#because he knows his luck with Rose has run out

[loupettes]

thinking about how these two conversations happened only hours apart :(

#doctor who #NO but imagine him getting asked that question again by Donna #like only a couple of hours after Rose asked him the very same question #and with Rose he had to suck it up and say the last thing he wanted to say #and he probably knows its unlikely he'll ever run into Donna again #but he's had enough goodbyes today #and he has to hold on to at least something #because #he can never see Rose again #he was finally letting himself believe he might just be able to keep her forever #and now she's gone #so the next time he meets somebody who gives him a reason to carry on #who gives him a reason to believe in good again #and even if he *doesn't* think it's likely he'll see her again #he smiles and hopes for it to be true #because he knows his luck with Rose has run out #lord give me strength #is this #hold on #is this a LOUPTAG #loup.tag #its a christmas miracle #in my FEELINGS #tenth doctor #rose tyler #donna noble

[frogchiro]

virgin sacrifice reader offered to war god ghost?? prepare to be his lovely wife instead of a sacrifice with at least 10 demigods running around, he wants to raise strong warriors!

Ghost would definitely be a god similiar to Ares; a god of war, brutality, bloodshed, masculinity and virility. Men go and pray by his shrine or in his dedicated temple to give them strength in both battle and bed, to be a strong and unbeatable warrior and be able to father strong, healthy children.

One such temple, the main one, is in a surprisingly remote location, surrounded not by a major city or capital but a few villages. According to myths it was this place where a brutal battle took place millenia ago where the fearsome god Ghost defeated an army all by himself, the blood of his slain enemies served to make the land fertile and for many villages to grow and prosper...until now.

Usually sacrifaces to appease the god would be made by the men of the villages; black stallions, the strongest bulls, wine, silver and pure steel, everything that has connections to masculinity and power, however some kind of horrible fatum seems to hang over your little village. The animals either die young or are sickly and weak, the wine turns out sour like vinegar, there in so money to buy anything either and it's taken as a curse by the elders. If nothing will be done and Ghost won't have his sacrifice who knows what will happen?

So they decide on the next best thing, a desperate last choice reach in hopes to appease the brutal god-a virgin sacrifice. The prettiest, unmarried and untouched young woman is to be chosen, dressed in the finest, gauzy silks and locked inside the stone temple in hopes that the god will come down and the blood of a slain virgin will calm his fury. Luck wasn't on your side it seems, you were chosen.

All you could remember were the desperate cries of your mother, the dissapointed remorseful look on your father's face and the ritual cleansing of the old crones in the village. You were cleaned in rose water, intricate patterns were drawn with a mixture of honey, mushed up berries and flowers on your breasts, around your nipples and bellybutton, and the most intricate was drawn on the place where your womb was. You were clothed in a white gauzy dress that was a symbol of your purity and then you were bound and dragged to the temple no matter how much you struggled and kicked and pleaded until you were finally locked in the dimly lit temple, only the many candles present to lighten the main chamber and to show the powerful, majestic sculpture of the god, Ghost.

Imagine crying yourself to sleep, everything hurt, you were scared and confused, all alone to die in this forsaken temple because some old men decided on it. Falling asleep out of exhaustion, the images of your crying, terrified mother haunting you even when sleeping.

Imagine waking up and instead of feeling cold and sore from sleeping on the unforgiving stone floor, and instead finding yourself laying on and under the most luxurious furs you've ever seen, the warmth of them felt like a blanket and the smell of them, pleasant warm masculine musk made a shiver run down your spine, just where were you?

Before you had the chance of looking around the room, you felt huge, strong arms clamping togehter around you and bringing you into a powerful, broad chest which rumbled with a growl like purr and a stern voice saying:

"Stay. Don't move around girl."

And the very same arms turned you gently around to face the man behind you and you couldn't help but gasp and breath out a tiny, frightened yelp-behind you was laying a man who looked like the stone sculpture of Ghost cane to life and became human. It...it was Ghost. You laid next to a god.

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #THIS IS SUCH A DELIGHTFUL ASK AND IDEA #sorry for this shitty ending but it was getting too long😭 #but i'm more than open to explore this more 💕💕 #god of war!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: ITADORI

A/N: Quarterback Itadori with #20 on his jersey realizes he has a little (big) problem with a certain cheerleader turned Chem tutor (who also happens to be just a little bit older 🤭). Anon this one is for you! I hope you enjoy 💋

S/N: I’ve never giggled so much writing a piece. This one was so funny to me.

C/W: Aged up characters (19+), college AU, Mature, 18+

“ITADORI!”

Oh for fucks sake.

Yuji can’t drag away from the pyramid of cheerleaders right of center field.

“Coach?”

“IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A SKIRT AND BACKFLIP FOR THE BOYS THEN JUST SAY THAT?!”

His teammates erupt in a chorus of laughter. Coach Yaga is an ass.

Fact.

But he is also living, breathing, comedic relief.

“I would coach, but they aren’t my type!”

Yuji yells back, eyes still lasered to your back. He knows it’ll sear Yaga’s skin right off the bone.

Whatever.

What’s a few more seconds, right?

You are just so…hot.

In a mind-bending kinda way. An optical illusion. Or desert mirage.

A fresh water oasis in a destitute wasteland. Always just a few more steps away. No matter how long he’s been crawling on his knees.

His knees.

He’d kill to be on his knees for you. Diving head first into—

“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET BACK ON THE FIELD. PINK TOP IDIOT!!”

“Yes sir!” Times up.

“Dude, she’s a smoke show.”

The team’s starting running back (#14) rests his arm on Yuji’s shoulder. Just as four bodies fling you so far against gravity it is questionable whether you’ll come down.

“She’s perfect.”

“And a junior.” #14 reminds him, tugging his helmet back over his head.

“So?”

“Okay, freshmeat. Someone’s got mommy issues.”

Yuji bursts into full belly laughter. Stealing one last glance at you before pulling his helmet on.

His teammates never fail to remind him that he’s the only freshman in Tokyo University history to make starting lineup.

Not to mention quarterback.

“#14, #20 IF YOU DONT STOP RUBBING DICKS ILL WEAR BOTH OF YOUR ASSES TO THE BONE THIS AFTERNOON.”

Yuji promptly takes position at center field. He knows better than to push his luck. Two-a-days are already brutal enough, he has no intention of making his life harder than it is.

But you do.

You are setting flames to the hoops Yuji has to jump through to get through study hall and afternoon practice.

Why else would you wear those yoga pants?

They’re a second skin, for Christ’s sake.

Might as well be body paint. Outlining every tantalizing, serpentine curve. Pretty, full hips. Plump, tight ass. The mouthwatering, puffy rose between your legs just begging to be watered. By his tongue.

Yuji’s palm digs into his crotch. Trying to force his pulsating length from tenting up into the table. Cursing himself for changing out of his compression shorts.

“Hello? Yuji?”

Your dulcet voice echoes between his ears and curls around his dick. Jerking him back down to earth.

“Y-yeah? Hi.”

Yuji forces an acknowledgement through the sharp edges of his voice box. Sitting fully erect in his seat. Scrambling to find the pencil that was supposed to be mirroring your work on the whiteboard.

Because not only are you a perfect 10 on and off the field; you are a prodigy when it comes to chemistry.

And currently in the middle of trying to diffuse some of your excess knowledge into his very deficient head.

You toss your head back. Your laughter is definitely why tales of fishermen being lost at sea exists.

Light.

Breathy.

Soprano crescendo that’s rutting against the few folds in his brain.

“Why are you so distracted today, Yu?”

“Distracted?” His voice cracks.

“Ha—no, I’m not distracted. Sorry, walk me through it again.”

But before Yuji can retreat back into his daydream, you catch him in the Venus fly trap of your gaze. Tilting your head slightly.

Yuji swallows thickly. Frozen in place. Hand pushing down on his cock with all his might. As if you could see through the table.

Did you know he was staring at your ass? Can you tell how hard he is? Is there drool on his face? Shit, there must—

“Woah, the way the sun is catching your eyes right now, Yu.”

You take a half step to the side, allowing the full beam of light to caress Yuji’s already hot face.

A shaky hand swipes along the back of his neck.

“H-huh?”

“Your eyes are so pretty. Warm. Like hot chocolate with cinnamon.”

Your full lips curl into a soft smile. And Yuji bites down a pitiful whine.

“I—thanks.” You don’t hear him. Because he whispers through a wired shut jaw.

Yuji lets his erection tent up, grazing the table. He fists his base through his athletic pants. Ears fiery hot with embarrassment. His hand glides up and down his clothed cock without his permission.

Did you know?

That you snapped his self-control in half?

And shoved him into the darkest recesses of his mind?

Where his most depraved thoughts (and the King of Curses) lives?

Because all Yuji can see is the way your ass ripples and bounces while you scribble hieroglyphics on the whiteboard.

His mind’s eye is currently picturing him fucking you dumber than he is.

Fist full of hair in one hand. Both of your wrists behind your back in another. Mesmerized by the way your plump, fleshy mounds slam against his hips.

Maybe he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror?

So he can make you repeat how pretty you think his eyes are while he brands the shape of his cock into you.

Then he’ll tell you how pretty you are. Creaming all around his length. Drool raining down from your lips in sync with his thrusts.

Maybe he’ll stick a dildo on the mirror so he can watch your mouth get stuffed while he violates your insides?

You’ll look so pretty. When he fills you up with something warm. A little thicker than ‘hot chocolate with cinnamon.’

“Yu? Are you okay?” Genuine concern knocks his lust-drunk thoughts loose.

Yuji blinks himself back to this dimension. Chest heaving. Cramps blooming from his fingertips to his biceps from grasping his sex so hard. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained blood red. From chin to hairline.

“I-uh. Sick. I’m—I feel sick. Be right back.” He takes off to the male locker room at inhuman speed.

Yuji nearly doubles over the porcelain sink, glaring at his blown out pupils. Olive skin flushed like he just finished a marathon.

He can’t believe he was just groping himself like that in public. In plain sight.

All because you complimented his eyes?!

Who the hell is he?

“Sukuna, give it a rest.”

Yuji hisses poison at his curse. Because he surely wasnt responsible for those lewd actions.

“Oh, I’ll rest you PERMANENTLY you asinine little b—“

“I’m serious. Quit it.”

Yuji darts around the empty locker room. Accidentally raising his voice.

“Quit what, brat?”

“Quit…making me think..things like that.”

Sukuna’s bellowing laughter sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Deafening between Yuji’s ears.

“That’s all you kid. I’m only 10 fingers in. Don’t have that power…yet.”

Sukuna retreats to Yuji’s subconscious. Leaving him stunned. Disbelief crashing into him like tornado winds.

Yuji has never been a pervert.

Sure, he’s had crushes. But he knows how to control his impulses.

He might be dumb like one, but he’s not an actual dog…right?

Wrong.

Yuji dives into an empty stall while his teammates file in. Study hall is complete and afternoon warm-ups are starting soon.

And his neglected, weeping sex is clamoring for attention.

Missing it’s muse — your soft, curvy frame and the ways he wants to fill you.

One hand clamps over his mouth. While the other one tugs his pants down. Thick, heavy length springing free. Sticky and slick with his precum.

His head meets the cool wall. Hips thrusting against his fist. Broken whimpers pushing through the web spaces of his fingers that are digging into his cheek. Choking himself quiet so no one hears his pathetic hormone driven state.

“Mnnhgh f—fuck.” Muffled curses slip past his hand.

His cock is red and engorged. Angry from his abuse. But his hips can’t stop rutting into his hand. Picturing abusing your pretty, swollen cunt.

A hot tear rolls along his cheek, between his fingers. Salty on his tongue.

Curtains start to shade his vision and Yuji’s hands move to cup his bulbous tip. His muscular core tenses and strings of warm, thick seed fills his hands.

The world slowly starts to piece together. His heart rattling in its cage comes to a normal pace. Choppy, incomplete breaths gradually replaced with deep, relaxed ones.

Shit.

He’s in trouble.

Because he needs to pass chemistry to play football. And he needs you to pass.

But he can’t ever look you in the eye again after this display.

After one measly compliment.

How will he act if you bend over in front of him?

Or lean over a little too far?

God forbid you touch his arms or brush against him.?

Then a lightbulb goes off.

Yuji has the perfect solution.

He scrambles to clean up. Putting on his street clothes. Ignoring the quizzical looks from his teammates. He’s going to fix his little problem.

“Coach Yaga?” Yuji is met with an open office door and his coach’s nostrils flaring. Vein along his temple pulsing.

He draws in a steadying breath.

“I can’t play football anymore coach. I quit.”

“….YOU WHAT?!?!”

#jjk fanfic #jjk smut #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #jujutsu itadori #itadori smut #itadori x you #itadori fluff #yuji smut #yuji x reader #jjk yuji #jjk x reader #itadori yuuji #jjk yuuji #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #yuuji fluff #yuuji x you #jjk #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk x y/n #anime smut #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jjk spoilers

[mavsstar]

𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎

Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.

Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader

W.C︱4k

Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D

“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?” 

“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you. 

Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.

Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life. 

“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.” 

“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”

“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?” 

“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”

“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock. 

“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes. 

After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.

Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge. 

Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.  

You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs. 

“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.

“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground. 

You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge. 

“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise. 

“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door. 

“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.” 

“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door. 

“Princess…” he warningly said.

Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world. 

“I said I’ll give you a ride.” 

“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!” 

Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.” 

You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it. 

“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car. 

“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time. 

“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented. 

Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips. 

“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.” 

“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.” 

“Her father was not present in her life.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.

“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”

“Do that and she will call the cops on you.” 

“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?” 

“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-” 

“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!” 

“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.” 

“Ari?” 

“Yes Rob?” 

“Mind your business.” 

The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you. 

 Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”

“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear. 

“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.” 

“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!” 

Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.

“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.” 

“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.

“Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.” 

“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended. 

“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!” 

You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you. 

“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!” 

“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire. 

“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road. 

“Oh no,” you internally whined. 

“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.” 

“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him. 

“You’re not taking her.” 

Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?” 

“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag. 

Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard. 

The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.

“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.” 

“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?” 

“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.” 

“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked. 

“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.” 

“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.

“Is that all?” 

“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.” 

Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters. 

You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.

He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you. 

When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body. 

“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek. 

An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this. 

“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?” 

“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked you again. 

You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off. 

You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.

 Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague. 

Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated. 

“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.” 

“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air. 

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized. 

“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”  

“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.” 

“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.” 

“I will.” 

“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look. 

“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.

“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.” 

“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.” 

“Did you thank him?” 

“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you. 

The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you. 

When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new. 

“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you. 

You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.” 

“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.” 

“I promise,” you told him before he went inside. 

You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch. 

The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat. 

“Sweet Pea?”

You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.

“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you. 

“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.” 

“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.” 

“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.” 

“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused. 

“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.” 

“I really can’t—” 

“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes. 

You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel. 

“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes. 

His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down. 

“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.” 

“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.” 

Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. 

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out. 

Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.

Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more. 

The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts. 

“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.

“Anytime Sweet Pea.”

You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”

“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you. 

Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him. 

“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.” 

“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place. 

“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?” 

“Oh shut your trap.” 

“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked. 

“No it’s not!” Ari protested. 

“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.

“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied. 

“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari. 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.” 

“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted. 

“Yeah in jail.” 

Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor. 

“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants. 

His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief. 

All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again. 

He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.  

His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out. 

“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock. 

“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out. 

“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand. 

“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out. 

“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”

He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”

You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good. 

“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you. 

You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth. 

Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.

He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.

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[insuke69]

What's in a name?

✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader

Part I, Part II

1/3

Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.

✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, misunderstandings.

(mostly based on how earth-138 is)

Rated 13+(??).

✰5.7k words.

⚥Afab reader

_________________

Osborn.

“Norman Osborn”

A name everyone has learned for the worst part, the name ‘Osborn’ has run though the streets of Camden through the blood and dirt that drips through its pristine and marble image, spoken like the candyman–as if it were uttered three times, they’d be cursed and face the consequences. The man who hated the poor and less fortunate that were scattered through England. The man who kept his paws clean by hiring those who needed the money, then turning them into the crooked police for the crimes he made them do. The cruel family man who’s destroyed homeless shelters and remade them into his own buildings for business, legal or not.

“(Y/N) Osborn.”

Here she was. The daughter of this monster, the girl who receives bloody money that her father steals from the innocent, The daughter who people are afraid to even talk to out of fear of her dad, the girl who can’t refuse what she’s given because she understands how much worse it can be. That doesn’t stop her from still trying as much as she can. Sneaking out of her mansion most nights to try and get a taste of college parties. Whenever she goes out during the day with her dad’s black card, She spends it on clothes and gives it away to those she knows really needs it, always wearing a face-covering balaclava so her father doesn’t somehow find this out. Instead of the piano lessons she attended where her fingers gracefully flowed between those white elegant tiles to create beautiful classical music–she tried to learn the electric guitar, mostly teaching herself to the rhythmic sounds and rough rumble of the guitar that Hobie Brown wields.

“Hobie Brown“

A name recognized as well throughout Camdon but for the exact opposite reasons, a name that drips with earned respect, a firm rough hardwood image that's covered in stuck-out nails and splinters. A Punk that directly strives against fascists like Osborn, and who’s blood boils when he learns Osborn’s cruel plans to begin using the old Canals again–mostly to flush out the homeless that reside there, The homeless who Spiderpunk always seems to be visiting and helping out.

“Spiderpunk” 

Oh. Spiderpunk. A name Y/N can recognise due to her father’s phone calls that she overhears late at night, a name she always hears that is spit out with venom through her fathers and his colleagues lips, the name she sees in bold graffiti almost daily on her dads main company building. Jet black graffiti and red with blue undertones that drip almost beautifully down the glass panes it was sprayed upon. She always bites back a grin smile whenever she hears her dad ranting about the punk he ever so clearly despises.

_____________

Rough Meeting.

It was one of those days, those days where you despised everything in your life–that was unlucky, bad luck of yours to have been born in this universe. Bad luck that you were the daughter of a sadistic monster, how you were seen as a monster for even being related to him.

Guilt.

Rage.

Frustration.

These emotions burned through your veins, making your hands tense and chest heavy. These emotions pool in your eyes the moment you walk through your large white bedroom door and crash into your Jado Steel Style Rose-Gold Bed. Your tense body relaxing but messy black mascara tears flowing down your face. Nobody understood, it's like you were speaking their language on deaf ears that didn’t care to hear you out. They didn’t care to hear out the brat, The Spoiled girl who has her life handed to her, the brat that no matter how hard she tries-

Can’t prove anything to everyone who is dead set on her being a spoiled daddy’s girl.

With boiling tears drying upon your soft smooth skin, You get up and change out of the clothes your main ‘Maid’, Roxanne, had put out for you earlier for your Dads event of a damn Factory opening that was built over another destroyed shelter. Removing the ruffle black dress with small cute green ribbons to show off your dads company colors along for him to display his gorgeous daughter. It’s not like he cared for anyone's image besides his own anyways.

Glancing at the clock, you sigh and dip your head into the pillow again,

6:36pm

You take a calming breath and change into some jeans and a loose black tee after crying some more for a few moments, the shirt only allowed for you to wear at home since it wasn’t perfect and elegant enough for the Osborn image. Ugh. You enter your private marble bathroom to wash your face free of those streaks of ‘weakness’ as your dad would call it. 

“Hey! Uhm, Roxy?” You call out softly, your door soon opening with Roxanne standing by it and looking over at you expectantly.

“Yes, Miss?” Roxy said back in her usual calm and blank expression, her expression shifting ever so slightly at the sight of you wearing your usual clothing you do whenever you plan on sneaking out without Osborn knowing.

“Don’t let father see me going out, if he asks about me, tell him that I’m upset and tired from the event and to not disturb me.” you tell her as you reach under your bed to grab a shoebox where your balaclava, hoodie, and gloves are stored and hidden away. You wish you didn’t have to wear all this just to be an actually not-bad person, but you can’t risk angering your dad. He always told you to never dwell on what has to be done. 

“It’s a dog eat dog world, You can’t cry about others who don’t have the guts to do what has to be done.”

Those words are always playing in the back of your head, your own dad telling it to you soothingly to help stop your tears–when you were about eight. You were crying because you were thinking about the lives he’s ruined and took for you two. Well.. More like for Oscorp. 

You snap out of that memory as you clear your throat and put everything on to hide the safety of your identity while Roxy watches with that neutral face you’ve seen and known your whole life. She’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to a mother, by textbook definition because she brought you up with care and some affection. But your actual birth mom had died while giving birth to you, you never met her once besides the moment she passed with you in her arms. Since then, Your dad has seen you as if you were the last living part of her that he has besides memories and pictures of her. He's always telling you that you’re her spitting image but you just.. Can’t see it. Probably because she is always glowing and happy in her pictures with anyone, she had a normal college student experience with friends and parties, she didn’t have an overprotective dad. 

You roll the glove over your wrist, pausing ever so slightly at a white gold bracelet your dad gave you when you turned thirteen, with your grandmas and mother’s name engraved into it, and yours engraved below theirs. An important and old heirloom to your dad since he wants you to always remain in touch with your moms side of the family–not like your dad spent much time with his family anyways.

“When are you going to get over this phase?” You suddenly hear Roxy ask from behind you which makes you jump ever so slightly before subtly moving it a bit lower on your wrist so the bracelet chain does not get caught in the fabric of the gloves.

“You really want me to answer that?” You ask rhetorically before fixing the balaclava over your features while walking to your window and sitting on the sil, Kicking your legs out and looking out on the city and lowering sun before actually answering Roxy, realizing she sounded even a little.. Disappointed.. in you.

“The Osborn name has done- Irreversible damage, And I’m just trying to help out the people who need it, and pay for my dads actions with actual kindness.” Your tone is soft and a bit honest, you adjust your hands to push yourself out of the window before Roxy can even reply. 

Your thick black boots break your landing as you fall in the green fluffy grass garden that surrounds your mansion, rose bushes and flowers adding some color to it since your dad agreed it would look good for our image, as if it wasn’t soiled already.

You make your way out of your house and just walk, stopping by an old tree that stood beside the path from your house to the city. Your foot stands on a nook where the tree had a brach that went out and folded in itself and your hand stretched up into one of its hard woodend pockets until you feel a familiar fabric, you pull on it until the backpack falls out with your hand holding it by the handle and hopping off of the tree.

This was your secret backpack that you didn’t even want on your own property so you kept it safe in a tree. This bag contained little necessities along with spray paint, some basic tools, cash, and pepper spray. You keep walking down the path and arriving at the city, where the air was polluted and slightly hard to breathe while the rest of the city had occasional litter, trash, and shady looking people who make it seem like it's better to walk across the street to the other sidewalk. 

You usually went out at night to be able to put some of your art on display in the streets: You had a sketchbook full of small things that you usually spray-painted on canals, or outside the wall of abandoned buildings. You didn’t know what this secret ‘hobby’ was really called, you just walked the streets of the city until you found a good spot and started to make your art. 

Nothing was out of the ordinary until you walked past an alleyway and in the corner of your eye, you saw someone in dirty clothes wearing messed up jeans and a worn out jacket, sitting on the ground outside a little blue tent with a small fire in a bin that lights up some of the alley.

You come to a small halt and debate whether walking over to the person or leaving them alone, your vision focusing in the dim lighting and revealing the other few tents there, some of the tents zipped up and indicating that whoever is in there is sleeping, and some people standing around with a lit cigarette in their calloused hand.

You swallow that gut feeling to leave them alone and walk over to a gas station, buying some instant pizza, sandwiches, and food for the people you told yourself not to bother and walk back over to them with the plastic bag in hand. 

You approach the person you saw, but they look over at you and seem to tense and quickly stand as they face you.

“Hey! Hi, relax, I brought some things for you and your friends?” You said with a gentle soft tone as you stepped closer slowly since the vagabond seemed wary of you with their eyes locked on your face.

“Oh! Damn, I forgot, hang on.” You murmur as you reach up to pull your mask over your eyes to show your face so that the person would be less afraid of you, holding out the bag of food.

Their face changes into a grimace, as if disgusted at how you’re trying to help them out. Recognizing you as the creation they and their whole community despised due to the cruel name that comes after your first.

Osborn

They grimace at you and stare at you as if you were the one trying to drive them out of the city. The one that’s destroying non-profit shelters, as if it were your company that’s dumping all kinds of waste to the community- but that didn’t seem to have any matter to them anyways. 

Staring at you like you were some Monster.

“You’re not welcome here.” The person murmurs with a coldness and genuine hatred in their tone, sharp like an icicle that cuts through your heart sharply. It’s not like you couldn’t understand that, they didn’t know anything about you besides what your dad has done.

Before you can respond, they continue as they walk closer to you with their hands fisted to their sides,

“You aren’t welcome anywhere around here, you don’t even know what has been going on here, ‘princess’. You’re just some brat who needs some kind of sick ego boost to try and make people love you and respect your image.” Each word spat like venomous cold spikes as they gesture one of their hands, as they get closer–you can see the other people in the alley look over and seem to tense up and get worried in some way.

“I know what my father does, I’m so s-” You begin as you take a step back, but being cut off be the person speaking louder with exasperation in their tone.

“No you don’t! You don’t have any idea what Norman is even doing to us! You just sit there and look pretty while your dad is ruining lives!” And if there weren’t other people around- well, if there weren't one of their friends, a girl with baggy jeans and a gray beanie holding them back, you don’t question what would’ve happened to you or what they would’ve done if that girl wasn’t holding them back. 

“Dude..” The girl whisper yelled as she pulled the person yelling at you away from you and closer to herself, “What the hell are you doing? Don’t piss her off because she’ll tell her dad and he’ll fuck over each and everyone in this damn alleyway.” and she swats them on the shoulder.

Damn.

You really are just ‘daddy’s girl’.

You stay quiet and just place down the bag of treats and just walk off, out of the alleyway. Feeling the earlier emotions come to a boil once again as you fix the balaclava back on your face and walk down the pavement of the dimly lit street.

Rage.

Guilt.

Frustration.

