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xsweetcatastrophe · 2 months

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You Broke Me First

Part 24

sorry guys, I suck

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The alarm went off at 7:30 am, but Zoe was already awake. She's been awake for hours.

They were home, in Zoe's apartment, bright and early on Monday morning. Normally, Zoe arranged her work schedule so she wouldn't have to be in the office until about 10 or 10:30, giving herself a light start to the week.

But not this week.

This week she had to meet with Cillian and Heather - their PR relationship was officially coming to an end, and they had to discuss their breakup.

The rest of Sophie's party was a blur, and Zoe felt numb through it all. She partly blamed herself; typical Zoe, getting caught up in her emotions and feelings and not seeing things for what they are. This was never a real relationship, this was a contract signed for Cillian's image. Once the contract is done, they are to go back to their separate lives.

The issue is, Zoe doesn't remember life before Cillian.

A lot can happen in 3 months. 3 short months and Zoe started seeing the world differently, the anxiety eased and the weight on her shoulders disappeared. Life felt lighter, it felt fuller, it felt more rich. She didn't want her old life, she wanted this. She wanted the beach sunrise on a ratty old blanket in her old high school sweatshirt with Cillian next to her, forever.

Zoe reached over to her end table and shut off the alarm. She rolled back into bed, on her back, and continue to stare at the ceiling, much like she was doing for the past couple of hours.

"Did you get any sleep?" Cillian softly said. His arm was draped over her stomach, and he gave her a little squeeze.

"Not at all." Zoe replied.

Cillian sighed. "It doesn't mean anything. Let's just go and talk to her. We'll figure it out, okay? You and me."

Zoe sighed and smiled. "Me and you." she softly said, barely enough for Cillian to hear.

Cillian pulled her closer and gave her a slow kiss. He softly pulled away but stayed close, his nose touching hers. "It's going to be okay. I promise you," He whispered.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. You don't know what's going to happen," Zoe said, fighting back tears. She looked away from him, focusing on the window across her room. It looked sunny out. The leaves were blowing... is that a dog she heard? She was focusing on anything except for Cillian and their upcoming meeting.

"Hey," Cillian whispered, placing his hand on her cheek and slowly moving it so she was looking at him. "What do you think is gonna happen? You honestly think I'm gonna walk in there with you, talk to Heather, then walk out and act like a stranger to you? Never speak to you again?"

"I don't know, I really don't. I'm so embarrassed," Zoe said, fully turning her body towards him, laying on her side and blinking back tears. "I was so hesitant these past 3 months of this entire thing. I swore we would have a dinner once a week or do a walk so they can take photos, and that was it. I didn't think I'd feel this way. I don't want this to end," She said, finally letting the tears roll down her cheek. Cillian was quick to wipe them away.

"It won't." Cillian whispered. "It won't end if you don't want it to end. I know I don't want it to end. So it won't end. I mean, you forget I'm homeless and living here..." Cillian said, trying to bring humor to the situation.

Zoe huffed out a laugh. "Yea, how's that gonna work now? What are we gonna do?"

"I'm going to stay here for as long as you let me -"

"You're welcome here as long as you need to be," Zoe said, cutting him off. Cillian smiled.

"I'm going to stay here for as long as you let me," He continued, "and continue to talk to you, and be with you, and watch shows with you, and eat your cooking, and listen to you complain about your mom.. I want everything exactly how it is, I don't want anything to change. Only difference is there won't be a stupid paper contract saying we have to be together. I want to be with you, contract or not. I don't care what Heather even says today. Nothing changes how I feel about you," Cillian said, pulling her into him. She wrapped her around him, burying her face in his chest.

"You must thing i'm such a baby," Zoe mumbled.

Cillian laughed. "Not at all babe," He said, kissing the top of her head. She looked up and caught his lips with her own. Cillian sighed and looked at the time. "alright. Let me go feed Scout and take him for a quick lap around the block," He said, stretching his arms over his head. Zoe rolled off him and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching and standing up. Cillian didn't shy away from looking at her ass peaking out from her baggy t-shirt that she slept in when she stretched her own arms up over her head. He sighed and got up himself, making his way around the bed to stand in front of her. He caught her as she tried to walk around him, grabbing her by the hips. "Come here," He said, maneuvering her in front of him. She sighed.

"I'm fine, Cill" Zoe said. Lie.

"No you're not, you're picking at the skin around your nails. Look at me. I. Am not. Leaving you." He said, speaking very slowly and annunciating every word. "I'm a grown man. I'll be damned if a 20 something publicist tells me what to do with my life. I tell THEM,and they adjust. Understand? And what I want, is you." He said firmly, but softly. "No one is keeping me away from you." He whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

Zoe leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and smiling. When she finally opened her eyes, he was staring back at her.

"You and me?"

"Me and you."

Cillian and Zoe arrived at Heather's office, hand in hand. Any confidence Zoe had, she was getting from Cillian.

"Come on in, guys!" Heather said, coming into the lobby and ushering them into her private office. She did a double take when she saw both Zoe and Cillian holding hands.

Once they were inside and Heather closed the door, she turned to them both. "You guys don't have to do all that in front of me," She said, waving her hand at them, implying the hand holding. Zoe, on reflex, let go of Cillian's hand, but Cillian held tight.

"We gotta talk Heather," Cillian said, sitting down on the couch and pulling Zoe down with him, still holding her hand.

"I know! Big day!" She said, sitting across from them. "Coffee? Champagne? You both survived! 3 months weren't that bad, right Zoe?" She said, smiling at her.

"I understand the contract is up, which is fine, we'll sign whatever we need to, but we are going to continue to see each other," Cillian said, interjecting.

"Why?" Heather said, tone of voice completely different. She turned off her professional voice and her stuck up, bratty valley girl came out real quick.

"Because Heather, when you force 2 people to be together for 3 months for 'image', you get to know people and I've gotten to know Zoe, and I want to continue seeing her." Cillian said, firmly. "And please know i'm not asking you. I'm telling you. We are continuing to see each other. Regardless of what you say or agree with."

"Cillian," Heather said, switching back to her professional tone. "This is going to be really, really messy-"

"Good thing I have a publicist then." Cillian interrupted.

Heather smiled and looked down at her desk. She was pissed.

"...Okay. Okay." Heather said, almost as if she was convincing herself. "You're always free to do as you wish. I will do my best to clean up the mess in the aftermath."

"I'm not a mess," Zoe mumbled.

"Oh of course not, sweetie!" Heather said, as if she was talking to a 4 year old. "Just saying I will continue to do my job to the best of my ability."

"So we're good then, yeah?" Cillian said, standing up, causing Zoe to stand up with him since he was still gripping her hand.

"Sure are!" Heather said, smiling. "I did speak to your real estate agent, he asked if you had availability today for some houses, so if you could call him back, he also sent over some listings in your email. I also want to let you know I am drafting up a breakup article and once approved it will hit the publications next week -"

"Heather what did we just say?" Cillian said, dumbfounded.

"Cillian, just because you don't want to honor your contract, doesn't mean I can't not honor mine," Heather said. "I had these planned for weeks, they're all already aware, and I need to keep my word.... listen, I can see if I can edit them, but I can't pull them." She said firmly.

Cillian sighed.

"Do what you gotta do, but we're together." Cillian said, opening the door to her office.

"Of course! You can count on me," Heather said, smiling sweetly and following them to the door, seeing them out. She watched them, hand in hand, walk through the lobby and out the door. She waved when Zoe looked back at her, still smiling. She finally dropped her and and smile once the door closed and they were out of sight.

"Over my fucking dead body."

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I know it's short BUTTT besties it's about to get messssssyyyyyyy

tags: @lau219 @borntodiemp3 @cillianmurphyvevo @shopgirl6us

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction

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spaceofentropy · 3 months

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It was supposed to be a quick thing, when I started writing it. Instead, my fic for the Harringrove Corner Pride Event grew and grew until it became the 38k-word story it is now.

My prompt was "Find me in the future" and what I offer you today is a story about time travel, paradoxes, pining, the fear of screwing up, and also monsters, titled

Time travel is real

On ao3

Rated E for blood, not sexy times

Pairing: Harringrove (but the last chapter is all Munver because I am a self-indulgent fool!)

Relevant tags: Time Travel AU; Canon Divergence; Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Blood and Injury; Homophobia; Internalized Homophobia; Protective Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper; Robin Buckley is a good friend; Fix-it fic (if by fix-it you mean I fuck things up even more and the body count is higher); Whump; Pride Parades; references to HIV/AIDS Crisis; Billy Hargrove tries to be a decent brother (results may vary); Karen Wheeler and the married ladies of Hawkins being creeps

Summary: It's the summer of 1981 and one of Billy's friend bets that Billy won't have the guts to go and spend five minutes talking with the naked weirdo that's hiding under the pier. Billy's 14 and he has no idea of what consequences accepting that bet will have.

It starts like this:

"There's a weirdo under the pier."

From where he's propped against the wooden parapet, Billy stops letting his gaze float over the people walking by them on the pier and turns to look at Stab. The rest of their group does the same, all keeping their eyes politely away from Stab's busted lip and swollen cheek even as they look at him.

"As if the whole beachfront isn't full of weirdos every day," Jimmy Z. says in a dismissive huff.

Pudge and Lily nod, and she's already back to drawing little black toothy monsters on the green fabric of her shoes. There's a hole in the sole of her right shoe. She said her mom's waiting for her next weekly pay check to buy her a new pair. They've been waiting for the right pay check for two month.

Billy looks away and stomps down the jealous resentment over the fact that at least her mom seems to be the kind of parent that will never stop trying. Unlike his, or some of the parents of the others in their group.

"A different kind of weirdo," he hears Stab insist.

Billy does his best not to snicker when Jimmy F. eyes Stab with all the skepticism a five-foot-nothing kid can muster. Which is a lot, if your name is Jimmy Fernandez.

"Define different," Jimmy F. says.

"I think this one ran from an asylum or something like that."

"Like Roaming Maggie," Jimmy F. is quick to supply.

"No, different! This one doesn't have shit."

"So, like the poncho guy."

"No. He's naked."

"So, like Perv Guy last summer," Lily intervenes without even looking up, and Jimmy F. nods.

"No-ooooh!" Stab is getting closer to the end of his patience. "This one is not approaching anyone."

"Ok, so, like the high lady with the tattoos and the−"

"No, he's not talking to the sirens−"

"Kraken," Pudge says while exhaling a plume of smoke. "The lady with the orange bush said her talking to the kraken was what kept it from eating the pier."

Billy pulls a cig from his own pack as he tunes the diatribe out. There's a good chance they're gonna go on for hours. They've done it before. It's the first weekend of summer break and they still have fuck all to do: inane chatter is perfect for them to waste time but not money.

He likes when it's like this. When they can just sit around, or swim, or talk about shit that doesn't really matter. He likes when they can forget life is shit, parents are a mess, school's a drag, and the future is on fire. Nothing better than to let his friends' words wash over him and make the world seem a little less fucked.

He has just finished his cigarette, making sure to smoke every last bit of it, when he registers what Stab's saying:

"I bet Billy wouldn't."

"I wouldn't what?"

"Find the balls to go and talk to the weirdo under the pier."

#my stuff #my fanfiction #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #with a tiny side of #munver #tigerfreak #time travel AU

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storiesbyjes2g · 5 days

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3.169 Caught up

It's 5:19 a.m., and Desi is giggling, so I guess it's time to get up. Today is her birthday, and I am stoked about celebrating a new chapter of her life. But that joy in tandem with all these deaths, and watching everyone around me get older, has me feeling anxious. In the grand scheme of things, I'm still pretty young, not even a quarter of the way through my adult days. But time feels like it's zooming by. I can't recall exactly when it started, but these last few months have flown by so quickly. It feels like just yesterday I moved in with Sophia, and now I'm grieving the loss of my parents. And I have a toddler now. Where has the time gone? What have I really done with my life? Even though I know I've grown a lot, sometimes I still feel like that scared young man who was afraid of his feelings.

Desiree isn't ready to eat yet, but I'm starving, so I put her in the high chair while I got food for me. I learned my lesson, and she will not scare me like that again. I think she enjoys keeping me company, sitting there, blowing raspberries and saying things to me. She's so chatty so early in the morning. Maybe she's recalling a wild dream she had, heh. I'll always encourage growing her skills, but hopefully she won't end up as chatty as Chi Chi and her daughter. Still, I kinda can't wait to have a real conversation with her. I tell her today is her birthday and about how she'll be a big girl and all the fun things we can do together like go to the park, play in the water, and make friends. She doesn't seem impressed, and I laughed at her unamused face. I guess she's not interested in life outside my arms yet, heh.

Sophia joined us a little later, and I ask for her thoughts about doing play dates with Yasmine's girls. I expected a little resistance, but I didn't expect the full on stone face.

"We made a promise to each other, Luca."

I had not forgotten how we promised to make time for each other no matter how hard or busy things got, but what did that have to do with this? Desi needs to socialize. We may as well do it with kids we already know vs. meeting strangers at the park or whatever. Sophia admits the recent busyness was beyond our control and expresses gratefulness for the pockets of time we made for ourselves. But she also senses me getting caught up. I shift in my chair and tense up because it sounds like she's accusing me of something, and I don't like it.

"You have a huge heart, and I love that about you," she says. "I don't ever want you to stop caring about people, but while you're out here trying to help everyone, I feel like you're gonna edge me out of your life."

I can't lie. Those felt like fighting words, and I couldn't keep it together anymore.

