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#one villain is clearly worse than the others
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Confession Time!
So, over on Twitter, I'm a member of the Community Notes, and I can write Notes on any post as well as rate other Community Notes on those posts. This is done to fact check people. You have to provide a credible link as the source of your note before you're able to post it, right?
A bunch of M@rauders stans are attacking Tomarry writers, as usual, and because they can't handle that they like morally grey characters who did sus things, they make up all this shit to excuse those characters of their wrongdoings. Maybe that's why they're so jealous, cuz we can like a shitty character while NOT downplaying the bad he did.
Currently, there is an idea going around that Harry Potter was not abused in the canon story, and that everybody just swears he was abused when it was apparently, never addressed or shown and was just not treated the best. But when any M@rauder stans claim that Sirius was very clearly abused, it's unfair how no one agrees with them...
As such, they've been inundated with people pointing out all the abuse Harry has been through, from Vernon choking him out, Petunia trying to hit him with frying pans, them making him sleep in a closet instead of any of their extra bedrooms, lying about his parents, letting Dudley bully him constantly, punishing him when he doesn't understand that magic is at fault, starving him and his pet, putting bars on his window, etc... EXPLICIT ABUSE.
Now, one person gave a whole list of things that Sirius 'suffered' at the hands of his mother, and they're mad because it was pointed out that none of this actually happened in the story, not from anyone's mouth, and that that's just fanfiction tropes to make his parents worse and easier to hate. Harry's abuse is both told to us and shown as early as Ch. 2 of PS. We get to experience it through him in many ways throughout the books.
So usually, I don't get involved in these things, I just watch from the sidelines and laugh. But I thought it would be funny to put Community Notes on all of these people's posts because they're posting literal misinformation. And it's just funny to look at the post making all these claims and immediately see Rate Proposed Community Notes right at the bottom!
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This person is ranting about how there are 'context clues' about Sirius was being physically abused by his family, while claiming that Harry's neglect was never explicit to try and make it seem as if Sirius choosing to leave home because of his parents' beliefs is proof of his suffering and is the same as Harry's blood relations treating him terribly for how he was born, his whole childhood.
When people have to sugarcoat and lessen Harry's experience because they want to uwu their favs so they can feel less bad about what their favs have done in canon... It's the weirdest thing. I'm not borrowing shame from a fictional character over their wrongdoings despite how all my favs are the villains. I'm here for the character, and to be so emotionally distraught over what your fav has done, that you need to gloss over it and invalidate canon over and over, is truly unhealthy behavior.
And then attacking people with different favs/ships than you, is peak madness. Get a life. Go figure shit out. You clearly cannot handle interacting with real people yet.
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sunderwight · 3 months
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SV fic where Shen Yuan transmigrates into the former sect leader, Yue Qingyuan's shizun, right before Yue Qi shows up at the selection trials.
Shen Yuan is not sure why he's in one of his all-time hate-reads, let alone why he's gone so far back before the story actually begins (his system appears to be malfunctioning? something about an error and emergency backup...?), but he's making the most of it. This despite the fact that being a sect leader is a much more prestigious and political role than he likes.
But Shen Yuan is, at heart, actually a pretty good teacher, and he's spent enough time witnessing administrative work secondhand that he can competently tackle most of his duties. Whatever he can't handle, luckily there are other masters on Qiong Ding who always seem eager to curry favor by volunteering at the least hint that they should. Apparently his predecessor was known for being kind of cold-blooded and ruthless. (Shen Yuan gets checked for possession and it's concluded behind his back that he most have lost some of his memories, again, but also everyone kinda prefers this version anyway, again.)
But, so, he picks Yue Qi at the trials without even realizing at first who he's selecting, but just because that kid seems really determined to get in and clearly has been through it. Reminds him of Luo Binghe. Even when he puts it all together, all he feels mostly is kind of bad about it? He never thought Yue Qingyuan was sufficiently villainous to merit his end, even though he didn't blame Binghe for it either. He was always a mystery, an apparently kind person who nevertheless had some inexplicable fondness for the scum villain, turned a blind eye towards his abuses, and got dragged down with him. Shen Yuan feels even worse when he actually gets to know his solemn, smiling, secretive little disciple.
Yue Qi is very determined to advance, and as quickly as possible. Shen Yuan admonishes him. Obviously this kid has a protagonist-like aura and a similar drive to get places quickly, but you can't speedrun your disciple era, Mr. Future Sect Leader! There's no montage mode! Most of his attempts at intervening meet a brick wall that is Yue Qi's impenetrable smile and polite deference if he even hints at displeasure (this kid's gonna make a great politician one day), but Shen Yuan changes tactics and starts manufacturing excuses for breaks, taking Yue Qi on him with trips off the mountain and finding reasons to stop at local festivals and hot springs and etc. He can tell something's off with the quality of frustration that his disciple sometimes expresses, with how there's fear to it, but he's at a loss for the cause and it's difficult to get Yue Qi to talk. Despite appearances, he's actually very distrustful of adults.
When Yue Qi asks to claim his sword early, Shen Yuan says no. He remember how reputedly powerful Xuan Su was, and his disciple definitely needs a stronger base if he's going to pull a sword of that caliber. But he suspects this won't go over well, and when he catches Yue Qi sneaking off to Wan Jian Peak on his own, his disciple finally breaks down and admits that he needs to get strong in order to save his most important person.
Shen Yuan is moved. The way Yue Qi speaks, he's certain this person is a young maiden whom his student has fallen in love with. Truly, the sect leader was so very similar to Luo Binghe at heart! He must have failed in the original story, and that contributed to his difficulties and sorrows later on. Of course Shen Yuan will help him rescue his sweetheart!
Even if his sweetheart is... surprisingly butch? And is a slave owned by the Qiu family, and, wait a second, that name is kind of familiar... oh.
Oh dear.
Shen Yuan is internally screaming even as he helps buy Xiao Jiu out of bondage, even as he gives Yue Qi money to get his newly rescued friend all cleaned up and suitably dressed for the trip back to Cang Qiong, even as he buys the boys tanghulu for a treat, even as the System cheerfully informs him that his new quest is to get Xiao Jiu accepted onto Qing Jing Peak, even as Yue Qi tears up for the first time when he thanks him for helping.
He can only get to sleep that night by consoling himself with the knowledge that his generation is going to retire well before Luo Binghe and The Plot actually show up.
The System: (〜 ̄▽ ̄)〜
5 Years Later:
Huan Hua Palace Master: Sect Leader, we need your help! A terrible Heavenly Demon has come to threaten the whole of human society!
Shen Yuan: That's not possible. He isn't even born yet.
HHP Master: What?
Shen Yuan: What?
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scary-grace · 1 month
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hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic
This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.
Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.
Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.
Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.
He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.
That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.
It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.
Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”
“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”
“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”
Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”
Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”
“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”
Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”
“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.
Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.
Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.
You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”
You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”
“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”
“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”
Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”
You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”
“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”
Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”
“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”
You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”
You blink. “So jerk off.”
“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”
“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”
“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”
You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”
It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”
You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”
Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”
“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”
“Help with what?”
“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”
“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”
Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”
“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”
Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”
“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”
That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.
His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.
“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”
Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.
Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.
He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.
It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.
Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.
“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”
“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”
“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”
Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.
Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.
“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.
You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”
No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.
The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”
You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.
It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.
And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”
You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.
Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.
It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.
The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.
Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”
He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”
Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.
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kettlefire · 4 months
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Not Always a Villain (DP x DC Prompt)
Alfred Pennyworth is a man who always stands on business. Despite what the world might think, Alfred is truly the scariest man within the Wayne family.
He is a man of morals, that is correct. There are some lines Alfred refuses to cross. Harming kids is one of them. However, some morals become flexible when it comes to his family.
Alfred isn't Batman. Or any of the other vigilantes under Batman's wing. Alfred is simply a butler, and that's all that matters. He loves his family, deeply and truly. If there is a day when no love is shared, that is the day he is dead.
Despite all that, Alfred is detatched from the vigilante work. His job is to be there for the Wayne family. To offer them help in any way he can. And Alfred always delivers.
Even if it goes unnoticed, just how large of a role he plays.
Alfred is content with his role, with his life. He is more than happy keeping his darker traits hidden and tucked away. Unneeded in a family like the Waynes.
That was until a new villain appeared in the scene. A young man who seemed to strick fear in the hearts of everyone who encountered him. With snow white hair and blood red eyes.
Alfred barely spared a thought to it. Barely paid attention to the chatter about this villain. It wasn't his job to. Alfred was simply a butler, and that was all.
That was until the day it happened. Damian Wayne was sent to the hospital. Bloodied and broken. A truly brutal attack.
When Alfred looked down at the young master. Bruised in a hospital bed with a tube helping him to breathe. Bandages hiding most of the damage, but the whole family knew. This was an extremely close call.
In that moment, Alfred Pennyworth snapped.
He pulled some strings and checked in a few long, overdue favors. Before long, Alfred was on his own mission. He didn't breathe a word of it to Bruce or the others.
Alfred knew they would try to stop him. Or worses, they'll try to join in. This was something Alfred needed to do. Despite being an overall kind-hearted man, Alfred still had the heart of a stone cold killer.
He failed when it had been Jason. Alfred wasn't going to fail Damian. Not another Wayne kid will be failed. Not anymore.
Alfred had been so set on doing it. In taking out this villain before things escalated further. This young man was clearly cold-hearted, willing to hurt anyone and anything.
That's what Alfred thought.
What he believed until the moment he was face to face with the young man. It had been so certain. The man was unbelievably cold. Laughing in the face of Alfred's words, only stroking the old man's anger.
That was until Alfred had landed a hit, and everything shifted.
Blood red eyes suddenly shifted to bright lazarus pit green. The cruel look in those eyes suddenly changed to a horrified guilty expression. The man had stopped the fight in an instant.
Pulling away from Alfred. Terror and guilt clear as day as the villain seemed to retreat. In that moment, it all seemed to click in Alfred's mind.
This wasn't a villain. He wasn't a monster only determined to hurt anyone in his path. He wasn't the Joker.
Even when green eyes turned red once again. Even when the young man struggled and fought against him.
Alfred didn't yield.
He slapped special cuffs on the man, removing the powers he had. Dragged the villain all the way back to the cave.
Even when the anger and recognition flooded everyones' expressions. Alfred didn't stand down. He held strong, refusing to let anyone get their hands on the young man.
The young man that seemed too much like a young boy.
Alfred pushed the crusade to help. Laid his case out. Pulled the trust card. The supposed villain wasn't the person Alfred had beef with.
Not after hour long interrogations. Getting as much information as they could. It was a struggle, but it found an end. Alfred had no qualms with this young man.
No, he quickly learned who was to blame. Who was the person who deserved Alfred's anger. Deserved to pay for what was done. Alfred had a name, and soon... Very soon, that person will be in an obituary. A name was all Alfred needed.
Alfred was going to take down this Freakshow. Even if it was the last thing he could do.
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izvmimi · 20 days
Text
cw: teacher!prohero!izuku and prohero!reader with a healing quirk. accidental injury of a student. mostly just banter.
Izuku can sense your annoyance from the door but walks in anyway to the UA nurse’s office, thirty minutes after the close of classes for the day, as is your arrangement any time you work part-time at the school. (He’d argue that it’s an unnecessary precaution because he talks about you enough that his kids are well aware and quite partial to your relationship, but you can’t help the embarrassment when you’re spotted by his unofficial student fanclub.)
You’re still typing up today’s documentation from the kids you saw today - more than usual given the nature of today’s training exercise - and when he approaches, closing the door before carefully offering you a kiss on the cheek from behind, you turn to him with narrowed eyes and he knows he’s in for it.
“Sit.”
He sighs, dropping himself onto the nearest made bed and folds his hands in his lap. You type the last of your notes and save them, then swivel around in your chair. Once your eyes meet, he’s pouting, and part of you immediately wants to pull back, but stubborn as you are, you persist with your less than satisfied glare, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Hey, there was no way for me to know that kid would pull such a desperate move!” Izuku immediately defends himself animatedly. “We gave them clear instructions to either flee or fight, and they should know better not to fight a pro, and I truly did not mean to hold on that tight, plus it’s not like I don’t feel bad, I felt terrible! But the villains will not feel terrible for one second so it’s not like it’s a bad lesson to learn-”
Your hand goes up to motion dramatically for him to save it and Izuku stops immediately, then sighs again, before letting his body hang back and rest on the bed. You don’t nag that often, but when you do, it’s incessant and worse because you’re often right the whole way through. 
The move in question had happened during the classic 2 student vs 1 teacher fight, an event you remember clearly yourself from your days at UA and weren’t particularly a fan of. The kids, understandably, were excited to go up against their teachers and this iteration would include Pro Heroes from the golden class of yore, 1A, as substitute teachers and thus was quite the event. Naturally, this was a good day for you to substitute as a school nurse as well.
One of the students had tried to make a sudden dash for it on the left side while trying to escape Izuku’s grip on their arm, and Izuku, slightly distracted while prompting the other terrified student to think carefully about their next move, had not budged or known to let go, which led to a prompt shoulder dislocation.
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t terrible. Izuku let go immediately at the kid’s shriek, the other proctors had rushed in to bring the kid to you, but you weren’t enthused by the situation, not one bit. 
“You know, I expected this sort of nonsense from Bakugou, but you?”
Izuku nods, then becomes pensive as he rubs his chin with his hands. “To be honest, I’m quite impressed with the fact that not one of his opponents got singed more than a hair, but I also think his kids employed a far better strategy than mine, considering that they seemed to suggest they were going to fight upfront and then immediately feinted into an escape that fooled him - that being said I think part of that might have been Kacchan’s assumption that the kids would try to fight him to prove themselves and that worked to their advantage, but notwithstanding the fact that he was quite careful with them and chose a far less physical approach, although-”
You’re up on your feet, pulling on both of his cheeks before he can keep talking.
