#hell I could talk about color alone for hours

[loregoddess]

Osvald for the ask meme

Hecking love this guy...

how much I like their personality: Very much, which was a surprise to me. For a variety of reasons, I'm not fond of the "emotionless or emotionally stunted intellectual who prizes their lack of emotion as proof of their intellect (or else the intellectual with an utter lack of understanding of emotion in general)" as a trope (I am not summarizing that trope well, but, y'know, that trope), so I started off a bit wary every time the narrative made it seem like Osvald didn't know what love (or other emotions outside of revenge) were, but his narrative dovetailing into "actually he has known love (and other emotions) all along and just didn't have a name for them bc he was so preoccupied with his research, but actually he has loved and loves very deeply and this is a key aspect of his characterization" was a really nice subversion of my expectations and fears, and as a result Osvald ended up being a really interesting character. I love the duality of his focus on his research and rather blunt way of speaking being juxtaposed with how deeply he actually cares, and how despite at the beginning of his story where he believes himself a hollow shell of a man who can only seek vengeance, that he's actually so full of care for his family and the other travelers, and he actually does understand emotions even if it's not like, in a conventional way and not quite to the same level or type of emotional intelligence as a few of the other travelers. I just think Osvald's a really interesting, great character!

how much I like their design/aesthetics Overall, I love his character design! I think leaving the prison chains around his neck was a weird design decision, esp. after his main story arc is beaten (hey if they could take the cuff thingy off Therion after story completion, Osvald could have gotten some new clothes...), but overall I feel like his design reflects his characterization very well. He has this big, tall, hulking figure, and comes off as rather intimidating at first, which is fitting because he starts off as hellbent on revenge and also he can literally mug people at night, but then we learn that Loving Father is deeply ingrained in his core personality, so that the hulking figure becomes more like that of a protective mother bear (or Juvah, to quote Ochette). I felt like the designers also did a good job having his general appearance change to reflect his life circumstances (i.e. before the murder of his family, his hair is kept tied back, he's always dressed nicely, it's very heavily implied this was partly Rita's work but we still get the sense that his life is "together" as a result; whereas after breaking out of prison his hair is unkempt and he wears his old prison rags because he can no longer focus on living, with all his energy going towards his vengeance quest; and then of course we get how he's dressed in his ending art which I feel speaks for Osvald's entire character arc and growth very nicely). The overall choice for a color palette focused on browns and beiges was a nice touch too, because brown can very easily be made to look like a cold color in certain lighting, but likewise can be a very warm color depending on the light, which reflects the duality of Osvald's characterization very well too. I'm uh, gonna wrap this up here bc character design actually is my passion and we'll be here all day if I try to go over every aspect of his design, but as an artist with an interest in character design, I think Osvald's got a strong design overall and I like it a lot.

how interesting I think they are As stated in different ways above, I think Osvald's very interesting! Would probably write up an entire analysis of his arc and characterization and other stuff if I had the energy and time.

how well-written I think they are Overall I liked Osvald's writing quite a bit. His narrative arc was one of my favorites from the game, and I felt like the story beats and his characterization came through very clearly. I also felt that the turning point in his narrative (Ch4) was one of the strongest narrative turning points out of all the travelers (only being beat out by Castti's for my personal favorite of the mid-story turning points). Despite my love of a good ol' fashioned revenge tale, I was delighted by how Osvald's arc subverted my expectations without any of the plot twists or reveals feeling contrived or out-of-place. Especially on my second run with The Knowledge Of What Happens, I have an appreciation for how his story is being set up and how certain things were hinted at earlier if not outright foreshadowed. Very enjoyable writing overall!

(if applicable) how much I like their mechanics in-game Octo2 has some of the best game mechanics of any jrpg I've played (for my personal tastes), and Osvald's definitely one of my favorite characters to play. He starts off a bit of a glass canon, but with the right setup of equipment he becomes pretty sturdy quickly enough. I like having him in the cleric class because of the access Mystic Staff, and Holy Light is a useful single-enemy offensive skill to use for when Osvald's latent ability isn't full, but he does well in pretty much any class I stick him in, and his personal EX skill is one of my favorite EX skills from the entire game (although as to the divine EX skill well...I've literally never needed to use Teach so uh...that one was more of a miss for me). One of my main damage-dealers in endgame teams, and I used him specifically to churn out high damage hits in the fight with the optional superboss (that's all he did the entire battle), that's how powerful he ended up for me.

if I think they are a Good Person(tm) I'm not really invested in fictional character morality, but sure, even with the mugging and stuff Osvald seems like a decent enough person. Probably wouldn't be one of the main protagonists sort of implied to be chosen by the gods themselves to safeguard the world otherwise.

[kingtomura]

Arcade

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3 | Part 4 is here!

You meet him on a Friday.

The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up. 

Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears. 

The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched. 

You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it. 

The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.

You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.

“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Irritating. 

You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”

He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you. 

This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes. 

To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud. 

The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”

You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”

He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it. 

“No thanks.” 

This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course. 

But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one. 

You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage. 

You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again. 

He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies. 

The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. 

You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”

He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun. 

“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.

Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.

You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon. 

It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment. 

He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun. 

Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral. 

It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies. 

Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot. 

The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t. 

You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.

Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him. 

“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.

It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen. 

You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.

“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”

He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears. 

“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again. 

“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round. 

“Sure.”

And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.

—---------------------

The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.

The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions. 

“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close. 

Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.

The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.

You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain. 

“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.

“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.

Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”

“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”

“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.

“Fine, I'll try it.”

Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune. 

“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.” 

Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely. 

It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both. 

“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face. 

You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.” 

“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.

“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.” 

“I could beat you at other games.”

This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” 

He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.” 

You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.” 

The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”

You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.” 

He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.

Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience. 

You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last. 

The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not. 

“Oh, come on!” You shout.

“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win. 

Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line. 

Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again. 

He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”

“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.

“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.” 

“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”

Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.” 

The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that. 

“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place. 

It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up. 

“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment. 

Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”

His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.

“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm. 

Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks. 

You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation. 

But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?

“Do you want to go another round?”

“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”

You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute. 

It's settled. You hate this man. 

His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.

“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head, 

“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now. 

“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?” 

You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.

“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you. 

“I know why.” 

You brace yourself for mortification. 

“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.” 

He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you. 

He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes. 

God, maybe he’s an idiot. 

You want to kiss him. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”

There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice. 

“Sure.”

The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match. 

“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up. 

You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.  

You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.

“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.

“Um, home? It’s getting late.”

“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”

You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.

So you do.

And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.

“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.

“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.” 

Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”

You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up. 

The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.

“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”

“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.

You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”

The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.

Or kiss him.

Whichever came first. 

Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone. 

That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed. 

Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out. 

“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room. 

You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely. 

“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.

“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips. 

It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him. 

He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp  when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties. 

It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there. 

Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today. 

He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch. 

But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out. 

“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure. 

“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver. 

Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”

Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt. 

“Get this off.” 

You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do. 

No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices. 

There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine. 

It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made. 

Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer. 

He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more. 

You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.

Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours. 

Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze. 

“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious. 

You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”

Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”

The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other. 

“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?” 

You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words. 

There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?” 

His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.” 

Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake. 

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.

Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.

Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”

You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”

Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties. 

“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”

And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close. 

It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there. 

Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild. 

You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm. 

Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release. 

“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”

“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side. 

You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them. 

You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you. 

It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation. 

He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation. 

“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.

“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”

And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket. 

You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..? 

“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head. 

His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.” 

And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out. 

He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation. 

“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip. 

Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves. 

The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure. 

It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again. 

You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax. 

“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh— 

You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you. 

It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.” 

You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you. 

You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance. 

The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt. 

The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch. 

Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined. 

“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.” 

Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.

You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.

“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside. 

“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again. 

Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.” 

You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”

Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.” 

And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words. 

You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder. 

The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today. 

“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”

You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”

The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family. 

And they were loving! Loving and observant.

You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet. 

Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out. 

It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent. 

You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.

“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”

And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”

Oh, god. They knew.

“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”

Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle. 

“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”

Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.” 

The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you. 

“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”

You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you. 

It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.

—-------------------------

And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you. 

The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy. 

It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child. 

Even though you’re an adult. 

Even though you can make your own decisions about your life. 

It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off. 

You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture. 

“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”

“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way. 

There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand. 

“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”

Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”

She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.” 

It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex. 

They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.

“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”

Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?” 

They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it. 

To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall. 

The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor. 

How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks. 

Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning. 

It’s been a week. 

A long, boring, drawn-out week. 

You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried. 

It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long. 

You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely. 

Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around. 

You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone. 

So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.

You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.

Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence. 

It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you. 

It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together. 

There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.

You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind. 

But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you. 

Tomura. 

He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization. 

“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears. 

You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.

“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by. 

You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”

“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”

The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue. 

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”

This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you. 

“Then don’t.”

“What?” 

“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”

Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?” 

There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours. 

It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.

[littlechivalry]

Eddie wakes up alone.

It shouldn't feel like a surprise. Apart from a few nights after he first moved in with Wayne when nightmares chased him out of his own bed and the few foggy memories of his childhood and mom that weren't colored by the looming presence of Al Munson he has always slept alone. Likes it that way in fact, he gets to stretch out and move, leave a light on if he wants it, pace next to the bed if he needs to.

Still, he thought...

This thing with Steve had been a surprise. Absolutely no part of it was predictable, starting with a broken bottle and Reefer Rick's shitty boathouse, racing through the closest to hell Eddie ever wants to see not once but twice, and then the hospital room.

Eddie hadn't even had the chance to make full eye contact with the guy when suddenly they were invalid neighbors, ass-baring hospital gowns and all.

Two weeks at Hawkins General, another month in Loch Nora while Wayne got their new place sorted and Eddie spent almost every waking minute feeling his mangled bites healing with Steve beside him, a full companion in misery.

Eddie had never spent that much time with another person, not one on one. The kids came and left without warning and Buckley had taken up part time residence on the living room couch but there were a lot of hours where it was just Eddie. And just Steve.

They talked about everything.

The full tale of the Upside Down was their first topic of conversation, with the rest of the party popping in to add details and commentary. Then it was music, and school, and family. They talked about their pasts, the shared moments they had discovered talking through everything else and the moments that neither had ever shared before.

They talked about the future. Eddie's first and truest love was stories. It's why he read. It's why he played D&D. It's why he loved the music that he loved.

Steve talked about family, both the one he had been born into and the one that had built up around him.

It had built so slowly over the weeks and Eddie had never felt something like this before so he didn't realize he was falling in love until he was well and truly right in the middle of it. And wonder of wonders it felt like Steve was there with him.

So why did Eddie wake up alone?

After all the time they spent hanging out together Steve had finally insisted they have an official date or as close to one as it was safe to get. They drove out of town, visited a diner neither of them had ever seen before where they knew nothing and no one and no one knew them. They had burgers, and split a plate of fries. Two vanilla milkshakes that they traded halfway through their meals, not quite sharing but as close as they could get to the single shared milkshake of Eddie's first date dreams. So close it took Eddie's breath away, that he could have something like this.

Steve drove Eddie home, dropped him off at the door with a chaste kiss. Like a gentleman. Like a knight.

And then an hour later he climbed through Eddie's window with a bag of chips and a movie.

They had fallen asleep together in a pile of crumbs and though Eddie couldn't see Steve's face in the dark, he assumed the other boy was smiling too.

Eddie rubbed his eyes. They were dry. He wasn't crying. He wasn't going to cry.

His head felt heavy with the tears he had decided, as an adult, not to cry. He used the bathroom without turning on the light and then headed out to the living room, half hoping Wayne would be there, half hoping he might be alone to mourn something that had barely begun before it ended.

"Hey there, kid," Wayne murmured behind the newspaper. "Have a good night?"

Eddie sighed. "It was. The morning, not so much."

"Yeah, I saw your boy off this morning."

"That's more than I can say," Eddie scoffed.

Wayne put the paper down and Eddie felt pinned in place by his uncle's eyes.

"Look, it's fine," Eddie said. "We had a good night but he had to leave. And I get it. This is a lot. I'm a lot." Eddie gestured at himself and if he flailed his arms a little more than usual it was fine. He was just... on edge.

Wayne looked at Eddie again and his concerned expression faded into something almost like... glee?

Eddie pointed at his uncle. "What are you laughing at, old man?" He had to admit he felt a little betrayed. Wayne had been almost as excited about this date as Eddie was.

"Look at your arm, son," Wayne says softly before picking the newspaper up again.

Eddie stepped back. "What?" He looked down at his arms.

Scars and the tattered remnants of his tattoos, nothing he hadn't seen before. He twisted his arms, trying to see whatever it is Wayne had seen and high on his bicep he saw it.

Thick black marker lines, smudged into his skin in the shape of Steve's terrible penmanship.

'At work babe. Love you.'

"How the fuck did he do this," Eddie muttered.

"You sleep like the dead," Wayne muttered. "He could have written an essay if your arms weren't so damned skinny."

Eddie gasped, then laughed. "Wayne! How could you?"

Wayne just laughed, the paper jostling with his breath.

Eddie stumbled his way to another kitchen chair, his eyes still focussed on the note.

"Don't think he wanted to leave," Wayne said. "Practically had to shove him out the door."

"Yeah," Eddie said, softly. He could get it tattooed. Those words. 'Love you.'

"I expect he'll be back tonight?"

Eddie nodded, then stood up sharply. "Not if I go to him first!"

Eddie charged for the door. Too many times had Steve chased after him, now it was Eddie's turn.

"You might want to put a shirt on," Wayne called.

Eddie froze in space, his outstretched fingers only inches away from the doorknob.

After he put a shirt on. And probably shoes. And grabbed his keys.

[yandere-kokeshi]

— Who hurt you?

— yandere dad-ghost x gn teenager reader

Summary || You come home bloodied and bruised from school. While getting patched up by your dad, you reveal things

A/N || This is one of my favorite fics atm. Idk why but seeing soft dad ghost?? Yeah. That's how to do, my heart is. Anyway, enjoy 😉

Warnings || details of being hurt/bullied, blood, hints that ghost kills, and comfort.

Copper and sharpie. That’s all you can smell. The stench has embossed itself on your clothes, your flesh, and inside your nostrils. It was embarrassing really, coming home after being chased by bullies. 

They slapped you to the ground. Laughed in your face as the girls kept you from getting up, sitting directly on your chest. They pulled out permanent markers and drew foul things on your face, arms, and legs. 

Knead your stomach and kicked you. All you wanted was to hang out with them.

Silence settles between the bathroom, hearing your dad — Simon Riley, Ghost or a big Kodiak bear you like to call him, go through his bedroom, the sounds of his drawers opening and closing as he huffs loudly.

You heard the cruel rumors of your reputation. It was a gnawing sort of feeling of betrayal. One that ate away at your very soul and left nothing but pain in its wake. The action alone may not be the worst thing in the entire world. But what made betrayal ache was that in the past, in its place, was trust.