With your eyes prickling with tears and resurfaced emotions following, you decide to walk to a part to calm down as the hot watered sadness drips from your eyes, down your cheeks and soaking into the fabric covering your face.

You find yourself here. Late at night. Silently sobbing your eyes out on a cold metallic bench you vividly remember your dad showing it to you when you were a kid.

You were about seven and you had fallen off a swing set and scraped your knee badly, you still have it slightly scarred on your knee if you looked for it enough.

Hot tears because of the burning pain on your soft flesh, you were sitting in this exact spot as your small hands were holding up your black and white striped leggings with your leg up, and Roxy tending to your wound with your dad sitting right beside you with his hand on his shoulder.

“You were reckless, and your mistake cost you. You don’t want to be getting hurt,” He begins before gently taking your chin with his calloused hand and making you look at him through sniffled sobs, “and you can’t be showing this weakness unless you want it to hurt you later on.” Your dad continued as he wiped away your tears with his leathery thumb brushing against your babyfat-filled cheeks.

And Now.

Crying like now you always did, as if you didn’t change. Still that little girl who only knows one thing: how to cry.

You sit back and hold your legs with your face in your knees, it's like everything that has been being held in–caused by your father or not.. Was crashing down and flooding your eyes like a broken dam through a canal. The balaclava grew damp before you hear an odd THWAP sound which makes you raise your head and look in the direction of the sound.

You see a familiar man with his gaze focused on you, wearing what seems to be a red spandex suit below a torn blue t-shirt and black ripped jeans that accentuate his already skinny and lanky body with a spiked leather jacket over his shoulders with several pins that decorate the chest  and a spiked mohawk on his head.

Once you notice him approaching you quickly reach your hand under the balaclava to wipe your cheeks from the excess tears, internally grateful that your mask was already dark and the moisture from your tears won’t be too visible to this man.

“Excuse me? You- you alrigh’?” The man asks, his soft yet cockney voice immediately making you recall who this man specifically was: You’ve heard his booming words at protest rallies but never saw from who the vocal fighting came from because of your dad and his security quickly ushering you away to keep you safe–or to keep you unaware of your father’s negative popularity. 

You sniffle for a second before answering “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a shitty night.” while you clutch your bag a bit closer to you since he was still a stranger to you. He sees you tense and he chuckles while shaking his head and putting his hands into his pockets.

“Calm down there, ‘m just making sure you’re not some dealer tryna make bad lives worse.” He says jokingly as he glances at the bag you’re clutching, but also at your body language, “You’ve gotta understand how it looks for me, to find some masked person sitting in a bench in the crappy part of town.” His voice was playful yet gentle as if to calm you, he had some kind of charm that made him seem almost easy to talk to–especially since this is the first conversation you’ve had in a while that wasn’t swayed against you due to your name.

“And imagine how this looks for me, some dude walking up to me as I’m sat happily on a park bench.” You say back to him with a smirk under your mask.

“Touché.” He chuckled as he shook his head and stepped closer while offering his hand, “The Name’s Spiderpunk.” Once he introduced himself, you felt a splash of relief as he confirmed who he was. His name is said in his own way, in such a calm manner that contrasts the venomous words your father speaks of him when he thinks you can’t hear his disrespectful language. “And you are..?”

His body language is weirdly calm and relaxed, not at all judging you or making you uncomfortable.. Is that a green flag or a red one? You take and shake his gloved hand with yours. This was the only time a stranger wasn’t immediately hostile or rude to you, and you didn’t want to lose that. ..So what’s a little white lie?

“Emily.” You answer him with a soft nod. Your mothers name? Why say her name?

“Emily,” Spiderpunk echoed with a smile in his voice, “And uh.. Wha’s with the whole.. getup?” He asked as he gestured to you vaguely, mostly to your mask that's covering your face and only shows your dark eyes and long lashes, that were ever so slightly red and puffy because of the earlier crying.

“Don’t worry about it, just- lets just say my face around here is.. Disliked.” Because of my damn father. 

He nods slightly, if he has some kind of expression on his face then you can’t even tell what it is because of his mask, you open your mouth to at least try and ask about that but he continued without realizing he practically interrupted you: your face is equally as covered.

“And uh.. Not that I don’ believe ya for your word, but I’ll have ‘o check that bag.” He says while gesturing at your backpack that you're clutching against you.

What? What kind of request is that? It’s not like you’ve even done anything to prompt this question in the first place, and who is he to ask about the bag or something?

“What are you, a cop? Some kind of narc?” You ask with your tone slightly more hostile than you’d want it to be. It’s not like you’re hiding anything either, but you literally have money and spray paint: You can get in trouble for some vandalism you haven’t even done yet.

He pauses for a second, seeming genuinely offended that you accused him of being a cop, as if you called him something below the respect that even vermin have.

“No. Nothing of the sort, never compare me to a cop.” He tells you firmly before muttering under his breath, “fucking pigs.” and without warning, he thwips a white silky rope out of his wrist and it attaches itself to your bag and rips it from your grasp.

You find yourself staring at Spiderpunk as he starts to casually go through your bag as if it were nothing and like you fully offered it to him. He chuckles as he sees some of your spray paint, you hear the cans clink as he shoves his hand into it and checks everything out.

“Tha’s it? Here I was partly thinking you’re some dealer trying to make sure this part of camden stays ghetto, but nah,” He hands you back your bag–He seems mostly amused by the obvious grin in his voice, “You’re just a stree’ artist?”

Street artist? That's what it’s called? You always loved art ever since you were a kid–So your dad always provided you art lessons, good paint, expensive sketching pencils, but he always made you draw boring things like fruit bowls or paint sunsets. But you even one time helped him with ideas for the Oscorp logo! That was fun for you at the time before you knew the shit Oscorp was doing.

But you realize he was pretty much asking for you to confirm if you’re a street artist or not. “Yeah- Yeah, I’m a.. Street artist?” You respond as you take the bag back, not even knowing if you’re saying it right, but you shouldn’t rely on someone to teach you so you reword what you said with a bit more of a firm tone “Yeah. I’m a street artist, tonight I haven’t really done art though.”

He nods and stays quiet for a moment as he looks at your masked face before he looks around and holds out his hand for you as if to help you up.

“Come with me, I know a good spot where you can put up your stuff. I was on my way there anyway so I could show you.” He had this tone where you knew you could say no, swat his hand away and run, politely decline and leave, Something but.. 

“Sure.” 

You take his hand and stand before slinging your backpack handle over one of your shoulders. His mask hiding every bit of emotion he can possibly be showing besides the lenses over his eyes that squint slightly at an expression every once in a while but beyond that–you have to heavily rely on reading his tones and body language.

“Do you trust me?” He asked as he glanced over at you. He seemed like he wanted to do something and just wanted some of your approval. He seems strong and like he’s able to do a lot–and he leaves the decision all up to you.

With an unsure nod of your head, he pulls you closer and wraps his arm around your waist, "Hold on." He told you before shooting a web of his up to a building, your arms wrap around his neck–over his shoulders.

You shut your eyes tightly as you suddenly stop feeling the ground below your feet and cold air hitting and blowing against your body as you swing through the city and hold onto him for dear fucking life.

“My god, holy shit.” You say as you try not to yell but unable to be silent. Spiderpunk holds on to you with one strong slim arm around you and the other expertly shooting webs and slinging through the streets of Camden as if it's some common occurrence for him–well, it was.

Your vision is slightly blurred with the lights and the slight tears forming because of the dry wind blown against them. But before you know it–you’re on the ground again with a soft thud with Spiderpunk still holding onto you like it's nothing.

“You alrigh’?” He asks with some kind of smug tone that implies he somehow finds how you clung on to him amusing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It's just that not everyone is used to slinging through the air.” You respond sarcastically as you let go of his with his hand on your waist lingering for a second before it falls to his side and his other arm raising his hand to gesture where you guys are and you feel your stomach drop once you see a familiar green logo- no, a familiar cut ribbon as well.

This is the new factory my dad opened.

Well, it wasn’t completely new that Spiderpunk was on his way to vandalize your dads newest business- how could you have forgotten? Your heart beats in your ribs as your eyes dart to the hidden cameras you know are there because your dad asked you to adjust them and help so you make sure they cover the whole area. “W-we shouldn't be here, at all.” you tell him as you grab his arm to keep him from getting too close to which he fully laughs while shaking his head and putting a hand over his eyes, Is this some sick joke to him?

“Didn’ think of you as the type to be afraid of Osborn. You’re full of surprises.” He coos while softly clutching his stomach teasingly.

“What? No! It’s just- there's security and-” You begin, before being cut off before he shoots webs in all directions and corners of the wall as though to cover the cameras- he over did some webs but they are definitely covered now.

“And we’re wearing masks. Osborn has nothing on us- and that sadistic fascist probably can pay someone to clean up. Bet this is worth pennies to him.” Spiderpunk scoffs, his voice full of disdain and genuine venom towards your father–and he doesn’t even know it.

Something about his words ring into your ears, it’s not like you didn’t know your dad was practically hated by everyone that wasn’t rich and privileged.

So why did this feel more.. real?

More true? 

As if watching these acts in person other than the news you secretly watch is more.. In your face about these situations?

You swallow a big gulp and nod and take out your bag and open it to show the spray paints. Spiderpunk’s lenses squint as if he were smiling at you.

“Good girl.” He teased

The rest of  the night is a bit of a blur. A blur full of laughter, smiling, story telling, and paint. Spiderpunk makes his usual tag on the building as you try to get the hang of using spray paint cans. Genuine laughs from Spiderpunk when you have a stupid yet funny comment, and a smile seen in your eyes when he has a joke. Something warm develops in your chest and cheeks by being in his playful presence, a bit foreign but it's a nice feeling. Like a warm hug..

At one point you two actually get to painting, with a practice ‘drawing’ being a little spider like the one he has on the back of his jacket. “Aw, nice! Am I like your muse?” He coos as he looks at the art you’re making with a hand on his hip.

You chuckle as you glance at him then look away to focus on the spider itself, “Like it? It looks l-” You pause and cut yourself off at the sound of a camera and a light flashing. Your head whips towards the sound and you see Spiderpunk took a polaroid picture of you.

You watch as the picture prints and he shakes it while it develops before giving it to you with a squinted lensed smile again. You see the picture is of you with your back turned and the spray paint can in your hand while it decorates the blank gray wall it's on.

“Keep i’, let it be a reminder of the time you met Spiderpunk.” He comments playfully as he picks up another spray paint can and goes to the free spot of the wall beside you which makes you laugh and shake your head while he chuckles softly.

But then you think of a question that ends up erupting from your throat as you put the picture into your jean pocket.

“Hey, Spiderpunk..” You begin as you spray a line of your paint, leaving a streak of black since you’re starting on the outline.

“Yeah?” He responds as he holds his own spray paint can in one spot to create the little dripage to give his tag the right style.

“Why do you hate Osborn so much? I mean, I dislike him too, but do you have a specific reason to hate him?” 

Spiderpunk pauses slightly but keeps his gaze to the wall instead of looking at you.

“He is ruining lives and screwing people over for his own selfish gains. He’s a fascist twa’ that likes the power trip. And I can’t stand his pompous daugh’er either.” He answers while going back to what he was doing with his paint.

At this, you’re the one who pauses and keeps your gaze away. Before you can ask a little follow up–your phone goes off and you check it with eyes going wide once you see the time.

1:03am

Shit.

How long have you two been spray painting? You have to seriously get home before Roxy worries- 

Or before your dad finds out you’re gone.

“I have to get the hell home- like.. Right fucking now.” You say as you scramble to grab your things and shove the almost empty paint cans into your bag, suddenly aware of what can happen to you if you arrive late- Roxy is always giving passive aggressive threats of telling on you to Osborn if you arrive home late.

Spiderpunk gets confused at how you suddenly have an urge to leave but helps you pick up your stuff anyway. “Heh, did you sneak out or something..?” He asks with a chuckle but is mostly curious as to why you’re leaving in such a hurry now.

You breathlessly chuckle before zipping up your bag. “Yeah, something like that.. Can you-” You cut yourself off as you realize you were about to ask him to take you home. Obviously he can’t know who you are- you cant lose this friendship.. Or whatever this is.

“Take me over to the park you found me. Now. ..please.” You say as you sling your bag over your shoulder and wrap your arms around his neck again–even if this time his body is warmer and there's something there that makes your heartbeat a little faster.

“Wow, and I was ‘bout to ask if you were sick of me already.” He coos teasingly before putting his arm around your waist, and with a secure grip you’re swinging through the air again.

You roll your eyes and hold onto him, he comes to a stop at the park and leaves you exactly where he found you-

On the bench.

You awkwardly say your goodbyes before bolting away in the direction you first came, you hastily put your backpack back into the tree and make your way through the dark garden. You smile to yourself as you think back on everything that you and that masked punk did tonight.

You climb up the tree beside your window and jump into your warm bedroom where the only lighting was the bathroom light you probably forgot to turn off and the hallway light outside your bedroom door peeking in from below the wooden barrier.

You kick off your boots and start removing your mask as you walk back over to where the shoebox under your bed hides. You enter your dimly lit room and see it just how you left it. You take a breath of relief and smile to yourself like an idiot as you think about Spiderpunk, walking to your bed as you remove the balaclava from your face and put it into the box along with your gloves and the picture.