“The point here is not to be praising ‘Kacchan’, it’s that you HAVE to be more careful with these kids! What if they’d lost that arm?!”
He pouts again, and the second time works and you unwittingly soften.
As much as you’re conservative about injury, this is a Hero school, the same place where Izuku practically lost the use of his own arms out of his own recklessness time and time again while on campus. Sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him finally, you let out a sigh that’s only partially defeated.
He won’t call you too sensitive, but the truth is you are. 
“I’ll be more careful next time,” he promises you. “It’s still a learning environment and the kids should be safe no matter what.” With that, he reaches for your hand, then presses the back to his lips which brings a smile to your face.
You exhale.
“Do you remember when you and Katsuki fought All Might?”
Izuku blinks for a moment as recollection bubbles into his subconscious.
“Oh, yes.”
“That day I was so upset but I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say to him. You’re both laid back now, staring at the ceiling and as your hands remain interlaced, you’re transported back to high school.
He chuckles.
“Why? Because I was getting my butt kicked?” 
You laugh under your breath.
“All I could think of was ‘why is a practical god fighting us, we’re just kids?’”
Izuku laughs harder this time, then turns to face you. Cupping a hand on your face, he leans in and whispers,
“Do you think we’re the gods now?”
There’s a hint of amusement, but also the faintest whiff of melancholy, easily missed if not for the fact that you’ve watched him so carefully all these years.
You can hear the effect of slow near complete recovery of a Quirk, several Quirks, that were once much too much to bear, the far too heavy weight once on his shoulders, relieved now by the help of friends and loved ones, emotional scars that have healed over but run deeper than the ones your fingertips slowly glide over whenever you hold him close.
“I like being human, personally,” you whisper back. There’s a wistfulness in his green eyes as he takes your statement to heart.
“Me too.”
He kisses your forehead, then the two of you quickly remember where you are, then rise to your feet.
“Let’s go now?” he asks, swinging your work bag over his shoulder and reaching his hand out for yours.
You take it gingerly and he raises an eyebrow.
“Gotta make sure I don’t make any sudden moves, you know,” you tease, and he scrunches his eyebrows at you.
“Mean.”
You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs as you leave the campus grounds to make it home together.
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b4nka1 · 1 year
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my favorite animated men and random things they do when jealous and want to grab your attention!
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warnings: suggestive content (mentions of smut), misogyny, toji being nice, jjk manga spoilers. not proofread.
— FUSHIGURO TOJI : he would pout as you were busy with your office work. sure, you did love him, but your work was your priority for now. he would slowly walk into your room, standing behind you as you worked. he'd start massaging your shoulders, and within seconds, your eyes closed and body relaxed. "mmh, just right, baby..." you whispered to toji, you was still carefully and gently massaging your shoulders.
"if you gave me a tad bit more attention, i'd make you feel far far better, princess..."
— RYOMEN SUKUNA : he grumbled in annoyance when you paid no attention to him. the king of curses wanted to be mad but couldn't because you were so happy playing with the new puppy he'd gotten for you. you were laughing and giggling as the puppy kept whining and climbing over you. he got the most jealous when you kissed the puppy on its yucky, disgusting mouth, according to him. within seconds, he took the puppy from your hands and put the puppy back in his crate. he turned back towards you, picking you up and dragging you to the bathroom to make you brush your teeth.
"why'd you kiss that puppy on its disgusting mouth? now i can't kiss you without feeling disgusted."
— GOJO SATORU : he was pretty much annoyed at the fact that you were paying more attention to the three freshers than him. he scowled at megumi, who was getting more interest from your end. he was beyond irritated at this point. he sure was jealous but didn't admit it, not even to himself.bhe had to butt in, of course. his possessive ass simply couldn't handle the fact that you're quite nice and friendly. he stomped over to you, with a tiny pout on his face and his brows furrowed together.
"they're my students, but i hate the attention you're giving them."
— KUROSAKI ICHIGO : isn't exactly the type to get jealous, but he is very possessive. whenever he notices another man, especially abarai renji talking to you, he would ever so casually walk over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. he'd indulge himself in the conversation, laughing and nodding with whatever was going on. his arms would then creep down your back slowly as the conversation proceeded. he'd ever so subtly squeeze your butt and act as if nothing happened after he did so. when renji notices, he takes a leave and waved goodbye to you. you turn to ichigo and scold him for doing so.
"what? i'm just squeezing what belongs to me, you don't get to scold me on that."
— GETO SUGURU (villain era, you're not on his side) : he is a calm and collected man. but when he notices you and satoru being too close physically, practically invading each other's personal space, a smile and a bulging vein of anger on his forehead is prominent on his face. he silently swore to get you fucked raw before the war broke out. mimiko immediately notices this and huffs, "why don't you already go claim what's yours?" she snorts, going back to doing something on her phone.
"well, she will suffer. so what if we drifted apart? who is she to move on from me? she's still mine."
— NANAMI KENTO : he had been working overtime and came home late. to make matters worse, he found you on a long ass call with one of your guy friends, who used to like you. dismissing the jealousy, he took a shower and ate the dinner you prepared for him. and to make matters even worse, you were laughing at something he told you about. he was clearly frustrated and irritated, and of course, jealous of your little guy friend. when he had enough, he snatched the phone from you, putting it to his ear,
"either you end the call or hear me fuck her dumb and make her scream my name."
— ZARAKI KENPACHI : despite his rough and tough demeanor, poor guy also gets jealous of you spending time with ikkaku and yumichika. he tries his best not to show it as a kenpachi but fails when yachiru notices it. "ken-chan, don't worry, i gor your back!" she giggled happily. she searched around the seireitei and finally found you casually hanging out with yumichika. she walked over to you and held your hand. you raised your brows in surprise when she tugged you to the direction of the squad 11 barracks. she pushed you into zaraki's room, closing it behind her. zaraki sighed, hugging your waist.
"sorry, i kinda felt...jealous but didn't show it because of my status...i'll buy yachiru some treats for helping me."
— ABARAI RENJI : has his zanpakuto ready in its shikai state when you were found talking to ichigo. he angrily stomped over before byakuya stopped him. "they're just friends." he told renji and ordered him to sheathe his zanpakuto. renji grumbled and followed his order, stomping towards you, with a small pout on his face. he kept on giving ichigo glares until he took the signal and left.
"next time i see that piece of shit, i'm making him watch me pound into you."
— ZENIN NAOYA : oh boy, this misogynistic bastard wasn't ready to accept the fact that he was being jealous because his stupidly handsome cousin toji was being nice to you, complete contrast of how naoya usually treats you. toji helped you in the kitchen, he helped you with cleaning and helped you do the laundry. but naoya lost it when toji's arm wrapped around you instinctively as you were about to slip and fall. naoya grumbled, waiting until toji was out of sight. he pulled you by your kimono to his room, slamming you ruthlessly into the bed.
"that bastard crossed the line. might as well show him who this pretty but useless wife belongs to."
— KINJI HAKARI : is chill on the outside but the anger is bubbling within him inside as he watched your yoga instructor from afar being too touchy with you. his let out a low growl when he placed a hand on your hip and squeezed the skin. hakari had enough when the yoga instructor smirked and placed a hand on your inner thigh to "fix your posture," rubbing it sensually. you were too innocent to notice that. in a flash, hakari punched him square on the nose, stomping on the scum's face before leaving with you.
"he doesn't know.who he's messing with. we are finding you a new instructor. this one's gonna be fed to the curses."
— KAMO CHOSO : is a VERY pouty baby. yuji was his brother, yes, but that didn't mean you spend the whole day with him when you met him for the first time. it almost felt as though you and yuji were a couple and choso was the third wheel. after the whole day passed by, you and.choso went back to your shared apartment. he immediately went into the bedroom, snuggling under the xxovers and crying into the pillows. when you went into the bedroom, you noticed what's happening and frowned, rubbing his back and asking him what happened.
"i-i felt so left out today, bub... i-i know yuji is my brother b-but i needed you a-attention..."
— HIGURUMA HIROMI : he sighs once he comes back home after a long day. he put his bag on the coffee table in the living room before going into the kitchen, finding you there with your 2 month old baby, putting her to sleep. higuruma pouted as he wanted you all to himself tonight, but your baby had different plans. it took you great effort to rock her to sleep, eventually putting her in a crib and walking back into the living room, hugging him tightly. he returned the long hug, sighing in content and rubbing your back.
"didn't know i'd be so envious of our own princess, baby..."⁹
hope yall like it!
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hi! so i loved the whats in between fic (because everyone does) and i wanted to ask if you could write something like the spiderteens watches broke and they cant get back home so instead of waiting it out in the spider society place they go to miguel and readers house and sleep over! and ofc miguel complaining about just having them fix the watches but that would take too long
𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Summary: Miles is on a mission that ends up going awry right as it's about to end, and with his watch shattered there's no way to get back home. The answer? Stay at you and Miguel's shared home for the night :3
Warnings: None!! It's really fluffy, Miguel is soft with Miles (I'm sorry I couldn't help it hhhh)
It's late at night as Miles walks through the Spider Society HQ. Far too late for anyone to still be around, everyone was already at home in their own universes. He on the other hand was coming back from a mission that went awry.
It was supposed to be easy. Pop in, pack up the anomaly and head back to drop them off before going home. But for the last 7 hours the villain managed to evade his grasp until he finally cornered them on the edge of town at a shipping dock. But somehow on the trip back to HQ the villain managed to escape both the webbing they were stuck in and the force field keeping them trapped.
Had it not been for the fact that the villain glitched out mid-fight, HQ might be a lot worse for wear than it was. Luckily Miles managed to recapture the villain and place them into the holding area, but not without a cost.
In his hands was his watch, broken to pieces. He already loathed the lashing out he was about to receive from the Leader of the Society, but since there was no way for him to get home otherwise there was no avoiding the conversation.
Making his way through the doorway, he’s surprised to see you analyzing the screens instead of Miguel, having already mentally prepared for the scolding he was about to receive.
Right before he was about to open his mouth to speak, his form glitches out as he groans in pain, his atoms clearly unhappy to be existing in a universe that wasn’t his own.
“Miles!” you say, concern washing over your expression as you finally take note of him. Swinging down from the platform, you grasp his shoulders keeping him upright. “Are you alright? Is there something wrong with your watch?” you ask as you check him over like a worried mother.
“Something wrong? More like it's in multiple different pieces,” Lyla says, popping up behind him and looking at the broken watch he was trying to hide.
Miles’ expression grows even more sheepish as he brings his hands around to show you.
“I’m really sorry, the anomaly I was trying to capture escaped the trap somehow on the way back to HQ,” he says, and your eyes widen as you glance back to your screens. At that moment his body glitches out again, and you look at him worriedly. Then your expression brightens as you remember something.
“Give me one sec, sweetie,” you say with a kind smile before swinging back up toward the platform. Searching around, you reach into Miguel’s top drawer and find just what you were looking for.
“Hey Miles, catch!” you say, tossing him the bracelet. The Spider Society ‘Day Pass’ as Peter liked to call it. Relief immediately washes over his face as he slips the bracelet on, and he says a small ‘thank you’ as you swing back to his level.
“You don’t happen to have any spare watches lying around, do you?” he asks, shuffling back and forth on his feet. A nervous tick you seem to have picked on in the time you have known him.
“Typically we do…but Jess brought in a few new recruits the other day so we just ran out. Lyla, what’s the status on the production of those new watches?” you ask, and she pops over onto your shoulder as she scrolls through her own screens.
“Hm…it should be about another 16 hours until they’re done. We had to have some parts shipped in from the city which put them behind schedule,” she explains.
“Usually we would just fix it for you rather than you getting a brand new watch, but considering the state of yours…” you say, taking the broken watch into your own hands. The screen was shattered, the wristband was practically nonexistent and somehow the circuit board was hanging out in pieces.
“What on Earth even happened to this? Did the anomaly chew it up and spit it out again or something,” you say with a laugh, and Miles only chuckles nervously.
“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what happened,” he winces, and you only laugh harder for a few moments before pulling yourself together, your expression becoming a touch more serious.
“You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” you worry over him, turning him from side to side to check him over. You had a soft spot for the young Spiders here at the society and weren’t afraid to show it. Miguel had one too, though he loathed to admit it.
“No, I’m alright. It’s just my watch that isn’t,” he says, and you smile at him understandingly.
“Alright, but if I sense that you’re lying to me you’re heading straight to the infirmary young man, do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am!” he says, and you laugh softly.
“Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old,” you say.
“Sorry, ma’am! Wait…” his eyes widen slightly as he realizes his mistake. You only snort.
“We’ll work on it, Miles,” you grin. “The only issue right now is how to get you home…Lyla, is there anyone still at HQ? I left my watch at home since I thought I’d only be staying on base today,” you ask.
“Nope! Sorry, ma’am,” she says jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at her playfully. “Everyone’s missions finished up early today, Miles was the last one back.”
“Damn,” you say as you run through things you could do.
“Since there’s no way to get you back to your universe until the watches finish up…since it’s not too long, how would you feel about staying at me and Miguel’s house for the night? I was about to head back when you came in,” you suggest, and Miles’ face drops at the suggestion.
“Yours and Miguel’s house?” he asks. He knew the two of you were together, you had revealed you were married a few months back but he didn’t think he would be staying at your shared home.