"Edge you out? How could you possibly think that? After all we've been through??"

"No, please, you misunderstood me. I'm just saying I don't want to be left out. You're already gone a lot to look after your niece and nephews. I'm not a babysitter or even your baby mama. I'm you're wife! And we're friends! I miss talking to you and laughing about stupid stuff!"

"I'm not saying I don't want to help Yasmine," she continued. "Just...watch yourself. You're so quick to say yes to everyone, but I don't want you spending all of our time being a hero. Remember to make time for us. Please."

I see what she means now. I guess I have been falling down on the job lately. Taking care of her, Desiree, and the house is noble—endearing, even—but it's no substitute for spending quality time together, not that my goal was to avoid quality time. She shouldn't have to loiter in the living room, waiting for me to come home to spend time with me. I need to be more intentional about it. I still haven't taken her to that restaurant by Dub's house. Maybe it's time to clear the proverbial schedule and do that.

"I'll remember."

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #desiree amari murillo

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jujutsubaby · 7 months

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Hiiii! I would like have a coffee at the Heaven and Earth cafe! If possible, could I get a mocha latte with soy milk and a kouign amann on the side? Pretty please and thank you 🙏

a/n: thank you for your ask and for participating 🥹 i appreciate it sooo much and i love your order! chocolate + buttery pastries are to die for 😇

✨ WELCOME TO CAFE HEAVEN & EARTH ! ✨

🤍 PAIRING. yuta

🤍 WORD COUNT. 1.4k (sorry anon i got too carried away with this lol)

ugh, you only had 15 minutes to quickly grab your drink and a bite to eat before your 8 AM stats lecture with the notoriously strict professor kusakabe. yeah, sure you could’ve probably avoided this if you had just slept at a normal time, but alas, you were hell bent on finishing one more episode of your favorite trashy real-estate focused reality tv show. but no worries, cafe heaven & earth is known for its efficiency and speed.

that’s what you thought to yourself 8 minutes ago, when you thought you would be out of there by now. instead, right after you gave your order, you noticed the long line of people waiting for their orders. you try your best to overhear their conversations so as to better understand what was happening

“i heard there’s a disturbance in the kitchen.” “who told you that?” “i dunno, some guy with white hair came out and said it?” crap. you don’t have time for this. you frantically look at your watch, as the aforementioned white haired man came out of the kitchen nonchalantly and made an announcement. “sorry folks, there’s gonna be a delay on everyone’s orders due to a disturbance in the kitchen.”

everyone murmurs but no one says anything, but you’ve had enough. “what’s the disturbance? how long will this take? i’m in a bit of a hurry, actually.” the white haired man takes a quick glance at you and says “there’s just a disturbance. thanks.”

dumbfounded, you’re not even sure how to respond to…his lack of response? you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to figure out if it was worth just leaving right now and risking the entire class hearing your stomach rumble, or getting chewed out by professor kusakabe. your thoughts are interrupted by a soft voice from beside you.

“running late?” your head shoots up, and you find that the owner of the voice is a young man around your age wearing crisp black jeans and a high-necked white sweater. you’re slightly annoyed. you don’t really have the time to chit chat with a stranger right now. “uh, yeah, kinda.” you say curtly. you notice that he’s a little taller than you, with gentle features befitting his polite voice. his black hair falls in his large dark blue eyes in neat curtains. most notably, though, you see prominent shadows underneath his eyes. he must also be a student.

“what class?”

“stats”

“shit, stats 153? with kusakabe?” he grimaces none too subtly.

your stomach drops. great, so you are gonna get chewed out for being late. “yeah. how fucked am i if i show up late?” he pretends to think before saying “well, depends. do you like having to explain in excruciating detail to the entire hall exactly what you were doing last night that made you late for an 8am? since that’s what he made us do when i had him last year.” hell no. there’s no way in hell you’re gonna tell anyone you were up until 2am watching selling sunset.

the white-haired man re-emerges at that moment with an order that looks mercifully familiar. “soy mocha and kouign-amann for…” you approach the pickup counter in anticipation. the employee raises a doubtful eyebrow at you before reading a name off the receipt in his hand. “...yuta?” the stranger who was just speaking with you steps in front of you and grabs his order, flashing an awkward apologetic grin at you.

as if this day couldn’t get stranger. “uh, that’s my order…” you say, but you’re not so confident anymore. “sorry, i think it’s mine. been ordering this ever since this place opened.”

“i’ve been ordering that ever since this place opened,” you say defiantly. you’re not sure if this dude is playing some joke on you or what, but you definitely don’t have time for it.

“that’s interesting, but my name’s yuta,” he continues patiently, “so unless we also have the exact same name, i’m pretty sure this is mine this time.”

a quick glance at your watch – 5 minutes left. okay, plan aborted – people are just gonna have to deal with your noisy tummy today. “okay, well…” you’re not sure how to really say goodbye to him. “forget it. i’m just gonna get outta here. i’m late as it is…” you leave without glancing behind you as you speed walk to your lecture hall and it’s not until a couple seconds later you hear someone shouting behind you.

you turn to see…yuta? from the cafe? what’s he doing following you? oh god, is he a creep?! it suddenly occurs to your sleep-deprived mind that he might want to fight after you accidentally tried to steal his order, and you speed up.

“hey, wait! stop walking faster, geez! i’m trying to help you!” confused, you slow your pace, willing to hear him out. “what do you want?” you ask, wishing it didn’t come out as harshly as it did.

“well, i was just wondering…y’know, seeing as we apparently have the exact same order and are both about to be late to our respective classes…” yuta clears his throat. “wanna share while we walk?”

you're skeptical, but the kouign-amann was looking so delectable in his hands that you had to double check you weren’t drooling. it didn’t help that your stomach chose that exact time to elicit a god awful noise begging for food. you acquiesce. “yeah, i’d…i’d actually really like that.” you flash him a thankful smile as you both walk to class.

“so…how come you’re running late? you seem like the type who’d have it all together,” you ask, trying to break up the silence with some small talk. you look up again at his eye bags. “up late studying, i bet?”

“hardly,” yuta answers sheepishly. “this show i’m hopelessly hooked on just dropped its new season on netflix…

you burst out laughing at the image of the polite, perfect yuta falling victim to a netflix binge. “no way, me too! what show? no, let me guess. black mirror or something?”

yuta looks at his feet and mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like selling sunset. no way. feeling just a tiny bit of sadistic glee at his embarrassment, you ask him to repeat himself.

“all right, all right! it was selling sunset! i just can’t stay away…i need to know what those ladies get up to!”

maybe it’s the way he’s blushing or your sleep deprivation, but something possesses you to reach out and pat his arm comfortingly. “don’t be ashamed,” you reassure. “only the greatest of intellectual minds can handle christine’s character arc.”

yuta gapes at you, before his eyes crinkle into a soft laugh. oh…he’s kinda cute, isn’t he…

you pass the rest of the walk discussing the off-the-rails drama of the new season as you alternate taking bites of sugary-sweet pastry and sips of mocha, and you find that you’re having a good enough time that you’re not even thinking about the reaming you’re due for in stats lecture.

soon enough, you’re outside your lecture hall, and it’s time to part ways. you sigh, knowing you’re not prepared to go in 10 minutes late. “well, this is me. right before i get my ass handed to me…”

“don’t worry, he always makes the assignments way harder than the actual tests” yuta reassures you with a bright smile. damn, he’s not kinda cute. he is cute.

“yeah, but stats just isn’t my best subject,” you say dejectedly. “i’m only taking it because i need to for my major but at this point, i dunno how i’m gonna pass the class without some divine intervention or a tutor or somethin’.” you hope yuta takes the hint.

“oh, yeah, well, if you want, i can…i can help you. i quite liked the class when i took it last year,” he says bashfully.

“really?” your eyes beam at him. “here, gimme your phone, i’ll text you about a study session, if you’re down?”

“yeah, of course!” yuta is doing an awful job of hiding the blush in his cheeks as you put your contact in his phone. “i’ll definitely need help come midterms.” you hand his phone back to him. “by the way, didn’t you say you have class? shouldn’t you…” you gesture at another lecture hall nearby yours, and he nervously scoffs.

“oh, yeah, i do, but it’s the one near northside.” northside? like the-other-side-of-campus northside? you’re confused as to why he’s even here right now. “wait, what? you’re gonna be so late for class! why did you even come here?”

yuta fidgets with his fingers, doing an awful job of maintaining eye contact with you. “it’s well…i dunno, i just thought maybe being a couple minutes late so i could share my kouign-amann with a cute girl might be worth it.”

#100 #☕️ - coffee break #🪅 - pree's follower events #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yuta x reader

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blues824 · 2 years

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Hey hey! I've been stalking your blog and seeing these amazing posts you put out so I wanted to put one in real quick before you closed off request, perhaps can I get the side characters from obey me hearing something bad has been happening in the human world so they go to check it getting Intel from places to find what is going on and try to resolve it catching demon mc doing the harm to human world since it could put a damaging reputation on the student exchange course, since because of their spiteful and rude master which they had an pack with ultimately abusing their pack with demon mc so maybe demon mc has been put under hypnosis from their master that they are doing the harmful things.

So confronting demon mc master about abusing the pack demon mc protects their master speaking up in the conversation their master gets angered from them speaking in the conversation that they pull demon mc hair yelling at them telling them to stay out of it hearing demon mc cry of pain from hair tug so hearing it makes them snap at demon mc master and resolving the issue

Gender-neutral reader.

Trigger Warning: Abuse of a pact as well as the reader, Hurt/Comfort??, Harry Potter references, making jokes out of a dark situation

Preface: You are the significant other of [insert demon], sent to the Human Realm for the exchange program.

Diavolo

You were one of the exchange students that was sent to the Human Realm for the program, and he had received word that you weren’t doing well. In fact, you were portraying very destructive behavior, which was very uncharacteristic of you.

Upon seeing him again, you ran up to him and begged him to save you from your master, but then a man walked up and pulled you by the hair while shouting at you. This made the Demon Prince absolutely furious, and he grabbed the man and threw him across the hallway.

Then, after making sure the guy was dead, he made sure that the pact would be severed. You devoured the human’s soul as per the agreement in the contract, and Diavolo made the proper preparations to bring you back home. He let the other demon student know to not make a pact.

Barbatos

His Highness had informed him that his significant other was being destructive in the human realm, and he used his powers to see what was going on. What he saw made him lose his usually calm composure. Had Diavolo not been there, he would have destroyed the entire Human Realm.

The second he got to you, you were clinging to him and crying and begging him to help you when the man you were in a pact with pulled you by the hair. I hope the mans likes dirt because he’s gonna be eating it very soon.

Guy was dead and on the Hogwarts Train to Hell by the time that Barbatos had you in his arms again. He gently ran his hands through your now-messed up hair, hoping to relieve some of the pain caused to your scalp. But don’t worry. He would go to Hell just to kill the guy all over again.

Solomon

Demons can have multiple different pacts with multiple different people, and you were in a pact with him as well as your abuser. He would use his magic to see how you were doing, when one day there was something wrong because he couldn’t sense you. He immediately went up to the human realm to see what was wrong.

That’s where he saw your master dragging you by the hair and shouting at you for not obeying him. Solomon’s only thought was Oh, hell no and he Avada Kedavra’d the dude out of the human realm on a non-stop Weasley car trip to Hell.

In the end, everything turned out to be alright. You were bloodied and bruised because of the man, and he was disgusted by the acts that humankind could pull without any remorse. Your boyfriend whipped out a small handkerchief and rubbing alcohol to treat the small cuts, using a tender hand as he went.

Simeon

Once Diavolo had told him that there was something wrong with you, that man that decided to put his hands on you better start kneeling on his knees to pray because the Wrath of God was about to condemn him to Hell. Actually, there is no point for that anymore.

Seeing you beg him to help you made his heart break, and he was in his archangel form in mere seconds. In the clouds, you could see the other archangels (even Michael), backing Simeon up. The human has now shit his pants and requires a diaper change.

After sending that douche canoe to go to the Celestial Realm just to get his credit card rejected at the Pearly Gates, Simeon felt as though he could finally let out a breath of relief after making sure that you were alright. He definitely requests a replacement for you in the exchange program.

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devilfic · 1 year

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❝small favor❞

IV. another white guy from new york.

parts: previously / next plot: it's uncanny, but it can't be. right? because that would be stupid. and spider-man isn't stupid. right? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: violence, guns, knives, blood mention, alcohol consumption, peter parker isn't beating the average white guy allegations, well. when he smiles like that he might. words: 6.7k.

You almost expect them to turn you away at the door when you hand over your badge, some paranoid part of you thinking they’ll take one look at you and know you don’t belong here, but the man at the check-in hands it back to you with a pleasant, “Enjoy your evening.”

That was half an hour ago, and Parker was nowhere in sight.

He was going to “meet you there” as Jameson promised, though without a clue what to look for, you found yourself aimlessly floating through perfume clouds of high society. You didn’t want to hit the bar this close to eight, but if you didn’t find an anchor quick, you’d vibrate right through the floor. Worst of all, you didn’t even have the guy’s number. What would you do if he was a no-show?

Your job, you suppose, sullen and already dreading the evening to come.

There’s no sign of Wilson Fisk either. In your usual setting, you might’ve already flagged down a guest or two to ask what they thought about the rumors, but your usual settings were messy, bloody, and out in the real world. Here, you had a list of questions to ask that didn’t even scratch your curiosity.