The rumors of you spread like a disease; whispers in the school of ‘slut’ and ‘freak’. Everyone looked at you like something else. Even teachers scoffed at you. You thought you could handle it, until today. It’s expected for your favorite shirt to be stained — again. 

You didn’t want to hear your dads voice. Him being incredibly disappointed in you. 

You leaned your head on the back of the toilet, chewing the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to come in. It was long, just like the torture you’d endured hours before. 

“What happened?” 

You stayed quiet, continuing to look up at the white ceiling before turning your head to the side, looking at him in the doorway with half-lidded eyes. He’s leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest; almost like he’s disappointed. But his voice says otherwise. 

“Kiddo, what happened?” he re-asks, his boots creaking with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space toward you. 

You stayed quiet, making him stare at you before sighing. 

He opened the bottom of the sink, grabbed the med kit and seized the necessary items before turning on the faucet, grabbing another dark rag due to the one you’re holding already used; stained with markers, blood, and some snot.  

Your dad clicked his tongue, “What the hell happened?”

“M’ don’t wanna talk about it,” 

“You worried me,” your dad voiced, using your name. You considered his words carefully, staring at your lap, legs, and arms littered with all kinds of marks. 

“You also worry too much,” you pointed out, watching him kneel before you. 

He steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn’t speak; at first, silence hangs between you, once again as throws it away; grabbing the cloth into the sink. Then, he soaks it until it’s dripping, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint color and standing out against his pale skin.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” he directs, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. “I thought something happened. Which did.”

You stayed quiet for a second. “… I didn’t mean to scare you,” you whisper. 

You can see his brown eyes narrow, his mind occupied by something. Clearly, he’s angry. And who wouldn’t? Finding your kid barely able to stand up, laying against the wall for help covered in bruises and blood, was a frightening sight. Especially with his type of job, anything is possible. 

The pressure of the cloth against your face is so delicate, almost like he’s appearing afraid to hurt you — gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline as well as the drawings. He shakes his head gently, considering your words. “Not your fault, kiddo.”

He then grabbed your arm, rotating your wrist as he examined the bruises and forming – you watched his face fill with fury.

“Who did this to you?” he seethed, voice deep and low, a tone you’d heard not so much before. 

You shook your head, clearly not in the mood to talk about it. But it didn’t satisfy him, he called your name, demanding you to look at him. Tears were already falling before more words curled out of his mouth.

At long last, finally with the adrenaline and frightened state going away, you let your guard down, letting tears pour down your eyes. It stung, face hurting more than you’d like. But you didn’t care. You needed to cry.

Your hands went up to wipe away the tears, but before you can hit your sore cheeks, he’s capturing you in his arms and pulling you to his chest. He doesn’t say anything, letting your head rest on his shoulder. All you required at this moment was to be held, to know you were loved. And that he wasn’t mad — never at you. 

He rubbed your back, kissing the side of your head as you cried out more — sobbing turned into occasional hiccups and gasps, then sniffles and permanent hiccups that he would occasionally let out a chuckle on. 

“Ready to talk about it, kid?” He asks cautiously, prodding but patient. You only sigh softly before looking up at him, quickly noticing the snot and tears stained into his gray hoodie. 

“It’s just…” you pause, trying to find the right words to say. “Things have been rough, lately. School has been hard. Everything seems to be going wrong. Especially with the other kids.”

His eyes squint as he listens to you speak, the hazel color meeting your own, leaving you choking in your words. He’s your dad. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling him. But what if—?

“—And I know that being a teenager is hard. But, I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to see them.” you trail off, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as you feel your eyes swell up once more.

His thumb catches them before they fall, however, and you smile at him for a moment before continuing.

“I’m scared to go back,” you whisper brokenly. 

For a moment, the bathroom is silent, but all at once your dad’s arms are tightly around you in a hug. All-encompassing, it only makes you cry once more. Your head slumps over, forehead pressing into his shoulder – his hand pressing against the back of your neck.

“How long has it been happening?” 

You shrug your shoulders, digging yourself deeper into his shoulder. “Long enough, I guess…”

“Kiddo…” he starts, sighing out of defeat. “Shit- I’m sorry for not noticing. Le’s keep you home, mkay’?” 

“Okay,” you whisper, but that’s good enough for him. His hands started rubbing your back, before reaching over for the rag on the counter — continuing to clean up the stained marks and your irritated cheeks.

“Do you need me to do anything?” he says, his tone hardened. From the looks of it, he had a plan. But, you knew or not. His face was unreadable at times. 

You shook your head, before hissing out at the soaped cloth on your cheek. He gently moved your hair out of the way, just enough to expose the wound near your eye. 

“Sorry. Need to make sure it won’t get infected.” 

Before you know it, he was done. Already putting the first aid kit back under the sink and throwing the used cloth into the wash. “Tell ya’ what,” he says, making you raise your eyebrows. Though, he pulled his cracked-screen phone from his pocket, the exact one he’s had for years and the one you’ve begged to get a new one. 

He offers it to you, already on the phone on. More often or not, he didn’t let you snoop through it. Licensed files detailed in the phone. Plus, the last time you played a prank on him with it, he grounded you — for two weeks. 

“W-hat do you want me to… do?” you stammered questioningly, hesitantly grabbing it before looking at the screen. Then back at him.

“Order pizza. Get whatever you want.”

Your eyes widened, a smile widening to which he chuckled at. “There you are,” he says fondly, hand brushing your hair back. “You get whatever, yeah?”

“Okay,” you say, the first true smile forming today.

You got up, eagerly running out of the bathroom and downstairs as Simon yelled a small ‘watch it!’. As he gets up from his knees, he walked into his office – making sure to hear that you’re calling the pickup line before ringing Price.

He immediately answered, asking what he needed. From the way you described their name-calling, the images of you sobbing as he held you, anger filled his veins, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist with rage. 

“I need a favor.” 

And weeks later, the news began talking about a murder spree – snapping you out of your thoughts, only to see both of your ex-friends, and those teachers on TV. A pang of guilt set through you. But, beside you, your dad had a huge smile; one that was promising to never let anyone hurt you.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[ohdeerfully]

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours 

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

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You loved antique shopping. 

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover. 

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle. 

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke. 

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant. 

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing,  the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

[chimielie]

cw: a lot of discussion of suggestive / nsfw topics, no actual nsfw, nonsense

related to this but can be read standalone

Hajime thinks he’s getting the hang of this.

Yeah, you’re annoying, much touchier than usual, wearing clothing entirely unsuitable for early November, trying to get him to snap, but it’s been manageable. Only a couple of times he’s had to rip himself away from you before things went any further than he trusted himself to go.

He’s rediscovered the simple pleasure of making out like teenagers, keeping all your clothes on and varying your paces. Just spending hours breathing each other in and kissing slow.

He might even—might—add that there seems to be a kind of emotional benefit to this weird mandated sex break. It lets the both of you talk about your desires with literally no expectation and a lighthearted, joking air that eases Hajime’s intense inclinations exponentially. It’s not something that either of you would ever want to do any longer than you have to or even next year (you’ve been very clear that you see it as some sort of strange extended foreplay, on your end), but its been… better than he’d thought, in some ways.

In some ways it was still hell.

Still, as the days pass and he doesn’t die of blue balls, he starts to figure that this whole challenge might be really doable.

Hajime lies in bed with you, eyes half-shut as the both of you wind down for the evening with your new routine.

Your lips are soft against his, his left hand cupping the back of your neck, the other rubbing slow, light circles into your back. It’s gentle, sweet kissing, not the frantic and heated interaction of more carnal relations. It makes Hajime feel—

His fingertips are buzzing where they touch you, strings playing in his head, his head fuzzy with your scent. Content, like he could stay here forever.

You push yourself up on your elbows suddenly, smoothly, and settle your weight more heavily on his stomach, your knees squeezing his sides. Your pupils are dilated but your gaze is tender, and he can almost feel rose-colored glasses sliding over his face as he stares up at you.

“I’m in love with you,” you say, voice low and throaty from long minutes spent exploring his mouth slowly, excruciatingly so, like you hadn’t since the first months you’d been dating.

Hajime moans.

Loudly and unmistakably and completely involuntarily.

He sits up immediately, pitching you off of him as you collapse in a heap of giggles. His face is burning, he can feel it, but your laughter is surrounding him like a too-deep featherbed.

“I think,” you can hardly breathe, let alone speak through your mirth. He’d throttle you but that would only make things worse right now. “I think you just failed No Nut November.”

[winchesterwild78]

Cranky

Characters: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader 

Warnings: Ben being a dick (I mean he is Soldier Boy), Language, insecurities, Fluff, SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it up people)

A/N: This idea came to me earlier today when I was fighting a bad headache and got a bit cranky. 😀 I wrote it in a matter of hours and didn’t edit it well. Please overlook any mistakes. Afterall, I had a headache and was cranky. 😃

All work is my own, don’t take it!!

Minors DNI 18+

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

“Leave me the fuck alone, Ben! It’s over 100 degrees, the fucking air conditioner isn’t working right, and I have a damn headache. I don’t need your bullshit too! Go cook your own damn dinner.” You shouted as you slammed your shared bedroom door. “Woman, you have some nerve speaking to me like that, and don’t slam my fucking doors.” He growled as he pushed open the door. “YOUR doors?!?! Fuck you, Ben! I thought this was our place? At least that’s what you said when you begged me to move in here. I guess your true colors are showing aren’t they?” “I didn’t beg you to do shit. I’m Soldier Boy, I don’t need to beg for anything, food, drugs, pussy. I get what I want when I want it, doll.” 

Your eyes went wide when he said that. You can handle his puffed up ego, his occasional drug use, even though it’s not as bad as it used to be, hell you can even handle his occasional misogynist views, but you couldn’t handle him talking about being with other women. The thought of him with another woman now just broke your fucking heart. 

The two of you had been together for about a year and a half. You two decided to move in together about six months ago. Most of the time it was fine. There were however days like today when everything hit a boiling point. You loved Ben and you knew he loved you. Sometimes he forgot you were in his corner and he would lash out at you, and sometimes you would forget he couldn’t help the way he is and you would push his buttons. 

You sat down on your shared bed and a single tear rolled down your face. “I need you to leave me alone right now. My head is hurting and I think we both have said some things we will regret later.” You spoke softly. Ben started to protest but was still pissed. He grumbled something under his breath and stormed out of the room. 

You heard the front door slam and you crumbled. You laid in your bed and cried until your head hurt worse and you fell asleep from exhaustion. You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke up. It was dark in the room and the sound of the front door shutting woke you up. You sat up in bed when you heard Ben’s voice and what sounded like another voice. 

You looked over and saw it was after 2 in the morning. You made your way out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway. You froze halfway down the hall when you heard two female voices and Ben’s. “Oh Soldier Boy, I want to show you how much I appreciate your service to our country.” One of them said. “I want to see if I can handle a big supe like you.” The other one said. You rounded the corner and found two, very young, very hot women hanging on Ben, who was dressed in his Soldier Boy uniform. 

You made eye contact with Ben as tears pricked your eyes. How could he betray you by doing this? You’ve given him everything, given up everything to be with him. The women saw you and were startled. “Who’s she?” One of them asked. Ben looked at you with a strange look in his eye and said “She’s nobody important.” Your mouth fell open and your heart shattered. The two women giggled and you turned to walk back to the bedroom. Ben knew what he was doing was wrong. He loved you but he was pissed, hurt even. 

Once in your room you grabbed a bag and started putting things in it. You hoped Ben would come to the room and beg you not to go, but he stayed in the living room with them. You heard giggles and squeals. Each one was like a knife to your heart. Ben was tough, but he was playful, loving and kind too. You finished packing some stuff and walked out of the room. You stopped long enough to see the women kissing Ben and rubbing on his body. You felt sick. 

Ben saw you with your bags. As you got to the door you turned around and said “Goodbye Ben, I love you.” Closing the door you sobbed all the way to your car. 

You drove to one of the closet hotels and checked in. Once in your room you took a shower and crawled into the bed. You curled into a ball and sobbed. You love Ben, you thought he loved you too. Talks between you two involved talking about the future. Marriage, children, retirement, normal life. When the two of you got together the sex was hard and rough, hot. Now it was softer and more loving. You were afraid this was what drove him into their arms. Was your life with Ben too boring, normal now? 

As you drifted off to sleep your phone rang. You looked at the screen and it was Ben. You ignored it. He hung up and called back several times. Finally after ten missed calls, and over a dozen texts you finally answered the phone. “What do you want, Soldier Boy?” You hissed. Ben’s mouth dropped. “Baby, please come home. I’m sorry. I made them leave. Nothing happened. I promise.” Ben said. “I don’t care what you do anymore Soldier Boy, fuck all the bimbos you want. Maybe you’ll find one who will suck your cock and cook your dinner all at the same time.” You seethed. “Please stop calling me Soldier Boy. It’s not my name, it’s not who I am.” Ben pleaded. “Not who you are anymore? Then why were you in the bar picking up women in it? Oh that’s right. Women drop their panties for Soldier Boy. How many of them drop their panties for Ben?” You hissed. Venom dripping with each word. “I’m exhausted Ben, I’m going to sleep. I’ll be by tomorrow for the rest of my things. If you’re still there I’ll be quick so I don’t disturb your plans with whoever is there with you. Good night, Ben. I hope you know how much I loved you.” You said quietly. “Baby please don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I love you too.” You could hear his voice crack. You knew he was crying. 

You hung up and turned your phone’s ringer off. You cried harder. Your heart was broken. You loved him so much and wanted to marry him. You finally fell asleep. You would make a plan tomorrow morning, right now you just wanted to sleep. A few hours later the phone in your hotel room rang. “Hello” you answered groggily. “Hello, Miss. Y/L/N, this is Sarah at the front desk. There is a man here saying he’s your husband. He’s very intoxicated and demanding to see you. If you need me to, I can call the police.” She offered. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be down in a minute.” You sighed and hung up. Grabbing your shoes and robe you made your way down to the lobby. 

There Ben was. Drunk and just an absolute mess. His hair was all over the place, he was dressed in his t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He looked like your Ben. Your soft, kind, loving Ben. “Where is my wife? I know she’s here. Bring her to me. I need to tell her I fucked up and I love her more than anything. Please, bring her to me. Please.” He collapsed on the ground crying. 

You walked over to him and touched his shoulder. “Ben, honey. Come on, get up. Let’s get you upstairs.” You softly said. 

Ben looked up at you. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and red. From booze and crying. As he stood his big arms went around you pulling you into a tight hug. He started sobbing. “Baby I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I love you. I’m a fuck up. I know I don’t deserve you or a second chance, but please don’t leave me. I swear nothing happened with them. I made them leave as soon as you left.” “Ben, honey come on. Let’s go to the room. We both need sleep.” You took his arm and led him to the elevator. On the elevator he held you tight. You tried not to melt into his touch, but you couldn’t help it. 