“No offence, but there is no way Miguel would be happy to have somebody staying the night, let alone me,” he says quickly, and you give him a sympathetic look.
“Well, it's a good thing it's not only his house, it's mine too. And I’m inviting you to stay the night, okay? I don’t want you staying at HQ alone, there’s nowhere to sleep unless you want to rest on a hard pillar all night and we have a guest room you can stay at,” you explain, but Miles’ expression is still unsure.
“Look, I know the two of you didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when you first met, but I can give you my word when I say that you are one of the few people he tolerates even if he doesn’t show it. Okay Miles?” you say, and while he doesn’t look like he fully believes you quite yet, he finally relents.
“Alright,” he says, and you pat his shoulder warmly.
“Alright,” you say with a smile. “C’mon, let’s head to my car and we’ll head back to my place, yeah?”
“He won’t be angry that I’m there…right?” Miles asks as he fidgets a bit as he settles into the passenger seat.
“Not on my watch,” you chuckle. “He had the day off, he should be in a great mood. But you know, a lot of his anger is just a front for the things he’s been through. He doesn’t like people getting close to him, and while I admit it isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, we all deal with grief differently. Do you get what I mean?” you explain as you drive back home.
“Yeah…yeah, I do,” he says softly, and you smile sympathetically as you glance over at him.
Despite the good work that everyone does at the Spider Society, being heroes in their own worlds, they all have some of the most difficult lives. Filled with suffering, grief, secrets and loss. It was the lives they were dealt by the hands of fate, and though that fate is shared across the multiverse it didn’t make it any less hard.
“He’s hard on you and your friends because you’re young and he thinks he can mould you into the heroes he wants you to be, which isn’t right and I tell him that often. But it also means he thinks you all have greater potential beyond what you can see, and he does care…even if he struggles to show it. Don’t worry too much, sweetheart,” you say. You knew you were rambling, but you just wanted to ease his worries at least a bit. He nods before his stomach interrupts the conversation.
You laugh a bit as a flustered expression washes over his face.
“Hungry? I’ll whip up something for a late-night dinner, I’m pretty hungry myself. How does that sound?” you say warmly, and he nods.
“…Thank you, really. I’m grateful you’re doing all this for me, you really didn’t have to,” he says, and you shake your head.
“Don’t worry about it, Miles. I quite adore you and your little friends, even if you do get up to the most trouble,” you say, memories of them and all their pranks around HQ playing through your head as you pull up to your driveway.
The house was a bit outside of the main city, somewhere quiet and less industrial than the heart of Nueva York. The lights were still on in the living room, indicating that Miguel hadn’t yet gone to bed which was to be expected. He always waited up for you to come home, (not to mention he had the worst sleep schedule).
“C’mon sweetheart,” you say, stepping out of the car. But you notice Miles’ expression, looking absolutely terrified even though he tried his best to hide it. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit.
“Miles, you’ve been here before. I promise it’s alright, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, finally smiling a bit.
You both walk up the front steps, and you unlock the door like you’ve done so many times before.
“Mi vida,” you hear Miguel’s voice say as he appears around the corner. It washes over you like a warm summer breeze, and you feel the tension leave your body as you finally return home. You can’t help the soft smile that plays across your face.
“Hello, darling,” you say, and he can’t help but smile back.
“Now…I know I didn’t give you a heads up but,” you say as you pull Miles out from where he was hiding behind the front door. Immediately Miguel’s expression drops slightly, not so much in anger but more so in annoyance that there was someone there to interrupt his time with his wife.
“Before you say anything, Miles’ watch broke on the way back from a mission, and you know that the new watches are still in production since we ran out a few days ago so I figured since they would be done relatively soon, he can stay the night and head back to his universe in the morning?” you say, not so much asking but telling him much to his dismay.
For a moment he only sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at you. He could never stay upset at you, at least not for long.
“While a warning would have been nice, mi alma,” he scolds lightly, and you grin sheepishly.
“You can stay the night Miles, though it would do you well to not break any more watches in the future,” he chastises, and Miles straightens up almost comically.
“Yes, sir! I’m really sorry about that, the villain managed to escape the trap somehow and managed to bite it off of my arm before I could get away, and then it got really hectic back at HQ but don’t worry though because there isn’t too much damage, and I managed to clean up the most of it but there might still be some debris around and-” he rambles nervously, but Miguel’s snort of amusement interrupts him.
“Look kid, I get it. Mistakes happen, just don’t make it a point to break Society's property too often, yeah?” Miguel says a kind expression on his face that soothes Miles’ nerves.
“Yes, sir!” he says immediately.
“Don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old. Miguel is fine,” he replied, and you laugh slightly at the fact that you said the same thing earlier.
“Come inside already Miles, or are you planning to spend the night on our porch,” you say, pulling him in gently by the wrist.
“Are gorditas alright? I know they’re not exactly dinner food but I’m craving them,” you ask him, noticing Miguel’s expression light up at the mention of them, almost identical to the expression on Miles’ face.
“Gorditas? They’re my favourite!” Miles says, and you smile as you head into the kitchen to whip them up.
“Behave, you two!” you call out as you leave them to their own devices in the living room.
~
Before long, the late dinner is served. Small talk and banter are tossed around the table as you all eat together, then you usher Miles off to bed like a worried Mother given the late hour before heading off to bed yourself with Miguel by your side.
“That was quite the surprise today, mi vida,” Miguel says as you join him in bed, Miles all settled in the guest room and snoring away.
“I know…but he’s a good kid and I felt bad leaving him at HQ alone,” you say sheepishly, peering up to look at him.
“Lyla’s there…” he trails off, and you smack him playfully.
“Miguel,” you chastise, and he raises his hands in surrender as you snort. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” he says, and you just shake your head with a smile.
“I felt bad, you know?” you say softly, and he turns a bit more to listen to you speak.
“This life we all live here at the Society? It’s hard, especially for the young ones. I didn’t want him to feel alone in a universe that isn’t even his own, this life is lonely enough as is,” you voice your thoughts. It really was hard, living this life and protecting the canon at the expense of other Spiders’ suffering. Anything you could do for them you would do, to make things at least a bit easier. It’s why you were pretty much Miguel’s right hand alongside Jess, you were the gentle touch paired with his cold calculated self.
“You really do have a soft spot for them, don’t you?” Miguel asks, and you chuckle softly.
“I do, but don’t pretend that I don’t notice you do too my love,” you say, and he scoffs slightly before glancing away. But by now you knew that was one of his tells that he wasn’t being entirely honest with you.
“I’m not soft, querida,” he says, and you give him a knowing look to which he switches off the lights to avoid.
“Whatever you say, tough guy,” you say before snuggling in closer, a content smile on your face as you feel yourself drift off to sleep in his arms.
Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@remuslupinwifee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @rawegggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex,@chimpkinnuggies ,@rqdior, @banana—belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @ieatmunson, @honeii-puff, @wh0re4zaynmalik, @toplinehyunjin, @ohworm-writes, @ishii03, @snowywhiterose
A/N: I can't help it, Miles is just so precious I had to have the reader be motherly with him lol. Thanks for reading! And I apologize for the delay in requests, it's a teensy bit overwhelming but I promise I am working on them!!
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kiss-me-muchoo · 4 months
Text
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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Summary_ He pushed you away some time ago. You forgave him, but Miguel realizes intentions don’t mean much and he wants you back.
Warnings_ age gap! (I’m 20, Miguel is around 28-31, bear with me), angst, fluff.
A/N_ this is The Craving from Twenty One Pilots, I loved the new album. and imgonnagetyouback from Taygod Swift, BOTH IN MY MIGUEL PLAYLIST🩷
♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)
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Waves of silence crash all over the Spider Society. Miguel O’Hara had just told Miles Morales that he had to let his father die to protect canon. Your guts twist in an odd feeling, you feel a bad omen. The chase had been tough, your insecurity playing with your head as you knew Miles had the right to choose his destiny.
Canon had been fair with you, offering you light problems compared to others. So you wished every spider had the same destiny as yourself.
Now seeing that Miles was gone thanks to the “Go Home Machine”, you couldn’t let Gwen to follow the same path.
“Miguel… you can’t send Gwen home. She’s vital for this.” You say quickly stepping up against the man who was intimidating the sixteen-year-old girl.
“I don’t need more problems than we already have. I restate… she’s a liability” Gwen pleads you with scared eyes. You gasp, running out of options to calm the angered man.
“You gave me a second chance too, I was once a novice like her” Miguel huffs, looking at you with much impatience.
“Yes, and you learned from that, never committing an error again.” Gwen is picked and caged inside the machine, she starts panicking and you too. In an act of desperation, you grab Miguel from his forearm, making him turn to look down at you. His crimson-red eyes stare at you with such hostility that you know you have to be careful to choose the right words.
“This is not right. You are not thinking clearly. Miles and Gwen deserve better” Your gaze moves between him and Gwen, hoping Miguel would agree and let the girl stay.
“Miguel, please…”
“THIS IS ABSURD, Y/N!… CANON HAS GIFTED YOU WITH MUCH LUCK, YOU CAN’T EXPECT EVERY PERSON HERE TO RUN WITH THE SAME FATE. BE REALISTIC, RESPONSIBLE, AND INTELLIGENT FOR ONCE!” As he attacks, Gwen is gone. Another round of silence invades the place, but this is worse. Your eyes open in shock after hearing Miguel.
He can’t be fixed. He won’t change. It’s time to go and follow what you think it’s correct.
You eye Jess and Peter, they seem like they have some things to say but remain quiet.
Miguel finally looks delicately at you and notices your eyes are watering. The awkwardness is very loud, your blush letting everyone know you are embarrassed.
You won’t say anything about it. You just look back at Miguel for a second, before opening a portal in your gizmo, doing the same as Hobie Brown did; quitting.
“I really thought you would get it…” Your gizmo fell to the ground as you disappeared, the screen of it cracking and leaving Miguel a little stunned by your decision. He sighed, knowing he had screwed it, but confident that his intentions were correct.
That night, after a quick patrol, when you returned home, you took a quick shower to wash away all the pain and bitter taste of the day you had. But when you came back, there was a little present wrapped in newspaper that wasn’t from your earth. You unwrapped it, revealing a homemade gizmo. You grabbed the little note attached.
We need you
-Hobbie
You would do things right. And you didn't care if you had to fight with old friends or colleagues. Especially Miguel.
The seasons had changed so fast. By the time summer ended, the leaves were already drying and many people had left, by winter and the snow falling over, others came back. But you stayed the same.
You had the same suit, with upgrades and chrome instead of golden details, but it was the same. Your earth was well controlled, with no sign of the villains that used to terrorize your city. All the smiles you offered were the same. All the laughing with Peter B. Parker, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles was the same. Yet, something had changed between you and Miguel O’Hara.
The man knew the perspective people had of him would change after the events of last summer when he put the lives of Miles and many others at risk. He let his fears win and while he tried to protect everything, he was only pushing it towards the edge, dooming the fate of the multiverse. You were on his side at the beginning, claiming that canon was sacred and couldn’t be changed. But the image of Miles, his face full of fear and anxiety, unsure and terrified of his future. He was a kid, he had no idea of anything. He made you question if canon events could change. Either way, the kid was more than enough to draw you worried. Destiny could be wrong, so you decided to help Miles. Your decisions had consequences? Yes. The moment you left the building of the Spider Society, you started to miss everything. In your mind, you were almost assured Miguel didn’t care about you, but deep down, your heart said the opposite. Ending with a drift that seemed invisible at the beginning. But now, a year later, it was more than clear.
The change was something you could get used to. Your work remained the same, with Jess and Peter. B Parker. Your missions only turned more fun with the addition of Miles and Gwen permanently returning like you. Gatherings at Peter’s each Saturday remained the same. But all the awkwardness of the spiderverse invaded you when Miguel O’Hara came into the picture.
After all, you two had gone on a date the day before you met Gwen at her earth while capturing the Renaissance vulture. He asked you out, and you said yes. It was a lovely afternoon and he even visited your home. What started as a mentorship from him, blossomed into a friendship and then as a “almost something”. Which hurt worse.
It all started with you walking away. Briefings were cautiously heard by you, even staying after for further questions. Jess asked you to hand the mission details to everyone when Hobbie and Miles came to talk about a concert you were going to with Gwen and Margo when Miguel came and started asking about a new gizmo coming soon. Everyone noticed you grew quiet and soon after you were gone.
Then, you stopped asking to go on missions with him, Ben, and his usual party. When you were recruited, Miguel was annoyed but pleased to have you along. It happened that one day, you blew things off accidentally, making him extremely angry. Your web shooter failed and you almost missed it to save a baby. Nonetheless, you quickly were ranked higher thanks to your abilities.
All of your friends could see how your small friendship with your boss had suddenly evaporated. And Miguel couldn’t blame you. After all, he was the one yelling in your face when you argued in favor of Gwen when she was sent home. Miguel could remember he almost made you cry, leaving you completely embarrassed in front of everyone. He felt terrible seconds after you left, but he soon went to the earth of Miles with Ben and Jess. Eventually, when the man learned you were silently helping the kid and the ones who had left his side, he didn’t say anything. In the final moments, Miguel knew he had to side with the teenager and help to get rid of The Spot. And when the chaos was over, he wished he had the right to celebrate it with you.
The aftermath changed him, over the months, he even thanked you for trying to make him see the reality from the beginning, and he apologized. But that night, he understood that you had forgiven him, but remained hurt.
Either way, Miguel had to deal with the consequences of his acts and sort the way things would work for the sake of everyone’s canon. Yet, in the middle of the night, he constantly remembered you.
