#you like suits bruv? me too.

[art-from-within]

“Let me in Mark! I have a gift for you! Please, I have a present! I have a surprise! I will not hurt you-”

(Still images/without sparks for joyless people)

[katsumiiii]

hobie x fem! reader

thinking of hobie brown rn…!

hobie who knows you love the height difference between you two and uses it to his advantage. is constantly angling his head upwards, which causes him to purposely peer down at you through his thick eyelashes. you always get flustered each time he narrows his eyes and tilts his chin, and him being the ever so perceptive spider he is, takes notice of your heated cheeks and continues to do so.

whenever he’s near a doorway or a thick frame he lovesss to lay a palm on the top of it, trapping your body beneath his as you ramble on about whatever it is you’re rambling about. he makes sure to nod along while effectively moving a hand towards your plush waist, bringing your figure flush against his own. he plays with the seam of your shirt, and urges you to keep going when you stutter from the sudden change in position.

hobie who loves to annoy you with his British slang. it’s not necessarily because he uses it often that irks you, it’s the fact that you have no idea what he’s saying and he never makes an effort to help you understand. (he actually finds it amusing each time you attempt to guess what he means and is completely off base every single time).

“babe, I’d love ta get ya that shirt you’ve been beggin’ for, but I’m skint right now. try me next week, yeah?” he hummed, kicking his feet up on the railing next to your bed.

“skint? I feel like you’ve used that one before..” you muttered, huffing in irritation by the smug look on hobie’s face, his lips quirked in amusement.

“told ya what it meant last week. thought ya said you could ‘se context clues?”

“whatever bee, maybe you should speak english.”

“‘aint that what ‘m doin’?”

hobie who always has a blunt neatly rolled on his dresser, his ash tray placed gently to the left of it. he often smoked before running off to whatever it is he did when he wasn’t home (he was very unpredictable as he switched it up weekly to “fuck up consistency” whatever the hell that meant).

hobie inhaled gingerly before tilting his head towards his peeling painted ceiling, his fingers lingered tightly on the wood before lifting it to your lips, “want a go?”

you shook your head, nuzzling further into his shoulder, “mhm no, too tired.” hobie chuckled before greedily puffing the joint, shuttering at the burning feeling it left.

“suit yourself love, more for me.”

hobie who you introduce differently to your friends each time you bring him up. one day he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s your significant other, and the next he’s your ‘close friend’. they always question the constant switch ups, but you don’t ever seem to mind. you know where you stand with the man, and to him that’s all that matters.

“so what’s up with you and…..” your friend trailed off, stirring the ice in her drink.

“hobie?” you questioned.

“yeah him, so is he your boyfriend or what?”

“it’s complicated, he hates labels, makes him feel confined.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you lay your head on your palm.

“that doesn’t bother you? is he like scared of commitment or something?”

you scoff, lightly shaking your head, “no, he just doesn’t want to contribute to the system.” you answered bluntly, taking another sip of your lemonade.

“the system?” your friend asked, eyebrow raised at the quip.

“nevermind, don’t worry about it.”

hobie who subtly brags about you to his people. loves to show you off, and has no problem admitting he does.

“yeah bruv, my girl jus’ got into her dream fuckin’ college. been workin’ hard for that shit all year, man.” hobie boasted, pushing his hands out in order to bounce off the wall next to him.

“oh my goodness how wonderful! when do we get to meet this companion of yours?” pavitr questioned, flinging his body upwards to keep up with the male to his right.

“eh, don’t know yet, when I feel like it, yeah?”

all in all hobie is so cute and I literally am in love with him!!

[rhey-007]

The Mystery of Love

Fernando Alonso family fluff

|| P2 of Fernando x goth mommy!reader

• | socialmedia au

Summary: After spending the night with THE Fernando Alonso, you two start to act like an old married couple. The following day after your escapade, Fernando invites you to the German GP where all hell breaks loose and rumours start to spread like crazy.

A/N: P2 of "Love is a flame that thrives in the darkest corners of our hearts". I regret choosing such a long title... -_- I had to change it. Aaaanyway... I can't let go of this little fam wjnvhebhvb So I decided I'll make more! I'm really into socialmedia au's recently (if you haven't noticed) and thought that it suits well to continue this as a socialmedia au fic. I already am making another part cause my brain is flooding with ideas. So if you'd like to be added to the tag list just lemme know! Enjoy!

Masterlist

✧༺🌊༻✧

F1 NEWS

Fernando Alonso noticed on the paddock in company of a mysterious woman and... Kids?

Spanish F1 driver Fernando Alonso arrived to the German GP with a mysterious woman and kids. Asked about their relationship the man denied anything romantic.

"Y/N is just my close friend and the kids are NOT mine. I invited them over as the boys are in love with this sport, and the small one is finally old enough to come and watch"

The man explained. But is this the truth? Fans already noticed Fernando didn't spare the woman compliments nor sweet words. And the way he interacted with the little boy caught their attention too.

Will we see the family alongside Alonso again?

F1 NEWS

Fernando Alonso winner of the German GP!

"I'm so grateful for Y/N and her sons for joining me today. [...] They're my lucky charms. [...] Without them I wouldn't be even on the podium"

Said Alonso in an interview with F1 News after his win in Germany.

His words only made fans believe that the mysterious woman is more than just a friend for the Spaniard. Will we see the family again next week in Spielberg, Austria?

Fernando was quick to answer our question, with great enthusiasm and hope.

"Hopefully. I wish they could attend every race but unfortunately it's not possible. The time will show though"

✧༺🌊༻✧

INSTAGRAM

liked by sebastianvettel, lance_stroll, astonmartinf1 and 198,200 others

•fernandoalo_oficial: Thank you for being with me in Berlin and helping me win!!!

•user1: the kid adopted him and he adopted the kid. change my mind (you can't)

•user2: they're so cute together dhuwhdxkxjidh!!!

•sebastianvettel: great to see you finally happy! sending love for the new fam! 💞

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: calm down Seb were not together

→ •sebastianvettel: shush I know better 😏

→ •user3: spill the tea bruv ☕

→ •sebastianvettel: nope 🤭

•user4: love how the kid couldn't peel off you throughout all the interviews! You two are so cute!!! 💞

•lance_stroll: old man finally found himself love! Good for you!

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: I'm not old...

→ •lance_stroll: sorry pop's 👴

INSTAGRAM

liked by f1, astonmartinf1 and 250,376 others

•fernandoalo_oficial: another tiring weekend, this time in Spielberg, Austria 💪🦬

•user5: Nando turned into a dad

→ •user6: imagine having such a cool and hot daddy 😩😎

•maxverstappen: those good luck charms of yours work too good... And are too sweet! 💞

→ •charles_leclerc: agree.

→ •danielricciardo: me too! the little one even called me uncle 😭✋

→ •user7: not the random kid already stealing all the drivers hearts and calling them uncles 😭💞

→ •user8: I think he stole all of our hearts...

•user9: is the older one single?

→ •user10: we need his ig 😩✋

✧༺🌊༻✧

INSTAGRAM

liked by y/n._.l/n, fernandoalo_oficial and 365 others

•kl.au_s: great weekend in Spain! just wish I could be there alone...

•fernandoalo_oficial: alone?! then who would take you those sick photos?!

→ •kl.au_s: not you old man

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: you didn't even tag me :(

that's mean...

•user11: WE FOUND HIM!!!

•user12: THE Fernando Alonso is your stepdad and you DARE to complain???

→ •kl.au_s: he ain't no one's step dad 😑

•user13: you single? asking for a friend 👀👉👈

F1 NEWS

Fernando Alonso spotted yachting with the strange woman's older son.

Fernando Alonso got spotted in Spain, yachting with the son of his close 'friend'. Fans start to suspect the boy was sent there to make up with his soon to be stepdad, after noticing their weird dynamic under the boy's Instagram post.

The rumors are spreading like crazy, although the driver keeps denying every single one of them. Will we ever know the truth?

✧༺🌊༻✧

Tag list: @morgan-getty

[ominoose]

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Summary: Random drabble's about Steven Grant meeting other Oscar Isaac characters. No Marc or Jake co-concious, only referenced. Characters: Basil Stitt, Leto Atreides, Poe Dameron A/N: This randomly hit me and I wanted to write it because it was funny. Used a spinny wheel for it. Also idk if BB-8 can do that but now he can.

London was it's usual muggy, busy self as Steven ran down the street, hoping to catch the bus to work. It had been hard enough to get a job after the Museum Incident, but maintaining a position was proving to be a much harder endeavor between his abnormal sleeping patterns and head mates.

"Oi! Wait, please!" Steven was within touching distance just as the bus sped off, and at the lack of anything to rest his weight on or break his fall, the man found himself tumbling face first into traffic.

☽ 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭 (Lightningface)

+ When Steven first wakes up in the apartment, his first thought is that he's woken up in a bomb site. The apartment is a mess, furniture and clothes strewn everywhere haphazardly. He's momentarily glad Marc isn't replying in his head, knowing the American would have an aneurysm over the state of the place.

+ Basil is the one to find Steven, jumping up from his spot on the couch and staring at him like he's an alien. The first thought in his mind is that Ricky the Monkey did some crazy magic and brought a clone to replace him. Poor Steven barely has a chance to process the situation before he's trying to calm his scarred, other American look alike down and explain his situation. Nothing manages to convince Basil there isn't some magic going on here, but he stops viewing Steven as an evil replacement.

+ After the initial shock and awkward introductions, they manage to sit down and chat for a few minutes. Basil shares the story of the lightning strike, insisting that its imbued him with magical powers. Steven, bless his heart, immediately believes this and boasts about his own moon powers too.

"You know, I've always wanted to try jumping off the roof and flying, have you done that?"

"Oh no, my mate Marc usually handles that, but maybe we can practice together? Have you got a suit as well?"

"Yeah, it's this paper bag and bed sheet I fixed up myself! C'mon, I have a stool on the balcony-"

"Wait, hang about.... Actually, mate, on second thoughts, lets not."

+ Steven ends up convincing Basil to properly fix his apartment, not just brush away the broken shards and dust. So that's what they do for a while, busying themselves as they theorize on how to get Steven back home with only a handful of brain cells between them. Basil listens with surprising intensity when Steven ends up branching off into Egyptology tangents, and likewise Steven nods along when Basil brings up all the documentaries he'd watched recently. In the end, the apartment does end up in much better shape, and the pair become quite chummy.

"Damn. Thanks for the help... Maybe I did overreact a bit."

"Yeah, it's no problem bruvs, it happens. Surprised the doctors didn't give you anymore meds, though I suppose over here its not like the NHS."

"Oh, no I didn't go to the hospital."

"...You wot?!"