Once in the room you helped remove his shoes and his clothes down to his boxers. You knew he got hot at night so you wanted to make sure he was comfortable. Thank goodness the air conditioner in the room was working, because Ben was a furnace. Sleeping next to him was always hot. You crawled in bed next to him but kept your distance. You wanted to hold him or be held by him but your heart was still broken. Both of you laid in the dark in silence. Then Ben broke the silence. 

“Y/N, I love you. I know I hurt you and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just need you to know I have never nor would I ever cheat on you. You’re everything to me and I want to marry you and have children with you. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If tomorrow you still want to leave, I’ll help you pack.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead softly. You leaned into his kiss. 

“Ben, I love you too. You broke my heart. Seeing you with those women and you telling them I was nobody important shattered my heart. I saw a future with you. Marriage, children and a happy life. I know you didn’t sleep with them. My Ben could never do that. You might be a hothead, but you’re not a cheater. I know that. I don’t know what to do. How can I be sure when we get into an argument you won't repeat tonight?” You asked him

Ben sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. He turned and looked at you. “Baby, I will spend the rest of our lives proving to you how much I love you and how much you deserve.” You sat up and cupped his face. “I love you Benji.” You placed a soft kiss on his lips. He pulled you in tighter and kissed you deeper. His hands went to the back of your head and pulled you down to the bed. 

You moaned and could feel your arousal starting to grow. Ben stopped and looked at you “so beautiful. My beautiful girl.” You blushed and he kissed you again. His lips set your soul on fire and his touch drove you wild. He pulled at the hem of your shirt and you leaned up helping him remove your shirt. Your bra was already off so your bare breasts were exposed to the cool air in the room. Your nipples grew hard with every touch of Ben’s fingers. His lips trailed down your neck and to your collarbone. One of his calloused hands grabbed your breast and his lips sucked on the other. You tilted your head back and moaned his name. “Mmm, Ben. Please take me now.” You moaned. 

Ben hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants and pulled them down along with your panties. You lifted your hips to help him take them off. You could see his arousal in his boxers and you bit your lower lip. Ben was large and thick. He was bigger than any other man you’d been with. When you first started sleeping together his length and girth hurt, but now it curled your toes. Ben stood beside the bed and removed his boxers, letting his hard length spring free. 

“You ready sweetheart?” Ben asked seductively. You shook your head yes. Not trusting your own voice. “Words, baby girl. Use your words.” Ben said. “Yes, Ben. Please. I need you.” You moaned. Ben climbed on the bed and parted your legs with his. He kissed up your thighs stopping at your dripping wet folds. He used his calloused fingers to separate them, feeling the wetness and heat. He swiped his fingers over your swollen clit and you moaned, bucking your hips. “Don’t tease me, Ben.” you moaned. “So needy, aren’t you sweetheart.” He grinned. 

Ben pumped himself a few times before lining his swollen cock to your dripping wet entrance. He slowly pushed in, you both gasped. You bucked your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist trying to push him in. He took the hint and bottomed out deep inside. “Oh Ben!” You gasped and dug your nails in his biceps. He smirked and pulled almost out before thrusting in again. Each thrust, each moan pushed you closer to the release you were chasing. Ben leaned back, took his thumb and started to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and pushed yourself into his thumb. “Play with yourself baby. I want to feel you cum on my cock. Squeeze my cock with your tight little pussy.” Ben whispered in your ear. 

You reached your hand between the two of you and started rubbing your swollen clit. Ben grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted your legs onto his shoulders. He started to pick up the pace as he was helping you chase your release, he was chasing his too. “Ben..I’m..close..I’m gonna..” “Cum for me sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” Ben urged. “Oh fuck! BEN!!” You screamed his name as you came hard and your walls clenched around his cock. Ben stopped his thrusts and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You cumming like you did almost made him cum too. 

He leaned back up, kissing your lips as he got back in position. He began thrusting in you again. You could tell he was close. His movements became more determined and deeper. Your nails dug into his large biceps and your fingers danced lightly over his toned chest. This man was a god among men and he was all yours. A single tear slipped out of your eye. You weren’t sad, in that moment as you were looking up into his green eyes you knew he meant what he said. He loved you and he wanted only you. Looking deep in his eyes you whispered “I love you, my Benji. Always and forever.” 

Ben leaned down and captured your lips with his. The kiss was soft and full of love. “I love you too, my y/n/n, Always and forever.” His thrust began to get sloppy and you knew he was close. “Cum Ben, please cum in me. Fill me up with your seed. Put a baby in me.” You said breathlessly. That turned Ben on more than you realized. He growled and started to thrust harder. Then with one final thrust he came hard with a loud grunt. You could feel him coat your womb with his seed. As he finished he pulled out. A little of his cum seeped out of your used pussy. 

Ben went to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean you both up. Once you were both clean he tossed it to the side and pulled you close. He kissed your head and both of you let out a contented sigh. “I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Ben. Let’s enjoy this cool air and get some much needed sleep.” You said as you yawned. “I agree, but answer me one question before we go to sleep.” He sat up. “Sure, Ben, what is it?” You asked, closing your eyes. “Will you marry me?” Ben asked. Your eyes opened wide and you sat up. “What?!?” “I want you to marry me. Will you marry me?” Ben questioned again. You sat shocked. “Ben, I would love nothing more than to marry you.” You replied and smiled. He pulled you into a kiss and both of you laid down. 

You placed your head on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. His arms were wrapped around you and he was letting his fingers draw delicate patterns on your skin. You felt safe in his arms. Regardless of everything that happened today, you knew he loved you and you loved him. You understood that sometimes we all can get just a bit cranky. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @stoneyggirl2

[lucszli]

Having a Dottore segment fall for you –

—————————

; crossing paths with an unusual boy, mint colored hair and red eyes. (with such an outlandish personality you weren't sure if he had any experience on human interaction other than you..)

• You were just outside exploring your homeland, despite your parents' warnings that it'd be dangerous to go out alone.

• What would they know? In your opinion, they were just being overprotective and irrational.

• Not until you heard unusual noises. Alone and afraid, you looked around frantically, worried something might jump out at you.

• Something definitely did jump out, or rather, someone...

——

• You weren't sure how you got in this situation, but you seem to have, befriended the person that happened to come out of nowhere??

• He was definitely unusual. You tried talking to him but so far, all you could manage to get out from him was his name. (Zandik, which you weren't sure originated from Snezhnaya or perhaps somewhere else.)

• Despite his reluctance to reply, it wasn't like he had ran away from you yet, so why not try to befriend him, right?

• And it's totally not because you're lonely. Definitely.

• You don't know how long it's been, minutes or hours? But you both sat on the snow, and eventually, he started replying back to you. At first, it was short and reluctant replies, but eventually, it actually felt like you were having a real conversation!

• And you think to yourself, maybe I can finally make a friend? (Also thinking, maybe you're a little desperate for friends if you just started talking to the first guy that pops out, but whatever.)

• Before you knew it, you had to go your separate ways, and you weren't sure if you'd see him again, but that doesn't stop you from forming a plan in your head to come back the next day.

• When you came back, you weren't really expecting him to be there.

• But he was.

• And so, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and you were sure that your parents were worried about you going out all the time without saying where you were going. Even if they scolded you, you didn't really care much.

• You finally made your first friend, who cares?

————————————

“Zandikkk? Are you here yet?” You called out, looking around your usual meet up place. You flinched when you suddenly felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, before calming down and realizing that it was just him.

“Ah!- Can you stop doing that!? It never gets funny, you know!" You complained, turning around to face him. He laughed in your face, and you rolled your eyes. “It is quite funny, you have to admit.” He snickered, sitting down and leaning against the tree you two usually sit at.

Despite being annoyed, you say down next to him and you both started talking. Zandik usually talks about things such as science, experiments, and you didn't really understand much, but that didn't stop you from listening attentively.

With how much you two talk, you found it a bit odd that he's only mentioned his family every now and again. How his father is not really the most loving, and how his siblings were all older than him, so he felt like an outcast in his own family. You didn't want to pry something he might not be comfortable talking about, so you decided not to ask.

You hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and you could feel it's effects from how heavy your eyes felt. Zandik was still talking, and his voice was oddly calming. Before you knew it, your head was drooping and your eyes were closing shut. From how close you two were sitting next to eachother, your head ended up landing against his arm.

Zandik jolted in surprise, abruptly stopping whatever he was talking about to look at you. "[Name]?" He called out. You didn't respond, and it didn't take him long to realize that you fell asleep.

He wasn't sure what to do, so, he stayed as still as he could. Physical touch is not something he's particularly used to. Hell, interacting with others wasn't even something he was used to before you.

He was one of the younger segments. He wasn't sure why he was made if he was just being constantly forgotten or dismissed, treated like some child. He was almost sure that prime had made him out of pure curiosity, or for the sake of an experiment. Since he was forgotten most of the time, he didn't want to stay cooped up in some lab anymore, and started to sneak out and wander around. That's how he met you.

He wasn't quite sure how to feel about you at first. And honestly? Until now, he really isn't sure. He could feel his mind running, as you layed still against him, sleeping without a care in the world. He was making comments in his mind, about how if you had fallen asleep around any of his older versions, you'd probably wake up in a lab or something.. (if you wake up at all.)

He sighed and leaned his head against yours. Snezhnaya is cold as always, but with you so close, he was learning how to appreciate shared body heat.

And a thought crossed his mind that, he wouldn't mind being this close to you all the time.

—————

• After that incident, Zandik realized that his chest felt strangely warm around you, his pulse would quicken, and he'd feel.. nervous? He wasn't sure.

• When he got back to the lab, he sat by himself, trying to make a deduction on what this could possibly mean.

• He somehow came to the conclusion that you were slowly killing him somehow.

• What else could it possibly mean?!

• You came back as always to your meeting spot, but even after waiting for hours, he wouldn't show up.

• It went on like that for almost a week, and you were starting to worry that something had happened to him. (Or maybe he didn't want to be friends anymore..?) You still came back everyday though, in hopes that he'd show.

• You were surprised to see him already there when you came back another day, and you couldn't stop yourself from running over to hug him.

• Saying things like, “Where have you been??" and, “I was so worried about you!”

• He looks troubled, and you were about to ask what was wrong before he went on a long rant about how you made him feel, and how it felt even worse somehow when he avoided you.

• After he was done, he let out a breath of air, and finally looked at you to see your face.

• He did not expect you to be staring back at him with wide eyes, cheeks red, and seemingly not moving.

• He had practically confessed to you, ofcourse you were shocked!

• You took it upon yourself to explain his feelings, because it didn't take a genius to realize that he was completely oblivious to all of it (somehow?)

• You watch him stare off into space after you tell him about "love".

• He wasn't sure how to feel. He wasn't even sure that he could feel in the first place. With how everyone else was, unfeeling, unshaken, he thought he'd grow up to be just like them.

• He considered that he may be a defect, and he actually felt scared thinking about what prime might do if he realizes he was one.

• He was about to shut down this whole love thing completely, until he looked over at you, and he curses all the archons above because why? Why does just looking at you bring all those feelings back?

• When you hold his hand and tell him “it's okay, we can figure it out together!”

• He made the decision of just hiding it from everyone else. What they don't know won't hurt them, right?

• And he also makes up his mind that holding your hand and being close to you is nice, and he wouldn't mind doing it more.

————

Authors note : This came to me in a dream. The thought of falling for a younger, softer? version of dottore, it's just so cute !!

Yes, canon dottore would never, so that's why we're chucking him out the window and bringing in my headcanon segment. Yay!

Might make part 2 if I feel like it.

side note : this is not proofread, apologies for any mistakes. And thank you for reading!:)

[euphietea]

Obsession

Endo Yamato x Hostess!Reader cw. manipulation. drinking. yandere. dc. syn & genre. [concept piece/warmup. no smut.] Endo has set his eyes on a second masterpiece - a seemingly innocent hostess.

­“C’mon baby, you’re really milkin’ me dry,” Endo whined teasingly as another bottle is ordered to their booth, “Already bought your time, now I gotta buy the bottle?”

You laughed, crossing your legs and batting your lashes, “Why of course~ How else am I supposed to pay my phone bill?” Your most devoted customer here had a bad habit of texting you at all hours of the day and night. It was cute! He’d even brag to you about scamming older women out of their money just to pay you.

Endo sucks in a breath, teeth bared in a grin, “Cold. Fine then, baby, I’ll order whatever is expensive.” Somehow those words felt like a challenge. He’d give everything to toy with you. You both knew it. That’s what he found so alluring about you. For as much as he tried to manipulate you, get you to come home with him, get you to bend to his will, you put up a fight of your own. “You’re an honored guest, but we need to start of slow!” You’d say and “Oh, but surely I’m more expensive than you can afford~?” It was cat-and-mouse. If you’d just let him tap it from the start, maybe he would’ve left you alone. But no.

“And here I am, abandoning my masterpiece for little ol’ you.” Chiika was already far long in the process. Endo didn’t need to worry too much about his masterpiece going astray. He could just gently bap him back into place with a few nudges. You were his newest fixation. He knew you had a certain cruelty he couldn’t ignore. He saw the glimmer in your eyes whenever you drew in some poor sucker like a sailor to a siren’s song. The dark ocean of sneering delight when you had a man hook, line, and sinker only proved that the two of you were cut from the same cloth. You were the object of his desires – a challenge, even. If only you’d listen to him and you’d be perfect. If only you’d let him in.

In his mind, he was playing 4D chess. He pretended to be utterly infatuated to you, to trust him. Then he’d gently guide you into hell with his own two hands. With each stroke of the brush, he’d color you anew. He’d guide you just as much as he’d worship the very ground you stepped on. How beautiful you could be if only you leaned into your carnal desires. To see your delicate hands reach for him in the same, crazed way he reached for you.  

The bottle came around with two glasses. You reached for the bottle only for him to grab your hands, “Allow me~.” If you only listened to his cash, he’d make the money talk.

[rockatanskette]

Semi-related to my post on how human conservation practices, but I have a cold today, and it's got me thinking about biological altruism—the biological imperative to put other creatures ahead of yourself, to benefit the group.

When talking about possible interactions with other species, we talk a lot about humans being crazy and thrill-seeking and impossible to kill. Never use a warning shot as an incentive to keep humans out of a fight; it'll just make them angry. And that's true. But a valid criticism I've seen in the "Earth is a death world" community is that according to our understanding of evolution, every planet must be some form of death world. Competition fosters evolution—the wolf with sharper claws survives when its litter mates die. You can't reach space travel without some casualties along the way.

But the dog survives because it makes friends with the strange ape carrying a sharp stick. And the strange ape survives because it befriends the wolf. Underneath the death world is an inextricable and undeniable layer of the bond world; the love world; the world, together.

I imagine some worlds are not death worlds. They're peaceful and tranquil. I suspect there are worlds far more deadly than Earth, where the skies rain diamonds, harder than any substance we know with the species to match. And I imagine that they are united in their confusion at the duality of humankind.