Out of nowhere, Miguel O’Hara was accepting that he missed you. And acknowledging that fact, only made him accept he had some feelings towards you. Which scared him for sure. But after losing his daughter, almost losing all he had built for spiders like him, after feeling so isolated, Miguel lounged to have a partner. He craved the love of someone. And had found it. He just wished he had done things differently.
Jessica knew Miguel so much that she easily solved the mystery. On a random Monday, she bombarded him with questions that soon made Miguel spit out he was attracted to you. She suggested the man slowly try to talk to you. Nothing was lost, there was hope. The woman had her theories about you never getting over that crush on Miguel. She often had caught you staring at him, staring too much for later to avoid him. Jess knew you were protecting your own heart.
“Miguel?” She asks.
So there he was, Miguel was sitting in the cafeteria, taking a big bite of his empanada de picadillo. He could taste the shredded beef, potato, carrot, jalapeños, and mushrooms freshly mixed with spices.
“Yes?…” The insides of the empanada are burning his tongue and he doesn’t mind.
“I asked if you assigned today’s missions?” He nods. With a quick glance at his surroundings, he huffs at the sight of the hamburger with the face of his mask still being served. The cafeteria is full and he hates all of the voices speaking at the same time. He has to wear sunglasses because the place is full of light, and it hurts his eyes. Why is everyone still eating a hamburger with his mask on the bun?
“Are we lunching here because perhaps you want to see when a certain female spider appears?” Miguel rolls his eyes. Some days, he loves Jess and knows about his feelings for you because she grants him free therapy. But other days, he hated it because Jess knew how to mess with him. Like now…
“Oh…Hi y/n!” Miguel looks at Jess panicked, but soon feels relived that his sunglasses are dark enough to cover his blown wide eyes. You appeared there. Upside down, of course, Miguel notices how your hair hangs freely, and he isn’t sure if it’s longer, or it’s just the gravity.
“Hey, Jess. I just came to drop this file with Miguel. Lyla said he wasn’t in his office” You say calm. He notices you have your mask on, but you’re definitely not looking at him. He takes the folder from your hand and stays there looking at you. You seem awkward but remain relaxed.
“That’s from my morning patrol, you asked for a report. I’m leaving with Hobbie and Pav now…” you add. And you can see how Jess keeps glancing back and forth between you and Miguel. Was she hiding something from you?.
“Okay… guess I’m leaving now…” you only sigh when no one answers.
“Get back safe, please,” Jess says as you are already far away from them.
“Thanks” you answer without looking back. Soon you open a portal at the entrance of the cafeteria and you’re gone. That’s when Jess comes back to her friend, side-eyeing him.
“Really? You couldn’t even say ‘thank you” or “good luck”?” Miguel sighs, dropping his empanada and relaxing his shoulders. He knew he had to say things to you to get back to normal.
“I know… I just… I don’t know how to start this” Jess smiled. In the end, even when Miguel was a 6’9 tall man with the title of founder of the Spider Society and creator of the Gizmo, he was a silent and certified emotion avoider.
“She forgave you for last summer and all. But this is now, she’s also awkward about you. She’s also unsure if you want to talk to her…” Miguel leaned closer, interested and equally anxious.
“She said that?” Jess shrugged while taking a bite of her French fries.
“It came out very vaguely. But for sure she’s also a mess for you”
“What? Did she also say that?” Jess giggles at him, only sipping from her soda.
“Maybe you could start sending flowers or letters, Romeo” Miguel huffs, wondering if his friend actually knew something or not.
Jess wanted to lock you two in a room and hopefully, when she opened the door, Spiderman 2099 would have a prospective lover.
With another college semester ended and a driving anxiety, summer was a relaxing time for you to spend in your room. Painting your toenails, you were singing at your CD player playing one of your favorite songs. Your family was gone, so you could be letting your feet dry walking upside down in your ceiling. Suddenly, your gizmo beeped and it was a deleted message from Miguel. You frowned and almost screamed. Probably he sent something to you by accident and then he deleted it. But you had an omen. So you called Jess, she answered with a long and mean “what?”, she must’ve been watching some movie with her husband.
“Miguel sent me a message and proceeded to delete it before I could read it?” You didn't mean to sound so fast and desperate, but you did.
“Slow down, girl. But… he deleted it?” Actually, she had been sleeping, her toddler being a little bolt that demanded a lot of her time even with her husband there.
“Exactly… Odd, Right?”
“Coming from Miguel? Sure it is. But… I think it’s time you try to talk to him too, y/n. Maybe he’s awkward about what happened last summer and doesn’t know how to approach you” Jess wants to scream that Miguel likes you too, but she can’t ruin it.
“ I feel like Miguel doesn’t even care I distanced myself from him. But when I see him, my heart starts beating so fast, and my hands sweat.” She laughs and lets out a long “eww”.
“You hide it very well. But you’re very cold, it doesn’t help. I have to admit you also might need to try….”
“Jess, I’d end up bursting out that I’m in lo-“You immediately stop, Jess lets out a surprised groan.
“MISS Y/N, YOU LOVE HIM?”
“Goodnight, Jessica” You go straight to bed, ignoring the deleted message and everything regarding Miguel.
But Jess and her questions keep popping up in your head.
Could it be possible that you were actually in love with Miguel?
“So my teacher said my essay was lacking everything, it was marked with red all over,” Miles says walking beside you, both of you are done for the day with the missions. You were almost infected by some poisonous lizard that was haunting earth-2407.
“Did you actually make the corrections?”
“I did-“ you side-eye him.
“Well, not all of them but-“ you two are just walking around with no destination secured. So when you two pass by the training center, Miles literally pushes you towards the stairs that lead to the balcony of said center. He gestures to you to keep hushed before turning to see the couple speaking; Miguel and Jess.
“We shouldn’t be hearing them” you remind him, not wanting to get caught, especially by Miguel.
“Jess banned me from the 10th floor because I was disturbing everyone. Gwen was with me and she received no punishment, bro” the teenager whispered. At sixteen, Miles had grown impossibly taller, almost like Peter B. Parker and Noir. Even Gwen was taller, everyone was taller. But at least you weren’t the same height as Penny or Peter Porker.
“Maybe because Jess is training her yet?”
“So? That’s nepotism” You want to laugh but he shushes you again. So you turn to see Miguel and Jess training.
The man was extremely sweating and Jess too. You never reached the same level of training simulations as them, thinking it was unnecessarily violent and fast-paced.
“Keep Gwen and Miles out of my lair. I’m tired of catching them trying to make new suits from themselves”
“They don’t even know how to work the machine, relax” the woman bites back.
“So? It’s annoying”
“It’s also annoying that I have Lego Spiderman and y/n printing random pictures at my office” The mention of your name makes you blush, remembering the print of Peter B. Parker with a big red font saying “Have you seen this man in your dreams?” It was very funny among the coworkers and every time Peter saw it, he would start complaining from all the bullying he had to endure.
“Don’t get y/n on this. I can’t even stand her now” You swear you can feel your heart shattering. Miles turns to look at you, encountering your sad expression.
“Y/n…” the boy tries to soothe you, but you just shake your head.
“I think I’m going home, Miles” you whisper to him, leaving soon after.
Your eyes water as you walk away from the training center, many fellows stare confused at your sadness. But you ignore them as you open a portal towards home.
And when you are in the safety of your earth, you are not ready to go to your pillow to cry. So you start swinging between skyscrapers and buildings just to clear off your mind.
You knew it was a mistake from the beginning to start developing feelings for Miguel O’Hara. Then he invited you to that damn date. Such a fun day till he had to yell in your face that you were privileged and shouldn’t be stupid ignorant. Now he seemed to have left the issue behind, after his apology. And you forgave him, even letting your feelings for him float around. But if he didn’t want you back at the society? Why did he call? Why did he offer the gizmo again?
He was an asshole.
Meanwhile, Miles stayed a little longer, hearing more of the conversation.
“Just tell y/n to stop using my printer” Jess pleaded.
“Nah, I won’t tell her,” Miguel says smirking. The woman training with him rolls her eyes annoyed.
“Just because she’s your impossible crush doesn’t mean she can have the privilege to print stupid things at my place” Miles gasped, thinking what Jess said was a joke.
“You can use my printer, so I don’t have to say anything to my girl,” Miguel said and Miles was officially shocked. He had to tell you everything the next day.
Two days later, the overheard talk is somehow forgotten. Miles tries to mention it occasionally but you brush him off. You have your head centered on Mayday, the two-year-old toddler walking beside you across the hallways of the Spider Society. Peter completely trusted you to leave his child with your babysitting.
“Where did you leave your ribbon, Mayday?” The little girl giggles. She has a dress of flowers and sneakers, making her look very adorable with her long disheveled hair.
“Don’t know” she babbles. Peter would be mad since it was the third pair being lost in the week.
Mayday clumsily waddles, giggling as you keep searching around for that ribbon. Even though the floors are mysteriously always clean and shiny, you can’t see the damn ribbon.
When you walk slightly away from the little girl to look down on a bench, you hear a little yelp from her and when you turn back, you see Mayday on the floor and then she starts crying.
“Oh fuck me…” you whisper, running to grab the kid and start calming her. You carry her in your arms as you sit on the bench.
“It’s okay, Mayday. It was only a little slip, but you are okay” She starts hearing your voice and her cries turn to sniffles, feeling protected when you hug her and gently brush her hair.
“Daddy won’t like looking at you crying. He wants to see you laughing and happy. You are fine, see?” The kid nods brushing away the tears.
“Now give me a smile. You were very brave!” mayday smiles brightly and you chuckle.
“That’s the Mayday I know!” The kid laughs at your way of entertaining her. When you turn towards the hallway to see if Peter is back, you almost drop Mayday again.
Miguel was there, looking at the interaction.
“I found the ribbon,” he says walking towards you and the girl. His expression is very neutral, and you can’t see the way Miguel’s hand is shaking slightly.
“Miguel!” Mayday greets the tall man with a smile, asking him to be in his arms. They both had grown closer. After all, Miguel had been around Mayday since she was born. You appeared when Mayday was 10 months old.
“Hey, kid” you let him take the girl, then you accept the ribbon from his free hand. You barely touch him but your lungs are dry and your stomach is a mess like a powerful tsunami. Nonetheless, your face shows the contrary.
“Thanks. Peter was growing annoyed by how many ribbons this little girl had missed.”
“I know. And you handled very well the situation back there…” he admits, recalling the little slip of Mayday. Miguel sees a little blush in your face, it lights up his hopes.
“Thanks…” you awkwardly say, standing up to try to reach the little girl.
Miguel leans slightly to let you tie the ribbon on Mayday’s hair and he’s able to smell your perfume of figs and brown sugar. He also sees the little golden seashell pendant hanging on your necklace. He smiles when he realizes you are avoiding his gaze. And when you’re done, both stare at each other, with many questions, but silence reigns. Both of your hearts racing with a tormented passion.
“Y/n… I feel like we need to talk about-“
Miguel grows quiet when Peter appears running in the middle of the hallway.
You don’t even catch what he said, you turn relieved to see Peter was back.
“Oh boy, we are late for her passport appointment. M.J.’s gonna kill me” You giggle at his drama. Miguel is still there behind you, he rolls his eyes making Mayday laugh.
“She will understand. And thanks for the ribbon, Miguel” The little girl is back in his father’s arms and you quickly start following them, too nervous to stay with Miguel alone.
The man just stays there seeing how you leave, and he sighs, taking a long breath. His intentions are not enough. His little efforts are nothing to reach you, it makes the craving he feels to be corresponded by you even bigger.
As for you, you feel a great heartache. Half of you feel very nervous, because it seems like some days Miguel wants to talk to you, and other days he wants to say he’s tired of you. What a confusing and fucked up situation.
He gives two steps forward, like five steps back. Miguel is standing at the entrance of the terrace in the building of the Spider Society, debating whether to go and talk to you or not. He even prepared a few things to say, hoping to not scare you away, more than you already were. While he knew he couldn’t just scream out he was in love with you, he could try to mend the breach built between you two.
It’s getting late in Earth-928, and a lot of spiders are leaving their home. It’s Saturday and a lot of them have plans with their families, partners, and friends. Miguel is set to have another lonely weekend doing some patrol. But for now, he’s still there, watching you seated on the rooftop of the building, eating some chicken and avocado tacos from the cafeteria. Miguel wants to laugh when he catches a glimpse of some avocado dropping from your taco. You set the plate aside and look down, letting out a little “yikes”, Heaven knows what or who would end up getting a piece of avocado from the sky.
He’s not ready. Miguel curses himself for being a big overthinker. He’s able to fight the most callous and evil villains from different dimensions. But he’s unable to say “Sorry, I was an asshole. Can we try it again?… Oh, and I love you”. Perhaps it was his anxiety or panic, but Miguel swears his gizmo beeped, so he walks away, going down the stairs, feeling his heartbeats returned to normality.
Each step he takes is filled with greetings, comments, warnings, notices, and more from different spiders. He sends spider plushie and Penny to work in a minor anomaly and finally, he closes the door of his office.
There’s a mess of papers around. Miguel suddenly remembers someone… Gabriella. He’s happy that his trauma is slowly fading away. He was officially healing and had accepted his daughter had also forgiven him. Miguel could rest knowing his errors were sealed.
And just as he was about to play some of the recorded memories he had, Lyla appeared.
“The whole gang is coming” she blurted out with her usual cocky smile.
“Tell them I’m busy, Lyla”
“But they’re already here” The AI had a new pair of fucsia heart sunglasses and coat. Which seemed to have made her more stubborn. Miguel sighed, turning off his monitors.
