yet giddy smile that took over her shocked expression.

“sí.” he held out his phone and she carefully took it. pablo watched as she typed her number in. he took the opportunity to take in her features once more. her bottom lip slightly tugged under her teeth as her eyes focused onto his phone. he’d finally done it. he’d gotten her number. she hesitantly passed him his phone back and gave him another shy grin.

“gracias.”

she nodded in return. “tengo que ir. mi hermana está esperando.” (i need to go. my sister is waiting.)

pablo nodded in response and let her walk off, bidding her a short goodbye. his eyes never left her figure as she retreated back down the hallway she came from, his heart beating louder at every step she took away from him.

y/n couldn’t contain the excited smile on her face, the bright blush on her flustered face and the harsh banging of her heart against her ribcage.

she didn’t know how she’d be able to explain all this to her sister.

[george-weasleys-girl]

YULE TIDE REQUEST COMING IN HOT BC ITS COLD

Could you write something where the Weasleys are heading to spend Christmas at the order after Mr Weasleys attack (so could be a bit angsty to start), and on their arrival they find Y/N there with Sirus, her Dad and her Uncle Moony, telling her and the trio how they set up the old order back in the day and reader talks about setting up a new one, but the twins (Fred is her bf) didn't know who her family was as she kept it secret, all these years, even more so as Lupin teaches them all Defence Against The Dark Arts. Maybe a bit of akwardness at first when she explains why she couldn't tell them (rumours going around the magic world etc), but cute fluff after when they continue discussing the order, open presents etc. I need cute fluff 🥰

❄️Yuletide Celebration❄️

Fancy Meeting You Here

I goofed and posted this early.🤦‍♀️My only other option was to delete it. So, here it is. Merry Really, Early Christmas! 🎁

Fred Weasley x Fem!reader

~•~

"It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake’s fangs that keep wounds open," Arthur had explained. "They’re sure they’ll find an antidote. Though, they say they’ve had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime, I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour."

It was touch and go for a while, but you'd never know it talking to the Weasley patriarch. Despite excruciating pain and losing half his body weight in blood every day, Arthur had remained in high spirits throughout the whole ordeal.

Fred wished he could say the same for himself. Oh sure, he played it off well enough, making jokes and being silly, but truthfully, it had scared him. The knowledge that his dad could've died had shaken him to his very core, and he had no idea how to handle that.

He was certain things would've been better if his girlfriend was by his side. But, sadly, her parents had insisted she come home for the holidays, leaving him to muddle through on his own.

~•~

"Y/N!" Fred ran toward, picking her up in his arms and twirling her around. "I can't believe you're here!" He exclaimed before a confused look settled on his face. "Wait... why are you here?"

His girlfriend gave him a sheepish grin. "There's something I need to tell you."

Fred sat back, stunned. "Sirius is your dad?"

"Sirius Black?" George echoed.

"Yes, Sirius Black is my father." Y/N confirmed.

"But, how?" Fred blistered.

"Well, you see, when a man and a woman - " George began.

"Shut up, George," Fred cut his eyes over at his twin. "I know how," he looked back at Y/N. "But, you know... how?"

Y/N had to stifle a grin. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say, my mum isn't in the picture. My Uncle Mooney took care of me while dad was in Azkaban."

"Wow... " George marveled.

"Why did you tell me?" Fred asked.

"I had to keep it secret. Dad's on the run. Death Eaters are everywhere, and we're starting the Order back up."

"The order?" Her boyfriend looked excited at the prospect. "The Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yep," she confirmed. "With Death Eaters crawling out of the woodwork again, not to mention the possibility that Voldy could come back if he hasn't already, they thought it be a good idea to revive it. And Grimmauld Place will be the headquarters this time around."

"Wicked," Fred replied. "So, my girlfriend is in league with infamous Order of the Phoenix."

Y/N laughed. "I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that. But, yeah, kinda."