Today is a great example: I have a cold, and I want someone to take care of me, but the people who would are immunocompromised, also sick, or live 8 hours away, respectfully. I also want no one within the walls of my apartment or I will eat them. I feel gross, I feel tired, and I don't want a single human being anywhere near me, even if they did bring soup.

In my constant scrolling through my phone today, I decided to look up why the hell I feel so bad—why everyone feels so bad when they're ill. And the answer surprised me. I always thought it was because your immune system is active, so it's using a lot of your energy. That is part of it. Another part is that your brain and body are communicating across the blood-brain barrier to fight the infection, which is rare and energetically expensive.

But that doesn't explain everything, and according to more current research, it could also be what's called the Eyam Hypothesis: that we feel so gross, so we instinctively isolate from other people. We're too tired to deal with others, and so we don't infect them. Misanthropy for the good of the species. Of course, it can also backfire: one of the criticisms of the Eyam Hypothesis is that humans also instinctively care for each other. If my brother has a headache, I drive to the store for Advil.

Personally, I think it's a little bit of both: biological altruism. Either way, the majority live on. The first thought I had this morning when I woke up wasn't "I feel gross" it was "there's no way I'm going to work today." And while that might not be everyone's first thought, you don't even have to be a particularly altruistic person to not want to leave your home or your bed when you're sick. It's inborn.

And so when the human named Ismail comes down with a case of the interstellar common cold, his alien friend Dyos grows very concerned. Ismail is usually intensely social, almost off-puttingly so. Some crew members joke about how his quarters are for sleeping and prayer only; if he's home alone? You should be worried. But when Dyos demands an answer to the severity of Ismail's malady, the other humans just nod knowingly.

"Nah, he's okay, the medics already cleared him. It's not a severe infection."

"But there are so many...fluids. And his body has changed color."

There is a moment of confusion there until they remember that Dyos's species can see in the infrared color spectrum.

"Nah, that's just a low-grade fever. It should break in the next couple days."

"But he doesn’t want to play chess today," Dyos insists.

"Ohhhh," says human Claudia, finally understanding. "No, that's normal. Humans don't like being around other people when they're sick, it's supposed to be one of the major evolutionary advantages. Protect your community from your illness and the genes live on."

"So we're just going to leave him alone?" Dyos is troubled by this. He can go for weeks without speaking to another life form, but he has seen Ismail grow despondent when unable to participate in social gathering.

"Oh, no," human Claudia says, laughing. "We're going to employ one of the other most longstanding human evolutionary advantages."

There are many to choose from and Dyos settles on, "middle age?"

"Sort of," human Claudia opens up a small shipping container and holds up a brown paper bag tied with a colorful ribbon. It glows brightly in Dyos's vision, almost as brightly as human Claudia's smile. "His nanni's hot soup, express delivery."

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Three

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Terrible science jargon

It was almost silly how quickly the world returned to normal.

Alchemax was splashed on every local newspaper, website, social media account, and TV channel for a solid week before complaints shifted to the neverending construction on the streets of New York. The subway somehow got tighter, packed bodies grumbling about the thirty minutes added to their commute after ten subway cars had fallen through a spot and landed in the Hudson river. 

But the events never faded away from your consciousness. The only way you could fall asleep was by leaving all the lights on. It racked up your electric bill like hell, but you couldn’t stand seeing the shadows creep along the wall as nighttime descended on the city - it reminded you too much of the Spot’s blank face and how he managed to stare into your soul without eyes.

Then there was the growing problem of your forgetfulness. You’d never been the best at keeping track of belongings - Mamá always blamed it on your creative brain - but now everything was being misplaced. The alarm clock would disappear from the nightstand and appear in the kitchen, your sock collection was dwindling every day and never making it into the dirty hamper, for Christ’s sake you still hadn’t found your favorite yellow sneakers and it was irritating you to hell and back. 

I’m losing my goddamn mind. You often found yourself thinking.

You threw yourself into work, staying in the classroom late to grade and lesson plan until the night crew got used to vacuuming around your feet. You took on extra projects at the Academy, signing up to run after-school detention and volunteering for props and set design for this year’s spring musical “The Addams Family.”

Anything to stay out of your apartment. Anything to keep you from being alone.

Three empty coffee cups mocked your bleary eyes as you sat hunched over the sewing machine after hours. Cheap black lace trailed off the table, slowly shortening as you incorporated the material into Morticia’s dress.

“Fuck!” You hissed in pain and stuck your thumb in your mouth, sucking away the blood from your fourth needle prick of the night. At this rate you’d have more holes punched into you than swiss cheese.

It was time to give up for tonight.

Before you could forget you slipped the stolen Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform from your bag and hid it in the bottom-most cubby in the storage room. The sleeping bag and pillow from your apartment were also stuffed there, ready for Miles to use whenever he needed an extra break from being a superhero. You suspected Gwen had also been sneaking by to visit Miles now that she had more freedom to explore the multiverse - hence the spare uniform.

“How’s he doing?” You’d asked Miles earlier that day. Miguel’s unspoken name had lingered on the tip of your tongue, forcing the color to rise into your cheeks. Luckily Miles knew exactly who you were talking about.

A knowing grin grew on his face, “Not too bad. He seems more on edge than usual, but I hear he’s working on his temper.” 

“He’s not body slamming any more teenagers?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” You paused, “If he gives you any more trouble, send him my way. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.” 

Miles saluted you, “You got it.”

You meant it as a joke… but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

You were just about to switch the light off in your classroom when a flash of yellow caught your eye. Tucked behind a stack of newsprint, the vine charcoal rubbing away on your fingers as you carefully lifted the papers, was your prized pair of yellow converse.

It was too late to think about how they’d ended up so far from home, so you tossed them in your bag, threw out the coffee cups, and saved your muddled mind the trouble of figuring it out tonight.

The midnight subway car was filled with the usual Friday-night suspects - overworked nurses, loners just killing time, drunk party goers covered in more glitter than a kindergartener’s Valentine’s day card, and you.

You didn’t miss Richard, not really. What you really missed was coming home to someone and the feeling of another body weighing down the right side of the bed. More recently you’d been imagining what it would be like to come home to Miguel.

You kicked off your shoes at the bottom of the landing, shuffling up the steps and pulling off your clothes as you went, modesty be damned. By the time you face planted on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, it was nearing 2am and Miguel still hadn’t left your mind. He’d planted himself in your thoughts like a spider too high up on a wall for you to squash and too large for you to ignore.

Mercifully you didn’t have to endure the pains of a schoolgirl crush for very long. Sleep dragged you under and you welcomed it as your mind finally went quiet.

You awoke with a start, suffocating under the heavy blankets that you’d buried yourself in last night. You’d been dreaming again about the collider. You’d been dreaming about Miguel - this time in a feverish haze that left your mind in a puddle on the floor. 

How was it possible that a stranger could occupy so much space in your mind? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d held you like you were everything and then left without saying goodbye.

But you weren’t complete strangers…

“Aren’t you his wife?” 

Miles had asked the question so innocently and Miguel hadn’t said anything against it, so it must be true. Somewhere, in some other universe, you’d been married to one another. 

Are you thinking about me too? You wondered, opening your eyes in hopes of chasing the memory of him away.

…Maybe you were still dreaming, because the last time you checked you hadn’t fallen asleep under a tree in Central Park. And even if you had, you highly doubted you could have lugged your mattress and bed frame with you all the way from Brooklyn.

Oh por el amor de Dios.

The glorious thing about New York City is that everyone knew how to mind their own business. So when people saw a high school art teacher in Star Wars pjs leap for joy upon finding a $5 bill on the ground, they didn’t question it.

You were so ecstatic about saving yourself the two-and-a-half hour walk back to Brooklyn that you didn’t remember a highly important piece of information until after you hopped off the subway - you didn’t have your keys or your phone.

Joder. 

Your forehead knocked against the front door of your apartment building with an audible clunk.

“Por el amor de la mierda, ¿por qué mi vida es así?” You muttered under your breath. 

“Y/n?” Your landlord, Mrs. Fleming, pushed her tortoise-shell glasses higher up on her face, the thick lenses magnifying her eyes to bug-like proportions. “Oh it is you, my dear.” 

You groaned, color rushing into your cheeks as you turned around sheepishly. “Good morning, Mrs. Fleming.” 

The elderly woman gave you a once-over look, crocheting needles clicking together as she rummaged around in her bag for her keys, “The old walk of shame, I see.” 

“What?! Wait, no-this isn’t-I’m not-”

She patted you on the back before unlocking the door and holding it open for you, “I only use the turn of phrase because that’s what you young folks call it. Ain’t nothing shameful in it. It’s good of you to get out there. I never did like Richard much.”

You were at a loss for words.

Mrs. Fleming, sprightly as she was for her age, followed you up to your apartment with her extra set of keys jingling merrily in her hands.

“Now, you have a good rest of your weekend, dear.” She said once you’d been graciously let into your apartment, “And don’t forget your keys next time!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Fleming.” You said. Her amused chuckle echoed through the air as she shuffled off to her own apartment.

You sprawled out on the ground where your bed should have been, trying to even out your breathing as the reality of the morning’s events crashed down around you like a house of cards. 

This can’t be happening. ¿Qué diablos me pasa?

You rolled onto your stomach, repeatedly banging your face into a spare pillow to muffle the sound of your aggravated screams. 

The pillow accepted your frustration with little complaint until something in you just snapped. 

All at once the pillow disappeared from beneath you and then blinked into existence by the closet allowing your face to crash into the floor unprotected.

You grabbed at your burning nose, eyes swimming with tears of pain as you registered what had happened. 

“No… oh no.” 

>>>

The rain beat down irregularly, fluctuating back and forth from being barely a drizzle to a torrential downpour. 

You gripped an empty to-go cup in your hand, the tea you’d hoped would calm your nerves long gone. 

It took you three hours to make it here. First you kept teleporting your keys away every time you touched them, futilely chasing them around the apartment. Then you’d nearly gotten hit by a taxi and teleported yourself to the bathroom of a tea shop on the Upper West Side. Miraculously your powers had quieted after that, allowing you to get on the subway and here without incident.

A familiar figure made its way down the block, hood up to protect from the rain.

“Miles!” You leapt up from your seat, racing across the street to the annoyed honking of two taxis. 

“Miss Y/l/n? How’re you doing?” Miles narrowed his eyes in worry, seeing the way your fingers nervously pulled at a loose string from your sweater, “What happened to your face?” The flesh around your nose was red and tender, slowly transforming into a purple bruise.

“I’m sorry for bothering you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go.” You looked around carefully before lifting the cup in the palm of your hand.

You furrowed your brow in concentration, willing that same power within you to snap into place again.

“What’s supposed to-” 

“Just-just give me a minute.”

A minute passed, and nothing. Your heartbeat quickened as you grew more and more flustered.

“Miss Y/l/n are you sure you’re ok?” Skepticism and genuine concern laced his voice.

“I’m fine!” 

Snap!

The cup blinked out of existence like an old-school television that had been turned off. Miles saw it reappear over the park across the street and land on a dog walker’s head. The man in question looked up at the sky bewildered, like he expected to find God there.

Miles’s wide eyes met yours.

“Oh shit.” 

He pulled you into the empty alleyway behind his building, using his spider webs to straighten the trash cans that rolled around on the ground and clear out a space large enough for the two of you to comfortably stand side by side. 

He hung close to the street, Gwen’s face shimmering to life above his wrist as he spoke with his back turned to you.

“Hey, Gwen. I’ve got a situation.” He whispered into the watch.

You caught snippets of their conversation, shrinking in your coat as you tried to suppress the anxiety growing in your chest. If there was anything you’d learned about your powers it was that they tended to flare up with your emotions.

“Do you think we can trust him with this? I don’t want anything to happen to her… Yeah, yeah. No, I understand. I’ll bring her in. See you later.” 

Miles turned back to you, a strained smile on his face, “Sorry about that.”

“Miles, what’s going on?” “I got to bring you into Spidey HQ. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Miguel might.” 

He unzipped his raincoat and hoodie, exposing the black and red spider-suit beneath and tugging on his mask. 

Your heart gave a flip at the mention of your husband’s name (could you even call him that?). Would he be happy to see you again? Would things be awkward between the two of you?

A familiar watch flashed on his wrist as he began pressing buttons on the orange holographic screen. You’d seen it happen before, a portal of wild glitching colors pulsing to life in front of you, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. Miles stepped into it, dragging you along with him like he was just passing through any regular doorway.

He swept his arm outward, smiling at the expression on your face.

“Welcome to Spidey HQ, Miss Y/l/n.”

Your jaw dropped as you passed through the portal - an actual portal - to Miguel’s dimension. 

Hundreds, no thousands, of Spider-People roamed the open air halls, some on two legs, some on four, some on wheels, and some just preferred to swing through the air on webs, catching and releasing the nimble strings with practiced grace from the walkways that crossed overhead like… well like a spider’s web. 

Miguel certainly hadn’t wasted the spider concept when it came to their headquarters.

“I didn’t know there was a universe composed entirely of Spider-Men…Spider-People?… Spider…” A cat hissed at your feet when you nearly stepped on its tail as you blindly followed Miles through the crowd, “Spider-Things?” 

“Sorry Spider-Cat!” Miles said as the feline grumbled, tail high in the air as it calmly leapt onto the wall and continued on its way as though gravity were only an inconvenience. 

“Actually, every world has only one Spider-Person, but the Alchemax explosion last year ended up opening holes into other universes. Miguel created this place as a hub for Spider-People while everyone tries to fix the anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Yeah, beings that have accidentally gotten stuck in another world.”

“Oh… yeah that makes total sense..” Your words trailed off as a roaring laugh caught your attention, “Is that… is that a dinosaur?” 

You pointed at the group crowded around a cafeteria table howling with laughter. Burgers bounced on trays as the T-Rex doubled over to slap the table for dramatic effect.

“AY YO, REXA!” Miles shouted over your head, throwing his arms up wildly. 

Rexa exposed razor sharp teeth in a grin and waved one short arm towards you. You returned a meek wave in return. 

“That’s Rexa. She’s super funny. Just uh…” he covered his mouth before whispering in your ear, “Maybe don’t mention anything about her arms. She gets a little sensitive.”

“Oh…yeah, of course. No problem.” 

Miles continued to lead you through the building, periodically taking breaks for you to catch up as you kept your eyes trained on everything except the path he’d carved in front of you. At one point you simply disappeared from view, reappearing four stories up in a psychiatrist’s office.

A tweed-suited Spider-Man jumped in his seat, dropping the box of tissues he’d been preparing to throw to his client. 

“Oh! I… I’m so sorry.” You said, flustered at the sight of a sandy haired Peter Parker variant sobbing his eyes out into a spider plushie. You inched along the wall towards the door, “I’m just-I’m just going to make my way out.”

You closed the door as quietly as possible, turning around and coming face to face with Miles again. You jumped and snapped, this time landing on Rexa’s table, foot squishing her burger into roadkill.

You groaned and tilted your head up, watching Miles sail out the office window and swing his way down. 

This was going to take a while.