“MIGUEL!” the man heard the annoying voice of Peter B. Parker and sighed. When he turned around, he saw the whole club; Peter without Mayday, Hobie, Pav, Margo, Miles and Gwen.
“What is it now?” he looks down at them from his platform and is already irritated by their presence. Even after a year of changes, they were a group of teenagers and Peter.
“Well… uh-“ Gwen starts, but soon pushes Peter forward, encouraging him to speak up instead of her.
“Uh… Miguel, we know you hate us for wandering about your private life and we respect it. But we feel like you need to talk to y/n about her position here.” As Peter talks, he has Miguel’s whole attention.
“And why is that?” He sounds reluctant, but he grows anxious.
“She said she doesn’t feel the same as it was when she was recruited. That you confuse her with your behavior towards her” Margo answers for Peter, with a better choice of words, of course.
“As the leader of this team, we just want you to remind her that she’s welcome and that you want her here. Because you want her here, right?” Peter adds, Miguel crosses his arms.
He needs you, actually.
“I’m not sure I’m the most adequate person to tell her that,” Miguel replies.
“Oh, you have to be kidding. She heard you and Jess. At the training center…” Gwen speaks again, Miguel is shocked, even terrified of you hearing you were his girl.
“How much?” Miguel asks with that well-known tone of anger and fully intentional intimidation.
“Well…” Peter said.
“HOW MUCH?, POR DIOS!” Miguel yelled exasperated.
“She left when you said you couldn’t stand her,” Miles confirmed to him, making him sigh. Trying to get you back was only getting trickier than expected.
“Yeah… I don’t think chicks want to be neglected twice” Hobie speaks for the first time, mocking Miguel.
“Hobbie, not helping here” Margo scolds him whispering.
“At least I’m trying to pull one out” Miguel fires back making everyone bite their tongue to avoid laughing. Because Hobbie Brown didn’t have the best history search with girls.
“Hey no, stop. The point here is that you need to talk to her. I accidentally heard everything” Miles speaks up, walking forward toward Miguel.
The man only pinches the bridge of his nose, cringed that the teenager had to listen.
“I’m pretty sure she feels something too” Miguel hated that Miles had to be a wise kid, frequently reminding him of his errors and making him realize there were always other options.
“She must hate me.”
“No, y/n just needs to know how you actually feel” Gwen encouraged him, and unconsciously, Miguel was being pulled towards the exit.
“I couldn’t speak to M.J. for a very long time after we divorced. And I had nothing to lose, I just knocked on her door with some flowers. Look at us now… y/n will know too” Miguel thought Peter could be the goofiest man he ever met, but he was his friend. So maybe he could accept his advice.
“Va pues, don’t know why I’m listening to all of you” huffing, Miguel and the group were out, except for Hobbie, who stayed behind stealing things from Migue’s lair.
When you open your door, you gasp shocked. Miguel is there, he’s wearing a sweater that fits him a little too tight but nice, dress pants, and tied shoes. You rarely saw him without his suit. But that isn’t all, he has a pretty bouquet of lilies in his hand.
“I’m sorry.” He says and you are already making a pout.
“Miguel…”
“Let me finish, please.” He interrupts you, so you nod, stepping out of your place.
“I’ve made some mistakes, but as the son of a mother and… and-“ you start giggling and Miguel is red like a tomato.
“Let me guess… Peter gave you a speech to say to me?” Miguel tilts his head.
“Yes and… I-… mierda. See, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to leave the Spider Society. I need you. And I still feel guilty for last summer. But if you give me another chance… I swear that I will give you more than I take away” You nod, smiling. Miguel sighs relieved. To his surprise, you grabbed him by the sweater and pushed him towards you to give him a big kiss on the lips. He reciprocates immediately, smiling in between.
“I’m in love with you” he admits, his forehead kissing yours.
“I’m in love with you too, Miguel” As both of you kiss again, chants and applauses start. When you step away from Miguel, you see your friends there, passing past you and Miguel to step inside your home.
You are extremely confused.
“We were here the whole time, FYI,” Margo says as Miles, Gwen, Pav, and Noir pat your back and step inside.
“I’m so happy for you both. I can’t wait to have a double date. You two, M.J. and I” Miguel rolls his eyes at Peter.
“What did I miss?” You ask Miguel. Not that you mind that your friends literally invaded your home, but it was just weird.
“They wanted to help me”
“Aww, we have such good friends,” you say smiling.
“They’re not my friends. I just tolerate them” he is lying of course. You grab his hand, your cocky smile making him feel so happy. He’s still processing what just happened, he can’t believe he officially got you back.
“Oh shut up, of course, they are our friends”
“What about you and I?, Are we more than friends?” You blush at his questions. He grabs you by the waist to prevent you from going inside the house.
“Not so fast, bonita”
“I don’t know. But I’m eager to be your lover”
Now it was Miguel’s turn to get blushed.
_______________________________
213 notes · View notes
tarjapearce · 11 months
Note
ok, sorry if this sound dumb but what if Miguel broke his arm on a mission or training or something and his kinky brain can't think of how to fight off his desire for the reader while his right hand is no longer useable? sorry words are hard. just thinking about obsessed simp Miguel and i can't even!
Need a Hand?
Miguel O'Hara x Reader
(no pun intended). NSFW, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Dirty talk, a little of sub! Miguel.
Bizarre.
There wasn't another word that described the situation before you, but a lot of different synonyms. Funny, preposterous, ridiculous.
Him, out of everyone, out of the high endurance and resilient people you've met, had broken his arm while fighting Kingpin.
Fisk had snapped his arm like a twig while trying to stop him from rebuilding the particle collisioner. Even though the big man was put behind bars on his world, Miguel had suffered the consequences of the criminal's misguided wrath.
Another lesson for the Boss, really. He might have encountered many variants and villains through the years, even gotten used to their fighting like a second nature, however he was often prone to forget that some of those variants were even more vicious than the others and that he was still human.
And this Kingpin was either narcotically enhanced or was having a bad bad day.
"Serves you right." You chided him while taking a look at his forearm, tucked in within a thick mesh of resin, allowing his skin to breath and heal properly without restricting his limb completely, something he had designed himself.
"You're not funny."
"And you're a sore loser. Anyways, I'll shall get going. This Spiderwoman needs to face the landlord for increasing my rent without telling. Stay out of trouble and rest, Miguel."
With a pat on his shoulder, a portal was open to your dimension. His eyes fixed on your disappearing form through it.
A deep exhale. His hands rubbed softly where you had touched him. Warmth still lingered for a second before disappearing.
"Heartbeat frequency and neural activity increased, should I arrange a visit to the medical bay?"
"No. Just... get the coffee machine brewing."
"Wouldn't that make it worse?"
"Lyla" He warned and Lyla rolled her holographic eyes
"Yeah, yeah. I'll get Jessica if a heart attack happens."
"That's not how caffeine works."
Lyla shrugged before disappearing out of his sight.
-----
Despite being light and doing it's work as it should, the cast was turning into a nuisance. Even the Spider doctor had told him to keep it easy. Spider people healed fast that was much true, but that didn't mean they had to be as reckless as he was being.
Holed up in his lab, trying to get a proper hold of his cock after his eyes had stumbled upon a rare and delicious gem. Footage of you removing the watch and taking a shower. Other of you getting out of your suit and laying naked on your bed as you scrolled through your phone to watch silly videos.
But the one that had put in him in the predicament he was now, replayed over and over, as if engraving it in his brain wasn't enough.
You in bed, naked, a frequent habit he supposed, dragging slow and lazy circles on your clit while watching a saved porn video.
Smooth flesh parted and toyed with, glistening by the neurological response to such imagery.
His hand stroked himself but it felt wrong and painful. His bone wasn't cooperating, and neither was he with the aftercare.
You'd probably be nagging him on how stupid he was being for being so careless and stupid. A lazy smile crept to his face. You were so annoying, pretty and clearly making a mess out of him. The pain remained in his arm but it mattered little as the strokes were heightening his senses.
But as soon as Miguel tried to increase the pace, the sharp discomfort anchored him back to reality.
"Puta madre" He growled and let his cock go, frustrated for being unable to jerk off properly. He tried with his left hand but it wasn't as coordinated and vicious like his right hand. His upper back muscles tensed before throwing a metallic jumble of things in the wall. Suit quickly trapped his cock again.
What was the use of having it free would be if he couldn't get off without feeling pain?
"Miggy Miggy, where are you?"
Shit
He punched the screen off before you ventured in his room. Just in time to not blow his cover.
"Heard something crash, what's not working properly this time?"
His eyes darted to his own hands, but yours were settled on him, red eyes followed your line of sight and it dawned on him. A little flush bloomed in your cheeks.
"Oh."
A smirk displayed on your lips. Certainly a reaction he wasn't expecting.
"Need a hand?" You giggled while he frowned at your own little joke.
"That's... That's not funny."
"I'm not mocking you, Miggy. " With every step closer you gave, he stepped two back, until his back collided with the TV he had just punched. Turning it on back to life.
The lewd moans of your video echoed behind him and your eyes widened.
"Is that..."
You gulped at the sounds. It was impossible to not recall such moans when you knew them by heart, your favorite video. Something you had fantasized a shit ton of times with Miguel, if you were honest. You pushed him out the way to see what had gotten him all worked up.
"W-Wait!"
Your eyes remained glued on the screen, watching how you played and touched yourself. Fingers spreading and toying your cunt.
"Where did you get this?" He had to snap his head your way to divert his attention from the video and pin it on you.
"You leave the... uh... channel open."
It wasn't a lie. Ever since a little mission your gizmo had been malfunctioning. And the recording had been one of them.
"Makes sense. Told you to fix it and you didn't listen."
He swallowed thickly, hoping you'd forget about it. But of course, that wasn't possible.
"Did you like it, though?"
That smirk of yours made his senses to flare up in danger. He shrugged and your brow quirked in disbelief.
"Your cock betrays you, O'Hara"
His eyes narrowed when you stepped closer, but again the chair behind him blocked his escape, he plopped on it while you sat on one of his muscular and meaty thighs. He had to improve the distribution of the place later.
"Let me help with that."
His breath hitched at your words. Eyes locked with his, visual contact sacred to him, as your hand slid down his firm torso, the suit vanishing as you reached down his groin.
Hefty cock sprung back to freedom, a pearly bead of his precum greeting you while you took a hold of his base.
"So big and pretty" You nodded. It sent shivers down your spine, the way he breathed. His generous lips parting to give you a low groan as your thumb smeared the cum on his tip.
"Yeah?" He rasped and you pumped deep.
His jaw clenched and his eyes drooped, lust blown. A fiery flush covered his cheeks. His legs instinctively spreaded more to you, giving you more access to him. We'll worked arms rested on the chair, clawing at the hardened material of it.
Your hand let him go for a moment, fingers collected a good amount of saliva, to then paint his cock with it, making the pumping motion swiftly and faster.
His mouth slacked open, his left hand coaxed your head closer, pressing your forehead against his.
His eyes never left you, just like your hand never abandoned his cock. In fact, your fist had trapped his tip and squeezed his tip, earning you a well deserved whimper.
"You like that, Miggy?"
He nodded in between breathless and deep pants. His groans increased their intensity as you moved your hands to his base. Index and thumb finger circled around him, tightening as much as they could without hurting him. A delicious hiss escaped his mouth followed by a shivering moan.
"Wished it was my pussy right now, don't you?" The pace you settled on him, had his hips slowly fucking into your hole shaped hand, your words only urging the already running rampant imagination.
"So tight and squeezing your cock, hmm?"
"Si" A hiccup as the chair trembled with your ministrations, "Ay por Dios, si"
Fingers focused on his tip again and his teeth ground together. His grip on your nape firmer, as if to prevent you from escaping
"Want to fill my pussy with your cum, Miggy?"
"E-Everyday" He croaked and you smiled above his lips, hot breath fanning over his mouth. Hands clenching and unclenching at the motions your hand provided him. His cum was a magnificent lube.
"My God, so so greedy" You cooed while smirking. You had him a babbling mess since your hand never waned, your voice was like a merciless guide, exposing his deepest desires with such ease it only added more gasoline to his scorching need.
His spine arched subtly, making his head throw back, chest heaved in erratic breaths, matching the thrumming of his heart and the unceasing waves of pleasure, set to drown him.
"Wanna ruin me, Miggy?"
"Yes." He hissed.
His body slowly melting into he chair. You could feel his thighs trembling.
"Are you close?"
His lips searched yours in a measly attempt to placate his babbling mouth, instead you took a hold of his jaw with your free hand, bringing his eyes to yours, and God, you groaned at the sight.
"Give it to me" You moaned. His brows knitting together in a deep yet pleasurable frown, mouth shaped in a messy 'a'.
"Así... Si..." He gulped a choking sob. He inched closer and closer to the fire, calling him to be consumed.
"Wanna cum?"
"No pares por favorno-" He slurred and tripped over his words as thick blobs and spurts of his cum spilled over your hand and wrist. His breath hitched to finally be released in a jagged groan while you gave him the last and deepest strokes.
"Dios..." He whimpered and held onto you, anchoring to something before his soul floated away from his body. The hot of his breath was captured between your lips, granting you a low growl as he rode his high.
Some of his cum had stained the floor. You stood and licked his cum off your fingers, relishing the tangy and salty taste.
"Let me know when you need help again, Miggy"
Before he could reach out again, you were already at the door, waving a little taunting goodbye. He'd definitely need help again.
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epiclamer · 6 months
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Hero shot up, the first thing they knew was that they couldn’t breathe, the second was that it was because they were vomiting. Or, at least, their body was trying to.