What’s your name? Are you excited to be here this evening? How does the Stark Charity Ball reflect the New York City you know and love? Were you attacked? Can you confirm Wilson Fisk was on the scene?

You hadn’t even made it to the fourth question before you’d given up. How would you last a night like this?

Slithering through the crowd, you make your way to the snack table with hopes to eat your way through the night. At least you could count on rich people to shell out on good cheese.

There’s a band playing in the corner, a gentle stringed melody that you appreciate over the chatter of the guests. You make your way over and let yourself get carried away in the tune, only glancing every so often at your watch to gauge the time. It was nine minutes to eight, nine minutes until Pepper Potts took the stage to start the night, and you still had no idea where your partner was.

It’s almost natural the way your hand finds your phone, swiping over the familiar contact name and pressing out a quick message.

The party can’t start without you.

Towering windows make up most of the ballroom, fading sunlight overpowering the chandeliers above, and you take advantage in hopes it might reveal your webbed friend hanging off the roof.

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Aww, you really do like me :) No kidding. Are you already in place? Just about. Doing a quick perimeter check. You enjoying the party? I would be if my partner was here on time. Hey, cut Parker some slack! His train’s probably late and I don’t see any signs of Kingpin yet. I'm just glad you've stopped trying to fight me on this. If you can’t beat ‘em... And maybe look up every once in a while, you’re gonna run into somebody.

Just as your eyes scan the very last word, your senses go haywire. There’s cold liquid running down your hand and you've just run into something. When you finally tear your eyes away from your phone, you unfortunately realize that something is now wearing the remainder of your drink.

People nearby have formed a clearing around you, but it feels less out of courtesy and more to point and laugh at you. Regardless, you’ve got to fix this, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Your victim stands in a small puddle of sangria, the front of their tux dripping in it still, and you could see how red stains crawled up crisp white. You could only imagine how much every bit of their suit cost (and the Daily Bugle definitely didn’t have the budget to cover it).

They lift their copper head and you’re at first struck by the smile on their face, then the peppering of freckles across the bridge of their nose, and finally... their name.

He carefully removes his suit jacket to assess the damage to his shirt, “Nah, don’t worry. I was looking for a reason to leave early anyway.”

You’re breathless, certain you should be rushing to grab towels or begging him not to sue you into oblivion, but you don’t really get that far, “I’m... really sorry.”

He laughs, so genuine that you feel the tension in your shoulders deflate just at the sound. Just then, a waiter rushes over with a hand towel, insisting he lead him to the men’s room to clean up, but he’s waved off with little more than a “thank you” and “I’ll survive, I promise.”

He steps out of the puddle to allow someone to clean it up, bringing him that much closer to you. When he's done with the towel, he hands it off to you. His eyes trail to your chest and his eyes widen some, “The Daily Bugle. You a reporter?”

You realize he’s spotted your press badge and rush to introduce yourself, wiping absentmindedly at your sticky hand, “Uh... yes. Actually. Crime beat reporter.” You set your empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray and hold out your clean hand to shake.

His hand is warm, if not a little sticky like yours, though you have no grounds to complain, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know.”

He quirks an eyebrow, still smiling, “Then... was that drink a calculated assault?”

“No! God, no. I genuinely wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not very safe for a crime beat reporter, don’t you think?”

You’ve got to be on fire. You feel like it, struggling between a laugh and a whine, “I’m sorry you had to be the one to teach me that lesson.”

“No worries. Like I said, you did me a favor.” Harry glances around, “So… you're reporting on what, exactly? You betting on a robbery or something?”

The humor of that isn't lost on you, “Actually, I’m filling in tonight. Our usual reporter definitely wouldn’t have ruined your nice shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this stain rather charming.”

You can’t help it. You giggle and he smiles even wider, “May I ask why you want to escape so soon?”

“Not if you’re gonna write it down.”

“Off the record? In exchange for the stain.”

Harry Osborn has a boyish look to him even though he’s steadily approaching 26, some baby fat still clinging to his cheekbones when he smiles wide enough, “Well, this was my first stop since hopping off a nine hour flight from Oxford and I’m, as the English say, absolutely knackered. I was gonna leave in half an hour after photos but…” He laughs, casting a look over his shoulder at the stage, “I’ve made my donation. I won’t be missed.”

Perking up with an idea, you reach into your bag and pull out a recorder, “In that case, how about I get you down for a comment on your generous donation of…”

“Five million.”

You blink, swallowing hard, “Five million… to make up for it? I'll even throw in a few questions about your study at Oxford. I hear you're working on a revolutionary breakthrough with lab-grown bacteria that breaks down plastic.”

Harry's eyes light up. For a moment, the image of Harry Osborn is just Harry, “You sure Jameson would let you publish something nice about an Osborn?”

The Daily Bugle was no friend to Spider-Man, but neither was it a friend to Norman Osborn. You recall some of the more scalding headlines about Oscorp’s president that you’d published in the past. It was the one thing you and Jameson could agree on. “You know Jameson well?”

“Of course. I’ve got a buddy who works there too, actually. You might know him. His name’s-”

Harry’s voice is drowned out by the collective oohing and awing of the crowd when the lights dim, shrouding the grand ballroom in the fading glow of the sun. The stage, once empty, is now illuminated with the presence of Pepper Potts. Uproarious applause fills the room. Harry smiles politely at you. His buddy would be a conversation for later.

You want to focus on Pepper, you really do, but it’s like you’ve broken out of a spell the second Harry’s eyes leave yours, and you find yourself once again scanning the crowd for Parker. There was no good reason for him to be this late and you couldn’t even give him a piece of your mind about it.

You shoot off an indignant text to Peter.

Your guy better have been hit by a cyclist on the way here or he’s getting an earful when I see him. Pepper looks amazing :(

But no instant reply. In fact, three minutes pass and there’s nothing. You glance up to the windows for any sign of him watching and find none. Was... he here?

You glance at Harry. If Jillian were here, she’d punch you in the face for what you’re about to do, for the opportunity you're about to squander. Okay, maybe not a punch, but it’d be violent.

But then you’re thinking about Peter, about that night that changed everything, about his blood and bruises and the men with guns for hands. You think about how Peter worried for you. You think about Harry, who has just donated five million dollars to charity, and how there are over a hundred more of him packed in this ballroom right now. You think about Wilson Fisk, and how much havoc he could wreak if he put Spider-Man out for good.

And then you're elbowing yourself through the crowd, searching for the nearest emergency stairwell, hoping that if Peter’s still watching he might meet you halfway. Parker and those questions be damned. You'd find a way to make it up to Jameson somehow.

You’re about ten feet away from the nearest exit when someone takes a hold of your wrist, a few seconds away from the end of Pepper’s speech, and whoever is holding you back has a grip so iron it stings. You can’t clearly see the face of who’s grabbed you but it doesn’t feel familiar. Your heart jumps into your throat. Had Fisk's men infiltrated the room already? Had they gotten to Spidey? Did they know you? Were you next?

You’ve got no pocket knife on you, but you have a fist.

You curl your fingers inward and aim right for your captor’s head. Your fist makes contact with skin. The room erupts into thunderous applause. The lights go up.

You never actually land the punch, but your captor looks a little too wide-eyed to be one of Fisk’s men, too soft in the face. His own hand has completely stopped yours in its tracks, just a hair away from breaking his nose, and he’s staring at you like a deer in headlights. A big, brown doe-eyed deer. “Uh, hi,” your eyes flicker down to the camera hanging from his neck, almost blocking the badge beneath it that reads "P. B. Parker", and then you meet his eyes with the same bewilderment, “sorry I’m late.”

Parker is about average height with a build you can't quantify when his shirt is draping off him. It's a ridiculously huge plaid thing, the kind of thing someone would wear to hide themselves, but all he does is stand out in the sea of Armani and Givenchy. Old jeans, old shirt, high-tops, and a muddy-grey beanie to top it all off. It was a wonder they let him in the door at all.

What you can feel is the strength behind his hand as it holds your fist in place. Some people are looking—you realize, after the tremors of your punch reverberate back up your arm—and so you yank your hand back before any security can take notice.

Your partner waits a full second before holding out his own, offering a subtle, wobbly smile, "I would've been here sooner but... traffic, ya know?"

His voice is low, you notice this next. Practically a mumble. You kind of realize why your coworkers said you weren't missing much; outside of his awkward mannerisms and sweet, unassuming baby face, he looked like any other white guy from New York. He also seemed like he didn't want to be seen or heard, and you imagined that Jameson had no problem with that.

But his mumbling forces you to take notice of his lips so you can read them, and their thin, blushy quality is only marred by a little dryness. Broken by biting or... or something. "You're late." Is all you manage to say.

His lips part, turning downward, "Yeah, I know," he stutters, the pitch of his voice going up a hair, "I said- um, I caught the last half of Mrs. Potts’ speech." And then he turns his camera to you, flicking through images that are too small on the screen for you to assess the quality of. You actually have no doubt they're good, but you're upset he's late and you're certain there's nothing remarkable about this guy—nothing at all—and yet you can't stop staring.

"You know Spidey?" You blurt out next, and his eyes widen and zero in on you. You don't know why he's surprised. "He's mentioned me, hasn't he?"

Parker blinks, "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. All the time. You're very... good. At your job."

"Thank you. So are you."

And wouldn't you know it, he actually blushes. It's sweet and alarming how quickly red blooms across the apples of his cheeks, how his hands wobble around his camera a bit, how it disarms you for a moment. It'd be cute if you could just figure out what about him was throwing you off.

In fact, you're so enthralled in figuring out that something that you see his lips moving but just miss his question, barely hearing the tail-end of it. You watch his lips again as you ask him to repeat it, but the musicians have started up a jaunty tune with trumpets and high white keys, so you duck closer to him and ask him to repeat it once more.

"I asked-" And as you get closer, you have an excuse to look at him more deeply.

Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth to his chin (and all its little hairs that he hadn't caught shaving), down to his neck where you see, just peeking out beneath the lip of his beanie, a curl. You've abandoned his question now. You just feel, as strange as it is, that you need a closer look...

Your hand is moving before your mind can catch up with it, until it's caught in Parker's halfway to his throat. You're so close to him that you can see the way the skin of his chin rolls with the effort to lean away from you, or the honey speckles in his eyes that are all but eclipsed by his blown-wide pupils.

His fingers are latched around yours. He's not using the same strength he was before, doesn't need to, but you can sort of feel it beneath the callouses. Even then, it's so gentle. You don't know why you react with just as mush wonder. The world might as well be at half-speed. You almost wish him to speak again because you've got nothing to say for yourself here.

Parker looks on at you, still holding onto your hand. He smells... like the city.

"Do you-" He starts, chokes on his spit, and then swallows, "are you always this friendly when you're tipsy?"

You blanch. "What? I'm not-" You yank your hand back, cup it to your mouth and nose, and breathe in the sangria. Could he smell it on your breath? "I'm not tipsy. I barely even had a drink before I spilled it all over..."

You catch Parker's eye to find him looking interested. "Spilled it all over...?"

"Someone. Whatever. It was an accident."

"You spilled your drink on someone?"

"It was an accident."

"You know, I was feeling real bad about showing up late, but Jameson's gonna have a field day with this." You're mortified. He wasn't interested, he was amused. "Are we gonna get sued?"

"No!" Your voice draws the attention of a couple nearby, making you shrink even closer to Parker, "I told you it was an accident and I apologized. And you're still not off the hook for being late."

He folds his arms across his chest, smiles steadily this time, and agrees. The action is so unmistakable that it saps all the lightheartedness right out of you. Parker notices the change.

The only thing that breaks the moment is Harry Osborn finding you both.

Your head whips at the first "Peter!", thinking you'll see red and blue somewhere nearby, but Harry is gunning straight for Parker with the widest smile on his face. You break away just in time for him to envelop Parker in a big, friendly hug that would've knocked Parker off his feet if not for how solid he was. A few onlookers take in the scene, some amused, others not so much.

It takes you a moment to digest that Harry meant Parker, had called him Peter with such love and affection that there was no way he was mistaken, and Parker had returned the hug a beat later without correcting him.

There were probably a million Peters in New York alone. And yet...

They stay intertwined a minute longer, only breaking away so that Harry could hold... Peter's face in his hands. "Peter Parker! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry seems to remember you're there. He releases Peter and points to you, "So, you two know each other after all. Pete's the buddy at the Bugle I told you about. We've been best friends for years."

As if this Peter business wasn't enough for you to wrap your head around, you struggle to imagine these two being best friends. One of New York City's richest heirs and a contractor for the Daily Bugle. Your disbelief is evident as you ask, "How did you two meet...?"

"College. We went to ESU together. We were even roommates before I went off to Oxford." Harry smiles proudly, patting Peter on the back. It's then that you notice Peter is looking very, very uncomfortable. You wonder for a moment if this is all some elaborate joke Harry's playing, but it hadn't struck you as his type of humor.

This is, in fact, a man named Peter Parker. He works for the Daily Bugle, he's best friends with Harry Osborn, he works with Spider-Man, and they both share a name. Unremarkable Peter Parker. Nothing you were missing, they'd said.

Peter must see that you're focused hard on him, so he turns to Harry, "Yeah, Oxford. Why aren't you... there? Again?"

Harry laughs, unbothered, "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"No, it's just... last I remember, your dad wanted you there until your project got approved."

The very mention of Norman Osborn kills the mood entirely. Harry's smile falls quick, though he tries to hide it, and shuffles a bit uncomfortably. "That was the deal. But you know dad: the world revolves around his every whim." Harry's eyes cut to you so fast that you tense up, recovering quickly. "Off the record."