There was no shortage of Spiderpeople to steal your attention, but finally after a few (uninterrupted) turns down pristine white hallways and an elevator ride into the belly of Spidey HQ, it was just you and Miles again.

From his lair, Miguel traced your figure with his eyes. When you caught sight of the camera in the elevator, its red pupil narrowing in on you, you smiled sheepishly and waved. The small action made his stomach flip like a schoolboy who’d been given his first kiss. 

He needed to pull himself together before he saw you face to face again.

“I’m just saying, I think this is a good thing, Miguel.” Peter B. said, swinging up to the platform and wrapping an arm around Miguel’s broad shoulders. Mayday crawled out and onto the control board, pressing buttons haphazardly and closing half the screens. She clapped her hands in wonder and Miguel grumbled half-heartedly. 

Once she started walking, all bets were off. She’d be an absolute menace to Spider Society. Already she liked to treat Miguel like her personal playscape, crawling onto his shoulders and tugging at his brown curls. 

Her antics almost made him smile… almost.

“If she’s here then that can only mean something’s wrong.” Miguel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and ignoring Mayday as she slumped over his back, slowly sliding down his chest and into his waiting arms with a dramatic sigh. 

You looked tired and nervous, fingers tugging at the strings of your raincoat. A purple bruise spread out from your nose, moving with the curve of your cheekbones. Had someone hurt you? 

Miguel’s blood began to boil.

“Or,” Peter bumped his hips against Miguel’s, “it could mean she wants to see you again.” 

“Stop that.” Miguel growled.

“Stop what?”

Stop giving me hope.

Miguel was about to bite back at Peter and wipe the mischievous grin on his face when the doors slid open. Miles’s voice rang through the empty space. 

“These are all those anomalies I was telling you about. Doc Oc, Rhino, Sandman, Mysterio. I don’t even want to know who that is.” 

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Miguel likes to brood. I think he’s part vampire.” 

Miguel tossed Mayday into her father’s arms, swiftly turning around and busying himself at the control panel to distract from the pounding of his heart. A dozen screens flashed to life above the control board and Miguel concentrated on none of them.

Peter grinned like a madman. This was going great. 

“Miss Y/n!” He shouted out, throwing his hands in the air before hopping off the platform. Mayday squealed in delight and copied his actions. Miguel only cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. Leave it to Peter to be the cause of 90% of his headaches.

“Looking good, teach!”��

“Ummm… thanks?” You responded as Mayday grabbed at you with chubby fingers. You didn’t have much choice but to hold her as Peter thrust her into your arms. Fear jolted through you like a lightning strike and you quickly handed her off to Miles, the poor girl frowning and continuing to make grabbing motions at you. The last thing you wanted was to make Mayday disappear from your arms.

Peter tipped his head to the side but for once made no comment. He continued to chat you up, pulling small smiles from your lips and ignoring the way you kept glancing at Miguel as his platform slowly lowered to the ground. 

He had his hands on his hips, bright red and blue Spider-suit cutting a striking silhouette against the dark background. 

If he’d noticed you walking into the room, he didn’t show it and you tried your best not to deflate at that realization. 

“Don’t worry. He just likes to make an entrance,” Miles whispered in your ear. And some entrance that was. He stepped off the platform, back tight and straight as he moved forward with measured, even footsteps. 

Miles took one step forward, angling his body in front of you with a weariness in his eyes. 

Miguel stopped, face betraying nothing as he looked you up and down once.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” The words would have sounded romantic coming from someone else’s lips, but from him they just sounded dry and clinical.

“Same here.” You said. The words came out breathlessly.

“What’s happened?”

His hand hovered in the air between you two before he swiftly dropped it to his side. He wanted to reach out and touch your face. He wanted to tilt your chin upwards so he could take a good look at the damage done to your nose and make sure you were ok. Perhaps if you’d been alone he would have allowed himself to do it, but as it was, they had company. 

“We need your help, Miguel.” Miles cut through the tension, “Something’s up with Miss Y/l/n. She’s got powers now - teleportation similar to the Spot’s.” 

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Is that true?” he said, desperately looking to you for answers. The Spot’s powers had made him unstable in more ways than one and Miguel shivered to think about anything happening to you.

You nodded, “Things keep disappearing when I touch them. Sometimes I accidentally teleport to places when I’m frustrated. I didn’t realize what was going on until I woke up in Central Park last night.”

Miguel turned around, muttering under his breath as his mind raced a thousand steps ahead of him. 

Of all the people this could have happened to, it had to be you. He thought he’d done the right thing by leaving you alone, forcing himself not to portal to your dimension every night. His multiversal travels had taught him a thing or two about the ways things operated. Some figures, like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man were well represented across worlds. Some figures, like himself, were harder to come by. 

As for you? He only knew of three worlds where you existed - in one world, his actions had led to your death and the death of your daughter. In the second, Spot had murdered you in his quest to figure out Spider-Man’s identity. 

And in this one… 

Well he thought he’d been keeping you safe. 

Teleportation was a dangerous ability - unpredictable and difficult to control. Left unchecked you could find yourself in front of a car speeding down the highway or at the top of Mount Everest or in a different dimension altogether, constantly glitching as your molecules broke apa-

“Wait,” Miguel stiffened, back tightening as he swiveled around on his heels, “Where’s your watch?”

“My watch?” you glanced at your naked wrist, “I mean I usually just check my phone for the t-”

“No, your day pass watch. The thing that stabilizes you in this universe.” 

Miles’s eyes blew open. “Mierda. Sabía que había olvidado algo.”

“How long have you two been here?”

“Maybe two hours.” You guessed.

“And nothing’s happened?”

“Is something supposed to happen?” 

Even Peter B. looked concerned. Panic rose in your chest and you threatened to snap. Miguel reached out and grasped your wrist, palm sliding down until you felt the weight and warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. He led you to the med bay, Peter and Miles following closely behind.

The paper atop the padded examination table crinkled as you took a seat, watching Miguel’s broad shoulders flex and stretch as he dug an extra watch out from the back of a cabinet.

“Lyla, run a scan of Y/n.”

The woman flickered to life in front of him. “What’s the magic word?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“Lyla.” He was in no mood for games today

“Ok, ok. Don’t be testy.” Lyla appeared in front of you, an orange scanner materializing in her hands that swept across your body with a cool touch. “Scan complete.” 

“Here you go,” Miguel felt some relief pour back into his body as he fastened the watch around your wrist, hand lingering against your pulse like he wanted further confirmation that you were alive and well.

“Hey, why does she get one of the fancy ones?” Miles protested. The watch, identical to the ones worn by Miguel, Peter, and Miles flashed its face at you. It was far too elaborate and expensive to be just a day pass.

Miguel ignored him, walking over to one of the monitors and skimming through the output data.

“It took six months for Miguel to give me one of those bad boys,” The paper crinkled again as Peter hopped onto the table beside you, whispering, “Looks like someone’s got a favorite,” and earning a glare from Miguel. 

Peter winked suggestively.

Miguel scowled.

Your cheeks turned a rosy red, your coat disappearing from around your shoulders and landing in a rumple at Miguel’s feet like the world’s worst suggestive gesture. Peter howled with laughter.

“No puedo creerlo.” Miguel whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Lyla, am I looking at this right?”

“You sure are. Y/n’s DNA is perfectly stable. Not a trace of multiversal quantum poisoning to be found. And! Her radiation signature matches that of more than a thousand different universes. Bet you’ve never seen that before.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Hmmmm, let me think.” Lyla spun around in a digital office chair, waiting for her moment to break the dramatic pause. Miguel groaned - he would need to improve her code and tone down the dramatism. “Looks like packets of quantum energy from across the multiverse were released during the Alchemax hypercompact fusion explosion and merged with the only unaltered sentient lifeform in the vicinity.” 

“Dios mio.”

At the end of her explanation she bowed gracefully, arm and fur-lined coat sweeping off to the side.

“Did you get any of that?” Peter asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Peter, I took forestry as my science gen ed in art school and barely passed so… no.”

“Uhhh, can you repeat it for the rest of the class?” Miles piped up. 

Lyla leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other tipped her heart-shaped sunglasses onto her head. 

“Y/n absorbed energy from a ton of different universes so as far as the multiverse is concerned, she doesn’t register as an anomaly. No glitching. No dying outside of her universe without a watch. No predicted multiversal collapse.” Lyla smiled. “Predicted.”

You looked less than pleased. The last month had been filled to the brim with life-altering events from finding out Miles was a superhero, to getting kidnapped and nearly dying, to finding out your variant’s husband was an all-too-attractive, brooding Spider-Man. It was getting to be too much - you were a teacher for crying out loud! Maybe you’d have handled it better if you were a crime-fighting detective, or a fancy scientist, or a millionaire with access to the latest tech and weapons. Instead you were just… you.

“Can you fix it?” 

Miguel flinched at the look on your face. You were looking to him for help and for answers, but he couldn’t provide them in any satisfactory way. He’d never encountered anyone with your abilities. 

The confusion and fear that came with discovering your powers - that was a journey all Spider-People went through, and they usually went through it alone.

Miguel sighed, “There’s nothing to fix, Y/n.” He said the words with a softness no one had heard from him in years, perhaps ever, “This is who you are now.” 

“So I’m just going to be stuck like this forever?”

“Having powers isn’t so bad.” Peter chimed in with a small smile. “From time to time, it can actually be pretty awesome.”

You allowed a small, empty smile to grow on your lips. It was a smile Miguel was well acquainted with - the kind of smile that said I’m not fine, but I want you to believe that I am.

“I have some tests we could run.” Miguel offered up, “I can’t reverse what’s happened but maybe I can come up with something to help you control your powers, at least while you’re learning how to use them.” 

You nodded, the smile turning into something real, “I would like that. Thank you.” 

Peter was practically vibrating with excitement when he caught the look that passed between the two of you and the hint of hope on Miguel’s usually stony face. 

He clapped his hands down on Miles’s shoulders, “Well would you look at the time? I need to put Mayday down for her nap and grab some food. You’ll learn this soon enough, but being a superhero does burn the calories.” 

He hopped off the table, waltzing all the way to the door before he noticed that Miles was missing from his side. “Miles! Come join me.” 

“Actually, I was going to wait with-”

“Miles.” Peter coughed into his fist, bug eyes burning into Miles until he got the hint.

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sorry Miss Y/l/n, I forgot I told Gwen I’d meet up with her.” 

You waved him off, “I’ll be fine, Miles. Thanks for everything.” 

“I’ll show her how to use the watch and send her home when we’re finished.” Miguel said, pulling on a lab coat that had been draped over his office chair. He rarely had time to work in the lab, more focused on his primary duty of maintaining the stability of the multiverse, but the familiar glide of the fabric over his skin did help to relax him. It reminded him of the old days when Spider-Man didn’t exist and the multiverse was just a fun theory tossed around at company lunches. 

A thin silence stretched between you two after Miles and Peter left, and you contented yourself with watching Miguel as he busily typed away at his monitor, labeled vials, and prepared the syringes. Every movement was practiced and controlled like he’d done this a million times before.

Miguel was screaming on the inside. You were close enough for his heightened senses to pick up on the honey lemon shampoo you used tinged with the woodsy scent of linseed oil. He was powerless under your gaze like an insect trapped under a microscope.

“I just need to collect some blood samples.” Miguel said, gently holding out his hand. You offered your arm up without complaint, distracting yourself from the pinch of the needle by reading the faded name tag printed on his lab coat.

You whistled low to break the tension, “Dr. O’Hara. That’s impressive. What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a geneticist. Not the medical kind though. I worked in research at Alchemax.” 

“Is that how you got your spidey powers?”

He rolled his eyes, “They’re not spidey powers, they’re acrachno-humanoid genetic augmentations.” 

“Qué estúpido. Just call them spidey powers. You scientists just like to give things complicated names to feel superior.” The corner of Miguel’s lips quirked up every so slightly. The thrill of seeing any emotion on Miguel’s face lightened the feeling in your chest.

“Was it hard becoming Spider-Man?” You asked.

Miguel shrugged, wiping away the small bead of blood on your arm. “I had it easier than most. I was already looking into the possibility of combining human and arachnid DNA and I had the resources to study my powers.” Miguel paused. It had been a long time - too long - since he’d had a conversation like this with anyone. He could cast his mind back to talks with you his wife, but those had always been domestic in nature.

“The hardest part was not having anyone to talk to.” He said, finishing his thought.

“Sounds lonely.” You remarked, accepting the q-tip from him and swabbing the inside of your cheek. He collected the sample in a vial of greenish liquid and gave it a thorough shake, “Do you have people now that you talk to?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point. 

You’d touched a sore spot and you decided to prod it. “Would you like someone to talk to?” 

Again, the corner of his lips twitched, “Are you offering?”

You copied his shrug from earlier, “Maybe.” 

He took a few more cheek swabs and then a strand of hair. His hand lingered by your cheek, frowning as he took in the bruise on your face. 

Now that you two were alone he dared to gently tilt your head to the side.

“You never told me what happened.” 

Your hands flew up to your face in embarrassment and Miguel saw the tips of your ears grow red. He liked it.

“I may or may not have teleported my pillow away right before smashing my face into the floor.” 

The breath left his lungs in a quiet chuckle. That sounded like something you’d do.

“But no one’s bothering you?”

“What? Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that.” 

He nodded, the tightness in his chest unraveling with that knowledge. He knew you weren’t his wife and he knew that you didn’t know him well enough yet, but that didn’t stop him from caring. The truth was he liked you from the moment you slapped his shoulder and cursed at him, and it wasn’t just because you looked like someone from his past.

“This will take some time to work through.” He tilted his head towards where the tabletop machines whirred and spun, “But if I’m right, I may be able to adjust your watch to stabilize you in a specific place, not just a specific universe. It’s not a permanent fix but you won’t be waking up in Central Park again anytime soon.” 

“That would be preferable.” 

You moved to take off the watch and hand it over to Miguel but he stopped you.

“Keep this one. In case anything happens you can contact me or the other Spider-People,” He said, walking her through the steps of using the watch, “Headquarters is always open so if anything happens, come here.” 

You nodded. With an encouraging look from Miguel you punched “Earth-1610” into the locator and then your home address. 

Just like last time the portal bloomed open beside you, scattering a few loose papers on the ground. Through the portal you caught a glimpse of your living room, citylights flashing outside your window.

“Come back next week. Until we have a better understanding of your powers it would be good for us to monitor you and check that you’re stable.” 

And it would be good for you to see her again. 

Miguel squashed the thought as soon as it popped into his brain in Peter’s voice. He really needed to stop spending so much time with him. 

You stepped through the portal and were embraced by the familiar smell of your apartment. It made you feel better about what was to come. You turned to smile at Miguel, his tired eyes lighting up ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you next week then.”