They keeled over the side of their bed, clutching their spasming abdomen with one hand while the other held desperately onto the mattress. Their blanket swamped their legs, their shirt was glued to their back with sweat, and their hair was plastered to their burning forehead.
Again, they couldn’t breathe, every muscle in their body squeezed relentlessly as it tried to rid itself of the contents of their stomach. They gagged, shook, and breathed, then the cycle repeated itself. Over and over again, Hero hadn’t even realized it, but they were begging.
Please, please, please, please—
Begging someone or something to save them, to stop this. They convulsed again, eyes rolling back, mouth open, but nothing came of it.
Eventually—after another thirty seconds or so—it stopped. Hero wheezed, their whole body was sickly cold and yet somehow also sweaty, their head was reeling and they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore, they just collapsed.
They had expected to hit the ground head first with a thud, their grip on the mattress was loose and they knew what was in store for them, instead, two arms swooped them up before they could collide, pulling them in close to the stranger’s chest. Hero’s first instinct was to pull away, fight, claw themselves out, but then they recognized this feeling, those arms, and that chest.
“Villain?”
The light on their nightstand flicked to life with a dim yellow glow and with a good twist of their neck Hero could see their nemesis as clear as day.
“Hey, Hero.”
Unwillingly, the hero’s body relaxed, practically melting into the criminal’s arms as they were hauled back up to their bed. Once they could see the villain again, Hero noted the sad smile they were sporting. They looked tired, definitely not as tired as the hero did, but there were bags under their eyes nonetheless.
What time was it anyways? Hero turned to check their alarm clock, it was four in the morning. What the hell was Villain doing in their house?
“Do you know what… that was?”
Hero startled out of their thoughts, eyes meeting the villain’s once more. They nodded, slowly but surely and with some weird ever-growing shame gnawing at their gut. “Nightmare.”
The villain let out a small chuckle, “That is what your nightmares look like?” Their expression however was one of fear.
They nodded, their nightmares had just been getting worse and worse lately there was no use trying to hide it. For whatever reason Hero hoped that being honest would get them some comfort from their lifelong enemy.
A silly thought at best and utterly ridiculous at worst.
Villain pulled the blanket up to Hero’s shoulders, tucking them in carefully. “Are they all like that? Or are some just worse than others?”
“It depends, yeah. This one was one of the more… difficult ones.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” It came out faster than the Hero had expected, almost like the villain had been keeping it on the tip of their tongue this whole time.
The villain’s eyes met the hero’s once more, they locked and finally Hero could see that their nemesis was actually worried. Not scared, or sad, or tired, it was worry. Hero had to fight to keep down whatever emotion bubbled up at the thought of someone actually caring enough to worry about them.
“It’s just violence. Senseless killing, or running from being killed, or chasing after someone to kill.” Their cheeks burnt up in shame, they were a hero, they weren’t supposed to have dreams like these.
They must’ve been deranged, it was the only plausible answer. Heroes were peace-keepers, not killers, clearly, their subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo.
“I’m sorry.”
Hero’s thoughts skidded to a halt. What.
“I’m sorry.” The villain repeated, placing both of their hands against the blanket as if they could read the hero’s mind. “That sounds terrible. I-I can’t imagine what it feels like…” They trailed off, somewhat lost in thought.
Hero’s stomach clenched again, this time out of pure nerves. The worst part of this was that the villain seemed so genuine; Hero was smart enough to know they didn’t deserve that.
“You should really be apologizing for breaking into my house—” They chuckled and even though it was a last-ditch attempt to lighten to mood it seemed to have worked.
Villain scrunched their nose in response, shooting a glance over their shoulder at the pile of notes they had been filing through just a moment ago. Suddenly coming back to the current situation and the realization of what they were doing—caressing their nemesis in bed.
They stepped back and Hero shot up, reaching for the villain before they could stop and think. Tears welled up in their eyes, their breath quickened, the horrible thought of being alone again to manage their own dreams struck them like a blow to the head.
“Wait, wait, wait, please— please stay, Villain please don’t leave me—” They were blubbering, they could feel it, but it didn’t matter; they were desperate. “Please, just stay for one night, please…”
Villain only thought about it for a second, they didn’t need any more time to decide to crawl under the duvet.
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commander-revan · 1 year
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I've been thinking a lot lately about how Dabi feels post dance and the Paranormal Liberation War in regards to losing Twice and Compress all in the same day.
Obviously he's ecstatic that he finally got to reveal himself, got to see his father face the consequences of his neglect, and tell the whole world about what a piece of shit the Number One hero is to his own family.
But after those scenes, despite all the recent promotional art of him smiling, he doesn't actually seem happy. In some cases it even seems like he's doing worse mentally.
We missed out on a lot in not getting to see how the remaining League members feel immediately after that battle. We don't even get to see Shigaraki acknowledge losing Twice and Compress, if he even knows what happened to them with AFO trying to take him over.
All we really get are these panels when AFO is breaking other villains out of prisons around Japan. And he and Spinner just look so exhausted.
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Dabi is clearly upset about losing Twice given his confrontation with Hawks, but after that we don't see him talk about it at all. We do see him with this look when Compress brings up that he believes Twice died, but Dabi doesn't even mention that he was there with him in his final moments.
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He just immediately switches gears and decides to focus all of his energy into hunting down Endeavor, kickstarting his plans for revenge much earlier than he expected.
The only other time we see him mention Twice is this moment with Toga (this scene is also the only time we see him smile post reveal and before the war).
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We get even less when it comes to Mr. Compress, even though Dabi seemed the closest to him out of everyone in the League. Nothing gets said at all about him. Compress helps Dabi escape and tucks him away with Spinner before he sacrifices himself for them. But I don't think Dabi knew what Compress was really doing, that he wouldn't be coming back with them.
I also don't think the world had the reaction Dabi was hoping for after releasing his reveal video. Sure some people lost faith, and there was a press conference, but ultimately Endeavor didn't face any consequences. It confirmed what Dabi already knew, that nobody cares and heroes will continue to get away with anything in this society.
After this, in the few scenes he's in before the war, he just has blank stares.
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Or he's annoyed that AFO isn't letting him go after Endeavor immediately.
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He doesn't care about taking down the world, or AFO's plans, he's just impatient to kill his father and ultimately himself. Like Shoto said, he's been ready to die from the start. And I think losing the people he was closest to in the League only exacerbated his fatalistic mindset.
With Twice dead, Compress in prison, Shigaraki being possessed, and with what happened to Spinner, it's really just him and Toga left. He doesn't have a reason to really stick around for anyone anymore.
Which just makes me wonder if he blames himself. He's the one who brought Hawks in after all. If it wasn't for that, Twice and Compress might still be around, they might still have their base, their army. They lost everything, and he's partially to blame.
He's been deemed a failure since he was a child, by Endeavor, by AFO after his three-year coma. And then he failed in protecting the League, in judging how much of a threat Hawks actually was. He only brought Hawks in once they had formed the PLF. He thought with numbers behind them Hawks couldn't touch them when/if he turned on them. And he definitely didn't think that Hawks would actually kill anyone. But he was wrong.
In the end, he got exactly what he wanted, but I don't think he ever expected that the League would pay the price for it. Along with everything with his family, he might think that he deserves to die for what happened. For failing the people closest to him one last time.
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Hi! I have a request, i hope it's not too specific or silly! How about an ace character that finds a fellow ace? Could be a villain that keeps flirting and when the hero tells them they don't want anything spicy villain is like 'Oh yeah no I'm ace too, just like teasing you :3'
Regardless of whether you answer or not, i hope you have a wonderful day!!
For better or for worse, the date they were on was rather pleasant.
It had been a trap the villain had prepared which was in retrospect a little bit too obvious. Their nemesis had lured the hero out of their messy apartment with a single note - a warning that quite a few hostages were waiting for them at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.
Without hesitation, the hero had rushed to the address but once the hero had opened the door, it was rather clear that no one was in danger. Instead, the hero got some judging looks from fancy folks when they had thrown open the door, panting.
The villain had looked rather amused when their gazes had met. It was the kind of embarrassment that burnt itself into the hero's brain. A memory that would pop up whenever they tried to fall asleep. It was so bad, in fact, that they considered turning on their heel and leave all together but the villain was too quick.
They raised a glass, their smile crooked.
And the hero felt obligated to walk up to them, now that curious looks were jumping from the hero to the villain.
"You could have told me to wear something nice," the hero hissed as they sat down.
"You look great in everything," the villain purred. Their eyes wandered up and down the hero. "Even in sweatpants."
"You flatter me."
"I'm stating a fact."
The hero took in a deep breath. Their heart was still banging against their rib cage violently. They lowered their voice.
"Why am I here?"
"Because you're gullible?" The villain swayed their wineglass in one hand.
"That's not what I mean."
"Because you're the city's sweet saviour who will always help the poor and innocent?" The hero didn't really know why the villain was toying with them like this. Clearly, there was an ulterior motive behind this. There always was.
Mostly, it was scheme after scheme with them. It was true that the hero was rather fond of them but they'd rather cut their arm off than admit that.
"You know I don't have much time on my hands," the hero said. "So whatever you want from me, make it quick."
For a moment, the villain didn't say anything and exactly that gave the hero enough time to truly look at them. Apparently, they had taken their sweet time to get ready for this date. The hero didn't know how to interpret that. Maybe it was the overall atmosphere of the restaurant or maybe the villain really cared about other's perception of them. The hero couldn't tell.
"I guess there is your answer. I thought it would be nice to spoil you a little," the villain said. "My little workaholic."
Oh, shit.
To say the hero started panicking internally was an understatement. They liked the villain, really liked them. Maybe even more than that.
And the villain seemed to have similar feelings for them.
The hero swallowed.
It had taken them quite a lot of bargaining, denial and a great deal of sadness to realise that they weren't interested in anything sexual. It had taken them a lot of time to come to terms with it. Back then, they had felt guilty for feeling the way they did. Often, they had wondered if there was something wrong with them. If it was just them who felt like this.
It was an almost obsessive fear of exclusion that had infiltrated their mind. It was exhauting to explain their own feelings over and over again and sometimes, they had even forced themselves to go beyond their boundaries.
On some nights, they had lain in bed awake, asking themselves if it was fair to be this way. To never be able to fully give back and love a partner that way. They had lost enough people they had been interested in romantically because of this. It was always the same stupid cycle. Always the same brainless questions that didn't help nor comfort them.
The hero was a different person now. They were much more confident but losing the villain that way wasn't only awkward, it was also a little heartbreak all over again.
"Listen..." the hero said. "I appreciate all of this. You're very sweet."
They dug their nails into their palms. Most people didn't understand. Most people said they were totally fine with it and still, they distanced themselves in the end. It used to make the hero angry but above all, it used to make them very sad.
"But, you know, I'm ace, so. Well, yeah, I...you probably know what that means but if you don't, uhm..."
Suddenly, something lit up behind the villain's eyes.
"Yeah?" The villain smiled. It wasn't a grin. It wasn't a smirk. It was a sweet, lovely smile.
"Huh?"
"You're ace?" they asked. Again, the hero swallowed. They looked down at the still empty dinner plate. It seemed like they had been in here for hours now, even though it had been mere minutes.
"...yeah."
"Me too," the villain said softly and the hero couldn't tell if this was some cruel joke or if this was a genuine gift from the universe. This meant no explaining, no stupid questions. No lost relationship, no arguments over this...For the first time in their life, they felt excited after coming out.
"What? Really? But the flirting and the-"
"I love messing with you, you know that," the villain said, winking. They took a sip of their wine. "And I meant what I said. You need to relax. You need someone to take care of you, even if that someone has to use some questionable methods to get you out of your apartment."
The hero stared at them, almost drunk on happiness.
"Thank you," the hero whispered.
"What a silly thing to say, darling," the villain responded.
Both would return to the restaurant several times after.
Hungry for more.
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speed-world · 2 months
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Hi, I'm not sure if you'll see my request, but I want to ask. Whooh.. [worried and worried] So calm... can I ask you to write Cookie Run Kingdom Self-awareness Au with a human child y/n? And what does the ancients and the cookies of darkness have to do with the fact that their world is just a game? Well, when the ancients and the cookies of darkness found out about this, all the cookies would want to get to know child y/n and the Dark Enchantress changed her mind from leading the world and then a new dispute began about who would protect and take care of child y/n. [If possible, then let y/n get into the midst of the final battle of the Ancients against the Dark Enchantress cookie and if you don't mind, then let the character of little y/n be the most attractive and sweet in the world and his appearance charming so much that even the trading monsters and cake hounds did not want to cause any harm and even pomegranate cookies and Licorice cookies were kind to baby y/n] I would very much like you to tell me this sweet story about it. ^^
(Sorry this took so long, I really hope this is to your liking, as I wrote it with the idea of a school age child [6-12] and I didn’t do everything in the request)
Terrifying New Dawn
Everything was dark around you, so much so that you couldn’t see your own hand in front of your face. The last thing you remember clearly was playing on your phone before going to sleep, and now you were waking up here….in a deforested area with dark and red shadows clouding the sky. You had so many questions: Where are your parents? Where are you?? Why are…the large walls surrounding you so tasty looking?! As you stirred, you heard the muttering of smaller beings that surrounded you. Shock and confusion were written on all of their faces as they just stared at you lying down…
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“It seems like they’re waking up…how on Earthbread did this even happen?”
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“I…I have no idea. Why would a child of the Witches suddenly come down here, during a war of all things…?”