"Well," George clapped his hands on his lap and stood. "That's all I need to know right now to know this is going to be an awesome Christmas." He looked at Y/N. "Just a suggestion. You might wanna wait until Harry gets here to get into the fine details. That way, you don't have to tell it twice."

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, good idea."

George grinned. "Well, I'm gonna go find something to eat and let you two catch up."

Once George was gone, Y/N scooted closer to Fred. "I'm glad we get to spend Christmas together after all."

"Me too," he smiled. "It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"I'm really glad to see you're dad's doing better. I was really worried about him."

"So, was I," Fred admitted, his cheeks growing hot. "I - I really missed you being there with me."

Y/N smiled, pretending she didn't notice the lovely blush rise up across his cheeks and pulled him closer. "Well, I'm here with you now."

"I'm glad," Fred gave a small grin and looked down, trying to hide the stubborn crimson that'd taken up residence on his face.

"But, you know," Y/N continued. "You're failing in your duties as a good boyfriend."

"What?" Fred looked up, eyes wide.

"You've been here for a whole half hour, and you haven't kissed me once."

"Oh dear, you're right," he sat up straight, and his usual, confident cockiness came roaring back. "I must do something about that immediately."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @smallsweetvanillabean @costheticbabe @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @charmedfandomgal @loveosewood @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @lizzytrees @spididerman

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Eight

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Eight: Dueling on Isla de Muerta

Summary: Elizabeth and (Y/N) aren't going to abandon Will, and they decide to act like proper pirates.

            “Mr. Sparrow, you will come with us,” said Norrington. Far away in the bay of Isla de Muerta, the Pearl bobbed in the water. Night blanketed every ship in darkness, which meant the other crew hadn’t spotted them at all.

            “We want to—”

            “You and Miss Swann will wait here,” said Norrington curtly, looking sharply at (Y/N), who flinched. He turned away, and Jack was escorted to a rowboat with Norrington and the officers.

            “Wait!” said Elizabeth. “You need to know something.” They had tried the entire trip to speak, and everyone ignored them.

            “Enough, Elizabeth,” sighed Swann. “Please, no more trouble.”

            “We’re serious, you’re about to go into danger, and you have no idea what you’re doing!” said (Y/N).

            “Put them in my cabin,” said Norrington to his men as he stepped into the rowboat.

            Two guards grabbed Elizabeth, and another two grabbed (Y/N) by the arms. Swann averted his eyes as they were pushed towards the cabin.

            “Listen!” shouted (Y/N). “The pirates, they’re cursed!”

            “They can’t be killed!” cried Elizabeth as she and (Y/N) were shoved into the captain’s cabin.

            “Don’t worry, Miss. He’s informed of that,” said a soldier, smirking. “A mermaid flopped up on deck and told him the whole story.”

            The doors were shut. The lock turned. A click sealed them in the room.

            Elizabeth and (Y/N) looked at each other furiously. They would not stand by silently.

l

            On the Isla de Muerta, Jack calmly slipped through the crowd of chanting pirates. Barbossa once more stood over the group with Will in hand, ready to spill blood on Aztec coins to free them from their curse. Slowly, the cheers died out as people noticed him until silence overtook the hall.

            “Jack!” exclaimed Will, shocked.

            “It’s not possible,” breathed Barbossa. Twice now he’d abandoned Jack on the island, and twice now he’d returned.

            “Not probable,” corrected Jack.

            “Where’s Elizabeth and (Y/N)?!” cried Will.

            “They’re safe, just like I promised,” said Jack. “Elizabeth’s set to marry Norrington, like she promised, and you get to die for her like you promised. So we’re all men of our word, really. Except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman. And (Y/N) didn’t make a promise, so they’re not breaking anything!” He smiled.

            “Shut up! You’re next.” Barbossa waved his knife around before lifting it to Will’s neck once again.

            “You don’t want to be doing that, mate,” said Jack.

            “No, I really think I do,” said Barbossa.