Jillian would not accept that. You, on the other hand, swallow it down and tuck it away for another day, "Anything for a friend of a friend."

That gets Harry smiling again, however terse. The conversation quickly changes course as Harry pulls at the stained white of his shirt to show Peter, "Speaking of: you like? Our new mutual friend gave it to me."

Peter glances at you, chuckling with a nervous edge, and grabs at the fabric to examine for himself, "Something tells me you deserved it."

Harry immediately resorts to banter that Peter melts into. It was no doubt now that they were friends, that Peter's awkwardness had only been on account of you being here.

You can only smile and nod, smile and nod, while you watch Peter's every move. You couldn't say anything even though you were bursting, but now your heart was beginning to pound in your ears, making it hard for you to do what you were trying to pretend you weren't doing.

Spider-Man was smart. Beneath the quips, he was extremely smart. He wouldn't tell you his real name and then show up here as a civilian, so brazen, knowing that you'd instantly figure out it was him. That'd be too easy. He trusted you, sure, but he wasn't stupid. He'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of unmasking when you'd mentioned it last night. If Peter was... Peter, he wouldn't have come at all. Because that would be stupid.

And he wouldn't have bothered to pretend, up until the last second, that he wasn't Peter, if he was just going to flay himself before you like this. Because you would've figured it out eventually.

So, surely, there were a million Peters in New York and you happened to know two of them. And they knew each other. And one of them was a superhero. Of course.

You slip your phone out, checking your recent messages with your heart in your throat. If Peter wasn't Peter, he'd have texted you back by now. Because Peter—fuck—Spidey wouldn't miss a chance to make that joke.

There's one new message. You barely get to see what it says before broken glass sprays from above.

There’s a cacophony of sound all at once. Glass breaking, screaming amongst the crowd, and the sound of gunfire letting off into the ceiling. One minute, the room had been in peaceful bliss, and the next, a tidal wave of terrified guests were rushing at you.

You’re lucky that Peter’s arm is like iron, strong enough to rip you back and away from the crowd that converges on the exits, because if you had stayed in your spot for a second longer you would have been trampled underfoot. Like your phone, which is in pieces the second it slips out of your hand.

Harry is there too, huddled against the two of you in the corner, but that doesn’t stop you three from all being pressed upon by the panicking crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason, no order in the chaos. Beautiful clutches embedded with Swarovski crystals lay abandoned at your feet. Everyone in the room can see, whatever it might be, that their life is worth more than a single thing in this room. Even worth more than the lives of the other guests they shove to get out first.

You try your best to see over the heads of the swarm to get a glimpse of what had set the entire party off, and immediately two things are visible. One: Pepper Potts is center stage, the bright white stage lights beating down on her. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at her brow, you’d think her bored. The second thing was that there was a man standing beside her who wasn’t standing there before, a microphone in one hand and a gun in the other.

Even from all the way at the back of the room, you could see the gun trembling in his grip as the barrel kissed Pepper’s temple.

The next thing is his voice. It’s loud, feedback screeching off the walls so high that you think they might shatter the windows. The crowd is loud and he’s louder. You can hear him saying something about how everyone shouldn’t leave just yet, that they’d want to see this front row and not on the 10 o’clock news. You do not see Kingpin. This man is utterly alone.

Harry is shouting something at you, you can feel his breath and the spit that flies out in the hurry of his words, but you can barely make out what he’s saying over the guests. Peter clutches you both even closer.

“We… we have to…” You start, glancing up at the windows for any sign of Spider-Man, but you see nothing. Your eyes drop to Peter’s to find him already staring right at you. You’ve no idea what’s going through his head, and the adrenaline rushing behind your eyes makes it hard to speculate. You only know what you need to say, “…we need to find Spider-Man.”

“We need to leave!” Harry argues. He wriggles out of Peter’s grip and starts pulling you both toward the nearest exit, but he only makes progress with pulling you forward.

You were about to argue back until you felt Peter’s hand at the base of your spine, pushing you into Harry with ease and right toward one of the exit doors. You turn, clutching onto Harry as to not lose him in the crowd, only to find Peter isn’t following you. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Both? Wh- Peter! We’re not leaving without you!” Your attempt to grab at him is futile. He shrugs away from your touch, keeps pushing you and Harry through the stampede as if he really intended on staying behind. “Peter!”

He finally looks you in the eyes that second time, the desperation with which you’d said his name snapping him out of some dissociative spell, “I’ll be right behind you! I’m gonna help get people out. Some got trampled, I-I’ve got to-”

Harry is next to admonish him, “Pete, come on. This isn’t the time to play fucking hero!”

But Peter’s not listening again—eyes faraway, slipping over the crowd as if searching for something—he’s heading back into the fray, calling to you some half-hearted promise that he’d follow soon, and then his head disappears into the whirlwind of bodies. You were able to follow him up until the moment his hat got pulled off, and then… nothing.

The current pushes and pulls at you and Harry, dragging you down the hallway. You feel your ankle twist awkwardly and are thankful that Harry is still clinging to you because had he not been, you would’ve been dragged down and trampled for sure. He holds you upright, pressing you to his side, assuring you over the noise that you’d go back in to get Peter in a minute.

You think that Harry Osborn is much kinder than his father seemed to be, and that you really do owe him a good soundbite in the Bugle after this.

You feel a draft coming from outside, promising you were close to being free from the confines of the hallway. You grab Harry’s hands and peel them off of you, pushing him forward into the crowd without a second thought, just as you see the light of the city come up ahead. His head whips to you. He calls your name as he’s swept away, but you press yourself hard against the wall and let the crowd lead him out to safety.

The crawl back to the ballroom is awful.

There are fewer people escaping, thankfully, and so it’s less like an undertow, but there are so many people and all of them are perfectly fine with throwing their bodies forward with caution thrown to the wind.

It takes you longer than a minute to get back to the door you’d come out of, even longer to squeeze through with elbows hitting you square in the chest and heels digging into your feet.

The room is less than a third of what it had been when the gunman had arrived. You frantically search for Peter in the remaining, scattered crowd; people are frozen in awe, in horror. Some people in the crowd were begging the gunman to reconsider, and others were praying. Your heart sank. A woman was about to die and there was virtually nothing you could do.

You look up to the windows one more time. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t call him, but you close your eyes and pray too. Whoever he was. Wherever he was.

And then you hear it. The familiar thwip! cuts through the air. You open your eyes and a second later, the clatter of the gunman’s pistol hitting the floor follows. You’re blessed with a whole five seconds of glee before the gunman surges forward and pulls a knife on Pepper, holding it to her throat in a panic.

“Easy there, buddy.” Your head snaps up to the rafters. From a single thread of spider silk, Spidey descends from the ceiling with a hand outstretched. He’s a ways away from the two of them, offering some sense of space. “You don’t wanna do this.”

The gunman has since abandoned his microphone, but his voice reverberates in the near empty room just fine, “Get out of here, Spider-Man! You’re next!”

“Why don’t you and I hash it out, then? Just you and me. Leave Mrs. Potts out of it.”

“No, no,” the man mutters; you can hear sirens growing closer to the building, “she’s part of it. You’re all part of it.”

Pepper speaks up for the first time, “Whatever you want, I can get it. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. The man jerks his knife closer to her skin and you can see, after a moment, a thin bead of red dribbles down her collarbone.

Spidey holds out both his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa-”

And it happens in a flash. One second, Pepper is being held at knifepoint, and the next, she’s being pushed off the stage.

Spider-Man immediately swoops in and catches her, swinging her to safety on the other side of the room, but you’re too mesmerized by the new body on stage pinning the attacker down by the throat. How you’d missed him, you’ve no clue, but he’s wrestling the man onto his stomach and restraining his arms behind his back just as the doors to the ballroom are thrown wide open.

Cops stream in, rushing the stage to take the gunman into custody. Some head straight for Spider-Man and Pepper, but it’s the guests that catch your attention. There are maybe fifty of them in the room altogether, but applause catches on like wildfire. All of them, and the musicians and the cops at the door, erupt into applause.

Because the man on stage, the man who’d thrown himself at the gunman and disarmed him, the man who had just saved Pepper Potts’ life… was Wilson Fisk.

You can’t find Harry anywhere. Most of the guests had stayed behind out of sheer curiosity, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

You stand out on the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd as the police escort the gunman into a cop car, murmurs flitting from ear to ear on who he’d been, what he’d wanted, and whether they should stay behind for interviews. Pepper was still inside getting questioned. But Wilson Fisk was out here.

You’d been in the same room as Fisk only once before, the night of his infamous press conference three years ago when you were still an intern trailing after the likes of Jillian. He’d struck you as a measured man, one who carried himself with impenetrable humility, and even in the face of his detractors kept a cool head.

Back then, he’d been accused of money laundering, something to do with all his companies not adding up. In and out of trouble, he was. Jameson had likened him to a cockroach: never quite dead, even when he really ought to be by now.

And now he stands before reporters, guests, onlookers, and the like, giving a statement about his “harrowing” rescue of Mrs. Potts. He hadn’t even been invited.

You know you should be right up there with the rest of them, fiending for a soundbite, but you’re gnawing your bottom lip from afar trying to catch him in a lie. Something about this was refusing to add up, and thankful as you were that Pepper was safe, the whole thing was off. Convenient, even.

You watch him smile and nod, none of the charm ever reaching his dead eyes, but everyone eats it up anyway.

Just as you’re about to force yourself to head over, knowing Jameson would have your head otherwise, you’re flying.

“Jesus!” You screech, scrambling to cling onto Spidey as the crowd below watches the two of you swing away. Your stomach drops as he carries you to a nearby rooftop, and you all but collapse when you meet solid ground. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.” You expect a quip in return, but when you look behind you, Spider-Man is sitting with his head on his knees, utterly silent. Your stomach drops again, “Spidey?”

That gets him to look at you, big white eyes narrowing, “We’re not on a first name basis anymore?”

You’re stunned, and then you scowl, “Peter Parker.” When he says nothing, you repeat it, “Peter Parker.”

“That’s his name.”

“His? Or yours?”

His eyes stay narrowed at you, only now his head is lifted upright, “I’m not the only Peter in New York.”

“I’m sorry if I find it a little suspicious there’s a Peter Parker who works at the Daily Bugle selling the only decent photos of you in the city, who just so happens to share your name and- and your lips.” That last part awkwardly tumbles out of you and his eyes are no longer narrowed.

“My lips?”

Peter’s lips flash in your mind. You don’t know how to say it without sounding more suspicious than him, “You’re… you both… your mouths are very similar.”

A beat passes. The silence isn’t enough to convince you you’re wrong, but it is enough to make you fidget.

But then Peter bursts into laughter, and, well, it’s not funny to you at all. “Quit it.” You demand, meek.

“I’m sorry, I just- I stick to walls and you think it’s crazy that we’re both named Peter?”

“You can’t convince me I’m off with this one.”

“There were like… four Peters in my graduating class!”

“He even kind of sounded like you! When I could hear him clearly.”

“He sounds nothing like me!”

“He sounds a lot like you.” You say, and wish that there had been a moment when you’d caught him speaking at an octave higher than his, frankly, forced baritone and an octave below shouting. Peter—this Peter—has a voice you know well enough. You’ve memorized his vocal fry when his voice gets a little too high, that nervous ramble-y pitch of his. It’s so distinct. If you had just… heard him use it just once, “You can’t make me feel crazy about this.”

“’m not trying to make you feel crazy, I swear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’d be skeptical too.” You wait patiently for a confirmation or a denial, but he gives you none. He takes a deep breath and stares out over the edge of the building where Fisk is being escorted to his car. You crawl over to sit beside him.

Part of you wants to ask him to prove it, to peel his mask off and show you, but you can’t make yourself do it. He’d only just given you his name. He trusted you with that. You’re wary about pushing it.

Because the pieces fit so well, but he’d never make that kind of mistake. Would he?

Would he think it was a mistake?

Peter sighs. “Hey, you alright?” You ask.

He doesn’t really look at you, though his voice answers at a lower volume than before, "This was too convenient.” You hum in agreement. “That guy… he said we were all ‘part of it’. Like it was planned.”

“You think Fisk planned it.”

“I think he’s a little too eager to be in the spotlight about it.” But getting that off his chest doesn’t seem to change the solemnness in his tone.

“Pepper was never in danger.” Your hand presses against the scratchy concrete, itching to touch him. To comfort him. “If this was Fisk’s plan, it was all for publicity. Pepper was never gonna get hurt.”

“She got hurt.” Peter whips his head to you.

You knew Iron Man was his mentor, had plucked him off the streets and thrust him into a world of gods and aliens before his untimely death. And maybe with Tony gone, he thought it was his job to keep her safe.

“Peter, you can’t… you can’t think like that. You can punch your way through a lot of things, but that? That back there? You did what you could.”

“I could do more.”

You get that urge to touch him again, only this time, you let yourself do it.

Your hand touches the side of his mask, cupping below his ear. He watches you the entire time but doesn’t move to stop you. Your thumb rests on his cheek and your pinky- it brushes the overlap between his mask and the rest of his suit, “It’s not just that you’re Peter, too.”

You feel the muscles in his neck twitch, “What?”

“It’s that… in all that chaos, you chose to stay behind. To help people. You made sure me and Harry got out, but you stayed behind. Everyone was so busy trying to save their own lives and you were thinking about them. I don’t know Peter Parker very well. Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But I know you. I know if anyone in that room was you, he’d be it.” Peter doesn’t say anything. You feel the tension in his jaw, feel the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you. You stare hard into those white eyes and imagine a someone staring back at you. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of people Spider-Man hangs out with.”