Your vision began to clear up more, and you quickly realized where you were. You were surrounded by Cookies…and you recognized all of them!! These were all recognizable faces from the game you were playing earlier: CookieRun: Kingdom! How exciting is this!! Granted, you also realized something more grim than exciting…you’re still you: a human child in a game world of Cookies. You were dang near a giant to them, and they looked scared of you…how can you convince them you aren’t a threat? Maybe…just say hello?
“Pure Vanilla, Dark Cacao, Hollyberry, Golden Cheese, White Lily, and even Dark Enchantress Cookie?! H-hello…it’s really cool to see you all-“
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“T-this child knows us?! They wouldn’t be…a baker or a witch, would they?!”
Okay…not the reaction you wanted…but how do you explain yourself to them? You most certainly aren’t a “child of the Witches,” nor are you a Witch at all!! Would telling the truth hurt? No…it couldn’t hurt!! It’s just the truth, and your parents always told you that lying wasn’t good for anyone, so telling the truth must be perfect!!
“No, no, I’m nothing like that! I’m just a kid that was playing your cool game! I don’t know what happened to my phone though…but I was playing as you guys in this exact moment, where you were fighting each other! Neat, right?”
Your childish innocence only made things worse. The Cookies around you froze in complete shock from the slow realization, a truth far more painful than the one Dark Enchantress Cookie was dead set on making others see. They were pixels on a screen,…predetermined script for you to mess around with, …fake…. If it wasn’t obvious, they weren’t happy with this realization at all, especially the one who’s apparently been forced to play the villain’s role…
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“What…what kind of perverse joke is this? You mean to tell me that my ambitions, everything I’ve worked tirelessly for, my life…has been worthless this entire time?! The truth I meant to share with all Cookiekind…is nothing more than wasted breath compared to this…”
Dark Enchantress Cookie stood utterly defeated, still trying to process what reality now means to her. The Ancients, ironically, were united with Dark Enchantress here. None of them knew what to properly make of their lives now. But, there was now a more pressing issue: you. You were a child, a lost one at that. You had no home to go to, no family to look after you, and you were rather…unfitted for the Cookie world as you were now. Oddly enough, the first one to address this was none other than Dark Enchantress herself!
“Ah, yes….despite everything, you, child, are our greatest concern of the moment. Seeing as how all I’ve strived for is now utterly meaningless, I’ve changed my mind. I no longer have any desire to continue this war with you Ancient heroes, or any other Cookies of the matter. From now on, this child is my concern, and I’ll watch over them as I see fit.”
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“W-what?! You can’t be the one to watch over them! You’d misguide and harm them, and no matter who they are, they don’t deserve that harsh life!”
“All you do is assume rather than listen…I’ve made it abundantly clear that I have no more interest in any of my former ideals, as they clearly have no substance anymore. If it makes you happy to satisfy your role as a ‘hero’, then we can all help this child adjust to this world properly. Surely if we come together with our magic and wits, we can at least ideally make them a body better suited to live amongst us, wouldn’t you agree~?”
The Ancients stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to decide your fate, before one radiant Ancient approached you. She looked up at your towering stature with welcoming eyes.
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“Child, do know that this is ultimately your decision. The last thing either of us would want is to do anything to you that could harm you. Your safety and wellbeing is our shared priority, but you could pose a danger to us in the state you’re currently in. If you so wish, we can find a way to assist you to live in this world without issue until we find a way to bring you back to your home…what do you say?”
It felt like no matter what you chose, you’d be completely safe and cared for no matter what. You noticed that as you were pondering, a horde of cake hounds and other monsters of Dark Enchantress’s forces circled you and virtually showered you with affection, which you found so adorable!! The cake hounds would play around your large body and playfully puppy kiss you!
It’s clear as day that these Cookies care for you, first and foremost, and everything else around you did as well. They wouldn’t cause you harm, they wouldn’t even want you to cry or be afraid, they loved you like nothing else, and hoped that your new life here wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of!
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writerbri · 21 days
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marked me like a bloodstain bucktommy // mob/mafia au // teen // 1913
Prompt for @badthingshappenbingo: Rope Burns
❁❁❁❁❁❁
Being kidnapped is nothing like the movies.
There is no smug, taunting villain revealing all of their masterful plans or menacing henchmen looming over him threateningly.
There’s just Buck, alone and bound with tight rope around his wrists and ankles. He woke up to darkness in a too small space, a pulsing ache in his head and his fear rapidly building. He can’t remember anything past lunch with Maddie, and there’s no telling how long ago that must have been. He had plans for the rest of the day. He was supposed to stop by his favorite farmer’s market to visit all of his favorite stalls and maybe a few new ones. He planned to find all the ingredients he needed for dinner, and maybe pick up some of Tommy’s favorite fudge along the way.
Tommy.
Tears sting at his eyes, slipped down his cheeks and soaking into the gag tied tight around his head.
There’s no doubt that he must be losing his mind. He’d never admit to it, but Buck knows well enough that this exact scenario is among his greatest fears. He feels so foolish now, refusing Tommy’s many offers of protection. Insisting that he could protect himself just fine. It’s a horrible way to learn how wrong he was, and it’s all he can do not to lose himself to the panic clawing at every inch of him. Tugging uselessly at the rope, Buck ignores the pain as it digs into the delicate skin of his wrists, kicking out with his bound feet.
No one comes.
Whoever took him clearly doesn’t care how much noise he makes, and that’s all the more terrifying. If they aren’t worried, it must mean there’s no one else around to hear him. The realization drains the fight right out of him, and he’s left breathing hard and falling apart in the dark, silent aftermath. A dozen possibilities fill his mind for what may happen to him next, each worse than the one before.
He isn’t supposed to be here.
This isn’t even his life. Not really.
His captors have to know that. They must believe that he doesn’t have any useful information, if they aren’t trying to drag anything out of him. He’s heard it all before, from the people who look at him and see nothing but a pretty piece of ass. It never bothers him, simply because he knows better. Tommy erases all doubts before they can take root, murmuring assurances in public and worshipping him in private.
There’s no doubt in his mind that Tommy will try to find him. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.
Maybe he just won’t make it in time.
It’s a different brand of torture, being trapped in the darkness as time ticks by. Every time he thinks he hears voices or movement, it’s impossible to know whether it’s real or a trick of his desperate minds. Nothing changes, no matter what he does. He screams into the gag until his throat burns and his head feels like it may split open completely.
It does nothing but tire him out.
He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, only that he wakes to the sound of heavy footsteps. Buck is helpless to listen, and he flinches away when the door is wrenched open. A broad-shouldered man steps into view in a shadowed hallway, hiding anything beyond the tiny space of the closet as he squats down in front of him. There’s a ski mask covering his face, leaving only a pair of cool grey eyes and thin lips visible. He even wears gloves on his hands, leather and black and cold as one hand grips his chin tightly, forcing his head up.
“Smile pretty for your boyfriend,” the man says, his voice deep and mocking as he holds up a phone in his other hand.
Buck tries to pull away, but the hand only grips him tighter as his abductor snaps a series of pictures. He can only imagine how terrible he must look, and the reality of the situation becomes all the more clear. They’re undoubtedly sending signs of life to Tommy, dangling the fact that he’s still alive, because they want something in return. Whether it’s money or something more, it doesn’t really matter. Buck silently hopes that Tommy gives them nothing, even if it means he dies. He has a reputation, and Buck would never forgive himself if Tommy sacrifices that just to save him.
“Good boy.”
The man looks up at him with a smirk, releasing his chin only to ruffle his hair. Buck curses in return, his words muffled by the gag but easy enough to decipher. He’s far from surprised by the blow that knocks him back against the wall. Darkness swallows him up again with a slam of the closet door, and he’s left reeling and blinking through the tears that spring to his eyes with the new pain where the man punched him in the cheek. He’ll be lucky if it’s not broken, not that it’ll matter if this ends the way he suspects it will. The way it has to end.
Don’t do it, he pleads with Tommy, even though he can’t hear him. Don’t you dare give them what they want.
It’s a thought that lingers, and a prayer that goes unheard.
❁❁❁❁❁❁
Time passes, and passes, and passes. Every inch of him hurts from sitting in one position for too long, and his stomach aches with hunger. There’s no sign of anyone else, and he wonders if he’ll die right here, forgotten and starving.
He thinks of Maddie, who doesn’t deserve to lose another of her brothers. He thinks of Jee-Yun, who won’t have any concrete memories of him. He thinks of Bobby, who already buried too many members of his family, and who won’t even have a body to bury this time. He thinks of Athena and May and Harry, who accepted him as Bobby’s shadow all those years ago, and who claim him as family without hesitation.
He thinks of Tommy, who somehow managed to hold onto that big heart of his despite the business he was born into. He wonders if this might just change that, and he tries desperately to believe that it won’t.
Buck is so busy thinking that he misses it at first. The distant chaos. The shouting and the gunshots and door after door crashing open. He lifts his head wearily, almost certain that it must be a trick of a mind that is slipping away. He thinks that he hears his name, but it’s impossible to tell. He’s too tired, and too weak, and too hopeless. He’s all but resigned himself to dying in this endless darkness, and it’s nothing less than a miracle when the door flies open and light washes over him once more. He squeezes his eyes shut as his head throbs viciously after hours on end trapped in the closet.
“Jesus,” a familiar voice rings out, and he can’t possibly convince himself that’s it’s real.
Except there are hands on his face, gentle and callus and oh-so-familiar. He smells cologne that he himself bought, and he silently begs whoever might be listening that this isn’t a trick. The gag is the first thing to go, and he works his jaw against the tight ache as fingers carefully tip his head to the side. Buck can only imagine what he must look like, and he can practically feel the fury that builds with every passing second.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“T’mmy?”
Reality seeps in slowly, and he tips forward to bury his face in a shoulder he recognizes all too easily.
“I’m here, Evan,” he says, his voice tight and restrained. “I got you.”
As if it’s all he needed to hear, to know that he is safe now, his body seems to give up on keeping him conscious and he sinks into a much different, more welcoming kind of darkness.
❁❁❁❁❁❁
The mirror never fails to reveal an unforgiving truth. Buck can only stare at himself as he stands in the harsh light of the bathroom, with nothing but a towel slung around his waist. He takes in the dark bruise on his thankfully unbroken cheek and the shadows that linger in his eyes. He’s back home now, surrounded by all that’s familiar, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s lucky to be alive. He’s lucky that Ravi was able to track the pictures they sent, even through the encrypted email. He’s lucky that he was close enough for Tommy and the others to get to him in time.
He’s lucky that the damage isn’t worse.
His eyes drop to the bandages on his wrists, where the ropes left deep burns and cuts, and he wonders if they’ll leave scars. He hopes that won’t happen. This day will haunt them long enough without a physical reminder. Lifting his eyes again, he grows still at the sight of Tommy over his shoulder, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. Buck knows he’s been in there too long, when he was just meant to be washing up. It’s no surprise to him that Tommy sought him out. His face is stone-like, giving away nothing of his thoughts.
That’s not much of a surprise either.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice a hoarse wreck.
 “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tommy responds.
Buck drops his eyes to the counter, where a pile of soft clothes waits for him. He reaches out and brushes his thumb over the collar of the shirt, realizing that he pulled it from Tommy’s side of the closet without really thinking.
“You warned me that this could happen,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t listen.”
“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for me. If you weren’t with me.”
Buck’s eyes snap up to the mirror again, his heart skipping a beat in his chest as his blood runs cold.
“I’m not leaving,” he says quickly, his eyes wide. “You-you can’t–you can’t.”
Panic claws at his chest, soothed only when Tommy closes the distance between them in several long strides. His touch is gentle as he turns Buck away from the mirror, pressing him back against the counter once they’re face to face. The lines on his face seem deeper somehow, as if he grieved a hundred years in a day.
“I should. If I were a stronger man, I would. But you’re right, I can’t. I can’t even think about it because I can’t breathe if I do,” Tommy says, his voice cracked and hurting as his eyes shine with unshed tears. “I couldn’t breathe, Evan. Every fucking second that passed and you weren’t here. And then I got those pictures, and I wanted to tear apart the entire goddamn world. Do you hear me? I would have destroyed everything to find you.”
Buck reaches up, cupping his face in his hands and nodding his head. He feels it too. That cord that’s wrapped around his heart, irrevocably tying him to this man.
“I know, baby. I know.”
Tommy clings to him, drawing him into a fierce kiss. It’s almost bruising in its intensity, and Buck responds every bit as desperately. It doesn’t matter that he aches, or that he’s tired, or that it’s been a long fucking day.
He’s alive, and he’s back with the man he loves.
That’s all that matters.
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flower-boi16 · 6 months
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Lily Orchard's Double Standards in Regards to Hunter
So one of Lily's critiques of Hunter is that it takes him "too long" to break from Belos' control (four episodes into his arc to be exact...which is not even that long. Like, at all). Ignoring how little water this critique holds by itself, time to bring up...
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Zuko. I have not seen Avatar the Last Airbender (I probably should lmao) but from what I've heard Zuko and Hunter have many similarities to each other, with a few major differences setting them apart. And Lily is known to like Zuko quite a bit...
...so...when does Zuko break from Ozai? Why, (from I've been told) it's mid-season 3...
...So Hunter takes four episodes to break from Belos in a single season and Lily complains about it being "too long", but when it takes Zuko almost the entire series to do the same for Ozai, she doesn't complain...
...that's...interesting...Oh, but I'm not done yet with the Zuko comparisons. In Lily's white favoritism video, Lily gets on Hunter's ass for kidnapping and almost forced a bunch of teenagers into the EC (conveniently ignoring the fact that he realized his mistake and fixed it two minutes later).