            “Your funeral,” said Jack casually.

            Barbossa heaved a sigh before looking at Jack and entertaining him. “Why don’t I want to be doing it?”

            “Oh, because the HMS Dauntless, pride of the Royal Navy, is floating just offshore, waiting for you,” said Jack.

            The crowd of pirates murmured worriedly.

            “Just hear me out, mate,” said Jack before Barbossa could say anything. “Order your men to row out to the Dauntless. Robert’s your uncle, Fannie’s your aunt.” He grinned, and the pirates murmured excitedly now. “There you are with two ships. The makings of your very own fleet. You’ll take the grandest as your flagship, and who’s to argue? But what of the Pearl? Name me captain, I’ll sail under your colors. I’ll give you ten percent of me plunder, and you get to introduce yourself as Commodore Barbossa. Savvy?”

            “I suppose, in exchange, you wanted me not to kill the whelp,” said Barbossa.

            Jack shrugged. “Not at all. By all means, kill the whelp.”

            Will’s face fell. Jack’s gaze flicked to him, but he was making sure his plan was in motion.

            “Just not yet. Wait to lift the curse until the opportune moment,” continued Jack.

            Will glanced at Jack in surprise. That would give him time to escape. Time to survive. Time to help (Y/N) and Elizabeth.

            “For instance, after you’ve killed Norrington’s men,” suggested Jack, running his hands over the Aztec gold. “Every. Last. One.”

            Will frowned. Each word had been punctuated by a coin clicking back into the chest, but something felt…off. “You’ve been planning this from the beginning,” snapped Will. “Ever since you learned my name!”

            “Yeah.” Jack admitted it freely.

            “I want fifty percent of your plunder,” said Barbossa.

            “Fifteen,” countered Jack.

            “Forty.”

            “Twenty-five.”

            Barbossa paused and considered.

            “I’ll buy you the hat. A really big one,” said Jack. “Commodore.”

            “We have an accord,” said Barbossa. He shook Jack’s hand.

            “All hands to the boats!” declared Jack. He cleared his throat as Barbossa looked at him. “Apologies. You give the orders.”

            “Gents! Take a walk!” said Barbossa.

            The fight was on.

            For a moment, the image of (Y/N), smiling and saluting to freedom, appeared in Jack’s mind. He pushed it away after pausing for a second. He didn’t have time for that. He was a pirate. Jack’s priority was himself.

l

            “Elizabeth? (Y/N)?” Swann knocked lightly on the door of the cabin the pair were locked in. He cleared his throat when he got no response. “I want you to know I understand. (Y/N), you wanted to help Elizabeth. I understand that, and you were quite brave. But you put yourself in danger and engaged in illegal activity. No matter how brave you were, that was wrong.”

            (Y/N) tightened the latest knot of sheets, and Elizabeth grabbed another cloth.

            “And Elizabeth, I believe you made a very good decision today,” continued Swann. “Couldn’t be prouder of you. But, you know, even a good decision, if made for the wrong reasons, can be a wrong decision.”

            Elizabeth pushed the back cabin window open and threw the makeshift rope down to a lifeboat. She slid down, and (Y/N) descended behind her. She steadied (Y/N) as they landed.

            Swann received no response from either his daughter or his ward. “Elizabeth? (Y/N)? Are you there? Are you even listening to me?” He pushed the door open to find no one within.

            Elizabeth and (Y/N) were already rowing away. Behind them, unbeknownst to all, a skeleton crew was descending upon the British navy.

l

            “I must admit, Jack, I thought I had you figured, but it turns out you’re a hard man to predict,” said Barbossa. He and a few of his man had remained in the cave of treasures to guard Jack and Will.

            “Me? I’m dishonest,” said Jack. “And a dishonest man you can trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it’s the honest ones you want to watch out for.” He swaggered around the cave. “Because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly stupid.” He looked directly at Will, who furrowed his brow.