He huffs humorously, “Yeah, that checks out. We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart swells to hear it, “friends”. “Don’t make this about me when I’m trying to expose your secret identity.”

“I think Peter Parker would be flattered you think so highly of him. He was kind of worried he made the wrong impression… after you tried to punch him in the face.”

Your jaw drops, having nearly forgotten in the mess of the night. “Well, maybe Peter Parker shouldn’t go around grabbing people in the dark.”

“You were walking so fast. How else would Peter Parker get your attention?”

“Are you just saying Peter Parker over and over to convince me that you’re both completely different people?”

“I just think it’s funny that you don’t believe more than two Peters can live in the same city.”

“There are other factors!”

“Can’t believe you’re the type of reporter who flies by the seat of their assumptions. But you do work for Jameson, after all.” When Peter stands, you naturally follow.

You decide to switch tactics, bruising the alter ego, “You- you know what? You’re right. You couldn’t be Peter Parker. Peter Parker would be shaking and crying if I so much as raised my voice at him.”

“Wow. I’m gonna tell him you said that—wrap your arms around me?” And he snakes an arm around your waist, sending your heart into overdrive again, “he’s never gonna talk to you again. He’s probably gonna issue a copyright claim every time you put his pics on the Web-Blog, now. Legs too.”

“Wait, no. We are not swinging again. We are taking the stairs.”

“How else am I gonna get you off the roof? Legs, please.”

“We can take the stairs!”

“Door’s probably locked and Kingpin’s already on his way back to his super-secret evil lair. Legs or I’m webbing you up in a baby wrap.”

You grumble. It’s enough to make you grab onto his shoulders and jump, locking your ankles across his back with the fear of gravity instilled in you. You reckoned he’d be fast enough to catch you if you did fall. The very possibility makes you sick to your stomach, though. “Please don’t drop me.”

Peter dips his chin into the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder. "Don't worry," and it's not even that you hear his voice, you just feel it, "I've only dropped someone once."

And you're plummeting off the ledge before you get the chance to run away.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #spider-man #tom holland #marvel #mjwrites #pp; small favor

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mysticstarlightduck · 2 months

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Big OC Questionnaire!

Gonna answer this one before I start today's writing session so here we go! Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet (here)!

Let's go with Adrien Rosetrom and Luke Katt (my ANGSTY bois who I adore) from my WIP Scrapyard Boys for this one! (:

What is your favorite thing to do to avoid responsibility?

Adrien - Eh, that one's pretty easy to answer dude. I just hole up in my apartment, lock the door, turn off the notifications on my phone, and then drink and smoke myself mindless while watching whatever's on TV. Sometimes I like watching the phone ring while not answering it just out of spite, that's fun. And if anyone I don't know tries to interrupt my peace they'll have a very sudden meeting with my baseball bat, if you get what I'm saying.

Luke - I just run off somewhere else until whoever or whatever I'm trying to avoid forgets about me or the dust settles. But that's only in more extreme cases - like if the cops are trying to get me or some gang wants to square up. Otherwise, I'm usually pretty responsible - I mean, I have to be, or else who the fuck is gonna take care of my little brother, or make sure my friends don't do some stupid shit again?

If you could choose anyone in the world to be your sibling who would it be?

Adrien - Don't even ask me that, dude (laughs bitterly). I've already got two half-siblings crashing at my apartment who show no intent on leaving me alone, I don't need anyone else leeching off my patience. (Begrudgingly) Fine, I actually do care for the two ankle-biters but don't let them find out or I'll never hear the end of it, dumbshit.

Luke - I'm not sure. Riley's my little brother and I would do anything to keep him safe - I've killed to protect him before, and I would do it again, even though it landed me in juvie for two years before I broke out. Valen - my best friend - and the other members of our little gang of chaos are also kinda like siblings to me by now, if I'm being fully honest, so there you have it.

What is the most sublime thing you have ever eaten and why?

Adrien - Sublime?! I'm not exactly an expert in high-cuisine, my dude. Most of my diet consists of like... cheap hamburgers, pizza, or nuggets. And a truckload of energy drinks. I guess a good dish of spaghetti with red sauce or a strawberry cupcake is as close as I'm gonna get to eating something "sublime." (chuckles)

Luke - I dunno, I know how to cook quite well but I rarely have like, the time and patience for it. I like microwave lasagna and chocolate cake covered with ganache, which are respectively my favorite dish and my favorite dessert, but that's about it.

What was the worst day of your life?

Adrien - I'm gonna be honest with you real quick: if I were going to answer that question in detail we would still be here talking this at this day and time next week. In short? Pretty much the majority of my days since I was kicked out, though the specific day I was kicked out of home and whenever my current boss decides to get too uh... handsy, for lack of a more 'family-friendly' word, are the runner-ups for Top 1 worst days of my life for sure.

Luke - I know most folks would expect the day I killed my abusive godfather to be the Number 1 Worst Day in my life but if I'm being frank... I kinda enjoyed it? Like really got a kick out of it (smiles widely). I know it sounds twisted and kinda insane to say, but I mean, the fucker had it coming, and knowing that he would never hurt Riley ever again was worth all the struggles that followed. I guess the actual worst day of my life was the day that followed when I was arrested and taken away from my little brother - but hey, I got out, and we're together again! So I say it was worth it.

What’s your worst nightmare?

Adrien - Being trapped in that fucking nightclub forever or being unable to pay off my debt to Zander so I can finally be free without fearing that the mob would skin me alive and feed me to the fishes. And as much as I hate admitting it - I guess now I kinda fear the twins will follow in my footsteps and end up hurt by my boss. It's kinda weird for me to admit and it does trip me out to think about how much I did change. Yeah, I know, I'm that pathetic.

Luke - Losing Riley and our friends, or them getting hurt in some way that I would be unable to heal them with my powers. And I don't fucking care who I have to kill to keep that from happening (laughs)

If a monster asked you your worst nightmare what would you tell it and why?

Adrien - Hell nah, man. I don't need anyone having that kinda power over me and my family, I know how that story ends and it ends with whoever was stupid enough to tell someone else their fears dead in a ditch. Not for me, pal! And let's say, if someone tried to use my fears against me, I would probably make their worst fear come true in the worst way possible, trust me on that.

Luke - Oh the 'monster' would have to spend a fucking fortune to recover from the damage I would do to them. You know I've done it before.

Would you give away secret information if tortured? Be honest.

Adrien - Honestly, I don't think I would give a damn either way but if that information was that important my captors would have one hell of a struggle getting it out of me - I'd probably lead them on with false hope that I'll talk and then don't say shit just so see the look on their faces, like, just to spite them and watch them losing their shit.

Luke - (chuckles darkly) Oh, how I'd love to see them try. If I'm going down, I'm taking their sanity with me, that's for sure.

Who could you trust most with a secret?

Adrien - Myself, and even then like... with a considerable, healthy concern, because you never know!

Luke - Probably my best friend, Valen - I know he would follow me to the depths of hell if need be, and I would do the same for him without a second thought. While I do trust Riley unconditionally, I'm not sure I wanna burden a twelve-year-old with the kind of secrets I keep, y'know.

You have been caught somewhere you shouldn’t be! Quick, what is your excuse?

Adrien - Dude, as if someone would be able to find me. If people were catching me slacking like that, I wouldn't be alive talking to ya right now, given the kind of company I usually keep. So in short: I'm almost always sneaking somewhere I shouldn't, but no one has caught me yet. That I know of.

Luke - Only like, all the time! Me and my friends are just that kind of trouble. Usually, I don't really make up an excuse, I just go "Oh, would you look at the time -", stun whoever found me, and just like, haul ass in the furthest direction as soon as possible.

How good is your sleep schedule?

Adrien - That'd better be a joke because my man you don't wanna know the answer to that. I'm a stripper working for the mob, do the math yourself how fucked up my whole schedule is at night. I usually go home at like, 3AM, on good days, crash on the couch, wake up sometime in the mid-morning if insomnia doesn't come to haunt me, down like three bottles of energy drinks and a cheap coffee, and then rinse and repeat the next day. If I sleep at all.

Luke - It's pretty good, especially when compared to some people I know. I go to sleep at like, 11PM, or 10.30PM, then sleep a solid 6 to 8 hours every day before waking up early. My powers require a lot of rest to recharge, and what kinda healer would I be if I didn't know how to take care of my own body?

Do you have any siblings?

Adrien - Already answered that but alright: I have two, half-siblings. They're twins who might as well be two gremlins coming to haunt my waking life. One's a boy, Rhys, and he's nice and all if his ideas didn't almost give me one heart attack per week, and the other one - the dangerously quiet one that is almost always up to some shady shit if she's out of sight - is a girl named Gwyn. Yes, I regret every life choice that led me to this situation and I'll probably end up grey before thirty.

Luke - Only one biological one, Riley - he's twelve. If you count my best friends then the list gets much longer, haha.

What’s the toughest time you had to endure growing up?

Adrien - Oh my time living old hag of a grandmother wasn't exactly paradise, putting it lightly. The nicest thing she and my grandfather ever did to me was kicking me out of the house at fifteen - and that led to a whole other hellish chapter.

Luke - Oh, you can take your pick. Being orphaned, moving in with our abusive, toxic bitch of a godmother and her husband, having to kill said husband when he got drunk and tried to hurt my kid brother (which would have probably killed Riley if I wasn't there), being arrested, breaking out of jail, helping Riley escape from that woman's house, then finally finding some friends and getting a semblance of normalcy.

What’s your relationship with your family like?

Adrien - Eh. Mother dearest dropped me off with my grandparents, then I got kicked out, and years later my estranged teenage half-siblings broke into my apartment one night and were like "Hey dude! We'll live with you now!". So yeah. Complicated is an understatement, huh.

Luke - Didn't really have a family other than Riley, though now, I would say that our group of friends are actually the closest thing to a real family we've ever had. They're great and honestly, I'm glad we met them!

Do you have any hobbies? If so, what ones?

Adrien - Watching TV, listening to music, sleeping. Drinking energy drinks. Smoking. Wandering around in the city thinking about what the fuck I'm doing with my life and having a breakdown --

Y'know, the usual.

Luke - I like sneaking into the movies when I can. I also love skateboarding, dancing, and playing the guitar. Oh, and watching those funny morning cartoons on TV, while eating cereal!

Do you dream often?

Adrien - Most nights, though they're usually not the coolest dreams. I usually wake up and like, turn on the TV to drown it out until I collapse back to sleep.

Luke - Eh, not really. And when I do I usually don't really remember them or they are just the... most unhinged, concerning, weirdest dreams that leave me thinking "Yep, I have seriously issues, huh" when I wake up, haha.

What do you dream about?

Adrien - Uh - Nope! Not answering that one for the sake of your peace of mind and what's left of my own pride.

Luke - When I do remember? Man, stuff like - a T-Rex dancing ballet while hopping in multicolored clouds in the sky, or some kind of weird gremlin creature following me through a musty hallway while singing "Peanut Butter Jelly Time!". Now you get what I meant by concerning?

Have you ever been in love?

Adrien - Romance is the oldest lie of all time, my friend, and its not one I'm that keen to fall for either. I'm gonna fall in love for what? To get disappointed? Nah, man, I'm good.

Luke - Not really, like in real life and stuff. I had a crush on some movie stars and pop singers when I was younger, but that's just teenage dreams, haha. I actually really want to meet someone I would fall in love with in real life, as cheesy as that sounds! I may be a killer, but I'm a killer who still wants a fairytale wedding with someone just as weird as me.

What is your least favorite thing in the world?

Adrien - Sex with strangers. The mob. My boss. People who put their hands where they don't belong because they're drunk and apparently I'm "supposed to like it". Stupid fuckers who bully others. Just the usual.

Luke - Abusive people. Rich people who think they can do whatever they want to others who are not as rich as them. The police and the shitty government of this shitty city.

What is your pet peeve?

Adrien - People who aren't hygienic or are just like... downright nasty and clearly need a good shower. Loud music. I also kinda hate how Gwyn chooses to watch a cheesy stand up comedy show on my TV at full blast in the morning and eating those crunchy potato chips on my couch which causes the crumbs to be everywhere, because -- FUCK'S SAKE SHE'S AT IT AGAIN HOLD ON - (gets up, running to his living room done with life)

Luke - People who don't look me - or others - in the eye while talking or who keep checking their smartwatch or phone in the middle of the conversation and then just answer you like "uhuh" or "yeah, that's wild". Like, yeah Karen, I'm fucking aware you didn't hear a single word that left my mouth and the fact I wasted five minutes trying to talk to you makes me wanna strangle that bad haircut out of your head.

Would you consider yourself different?

Adrien - Different than what? Everyone's unique in their own way. And I ain't about to be no "pick-me" dude that's always like "Oh, I'm so quirky, look how different I am from all the other bland humans", or like dramatically, "I'm just weird, you wouldn't get me". Hell nah.

Luke - I guess I am kinda different than most teens my age. Because like, let's be honest, who else do you know that has killed someone at fourteen, has extreme regeneration powers, and undermines the government with a group of other fucked up teenagers? Though I don't know if this is a good or bad thing, that's too philosophical of a question to answer.

How far would you go to save a loved one?