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________ Author's note: Here's the next chapter! Let me know what you guys think of the writing and where the story is going. I'm hoping to dive more deeply into Y/n x Miguel's relationship in the coming chapters so get ready for angst and fluff!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake

[rvblos]

hii could you write abaut Blas being upset since he is jealous because the reader (fem!reader) is close and friendly with Matías please? Maybe an scenario where the reader and Blas had an argument before this situation :)

Sorry for my english 🧍🏽‍♀️

. ݁₊ ⊹ all alone.

˖ ࣪⭑ pairing: fem!reader x blas

˖ ࣪⭑tw: jealousy, swearing.

˖ ࣪⭑ a/n: i hope it’s what you imagined <3

"fuck it." you exclaimed as you hung up the phone. it was the 8th time you've tried to call blas, as he hadn't answered none of your texts.

you were supposed to go to a party together, along with the boys, to celebrate the ending of filming. and he was also supposed to pick you up, but he was unreachable. he couldn't have really left you in that situation, alone.

as you felt your anger taking over, you became clear again: you still had to go to the party, with or without him.

still thinking about your boyfriend's behavior, you grabbed your bag and left the apartment the two of you shared. when you got to the street, blas didn't arrive in the car, of course, and the thought alone made your blood boil. you demanded explanations, and quickly. but your mood couldn't ruin the evening. you calmed down and called a taxi. when you arrived at the party, you had to force a smile to greet everyone.

“y/n!” you heard someone shout behind you while you were talking to enzo. turning quickly with a questioning look, you looked for who had called you. in front of you came esteban, smiling at you friendly, as he approached to hug you. “hi!” you said, hugging him as well. as you parted you smiled at him “how are you, kuku?” you asked him, happy to talk with a friend. he was one of your closest ones and he was the one that basically got you and blas together, he helped you guys a lot to get along.

“i’m good, i’m waiting for juani. he’s always late.” he answered rolling his eyes, after checking the hour. it was 22:47 and not even the shadow of blas. you forced a face, trying to stay calm. where the hell was him?

“by the way, where is blas? wasn’t you guys supposed to come together?” he asked you in a concerned tone. “yeah, he’s on his way.” you lied, smiling softly. you didn’t fell like talking about how he behaved before, you didn’t want to ruin your night or esteban’s. the music was blasting into your ears, and you felt like you were going crazy with all those colored lights, but you tried to control yourself, even though you wanted to go home and sleep, trying to forget about blas.

as esteban went away, you distracted yourself a bit by talking to fran and agustin, the nicest of all. they had been making jokes for almost two hours and your belly felt sore from laughing. your eyes were filled with tears as the boys talked and joked. “so they took pipe a salad!” said fran, in a calm voice. he was talking about tat time pipe ordered a pure de papas, the thing he wanted to eat the most after filming, and they got him a salad.

you laughed so hard that you almost felt sick, as you heard someone behind you speaking “that was terrible” it was pipe. that made you laugh even harder. your hand lingered on your stomach due to the laughter. the boys laughed with you as the music pumped and people you’ve never seen kept coming into the party.

“i need some water now, i’ll be back in a min.” you excused yourself, still laughing lightly as you recovered. you arrived at the bar and asked for a glass of water. as soon as you had it in your hands, you took it thanking the bartender and went back to the boys.

but they had disappeared, they were no longer there. your gaze wandered throughout the room looking for them, but they were nowhere to be found. your friends were gone and your boyfriend wasn't there. a wave of melancholy suddenly overtook you. you were alone. what was the point of staying there?

feeling the tears in your eyes that were slowly coming out, you took your jacket, hurrying towards the exit to go home. your gaze was pointed to the ground, you didn't want anyone to see you and you weren't in the mood to explain what was going on to anyone. looking down, when you bumped into someone at first you didn't notice who you had hit, but when you looked up you found matias' face very close to yours. you looked at each other for a moment, while you searched for the words to apologize and run away, but he was faster. “y/n, what's going on?” he asked you in a worried tone, noticing your glassy eyes. you couldn't look at his face, not in that state. you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, forcing a smile. “nothing, everything is fine.” you replied to him. but it wasn't enough. you were very good friends and he knew something was wrong.

his eyes looked at you with a disappointed face. were you really trying to lie to him?

searching for the words to begin, you felt a vice on your wrist. his hand had grabbed you and was leading you across the room. you felt it tighten around your wrist as you passed through a sea of ​​people, bumping into many of them. when it was starting to feel as you had been walking for hours, matias slowed down his pace, while the street light became closer and closer. as soon as you reached the back exit of the club, matias let go of your wrist. you stopped next to him and turned to ask him "why did you do that?"

"i wanted to go out for a moment." he stopped, looking at your face. "and you seem to need some air too." he finished, taking a cigarette from his pack.

on the small door there were steps, where the boy sat down, resting. wondering what was happening and observing that scene, you stood there looking at him for a while. "sit down." he said without looking at you, patting the spot next to where he was sitting. you sat next to him as you watched the smoke coming out of his mouth. matias handed you the package, and without saying anything, you took one, lighting it.

the two of you remained silent for a while, until he spoke again, shaking you out of your thoughts. "what happened?" he finally looked at you and you could detect a note of concern in his eyes. rubbing a hand over your face, trying to sort out your words, you replied “blas pissed me off.” sighing sadly. he had never acted like this, what had come over him all of a sudden?

matias remained silent, waiting for you to continue, his gaze fixed on you. resting your elbows on your knees, you said, "he hasn't responded to my texts or calls all day."

saying those words out loud, you realized how stupid you sounded. you hadn't even thought that maybe your boyfriend might have had a dead phone, or maybe a sudden commitment had come up. but at least warn...

your anger took over, making the words rush out of your mouth "we were supposed to come here together, he should have picked me up and now we should be here, both of us. instead it's just me!" you pointed at yourself "who knows where he is. and who knows with whom!" at this point you were exasperated, you couldn't take it anymore.

matias looked at you silently, smoking his cigarette, waiting for you to continue your speech to try to understand what was happening between the two of you. calming down, you continued "it's not like him to act like this, he's never done it. i don't understand what's happening to him." sighing you finished your speech as you felt matias's eyes fixed on you. you could feel him judging you, you didn't meet his gaze, you couldn't stand it. he was surely thinking that you were overreacting, that you were crazy and that he just forgot to text you. you would have thought the same thing if you were him.

"it's actually strange that he behaved like that." he said, after a moment of silence which he had spent thinking about the right words to use so as not to say the wrong thing. "did something happen between you two before?" he asked you, throwing the finished cigarette onto the street. "no, that's the point." your hands went into your hair. "nothing like this has ever happened."

"maybe he needed some time alone." the boy on your right continued. "i respect that, absolutely, but at least he could have warned me."

"you're right..." matias said thoughtfully. "i don't know what to tell you, y/n. you've never had any problems in your relationship, i envy you for that." you laughed out loud, thinking about the mess that was going on between the two of you at that moment. "i'm not good at relationships, or even at giving advice. but i can tell you not to worry so much: blas is a very sweet guy, especially with you. i'm sure that everything that's happening between you will be resolved." he said in a sweet, reassuring tone. "relationships are also made of this."

the boy finished his speech, placing a hand on your shoulder and caressing it kindly. you turned to him, smiling softly. “don't let something like that ruin your evening.”

"i'll try." you replied, laughing ironically. "thanks, mati." you gave him a sincere smile, grateful to him for helping you. talking to him had done you good, you had managed to see things from another point of view, another perspective. "whenever you want." matias said, laughing. you laughed too, breathing deeply of the fresh night air.

you stopped for a moment to look at the street: there was no one around, not even a person. you seemed to be the only ones on the face of the earth, but the voices and the music that came from inside the club caught your ears, bringing you back to reality.

"do we want to go back?" he said, breaking the silence. "i want to stay here a little longer, you go in you want thought." you replied in a whisper. you weren't in the mood to go partying, you had a lot of things to think about.

you looked away, but he replied "that's fine" he remained where he was, making you understand that he wasn't going anywhere. "you're not coming back inside?" you asked him, feeling sorry for him. you didn't want to ruin his night, by babysitting you. "i can stay here alone, it's no problem." you smiled.

"i'm not leaving you here on your own." he replied, as a soft smile popped on his lips. you thanked him in silence, smiling as well. "can i have another cigarette?"

you two continued talking for what seemed like an eternity: matias was making you laugh so much you wanted to thank him for distracting you from your thoughts, but all that came out of your mouth was just laughter, laughter and laughter.

"so i jokingly said to him 'why don't we go and shoot this scene directly in the andes?' and jota looked at me so bad!" he laughed too, remembering that scene. you burst out laughing harder than before, almost falling down the stairs. matias was quick to catch you before you hit your face on the road, grabbing you by the hips. "oh my god." you exclaimed, catching your breath. "but how did he put up with all of you for five months?" you asked, wiping tears from your eyes. "honestly? i haven't the faintest idea."

more laughter came out of your mouths, until out of the corner of your eye you saw a car parking in front of you. when blas exited the vehicle, slamming the door behind him, there was nothing more to laugh about for you. matias on the other hand didn't seem to have noticed anything. so when he turned towards you, and seeing your serious gaze aimed at someone, he asked you "what's going on?" there was still a hint of laughter in his voice, but as soon as he saw who was coming towards you, it disappeared completely.

"hey man!" matias exclaimed to blas, who had now arrived in front of the both of you, in front of you and was looking at you with a questioning look "hello, mati" he replied, without even looking at him. his gaze was fixed on yours. "what is happening?" your boyfriend asked, a mix of anger and pure curiosity in his voice.

"i could ask you the same thing." you told him. in your gaze, however, there wasn't a hint of emotion, like in your voice. "i'm gonna go." matias said, sensing the tension in the air. so he returned to the club, disappearing among all those people. you two didn't even notice, you were so intent looking at each other.

"do you have to say anything?" you asked him, your patience was slowly leaving you. "i owe you an apology, i'm sorry." he said, hands in pockets and looking at his shoes. that was all?

"what happened to you? you completely disappeared." you continued, that wasn't enough. "i was at a casting, i forgot my phone somewhere. that's why i didn't call or text you. i arrived late because i didn't even know the location, pipe sent it to me half an hour ago." he sat down next to you, and a wave of his scent slapped you.

but you couldn't give in so easily, not right away. you continued with the questions "you didn't tell me. you were supposed to pick me up, blas. i had to take a taxi to get here." your tone was whiny and angry at the same time, while his was softening. "i'm sorry, it must have slipped my mind." you could sense from his voice that he was truly sorry for leaving you in that situation, alone. "can you forgive me?" he asked you with a pleading look, as the wind caressed his curls.

"don't ever do that again, blas." his hand took yours, squeezing it gently. "i promised i won't." he said as he placed a sweet kiss on the exposed skin on your neck, making you shiver. you finally gave in at his touch.

as he parted from your neck, he asked you "by the way, what was matias doing here with you before?" his tone was concerned as he spoke with a lower voice. "nothing, we were just talking." you answered calmly. he mumbled under his breath, not convinced in the answer that you just gave him. "why do you ask?" "he took you by your waist, y/n." he said, torturing his long fingers. he saw that scene.

"it's nothing to worry about blas, really." he was jealous, matias was one of your closest friends and you loved him, but not in that way.

he snorted, looking away. he didn't believe you, maybe? "i didn't really like what he did..." he said softly. blas wasn't very good at expressing his feelings due to his shyness, but with you there had never been any problems like this, so it was strange. "blas, we're just friends. nothing else." you took his hand in yours, trying to reassure him. he pouted as he stared at the road, unable to face your gaze.

“you’re cute…” you told him at the sight, leaning forward to see his face, smiling lovingly. "i'm not cute, i'm pissed off at matias..." he said nervously, blushing at the sudden compliment, looking away so you wouldn't see him. "no, you're cute." you grabbed his face with one hand, and he turned towards you. a pink hue flushed his cheeks as the stars in his eyes grew closer and closer to you.

"especially when you're jealous." as you said this you brought your face closer to his, causing your lips to collide. you immediately felt his hands wander all over you: your hair, your back, your arms, your thighs. they finally rested on the back of your neck, as he tugged you deeper into the kiss. your fingers caressed his curls softly.

you smiled on his lips as he leaned over to you, kissing you all over your face.

he had always been the same.

nothing would ever changed between the two of you.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 11] New Year's Eve

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Spending a week alone is not something that you usually mind, but this time you actually feel sad as you spend the time alone. When you start to forget about your loneliness, you look at the charm bracelet that Toji gave you– And when it’s not that, it’s the stuffed bear that’s in your room. You just wish that you could spend time with them, especially this time of the year. You try not to sit in your room and dwell, but it feels impossible.

Everyone around you has someone else, and it’s a reminder of how lonely you are now. For the first time, you don’t have Kento with you, even if last year he was sick. Sadly you can’t escape going out because you still have to work. You luckily have some days off, but you still don’t escape going outside. You try your best to avoid going out.

You only go out when you absolutely need to, at least for the first five days that they’re gone. When the peak of the holidays passes, you go out without a problem. 

You’re out for dinner, getting something hot to warm you up. Since you’re not taking care of little Megumi, you find yourself with a lot of free time, and now you have no idea what to do with it. You try to recall what you did before taking care of Megumi, but it’s hard. Even during the week that you weren’t talking to Toji, you had no idea what to do.

So you’re taking advantage of this rare opportunity and going out to eat. You have a couple of drinks, order food until you’re stuffed, and when you’re all done, you pay and walk out of the restaurant. But life is never so simple. 

You walk past someone that you can’t easily ignore– Having white hair at such a young age isn’t exactly too common. What’s weirder about him, is that it’s his natural hair color. You try to walk past him as if you don’t know him, but he notices you and he grabs your arm, stopping you from walking further. He says your name and you’re forced to look back at him.

“Can I help you, sir?” You ask, hoping that he’ll drop whatever he has to say if you treat him like a complete stranger. Satoru isn’t one that drops a subject so easily, and he wants to talk to you, so he’s not going away until he talks to you.

“Are you leaving already?” He responds with a question that has an obvious answer since you were talking in opposite directions. You don’t say anything since the answer is pretty clear, and when you stare at each other for a minute, a sigh leaves his lips, “Can we talk?”

“Is there something more to talk about?” You reply, and he furrows his brows. Before he can mutter a word, you speak again, “I’m sorry, Gojo. I’m just really confused as to what you’re doing here. You live nearly an hour away, and you can certainly afford to eat at much nicer places… What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Can’t I get food here?” He’s defensive. You shake your head, and your fingers manage to take off each individual finger that holds your arm until you’re finally free from his grasp.

“Not when you live so far away. Have a good night, Gojo, I hope to never bump into you again.” You walk away, and you know it’d take a minute or two before he chases after you, so you sprint away, until you know that you’re out of sight. 

Luckily that’s the only time that you bump into Satoru during your time alone. And as much as you’d pay attention to him, the only man that you’re currently thinking of is Toji. Toji is slowly consuming your mind, and you hate to admit that you love it. Thinking about Toji brings a smile to your face, and you almost feel guilty because your husband hasn’t been dead for a year. But you can’t dwell on Kento forever.