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 (Dune)

+ Coming to on hot, sandy slabs is enough of a trigger point to Steven Grant as they come. Coming to on hot, sandy slabs with weird astronauts in suits pointing space guns at him goes beyond frighting and circles back into 'Shit yourself' territory. Thankfully they seem to speak English. Unfortunately, his high pitched screams and babbling British noises don't make sense to them while they peer down their guns at him with confusion. It isn't until a booming voice draws everyone's attention that Steven gets a chance to breath.

+ Said breath is swiftly knocked back out of Stevens lungs when a wiser, nobler and older version of him walks into the room, commanding the attention of every single space soldier in the room. The man stares down at him as he lays huddled on the ground, curled into himself, and quirks a single well groomed eyebrow at him.

"I am Duke Leto of House Atreides. You have penetrated your way into my home. Who are you?"

"I-I-I'm S-Steven Grant. Of the... Giftshop."

The Duke continues his stony stare at Steven for a few seconds longer before holding out a calloused hand.

"Well Steven of the Giftshop, I think we both have many questions for one another, and hopefully some answers."

+ When Steven finally gets over being starstruck at the dignified, royal version of himself, and when Leto makes the accidental mistake of mentioning that they're billions of years in the future on another planet, Steven freaks out, having a 10 minute long panic attack. When that's over he geeks out instead, asking a million questions about technology, using apologies as commas and full stops.

"Do people still know about Khonshu in this era?!"

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that name."

"Lucky sod."

+ Leto thinks the strange, weird sounding clone of himself is a schizophrenic long lost cousin, but at lease he isn't trying to kill him over a title. It's not as common in Arrakis, or the general noble courts, to find someone as earnest, honest and willing to learn as Steven seems to be, which earns him a surprising amount of respect from the Duke.

𝐏𝐨𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 (Star Wars)

+ Waking up in a space ship that's doing somersaults mid-battle while dodging and weaving around beams trying to explode it out of the sky was almost as stressful as waking up on a London bus at 8am. Commendably, Steven didn't scream or cry, but simply had a silent panic attack until a rolling white and orange ball started beeping at him, or rather the ridiculously handsome version of him currently flying the plane.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get on my cruiser?!"

"Bloody hell, not another handsome American me!"

"What?! BB-8, check for a concussion!"

+ After being given a water bottle by the polite little droid, Steven finally managed to calm himself down by the time the ship touch down and the pilot in matching droid colours sprang before him, launching question after question. When he clocked Stevens face, he was speechless, brows slowly knitting over his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him. Mid stare-down BB-8 nicked the Brits skin, running a quick diagnostic test and beeping the results out to the pilot who's eyebrows swiftly un-knitted at the noises.

+ Taking advantage of the silence, Steven tries to explain himself and his situation, insisting he comes in peace and simply wanted to get home before Donna got another excuse to give him the sack. The pilot finally introduced himself as Poe, the best pilot in the resistance at that, and with a sigh he promised to try and figure out how to get Steven back to whatever galaxy London was from.

+ Poe tries to explain the resistance and the empire to Steven, who in turn compares it to Ammits cult and jointly rants about those who take choice and freedom from the innocent. Poe is happy enough that his weird blood ancestor is with the resistance, even if he does constantly regard him with a quirked eyebrow, wondering how in the universe he managed to evolve from this walking concussion. For a second time Poe is rendered silent as Steven mentions being Moonknight.

"Oh yeah, I've done that too, at least those Jedi blokes doesn't send their jackals after you though!"

"You've... fought? In battle?"

"Course, yeah. Fought off giant gods back to the underworld, stopped the day of reckoning as the souls of the living were flooding the underworld. It was just the other day actually."

"...You killed god?!"

+ Steven absolutely adores BB-8 and Leia, a feeling the bot and all of the resistance seem to happily return, much to the dismay of Poe. Steven's quite flustered from all the attention and questions, leaving Poe to drag him away in a huff, claiming they need to get back to figuring out how to send him home. It feels like a babysitting gig more than anything, but deep down it strokes Poe's ego when Steven ooh's and ahh's at all his resistance tales.

[soft--dragon]

Crashing For The Night

Whoop whoop first Spiderverse fic!! :D This is set in an alternate or future universe where all the spider people can freely jump dimensions to see people they know and everything is chill.

(The last spider-verse movie gave me the big sad and I'm hoping the third one gives us an ending where the spiders can see each other whenever they want)

ALL PLATONIC, PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Word Count: 2,225

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

“Oi bruv, tip for being quiet? Stop tramping around like a cobbler up there, you’re gonna put scuff marks on me ceiling.”

Hobie turned his head fractionally to side-eye the roof of his London apartment, and as he expected, a familiar black and red spider suit rippled into sight. A loud sigh was released from the intruder.  

“Thought I was getting better at this,” Miles muttered bitterly. 

“Gotta be slicker than that to catch me off guard, mate,” Hobie smirked and turned to lean against his desk, waving a hand to the boy. “Now get off the bloody roof, would ya?”

Miles sighed again and let his feet detach from the wooden planks, leaving a hand to suspend him over the floor before dropping lightly onto the thick carpet. “Um… sorry for sneaking in.”

“Aye, I’m not miffed about it, Gwendy’s done it enough for me to be used to spiders creeping in at random times.”

Hobie hefted himself off of the desk and approached the smaller teen, taking stock of his heavy undereye bags and wilted posture. With a long eye roll, he slung a gangly arm around Miles’s shoulders and pressed him against his side, feeling the boy melt against him and drop most of his weight against the taller Spiderman. 

Hobie frowned deeper in concern. “You alright, mate?” He asked, his thick, British accent softened for the kid he was embracing gently. It felt like one squeeze too hard would shatter the poor spiderling. 

The muted traffic honking outside Hobie’s window filled the quiet his query left behind - Miles oddly silent in Hobie’s one-armed hug and head heavy on the taller teen’s shoulder. Hobie let the lack of reply hang for a moment before gently tugging Miles over to the blanket-laden couch. He flopped down, dragging Miles onto the cushions with him, and propped his boot up onto the coffee table. 

“C’mon mate, you look utterly zonked. What happened?” 

Miles huffed softly, his lips twitching at Hobie’s odd slang. However, his brief glint of amusement died as quickly as it had arrived. He messed with his fingernails, trying to focus on something else besides the tight ball of anxiety that had been rolling in his gut for the better part of the last hour.

“Just…, my parents again.” His voice lacked its usual spark, something Hobie caught onto immediately and hummed.

“ ‘Nother spat, huh?”

Miles groaned and dragged his hands over his face, staring at the wood ceiling and noticing a slight scuff mark his Jordans undoubtedly made. He hoped Hobie didn’t see them too. “They’re being a bit too much lately- and I know they’re just looking out for me, I know that, but they’re always- they just- ughh.” 

Miles pulled away from the taller boy to lean his elbows on his knees and bury his eyes into his palms, exhaling heavily. Hobie just rubbed his back and waited patiently. He’d been faced with this kind of behavior before - after all, you didn’t make friends with Gwen Stacey and not have a fair share of emotionally overwhelmed moments. A moment or two passed, and then Miles lifted his face from his hands to interlock his fingers in front of his chin, using his thumbs to balance his jaw.

“...They’re always trying to control my life in some way or another. I feel… I don’t know, suffocated? I- ugh, god, that sounds harsh- I’m happy they’re there, obviously. I just can’t handle it twenty-four-seven. You know?” 

Hobie nodded at the end of Miles's speedy rambles, patting his back gently. "Hover parenting, huh? Sounds like a damn nightmare." 

Miles grumbled and flopped back onto the couch, crossing his arms tightly. "Yeah… I’m just worried that if I tell them to back off they'll be offended and ground me." 

"Just like the government," Hobie clicked his tongue, "always trying to make the people do what they want and punishing the lot of them when they rebel" 

Miles huffed a small laugh and turned his head to look up at Hobie in fond amusement. "You're genuinely comparing my parents' helicopter parenting to government control?" 

Hobie shrugged. "My brand, innit? I see an opportunity, I'll take it." 

"Jeez man," Miles chuckled, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. 

"Oi, don't diss my mannerisms mate, besides, it made you laugh didn't it?" 

Miles rolled his eyes and balanced his cheek on his fist, smirking up at the taller boy under a dry, half-lidded stare. "Sure." 

The punk-coded Spiderman frowned, leaning forward into the younger boy's space. "You being sarcastic with me?" 

"Wha- me? Me? No, I would never." Hobie was elated to see Miles grinning as he spoke, holding his hands up in surrender. 

As Hobie glared playfully at him, he saw past Miles's undereye bags and exhausted frame - noticing the spark in his eyes was starting to return. Hmm, good. It was time to make it come back entirely. Hobie didn’t like seeing his little brother so low. ‘Annoying, yet well-meaning Big Brother’ was gonna have to come out and play now. 

Never none to delay an opportunity to make Miles's mood improve, Hobie straightened his posture to prepare for his future scheme. “I don’t like liars, Morales,” he said, snatching the boy into his arms in a quick movement, one arm wrapped around Miles’ torso while the free hand scrubbed ruthlessly over his mop of thick curls. “And my spider senses tell me ya fibbin’.” 

“Ack- Hobie!” Miles's choked outcry was quickly swallowed up by his peals of laughter, Hobie’s knuckles having jumped from his hair to dig into his ribcage. “Nohoho! Nohohot thahahat!”

The boy immediately tried to wrench himself away from the British Spiderman, his legs flying out and catching the coffee table, causing it to rattle loudly. 

Hobie let out a bemused breath, flipping Miles onto his back and leering down at him with a playful glare. “Oh, so you first scuffed up my ceiling and now you’re damaging my furniture? That’s not on, little spiderling.”

Miles's shoulders bounced with his bright cackles, folding into himself as nimble fingers fluttered across his sides and abdomen quickly, light as air and shifting too fast for him to figure out a way to fight back. 

Desperate to weasel himself out of the unexpected attack he gasped out, “I-ihihihi- I dihihidn’t schuhuhuff yohour ceilihihing!” It felt like a flimsy rebuttal even to him. Hobie clearly thought so too when he scoffed with an amused grin. 

“I have eyes, you bellend, I can see the marks clear as day. And you know what you’ve just done? You lied again. Seriously, who taught you to be such a delinquent?” 

Oh man, Miles was gonna regret answering that, but the opportunity was right there. Summoning the same courage he used when facing down Miguel, he shot back, “Yohou dihihid!” 

Hobie paused in his mischievous actions, looking down at Miles who was doing his best to sink into the older boy’s legs and hopefully disappear from existence. He was watching closely as Hobie absorbed that answer, nervous giggles sputtering out of him the longer the silence dragged out - both from the anticipation and the aftermath of the sudden tickle attack. Then, finally, Hobie grinned, ominous yet proud at the same time. 