Once you close the box and safely hide it under your bed, your dad suddenly bursts through your bedroom door and Roxy behind him.

“No! Mr. Osborn, She’s-” Roxy was saying to your dad before she looks at you and stares daggers for a moment before continuing more calmly, “See, sir? She’s right here.” 

She had been distracting your dad while you were gone and you definitely owed her something since she was busting her ass. Your Dad seems like he was fuming but his gaze softened when he saw his daughter in her room like roxy had been saying to him.

“Hey, sweetie.” He greeted, almost awkward because of his aggressive entry. “It’s late, you should go to bed.” Osborn says as he walked over to you kissed you on the forehead.

“Yeah, I was just about to do that.” You retort in the usual chipper tone you used with him so he really had no idea of all the things you did against his back.

___

The next morning you go downstairs to your kitchen but overhear your dad livid on a call, so you stand by the door and listen in without making yourself known.

“What?! What do you mean he already hit the damn new factory at Elm street?” He practically roars but keeps mind to his volume since he thinks you’re asleep.

You smile to yourself as he begins ranting about Spiderpunk, the grin widening once he says something that made your heart pump slightly faster.

“A second one? Who the hell does he think he is, bringing some kind of date to ruin my work.”

___ @eyesxxyou .... I did it.

I'll make part 2 if this does well since I also have sm shit to do now that I have a job.

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #atsv hobie #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie spiderverse #spiderpunk x reader #spiderman #fanfic #hobie brown #what’s in a name?

[tornado1992]

The world does not deserve some things.

It doesn’t deserve destruction, hate or cruelty.

Sonic has known this for quite a while, being some sort of fighter for nature or a so called “protector” of it by a lot of people, he’s not so sure about that though.

Just as the world can be beautiful it can become dreadful, the world gives origin to everything in it, and that everything is part of the world itself.

The people that live in it are the part that shows the contrast the most clearly, just as some inhabitants are kind, take care of each other and enjoy the wonders it has to offer, there was a few of them that seemed to spite everything that wasn’t like them, everything they didn’t like, and everything that wasn’t theirs. Sonic knows that, he’s been fighting that enough time to be named a protector.

All things considered, to him the world still meant kindness, endless opportunities, adventure… and it meant freedom.

Then it meant something else.

Between all his fighting and running, he met and befriended a lot of the ones that called him a hero before he could even process the title, some of them energetic, some hotheaded, and some unbothered, they reminded him that even if there was despair or tragedy, the world he knew and loved was still there.

At least it was there to him.

Getting to know all the world meant getting almost as much deception and anger as happiness, every new place meant new sceneries, new ways, and new people, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if it meant taking all the damage himself, getting to know everything personally was better than blindly trusting anything he was told, he knew it was worth it; he confirmed it when he went through one of the worst parts to find the absolute best one.

The place wasn’t even bad looking, the nature growing harmoniously beside the artificial work, it gave a peaceful kind of vibe, the people seemed kind and respectful, kids playing and chasing each other while adults looked out for them from afar, even welcoming him with open arms not caring if he was a stranger, “a united and caring community”, no sight of conflict or cruelty came to view, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them. Only kind words and even warm chilli dogs greeted him. He thought this was the kind of place he would fight for.

That thought lasted less than an hour.

It really doesn’t take much longer than 10 minutes to completely change your perspective of a so called perfect community when after thirty minutes of an apparent peaceful environment you notice the sick looking child they suddenly chase down the woods so he doesn’t “steal their food and gives them bad fortune”. Sonic gives them a full minute of doubt, doubt to himself as what he’s hearing and seeing, because that can’t be right, because it must be a mistake. What reason could there be for a kid to “give bad luck”? Why would a kid need to “steal” food? And why would he be called a “curse”?

Some villager takes a long four minutes to explain the reason for all that, falling down to “that mutant was born with two tails”.

Sonic spends the next five minutes looking for the kid, and restraining himself from committing several crimes.

He had to focus, ending a full village’s whole career can wait, what cannot wait is the fox kit that just ran away from a group of kids leaving a trail of blood behind him. Even in the thick forest tundra it’s easy to see the big droplets of blood on the tree branches, the ground, and the tiny bush that kept trembling.

That’s where he found him.

A fox kit, didn’t looked any older than two, but by what he heard he could even be four. He looked way too tiny to be around four.

Big baby blue eyes greet him, a glassy sight, sorrow, confusion and sadness behind them.

The moment the fox noticed the speedster he tried to run, but the bush was too thick around him, and his back was facing a big tree log, he was trapped, the kid flinched every time he moved towards him, whined whenever Sonic rose to stand, and even started silently tearing up while curling around his tiny bruised body when he tried to reach for him. This kid thought Sonic wanted to hurt him.

How much does a kid has to suffer for his first reaction to some one approaching him being to cry, tremble and try to protect themselves?

Sonic can’t decide what enrages him more, the matted brown fur that surely must mean a long time without proper care for it, the bruised skinny body that trembled every few seconds as if it couldn’t stand by itself, the obviously recent bleeding nose that made the fox kit whimper every time he breathed, or the so clear loud sound of an empty stomach.

This was the result of long period of abuse and neglect, and by the way the kid hugged his twin tails while crying, Sonic would even call it torture.

Sonic couldn’t help him without getting close to him, but the kit wouldn’t let him near him without flinching. Putting the kid through more distress was not an option, but leaving him alone wasn’t one either, and the kid needed help, so he stayed. Sitting beside the trembling bush, taking watch in case some of those hollow hearted villagers came back while thinking of a way of helping the kid.

This is not the kind of help Sonic is used to offer, but he cannot just leave the kit alone. Even if he didn’t know anything about taking care of younger kids, even if his first aid kit was almost empty in his plane far away from him, even if the fox cried at the very sight of him, Sonic won’t leave him alone.

He doesn’t remember feeling like this before. Frustrating, he remembers some adults calling it, a feeling of helplessness, anger, and even sadness that consumes one self through the impossibility of effective action, in his case, the impossibility of helping.

And so he found himself, frustrated, sitting on the forest ground while rubbing his eyes with his hand, who knew, frustration is stressful; he kept at that for a few long minutes, until he felt a slight touch in his back. Finding those big blue eyes when he turned his head, a tiny gloveless paw patting him gently, careful with his quills but yet touching them, trying to comfort him.

This kid could barely stand, was obviously scared, at the verge of tears, and hurting from the beating the other kids gave him; and he was trying to make Sonic feel better.

It was clear now, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them because they put all the cruelty and hatred in a kid, an innocent, tiny, and so kind hearted kid. The same village that greeted Sonic with kind words and offered him warm food was willing to let a literal toddler starve, if he wasn’t killed by the village’s youngest inhabitants first. All over something that wasn’t even bad, it wasn’t even his fault.

That won’t do.

Looking less distressed than before but still trembling wasn’t an ideal state to approach the twin tailed kit, but again, the kid needed help, the most urgent now being probably first aid, but Sonic sadly knew that the thing that would calm down the kid more would be something to eat.

Sonic offered him a smile, an attempt to soothe him, standing as slowly as he could not to scare the kid, and running as fast as his legs allowed him to return with four chili dogs was the game plan, managing to startle the kid a little bit with his rushed return, with the most difficult part of the plan being convincing the kid that the food was for him, that he could eat, that it wouldn’t hurt him, that Sonic wouldn’t hurt him.

Words might be useful to communicate that, but they just might, this kid was obviously casted away from society, who knew since when, he might not even understand him, well, if he used words that is, for now he hopes his smile would do (that and him eating a chili dog himself so the kit would know it’s safe).

It took a while, but it seemed like the fox’s empty stomach finally convinced him to eat, his hands trembling as he grabbed the supper, eyes getting a different kind of teary as he took his first bite, his twin tails wagging as he devoured his second chili dog.

Sonic wasn’t much of a baby person, sure they were cute and all he didn’t saw the big deal, all babies were the same. But seeing this little kid, a hurt toddler, starting to smile and wet his eyes over something as simple as warm food.. while a part of him was burning with rage, another part of him couldn’t help but think that he wanted to see this kid truly smile.

He wonders how could anyone see this kid with anything but love.

So he stayed around him, always with a smile, but even bandages, chili dogs, and big smiles couldn’t help much with the kids perspective of the word, much less the perception of himself.

The only world the fox knew before Sonic was a merciless one, rejection, hate and cruelty being its main traits, with bad people who would hunt him down, hit him and hurt him because he was the bad one, just for existing in the same time and place as all of them, but not being the same as them. He believed he really was the bad one for some time.

Sonic wouldn’t allow that for any longer, so he took the best part of the world with him and never planned to return it.

His life wasn’t the ideal deal for a toddler, he couldn’t give him a traditional family structure, a roof over his head, or a warm bed, but he also didn’t trusted anyone else to take care of him, he didn’t trusted the world to take care of him. So he would take the job himself, this kid wouldn’t go a day without warm food, he would never lack shelter, and as long as Sonic was around, he would always protect him.

But Sonic still was a hero.

Sonic fought and ran, ran and fought, and when the running and fighting from him alone seemed like not enough, the kit didn’t even doubted risking his own life to help him.

After a life of suffering, as little and scared as he was, at barely four years old, he still wanted to protect the world that wronged him.

The world doesn’t deserve this kid.

But it was the world itself that gave Sonic the title of protector, guardian, and hero; he knows there are things worth fighting for, far more than the things that wouldn’t deserve any kind of protection.

He won’t deny the title, ever.

Because even if some day everything around him comes down, everyone gets mad and bad, and his own hope is questioned, he’ll still have a reason to fight.

After all, this kid is his world.

#miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #they are cosmic truth #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #wsatw #sth #he loves this kid #kinda based on thatbirdguy s tails ratify au #tailsratifyau #can still be read as the regular canon #tried to make it ambiguous enough but still put some references in there #their art so good u gotta see it #the bros #and remember they are each other’s world #baby miles tails prower #baby tails #they are brothers your honor

[meidnightrain]

HE IS LOVED❞ - aventurine

summary: he has been many things in his life, loved is one of them

warnings: reader is gn, angst, spoilers for 2.1 penacony quest

notes: maybe this counts as hurt/comfort, i'm not too sure actually. we have another one week to go before his release :)))

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @ryuryuryuyurboat , @toorurs , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @staarri , @rainswept

“what am i to you?” the words falter even before they leave his lips, willing himself not to let his guard down even in front of you.

AVENTURINE has dreaded asking this question, lingering in his mind the first time he knew that he wanted you. your eyes twinkled under the fluorescent lights; they are stars in the lifeless abyss that is his. when the world comes to a standstill, the blaring music of the bar does not bore into the crevices of your brain any longer. everyone is frozen around you; only you two are unaffected by time.

you make him feel like he’s gambling, his heart racing faster than a car trying to beat the red light. it is not exhilaration; it is fear. it is his hand clenched under the table, shaking so violently, waiting for luck to run out eventually. the voices in his head grow, swirling like a sandstorm back on sigonia-iv. 

failure discarded selfish useless pointless coward murderer gambler blessed discarded loser chosen-one mother goddess's beloved crazy murderer

it’s the same feeling he gets when he prays to the mother goddess for the dice to fall in his favor, or his heart will be the price. the sand stings his eyes; it burns him. it takes him back to a time when all his problems were simpler than they are now.

blessed failure discarded loser pointless coward murderer chosen—one selfish, blessed, discarded loser

how does AVENTURINE live, knowing that everyone is gone because of him? why would you ever like him, who has the blood of innocents on his hand? why would you ever care for him, who has brought doom to his entire family? why would you ever love him, who is not worth more than a few copper coins? 

“are you okay?” your voice is soft under the howling sandstorm, and his breaths come off as ragged as he nods your concern away with a gambler’s grin. your lips move, but he cannot hear a thing. the world is too loud for him to hear, and he is suffocating. he faltered—one step, then two. he brushed it off; he stood straight, but he tripped. he is sinking; the floor is made of quicksand, but no one is there to pull him out. it’s overwhelming—the flashing lights and the booming bass—and the colours blur together in a dazzling display that makes him sick and makes him small.

and he can feel you shaking him by the shoulders in an attempt to snap him out of this daze, but he sinks deeper and deeper into this feeling that he has struggled to repress all this while. it makes you feel helpless, his mind spiralling down to where you cannot follow, watching him crumble due to your silence.

chosen-one loser discarded pointless coward murderer gambler blessed discarded useless loser chosen—one selfish mother goddess’s beloved

he does not realise that you have whisked him away to one of the private rooms of the casino. his chest is heaving with every breath he takes; it's like the hourglass he's in has tipped over and AVENTURINE is drowning in sand.

“how can you love someone who can’t even love himself?” his voice does not crack; it shatters in all the wrong places at the wrong time. he is not humiliated, nor is he embarrassed; he is exhausted. he has hidden for so long underneath rose-shaped lenses, kept his cards close to his chest, and hated himself so much that he could never imagine himself being loved. he is undeserving, he is a burden, he is unlovable, he is unlucky, and he is cursed. he is a loser. 

loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser.

you are calm, and the storm quells at the touch of your hand on his shoulder. the sand clears, the grains dissolve from his eyes, and he can see you. he can see the crinkle of your smile and the way the wind plays and tousles your hair; he sees all of you, and you see all of him. "by loving you. with everything that i am, you are not unloveable."