Adrien - I may be a heartless bitch but I would actually go pretty damn far to keep those twins safe. Like, for example - hypothetically: Does the mob want to "upgrade" my job from stripper to whore in exchange for their safety? Uncomfortable but yeah, fine, I'd do it. Do I need to beat up someone who is threatening my siblings? Oh, yeah, that someone is gonna wake up with their face smushed in by my baseball bat. Do I need to blackmail a billionaire who basically owns the country (this one I actually did so its not hypothetic)? Sure, I've done weirder shit before.

So you get the idea. I may be vicious, but I ain't disloyal.

Luke - I've killed a man with my bare hands, and I would do it again, and again, and again, if I needed to. And I don't regret it one bit. Do I need to say more? (smiles dangerously, with that feral guard dog aura to him)

Would you team up with your worst enemy if it was your only option?

Adrien - I kinda already do that every day already, so yeah, sure. Fuck it, we'll be besties and braid each other's hair if I get to live another day, I don't give a shit.

Luke - Oh hell no, I'd rather they just put a bullet through my brains than ever team up with those fuckers.

What is the worst insult you can give?

Adrien - I already swear like a sailor on a daily basis, so I have a pretty wide dictionary of insults. But I ain't sure what would be the worst one, and I don't got enough time to figure that out either.

Luke - (Tilts his head, with a smirk) I think littering their body with wounds using my power would get the message across better than any words ever could, don't you think?

What is the nicest thing someone could say to you?

Adrien - I dunno. Like, I'm not a sentimental kinda dude, but I think I would be pretty fucking happy if someone just acknowledged that I'm doing my best. I think hearing an earnest, "Hey, dude, you matter to me!" with no strings attached actually would be pretty nice.

Luke - I'm not quite sure (chuckles awkwardly). I guess that just being loyal and kind and spending quality time with me - just like, actually being there when I need someone, would matter more to me than any words ever could.

Are you a jealous person?

Adrien - Oh hell yeah, you bet your ass I am!

Luke - Not really. I don't like being betrayed or deceived, but other than that I think I'm a pretty chill dude. I'd hate to be overbearing.

Have you ever committed a crime?

Adrien - Yeah, all the time. How else would I get by in this stupid rathole of a city I'm stuck in huh? And working for the mob, committing crimes kinda does come with the territory, in a way.

Luke - (laughs drily) Are you seriously asking me that question?

Are you neat or messy?

Adrien - I ain't got the time or patience to be organized, so I guess messy it is. Not dirty though, I hate dirt. Just chaotically disorganized.

Luke - I guess I'm pretty organized, now that I think about it. Not over-the-top, interior designer-like organized, but at least a bit above the bare minimum most days.

How do you feel about crying? Let it out or hold it in?

Adrien - Cry? Nah. I just hold it in like a pressure cooker, laugh it off, drink my sorrows away until I collapse on the floor of my kitchen, wake up with the worst hangover of my life, and then be like "Let's go get some fast food!" like nothing happened.

Luke - It's normal and healthy, I just don't do it very often or in front of others. I like to be the rock they can rely on, and so I usually don't.... burden them with my feelings unless I have to. I cry quite often when I'm alone and the stress gets to me.

Who do you live for? Why?

Adrien - Myself, because throughout this shitty life, I've been pretty much the only one I can trust. (sighs) And yeah, fine, now I live for the twins too, because like it or not I really fucking care about those two gremlins, probably more than I should.

Luke - For my little brother, Riley, and our group of friends.

What style of accessories do you wear? Is it willingly?

Adrien - I like sunglasses, earrings, actual rings, and occasionally a necklace or two. I also like simple makeup - not the glittery one that makes my eyes water with allergies and Zander likes so fucking much - just like, eyeliner, nail polish, lip gloss. I may be broke but I like to look stylish when I can. My personal style is willing. The gaudy and glittery accessories and persona I put on for Zander's stupid show? That shit's not really willing but I don't get a choice, now do I?

Luke - I have a lot of tattoos, most of them on my arms. I also love wearing metal rings with cool designs, and leather and plastic bracelets, and I have a few, small ear piercings. It's willing, and I like having control of my style. It gives me certainty about my personality and I adore that.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @finickyfelix

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid,

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

#wip scrapyard boys #oc: luke katt #oc: adrien rosetrom #big character questionnaire #oc questionnaire #writeblr #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #my wips #writerblr #my characters #character writing #my writing

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silent-raven13 · 1 year

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Quenepas!

(If ya'll never try Quenepas/Mamones/Mamoncillos or in English term Spanish Limes, ya'll are missing out. They are so good! 🤤)

(Warning: Hobie 18 and Miles is 17 and they do a bit of touching. I put a warning bc I know some readers don't like reading high school stuff like this. You been warned.)

"It's amazing my brother was able to find a whole bulk of Quenepas!" Rio smiles widely having one of her favorite fruits in the sink to wash them, "These are amazing healthy snack for you papi!"

Jeff saw the two large boxes of Spanish Limes, "Wow, there's a lot of these things. Are you sure we can finish this?"

"Mi amor, I've been carving for these for the longest." Her small baby bump shows her three month pregnancy. "and they are a way better snack than your donuts."

"You know, not all cops like donuts." Jeff pouts at his wife.

His wife side eye him, "I know you eat at least five of those Dunkin' donuts. You need to start watching what you eat! You're gonna be having another kid and you need to be able get old till you're eighty!" She went to fix her husband's Chief uniform, noticing his tie being off. "You have to be ready for this long journey." She smiles.

"I know. I know. I'll pack some." The middle age man said having to rub his neck, "But will that cancel out a burger?"

"Jeff! How about a salad! Look I already pack your lunch." She handed him, his lunch bag, "The doctor said you need to watch your cholesterol and blood pressure. Less fat, and more greens."

"Awwwe, but is burger Wednesday!"

His wife gave him the death glare that made him shut up real quick. "Okay, Salad Wednesday! I'll eat all this, baby. Love you." He nervously said giving a kiss on the cheek. "Your always right."

"That's what I like to hear!" She smirks widely in approval.

Miles came out of his room being surprised from the boxes of his favorite fruit. "Whoa! Tío brought all these! Yummy!" He happily went over to the clean batches to take one, he first bite around the hard peel then pop the round fruit to suckle on it. "Mmm, so good!"

Quenepas are these green oval balls covered in a thin layer with an orange transparent pulp wrapped around the seed inside. It has a sweet citrus lime taste perfect for the summer, it's refreshing and addicting to eat by its unique flavor. Miles love them so much he tends to eat most of the bag without a thought. It's so delicious that him and his mom always ask their relatives to buy bulks in areas around heavy Puerto Rican/Latinos fruit sellers.

Luckily Miles' uncle was able to find a good deal with two boxes full of Quenepas! Now, he can eat them without worrying about leaving some to his mom. "Mmm, these are so good!" He hops up and down finish suckling the pulp leaving the seed, spitting it out to throw it in the trash.

Rio happily eats one, "These are better than the last bulk. Your tío knows how to pick them. Now, I'ma take some for work. Miles, there's leftovers from last night and pizza from Thursday, okay? If you want to order food tu papà left money on the table."

"Twenty five dollars, right here, son!" Jeff put the cash on the dinning table.

"Okay, thanks dad." Miles smiles being happy he's all alone today. The perfect Saturday, where he can be Spider-man for the day and night just chill.

"Okay, I gotta head to work. See you guys later. Rio take it easy at work. You're pregnant remember." Jeff kisses his wife on the cheek.

"I know. I know." Rio laughs then kisses her husband's cheek. "Bye, mi amor." Then she went over to give Miles hugs and kisses, "Bye, mi vida. Mi bebé!"

"Mamí!" Miles getting his mother's kisses being smothered.

"Be good, okay! Also lock the doors and don't go to the fire escape!"

Miles rolled his eyes. After his parents left, he ate his breakfast and finished his report early. Then he went to spend all day as Spider-man, fighting off some villains here and there. It was a simple day, when he got home he took the twenty five dollars to put in his wallet. If he doesn't order anything with it, his dad let him have it for safe keeping.

The seventeen year old got a bowl of his favorite fruits to enjoy for the night. "Gonna watch some Full Metal Alchemist with some chips, soda and Quenepas!" He happily skips over to his couch and grab his remote to turned on his television to put on his stream. He sips on his soda, "Mmm."

He wore a white tank top with some lime green shorts being barefoot with his hairy legs kicking back and forth. "Mmm, these are so good." He suckles on his favorite fruit.

Unaware of someone coming inside through Miles' fire escape window, with heavy thick combat boots stepping inside with a heavy thud. Miles relax in the living room watching his favorite show and texting Ganke about the episode he finished. "Episode was dope. I'ma try to finish the season tonight."

Ganke texted him with a smiley face. The figure walks carefully not triggering Miles' spidey sense, but his other senses, "Baby, what are you trying to do?"

"Awe, I thought I was giving you a scare, luv." His punker boyfriend pout at him.

"Your boots always makes a loud sound. I'm Spider-man for a reason, bae." His Sunflower's doe eyes looks up at him with a small smirk on his face.

"Yeah, you're right. And you possibly knew I was coming by, huh?" Hobie jumps over the couch to sit next to his cute boyfriend. The cushions bouncy up and down making Miles move his bag of chips away from his boyfriend's side.

Hobie grins widely as he lay on his Miles, "Duh, you're my boyfriend. I know, you always want to visit me whenever I'm free or my parents aren't around." His cute darling smirks at him while eating an odd fruit.

"Darling, what are you eating?" Hobie asked being confused.

Miles set his empty glass bottle of cola on the ground, his mouth suckling the sweet citrus fruit, "Quenepas!"

"What?"

"Quenepas! Oh right, that's what Puerto Ricans call these. Um... I think Central Americans call them Mamones." Miles pointed out, as he let Hobie hold the small oval shape fruit. "They're like little gum balls."

"Yeah, and you call them what? Queen-Quene-passe?" Hobie tries to pronounce the word. His fingers hold the fruit like a piece of gem to study it.

"Quenepas! Jamaicans called them, Ginep or Guenepa."

"Ooh, I've heard of these before." Hobie heard it from his childhood friends that use to visit their relatives in Jamaica. "I never tried them."

"Make sense, these are mostly from the Americans. You wanna try it?" Miles asked.

"Yes, luv. How do you eat it?"

"Easy. You just do this," His boyfriend put half of the oval shape fruit in his mouth, he snuck his teeth hard enough to rip open the thick leather-like cover. "Then, you just open the half part." He uses his mouth to take off the peel to reveal the pretty pulp. "This is the pulp, the good part and it covers the seed. So you just pop it in your mouth and suck on it."

"Suck on it?" Hobie's face froze, he turns pink thinking of dirty thoughts.

"Yeah," His boyfriend being naive as always with his honey-brown eyes glued on his show. "These taste like sweet limes. So good. Try it!"

Hobie hold his fruit in his hand to do what Miles did. First, he bit around the peel then pull it away. His dark eyes saw the light orange pulp covering the seed, his mouth opens wide as he pops it inside.

Miles watches his boyfriend's eyes lit up by the fruit. "Good, huh?"

"Luv, these are delicious. It got that bitter taste to it from the lime, too."

"Right, it gives it a nice flavor!" Miles spit the seed out of his mouth to put it in a separate bowl were all the discarded seeds and peels went to. "These are one of my favorite fruits."

"Mmm," Hobie spit the seed out of his mouth letting his tongue tingle by the sour sweet taste of the fruit. It's delicious, but not as delicious as watching his Sunflower suckling on them. The way his beautiful plump lips pucker as he eats the fruit. This gives Hobie an idea, a delightful idea that a wide smirk spread on his face.

"Sunflower, these are good, but I want to try something with these?" The eighteen year old punker hold another fruit quickly opening the peel to put the fruit in his mouth.

"What?" Miles face his boyfriend being caught off guard by Hobie's lips. "Mmmm!" Honey brown eyes widen when he felt his boyfriend's tongue and the Quenepas rolling around between they're tongues.

"Mmm," Hobie groans as he got on top of his Sunflower as they have a heated make out.

Miles' cheeks felt warm being bashful, almost turned on as his tongue plays around with Hobie's. They were still in the beginning of their relationship, so tongue kissing isn't something Miles is good at. He's still shy about their heated kisses and hand holding, because he believes Hobie can do so much better without him.

Their first kiss wasn't as romantic as Miles wanted it to be, because of his lack of experience Hobie gave him a peck on the lips. From the beginning all they did was a simple kiss on the cheek or hand hold, all because the Black Latino isn't use to anything else. This made him more upset with himself, he wants to prove he can try new things instead of being coddle or treated like a delicate little flower. He wants to be daring, sexy and pleased his boyfriend the same way he does with him.

Their tongues play with the fruit having drool coming down their corner of their lips, the sweet taste of the fruit gave a euphoric pleasure running through their bodies. "Ohhh," Miles groans in the back of their throat, "Mmm."

"Mmm," Hobie purrs, letting his tongue flap around his pretty Sunflower's delicious mouth. Their plump lips suckle on the fruit letting their tongues push the seed back and forth. The sounds of their lips smacking got their bodies hot, their lower region a bit harder.

Miles' tongue was a bit weaker, more submissive than Hobie's dominant mouth. His boyfriend is hungry for him, so hungry, Miles could hear his heart beating rapidly. Their Spidey senses kicking high gear, it's nothing they ever felt before.

They could feel it trying to bond with one another, understand each other without saying a word. It's like their Spider senes are communicating based on instincts. Miles' eyes met dark beautiful brown eyes as if they were trying to understand that each other in a much deeper level. They could feel their Spider senses clicking after Hobie gently let Miles take over their kiss.