            Am I getting a message? thought Will.

            He was not left wondering for long. Jack pulled a cutlass from the pirate to his side and tossed it to Will. He caught it with his bound hands and shoved his guard back. Barbossa instantly drew his sword, and Jack slashed at him. Barbossa parried. The fight was on.

            Will pivoted and let a pirate slash wildly through the ropes to free his hands but whirling and attacking himself. It was two versus three, but Will could handle Barbossa’s lackeys while Jack faced Barbossa himself.

            “You’re off the edge of the map, mate,” sneered Barbossa, pressing his sword towards Jack. “Here there be monsters!”

l

            Elizabeth and (Y/N) arrived at the edge of the Black Pearl. They climbed up the side of the ship, careful not to speak lest a pirate overhear them. They pulled themselves onto the deck upon seeing no one stirring.

            Screech!

            A skeletal monkey dropped down in front of them and screamed at the top of its little lungs. (Y/N) grabbed it and threw it into the sea. Undoubtedly, someone had heard, but that had given them a bit of satisfaction.

            Quickly, (Y/N) and Elizabeth hid beside the stairs as the two guards left behind ran up on deck. Then, the pair slipped down into the hull of the ship to the brig.

            “Miss Elizabeth! (Y/N)!” exclaimed Gibbs in surprise.

            “Who’s ready to escape?” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

            “Have I ever told you I think you’re crazy but bloody brilliant?” said Anamaria.

            “Feel free to start calling me that after we survive,” said (Y/N), wedging a plank under the door like they’d seen Will do. They pushed down, and the cell door clanged open.

            “Now, who will come with us to save Will? And Jack, I suppose. They’re in the cave, and they’re in danger,” said Elizabeth.

            Silence.

            “Come on!” said Elizabeth, frustrated.

            “Any port in a storm,” squawked Cotton’s parrot.

            “Cotton’s right. We’ve got the Pearl,” said Gibbs.

            “Are you going to just leave Will and Jack?” (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. “After we saved you, you’re going to just leave?”

            “Jack owes us a ship,” said one pirate.

            “And you owe us your lives now,” snapped (Y/N).

            “There’s the Code to consider,” said Gibbs.

            “The Code?” repeated Elizabeth. “You’re pirates. Hang the Code, hang the rules! They’re more like guidelines, anyways.”

            “I hate rules,” huffed (Y/N). They glared at all the pirates. “We came back for you when we should have abandoned you according to the Code.” They smiled curtly. “Please try to remember that as you sail away.”

            The pirates shifted uncomfortably, and (Y/N) and Elizabeth turned away. They got back into their lifeboat and began rowing away. If no one would help them, so be it. They’d still go and help Will—and Jack, by extension.

            They ran through the tunnels and arrived in the treasure room just in time to see Will knocked to his back in the shallow water. A pirate grinned down over him.

            “I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain!” he sneered.

            “Do you like pain?” said Elizabeth, grabbing a golden scepter.

            The pirate paused and turned. She slammed the scepter into his head. He went reeling backwards, and Elizabeth glared.

            “Try wearing a corset,” snapped Elizabeth.

            Unproperly fastened, too, thought (Y/N).

            Will stood and stared at Elizabeth as if she was the whole world. He was shocked to see her but ever so relieved. Elizabeth smiled before looking at Barbossa and Jack, still dueling. They moved through the shallow water, piles of treasure, and moonlight. They transformed from human to skeleton in the light—even Jack, now that he’d taken an Aztec coin to ensure he was safe from being killed.

            “Whose side is Jack on?” asked Elizabeth.

            “At the moment?” said Will. He shrugged. It was always up in the air. He frowned. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

            “What do you mean? They are right—” Elizabeth turned to find the teenager missing. “Oh, hell.”

            The three other pirates had recovered their wits and were approaching Elizabeth and Will again, so they gathered their weapons and prepared to meet them head on while also trying to wildly look around and identify (Y/N)’s whereabouts.