"you may not be able to love yourself right now, but i love you enough for the both of us." your arms enveloped every part of his trembling figure, and he held onto you for dear life, unwilling to let go.

AVENTURINE will never love himself. he doesn’t need to if he has you by his side. for all the love he had, it belonged to only you and his family. 

© AVENTURNE 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

#🗞️ - honkai star rail fics #—stellaronhvnters. #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine

[ddejavvu]

hiii, hope you’re having a good day! Could you do a request with animagus reader and marauders just being out and r is in Sirius’ bag or smth and a dog spooks her and she ends up running away panicked and they just start to run after her. tysm!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11

--

"Let me make absolutely sure that I am understanding you boys correctly." The stern tone of Professor Mcgonagall's voice never fails to chill the blood of those who hear it, but James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin are quite accustomed to the chill by now.

"You tore through the school's vegetable garden," She begins, "Then you trampled the roses. Then you tracked mud from those trampled roses through the Great Hall, interrupting a session of O.W.L.s that non-participating students were given plenty of warning not to disturb."

"Professor-" James starts, but Minerva snaps her gaze sternly to him.

"I am not finished, Mr. Potter, and you will not speak until I am."

He has the good sense to nod instead of giving a verbal response.

"Then. You went on a mad goose chase around the castle, that included not only breaking into faculty-only spaces, destroying art hung on these walls longer ago than you've been alive, but jumping from moving staircase to moving staircase?"

"I didn't mean to smash through that painting," Sirius offers earnestly, but when she whirls towards him, he's almost worried she'll strike him.

He knows she won't; she's like the mother he's never had, not the one that he does have.

"Fine! Fine, since you seem so eager to speak, tell me now: Why? Why was any of this necessary? Why did the three of you suddenly lose all sense?"

Sirius is rather surprised she hasn't yet noticed the lump beneath his sweater, but he's more than happy to tug at the neckline of the knitwear, "I was running after my cat, professor."

You know you'll be the only one to save them now, and you try appearing as endearing as possible as you stick your head out from Sirius's sweater, your furry ears brushing at his chin as you mewl plaintively at Professor Mcgonagall.

She blinks.

It's all she can do, because the boys in front of her are a permanent headache, and she asks, voice dangerously calm, "Why was your cat running, Mister Black?"

"She had a run-in with a wild dog," Remus explains, because if Sirius was left up to the task, he'd probably use adjectives like 'misunderstood' and 'unwillingly aggressive'. "She was tucked into Sirius's bag while we took a walk over the grounds. She likes to get out, but Sirius keeps her in his bag to be sure she's safe. But the dog must have smelled her, and he came out of the forest to charge for her. She startled and ran, and I can't say I blame her, Professor. Sirius was just worried for her, that's all. We would have really liked to avoid the chase as well."

A tense silence falls, and four pairs of eyes watch as Minerva Mcgonagall pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers and sighs. She neglects to tell Remus that it doesn't matter whether he'd have liked to avoid the chase or not; there's a hundred fifteen-year-olds mourning the loss of their exam time.

When it's unclear what her position is on your morning escapade, you slip out of the bottom of Sirius's sweater, and pad over to sit at her feet. Sirius draws in a breath, keeps it locked tightly in his lungs as you meow up at her, and when you have her attention, your tail flicks idly behind you.

"I don't like dogs either," She laments in a voice far too exhausted for ten in the morning, "Mister Black, if you or your friends ever treat this castle like a jungle gym again, I will make you scrub out the cracks in the stone dungeon walls with a toothbrush."

He tries not to grin, because his luck is far too strained, but he nods eagerly, "Yes ma'am. Thank you, Professor."

"Do not thank me," She glares warningly at him, "I am still tempted to feed you to wild dogs."

The boys stand, nodding at their professor as they file out of her office, but when Sirius calls you with open arms, she peers over her nose at him.

"Leave the cat," She instructs, and at his curious head tilt, she adds, "I had to listen to Mr. Filch tell me all about your antics this morning. At the moment I deserve better company."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

[dulcesiabits]

do you like me?, p.4.

summary: a collection of requested drabbles for a anniversary celebration for my blog, taken from two prompt lists! (ft. ace, riddle, azul, jade, floyd, ruggie, leona, kalim, jamil, vil, (platonic) ortho, silver, lilia, malleus).

info: 3.9k words, drabbles, fluff, angst

Ace Trappola

❛ don’t go where i can’t follow. ❜

Ace doesn’t even realize the words are out of his mouth until you turn to him in surprise, a cheeky grin tugging at your lips.

“What’s this? Scared I’m going to leave for alchemy class without you?”

Ace shrugs. There’s an urge to agree with you and pass his words off as a silly joke, to ignore whatever moment of vulnerability overtook him. After all, it was you he was talking about. Fearless, kind, clever. Always with a solution to every predicament he and your other friends ended up in.

But you were still a magicless human, thrown into situations most grown mages would tremble at. And sometimes, you’re so busy running towards the next adventure, he’s afraid that you’ll slip through his fingers.

“I mean it,” Ace said, ignoring your gaze. “If you’re going to do something stupid, don’t forget to bring me along.”

“I only do stupid things when I’m with you, don’t worry,” you tease. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving Ace Trappola behind.”

He rolls his eyes. Typical. He would simply have to run faster to keep up with you.

❛ wait, you think I'm cute? ❜

Ace was the last person who should have ever heard you say that you think he was cute.

And yet, because of your wonderful luck, there he stands, leaning against the doorway and shooting you a smug look. You should have been paying more attention to your surroundings. But, to be fair, you had been too busy talking with Deuce on the phone to realize you had an eavesdropping visitor.

“I don’t think you’re cute,” you say immediately. “You misheard me.”

“Righttttt.” Ace drags out the word as he sits on the couch next to you. You’re studiously staring at the loose stuffing poking out of a hole from the armrest. “You don’t know any other Aces around here. Be honest.”

“I said Deuce,” you say quickly. “I said Deuce was cute, not you.”

Ace frowns. “Juice, cute? Come on, prefect. Even your taste can’t be that bad.”

“I do have bad taste if I like you,” you grumble. Now it’s your turn to look smug as Ace blinks, unable to meet your gaze.

Riddle Rosehearts

❛ I’m not giving up on you. ❜

Riddle doesn’t even look at you as you speak. You rub soothing circles into his back as he sits with his head lowered.

“I’m scared,” he says quietly. You let him gather his words, his voice fragile. “I’m scared I can’t change.”

“Change takes time, and it’s never a straightforward process. It’s okay to stumble once in a while.”

“But what if I keep stumbling? What if I hurt--”

“Then I’ll catch you,” you say firmly. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone, Riddle.”

Riddle rests his head on your shoulder. For your part, all you do is put an arm around him, reassuring him with your touch.

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

You tap your cheek, watching Riddle’s face blush like one of the roses he tends to. He darts his eyes around the common room, but most people aren’t paying attention to the two of you.

“You aren’t going to give me one?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and Riddle deflates. You know he’s weak to you, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

“Just one,” he says, and moves in quickly to peck your cheek, so fast you could mistake it for a breeze.

“Thank you, my love,” you tease. Before he has time to move away, you turn and give him a kiss on his cheek, making sure to let your lips linger. “That’s for-- Riddle? Riddle?? Are you okay?”

❛ i can be your family. ❜

Riddle says it so casually that you almost miss it. Cater nudges Trey, who’s giving Riddle an appraising stare.

The four of you were studying for exams together, although Cater treated it like a gossip session, and Trey didn’t seem to be too bothered by his grades. You tried to take it seriously, if only to spare Riddle a headache.

“Er, Riddle?” you say tentatively. “Did you...”

“What?” Riddle looks up from his textbook, blinking. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Because you basically just proposed to the prefect!” Cater chimes in. “I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Riddle.”

“What are you--” Riddle’s eyes widen, and it seems like the words he just uttered hit him all at once. “Cater! That was-- I was simply suggesting... if the perfect couldn’t get back home, then my doors would always be open to them--”

“Sounds like Riddle has a crush,” Cater says teasingly. “Don’t forget to send us a wedding invitation!”

“Cater, no--” Trey begins, but it’s too late.

“Off with your head!”

Azul Ashengrotto

❛ why are you avoiding me? ❜

The lilt of his voice is even, the words rolling smoothly across his tongue. Not even a tremor escapes as Azul corners you in the hallway after school.

"Azul, I need to get to class,” you say, looking down at your feet. So he’s not even worth looking at anymore, huh?

“You have five minutes before class begins.”

“Azul--”

“That’s enough time to answer my question.”

“It’s over, Azul,” you say plainly. “Whatever there was between us is gone, so I want you to leave me alone.”

No hesitation, no emotion; you say it as gently as you can, and it still hits him like a truck. You look at him now, nothing but indifference and pity and a bit of annoyance in your eyes.

Azul doesn’t stop you as you step around him. His nails dig into his palm. No one is around to watch as the world crumbles beneath his feet.

❛ you don’t mean that. ❜

“I do,” you say. “Let’s break up.”

“Why? What did I do? Was it the date? Did you not like it? Or is it because we haven’t been spending time together? I can ask Jade to watch over Mostro--”

“Azul.” You hold up a hand, and his tirade of words breaks at the gesture, like a river parting around a stone. “I don’t want to drag this out. It’s nothing you did.”

“Then why--” His voice cracks, and he has never hated himself more. “Why are you leaving?”

“I’m just not interested anymore. We’re not that compatible. I really like you, I do, but... not in that way. I’m sorry, Azul. You can find someone better.”

You wait for him to respond, and when he doesn’t, you leave.

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

Azul doesn’t look at you as he says the words, but the red tinge on his ears is all you need to see.

“One kiss? What do I get out of it?” you ask, pretending to tap a finger against your chin in contemplation.

“Are you trying to make a deal with me?”

“I learned from the best.”

“Well…” Azul takes a breath. “In the interest of fairness, may I offer you a kiss in exchange?”

You laugh, tugging on the lapels of his coat to pull him closer to you. “I think that sounds more than fair! What happens if I want more than one kiss, though?”

“I would be open to further negotiations,” he says, and you lean in to peck his cheek.

“It’s a deal, then.”

Jade Leech

❛ It's just a scratch, don't worry. ❜ 

“A scratch?” Jade says slowly. “My. I think you and I have markedly different opinions for what counts as a scratch.”

“Jade—”

Jade’s hand smoothly grips the underside of your arm, gently pulling it up so he can look at the bandages peeking from under your shirt sleeve.

“Prefect,” he says calmly, “How big is this wound?”

“Not too big.”

Jade clicks his tongue, but doesn’t let go. “Please go see professor Crewel about this. If he tells you to take any medicine, then be sure not to skip a single dosage. I’ll be back to check in on you.”

“Huh? Where are you going?”

Jade’s smile gleams a little too brightly. “To talk to Azul, of course. I want to see if he knows about any physical altercations that’ve occurred on campus.”

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜ 

You say the comment without thinking, and Jade’s arms tighten around you. Your ear is pressed right against his chest; it’s hard to hear anything else.

“If it’s beating fast, then the reason why might be because a certain Ramshackle prefect acted quite recklessly.” His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. He smells like a fresh, salty sea breeze.

“I didn’t realize I was going to trip right into a monster, to be fair. You don’t really expect to see those on hikes.”

“You need to go hiking more.”

“... What sort of hikes do you go on?”

He rests his chin on the top of your head. You’re hiding in the shadows of a brush, where Jade has pulled you into after the monster you’d disturbed had chased you two. You’re not sure you need to be quite so close to Jade, but he keeps insisting you press closer for safety reasons.

“I go on quite a lot of hikes. I’ll have to take you out more.” You wonder why his heart is beating so fast; is it really because of the monster hunting you down, or is it something else?

❛ oh, now you care? ❜

"Is that a problem?” Jade asks. With his cordial tone and raised eyebrow, he makes you feel like you’re unreasonable.

“It is.”

“I don’t see an issue with worrying over my classmate--”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Classmates, huh? That’s all our relationship is, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes. You made it quite clear that’s all you want our relationship to be.“

“It is, so drop the act. As a classmate, you don’t have the right to get involved in my life anymore.”

“Prefect.” You turn, ignoring the call of your name. Jade doesn’t chase after you, doesn’t drop the pretense or faux politeness, and it makes you sick. Still, with each step away from Jade, you feel the weight of his gaze on your back.

What are you to him now? Something to be hunted down, a problem to be solved, or a puzzle he’s going to turn over and over until he can slot you perfectly into the right place?

Floyd Leech

❛ you don’t mean that. ❜

“Hah? Who do you think you are?” Worse than anger, worse than excitement, is Floyd’s boredom. His complete disinterest makes you shrink; he won’t even look at you, gazing somewhere over the top of your head.

“Floyd, you can’t say something--”

He rolls his eyes. “So?”

“It’s not okay--”

“Why does it matter? You’re not the one I’m talking to, right?”