...even though Zuko did FAR WORSE than Hunter, yet NEVER gets of his ass for that. Oh, and apparently, to Lily, Zuko was never a villain and was "just an abuse victim escaping an abusive situation", yet she never applies this same logic to Hunter for SOME REASON despite their many similarities???
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Then there's Amity, a character in the same show as Hunter who also has some similarities to him, being a deliberate parallel to him. Bringing up Lily's complaint about Hunter taking "too long" to break from Belos, she, like with Zuko, doesn't apply the same critique to Amity for some reason...? Like, if you're going to complain about Hunter not breaking from Belos fast enough, why don't you complain about Amity not standing up to her mother quicker?
Hell, why don't you apply this to ANY character with and abusive parent?
....Oh, I know the reason why, actually; Hunter is an "angsty white boy", while Amity is a white girl and Zuko is Asian. The reason why Lily doesn't complain about these things for Amity and Zuko but she does for Hunter is because of his gender and skin color/ethnicity respectively. She's directly holding a double standard that she doesn't hold due to them not being "angsty white boys".
I've said it before, but Lily's critiques of Hunter are entirely biased around him being an “edgy white boy” and double standards like these clearly show that.
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eleonoraalbright · 2 months
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An Ill-Timed Confession Part 2
Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)
Summary: Peter Pan is loose in Storybrooke with revengeful schemes. Fortunately for you, the heroes and villains have a plan to stop him.
A/N: Thank you for the kind comments left on An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1! They really motivated me to write a second part.
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Careful not to trip over any headstones, you paced the forest’s floor in a restless manner. A few yards away Mr. Gold stretched out a hand, attempting to undo the magical wards Regina had placed around her vault. Bell was behind him offering silent encouragement for his swift success.
Tinkerbell, Baelfire, and Captain Hook stood off to one side; their faces betraying various degrees of distrust and doubt. Mary Margret, David, and Emma were in a separate group, talking in hushed voices. They seemed to be having an argument.
That left you and Henry alone. You stole a glance towards the boy who was still trapped in Pan’s body. For the hundredth time that day, you cursed yourself and your big mouth. Speech is silver, but silence is golden.
Oh, how you wished you had remembered that saying when accidentally telling Pan that he was hot. Why did you have this knack for getting yourself into these almost laughable scenarios? At least, it would have been laughable if you weren’t the person in it. Right now, the set of circumstances was terrifying.
At any moment, Pan could command his shadow to rip your own shadow from you, or worse abduct you. And what would happen then? You would be at his mercy until the others managed to switch Henry and Pan to their rightful bodies. If they ever did.
You knew from Henry’s storybook and real-life experiences that good somehow always did triumph in the end, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any casualties. What if this was the one time you didn’t make it to see the light of day?
Henry noticed you staring at him and raised an eyebrow in question, which sent another ripple of unease down your spine. Gods above and below, he was attractive when he did that.
In truth he was attractive all the time, but that cute little eyebrow quirk made your heart do a flip. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t Pan, he was Henry who was your dearest and closest friend for many years and someone you didn’t feel for in that way.
And even if he was Peter Pan, he would want to inflict such torment on everyone here in the graveyard that they would beg for death’s sweet release to escape him.
Peter Pan should not be the type of person who turned your insides into mush, your legs to jelly, made your heart beat faster and faster until it would burst from your chest leaving a bloody and gaping wound behind, and grant the death you craved for so you would not have to face the consequences of admitting to Pan himself that he was blessed genetically!
“Can you stop looking at me like that?” Henry’s words broke you out of your wild and frenzied thoughts. He shifted his weight to his other foot, avoiding your gaze and went on, “Like you want to kiss or stab me. Or both. It’s pretty weird.”
Hoping against all hope that you weren’t blushing, you let out a big sigh and dragged a hand down your face. You had to get these turbulent feelings under control for Henry’s sake. Being stuck in his great-grandfather’s body with his friend ogling him must have been a nightmare.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just have a lot of thoughts running through my mind and–” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t think we’ll win this time.”
He was startled at your blunt statement. “What? Of course we will. We have to. All we have to do is get me in my body and Pan in his body. Then we’ll imprison him and we’ll win.”
You snorted at your friend’s naiveté. You were sure that Mr. Gold had something more in mind than imprisonment for his father. The Pied Piper clearly couldn’t be stopped by simple incarceration; he had thousands of tricks up his sleeve to free himself.
Pan needed to die. As tasteless as killing was, what other option was there? You tried to cast away your misgivings about the possibility of overcoming Pan. You had to believe that victory and survival would be on your side, which was easier said than done.
“I’m afraid that Pan will put us all through the nine circles of hell. And I-I can’t go through that again.” Tears blurred your vision and your knees wobbled so bad that Henry had to help you stand up right as unbidden memories leaped into your mind about your hellish existence in a life lived long ago.
“It’ll be okay. My mom will save us. She’s the savior, it's kinda her thing.” Henry knew about your past. He read the story in his book, but that didn’t mean he would fully understand the terrors you had endured or why everything seemed so hopeless. You heard a sudden whoosh and saw the vault’s door creak open.
“Shall we?” Mr. Gold marched into the gloomy interior.
Emma, Mary Margret, David, Tinkerbell, Baelfire, Bell, and Captain Hook followed him. Emma ordered, “Wait here until we know the coast is clear.”
Normally you wouldn’t obey and would rush head first into danger, but a moment was needed to calm your addled mind. Besides, if Pan was in there, you weren’t too eager to see him. You took hold of your senses and forced air up your nose and out your mouth. This wasn’t the time to have a breakdown.
You needed to be composed for Henry's sake, even with his newly acquired height, he looked up to you for how to react to the ongoing madness in Storybrooke. Well, he used to, maybe that changed in the last twenty-four hours with you acting like a twitterpated school girl.
You heard Emma yell, “We’re clear down here!”
You and Henry raced downstairs to see the group clustered around Regina. The mayor was disoriented and brushing invisible flecks of dust off her pants. She was in the middle of saying, “–missed all the signs. I just wanted to believe he still needed me to be his mother.”
Without missing a beat, the boy next to you soothed her fear. “I still do.”
Regina gasped, “Henry?” She tilted her head in bewilderment and narrowed her eyes, not convinced he was her son.
He walked over and threw his arms around her. It was a touching scene to witness. Too bad you didn’t have a camera; it would be hilarious to have a picture of the former Evil Queen sharing an embrace with the Pied Piper.
Meanwhile, David asked a very pertinent question. “So what exactly did Pan come down here to get?” Mr. Gold raised his hand over an empty box before jerking it back, a frown fixed on his features. “What?”
A hint of exasperation leaked into the older man’s voice as he said, “Please tell me you didn’t keep it down here.”
Regina appeared to be almost contrite and she shrugged her shoulders. “Where else would I keep it?”
For a moment you thought Mr. Gold would strangle Regina with her own scarf or beat her with his cane. To what thing were they referring? You broke the heavy silence. “What is it? What did Pan take?”
Henry's grandfather answered, “He took the curse that brought everyone from the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke.”
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You sat down next to Henry with an arm thrown around his shoulders. He was nervous, fiddling in his seat. You couldn’t blame him; this was a high stakes situation.
When Mr. Gold used the black fairy’s wand to place him back in his proper body, Henry would have to find his family and give Regina the scroll so she could destroy it before the curse transformed Storybrooke into the New Neverland and made everyone in town Pan’s slaves.
Worried for his well-being, Emma asked her son, “You doing okay, kid?”
“Yeah, I’m just ready to be me again.”
“Not much longer now, Henry. Not much longer.” Mr. Gold flipped through his spell book. “Once we have the wand, all will be as it should.”
“And then you can help your mom save the day,” you added with a smile. It was your turn to provide reassurance whether or not you actually had confidence in this plan. No, no, that wasn’t right. You had to have hope that this would work out.
You would imitate Mary Margret and fully accept that a happy ending was in the future. “And when this blows over, we can have another party at Granny’s. Hopefully with more cake than last time because the sisters really plowed through them.”
Henry liked your suggestion. “That’d be nice. And maybe I don't have to have a bedtime either?”
Regina vetoed the idea. “Absolutely not, young man. You need your sleep, especially after all of this.”
The sound of footsteps stopped a discussion of the correct amount of sleep for a boy Henry’s age. David walked into the room with the rest of the gang behind him. “She’s back. The Blue Fairy. She gave us the wand.”
You exclaimed, “That’s great! Do we need anything else?”
“Only one more item.” Mr. Gold crossed to a cupboard and retrieved a black cuff and explained, when Snow inquired, that it would render anyone with magic utterly powerless.
Regina snapped at Hook, “I haven’t forgotten about all that, by the way.”
“May I see your wrist, Henry?” Ignoring her comment, he placed the cuff on his grandson. “I want to make sure that when my dear old dad awakes, that he’s weakened. This will block his powers. Now I enact the spell, you fall into a deep sleep and when you awake, you’re back in your own body.”
Regina told him, “And then you hang on to that scroll and you come find us as fast as you can.”
Henry contemplated their words then scoffed, “When I gave my heart to Pan, I thought I was being a hero… I'm sorry.”
You patted him on the back. David was about to speak, but you spoke first. “It was stupid thing to do, but it’s not like anyone here hasn’t done anything that stupid too.” You didn’t pay attention to the glares a few select people sent your way, and instead focused on Henry’s laugh.
Mr. Gold said it was time and you stood up as Henry laid back on the divan, apprehensive of what was to come soon. Everyone retreated a couple of steps back and watched the process. Mr. Gold tapped the wand on his forehead and, after a blinding flash of light, Pan’s body started violently convulsing.
“What’s happening?” Emma shared a concerned look with Baelfire.
“Henry’s spirit is leaving Pan’s body.”
You hoped Pan wasn’t anywhere near concrete. If Henry’s body dropped to the ground and hit his head, he was going to wake up with a bad ache. He stopped shaking and remained still.  “It worked!”
You were delighted the spell had been fortunate, however, some part of you was a tad sad. You wouldn’t be able to squish his cheeks again. You could try, but Pan would most likely chop your hands off for such an affront. No matter, there were more important things to do.
“Let’s go find our son.” Emma darted out of the shop with everyone except Mr. Gold and Pan accompanying her. “Where would he be?”
You proposed, “Let’s get Ruby or Granny! They’ll be able to track his smell!” Emma agreed with you and went to the diner to enlist Granny’s keen nose for the job. The elderly woman sniffed the air and it didn’t take long for her to pick up his scent. You ran down the street toward the clock tower and were overjoyed when you saw Henry—in his own body—run out of the library doors.
“It’s me! It’s me! It worked!” Both of his mothers enveloped him in a big hug. “Mom, Mom. I just saw you guys. You guys just saw me.”
 “But we didn’t see you.” Regina cupped his chin.
“And trust me that makes a real difference!” You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him tight, glad that Henry returned to his rightful body.
“Oh, he’s got it,” Emma said as her son gave her the scroll. She passed it to Regina. “It’s up to you now.”
The mayor hadn’t held the scroll for even five seconds when a bright flash of purple light illuminated from it and she passed out cold. “Regina! Regina!” You, Henry, Emma and Baelfire crouched next to her.
Dammit, with Regina unconscious, who could undo Pan’s curse? There couldn’t be that much time left. Emma continued to call Regina’s name and shake her. Gasping, Regina opened her eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just… I saw what needed to be done.”
“Mom, are you gonna be okay?”
You had a gut feeling that she wasn’t. As you suspected, she side-stepped his concern. “The important thing is you will be.”
The scroll vanished from Regina’s grasp. “No, he won’t.”
Your stomach dropped when you heard the dreaded voice. Your head whipped backwards to see Pan walking towards the group. Everyone backed up several paces. You shouted, “Watch out! He has the–”
You were cut short as an eerie red glow alighted over your and everybody else's bodies. It was as if molasses had coated your entire person, slowing down your movements until it hardened. The enchantment froze every single one of your limbs; it was difficult even to breathe.
Beaming from ear-to-ear, Pan finished your sentence. “Curse.  How observant that I do. Look at you all. A captive audience.” He took his time inspecting each and everyone of you. His gaze lingered on you last. “I could play with you like a pack of dolls, couldn’t I? You’d like that, wouldn't you?”
He pointed an accusing finger in your direction. He came closer and whispered, “I have a special treat for you for that wonderful but woefully timed statement you confessed to me. It was delightful to know the peculiar effect I have on you.”
You were grateful that your features were frozen to hide the terror swirling and building up inside you. Had you the ability to move, the road would have been sprayed with your vomit. Relief overtook you when Mr. Gold hobbled up to his father and gripped his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin could save everyone right? He growled, “Stay away from them.”
Pan performed the same freezing spell on his son. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you haven't learned your lesson, have you Rumple? You should’ve stayed where you were, cowering, but I suppose you wanted a front row seat when my little curse descends upon your woved ones. Glutton for punishment, aren’t you? Don’t worry. They’ll be more of that. For all of you.” Pan disappeared without a trace and you were released from his spell.
You collapsed to the ground in a heap. Your fingernails dug into the cracked pavement. Everything was numb. Around you the others were talking in frantic voices, trying to figure out a way to thwart Pan’s plan, to find a miracle to save the day.
Someone was crying out that the curse was here. In the distance, getting closer and closer, you saw the green smoke that signified the town’s demise. You failed. 
Nothing could be done about that. You would forget your memories, forget your family and friends, forget who you were and become Pan’s plaything.
The thick smoke obscured your surroundings and filled your lungs. Your brain was getting foggy; it was too exhausting to think. You should sleep. One final thought echoed through your mind—Peter Pan won.
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