“Damn right I did,” he said after a moment, then the other shoe dropped. “Now, I gotta show you what happens to delinquents who don’t know when to run when they’ve been given a chance to escape.”

The reply made Miles balk, a delayed folly of a getaway ruined when Hobie latched onto his upper rib cage and dug his thumbs into Miles’s armpits. The sound that was wrangled out of the boy was both comically loud and hilarious, a squeaky yelp chased by peals of wild laughter. 

Miles curled into a ball, legs kicking out from where they were sprawled out across the couch cushions while his torso bent and squirmed from Hobie’s lap. His gasps of laughter were punctuated by voice cracks, the tail end of puberty still clinging to Miles though he tried to convince himself he’d finished with it. 

Hobie’s sinister smirk melted into a warm grin, laughing a bit himself. “Are you trying to high beam your worst spot to the world with your suit, Miles? You’ve literally got red highlights as racing stripes under your armpits. You’re lucky a supervillain hasn’t caught onto the obvious clue yet, you’d be as good as done for.”

Miles grabbed at Hobie’s wrists, shaking his head from side to side to bear the rushing tingles twirling throughout his nervous system that made his spider-sense go skewed and essentially shut down - conflicted with the threat of a possible danger and Mile’s gleeful emotions from the light-hearted tousling. 

“Ihihi alreheheady hahave a supervillahahain messing wihihiith me!”

“Yeah, and I’m the most merciful one you’ll ever get.”

Miles gave a particularly endearing squeal when Hobie’s fingers found that awful little spot just below his shoulder blades. “THIHIhihis ihihis mercehehehey?!” He gasped incredulously, wrenching away from Hobie on instinct and almost tumbling off the couch.

Hobie’s hands lunged out and scooped Miles back against his chest, releasing a quick, relieved breath for his spider sense. “Yeah,” Hobie snickered, “a real supervillain would’ve let you fall.”

Grateful for the break, Miles breathed in deeply, releasing it in a fast exhale as he leaned back heavily against Hobie. “Good,” he answered after a moment, “it would’ve got me an escape route so I could get you back.”

Hobie snickered, tipping his head to the side to catch Miles’s tired, half-lidded stare - noting the spark and warmth was back in those caramel brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re up for any revenge tonight, big man,” he grinned. 

Miles would’ve flipped Hobie off, but damnit he was tired and he didn’t want to provoke another round of tickling. Hobie seemed to have caught on that Miles was fading a bit, and gently shifted the boy off his lap so he could lie down on the couch fully. Hobie dragged one of the many quilted blankets off of the couch and draped it over Miles, smirking when the younger Spiderman fisted the blanket and tugged it up to his chin. 

“So, feeling better then?” Hobie asked, sitting on the coffee table as Miles got comfortable. 

Miles paused in his movements to glare at him flatly. “After you bullied and tortured me for fifteen minutes?”

Hobie snickered. “It was barely ten, you diva,” he argued lightly. 

Miles pouted slightly but nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I feel better. I know my parents are just looking out for me, I think I just need to ask them to be a little less.. Well..”

“Helicopter-ory about it?”

“That doesn’t sound like a word.”

“Okay, and what are you? The word police?”

Miles grinned into the quilt, amused to no end by how Hobie always seemed ready to jump on anything that sounded close to something he’d support or attack in the name of his brand. “If there was a word police, you would’ve broken it down by now.”

“Damn right, I would’ve.”

A hand planted itself in Miles’s hair, gently messing with the bouncy curls. “And hey, if that conversation doesn’t go over well, this dimension is always welcome to you. You’ve got the watch, pop in whenever you need an escape or just wanna see me.”

Miles covered his softened heart with a flat look. “So you can tickle me to oblivion again?”

“Only if you deserve it,” Hobie gave a wink and took his hand from Miles’s curls. “Besides, you seemed like you needed that laugh too.”

Miles’s mouth disappeared under the blanket as he grumbled to himself, muffling the denial undoubtedly rambling out. That was okay, Hobie knew he was right. He stood from the couch, stretching his arms high above his head to get the crick out of his back. 

“Also, you can crash here for the night mate, you’re half asleep already.”

“No, ‘m not.”

“Sure, spiderling,” Hobie tweaked Miles’s toes in passing the couch, relishing in the high-pitched squeak and flinch he got. “I’m not gonna make you go home when you���re wiped out like this, Gwen has slept on that exact couch and said it’s comfy. Telling ya that cause you ain’t stealing my bed.”

He heard Miles hum drowsily as he turned off the mismatched lamps in his living room, bathing the space in a gentle glow of the city lights outside - cosy and unobtrusive. “I don’t think I could move if I want’d to.”

“Good, stay there and knock out.”

The soft chuckle he got made him smile. Hobie carefully stepped over the AMP cords strewn about the living space and headed for the closest door. “Goodnight, Miles,” he called softly.

“Mnrgh, g’night…”

Hobie went to leave and then paused. With a grin, he turned his head to say, “You’re helping me cook breakfast tomorrow by the way.”

Miles laughed again, sleepy and warm. “I know how to burn water and explode eggs.”

“Excellent, be unique, and destroy social constructs. Who says you gotta be normal when cooking eggs?”

Miles snorted. “Go to bed, Hobie.”

Hobie smiled and knocked twice on the doorframe. “Night little spiderling.” He said, stepping through to his room, leaving a content and peaceful Miles Morales to snooze on his couch.

[eezeybreezy]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀᴛ ➜ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I have fallen to the Hobie brain rot and this is the result. This was a lot longer than intended so now it's broken into multiple chapters! Lmk if I should post those too or if this is too cringe.  Part 2, Part 3, Part 4🔞

warnings: suggestive, not-so-accurate accent, recreational drug/alcohol use, partying, punk shit, eventual smut? 

As they entered the headquarters, the pair were met with a cacophony of sound and movement. People in spider suits and uniforms hurried to and fro, carrying files, and talking urgently on their phones or to each other. Clearly, this was a place of importance, filled with sensitive work and decisions.

The first was a young woman, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail and dressed in a long, flowing maxi skirt in earthy tones, paired with a crochet top. Adorned with beads or other natural details, she walked confidently, looking around with a sharp eye and taking in every detail. The second was a young man, his steps a little slower and his gaze mellow. He was dressed in a concoction of ripped fabrics, belts, and buttons, his studded vest and chunky boots a signature in the halls they walked.

"Wow," breathed the woman, taking in the bustling scene. "I knew this was a big deal, but I had no idea.."

The man chuckled. "Told you it was the real deal."

The Spider you’d come to know was none other than Hobie Brown, a stand-out among his peers and variants alike. You’d only met after being rounded up as an anomaly, though you’d come to the HQ willingly, as any means to getting home was better than being stranded in some uppity renaissance dimension. After learning of your role as the Black Cat in your world, the punk had found a new friend in an unexpected place.

“Hm…” Hobie peered at you absentmindedly, seemingly turning something over in his head.

You didn’t like that look, and knowing the kinds of ideas an anarchist could come up with, you decide to pry, “What’s up?”

Hobie finally looked at you and not through you, “How did you get those abilities bruv like, I was bit by a radioactive spider so I have spider DNA in me, but how’d you get ‘em?”

“Hear me out, a cat bit me. But she wasn’t radioactive or anything, actually quite sweet.”

“Wait wait wait, you ‘ere bitten… by a cat? And you now have abilities like me??”

You giggled at this, he’s dumbfounded over a cat but a radioactive spider giving powers is the norm around here. “I don’t know about ‘like you’ per say.’

“Aight, maybe not exactly like me, but it’s similar yeah? You have wall-crawling abilities I presume or am I wrong? And probably enhanced strength?”

Why the sudden interest in my abilities, you thought. “I mean I do have enhanced strength and speed, but I can only climb up walls with my claws, I don’t stick like you all do,” referring to the bustling crowd of Spider-people you found yourself in the presence of.

“I see, then I have one last question… What does your suit look like? I’m proper curious ‘bout that.”

Now this was unexpected, not only was he interested in your powers, but your alter ego altogether. In the few months, you’ve been friends, little was spoken about your homeworld, let alone the role you play in that dimension. You wonder what’s gotten him so interested, and so you decide to tease a little, getting Hobie Brown flustered was something very few could boast.

“You ever been to a BDSM club? It’s like a leather dominatrix suit

“…” “That’s… huh.”

“Problem ‘Obie?” You poke at him playfully, gliding to stand closer to the slender man.

“Not at all… can’t say I’m not confused though…” he trailed off. “But hey, as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man it’s not my problem that you have an… um… interesting taste in fashion.”

That got a snort out of you, “You’re one to talk about ‘interesting taste in fashion’, Mr. Spider Punk.”

A sigh comes from the taller man. “Fine. You win.”

Deciding to toy with him further, you play nonchalant and petty, “If I’m so annoying I’ll just leave then. I enjoyed meeting you Punk.”

“Oi oi, I didn’t mean to insult you, I swear… I'll be 'onest wiv ya, mate. I don't really know what I'm doin' 'ere. I'm just takin' it one day at a time and seein' where it takes me.” He looked up from the ground to look at you again, something sad in his eyes. “Life's a funny old game, ain't it?"

“The rockstar runway model is bad with people? Color me shocked”

Hobie let out a huff of air, which you could only assume mimicked a laugh, “Is that meant to be an insult or genuine criticism?”

“I was being serious Hobie, you seem to have a good handle on people. You’re just so cool I thought maybe you’d have it down by now” Despite wanting to crawl into a hole at your admission, you said it with your chest, and you’re not about to back out now.

He’s quite surprised by this, not anticipating such a blatant compliment from you. “Huh… you’re actually pretty rad yourself. Most people don’t think that and just call me a freak.”

“I mean I’d say I’ma freak too but that hasn’t gotten me any complaints if you know what I mean.” You say with a wink, deciding to lay it on thick.

He smirks at you, catching the vibes you're putting down quickly. “Oh, I understand what you mean. I just didn’t expect you to be this forward luv.”

“What’s the phrase? ‘You miss 100% something something-”

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take?”

“Yeah yeah somethin like that”, you past your giggles. “You tryna get out of here?”

Hobie looks at you almost sideways, and if you didn’t know him better, you’d be put off by the glare. “Get out of here and do what exactly? What’re you planning?” He takes a step towards you, covering more ground than you’d anticipated due to his long strides. He was so close.

“I’m not dumb, I can tell you’re trying to trick me into something, but I’m not quite sure what…”

You smile at that, despite telling the truth, he’d managed to tease you in the process. We’re in the clear. “No trick here, not today at least.”

You look at him through thick lashes, “Did you have any ideas Spidey?” you ask coyly.