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble--”

“I don’t care.”

“Floyd--”

“I don’t want to hear you lecture me. It’s annoying.”

Floyd doesn’t meet your eyes once as he jumps down the stairwell, skipping two or three steps at a time. You open your mouth, ready to remind him to be careful, before you think better of it. You weren’t someone he was going to listen to anymore.

❛ you're lucky that you're cute. ❜

Floyd’s grin is menacing with how wide it is. Already you’re starting to regret your word choice as Floyd wraps you in his arms, squeezing you so tight it’s just shy of being uncomfortable.

“You think I’m cute, shrimpy?”

“Not really--”

“You can’t take it back.”

“Floyd--”

“Hm?”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “Okay, you’re sort of cute. A little bit! So you’re lucky I’m not mad over you and Grim trashing the living room.”

“We were just having a bit of fun! If it bothers you that much, shrimpy, I can make him clean it up.”

“... You’re not going to?”

“Why would I? It’s more fun to spend time with you.”

You close your eyes. You had a feeling you would have a hard time getting mad at him no matter what he did from now on.

Ruggie Bucchi

❛ relationships are built on trust, and i trust you. ❜

“You trust me? Ruggie Bucchi trusts me?” you say with exaggerated surprise, scrunching your face at him. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out at all, but you had a habit of making him say things he normally wouldn’t.

“Don’t make me take it back,” Ruggie warns, moving to sandwich your cheeks between his hands. You puff your lips out, and he snickers.

“What did I do to deserve such a compliment?”

“You’re a good partner, ‘s all.”

“I’m just a good partner?”

“You’re the best partner I could ever have,” he contends, squeezing your nose once before letting go of your face. “Now, stop fishing for compliments and help me carry these groceries back to the dorm.”

❛ Nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ 

“Why not? They’ve always worked before,” Ruggie says. You can’t look at him; you know the second you do, you’ll cave into his demands and he’ll get his way. Curse his fluffy ears and cute, droopy eyes.

Ruggie moves to stand in front of you, but you turn your head to the left. When he moves to the left, you turn your head to the right.

“Come on!” Ruggie says, throwing his hands up. “Are you going to avoid me forever?”

“Yes. As long as you insist on trying to scam our classmates, then—”

“It’s not a scam,” Ruggie interrupts. “We’re just not being fully honest about the actual price of these drinks.”

“That’s a scam!”

“I’ll take you somewhere nice with the money. We can visit the town near campus, go to a fancy restaurant for once.”

“…”

“I’ll give you half of the profits?”

You wheel around to flash him a brilliant smile. “50%? I’m lucky I have such a generous partner. I’d love to work with you.”

Ruggie rolls his eyes. “Oh, so it’s not okay for me to scam our classmates, but it’s okay for you to toy with my heart and trick me— hey, cut it out with the puppy dog eyes!”

❛ You look awful. ❜ 

“Thanks.” You don’t lift your head from the desk as Ruggie utters the words, keeping your eyes closed.

“What, no backtalk?” There’s a rustle of clothing and a creak from one of the desks. Ruggie most likely hopped up to sit on one of them. “Did something happen?”

“There was an emergency in the kitchens this morning, and you’ll never guess who got woken up at the crack of dawn to wrangle some fairies into behaving.”

“Let me guess. You?”

“Bingo,” you groan. “And we had a test in magic history today—”

“Ow.”

“— Ace and Deuce picked a fight with some Pomefiore students, and now we have to write a five page essay on what we did wrong—”

“Double ow.”

“It’s just not a good day.”

Something touches on your back. It’s Ruggie’s hand, and he strokes soothing circles as he leans down to whisper to you. “Hey, listen. If you’re tired, why don’t we go get snacks from Sam’s? We can go back to Ramshackle, and turn on a movie or somethin’. Grab a blanket and cuddle up. Sounds like a plan?”

“… are we getting the food with Leona’s credit card?”

“We are getting it with Leona’s credit card,” Ruggie affirms.

You tilt your head to look up at him, trying to hide your smile. “You sure know how to cheer people up, Ruggie Bucchi.”

Leona Kingscholar

❛ do you want me to leave? ❜

Leona almost snarls “yes” before he registers who’s asking him that question. It’s you. He bites back his words, cracking open one eye to stare at you haughtily.

“If you want.”

You sigh, walking over until you drop onto the grassy knoll beside him. The wind stirs, causing the dappled shadows of the trees above you to shift.

You don’t ask him any questions. You don’t nag, chide, or scold him. Maybe that’s why he never hides when he knows you’re the one approaching him.

“Lend me your lap,” he says bluntly.

“Is that all I am to you? A pillow?” Despite your words, you still move to fold your legs underneath you.

Leona lifts himself enough to drop his head on your lap. “Yeah. A pretty good one.”

What can he do to get you to come around more often?

Kalim Al-Asim

❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜

You’re not sure how anyone in the world could resist Kalim when he looked at them with such a sweet, pleading expression. You, for one, were definitely not one of those who could.

“Of course,” you say, leaning to peck his cheek.

Kalim laughs, flinging his arms around you. “Yay! You’re the best. I’ll see you after class, okay?”

He runs off, pausing to turn around and wave at you energetically. However, he skids to a stop, and then runs right back into your arms.

“I almost forgot,” he says breathlessly, “you need a good-bye kiss, too!” Kalim plants a gentle kiss on your cheek. “I’ll come get more kisses after class!”

Jamil Viper

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

Jamil starts, face heating up, as he hears your teasing voice echo through the empty gym. All his club mates had filed out a long time ago. Only he had stayed behind to practice a bit more.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbles, wiping the sweat off his forehead with one quick move. “Don’t you have clubs to attend?”

“I got off early,” you quip. “I wish you looked as happy to see me as you did playing basketball.”

Jamil rolls his eyes, moving closer to you stealthily until he can press a kiss to your cheek. “I do like you more than basketball.”

You stick your tongue out at him, moving away. “You’re sweaty!”

“... Or maybe not.”

Vil Schoenheit

❛ Who did this? ❜

“Don’t worry, Vil. My face will heal--”

Vil’s scowl darkens as he steps closer to you, towering over you in his sharp  stilettos. You step back until Vil presses you against a wall, tilting your chin up with a perfectly manicured hand. He smells like lavender, you think dazedly.

“My sweet potato... do you really think I’m worried about your appearance at a time like this?” he says coolly. “I asked who did this to you.”

“It was an accident--”

“I know accidents when I see one. This looks like it was done on purpose.” A slim finger ghosts across the bruise on your cheek, and you shiver.

“I-- It was an accident. I bumped into someone, and--”

“So it was a fight?” he says slowly. “What dorm were they from?”

“I’m-I’m not sure.”

Vil clicks his tongue. “You don’t remember? Well, no matter. I have my own methods to find out who did this.”

Ortho Shroud

❛ you’re my family too. ❜

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Ortho’s expression flicker across so many different conflicting emotions so quickly: frustration, worry, sadness, affection.

He holds your swollen ankle gently, mumbling about medical terminology so advanced you can barely understand a word. After a while, he releases a roll of bandages and starts wrapping them firmly around your ankle.

“Ortho, I’m sorry-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want an apology! I’m just... I don’t want to lose anyone I care about,” he says. “So you have to take better care of yourself, okay? Please don’t get into any more fights.”

“Okay, okay.” You reach out to ruffle his hair, the warm flames tickling your palm. “I have to set a good example for my little brother, after all.”

Silver

❛ It's just a scratch, don't worry. ❜ 

“You’re bleeding! That is more than a scratch,” you scold, rolling Silver’s sleeve up to his shoulder to examine the gash on his arm. It was your fault for not paying attention until the blot monster was almost on you; if it hadn’t been for Silver’s quick reflexes, you would have died.

He leans forward, and you startle, thinking he’s falling. But Silver just rests his head on your shoulder, strands of hair tickling your cheek. “It’s okay. As long as you’re safe, then I can survive a thousand injuries.”

“Well,” you say with a sigh. “I’d prefer you not to get injured at all, prince charming.”

“I’d rather be your knight, not your prince,” he replies, and you loosen your tie to wrap it around his wound. “And I’ll protect you as long as you get in dangerous situations. But... I will try to get stronger so you won’t have to worry over me like this.”

❛ was that your first kiss? ❜

Silver’s eyes are hooded, his cheeks the same color of the dawn sky as he stares your lips. He doesn’t acknowledge your question. Maybe he didn’t hear you?

“Silver, was that--”

“It was,” he interrupts, blinking slowly. He’s dazed, and you wonder if even you could take him down in such a state. “It was my first kiss.”

“Oh! In that case, was it okay? Do you, um, need a break? Was I too rough--” Before you can finish, Silver cups your chin in his hand, his thumb so close to your bottom lip that you can feel the warmth from his skin.

“Can we do that again?” he asks quietly, and all you can do is nod as he brings his face closer.

Lilia Vanrouge

❛ It's just a scratch, don't worry. ❜

“Just a scratch?” Lilia tuts in disapproval, poking your forehead. “I’ve seen scratches before, and this could not be considered a scratch.”

“Lilia--” You try to sit up, but the cast on your leg makes moving harder than it used to be.

Lilia pokes you again until you lie down. “No arguing. You’re going to stay in the nurse’s office until you feel better.”

“Are you going to skip class to nurse me back to health?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

Lilia chuckles. “Well... It is Magic of History, and I think Trein is a little too young to be telling me about the past. Now...” He brings the blankets up to your chin, pressing a kiss to your forehead on the spot where he previously poked you. “Rest. I want to stay with you for a very, very long time, and you have to be in top form for that to happen.”

Malleus Draconia

❛ there it is, there’s that smile! ❜

If Sebek was anywhere around, he would slay you for what you were going to do. Luckily, it’s just you and Malleus, so you pinch his cheeks gently, stretching them out like taffy.

“Child of man, what is this?”

When you let go, you see that a smile blooming on his face as he looks at you in amusement and adoration.

“Nothing. Just trying to cheer you up,” you say. “You look cuter when you smile.”

Malleus’s gloved hand reaches out to stretch at your cheeks, pulling them out, ignoring your muffled protests. “I think you look cuter when you smile, too.”

#liya writes #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #jamil viper #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #ortho shroud #silver #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader

[kaplerrr]

König saves the day

Warning: based on a true story (based on two true stories actually), I am terrified of spiders and so is the reader in this one, König saves the day and prevents me you from having a stroke, fluff, König's your neighbour, first meeting??? Sort of ?? and you're referred as "small"

I need to vent because there was a f*cking spider in my room but no König to help me 😔😔😔

König was laying on the couch as he lazily scrolled through his phone. On his left was a glass of a warm beverage that was waiting to be drank, the weather was cloudy and windy and he was feeling at peace. A peace he rarely felt before. He sighed happily, turned off his phone and let his hand rest on his chest. He closed his eyes, the simpleness and the calmeness of his flat that he has missed so much for months were magically soothing his body, lifting an invisible weight off his shoulders. He felt himself dozing off, when-

Knock knock

A knock, so quiet he thought he had imagined it. He jumped on his feet, walking to the hall, looking the door as if it did something wrong.

Knock Knock

He quickly grabbed a mask, covered the bottom half of his face and opened the door.

And he looked at you.

His small neighbour.

You were looking terribly embarrassed, your eyes going wide as you looked at him and tried to maintain eye contact. He rose an eyebrow, confused and slightly worried. He wouldn't call you a friend, you were polite, kind and respectful but you never had a true conversation together. And honestly with his job he wasn't surprised, he was absent more often than not and he really wasn't one to go out and get friendly with people. But you seemed like a kind person for sure. You were for now his stressed neighbour.

And it was stressing him.

"Can I... Help you ?" He asked, unsure of what to say as an awkward silence settled.

You cleared your throat and tried to explain the current situation "Yeah, hi, hmm... I'm sorry that is so embarrassing but-" you stopped, your cheeks burning in shame "I mean.. I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"theresaspiderinmylivingroomandicanthandlethosethings" you said quickly, hoping he would understand.

He blinked, trying to understand what you had just said "Eh.. I'm sorry I didn't catch that, a spider ?"

You grimaced and sighed, trying to calm down "There's... A spider in my living room. And, the thing is, I'm very bad at handling those things, I just can't, they're- they're terrifying and... I mean, if I'm not bothering you, could you... Could you please help me get rid of it? Please ?" You hide your face in your hands, mortified. You were a grown up, you weren't supposed to bother other grown you barely knew up because of your fears.

König felt himself relax again and he wanted to sigh in relief that it was nothing dangerous but hold it back as he thought you might interpret this the wrong way.

Instead he smiled, eyes crinkling and nodded.

"Ja, of course, don't worry about it !" And just like that he stepped out of his flat, following you to yours.

___

As he saw how hesitant you were to enter your own flat, he suggested you to stay out for a minute so he could quickly eliminate the spider and bring you peace. You vividly agreed, thanking him profusely.

The spider was... Small. (no, you're just too tall konig) He didn't know what kind of spider he was expecting but now at least he understood how phobic you were. "I'm sorry little guy, nothing personal." He said before getting the job done.

___

"Thank you so much ! It means a lot, you prevented me from moving to a new place." you said only half joking, eyeing your walls fear running through your veins at the very idea of another spider intruding your home.