Click.

Miles'a own hands pulled Hobie into that deep kiss again, this time his teeth nibbling on his man's bottom lip. Their Spider senses now in tune. "Mmm!" They felt their cheeks warm, Miles' eyes being teary from all the feel good pleasure and want from his partner. His legs wrapped around Hobie's waist, letting his hips grind against him.

The punker's hands gripping on couch trying to support himself while Miles' hands wrapped around his face. They keep kissing till they felt the need to pull away. "Mmm!" They both moan again, the sound of the couch and television play in their ears.

Their teeth would nibble a bit of their lips and tongue. Miles felt Hobie's teeth sinking in a bit harder making him shiver with delight. That feels good. The young teenager tries to copy every movement to get better at kissing, he was tired of pecks and small kisses. He wants this.

When Hobie finally pulled away to catch his breath, he could feel his crotch hard, his breathing heavy. Their tongues left a trail of salvia as Miles lay his head on the couch with his teeth holding the seed. The sight of the young Spider-man's swollen plump lips being wrapped around the seed was to tempting for Hobie.

It made him want to do something more. "Hobie..." Miles muffled his words.

"Luv?" Hobie leans over to kiss his cheek, "I overdid, didn't I."

Feeling Hobie's warm breath on his left ear made Miles shudder again. "Mm-Mm." He shook his head. Their bodies were needing each other, they were begging to go further, but- There is always a but, Miles wasn't ready.

Hobie can tell his precious Sunflower is nervous. After all, this is their first time tongue kissing like this. "Miles..." He finally said before he sat back up to help his Sunflower sit back up.

The seventeen year old spit out the clean seed in his hand, he felt bashful, again. "Hobie, we kissed!"

"We always kiss, luv."

"No, we... tongue kiss." He shyly said, "My lips feel weird." He touch them feeling the soft soreness, it doesn't hurt.

"Heh, did you like it?"

Miles turns to him, "Hobie, I wanna kiss like that again!" Then he pouts, "But its okay we only take it slow."

"Sunflower," Hobie's hand caress his beautiful boyfriend's cheek, "You can take as long as you want."

Miles' eyes gleams with love, he quickly took another Quenepas with the peel off. Popping the fruit in his mouth. Then tackle down his boyfriend for another kiss. "Your mine, Hobie Brown!"

"That's what I like to hear, luv." Hobie purrs as they kiss again.

Ever since that day, Quenepas had became Hobie's favorite fruit.

#hobie brown #punkflower #miles morales #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #punk flower fanfic #punk flower #punkflower fanfic #flowerpunk #flower punk #flower punk fanfic #spider man #spiderverse #atspv #hobie x miles #miles x hobie

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bigupsdog · 6 months

Text

Intro dialog for every Guilty Gear character day 3: Johnny

Sol: Your bounty is high enough to pay for my trip to the moon three times over.

Johnny: You ain't the first person to try to claim that bounty, you ain't gonna be the last.

Ky: You were also orphaned by the Crusades?

Johnny: That bloody war took many a good man's life.

May: When are you going to let me pilot the May Ship again?

Johnny: The last time I let ya drive her ya nearly crashed into Illyria Castle.

Axl: Out of curiosity what's the craziest thing you've ever stolen?

Johnny: Alright, now I wont say which, but one of the Kings of Illyria’s crown is a fake, if you know what i'm saying.

Chipp: Come on, you're wearing all black and you wield a katana, just take the full plunge and become a ninja.

Johnny: Sorry buddy, but if I became a ninja, I would just be too cool for the world to handle.

Potemkin: I'm here to retrieve stolen property from Zepp.

Johnny: What are you talking about? I haven't taken anythin from you guys… recently.

Faust: How’s… May’s… Condition???

Johnny: She’s doing a lot better thanks to you, Doc.

Milia: I work for the government now, so I have to take you in.

Johnny: I’m sure ya asked for this job personally, to see good old Johnny.

Zato: This is nothing personal, I'm just doing my job.

Johnny: And when I cut ya down, it also won't be anythin personal.

Ram: I'm confused, I thought pirates were supposed to be in the ocean, not the sky.

Johnny: Ya don't have to have such strict definitions for everythin sometimes a spade is just a spade.

Leo: A lawbreaker stands before me, and I will be the mighty judge, jury and executioner.

Johnny: I’m startin to think this ain’t no jury of my peers.

Nago: Your swordsmanship, it reminds me of samurai from ages past.

Johnny: You lookin to relive some of your glory days? Because I'm more than willin to help.

Gio: Look I have my orders to take you in, but I still owe you one, so even if I win I'll just say you gave me the slip.

Johnny: Ah that's sweet, looks like it ain't a dog eat dog world after all.

Anji: Steal from the rich, give to the poor, you’re a real Ishikawa Goemon.

Johnny: First time I heard that one, normally I get Robin Hood.

I-No: Don't even try it lover boy, I'm way out of your league.

Johnny: Damn, and I had a great witch related pick up line and everything.

Goldlewis: Outlaws like you give us cowboys a bad name.

Johnny: Nah, lawmen like you ruin the real spirit of the cowboy.

Jack-O: Is that a cowboy costume? Shouldn't you have a gun not a sword?

Johnny: It ain't no costume, I'm the bona-fide real thing.

HC: Ah the showdown, the best part of any western movie.

Johnny: In a quick draw it all comes down to who's faster, unfortunately for you.

Baiken: Put that sword down, you ain't no damn samurai.

Johnny: Cowboy, pirate, samurai, what can I say I have a lot of feathers in my cap.

Testament: I hear you've adopted many an orphaned child from the Crusades.

Johnny: I'd like to think your old man Kliff woulda been proud of me.

Bridget: Your bounty is HOW MUCH!!!

Johnny: Run along now lass, bounty hutin ain't nothin you want to involve yourself with.

Sin: Hey man, your ship looked so cool while I was riding next to it on a dragon!

Johnny: You did what now?

Delilah: Your ship was nice… um, thanks for letting me ride in it.

Johnny: Ah much alleged, good old Johnny's always willin to lend a helpin hand.

Asuka R#: I am not the real “That Man” I am simply a clone.

Johnny: So the coward made a fake to hide from his past, I see how it is.

Asuka R Kreutz: I am deeply sorry for all the pain my past actions have caused.

Johnny: Ah ain't that sweet, ya apologized, to one person who you helped make an orphan, what about all the rest?

Elphelt: Is that a noble outlaw, coming to steal this fair maiden's heart?

Johnny: Normally I'm the one who uses the cheesy pick up line, feels weird, the shoe being on the other foot.

ABA: Your ship is a whale, yet you didn't paint it blue, what is wrong with you?

Johnny: I didn't paint the May Ship, she was just born that way.

#guilty gear #intro dialog #johnny guilty gear

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n3tworksucks · 2 years

Note

getting high w Quackity maybe ?? 👀

MAYBE YES??👀

ALSO I DONT KNOW MUCH AB GETTING HIGH SO I HAD TO ASK MY DAD FOR SOME INFORMATION LOL

word count; 964

warnings; drug use, umm idk

-hes never gotten high before

- he said that before

- he knew you liked to get high every once in a while

- like you'd go on the balcony and smoke for a while

- or you'd make pot brownies

- and he's never really thought about doing it

- but because he started to sit with you on the balcony and watch you eat the brownies

-he got more curious

- but he wouldn't ask to take a puff of your blunt or ask for a bite of your brownie

- he'd just wait till you asked if he wanted to try

-and you've asked before but he'd lightly shake his head no not thinking about how it would feel to be high

- he knew the main parts on what its like being high

- like blood shot eyes or feeling dizzy

-but everyone says it and he just wasn't interested in feeling like that

- but now he's starting to rethink

- so now when you're both sitting on the chairs on the balcony at 2a.m, he looks between you and the blunt in-between your fingers

- looking at you place it between your lips

- he wasn't trying to look like he wanted to try

- but you could tell he wanted something

you look up at the night sky, not a whole lot of noise going on except the crickets and the occasional dog bark. you hadn't been out here on the balcony smoking for long but long enough for you to feel something.

you had your boyfriend next to you, he had recently started coming out with you, even though he didn't really like the smell. but he wanted to come to see if he could try, but he's not gonna ask, he'll wait for you to ask. but the other times you've both come out, hes been acting a little different, not in a bad way but more of a curious way, an observed way. and you noticed before, you noticed when he'd look at you more when you take a drag. so this time you wanted to ask if he wanted to try even though you thought he'd say no you still ask. you look over to him with slight red eyes," you wanna try this time?" you ask, slightly holding out. When you asked him if he wanted to try he'd usually say no immediately, but this time he waited a second to answer, looking at the lit blut in-between your thumb and your index finger. "Sure" he said slowly and you pass him the blunt. "you know how?" you asked, making sure he'd do it right "kinda- like I've seen people do it" he said a little unsure. " ok so you fill your mouth with smoke. then take a long deep breath oh air, then exhale kinda quickly" you tried explaining the best you could, but with you being under the influence didn't make you explain the best. so he took the information he had then hesitantly put it between his lips and tried taking a drag, but before he could do the rest of the steps he started coughing really bad. covering his mouth with his arm as he kept coughing, not sounding like he'd stop anytime soon, you started laughing a bit. like if someone were to walk out on their balcony they would probably think someone was choking and some cruel person was just laughing at him. still laughing, you reach over to your side and grab a bottle of water that you had brought out and hand it to him, he quickly grabs it and starts drinking it. about a minute goes by and he finally calmed down, he gives the blunt back and shakes his head, a little light headed as well, saying he can't do it. but you have and idea."Well, do you wanna try a brownie?" you ask and he says yeah, because why not I guess. so you go inside real quick to get one brownie to share, you come back out, and carefully split it in half, giving him one half. it was a rather small brownie and before he can comment on it you say something first "I know its small but a little goes a long way" you tell him. "oh" he says. you take small bites of yours, savoring the tast. "do i just eat it whole?" he asks. you giggle a bit realizing how clueless he is."you can i guess" you say and he eats it.

time goes by, but you zoned out for a while not knowing how much time went by."yo" he said looking at you with now red eyes"this is cool" he says as he laughs a little and looks around at the same time. it was his first time getting high so he was a little lightweight.

"I know" you say, smiling. "whats it feel like?" you ask, wanting to see how it feels for him

"like.. im floating i dunno man" he says putting his arms behind his head and relaxes in the chair. "it feels good though" he says, "maybe we can do it again next time" he suggested. "yeah" you agree "and I'll have to show you how to smoke too" you said remembering the way he failed, making you laugh."are you laughing at me?" he said acting offended. "yeah"you said straight up, catching him off guard a little, expecting you to cover it up somehow "oh" he said, also starting laughing "wooow" he said dramatically. a few minutes go by."I love you" he said now sounding tired. "I love you too, baby" you say, tiredness also growing on you."you wanna go to bed?", you ask and he nods. you both get up tidying up the little mess you made outside and going in, then going to bed.

#quackity #quackityhq #quackity imagines #quackity x reader #high quackity???

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whomstress · 9 months

Text

What it Takes to Feel Real (Part 3)

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Finally, what you've all been waiting for!

Sorry it took so long, been sick and work has been weird. Also gonna be honest not have as much muse to write as I did when I first got into this ship. So other fics will be slower but still got a lot I want to write with these two so you'll get more!

Buckle up y'all most sweetest and angst one yet but also happy ending,

Parenthood was as regular as it could be in the digital world. Caine said Marionette didn’t technically need to eat or sleep, but she was a “fully functioning baby," whatever that meant, so she regularly cried for both.

Of course, even with every supply handed to them when they needed it, having a baby they were unprepared for was overwhelming. Caine had made them a large room with both a main bedroom and a very cartoon-designed baby room, but even then, it felt like there was very little space to breathe at times. Ragatha, as always, tried to handle things with a bright smile, letting as much as she could roll over her shoulders. Which worked for the most part, but Marionette was what Ragatha would call a “grumpy baby” and Jax would call a “hell spawn” when she was upset.

Their baby was lovely and could be the sweetest little angel there was, but taking care of her at times could also be a new kind of torment. She had the temper of a bull and wouldn’t eat or sleep if she was upset for any reason. In fact, the first time she laughed was after she bit Jax, who held a finger in her face. Ragatha expected Jax to get even more upset, but something changed in that moment.

It had been a long day. Longer than most. Ragatha and Jax were exhausted. Marionette was beyond fussy today, and it seemed nothing they did pacified her. But then she laughed. Not a little smile or cute squeak, a genuine laugh. Little giggles erupted from her so much, causing her whole body, no bigger than a foot, and a half to shake completely in joy. A yellow smile stretched from ear to ear.

They both stopped in silence, and Ragatha was the first to break happy tears leaking from her eyes watching her baby so happy. She wiped a tear seeing and quickly came over, giving her daughter a kiss, and looked back at Jax to see him still shocked until a quick glance at Ragatha and then a back to his daughter, still cracking up like it’s the funniest thing to ever happen in her life. And to be fair, she is only 9 months old, so that's very possible.

A smile broke out on his face, matching the size of hers, and he lifted her high in the air, making her laugh and starting a new giggle fit. "Oh, you think that’s funny, you little Gremlin? I knew we shouldn't have fed you after midnight!” He brought her back down to his face, nuzzling their non-existent noses together as she gently cupped his face with her tiny hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up, she chuckles. You’re just lucky you're my literal baby, or I’d get you back for that already.”