The punk chuckles,

“Ah, the ol’ playing coy shtick ‘uh? Not that I have anything against it, honest with you I kinda like it.”

Your tone is drenched in sarcasm, “Me? Coy? What kind of women do you take me for?” You’re feigning being offended, and he continues your banter. He laughs in a friendly way, deeply and honestly, a sound you wish was heard more often by the masses.

“Oh trust me you’re not like the other girls. You’re cool.”

“I’m not like other girls,” you say mockingly, trying to keep him amused. “So, what’s the punk down to do?”

Hobie’s face lights up with excitement, “I know just the place. Ever been to a punk rock show? There’s always tons of wankers to hang out with and it’s basically a Beano with loud ass music.”

You’d know about Spider-Man in front of you’s reputation, his subtle flex of eclectic success was something you’d come to admire about him. “I’ve had my fair share of underground events, though I’d call myself more goth than punk, you ever been to a goth club? I’m down to go to one of your shows if the anarchist is down to do some substances with me.”

He perked up at this. “Hell yeah, I’d be down, I love partying. Although, can I ask what kind of… substances you’re planning on using? I wanna make sure I bring the right shit.”

“Fuck no nothing hard, just weed and drinks will do it for me. That’s pretty stereotypical punk shit tho huh?”

“Yeah, well stereotypes exist for a reason. Though the whole ‘punks are stoners’ stereotype always bothers me, I never got why people think punk = drug abuse…” He shrugs.

The hair feels heavier, don’t kill the mood now! “ Well I do love me some weed, and hell yeah it’d be great to drink with you and have fun.” You keep going, hoping to bring that light back to the spider that was there but a moment ago. “I think the whole stereotype thing is stupid, but I totally understand why it doesn’t make sense to you, hating labels and all that.” You punctuate the end of your sentence with a punch to his shoulder.

“Alright, lead the way ‘Obie!”

He chuckles a bit at that, and playfully shoves you back into the portal he’s opened. You always land on your feet as you enter his dimension with a thud. He’s crouched next to you, standing to take off his mask and tuck his suit away.  

“What was that for huh? I know you can punch ‘arder than that.”

He closes the portal and starts walking towards the club, throwing you a glance over his shoulder. He beckons you to follow. “It’s just up this way, hopefully, there won’t be too big of a crowd.” His guard is down now, it’s just you and Hobie Brown, not Spider-Punk and Black Cat, just two “civs” kickin it.

“If you’re down to spar I can show you more than a little punch Bee.” You send a wink at Hobie, hoping the new nickname didn’t make him uncomfortable. “And hey! I thought you were a celebrity, don’t get special treatment even in the underground huh?”

Hobie smirks at that, “Hah. You’re funny.” He peers down at you, despite your above-average stature. “So you wanna spar then? Because now I’m very tempted to see what you can do.” He’s being cheeky, you can hear it in his tone.

Oh, this man was dangerous, and you can’t help the sly smile that makes its way to your face. “Oh, I’d love to show you everything I can do.” You’re sultry now, biting your lip as you gaze up at him.

“Damn, you’re a cocky little cat huh?” He shakes his head laughing, but can’t hide the big smirk forming on his face.

“Don’t think I won’t accept your challenge, because I will…”

“Oh? Is that so? What’s the punk challenging me to do exactly?” You step closer, still looking up at the man, with a smug grin on your face.

“Oh, I think you know…” He smirks at you and steps closer. “Or should I remind you?”

You grab him by his guitar strap, pulling him down until your lips almost touch. “It must’ve slipped my mind, Bert.” You emphasize his name teasingly.

Despite the way your eyelids flutter shut, and how your lips seem to draw each other in, he chuckles and gives you a quick kiss on the lips, still very clearly smug.

“I’m glad I could remind you.”

[sgtjamesrogers]

“Sign here… and there you are, cheers!” 

The receptionist pushed a glasses case towards him across the desk, stowing his receipt and paperwork away in return. Roy looked at the smart-looking leather case with some amount of trepidation, as if it might grow teeth and bite him. 

He’s avoided this for as long as possible; he’s hated his eyesight going on him. It had been one of the first signs of his body giving up on him, and any of the potential solutions had felt too irritating to follow through on. Having to poke his finger into his eyes with contacts, LASIK would have made his night vision even worse, and glasses were a particularly irritating solution while he was an active athlete. 

Of course, being retired as well as seeing how much blurrier road signs continued to get, meant that it would be irresponsible to keep avoiding the issue. Glasses would simply have to do. Roy stowed the case in his jacket pocket with a nod to the receptionist, he wasn’t going to wear them out of the optometrist’s office. He still had a little pride left, after all. 

Roy found Nelson Road a busy hive of activity, and the full-tilt chaos of the season left the car park full to bursting. He felt his dread grow as he parked, but took his new frames out of the case and put them on anyway. No way out but through, after all. He just didn’t want to hear everyone being so kind about them. 

Well. Tartt would probably be less than kind given his proclivity for ‘grandad’ jokes and jabs about his age. The idea that at least one person wouldn’t be painfully positive was almost a relief. 

The first person he encountered was Isaac, who gave him a considering nod as they passed each other on the stairs. 

“Cool frames bruv,” he said over his shoulder, taking the steps two at a time. “They pull the whole look together. S’cool that you’re doing more fashion!” 

Kill me, Roy thought as he descended toward the dressing rooms. It was like a repeat of Phoebe’s gift shirt, with multiple people in the corridor stopping to stare and pretending they hadn’t. Preferably before I get to my desk. 

“Oh!” Nate blurted out as Roy entered the coaching offices. His forehead scrunched with dismay as Roy lifted his eyes to him, like the noise had been an unstoppable reflex at the sight of Roy Kent in glasses. It took everything in him not to turn on his heel and walk out again.

“What?” Roy growled, stalking over to his chair and sitting heavily. 

“They look nice,” Nate said helplessly, gesturing to his face with one hand. “The frame shape suits your face, is that…not what you want to hear?” Roy was staring at his desk, but in his peripheral, he could see Nate cast desperate confused looks at Beard, currently kicked back in his chair reading Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon. 

“You look the same as you always do,” Beard said without looking up. “There. Happy?” 

“Yes,” Roy grumped, and then frowned at the book’s cover. “Can I borrow that after you’re finished?” 

“Ay coaches,” came the voice in the doorway, the low voice and ‘soft a’ pronunciation signaling the arrival of Jamie Tartt. “Colin’s not going to ask so I came instead, everyone’s talking about–” His voice halted like someone had pointed a remote at him and clicked ‘off’. Roy looked up from his desk. 

“Talking about what?” He asked, unable not to sneer through the words. “Come on, let’s fucking hear it. You’ve had to be saving up all sorts of material for a day like today. This must be early Christmas to you.” Then he really looked at Jamie. “Have you already been at cardio?” 

“Mm,” Jamie said, nodding slowly as he stared at Roy. He did look like he’d been on a treadmill, the apples of his cheeks a pinky-red that was creeping towards his ears. “What? Have I been at what?” 

“Cardio,” Roy repeated, voice raising in growing disbelief. He should never have put the glasses on, the second he did the whole world went off like milk curdling in his fridge. Jamie shook his head just as slowly in response. He looked almost dazed. 

“Mm, not cardio. Not since my usual when I got up this morning,” he said, sounding out each word like a step where he couldn’t quite find his footing. He screwed up his mouth afterward, lips working like there were other words he might say that refused to be located. Colin was behind his right shoulder just outside of the office, squinting hard at the back of Jamie’s head. 

Nate reached and felt Jamie’s forehead with the back of his fingertips, his earlier bemused nerves now burnt away with concern. “Are you coming down ill?” 

Jamie jumped like he’d been electrocuted, eyes widening first at Roy, and then at Nate. 

“Ill? No, nah, I’m grand,” he said, a little too loudly. “Picture of health.” He stepped backward out of the office, bumping into Colin and continuing to backpedal. “I think I left my— phone! I left my phone, in the…in the toilets!” He vacated the dressing room so quickly, he might have left a Jamie-shaped cloud of dust hanging in the air, like a Looney Tune. 

Roy shoved his glasses up his forehead, scrubbing with annoyance at his eyes with the backs of his knuckles. The glasses were clearly cursed, there were no two ways about it.

[fandomnerd9602]

Wolf Spider (Finale)

Sam Carpenter x Spider-Man!Reader

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Venom wasn’t supposed to have bonded with Detective Bailey. Sam wasn’t supposed to arrive in the middle of your battle at the clock tower. And you weren’t supposed to have your entire base of operations be going up in flames like this. But life, like it does to so many spider-folk, loves to throw you a series of curveballs.

Ghost-Venom, your little name for the abomination currently in front of you and Sam, roars before forming a giant curve blade with one of its arms.

“I’m gonna spill both of your innards all over New York,” Bailey speaks through the symbiote.

“I believe him. ” you shout as you grab Sam and jump out the nearest window. The monster’s arm blade narrowly misses you as you do so.

“Run run run little spiders” the creature growls as it too takes to the open air, swinging after you.

“Bailey’s got your powers now?!” Sam screams.

“The symbiotic copies abilities” you explain as you swing through the city. “We have to lure him somewhere”

“What stop him?”

“Sound or fire”

“What about-?” Samtries to ask as you’re suddenly smacked in the back by the creature, knocking you right into the heart of Times Square. You shield your girlfriend as you smack into the cold hard pavement. Sam rolls out of your arms and over a couple feet. She tries to pull herself to her feet.

“What is it with my battles and always ending up here?” you wince from the impact.

Ghost-Venom lands with a mighty crash on the street in front of you, “You took my family from me. I’m simply returning the favor”

He grabs a taxi cab and flings it at you. Thinking quick, you spin a web, entrapping the vehicle. It does nothing to stop Ghost-Venom from crashing straight through it and backhanding you right into the Times Square jumbotron. Bolts of electricity surge through your body, electrocuting you. Screams of pain erupt from your very core. And then all of a sudden it stops. The electricity begins coursing somewhere else.

You turn to see Chad, clad in a makeshift black track suit and one of your abandoned masks. He’s sticking to the side of the jumbotron and absorbing all the electricity.

“Surprised? So am I” he smirks from under the mask. You hand him one of your web shooters. He clasps it onto his wrists, “Crash course?”

“Point and shoot with your middle and ring fingers…”

“Let’s protect our girls!” The two of you swing down and kick Ghost-Venom square in the chest. Tara speeds in on a motorcycle and unloads a shotgun right into the creature.

“Tara?” Sam asks in amazement as her younger sister pulls her to her feet. Tara hands her a gun as the two take to firing off shots.

You and Chad work in tandem to weaken the creature.