König noticed the quick glances you were giving to walls. "Do you want me to check the other rooms to make sure that no spider remains?" He asked kindly.

You paused for a moment. You wanted to say yes so bad, you were being paranoid about those spiders. But you didn't want to push your luck, your neighbour has done so much already you didn't want to overstep.

As you were gathering strength to refuse politely, you looked into his eyes. Beautiful baby blue eyes shining with kindness. He wasn't judging you and you wanted to believe that he wasn't asking that just out of politeness.

Your strength disappeared as quickly as it appeared and you sighed sheepishly "if it doesn't bother you, I would really appreciate that."

As soon as you said that, he disappeared, checking thoroughly each room. When he was satisfied, he came back, two thumbs up "your flat is spider free." He chuckled softly.

Your laugh was nervous even if you were feeling a little more at ease "I really don't know how to thank you enough for what you did" you smiled. Then your eyes widened "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name !" You quickly extended your arms, telling him your name, feeling silly for not asking that earlier.

"I haven't really thought about it either, so don't worry, we're even. I'm König" he said shaking your hand.

"Well, nice to meet you König." You beamed. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to thank you ? We can grab coffee sometime. Like tomorrow or Friday ? If you're fine with it, of course !" You cringed at your failed attempt of gratefulness that sounded more like a very bad flirting line.

König blushed but couldn't help laughing slightly, eyes so beautifully expressive.

"A coffee sounds great ! Friday's perfect."

_________

It's 2am, i should be sleeping, but here I am instead 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

#please i need konig in my life #i have no weakness except for spiders #thats a lie i have tons of weaknesses #and König is one of them #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x reader #konig cod #konig fluff #cod mw2 #könig my beloved #könig x y/n

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: angstyyy

Notes: Posting a day early - y’all can thank @losa12308 for catching me in a good mood, hope this helps ya feel better hun❤️

Word Count: 2130

Series Masterlist

Reader

Nearly two weeks Jacob Black has not only been ignoring and avoiding Bella, but Quil and I too. Ever since the night of the movies, since his uncharacteristically rude outburst at Mike Newton. Both of my best friends were stressed about it which in turn stresses me out. I’ve called him multiple times to leave voicemails about what he’s doing to his friends, but it was to no avail - radio silence remained.

Bella said Harry Clearwater told her it was mono, but anyone could smell that bullshit from a mile away. Did mono render you catatonic? Unable to communicate with people that care about you?

An uneasy feeling settled in my gut, it had to be more. Something was keeping him from us and I want to know what that something is.

I need to know, I can’t just lose another one…

• March 4th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Mom!” I shout through the empty house, trying to locate her.

A rare day we both have off to spend together and I’m about to ditch her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” I hear her voice drift from the laundry room as I make my way downstairs.

Turning as the sound of my approaching footsteps, she raises her eyebrows at my appearance - noting that my state of dress isn’t exactly for a day-in at home anymore.

“Bella called, was wondering if I’d go hiking with her? I think she just needs to take her mind off of Jake and wants company.”

My moms face falls slightly, but I can tell she won’t stop me from running to my best friend’s aid, “Just be careful and take your phone.”

“Thanks mom!” I surge forward and hug her quickly before snatching my keys from the hook by the door on my way out.

“And be back before dark!”

“Of course, love you!” I shout back.

“I love you too, honey!”

I speed almost the entire way to Bella’s - wanting to get her mind off of Jake was true, but she also wanted help finding the meadow.

As in, the meadow.

Her and Edward’s meadow.

• March 4th, 2006 • Ithaca, NY •

Jasper

For months I’ve been feeling with this crack in my soul because of her and I’ve been doing it alone. Admittedly it’s my own doing, but the chafing of not really having my brother in my corner has worn away at me in way that doubles the pain of the loss.

I find myself gravitating towards his closed door, something that before Ithaca would’ve been an odd sight, and knocking on the thin wood.

“Go away.” The words rumble in his distinct baritone just loud enough for me to hear.

“No.” I answer simply, just as tired.

The door whips open in a flash and his eyes send a shock through me. Not because they’re dark with hunger - but dark with anger. And his emotions reflect it threefold.

“What do you want?” His tone raises my hackles, reminding me that my brother isn’t one to be messed with in a mood like this one.

A delicate hand curls up and around his chest, the owner of it completely blocked from view by his massive frame, and he visibly deflates. His anger dialing back a fraction at the influence of just her touch.

A slice of pain lances through me, regret or just plain loneliness at this point I’m not sure.

“Hear him out.” Rose orders him softly, kissing him on the cheek as she slips out from behind him and meets my eyes before disappearing down the hall. “Good luck.”

I reign in the laugh that threatens to bubble up at her throwing me to the wolves, but it’s another thing I’m doing to myself of my own free will, I need my brother.

Holding open the door wider for me to enter, he turns on his heel and deposits himself into the loveseat across from the tv, some muted football game flashing on it.

“I miss you and I’m sorry.” I unload on him with no preamble. No drawn out apology has ever been a requirement of his, short and to the point always a favorite to him.

A dark laugh thunders from him in a way that crushes me even more, “That’s it?”

I nod, I had thought about this conversation for months since he started avoiding me, but all my rehearsed words vacate me.

“That’s one hell of an apology.” The remote emits a small crack as his anger continues to boil. “I got no say, no one wanted to hear me out, and I’m just supposed to suck it the fuck up and just go with the flow of what’s best for the family.” He’s practically vibrating with barely constrained rage, but I let him continue. “She’s not just yours, Jasper.”

A shock jolts me for the second time, his sadness tugging at my heart heavily.

“She’s yours and that’s what makes her mine.” I can tell my confusion spurs Emmett on and he rises from the couch, “As your brother, it’s my responsibility to be her protector and you fucking ripped that away from me. You’re hurting her on purpose and it’s hurting me.”

I’m speechless as his words sink in. Familial-like bonds in a coven as old as ours are strong, but I had no idea.

“She was also my best friend-my little sister. I told her I would be there for her and you’re making me break my promise - something I’ve never fucking done.” Turning away from me to pace in a very non-Emmett move, “Are you going to say anything?”

“I had no idea-”

“You never considered, never noticed, never asked. It’s only been you in pain. You and Edward. You don’t even see what it does to Alice every time you ask her to check on Y/n.”

Her name sends agony anew through me, a thin knife that slices flesh from bone with surgical precision.

“I’m scared.” He would’ve missed my whisper if it weren’t for his supernatural hearing.

“Scared of what?” He’s before me in a flash, gripping my shoulders. “Scared of loving her?”

“Scared of her loving me! Scared of hurting her!” The house falls into dead silence, listening. “You’ve never known terror like this with Rose! You’re not afraid to kill her just from being around her, smelling her, touching her. You have no restrictions, no boundaries!” Tears of venom swirl my vision, but refuse to fall.

I push him off me and turn, attempting to reign in my distress.

“Bro-”

“I can’t do this without you. It’s like wave after wave of grief and I’m at my limit Emmett.” The seriousness in my tone softens him, love and compassion flow from him in a way that feels like his old self and it loosens the tension inside me a fraction.

“I may be angry with you, but I’ll never leave you.” My brother spins me around and engulfs me in his signature bear-hug.

Esme may be the mother of our group, but Emmett is the glue holding us all together. I’d be drowning without my brother and if his death-grip of a hug is any indication, he knows it.

• March 4th, 2006 • Forks, WA •

Reader

“I’m pretty sure we passed that tree two times in the last hour, Bells.” Tromping behind my best friend, I keep my eyes fixed down to prevent myself from tripping over the dense foliage.

“We’re close, I just know it.” There’s a desperate edge to Bella’s voice that stops my teasing and squeezes my heart, I know that feeling. To be grasping for something out of reach to link me back to him.

Pushing through a particularly thick cluster of low-lying branches, I smack face first into Bella’s backpack.

“Bella, you can’t just stop-” Finally my surroundings make sense and I realize we’ve found it. It’s brown and sad as fuck, but we actually found it.

I spin, taking in every inch of the dead meadow as Bella drops to the ground, fingers clutching the crunchy grass. Facing the middle again, I gasp at the figure standing before us, the sound startling Bella into a standing position next to me.

“Bella and Y/n.”

“Laraunt.” His name is a choked gasp on my best friend’s lips.

“I didn’t expect to find either one of you here.” He begins pacing casually in front of us “I went to visit the Cullen’s, but the house is empty? I’m surprised they left you both behind. Weren’t you both sort of… pets of theirs?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that.” Bella answers him as I reach for her hand, a sort of dread sinking in as I think over his words and what he might be getting at.

“Do the Cullen’s visit often?”

You need to leave, darlin’. He’s not safe.

“Yeah absolutely - all the time.” Bella’s lie causes the hair on the back of my neck to raise.

“We’ll tell them you stopped by.” I chime in, trying to make it seem believable and also trying to keep the shaking from my voice - both from the deadly turn of the conversation and from hearing his voice in my head.

“I probably shouldn’t - Edward,” the name rolling of her tongue has her squeezing my hand in pain, “Because he’s pretty protective.”

“But he’s far away, isn’t he? They both are.”

Terror begins to flood my chest, he’s making sure we’re alone.

“Why are you here?” Bella flips the questioning onto Laraunt.

“I came as a favor… To Victoria.” His answer practically stops my heart and I know he can hear it.

“Victoria.” The whisper slips from me without a second thought.

“She asked me to see if either of you were still under the protection of the Cullens. Victoria feels it’s only fair to kill Edward’s and Jasper’s mates, given they killed her’s.” His eyes flicked between us, no doubt sensing the blow of both of their names. “An eye for an eye.”

“Edward would know who did it! And he’d come after you.”

Threaten him.

“Jasper would hunt both of you down.” My emotions fill my voice, the threat not as potent as it could be.

“I don’t think they will. After all, how much could you mean to them if they left you here, unprotected?” The vampire sighs, like he’s actually fucking torn, “Victoria won’t be happy about my killing you, but I can’t help myself - both of you are so mouth watering.”

“Please don’t, y-you helped us-” Bella begins to panic, but he flashes directly in front of us with his speed, fingers reaching for our faces.

“Shhh-shhh, don’t be afraid! I’m doing you a kindness - Victoria plans on killing you slowly, painfully. Whereas I’ll make it quick. I promise, you’ll feel nothing.”

“Edward I love you.” Bella’s confession slips as I close my eyes and squeeze her hand in mine. At least we go together, right?

“I can’t believe it.” The awe in Laraunt’s voice opens my eyes as twigs begin snapping in the tree line behind us.

One large wolf, black as night, emerges from the forest. Large being a gross understatement - more like the size of a fucking horse. Behind the massive animal emerges more of the same, although slightly smaller, but no less scary.

A pack of wolves. A pack of supernaturally huge wolves.

And they’re facing down a vampire, no less.

A vampire on a mission to kill us.

Run.

The command zings through me and takes charge. I yank on Bella’s arm as Laraunt bats away the first wolf like it was nothing, it’s yelp stunning her into action.

The panicked sprint through the woods for her truck is much faster this time than the hike out, neither of us stopping or looking back.

Afraid to see if anything was giving chase.

Afraid to see if the wolves didn’t buy us time.

The ride back to Bella’s was tense to say the least. Too stuck in my own head to even say anything to her, the terror still coursing through my veins keep my mouth shut and fists clenched. What if Laraunt got away from them? What if he was still hunting us?

I never realized until now how scary it is, not having the supernatural protection of the Cullens.

I never realized that I took for granted the safety Jasper surrounded me with. Well, used to surround me with.

The sour thought sends another all-too-familiar painful zap through my chest.

As soon as Bella pulls into her drive, I hop out and climb into my own as she runs inside, probably to tell her dad about the absolutely massive wolves lurking in Forks’ woods.

Wolves that might’ve just saved our lives.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#redamancy series #bless-my-demons #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale #female reader insert

[munson-blurbs]

Hurt People

This is just me giving an accurate depiction of what would most likely happen if Eddie Munson was real and went to high school with me. I’m sad tonight.

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, insults, bullying

WC: 718

—

You don’t know how you didn’t see it coming. Maybe it’s because he’s Eddie, the boy—young man, really—thrust into the fringes of society because of his affinity for metal music and fantasy games. Maybe it’s because you’d assumed outcasts, loners, losers, looked out for one another. Or maybe you were just delusional, rose-colored glasses shielding you from what you couldn’t, wouldn’t see.

You and Eddie don’t have any classes together, with you electing to take honors classes and him struggling with introductory courses. You’d never judged him for it, never thought less of him because of it; some people’s talents lay outside of academia. Rumor has it that he’s a decent guitar player, though your parents’ strict rules forbid you from checking out a gig. Truly, you don’t know much about him except that he’s on his third round of senior year and, in your opinion, is the cutest guy at Hawkins High.

The opportunity to befriend him presents itself in the unassuming form of Honor Society volunteer hours. Mrs. O’Donnell needs someone to tutor Eddie in chemistry so she can get him the hell out of her class, and you eagerly offer to be his teacher. Quiet afternoons together in the library might lead to secrets whispered, kisses shared…

The first tutoring session is…fine. Eddie’s completely disinterested in the material, which is to be expected. You keep drawing his attention back to the lab report he’s supposed to be writing, trying to maintain your composure as your patience wears thin.