Maybe you are moving on a little bit too fast, but you’re not putting everything on hold for a year. You’re starting to forget the fact that you didn’t want a relationship because as you think about Toji, the thing you want the most is a relationship. Your opinion has certainly changed.

There’s a knock on your door near noon, and since it’s New Year’s Eve, you have nowhere to go. You went to sleep pretty late the previous night, staying up to binge watch a TV show. You don’t even realize how late it is, walking straight to the door after being awakened by the knocking. When you open it, the biggest smile comes to your face.

“Megumi!” You exclaim, looking down at the little boy who holds a bouquet of flowers that’s almost bigger than him. You take it from his hands, and toss it on the kitchen counter before picking Megumi up from the floor. You kiss his cheek, and ruffle his hair, “How are you, baby? How was it?”

“It was good!” He responds. Your eyes then shift from Megumi to Toji. He’s awkwardly standing, his hands in his pockets, and it causes your face to get warm. He’s looking so fucking cute. Cute isn’t the word that describes Toji very well, but it’s the only word that runs through your mind.

“Please come in, I’m going to change real quick.” You say with a smile on your face. You put Megumi on the ground and run to get some clothes before locking yourself in the bathroom.

Megumi begins to walk around the apartment, and when he spots the giant bear in the corner of the room, he runs to it to hug it. Toji watches and furrows his brows, “What are you doing?”

“It’s soft.” The little boy says, putting his head on the bear. Toji’s smiling as he watches the kid, and he really is her son. Toji would’ve never done this as a child, or maybe he would’ve if he had different parents. He really can’t say.

“It’s nice to see you two again, didn’t expect you to be back so soon.” You tell them as you walk out of the bathroom. You find Megumi with his arms wrapped around your stuffed animal which causes you to chuckle. You really can’t tear your eyes away from the adorable sight.

“Uh… I have to go back to work.” Toji answers, and you furrow your brows.

“Your night job?” You ask him, and Toji nods his head. You tilt your head before asking, “Which is…?”

There’s no response. In fact, he tries to change the subject, “Megumi, stop hugging the bear.”

“But it’s soft.” Megumi argues, and even though Toji wants to laugh, he doesn’t want to focus to shift back to your question. Megumi ends up pulling away and then looking at his father. The bear reminds him of his birthday, and Megumi curiously asks, “When’s my birthday again?”

“Oh, it’s very far away, Megumi. Don’t even start thinking about it.” Toji answers, and the boy pouts his lips. You smile and walk over to him, ruffling his hair which further messes it up. Toji chuckles before commenting, “You love messing up his hair.”

“It’s always a little messy. Isn’t that right, sea urchin?” You watch as Megumi furrows his brows, unsure of what you mean. You then look at Toji and you ask, “When’s your birthday?”

“My birthday?” Toji seems a bit taken back by the question. He bites down on his lips before clearing his throat and answering, “Today.”

“Is it really?” You ask with a laugh, you’re almost one hundred percent sure that he’s messing with you. He scratches his neck before he nods in response causing your eyes to widen. “Toji! You should’ve said something!”

“What for?” Toji responds, and you walk over to him to hug him. He isn’t too sure how to react when he feels your arms wrap around him, but he eventually gives in and hugs you back. “I didn’t have to say anything.”

“Yes you did! We have to celebrate!” You respond, pulling away from the hug and you notice how his cheeks grow pink. You two stare at one another for a moment before you say, “Happy birthday, Toji.”

“Happy– I mean, thank you.” He answers. God, he fucking hates this. He feels as if he’s stuck in a trance, unable to look away. Toji felt like this once in his life before and he fucking hates this feeling. He’s a tough man– He has to repeat it in his head over and over again. He’s not a puny little bitch that blushes and stutters when a pretty woman wishes him a happy birthday.

“Happy birthday, daddy!” Megumi breaks him out, wrapping his arms around his dad’s leg. He wants to be included in a hug, he doesn’t care too much about his father’s birthday. Toji picks up Megumi from the floor and kisses his cheek.

“Thank you, sea urchin.” Toji says, looking back at you. “You’re right, he does look like a sea urchin.”

“Should we do something to celebrate?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him a sweet smile; one that makes him weak in the knees. 

“I have to work tonight… Actually, could you babysit tonight?” Toji questions, and while you gruff and puff about it because he ignored your question, you end up humming in response. It’s his birthday so you’ll be as nice as you possibly can be. Maybe tomorrow when he repeats the same question, you’ll be able to be more mad at him. “You’re the best.”

“I know I am.” You respond. Your eyes then fall to the flowers that he bought for you. Your lips go up to his cheek and you sweetly tell him, “Thank you for the flowers, Toji.”

“I picked them!” Megumi claims, and you laugh. You also kiss Megumi’s cheek.

“Thank you for the flowers, Megumi.”

“Are you sleepy, Megumi?” You ask, and even though he’s falling asleep, he shakes his head. Toji went off to work, and since you didn’t have many plans, you’re now on your bed, watching New Year’s TV with Megumi, who sits on the floor. The entire day was spent by Toji unpacking and trying to do chores while Megumi did– Whatever the hell Megumi wanted to do. You tried to help out but Megumi insisted that you had nothing to do, so you didn’t. 

“Not sleepy.” He assures you, even though his head is falling. You yawn, sleepy just like him. If it weren’t for the fact that Megumi insists on staying awake, you’d shut off the TV and go to sleep. Even though you woke up late, you’re more tired than ever. 

You wonder when Toji’s going to get here. The cat is out of the bag and he’s admitted that he isn’t fixing cars up so late (which doesn’t really surprise you if you’re being honest). You try to figure out what his job is but it’s certainly hard to figure out since there’s a vast sea of options. Maybe he did lie to you and he’s going on dates, but you try to remain hopeful that Toji is honest with you. You also don’t like to admit the fact that the thought of Toji going on dates sends you over the edge.

While thinking about Toji you hear a light thud sound, and you look down to find Megumi’s head on the floor. You laugh, hearing the light snoring from the kid. You pick him up from the floor and put him on your bed, throwing a blanket over him. You take his previous spot, allowing him to take up the whole entire bed. Your eyelids feel heavy, and you feel as if the same thing that happened to Megumi, will happen to you. At the very least, you want to be awake when Toji gets back. 

You’re not even old but you feel ancient because staying up till midnight is one of the hardest tasks you’ve done in a while. It feels absurd knowing that the previous night you stayed up without a problem. Maybe there’s just something in the air tonight– Maybe you’ve been thinking too much about Toji and he’s been using up all your energy. You won’t know, you just know that your eyes are shutting.

Until there’s a knock on your door that makes you shoot your eyes open. You stand up and rush to open the door. You see Toji, and this time he didn’t try to change out of his clothes like he usually does. Maybe he’s a waiter or something of that sort and he’s ashamed. 

“He’s asleep.” You tell him, and he walks inside to pick up Megumi and take him back to his apartment. “How was work?”

“Exhausting.” He answers, and he keeps it brief. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to wake up the sleeping child, or he simply isn’t in the mood to talk. You don’t mind, after all, you’re sleepy. Toji walks out the door without muttering a single word, and you can’t lie and say that you weren’t offended by it. You shut the door and walk back to your bed, and just as you’re about to lay down, there’s a knock on the door again.

You open it to find Toji again. You stare at each other for a moment, and maybe it’s just your tired eyes deceiving you, but he appears to be trembling. His hands finally cup your face, his eyes looking deeply into yours for a moment, and it causes your heart to skip a beat. His face inches closer, and when his lips are mere centimeters away from yours, he mutters, “I’ve been kicking myself for not spending the night with you and my son.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. We can celebrate tomorrow.” His cold lips finally land on yours. Your lips warm him up, and he can’t seem to pull away. He wants to deepen the kiss, to go one step further but he’s too tired. Maybe he’d just like to cuddle but he can’t do that either. You close your eyes, fully surrendering to the kiss, your hands meeting behind his neck and pulling his head to you. 

You swear you hear fireworks– Which knocks you back into reality. Toji ends up pulling away, and when your lips are parted, you peck him again. You smile at Toji, “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year.” He responds. Your whole body is hot which is odd considering the extreme coldness of the outside. He lets go of you, and while he wants to go in, he holds himself back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Toji.” You tell him, and he mindlessly nods. You expect him to walk away but instead he awkwardly stands there. You wave at him as you shut the door.

There’s a big smile on your face as you walk back to your bed, and it makes you realize you really like Toji.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

How NoirPunk Meets - Hobie Brown x Noir!Peter Parker Headcanons

a/n: listen okay these two just hear me out- just listen i swear these two are perfect for each other on god i promise just trust me

also i be calling noir peter if thats okay i dont really see that much

—————————————————

So let's just be honest they're a large part of why the other sticks around in the society, and I wouldn't be surprised if -

Hobie was the one that finally got Noir!Peter to join

I really like the idea that Hobie was the thing that convinced him to join.

I mean, Peter has his own shit going on, he's not just fighting Goblin and the usual villains - he's actively trying to stop a fascist regime and thought system.

I could absolutely see the society approaching him multiple times, and Peter just declining. He's the brooding type to work alone, and (aside from learning about color), it wouldn't be surprised if he was just uncomfortable with this whole 'secret society of superhumans that controls the flow of history' thing...because, y'know

So as a last ditch effort, Miguel and Jess ask Lyla whose left and who's algorithmically their best bet at recruiting him

And Lyla is like '..You know who ;) '

Miguel is like 'Jesus Christ anyone but him' - because they barely send Hobie on missions for a reason!! He's a huge wildcard

and convincing Hobie to recruit someone else is a whole different story for another time

Hobie went to Peter's universe already planning to have him as an ally

It was only after they debriefed him on Spider-Noir and what he does that Hobie agreed

Even from his case file - which Hobie thinks it's creepy they have that but whatever - Hobie admired him and his activism

SO much of world theory and social understanding developed from the thirties onward, so already he'd feel a connection and understanding, being almost impressed by Noir

And despite what he lets on to Miguel, Hobie is smart and informed as fuck, and from his large knowledge of world history, so he already knew what he was getting into

But the first time he stepped into Noir's universe it was like turning the world on its head

It really shocked Hobie, which is pretty hard to do

It was like going from the world's loudest room to dead silence. It's a kind of serenity that kind of puts Hobie at ease. The rain, the darkness, the quiet, all that

Which is why Peter comes home one night to Hobie just chilling in his apartment like it's nothing

He's just laid out on the couch like 'Oh great, for a second I thought The Man was going to have you working all night.'

And like COME ONNNN could you imagine from Peter's POV

Working literally all night, tired as hell, coming home to the dark of his apartment with the rain outside, and he just finds Hobie, vibrant and pink on his couch, his color the only thing in the room

Usually Peter turned away all the others from the society, but he felt like Hobie might be different

So he let him stay, and offered to hear him out

But what's supposed to be a recruitment pitch turns into hours of Hobie and Peter at Peter's kitchen table, shooting the shit and talking about anything

Peter makes them some coffee as Hobie looks over Peter's book collection, smiling at the ones filled with Peter's notes and thoughts in the margins

Peter is almost taken a back, because Hobie is so bold and out there and worldly

He's surprised to meet someone actually interested in justice - real, actual justice - and equality. Someone whose ready to talk about it so openly and say 'hey fuck this amiright'

It's SO refreshing to Peter

He's impressed that Hobie has all of this vocabulary, describing complex ideals that were still being formed and whispered about in 1933.

In a universe full of rain and shadows and shades of grey, meeting Hobie is like falling into an oil painting for Peter. He's full of color and humor and ease and confidence - his humor is scathing and honest, and Hobie's the first one to make Peter laugh at a joke about anti-capitalism

The first night they meet they kinda just get lost in each other

And UHHHH yeah they keep going

Hobie comes back the first night and tells Miguel that he's 'still staking Noir out', not telling him they've actually met

And for the next four nights, Hobie came over to Noir's place, just to see him, and talk

Peter knows why Hobie's there, and Hobie isn't trying to hide it. In the beginning he tells Noir straight up that he's here for recruitment, that he thinks it's bullshit, and that eventually he's going to do something about it

But he asks Noir to join because, yeah, Hobie likes him a lot, and he wants to see him more. And he thinks he'd be one of the most valuable allies to have, ever.

Noir is literally his comrade.

And Noir agrees (, but he probably will have some terms and conditions to take up with Miguel later, like the kind of missions he will do, the amount of time he can and can't spend away from his dimension, etc)

But for the next four nights, they spend it just with each other, learning each other and trading ideas, drinking coffee in Peter's apartment and listening to vinyls

And they just make each other so soft

Sometimes, Hobie brings papers from his world to show Peter

The third time he visits, Hobie brings him a stack of zines - colorful little booklets full of collages and bold ink

On some nights, Hobie reads over Peter's first drafts at his kitchen table, watching Peter make coffee on the stove, the old-fashioned way

People at the Bugle start to notice that even if it's subtle, Peter seems more at ease and easygoing, and he has DOZENS of new, forward thinking ideas in his writing that he's excited about

Meanwhile Hobie's been in a great mood (which Miguel hates cause he's a hater like that)

He asks Hobie for a status report, and Hobie smuggly tells him that the missions accomplished

And Lyla is grinning her little ass off because OF COURSE she knew that algorithmically they're romantically compatible

(And YES Lyla sets up mission teams based on her own little matchmaker algorithm without Miguel's permission because she thinks its funny)

From then on Noir requests he either be assigned solo missions or missions with Hobie

And they go around HQ calling each other their 'partner' and neither refuses to elaborate any further

Mission partner? Dating partner? Partner-in-crime? ALL THREE.