“How are we gonna stop him? There’s no fire around here?!” Chad asks as Ghost-Venom flings him across the area.

The sound of a revving guitar solo catches your ear. You can’t help but smirk, “but we got sound.”

BOOM! The sound of a rocking guitar explodes in a shockwave, knocking Ghost-Venom flat on his chest as Hobie rocks out from behind.

“Sorry I’m late, bruv” Hobie smiles as he raises his amp’s volume to eleven. Ghost Venom shrieks in pain as does Bailey.

An idea forms in your brain, “Chad! Use your electricity to turn all of Times Square-”

“Into a giant amp” Chad smiles as he swings off and combines his new ‘venom bite’ as he later calls it, with all of the speakers and screens around Times Square.

Seeing a couple construction pipes, you work to slam several of them into the ground around Ghost-Venom, locking the monster in place. Sam and Tara fire off several shotgun blasts keeping the creature in its cage.

“Hobie!” you shout, “turn it up!”

Hobie smiles as he plays the loudest guitar solo he’s ever played. All of Times Square short circuits, sparks fly, Venom cowers and slowly rips away from Bailey. The detective screams in pain from the forcible extraction.

Chad swings in, fully charged and zaps the cage with an untold amount of electricity. The combination of sound and light ignites the symbiote and Detective Bailey’s legs.

You web a line and pull Bailey out of the cage. Venom screams and shrieks as every last shred of the creature is finally burned away.

Bailey looks up to see you, Sam, Tara, Chad, and Hobie staring down at him

“You’re in some real deep trap, mate” Hobie chuckles as he webs up Bailey.

“Trap?” Chad asks

“It’s a slang for-never mind” you wave it off.

It’s been a couple months since then.

Bailey was arrested, Quinn testified against him and acted as a key witness.

Anika was released from the hospital and is now enjoying every day with Mindy.

Gale was also released from the ICU and is currently writing from eyewitness accounts about the battle in Times Square. She’s got quite the bestseller on her hands.

Chad and Tara have been taking it slow. Mostly because Chads been busy training with you as the Electric Spider. The names still a work in progress.

And now that brings you to your relationship with Sam. The two of you have found a nice little studio apartment which doubles as the new Web. You still miss your old one but hey now you can spend as much time as you want with your girl.

Sam frets at the kitchen counter, pacing back and forth nervously.

“What’s wrong?” you ask with a little smirk

“My über won’t be here on time to take me to work”

“I can take you”

The offer was really tempting for Sam, “really?” She bites her lip mischievously.

“I have a patrol that way anyway” you shrug nonchalantly.

You open up the window overlooking New York and gesture to it.

Next thing Sam knew, you and her were swinging through the open air. Sam was shouting with the delight all the way to her new job.

Sam Carpenter was the woman you’d live for, die for, and overall, to be this universe’s Spider-Man was truly something…amazing.

The End

Tags: @deafeningsharkslimeempath @ma1egamer @jacelion @jacksonandjacksonville @ab1nsur @konstantin609 @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist

[jossilyn-embereth]

Smoke and Zest || Tangerine X Female OC

Warnings: Violence, Language, Slight Gore?

Description: Tangerine and Lemon are hired on to a job, but they arrive to find that their package is being stolen.

“Right. We’re on it, not to worry.”

Tangerine hangs up the phone and slides it back into his suit pocket, turning to face his brother with a smug smile, “Job’s ours. Pick up’s in an hour. We’d best be off.”

Lemon frowns and turns off the TV, rising to his feet. He checks takes his gun from the side table and slides it into place before following Tangerine out the door.

“Oi, Tan, whats the pick up? I’m not in the mood for a hostage today.”

“Not a live one. Got ourselves an old fashioned package today.”

“Sounds a bit too easy, yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t bother with that yet. If a problem comes our way we’ll deal with it like we always do, right?”

“Right.”

The brothers step into the car they had parked not far from their hotel, and speed off in the direction of the pick up. Tangerine turns on the radio and leans back to listen, but Lemon already had a hand on the dial.

Lemon fiddles with the stations the entire ride, only coming to rest on the original channel as they pull into the drive. With a sigh of frustration, Tangerine turns off the radio and parks them a ways off from the building.

“The hell is this place?” Lemon asks as the exit the car.

“Old factory turned lab.”

“Lab? We picking up drugs?”

“Doubt it. They’ve got their own men for that, don’t they.”

The pair approach the doors, each becoming more aware of the silence hanging over the area. A silence that felt more foreboding than peaceful.

“This don’t feel right Bruv.”

“Come on Lemon, don’t be—“

“Naw, you listening? Ain’t a sound coming out of that place. You’re telling me theres a lab in there, but I see no guards, no white coats, no men with those stupid little ear pieces; its empty. Dead. This don’t feel right man.”

Tangerine lets out a long, irritated sigh; “Listen man, we go in, grab the fucking box and get out. All im feeling is fucking jet lag from flying round the world this past week. Now, stop talking about your feelings so we can do this. We’ve got a very angry Russian waiting for this package, right, and a very angry American waiting for us in Seattle when were through here. Lets go!”

Lemon follows his hot-headed brother into the building, which was just a quiet inside as it was out. But it wasn’t empty. Bodies line the halls, leading to the interior room, where the main floor of the factory had been converted to hold dozens of craft tables and house hundreds of boxes. Bodies litter this room as well. The floor glistens with blood. Only one living souls remains.

The figure in question holds a phone up to they’re ear, muttering as they pace the room. Dressed in baggy pants, with a hoodie to match.

Tangerine takes out his gun and nods to Lemon. Together they step into the room with their guns raised; “Hello mate. No need for trouble, just drop the case and be on your way and we can pretend none of this happened.”

Tan watches in surprise as the figure turns, revealing the face of a woman. She looks them over with a frown; “Who the hell are you?”

“Could ask you the same. We were sent by your boss to pick up the package. We weren’t told there would be a blood bath prior to our arriving. Whats going on here?”

She shrugs and drops the phone from her ear, her American accent making Tangerine tilt his head in curiosity; “The dumb asses were supposed to be guarding this warehouse, but apparently were the weakest mother-fuckers they could’ve picked for the job.”

“Is the package still here? Can the pick up still be made.”

She shakes her head; “Long gone. Sorry boys.”

Tan nods and begins to lower his weapon, but suddenly, Lemon has a hand on his arm, his gaze locked on something near the woman. Tangerine follows his gaze to a small black case.

Too small to hold drugs, or papers, or any sort of weapon. More square than rectangular, just like the boss had described. The package was there, just in front this woman who had claimed it was long gone.

“Right,” Tangerine says slowly, “And what were you doing when all these assholes got murdered?”

She had taken notice of their notice, and reached out to grip the boxes handle. She pulls it towards her with a smirk; “Raining fire.”

She tosses out a grenade from her pocket. Tangerine pulls Lemon by the sleeve into the hall and presses his hands over his ears, but the blast never comes.

After a minute, he and Lemon step back inside and approaches the explosive. Once closer, Lemon takes note of the strange sheen of its surface. He reaches down to pick it up, Tangerine letting out a sound to protest, but as soon as his hand wraps around it he begins to laugh.

He holds it out to Tangerine; “Its fucking plastic.”

Tangerine grabs the toy and chucks it away, letting out a growl of frustration; “I’ll call the client. Let ‘em know what happened. We were hired for a pick up, not a chase. It’s out of our hands now.”

He takes out his phone, the woman’s face burned in his mind. He swears to himself that if he ever finds her, hell pay her back for the shit she pulled today.

[justabox17]

Silk Song

Miguel O'hara x Teen Reader

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

"Ey, bruv"

Miguel turns to Hobie, questioning the character next to him.

"Who are they?"

Hobie nudges the character, they whip around and look up at the man.

"Hmm?"

Hobie points to Miguel and she nods, turning to the man with a slight bow.

"Names Katlyn but you call me Kat, Hobie here thought id be useful to you guys since I already can dimension hop"

Miguel stands there, baffuled that Hobie now just introduces this character.

"Hobie, whyd you just bring her here"

"She's 15 im not letting her out on her own and plus shes deaf"

Miguel is just confused.

"So whos watching her?"

"Gwen, my drummer"

Miguel tries to compact this down, he walks over to the two.

"So you bring a fifteen year old arachid human who figured out dimension travel because you have someone else to watch her"

"That I trust"

Hobie adds with a smile, Kat turns to Miguel and reachs her hand toward his arm. Hobie nudges her and she dives back.

"She's also strong, very strong"

Miguel sighs and turns toward the character a few feet away.

"Can she read lips?"

"Yes i can, how much cant you lift?"

Hobie signals for her to cut it out and she nods, defeted she retreats behind the two.

"She's...going threw something"

Miguel judt nods and walks off, Hobie following with Kat behind him. The three tour around, reaching the canon, training room, etc.

"Miguel?"

He turns to Kat and nods his head.

"Nevermind"

He turns and away, Hobie sighing at the shy outstreach to Miguel. Pulling away the two break off from Kat who is observing Spider People.

"Listen Kat's shy and quite itimidated by you but by that outstreach of hope you need to soften up a bit, she already sees you as a competitor and someone to look up to, kay bruv?"

Miguel nods and the two merge with Kat who somehos is now holding a bagel.

"How'd you get that?"

Kat turns to the Hobie, paint covering her mask, the suit mimicing the pattern of paint like a chameleon.

"Some guys swong by and got paint all over me then another older spider gave me this bagel and swong after the group"

She explained, Hobie and Miguel just confused at the girl.

"Proud of you"

"Huh?"

Kat jumps up, landing and hugging the brit.

"She usally beats the hell out of people"

He says pattinf the girls back, she pulls away and fizzles like a shooken up soda.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

"So how'd you find dimension travel?"

Miguel asks as the two sit down. Kat pulling out a slim white necklace around her neck, Miguel holding back shock.

"Well after i finishe collage I created a partical exelerator in my garage-"

"Tou created a partical exelerator in your garage, with what?"

Kat leaned it, shock coursing threw her body.

"Copper, anyways I was able to reiderate the massive machine over and over again, figuring out quantum machanics and eventually i started to harvist the energy i was making, then it starts to spit bits of goo out which i collected"

She paused, another bagel dropping from the sky, she peeled off her mask, long blonde hair and soft pale skin exploding from the mask as she munched on the wheat.

"Well i was bit by a spider which dunked itself into the partical liquid, i compacted the machine with my new found powers, one day i got too close and was zapped into earth dimension 441. I was able to make a exelerator as small as a tennis ball then i zapped myself back home after forty three years but when i returned I was fourteen"

Miguel just sat and listened at the girls story, she spent fourty three years in another dimension then found herself home. She's smart, quick too.