He looked back at Ragatha, who was laughing now too, and he smirked, pulling his baby back down to his chest and finally starting to settle a little. “Oh yeah? Bet you both think my pain is the funniest thing in the world, don’t you?”

She wiped a tear from her face and shrugged. “Weelll it is funny; this is the first thing that made her laugh, you gotta admit.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I can’t get her back. But, y'know, that doesn’t extend to you, right?”

Ragatha's face dropped at the almost dangerous smirk that came across his face. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Ragatha then turned around and ran for the door, but before she could get a few steps away, a long arm grabbed her by her waist, pulling her off the ground against his side, and she yelled, trying to wiggle out of his grasp as it headed for the shared bedroom.

A yell could be heard down the hall: "Jax, wait! Jax, Jax, JAX!!!” Along with the loud laughter of a small baby.

Everything changed after that. Jax, though a very hands-on father considering his situation, always held their daughter emotionally at arm's length. Even if it wasn’t obvious to anyone else, Ragatha could see it from a mile away. He’d always been very protective of her glaring daggers at Kinger or Gangle if they even reached a hand under his baby, and when he held her, it was close to his chest. But there was always something off there. Something nearly invisible. The way he’d had her off to Ragatha as soon as she was done with her nap. He'd never allow himself to smile more than a moment when she reached out to him or snuggled in his arms. The way his eyes would dart as if he were trying to escape at any sign of her not being human.

All of these reactions would pass by in a second, snapping his mask back on as quickly as it fell when he realized he had allowed himself to slip. It was almost like he was correcting himself for a bad habit.

But after her laugh, the change was abundant, as anyone with eyes could see. He still called her nicknames like “chewbacca” and "gremlin,” but now there were sweeter ones in the mix, like “little wisecracker” or occasionally “bunnydoll.” Ragatha once heard him, in what he thought he was in private, say, “Excussse me, princess!” When she was being fussy and the way her heart warmed and lit up, it was basically a second

The one semi-downside to this was that Marionette became Daddy's little girl with a snap of the hand. Jax would take her on his hijinx and pranks, and even though she was only months new to this world, Ragatha swore she understood more than she should from the way she laughed and hung on to every word Jax said. It was adorable to see a mini-him he was so proud of, but she had also regularly started pulling hair and giving the sweetest baby face before causing some sort of trouble and then laughing like there was no tomorrow. The first time she tricked Gangle to come closer into a hug only to knock off her comedy mask, Jax grabbed her out of Ragatha’s arms, raising her high into the air and congratulating her on doing the prank “just like they planned.” It was cute, of course, but Ragatha would be lying if she said the upcoming prankster/menace like Jax added to the tent was definitely going to cause a lot of headaches.

Despite the fact that everything was going great, Ragatha and Jax were happy, and it felt like nothing could go wrong. But there is a curse in saying those words. As if just the thought of them was not an acknowledgement of the good times but a warning that things were about to change for the worse.

As a fully functioning baby, it would be unnatural for Marionette not to get a cold. Or so Caine explained. Ragatha understood Caine was just trying to make everything more accurate, and the AI never intentionally meant anything harmful. Some of the things he did were just that.

A sick baby like Marionette, though Ragatha hated to say it, was hell on earth. Almost every time she was up, she was screaming until she fell asleep again. And boy did she scream loudly. One way to occasionally get her quiet was to feed her, but she had no appetite, so that didn’t work either. She didn’t need to eat like the rest of them, but she sure liked to. She ate just as regularly as a human baby would, so after days of not even accepting a single drop of milk, it started to feel very odd, despite neither of her parents talking about the elephant in the room.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. As time went on, strange things started happening to her that they couldn’t quite ignore anymore. She was on some sort of fixed schedule. It was literal clockwork. Starting at 12 a.m., she’d wake up every two hours to cry and stop, seeming drowsy for 30 minutes. 10 minutes after that bathroom time, cry another 20 times, go back to sleep for another perfectly timed 3 hours, wake up, and start the routine again. It was unnerving to say the least, but with how hectic everything was, it at least gave them time to plan, and being so busy gave them little time to dwell.

That was until one day the worst of her cold hit. Ragatha and Jax were trying to calm her down, hearts breaking at their distressed princess. They were about to go to Caine to finally stop all this, unable to handle it anymore. When something in Marionette shifted. She started heating up to inhuman temperatures, like hot metal, and could only be held by a thick blanket. Her cries started to make strange, high- and low-pitched noises, and Ragatha could swear steam started to roll off her. Jax ran out of the room to find Caine as Ragatha tried to keep herself together while being the most scared she’s ever been in her life, praying this would be solved soon. Then it happened: she reached her peak, and she went completely still with her eyes open for a moment before, within her eyes, two blue-like screens played an ERROR message and a small dial tone coming from her. Ragatha could only stand there in horror without a single thought as her baby lay still in her arms, slowly cooling down.

Caine and Jax popped into the room, and Ragatha could only look up at Jax’s shocked face, finally feeling hot tears run down her eyes, not paying attention to Caine making some ludicrous joke at a time like this, and with a snap of his fingers, their baby was back to normal, sleeping peacefully in her arms, snuggling back to Ragatha. “Oopsie Daisy! I guess that bug was a little too strong for the little one! Well, I rebooted her, so just give it. Hmmmmmm, 2 hours and 72 minutes? She’ll be right as newly rendered low poly rain! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Caine popped away, and the two were left alone in the room, silent, left in ruins. Ragatha looked relief and dread at her daughter sleeping soundly in her arms, her lips starting to wobble, and tears streaming down more violently.

She looked up to Jax in a moment of desperation, seeing his bloodshot eyes looking like he was focused on what was right in front of him and something far beyond here.

“Jax,” she whispered. And then louder when he didn’t respond. His eyes shot at her, and it made her go quiet.

His face contorted into something hideous before snapping back to an unreadable expression. The mask was shifting back on, separating him from this moment. “She’s going to finish rebooting at 3 exactly. Put her in the crib, and I’ll get the diapers and food ready if she even needs them anymore. I *#(@^&* told you Rags. She’s not real.”

Ragatha's breath hitches, ready to fight even in this state, but before she can even open her mouth, he turns, kicking the door open and nearly knocking it off its hinges. Leaving Ragatha to suffer alone.

There was a long thought of following him, scared more than anything that if she didn't, he really wouldn’t come back. But Marionette liked to wiggle like a little worm when she slept, leaving them to wrap her in a swaddle so as not to turn over. So, the moment Ragatha felt her start moving enough to potentially fall, her instincts kicked in, pulling her daughter closer to her and remembering the need to keep her safe above anything else at any moment. Even in a situation as harsh as this one.

It was only about 20 minutes before Jax came back, and Ragatha needed comfort at this miserable time. Old habits die hard, and she put him first, allowing Jax to take as much time as he needed alone. When he came back with the supplies, she resisted the urge to jump into his arms and take the comfort only he had been able to truly give her.

“...Did you get everything?” Ragatha still couldn’t help herself from needing at least a bit of his attention the second he walked in. She should be filled with relief. He’s back, but he’s so silent, still with a dazed look, that even when he stares right into her eyes, it’s like he doesn't see her. “Jax?”

She calls again to get him to focus, and he nods after a long pause, and something in her breaks as she runs to him, forcing her way into his arms. Holding so tight to his overalls, she shoved herself into his purple fur. She doesn’t even care if he doesn’t hug back; only death could pull her away from him right now. Ragatha doesn’t think she’s ever cried this hard in her life, even before she was here, with what little she can remember.

In this moment, she doesn’t know exactly what she’s asking from him because she needs so much, but when she begs for him with his name, shaky hands finally wrap around her, pulling her in as close as she can to him.

They're both each other's rock right now. The only thing holding them to the ground so they do not sink into insanity is “I’m sorry.” She cries, and he stops.

“Don’t.. Please.” Something wet falls against the cheek; she’s pushed against his; that’s not hers. She forces herself to be quiet as much as she can, except for the occasional hiccup, to pull back and focus on him. She’d been crying so long, and he held her. If he finally said something, it meant he wanted to talk. And God help her, she’d listen.

“Don’t apologize for me. Don’t excuse me because I’m the most *@)#$% on here and can’t go a day without convincing myself. I’ve already lost it, so I really don’t.” He slapped his hand against his face, trying to stop his tears. “Don’t apologize because I’m too weak to love her." He spat like he was sick of himself.

“You do love her, right?" Ragatha had to interrupt despite promising herself to be quiet until he was done. She wouldn’t let him get away with that nonsense. He clenched his teeth hard enough to look like they’d break. “You spend every day with that little girl, trying to make her laugh and be as happy as she can be in here. You’re a good father, Jax.” He scoffs, and she repeats herself. “I know you love her.”

“Of course I love her! That’s the !@#$%$# problem, Ragtha!"

How could that ever be a problem? Her breath hitches, and she’s about to break, but he does first. His voice is so desperate that it wobbles, and he can’t hold back anymore. “You don’t get it, Ragatha! Believing all this is real is what keeps you sane. Don’t you get it? If this is real, what happens to her when we wake up? What happens if we don’t? She can’t come with us!”

That makes her freeze. She’d avoided that thought as much as she could, but he kept going. Looking straight through her eyes to her soul, she opened a forbidden door she never allowed herself through. “Our bodies, wherever they are, aren’t going to live forever, but she will. She’s going to be stuck here without us, with no way out! I don’t even know if I’ll be able to find you, Ragatha. What if I don’t remember any of this? What if I don’t remember you? What if I forget about her?” His voice is hoarse when he says, “Please, understand. This can’t be real, because if it is, in here or out there, I couldn’t take it.”

She wants to explode again, but he’s the one who needs comfort right now. And really, comforting someone else has always allowed her own comfort to bloom. Showing such kindness and understanding to someone in the same situation allowed her to also show that same sympathy for herself. She’s so gentle that when she grabs his face, it makes him flinch.

Tender hands pull him to her, and she starts laying the slowest, sweetest kisses along his face, acoss his jaw, peppered where his tears leak. So soft but deep, like she's trying to get him to feel every bit of her love she puts into them. across Every time he tries to deny her or says another insult to himself, she hushes him and gives him words of compassion and endearment with another kiss.

A hiccup and a tear. Kiss. "Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay."

He swallows and says, "I’m horrible.”

Kiss. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m sorry," he whispers.

Kiss. “I love you.”

Hugging him like she’d never let go, she presses her cheek against his, melting into each other's embrace. “I love you. You love us. You love Marionette, and she loves you, and nothing in this world or any other can teach you that love lesson. Even if it’s slightly, she definitely likes you better.” She adds, pulling back with a little pout.

This makes Jax burst out in laughter. “What can I say? Little monster, has good taste!” Which makes Ragatha eyeroll before quickly joining him.

They laugh, and he pokes fun at Ragatha, finally admitting being jealous, though she has denied it so many times.

“Yeah, yeah, so funny! I hope you're real pleased with yourself for stealing the girl I literally brought to life.” She huffed but wasn't really mad.

Jax leans back with a smirk made by the devil. “Never been prouder, Doll!”

“You-” Ragatha points at him when their baby goes off like an airhorn, making them jump. They look at the clock, and it’s exactly 3 o'clock, and they stare at each other for a moment, not quite sure if they're ready to face this yet, when she lets out another wail, and Jax piches the bridge between his eyes, stepping away to stretch his back with a sigh. “I swear that girl is half banshee.”

A giggle escapes her despite not appreciating the comparison, and she gets the supplies he brang earlier out while he walks to Marionettes room to calm her on behalf of the whole tent.

When she comes in, she sees him holding her like always, as if everything that happened today didn't almost straight-up extract them both. He lifts her up quickly and brings her back down until she starts giggling, and the smile on his face when she does almost cures every bit of hurt she felt today.

Jax brings her face to his and kisses her nose, causing another giggle. "Ooh, that’s my bunnydoll! Only Daddy can make you laugh like this, huh? No wonder Daddy’s your favorite.” He side-eyes Ragatha with his yellow teeth stretching as far across his face as they can. She’s about to give him an earful, but in a second it gets silent enough to hear a pin drop when a voice that comes from neither of them says, “Da.”

“Did you hear that? Did she just-” Jax said his last look completely wiped off his face, looking at Ragatha for confirmation. Ragatha feels a smile stretch across her face; she thinks rival Jax’s a moment ago and nods eagerly.

“Da!” Marionette says it again louder, calling for her dad’s attention. “Holy #*(@”

“Jax!” Ragatha snaps back for a moment before he runs over to her, making their baby squeal. Picking her up in a hug, with them twirling them around laughing. And her memory goes back to the time she wished this was his reaction when he first found out she was pregnant. Ragatha already knew he loved them, but this felt like a miracle.

It didn't matter anymore what he needed to think to keep himself here. As long as he was here, as long as they could keep having these moments, everything was fine; everything was perfect. Tears leak from her eyes again, but in pure bliss, Jax spots her and puts her down with a roll of the eyes. "Jeez, Dollface, haven’t you had enough crying for the year today? Come on, it’s time to celebrate! I really did convince my first baby to love me more than her own mother! Gotta tell everyone!”

Ragatha's heart stops when he says “first baby.” Does that mean he wants another? Her heart swells, then she sees him walk towards the door, calling for Pomni, her best friend, of course, with all the smugness in the world. “Hey Pomni! Guess who the better parent is!”

“JAX!”

#tadc #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #jax x ragatha #ragatha x jax #ragatha #jax #bunnydoll #the amazing digital circus #mia writes

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