            Barbossa grinned as he and Jack continued their dance.

            Wham!

            He stumbled forward and narrowly avoided one of his bones from being sliced away by rolling to the side. He whirled and glared at the source of the kick. (Y/N) stood, holding a cutlass, and glared at him.

            “Oh, gods,” huffed Barbossa. Nothing was going to plan once again.

            “Here to join the party, eh?” said Jack, grinning.

            “Well, I’m still a bit upset about being left for dead,” said (Y/N).

            “It will happen again if you don’t pay attention!”

            Barbossa swung at them, and (Y/N) jumped back to dodge. They landed in the shallow water, but, instead of slowing down or stumbling, they expertly balanced and blocked his next swing. For once, all the energy and constant restlessness had settled into the ebb and flow of battle. They felt at home in the dance of a duel.

            Barbossa swung at them, but Jack interceded and stabbed at Barbossa, who spun and blocked. (Y/N) stabbed their sword into his leg bones and twisted, forcing him to his knee for a moment.

            “Jack!” shouted (Y/N), nodding to the Aztec chest.

            Jack turned and saw Will standing there, sword in hand. Jack understood. He sliced his own hand open, clutched the gold coin in it, and tossed it up to Will, who drew his blade.

            (Y/N) lunged, Barbossa drew his pistol, and everyone froze.

            Bang!

            Barbossa’s head jerked towards Jack in confusion. “Ten years you carry that pistol, and now you waste your shot.”

            “He didn’t waste it,” said Will.

            Barbossa whirled, and his eyes widened as he saw Will, hand sliced opened, drop two bloody coins into the chest. (Y/N) felt a cold breeze fly over them, and they knew instantly the curse had been broken. The gold could rest easily now.

            Barbossa cautiously opened his coat and stared in shock at his chest. Right at his heart, blood was staining his white shirt. It poured steadily, no curse to stop it. He looked up at Jack and (Y/N), and something akin to a smile appeared on his face.

            “I feel…” His face fell. “Cold.”

            Barbossa collapsed. His eyes stared, unseeing, at the night sky. He was dead.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

@froggyisfriend

@elliottheidiot2007

@paastaboi

@urlocalsabito

@speckle-meow-meow

@dmitrytherat

@vanessa-boo

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

[whumpbby]

You know what would make The Untamed/MDZS even better?

If Mo Xuanyu wasn't gone - he's there, stuck in the back of Wei Wuxian's head, commenting on everything that happens and providing the protagonist with information we need.

Like, wwx comes back with his knowledge of the world ending when he died and has Mo Xuanyu running a sulky and sarcastic commentary to let him (and us) know what's what.

"Yes, I want you to kill these people!"

"Harsh, they're your family."

"They deserve it!!"

Or.

"Lan Wangji still resides on the second place of of the Bachelor list."

"...good?"

"You were taken off it."

"Gasp! Rude!"

Or,

"Oh shit, Jin Ling! Run!!"

"What? That is...?!"

"Run!! His uncle will decimate us! You just had to mess with Yunmeng Jiang, did you??? One sect no one wants to mess with!!!"

"Uncle? Jiang Cheng? Calm down, he's a reasonable..."

"Oh gods, were dead! *Mo Xuanyu pacing in their shared mindscape* We're dead twice! Jiang Sect Leader will skin us! I will die for the second time, skinned by the hottest man in Jianghu!"

"No one will skin any...hottest???? Mo Xuanyu!!"

And of course, bitterly jealous commentary on the ridiculously stupid way Lan Zhan tries to woo Wei Wuxian. He cannot stand the drama between these two. Are they both blind??

"Oh, I bet his dick is big."

"I don't need commentary, Mo-shidi, thank you."

"I mean, look at his hands and feet, there has to be some..."

"Thank you!"

"Not as pretty as Jin Guangyao or Sect Leader Jiang, but..."

"Thank.You!!!"