"After i got home i started to send things threw the liquid, from one vat to another, like a portal! I started to throw bits of the liquid back into the exelerator which wasnt smart i uhh...killed myself doing it"

Miguel looked at her confused.

"How are you here then?"

"Thats the thing, i was stuck inbetween quantum plates, when the exelerator and liquid combined it exploded killing fourty three million people, wiping secter D and part of E off of the grid."

She paused, finishing the bagel and wiping a tear from her eye.

"So after i had died for my sixtenth time i found out the way back home, a splotch of this liquid was floating in beta 17 and I spent four lifetimes getting it and leaving, when i got home i was fourteen and a half, passing my half birthday that day but i was greeted with corpeses and scorched earth"

Miguel nods in sympathy, the lose of her family and friends mustve taken an emense toll on her.

"I uhh guess that was my canon event as you said, after that I built my particle exelerator this being whats left of me and my family"

She gestured to the small necklace looped in her hands.

"After fifty or so years i ended up in Hobie's dimension, apparently i waswanted and my home dimension found a way to jump dimensions but not effetionaly. Me and Hobie entered my home dimension and he was nearly killed. After collasping the government we escape, Hobie pointed out to me that time there was slower than anywhere else, fourteen days passed when i left and came back."

Miguel speaks up.

"So this dimension could have a agmented time dialation compared to the other dimensions?"

"Yes, the slowest ive found was 779, every day there was fourteen years in Hobies world"

Kat jumped up and caught another bagel.

"The fastest was 87768 which every decade was about ten minuets in Hobie's dimension"

"So do you live with Hobie?"

Kat nodded and tore another bit from the bagel.

"Wouldnt that be a little akward?"

"As in?"

Miguel sighed.

"Nevermind, whats the time dialation here?"

"Oh only a few fractions of a second about 0.00000093 second off from Hobie's place"

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

[little-bug-el-faouly]

Layla's pov: Asylum Escape #2

► Part one: Asylum Escape

‘Do you even recognize me?’

He did. Mostly. Took a moment of them staring like she might just disappear again before the words came pouring out. All slurred without much of a filter.

She let him ramble until she got something she understood. There were quiet moments between where he spaced out. Layla waited patiently. Understandably, that took some time. He wasn’t in a good state. Wasn't like she had anywhere else to be, he had all of her attention.

“Echar una mano-“

“Should say it in French mate she knows that one.”

“Dejar plantado-���

“Sorry Layla.”

“Mi polola~”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Less cursing, more French guys. C'mon! Bonjour Layla! T’es belle!”

“Cut it out. We need to-”

“Sorry bruv I’m just tryna say ‘ello.”

"Será mejor que no le hables así.”

“And you need to shut the fuck up too.”

“Bit of a mess up here innit? Sorry.”

“No. Layla you need to go. It’s not uh-”

“Si amor, no es seguro aquí.”

“Not a vacation is what it is. It’s bloody awful.”

“Safe. It’s not safe. Trap.”

“Si, I said that.”

“No, you didn’t, you wibbled on in Spanish.”

“Spanish? Ah. My mistake. Hard to think right now.”

“They’re not going to let me leave. Needed you to get me to talk.”

“He’s right. You must leave, mi vida.”

“I will end you.”

The laugh that came out of him definitely wasn’t Marc. She was certain his hand would have waved a grander gesture or punched himself if it hadn’t been restrained. Layla watched him struggling and tried to not let her nose crinkle up. It hurt to see him like this. He shouldn’t be here. Couldn’t hold himself in the front for long. Maybe it was the sedatives they had him on? Or just this place? She didn’t know. She’d never seen them this bad before.

“Hey- hey, hey, hey. All of you. Shut up a sec. Look at me.”

They did. He did. Head strained to lift up a fraction more so he could try and hold her stare. Layla softened her eyes, wishing she could reach out and hold his hand. She was going to do one better.

“I’m not leaving here without you. You got that? I need you all to get on the same page. If you’re right, we got one shot at this. Can you hold yourself up? Why haven't you used your suit yet?”

"Fine, but I don’t like this."

“I mean I’ll try. Rooms a bit spinny."

"Old bird? In the mood he's in? Hah."

"That stupid pigeon-”

“It's complicated.”

“What you got planned for us chica?”

“I swear. Once I take off these restraints, if you punch yourself, we’re going to have a problem. Focus.” “You tell ‘em, love.”

“I am focused.”

“Ahh he’s behaving now wife is here.”

"Shut your mouth."

Layla worked on the restraints behind his back. Helping him up to his feet. Keeping an arm around him while he gathered his bearings. Layla guided him towards the door, letting him lean his weight onto her as they moved.

Pushing him up against the wall just out of view. Close enough to be sharing each other's air, he leaned in but she didn't rise to it. Instead, she raised her hand to gesture for him to wait for the signal. He leaned back with a more stern expression, and then his eyebrows shot up and a more nervous one broke through. She thumped her fist against the door until one of the escorts opened it. Show time.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

💗 i imagine them meeting high functioning autistic reader, and not even realizing till reader is like

“Btw I have autism.” And theres their individual reactions.

Of course Hobie would be surprised, looking over with wide eyes at the casual admission. He wouldn’t care, but he’d probably be like, cuz ik he’s from the 70s.

“Bruv’, the fuck is a aw’tizzim.” And you’ll explain and he’s like “aw shit, a’ight. Sounds neat.”

And eventually as they get closer he’ll notice their little habits, stimming, and just note them to himself. Personally he finds you kinda neat, and listen to your hyperfixations.. and slowly he’ll try to make fucking anarchy and shit your hyperfix. In result, what he gets is you talking about the laws today and shit and he’s over here like “holy FUCK.” When you talk about the history, laws, politics, covid whatever. He just listens.. now considering things, bros still an anarchist, but he also notes other things. Gives him a hella new look on the world.

Miguel would be shocked, definitely. Shocked he didn’t catch it sooner, which annoys him. He will often notice your stimming, taking notes of what disgusts you and shit., what surprised him the most though, is your outbursts. Your sensory issues, overloads stimulating you too much till you’re on an angry spree or just crying. He would try to make sure your suit is adjusted perfectly to you, stripped of any material you find uncomfortable. He would remember everything about you si when you ask what you like he can immediately answer you spot on. He’ll listen to your rambles, and when you get angry and start to yell he’ll just stand there, because not many or ANY yell at him. He’s standing there in shock as you shout at him, seethe at his actions.. and break down in the middle of your anger and cry into his chest, he is trying to figure out if this is normal or not.

He would spend ENDLESS nights studying autism, just studying stuff more and more to help you and help himself understand. In the beginning you were so timid, and now you’re walking around with yiur resting bitch face, or happily ranting and listening to music and having your noise canceling headphones on. He watches intensely, gazing over your figure. At some point he finds out the extent of your mental, and he’s lowkey worried. Finding notes rants or rants you sent to friends about your lowkey violent issues.. he understands almost, and tries to comfort you. Then he finds out you have just issues with your entire identity, you’re also hypersexual. He will deal with how dirty you are sometimes, the lewd shit he finds in your history. He stares at it all in astonishment, it makes him BLUSH. He will be fanning his face with stapled papers and gulping. Of course he’ll incorporate some things in sex with you, and maybe, maybe just maybe he’ll let you do things to him. Like the biting you’ll do to his shoulder, he’ll let you sink your teeth into his neck. He’s willing to try pegging, maybe. Let you slap and watch his ass jiggle while hes dying of embarrassment, collar and leash him up.. gag him and call him naughty nicknames. He’s obsessed at this point, lowkey a lil nervous whenever you have sex but you’ll notice and assure him it’s all okay, you won’t do anything he won’t want to do.

I kinda realized by the end i based the reader off me, my bad.

ugh I loved it all!!! the miguel part about him studying and learning to help and the part about him just taking the heat from the meltdown is just mwah😩

😭😭 don’t worry about it bby!!

[spookyspecterino]

Daft Pricks Get What They Deserve

Tangerine x GN! (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Part 1

SFW; Fluff, some violence, Tangerine being really mean to others but really soft to you, proposal, language.

Justin obviously didn't get the hint you were off-limits. Tangerine really has to get the message through.

A/N: Wanted to follow up my other work with this. Wanted those soft feelings, that good fluff. Also felt like writing a fic where Tangerine beats the shit out of someone who bothers you. Self-indulgence is a form of self-care everybody. <3

----------

The evening rush of traffic would normally have made Tangerine crave a cigarette. Cars honking and people carrying on with raised voices while being stuck in bumper-to-bumper lines—it was dreadful to be stuck in. Except, he had the one thing that calmed him; soothed him more than any cigarette ever could.

You.

At the moment, in the middle of traffic, you weren’t mad or impatient—you were talking about how much you loved running the little shop that had cost him a considerable amount. Money well spent in Tangerine’s opinion. The look on your face when he sees you talk about it, the absolute light that shines behind your eyes, is enough to justify it.

As the traffic starts to thin out, he continues on toward the restaurant. You’re currently unaware that there’s a special occasion to celebrate; your boyfriend is just taking you to a lovely place for an evening date. To Tangerine, he’s celebrating a personal milestone.

“Oi, you sure you know what you’re doing Lemon?”

“Yeah, bruv. My taste is impeccable.”

“Ok, sure, but this is gonna be the thing they wear for the rest of—listen, it’s just very, very impor—”

“Tangerine, relax. You asked me to help pick out a ring and that’s what I’m doing mate. They’ll love it, don’t worry.”

The anxiety leading up to picking out an engagement ring had stalled him many times over. Finally, he had broken and asked his brother for help. Since Tangerine got it yesterday, he’s been carrying the little ring with him constantly. It serves as a reminder of his plan for the future; a future with you by his side.

Except, his nerves really do get the better of him when he thinks about what comes next. After buying the ring, Tangerine had almost broken down in the car, worrying about whether you would say yes; worrying over where the wedding would be or how you might react seeing that he and Lemon didn’t really have any family to attend the ceremony.

“What’re they gonna say when it’s just you and Momo in the church on our family’s side? They’re gonna think I’m an absolute nutter.”

 Lemon—bless his soul; what would he ever do without him, came in to save his ass a second time with much needed advice.

“One step at a time. That’s all. You’ve got the ring; next step, simply think on where you want to propose. You don’t have to do it right away. Just think, then the step after that can be to make a plan.” He had clapped his brother good-naturedly on the shoulder after Tangerine sniffled and thought that over, calming down. “And, believe me, if they didn’t run when you told them you were a contract killer—they won’t be bothered by anything else.”

The restaurant Tangerine had placed a reservation at wasn’t the nicest place in the city, but it was one of the top three. Wearing one of his best suits, you were dressed to the nines to match. Walking in with his hand on the small of your back, your shoulder brushing his chest, was enough to make him glow with pride.