__________

im obsessed with these geniuses. look at what they've done to me (and by they I mean myself I've done this to myself)

hi thxs for reading also this was not proofread so if you see a typo my adhd says no you didnt

[goldstargloww]

canary curse things. thinking about canary curse things

i'm hesitant to say the canary curse has been broken—what, no, of course it has been, jimmy died second instead of first, and the canary curse is all about dying first— okay hear me out i swear i make sense

my thought is that patterns can change. patterns aren't always static ones. just because something new happened this time around doesn't mean the pattern's been broken, it may have just changed its rules a bit.

joel had a pattern of having no true allies up until double or limited life, where it instead became a pattern of being isolated, for example

now, before we get into the canary curse specifically, let's talk about some other patterns

scott and martyn tend to drag themselves as well as their allies up the leaderboard. they both tend to outlive their allies. grian tends to kill his allies. ...i feel like i should put more here but that's all i can think of right now

now, the way i see it, is scott, martyn, and jimmy in particular all have some sort of weight to them. positive meaning they drag themselves and their allies up the leaderboard, negative meaning the opposite. scott and martyn have a positive weight, whereas jimmy has a negative one.

what i think's happened here is that martyn and jimmy's weights have tugged on each other, and as a result, martyn turned yellow and red first instead of much later on, and jimmy died second instead of first.

jimmy's pull is strong, i think, and so he tends to die first every time. just because he tends to die first every time doesn't make that a rule, though - it just makes it a pattern, one that's been broken. the pattern that hasn't been broken, though, is jimmy being one of the earliest to die, and jimmy dragging his allies down the leaderboard with him.

jimmy died first in 3rd life, and dragged scott down to 10th, and scott finally turned yellow right before jimmy died. jimmy died first in last life, and dragged mumbo down with him, and they were a similar color pretty much the whole time. jimmy died first in double life, and dragged tango down with him. jimmy died first in limited life, and joel died quickly after. jimmy died second in secret life, and dragged martyn's color down with him.

martyn, though, doesn't die yet, because of his positive weight. he's often tugged further up the leaderboard, and so while jimmy may drag his color down and martyn ends up first yellow and red, martyn still manages to stay afloat.

martyn is stubborn is the thing, lmao. he stays alive out of spite and just because he wants to, and so he does, and he makes sure he does. now that the stakes are higher and one wrong move could mean losing everything, he's being a lot more careful than he was earlier on.

and let me just reiterate for a second - he's stubborn. once he's got an idea, he's locked onto that idea until he gets it done or literally can't anymore. martyn will drive himself up the wall before he gives up on something and even then he'll need convincing or more likely a distraction. he didn't give up on ren in third life til he died and couldn't do anything anymore. he didn't give up on trying to kill scott in last life til he died and couldn't do anything anymore. he didn't give up on getting a diamond chestplate in secret life until he got it despite how much it cost him in the end. outside the life series, even, i'm rewatching rats right now- martyn will try to climb a wall over and over and over until he gets it or something gets in the way. he'll be texturing a model and complain to chat about how painful it is and still decide to spend the next hour and a half getting the damn thing done even though he should've logged off for bedtime 2 hours ago. (yes martyn i am calling you out, enjoy)

and so martyn doesn't die! he's yellow first, he's red first, and all other red names die, but martyn doesn't. because yeah, maybe he's impulsive, but he's in this for himself and himself alone and there's no way in hell he's dealing with a wither and a warden that's just killed three people. (he did try and steal the kill though. martyn do you remember what happened last time you tried to steal the kill, you fell into the void and died)

jimmy isn't as stubborn. jimmy's a lot more forgiving, a lot more lenient, and as much as he's being more aggressive this season, he's reckless about it and impulsive and his reputation isn't helping him here.

jimmy lets things happen to him. as upset as he might act about it, he never actually does anything about it, and it gets him killed. he's afraid to break the rules, he's afraid to make people uncomfortable or upset or hurt, he starts genuinely tearing up at the thought of pulling a bait and switch on skizz, and that's the kind of thing martyn does on a daily basis lmao

jimmy is forgiving and passive, martyn and scott don't forget so easily and aren't afraid to make people upset, grian's somewhere in between.

[forever1kay]

POWER TRIP !!

Summary: When Miles is forced on a vacation with his mother and a bunch of people from his mom’s past, he expects to be miserable the entire time. But little does he know, you’re lots of fun to be around…

Pairing: Earth 42 Miles x Fem!Black!Reader (Both are 17)

Notes: My friend did not have time to translate for me so I had to take matters into my own hands and use SpanishDict and DeepL. If the translations are shit, please correct me in the comments. I’d really appreciate it. Also, If I mentioned anything about Miles’ hair being in a low ponytail or a bun, I meant what I said. He reminds me of Latrelle from on my block so his hair is very versatile in my mind💀 With that being said, I hope you all enjoy!

Warning(s): Implied Grumpy x Sunshine trope, profanity of course, Rio is definitely an instigator (she means well), Miles is annoyed for majority of the story, rushed relationship, Y/n’s dad is annoying, teenagers in love (you wish that was you huh?) Let me know if I forgot anything!!

When Miles’ mother bursts into his room, speaking in frantic Spanglish about how Miles needs to pack a bag, he has to stop and look at the expression on her face to realize nothing is wrong and he doesn’t need to kill anyone tonight.

His mother tells him that a few of her closest friends from high school had found her Facebook and wanted to meet up, and he couldn’t stay home alone after that stunt he pulled last week when she had to work extra hours at the hospital. And not only did he have to go, but he had to bring his younger cousin Dillon as well so his uncle Aaron could “handle some business.”

Miles just sighed, knowing he couldn’t argue with his mother and began to pack his bags. Three days later, him, Dillon, and his mother had landed in Orlando and were standing in the lobby of an overly colorful hotel. As his mother was checking in, Miles realized he’d rather be anywhere else.

After receiving their right room numbers, the three of them walked to their rooms to settle in before returning to the lobby, where all hell broke loose.

His mother had made the decision to scream and approach two other women who were also screaming. Miles could only shake his head and wish to go home. He thought about escape routes, ride arrangements, and even the possibility of staying at Uncle Aaron's house.

However, his inner thoughts were interrupted as his face was forced into someone's chest.

“Lil’ man!” A random chubby man yelled, his hand tangled into Miles curly ponytail. “You was this big last time I seen you! You done grew some! How old you is?”

“I’m seventeen.” Miles said, his voice muffled by the guy’s chest.

“Seventeen! Damn, how time flies by. You remember me?”

“Nah.” Miles said curtly.

“Miles.” His mother started, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t, ma. ¿Querías que mintiera?”

“Watch the attitude, Miles.” She said, thumping him on the forehead before embracing the strange man and the two screaming women. “These are my friends from high school. Michael, Linda, and Nicole.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dillon and Miles said in unison.

Linda grabbed Michael’s hand before gesturing to the children behind her. “These are our kids; Y/n and Jacob.”

Nicole then joined in. “And these are my sons, Jonny and Tito.”

Miles looks to each kid as they’re being introduced, but he lets his eyes linger on Y/n a little longer until Tito spoke.

“En realidad, mi nombre es Salvador. No Tito. I don’t know why they still call me that.”

Miles chuckles. “I feel you.”

“So how old are you all now?” Miles’ mother asks, squeezing her friends’ children into a hug.

The kids all name their age, and Rio gets excited immediately.

“Y/n and Miles you’re the same age! And Jacob you’re the same age as Dillon! You can all be such great friends. ¡Qué amoroso!”

The adults talk about their kids closeness in age for a second before Rio opens her mouth again.

“Papá, sé amable y ayúdala con sus maletas.”

“No necesita mi ayuda, mami.”

“Miles.”

“Vale, vale…”

“Y/n!” Rio yelled excitedly, gaining your attention. “Miles will help you with your bags.”

You waved your hands and shook your head frantically. “Oh, Mrs. Morales it’s okay! My dad can-“

“Oh don’t worry about him, I insist! Go, Miles.”

Miles sighs as silently as he can and then grabs all four of Y/n’s bags effortlessly, looking at her to lead the way to her room.

“Come back quickly!” Michael yelled, fixing his voice to make it sound deeper than it already was. “Put the bags down and that’s all.”

“Okay, dad. Chill.”

Y/n and Miles walk in silence, never speaking a word to each other although Y/n's stare spoke volumes.

They return to the lobby mostly silently after setting the bags down, with Y/n opening and closing her mouth a few times but never really managing to say anything but “do you like bread?” Which earned her a side eye from Miles.

When they got back, Jonny told them what the adults had decided.

“We’re going to Disney springs.”

Together with a few other hotel guests, the ten of them boarded the Disney shuttle bus and left.

When they got there, the adults made the decision to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to determine where they would all have dinner tonight. Nicole won and decided to let the kids choose.

Michael made an attempt to bribe them into choosing the T-Rex Café, but they all side eyed him and chose Planet Hollywood.

When they arrived, a makeshift red carpet led up to the entryway. Somewhere in the middle, one of the employees offered to take a group photo of them.

Miles took three pictures, two of them courtesy of his mother who insisted they were pictures he should be taking.

One as a group, one with his mother, himself, and Dillon, and one with Y/n.

Both were a little awkward. The former had Rio kissing Miles on the face and pinching Dillon's cheek in public, while the latter… was an interesting thing to talk about.

After taking a picture with his mother and cousin, Miles was about to walk away when Mom stopped him and said

“Y/n! Would you like to take a picture with Miles?”

Miles was so shocked that he couldn’t speak, and Y/n would have dropped her phone had it not been for Jacob's fast reflexes.

“O-oh, no Mrs. Morales, he doesn’t even want to take a picture and I myself am so of tired of pictures, you know, with the flash and everything.”

“Girl don’t play with me.” Linda spoke, inserting herself into their conversation. “You’re a model. You do this for a living. Just take a quick picture with Miles and we can go.”

“Baby she don’t need to take a picture with no boys.” Michael whined, turning his wife to face him.

“You know he’s a good kid, Mike. He’s Rio’s son.”

Y/n's parents continued to argue as she nervously walked over to Miles on the carpet while Rio and the photographer instructed them to smile.

Although Miles didn't smile, he calmly wrapped his arm around Y/n, who jumped at the touch and stared up at him in shock.

“Smile for me, ángel.” Miles spoke lowly enough for only Y/n to hear, meeting her eyes and smirking.

After taking the photo, the photographer gave it to Rio and instructed them to enter the restaurant. Miles walked away from Y/n without another word.

After that awkward fiasco, the group entered the restaurant and were immediately welcomed and seated. Y/n ultimately found herself seated next to Miles, and she could not stop worrying about whether or not her chewing would be too loud. But instead of thinking in her head like normal people, Y/n muttered under her breath, a lot like Deku from My Hero Academia (ifykyk).

Miles noticed and chuckled to himself.

A server took their order a little while later, and a short while after that, they left to look around at the movie props and film scripts around the restaurant.

Later that night, the adults left their kids some money and went on a hot air balloon ride. Since Miles already had money of his own, he gave Dillon the borrowed money and then walked away alone.

Well, at least he thought he was alone.

When he realized he wasn’t, he nearly backhanded the intruder, but they were quicker than he'd thought and caught his wrist.

“Um, okay. Wow. I definitely could’ve died.” Y/n spoke, dropping Miles’ wrist.

“My bad.” Miles spoke, looking her up and down. “Why didn’t you go with everyone else? They need someone to watch after them.”

“Trust me, they don’t. Salvador is very responsible.” She informed him. “Besides, how do you know I’m responsible enough to watch over them?”

Miles shrugged and moved away from Y/n to lean onto the only railing that separates them from the water. "I don't."

Y/n chuckled and then followed him, leaning against the same railing but facing Miles.

Miles gave her a stank face. “I actually came over here to remove myself from you…”

Y/n shrugs. “You intrigue me.”

“Yeah?” Y/n nods. “How so?”

“Well I don’t know.” Y/n shrugs, “In my experience, silent people are the most interesting.”

“Or the most deadly, depends on who you know.”

“Cmon, drop the hood nigga persona and let’s be besties for the rest of this trip.”

“Nah.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Miles rolls his eyes. “You are something else.”

“I know, you’ll get used to it eventually. Three months top.”

“You said for the rest of this trip.”

“Well obviously I lied.”

“She lied. Of course she did.” Miles spoke to himself. “We can’t just be civil and be quiet?”

“No, we have to be besties. It’s the only way or else I’ll cry and your mom will let my dad beat you up.”

“He can try, but I can fight.”

“Please!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“No.”

“Come onnnnn!!”

“No.”

“Miles!”

“Okay, mama. Okay. I’ll be your Bestie for the rest of the trip.”

“You won’t regret it! Okay, now let’s go have fun!”

Surprisingly, Miles let Y/n to lead him aimlessly around Disney Springs until they left. The following few days, he allowed her to continue dragging him around.

When it came time for everyone to return home, Y/n's family made the decision to take drop everyone else off at the airport (since the four of them actually lived in Florida and didn't need to leave the state).

This time, Y/n was the one insisting something. That something being walking them into the airport while Rio insisted that it was fine.

Y/n won, which meant her dad had also decided to walk them in just “to make sure Y/n won’t get lost.”

“So,” Y/n started, linking her pinky with Miles who surprisingly enough didn’t seem to have a problem with it, “How was it to be my Bestie for a week?”

Miles chuckled. “You’re not all that bad.”

“I’m not all that bad? Don’t you mean it was the best experience of your life and you can’t wait to see me again?”

“Nah, I ain’t say all that.”

“But you meant it. It’s okay to admit that I’m super funny and cool and pretty and you absolutely love me.”

Miles chuckled again, which was out of character for him.

Rio checked the time and spoke up

"Miles, dile adiós. Tenemos que irnos. Te esperaré allí.”

Miles nods and turns to face Y/n, but Rio quickly pushes him aside and embraces the girl.

“It was so nice to see you again, hermosa! We’ll have to keep better contact so we can see you and your family again, okay?”

“Okay, Mrs Morales! It was so nice to meet you in person and I really enjoyed your company this weekend. You’re so sweet!”

“No, you’re so sweet! Much love to you sweetie, we’ll plan something soon.” She kisses you on the cheek before pulling your father out of the way so you and Miles can have a moment.

“So,” Miles turns to you, but gets interrupted by you throwing your arms around him.

“I’m gonna miss you, bestie!”

Miles smiles down at her, finally wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’m gonna miss you too, mama.”

“See, I knew you loved me.”

Miles' eyesight travels from her lips to her eyes and back again. Naturally, Y/n can't keep quiet.

“You look like you want to kiss me.”

“Quiero besarte.”

“Do it, no balls.”

Miles chuckles before kissing Y/n twice on the lips and trying to lean in once again, but of course both of their parents broke up them up by clapping and raising their voices in protest.

Yet again, Y/n can’t keep quiet.

She looks up at Miles with hearts in her eyes. “…you taste like strawberries and rainbows.”

Miles rolls his eyes before pecking Y/n's lips once more, prompting yet another outburst from their parents.

"Cálmate, mami. Please!” Miles whined while Y/n shook her head at her father with wide eyes.

Y/n grinned as she pulled away from Miles and pulled her phone from her back pocket. “I don't have your number.

Miles took her phone and swiftly entered his number before handing it back to her and holding her hands in his, gently moving backward as he does so. "Let’s keep in touch, yeah?"

Y/n nods, saying bye to Miles as he pulls away and walks over to his mom, of course waving a goodbye to Y/n’s dad as well.

BONUS:

When he got home later and took his phone off of airplane mode, Miles felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a text from an unknown number who he could only assume was you..

Translations (may be inaccurate or in Spain Spanish btw, so please correct me if needed):

¿Querías que mintiera? - Did you want me to lie?

En realidad, mi nombre es Salvador. No Tito. - Actually, my name is Salvador. Not Tito.

¡Qué amoroso! - How sweet!

Sé amable y ayúdala con sus maletas - be kind and help her with her bags.

No necesita mi ayuda, mami. - She doesn’t need my help, mommy.

Vale, vale… - Okay, okay…

Miles, dile adiós. Tenemos que irnos. Te esperaré allí. - Miles, say goodbye. We have to go. I’ll wait for you over there.

Quiero besarte. - I want to kiss you.

Cálmate, mami - Calm down, mommy

© forever1kay 2023 - please don’t translate, convert, copy, paraphrase, repost, or alter any of my works without my permission.