Being one of the nicer evenings this season, it made sitting outside in the garden area wonderful. Private and serene, something Tangerine was always willing to pay more for in order to have. He could tell you enjoyed it too as he pulled out your chair for you to sit. As he took his place across the table from you he couldn’t help himself from matching your beaming smile.

You sat looking at him with stars in your eyes. It was enough to crack his heart wide open. “This is really, really wonderful Tangerine, thank you.”

God, he was so in love with you. “You’re welcome, darling.”

Taking a slow look over his suit while smoothing out your own clothes, you ask, “So, what’s the special occasion?”, while leaning forward and looking at him playfully.

Tangerine’s stomach clenches, one sentence from you is enough to have him tripping and falling over himself. Are you onto him? How would you even…Christ, why bother wondering—you were always 10 times smarter than him.

Trying to keep his nerves from getting too overwhelming, he chuckles and takes your hand in his. “I don’t need a special occasion in order to take you somewhere nice.”

Your blushing smile is enough to tell him he did well in playing that off. He breathed a silent sigh of relief; however, his nerves were not as easily banished. They dwelled and simmered in the back of his mind, threatening to sour his mood.

He was relieved when the waiter appeared, giving him something else to focus on. After ordering food and a bottle of wine for the evening, Tangerine got up to use the restroom. He was adamant to get rid of these nerves; deciding, reluctantly, to use some breathing exercises Lemon showed him from a YouTube video that Ladybug had in-turn showed Lemon. He’d thought the whole thing was rather silly, but he was willing to give it a shot for you.

As he made his way through the tables and inside, he caught sight of a familiar looking muppet sitting at the bar and staring in the direction Tangerine had just come from. He slowed to take a better look.

Yeah. It was that fucking dick head you used to work with. He hadn’t noticed Tangerine yet, by the looks of it.

Tangerine followed Justin’s line of sight. No surprise, he was zeroed in on you from across the restaurant like a fucking hawk. Tangerine’s brain instantly switched modes from ‘pleasant, on a date, boyfriend’ to ‘contract killer looking to take out a target’.

Just as he was deciding on the best course of action, Justin got up from his place at the bar and started making his way over to you. The audacity of this fucking bloke.

Tangerine skirted around a table, intercepting him, and literally swinging him around to the opposite direction of the exit. His voice was pleasant, albeit laced with a threatening undertone. “Well, hello! I haven’t seen you for a few weeks. Let’s catch up outside, shall we?”

It takes Justin a moment, but then remembers that accent. He’s too late to struggle or make any attempt at calling for help, because by the time he realizes what’s going on Tangerine has a death grip on the scruff of his neck and is steering him down an alleyway.

Out of sight from the street and sidewalk, Tangerine shoves him up against a wall. “You think you’re clever don’t you? Trying to sneak in and talk to my partner—tell me, do you have a lick of common sense?”

Justin was seemingly a little more prepared for Tangerine this round, versus when he first met him. “Hey, man, listen—”

Tangerine smacked him across the face; not hard, but enough to stun him. “Shut it, I was asking a rhetorical question.” He moved in closer, putting his hands on his hips. “I saw you staring, and I have to say that really gets on my last fucking nerve. You remember the last time we met, yeah? What’d I tell you?”

Justin made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Fuck you, I wasn’t doing anyth—”

Tangerine didn’t let him finish as he drove a fist right into Justin’s stomach. He keeled over with a groan. Tangerine shook his head, astounded. “You are a real piece of work, you know that? How many times do I have to tell you they’re off limits, no matter what?”

“I—I just wanted to talk—”

Taking a hold of his shoulders, Tangerine straightened him up and slammed him into the wall. “What part of no means no do you not get through your thick fucking skull? Talking isn’t allowed, approaching them isn’t allowed.” He points a thick finger in Justin’s face. “In fact, if you even try to look at them again, I’ll fill your empty head with bullets.”

There’s an ugly sneer. Justin thinks he’s bluffing. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. You know why? Because I kill people for a fucking living, mate. I’d kill you in the worst way possible, pop you in a shredder, and chum the waters with ya.”

Justin still doesn’t seem to be buying it. “You’re a such a bastard. It should be me with—”  

Tangerine reels back a fist and cracks him across the jaw. He holds back just enough not to knock Justin clean out. “Don’t say their name! If I ever hear their name out of you again, I’ll fold you into a pretzel and send you off to Siberia in a bloody box!”

The hit has Justin reeling, as if he can’t believe he’s been punched. He holds his face with wide eyes.

Tangerine takes out a cigarette and lights it. The much-needed feeling of nicotine rushes into his system as he takes a slow inhale. Flipping the lighter closed, he stares down the man across from him and tries not to think about how long he’s left you sitting at the table by yourself.

Justin recovers a little, enough that a twisted grin creeps across his face as if he could read Tangerine’s mind. “Do they know? Do they know what you do for a living?”

Tangerine hits him again, this time not holding back. The thick gold rings on his fingers are covered in blood. Taking out his gun, he rams it under Justin’s jaw which is starting to color black and blue under the blood, there’s a pathetic squeak in response.

Tangerine blows smoke into his face. “Yeah, they do. So, if you think you’ve got something over me, you’re shit out of luck mate.”

Tangerine grins, mustache curling up, the memory of how turned on you had been when he told you flashed through his mind. The sex had been fantastic. Jabbing the gun in a little further, “And you know what else? They fucking love it.” He looked Justin over with a mocking curiosity. “What do you do for a living? Not work at the little shop anymore, since you got sacked—what an unfortunate thing that was.”

Justin’s shaking all over now, trembling from head to foot. The reveal that Tangerine had a gun was a slamming wake up call. When he doesn’t respond Tangerine laughs. “Well, I sincerely hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He moves the gun away and takes a step back, Justin practically slumps over. “Word of advice, get out of this fucking city. If I see you again this gun is going up your fucking arse.”

The man doesn’t move, just stays bent over, heaving breath in and out of his lungs. Tangerine clicks his tongue. “Go on then, run along.”

As if an invisible hand had pushed him, Justin stumbles forward and scrambles away down the alley. Tangerine puts his gun away and smooths out his suit. Thank god he kept a handkerchief in his pocket, cleaning blood off his hands in a fancy restaurant was not something he wanted to do. Throwing his cigarette away, he exited the alley and made his way back inside.

You were fiddling with the silverware, looking slightly bored as he sat back down. “I am so sorry, love.”

Looking up at him, you had on the faintest of frowns. “You smell like smoke, what’s wrong Tangerine?”

He cursed himself for the error, what had he been thinking—of course you would notice. Since you’d been dating, Tangerine had agreed to cut down on smoking when you had brought it up, admitting that it wasn’t healthy. Now, he only smoked when he felt extreme anxiety; and while you knew this, you were ok with it in those circumstances.

Tangerine felt so helpless in this moment. “Oh..I..uhm.”

He didn’t want to lie to you, the thought made him sick to his stomach. And you were staring at him with that worried look in your eyes now, the look that makes him want to scoop you up in his arms and kiss you until you’re laughing and any worry you might have is long forgotten.

Taking his silence and reluctance as something must be really bothering him, your brows furrow a little more and you lean in, reaching for his hand. “Baby?”

Tangerine decides to admit to something that has been causing him to smoke in the past week or so.

He pulls out the ring.

Holding it in his fingers delicately, as if his whole world were right there in his hands, he swallows a thick lump in his throat. “I was going to wait, Lemon told me to take things in small steps—”

Jesus, he had never seen your eyes this wide before. Did he fuck up? After seeing your wide eyes and parted lips he’s rambling now. Just saying anything and everything that comes to his mind.

How he was so nervous to get the ring, Lemon had to help him, and how he loves you so, so fucking much. How he doesn’t want to disappoint you, or ever let you down. He understands if this is too much, he’s a no-good contract killer and you’re you. Wonderful, amazing, brilliant, you. Everything he’s always wanted.

The more you sit and stare the faster he talks and it’s all spilling out of him in a long stream of consciousness. He’s not sure he can take your silence any longer, he might just start smoking another cigarette right then and there—and wouldn’t that be classy?

But before he can, you’re standing and moving toward him. He looks up at you, wide-eyed, scared, completely unsure of what your next move is. He’s about to combust and then you’re bringing his head to your chest and hugging it to you tightly. Peppering the top of his head with kisses, threading your fingers through his hair, as you repeat with tears in your eyes, that yes, yes of course you’ll marry him.

He’s standing and hugging you to him as his hands come up to hold your head into his chest. Relief is flooding through him and he can’t help but feel just a little silly for being so worried, because you love him. You really do.

As he slips the ring on your finger and kisses you so sweetly that it has tears falling down your cheeks, you ignore the scrapes and cuts on his knuckles. You ignore the blood on his suit sleeve. You ignore the fact that Justin, who had been staring at you from the bar all night was now nowhere to be seen. You ignore these things, because you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

And you are, because Tangerine is yours.

🍊 Taglist: @whatiswrongwithpeople @marquisdefrenchfry @everythingisspokenfortbh @titaniusanglesmith @sjprongs @piechans @cherrygayness @queenofstarsanddarkness @idkwhattowritelol

If you'd like to be added let me know!

[k-wame]

Did you see that interview of Barry’s where he mentioned him and Jacob kissed??? I need them to hand over that scene immediately.

in gq? yes! me too bruv. thats why barry came back on the press tour clinging to jacob's suit at the première. the kiss had been his roman empire i'd imagine

yk which one i'd like to see? pamela's departure where she's supposed to have had an exchange wit ollie

[lastchancestardomm]

Evil-Type

Word Count - 1.4K

Warnings: None. Possible Swearing.

Status - Not Beta Read

A/N: Do people still care about Sword & Shield??? I still religiously play that shit. Whatever, this was written in like 2021 on my computer right after I beat Piers, so the events are loosely based on how that match-up went. Yes, every Gym Leader (except Melony– Scorbunny superiority) beat my ass. I still shake in my boots thinking about post-game Hop. Fun fact, the only Pokémon on my team I didn't mention was my Greedent "Alvina". Also, some anime-battle shenanigans may ensue, but this fanfiction why should you or I care.

The neon lights flooded the shut-up city, Spikemuth, in a bleeding glow. The lights beckoned challengers to the bowels of the town, where his music rang like a Siren's call.

His voice thundered above the cries of admiration from his fans. Sam could've given up right there, just to sit and listen to his bewitching song. But she had made it this far, it was too late to give up.

The high-pitched scream of the Toxtricity Amped Forme belting out it's own electric tune would be enough to take Sam off her feet as she ran through dingy little Spikemuth, fighting duo after duo of Team Yell grunts.

Soon, she found herself standing below the punk rocker as he stood on his neon throne. His song it a crescendo when he noticed the Gym Challenger, dwarfed by his audience.

"(sigh) So you're finally here?" he spoke to himself, although amplified by his mic. Team Yell took it as a signal to clear out, as their mighty Piers hopped down from the stage; his voluminous hair swaying.

"Well... ya see... I'm not really a great Gym Leader. Figured that's why nobody was comin' to challenge me..." he admitted to Sam, still somewhat talking to himself. He absentmindedly rocked the mic stand, awaiting some response from Sam.

"I have good ears, so I overheard 'bout the city bein' shut up, then when I was alone it was like my soul was weepin'," he said, his rock voice trailing each word with a rasp.

Sam stared at the rocker like a poor Deerling in the headlights. "Oh, I'm sorry," Sam said. Piers nearly smiled at her words, but quickly gained his composure.

Team Yell was far too hyped about the new Gym Challenger, as they rattled and shook the fence holding them back like a mob. Piers ruffled his own hair and he smirked at his own Team; only raising their energy.

"This is a simple Gym Stadium, we can't even Dynamax our Pokémon... but... I still hope you enjoy the battle," Piers began.

"I will..." Sam promised under her breath, too quiet for the Gym Leader to hear. She held her starter's Pokéball closely, and stepped back into her side of the battlefield.

"Heh... I'm the Gym Leader of Spikemuth, Piers, the Dark-type user! You want to challenge me even though you know you'll lose?! Well.. this song's for you, foolish trainer!" Piers' vocals picked up where he left off as the music kicked up once more.

"Are you ready for a moshpit with me and my party? Spikemuth, it's time to rock!" Piers barked into his mic. The Pokéball quaked in Sam's hands, her Pokémon eager to conquer another Gym.

"My 'mons are all riled up 'cuz of the music! Let's start this already!" Sam demanded, throwing out her dear Cinderace; Inferno. Piers chuckled at her enthusiasm, and followed suit by tossed up his Scrafty.

"Everyone cheer on my Pokémon! Oi Scrafty, intimidate the opponent! Go on bruv!" Piers' voice rang out into the night as the battle began.

Inferno attempted to use Electro Ball, but the Scrafty moved first and hit with a Fake Out. Inferno flinched, and gritted his teeth on the Charcoal item in his mouth.

Scrafty managed to move faster than Inferno the next turn, and used Sand Attack. The pocket sand scattered around Sam's side, as Inferno wiped his eyes of the pesky granules.

Inferno let out a cry of defiance and landed and OHKO with a direct Pyro Ball. Scrafty whimpered as he returned to his trainer.

"Aces! Heck yeah, Inferno! Show this Obstagoon-wannabe who's in charge!" Sam cheered. Inferno let out a cry of pride, and bounced in place to hype up his energy.

"Ha! Prepared to be messed up with my Malamar's Contrary ability!" Piers chuckled, doing a showy trick with his mic stand to show he's the one with talent in this place.

Team Yell roared in support of their leader, the music seemingly getting louder and louder.

Inferno cackled along with his trainer, as she called out for him to use U-turn. Inferno's feet blazed up with green fire and Bug-type energy– delivering a powerful, OHKO kick to the Malamar.

Piers flinched, reacting for his poor Pokémon. "My Malamar didn't even get to show off 'er moves! If ya think you're so tough, prepare to face the proud, high roar of my Obstagoon!"

Piers tossed out his imposing Obstagoon, as Sam fumbled around in her bag for her own. Inferno returned to Sam, as Punk Rock, her precious 'Obby, emerged and roared fear into the opposing Obstagoon.

"Ey, ey, ey! A copycat! Why she bringin' another 'Obby to face our man Piers?!" a Team Yell grunt shouted. Sam shook her head, offended.

The opposing Obstagoon used Throat Chop on Punk Rock, as she went for a Headbutt. The Obstagoon stumbled back, but regained footing when Punk Rock's next move was called.

Punk Rock lunged for Piers' Obstagoon, preparing to use Cross Chop and end the Obstagoon v. Obstagoon match-up. The opposing Obstagoon blocked it with Obstruct, lowering Punk Rock's Defense.

Sam wasn't deterred though. "You really think you can block my hits?! You have a storm comin' Piers!" Sam howled, Punk Rock harmonizing with her taunt.

She ordered Punk Rock to use Cross Chop once more, the attack hitting Piers' Obstagoon head-on; but it stood defiantly with it's health in red, its boosted Defense IVs helping it hold on.

The opposing Obstagoon laughed in Sam and Punk Rock's face, as Sam rummaged around in her bag for a basic Potion to bring Punk Rock back to full health from half; due to Piers' Obstagoon using Throat Chop from before.

Piers took this instance as an opportunity, and with the boost of the lowered Defense, his Obstagoon managed to faint Punk Rock with a Counter.

Sam called back Punk Rock, and had an idea. She stalled emptily for a few minutes before coming back with Yngwie, her powerful Low-Key Forme Toxtricity, who strummed his chest with excitement. "Yngwie, use Acid Spray!" Sam chimed.

And with that, Yngwie flung his head back and acid emerged from his fangs onto the opposing Obstagoon. The Blocking Pokémon went into temporary surprise as his Special Defense dropped.

Piers hummed, wondering what plan Sam had in mind. Though, as Team Yell shouted and yapped, he flashed his team a smirk and ordered Obstagoon to use Throat Chop.

Swiftly changing out, Piers' Obstagoon hit Elitra–Sam's always-ready Boltund–instead of Yngwie. Stalling a turn as Piers attacked the roused Elitra with a Shadow Claw, Sam used a Defense X on Yngwie.

Yngwie came back out and with a cry from Sam, he used Boomburst to faint the dastardly Obstagoon. Piers' eyes flinched with surprise as he kept on singing.

"Well, we're gonna stink after this, but who cares. Prepare to get hit with the Aftermath of my Skuntank!" Piers roared. Team Yell began to chant in support for Piers.

The Skuntank came out and Sam recoiled at the heinous odor the Pokémon carried. Yngwie was far from intimidated by the fellow Poison-type though, and was fully prepared to send a Sludge Wave back at the Skuntank and its trainer.

"Yngwie wait–!" Sam called out, choking on the stench of the Skuntank's fur. She wasn't used to such a nasty-smelling Poison-Pokémon.

The Skuntank moved quickly, using Snarl to lower Yngwie's precious Special Attack stat. Yngwie, almost immediately, clapped back with Overdrive– it not fainting the bulky Skuntank.

Sam swapped out Yngwie and came back with Nevermore, her trusty Corviknight. Piers ordered his Skuntank to Screech the newcoming Pokémon on the field.

"Nevermore! Use Brave Bird!" Sam called out. Nevermore cawed and flew up, comically banging her head on the roof overhang.

Despite that, as the reverbed bang rang out, Nevermore came down like a bullet onto the Skuntank. The Skuntank groaned as it flew and landed by its trainer's feet, fainted.

Piers himself groaned, and exasperatedly fell to his knees in defeat. "Me an' my team gave it our best... but I'm glad to battle. An' seems like me Pokémon feel the same way,"

Sam chuckled nervously at the display, and stepped towards Piers. She held out a hand, and he took it and lifted himself to his feet.

"Oh... and here's your Dark Badge," he said, handing over the pin for Sam to add to her collection. The seventh Gym was defeated!

[professionallydeadinside]

"I hit a kid."

"Makes sense."

“I hit a kid.”

“Makes sense.”

“Lemon. I mean like, with my car.”

“Oh shit.”

Lemon sat up from his lounging position on the couch, immediately pausing the Thomas the Tank Engine episode he was watching to try and discern if his brother was making a poorly executed joke of some kind. But no, the haunted look in Tangerine’s eyes said otherwise.

“How the fuck do you hit a kid?!”

“The little fucker just ran out, I tried to swerve.”

Lemon pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Where are they?”

“Hell if I know!” Tangerine took off his suit jacket and threw it on the couch.

“What do you mean ‘hell if I know’?”

“I fucking drove away! I’m not sticking around to get chewed out by some jackass parent who don’t give a fuck enough to watch their kid-“

The doorbell rang, followed by incessant knocking. The brothers went silent.

Lemon, ever vigilant, looked through the peephole.

“There aint nobody at the fucking door, bruv.”

“Well obviously there is!”

The knocking at the door was becoming unbearable. Tangerine stalked towards it and threw the lock open, pushing Lemon to the side as the door nearly slammed into the wall.

Standing there was a young girl. Which was the exact opposite of whatever Tangerine was expecting to open the door to.

She was wearing a dark colored sweater vest and a t-shirt cut blouse with puffy sleeves, a pink ribbon tied around her neck. Lemon felt unsettled at how much the girl reminded him of the Diesel from the train.

Each article of her clothing was covered in dirt and her face was visibly bruised. Sticks and other debris stuck out from her curly hair along with what seemed to be a metal frame of cat ears. Tangerine remembered seeing them fly off when his car had screeched to a stop.

“You dropped this.” Her accent was a confusing mix of things that Lemon couldn't pick out.

With bloodied knuckles covered in bandaids, the girl extended a gold bracelet with a ladybug charm, one Tangerine hadn't even noticed was missing. Although it was plausible that it could've come off in the chaos of the crash, there would've been no way for the girl to have gotten her hands on it. Tangerine had never left the car.

“…Thank you?” Tangerine carefully took it, half expecting for the girl to lunge at him and wring his neck, but she just passively allowed him to rewrap it around his wrist.

“Are you alright? Do you, uh, do you need an ambulance?” Lemon asked tentatively. The girl shook her head.

“No, I'm okay.”

“I'm Antonina.” She stuck out her hand, Lemon confusedly took it. Tangerine, still entirely put off by the situation, crossed his arms tight around his chest. Antonina stared with blank eyes, her hand still extended until a car honk caught her attention.

“Antonina! Are you ready to go?” Lemon looked to see a previously unnoticed black car sitting at the curb. The front passenger door opened to reveal a figure neither twin ever expected to see alive again.

The Son.

Percy. Fucking. Reznikov.

The Son locked eyes with the twins, his face went pale as his brain fully processed why their faces were familiar.

“It's okay.” They looked down to the girl who was now smiling, leaning in like she was telling a secret.

“I didn't say you hit me with a car. I said you helped me after someone beat me up.”

With that she skipped off to the car. The Son eventually went back inside too after a little nod towards the twins. Tangerine tried to reciprocate it with as straight of a face as he could muster.

And just like how they appeared, they were gone. Lemon quickly locked the door.

“Tang.”

“Lemon.”

“Did you notice the driver was that Wolf fella?”

Tangerine sat on the couch for a moment, staring at the paused cartoon.

“We need to move out of this fucking neighborhood.”