When he’s barely accomplished anything at the end of the hour, you tell him to meet you back in the study room tomorrow after school.

“You need to hand this in on time,” you say softly but firmly. “Don’t wanna lose points for late work.”

He grumbles as he grabs his tin lunchbox and carelessly shoves the lab report into his backpack, not even saying goodbye.

The next day, you muster up the courage to approach his lunch table. You’ve got your old chemistry study guides clenched in your fists; the idea is to offer them to him so he doesn’t have to reference his own scribbled notes for his upcoming quiz. Just a casual, “hey, I figured you could use these.” Yeah, that could work.

You’re ten feet away when you hear his boisterous laugh. “Oh, and get this,” he’s saying to his friends, “she wants me to study again with her today! Like yesterday wasn’t bad enough.”

“Dude,” one of his buddies chuckles, sympathetically shaking his head and clapping his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “it’s just your luck that the one girl crushing on you happens to be the ugliest girl in the school.”

Your blood runs cold, nerves buzzing in anticipation of Eddie’s response. Surely he’ll tell the guy that he’s gone too far, that poking fun at your appearance is uncalled for.

But Eddie just gives him the finger and replies, “tell me about it. And now I gotta sit there while she makes heart-eyes at me, unless I wanna face O’Donnell’s wrath. Again.”

Tell me about it. Tell me about it. Tell me about it.

There’s no defending you, no sense of irritation with his friend’s statement. It’s pure, unfiltered agreement.

You’re the ugliest girl in school, and even Eddie Munson thinks so.

Tears blur your vision as you make a beeline out of the cafeteria, dumping your papers in the nearest trash can. You’re sorry you wasted your precious time digging them up. Humiliation seeps into your skin. It doesn’t matter if no one else heard him, because you did. And the information isn’t novel to you—you’re not Chrissy Cunningham or Nancy Wheeler, not by a longshot. No, you’re embarrassed because you’d deluded yourself into thinking that Eddie could see you in a way that others didn’t, in a way that you simply couldn’t.

A large part of you hoped that Eddie would see your status as a fellow freak and applaud you for it, welcome you into his group, take you under his wing. That seems like a pipe dream now.

It’s like that old cliche: hurt people hurt people. Maybe if you were bravier—bitchier, even—you’d hurt him back. But for now, you’re too tired from dragging around the burden of your existence.

Hurt will have to wait another day.

—

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #angst #hurt/no comfort #eddie munson x reader

[the-amazing-simp]

Laurie’s Beloved | T.L.

📝 Title: Laurie’s Beloved

📚 Requested: Yes/No

✍ Summary: After losing a bet to Jo, Laurie has to write a letter to you. But what happens when you find the letter and think it’s for someone else? | 1.3k

“Jo, please I’ll do anything else.” Laurie begged as Jo held a triumphant smile.

“Rules are rules, Teddy. This is what you agreed to.” Jo reminded him.

“Please Jo, have mercy on me.” He pleaded, giving the girl a look.

Jo shook her head, “Nope.”

“Now what’s all this fuss about?” Meg asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Teddy won’t keep his part of the bet.” Jo said.

“Meg you have to help me!” Laurie said, walking to the eldest March sister.

Meg raised a questioning brow, “What’s his part of the bet?”

Jo smiled, knowing she had found an ally, “Since he lost the bet he has to write a love letter to his dear Y/N. Only now, he refuses to.”

A small smile reached Meg’s lips, “Well Laurie, a deal’s a deal.”

Laurie glared at the both of them, “You’ve got to be joking! I swear all of you are teamed up on this.”

—

It took him a week to finish the letter. Not because he found it hard to pour out his feelings for you. But because he wanted to find the right, the perfect words to express just how much he loves you and how much you mean the world to him.

“Happy now?” He asked, handing the fresh letter to a beaming Jo.

“A bit.” She cooed as she read the letter upon Laurie’s request to improve anything that would embarrass him - especially grammatical and spelling errors.

“What do you think?” Laurie asked nervously as the silence grew, “Is it bad?”

Jo shook her head, giving him a smile, “Surprisingly, it’s rather wonderful. Did you have some kind of poet write this?”

He furrowed his brows, “No. I wrote that myself.”

“Hm.” Jo hummed, giving the letter another look through, “There’s only one thing missing then.”

“What’s that?” Laurie asked.

Jo’s smile seemed almost wicked, “To give it to her.”

Once she had uttered this words, she stood up and dashed in the direction of your house.

Fear started to run through Laurie’s veins as he chased after Jo.

But, Jo was faster than him and arrived at your door within minutes.

She quickly rapped a knock on your door, clutching the letter behind her back while Laurie stood by the side, horrified.

Just as his luck was getting worse, you were the one who opened the door.

“Hello Jo.” You smiled, “What brings you here?”

“Meg just wanted to make sure that you’ll make it to tea this weekend.” Jo returned the smile.

You nodded, “Tell her I would never miss it for the world.”

“I definitely will.” Jo said.

“How about you Laurie? What brings you here?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe.

The heat immediately rose up to the boy’s cheeks, being winter - it would’ve made sense. But the snow wasn’t what caused it.

It was you.

“Uh, n-nothing.” He managed not to trip over his words, “I just accompanied Jo.”

Jo chuckled, “Definitely true. Anyway, we’ll be going now Y/N/N. See you on the weekend.”

You nodded, lips still holding that wonderful smile that managed to make Laurie weak in the knees.

Once the two of them were far enough from your house, Laurie frowned at a laughing Jo.

“You do not have a right to give me a heart attack like that.” He deadpanned.

Jo made a face at him before handing back the letter, “She deserves to know how you feel. But, mark my words Teddy, if I do get tired of your pining, then I’m really giving it to her myself.”

Laurie rolled his eyes at her, “Fine.”

—

“Damn it.” Laurie cursed under his breath as the two of you made your way to the lake, since it had been frozen over it would be a great day to go skating.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“I forgot my gloves in the study.” He said.

You gave him a smile, “I’ll go get it. It’s on your desk right?” 

He nodded, “You’re an angel, you know that.”

“I know.” You called out, walking back to his house.

Making your way up to his study, you immediately spotted his gloves on the desk. Picking it up, you were about to get back to him when you noticed a folded piece of paper on the side.

You didn’t mean to be a snoop, but Jo had always said that you were sometimes too curious for your own good.

Looking around to find the study empty, you picked up the paper and unfolded it as your eyes started to scan over the words written in Laurie’s handwriting.

To my beloved,

I don’t know how the poets do it. But I find it hard to find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Because you’re perfect. Therefore, I want to make this letter as perfect as you. 

I have loved you ever since I’ve know you. I couldn’t possibly imagine a life where I’ve not known you.

As cliche as it is, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to my life. 

You always occupy my mind. Your laugh, your smile, your twinkling eyes that give the stars a challenge. Not to mention how kind and sweet you are to everyone that comes your way.

If you don’t return my feelings, that’s okay. I won’t hold that against you because as much as I love you - I also cherish our friendship. I’d rather remain friends than lose you all together.

But if you share them, know that I’ll always do everything in my power to make you happy.

All my love, 

Laurie. 

How you wish that you were the one the letter was addressed to. But you knew deep in your heart that Laurie would never love you back as much more than a friend. The letter was obviously addressed to-

“Hey! What’s taking you so long?” A familiar voice echoed from the hallway, “Did some kind of desk monsters get to yo-“

Laurie stopped in his tracks once he entered the study, walking in on the sight of you with his letter in hand.

“Did you read it?” He asked, bracing himself for rejection.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “When do you plan to give it to her?”

Laurie furrowed his brows, “To who?”

“Jo. Obviously.” You answered.

His confusion deepened, “Why would I write a letter to Jo?”

“Oh I don’t know.” You said sarcastically, “Maybe for the same reason you wrote the letter for her in the first place.”

“Now that’s just unfair.” Laurie argued.

“What is?” You asked with a scoff.

“That you’re accusing me of writing the letter to Jo without giving me the chance to explain myself.” He said.

“That’s not unfair Laurie!” You countered, “You know what is? It’s the fact that I’ve loved you my whole life and I’d just be content to stand aside and watch you fall in love with my best friend because I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

Laurie stood there, jaw slacked as if he couldn’t believe what he just heard, “You love me?”

“Yes Laurie.” You said, finally putting down the damned letter, “Practically my whole life.”

He was silent for a moment, “What makes you think that the letter is for Jo?”

You scoffed, “The way you look at her Laurie. The fact that you’re always with her. Even a blind person can see just how in love you are.”

Laurie shook his head in protest, “But Y/N/N, the letter isn’t for Jo. It’s for you.”

It was your turn to be confused, “What?”

He walked toward you, tapping the topmost part of the letter, “I called you my beloved because I remember when you would tell me about the romance novels you would read and how you would swoon when someone calls their love interest ‘beloved’.”

You giggled, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

Laurie smiled, “I remember everything about you.”

He then brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Since you do return my feelings. Can I kiss you?”

“I would certainly leave you freeze if you don’t.” You smiled.

tagging:

@magicchai, @mendesxruel

#laurie x you #laurie x reader #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence #theodore laurie laurence #laurie little women #theodore laurence x reader #theodore laurence #little women x reader #little women 2019 #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet one shot #timothy laurence #timothee chalamet fanfiction

[trulybetty]

17 x roses | joel x reader

prompt: roses pairing: joel miller x f!reader word count: 888 notes: fluff, no outbreak, no y/n, no reader description, reader has a kid summary: I don't know? You help Joel choose flowers not expecting to run into him again.

x. masterlist

Joel looked around at the vast selection of flowers and it wasn't difficult for him to get overwhelmed with the choice in front of him. He was grateful he’d skipped on the florist down the street because if the grocery store was giving him this much of an issue, he couldn’t imagine what that experience would be like.

Before he could debate on the merits of calling Tommy for advice he heard someone clear their throat behind him, “Excuse me, if I could.”

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” he apologized profusely stepping out of your way.

You were there, trying to reach for a bouquet of tulips that were just a bit too high for comfort. Noticing your struggle, Joel's initial embarrassment from blocking the aisle quickly transformed into a helpful gesture. “Let me get that for you,” he offered, retrieving the bouquet with ease.

“Thanks,” you replied once the bouquet was stashed safely in your cart.

You were about to turn away and carry on with your grocery shop when you noticed the look of confusion on his face as he turned back to surveying the buckets of flowers.

“Can I offer some help in return?” you smiled as Joel’s head whipped to look at you, the look of desperation on his face wasn’t missed.

“Could you?” he laughed, relief on his face, “I have no clue.”

“Well,” you started, taking a step closer to the sea of flowers, “you really can't go wrong with roses. They're classic for a reason.”

Joel looked at the roses, then at you, a spark of interest lighting up his eyes. “I guess you can't argue with classics,” he conceded, “thank you.” the half smile he gave you made you weak at the knees but before anything could happen your phone rang and you groaned when you saw who it was calling.

“Best of luck,” you wished him as you held your phone up in show of your reason for leaving as you hurriedly walked away with your cart.

“Momma!” came a cry from the crowd of kindergartners and it didn’t take long to spot your daughter furiously pushing her hair out of her face, out of the neat braid you’d put it in that morning.

“Ellie!” you called out as she barrelled into your legs, “slow down love.” 

“You’re here!”

You nodded, with work it was hard to do the school runs, you were thankful for those in your life who could help you juggle work life and parenthood.

“I am,” you reassured her, smoothing back a few stray hairs from her forehead. “Did you have a good day?”

Ellie's face lit up, and she tugged at your hand, eager to show you something. “I made something for you!”

“There!” Ellie pointed to a valentine made with an assortment of flowers. The same ones parents had been asked to bring in the day before. 

You remembered the phone call you'd received while in the grocery store, initially thinking it was a reminder about the flowers, only to find out about Ellie's getting into a fight with another child. In defence of another kid, but a fight nonetheless and you’d thought she’d miss out on the holiday festivities. Luckily you’d been able to smooth things over with the principal.

You were about to compliment Ellie on her art when you heard her name being shouted from the other side of the room.

Turning around you saw a bright-eyed kindergartener dragging her parent by the arm towards you and Ellie and looking up you were met with the same eyes from the grocery store the other day.

“Hello again,” you said with a smile meeting Joel’s eyes.

“Hi, I’m Sarah!” she introduced herself breathlessly, barely pausing for a breath before Joel could open his mouth in response, “Dad, this is Ellie, she's the one who told Jackson to leave me alone.”

Ellie, with her characteristic indifference, shrugged nonchalantly. “No big deal, he wasn’t being nice.”

You were about to chime in with caution on getting into playground fights again when Sarah’s father extended his hand to you.

“I don’t think we’ve seen you around here before. I’m Sarah’s dad, Joel Miller,” he said, his voice warm. The half-smile that accompanied his introduction was disarmingly charming, and you found yourself momentarily lost for words.

“I er, um.. I work downtown and usually my parents or my sister-in-law help with drop off and pick up.”

Before the conversation could meander further, Joel glanced at his watch, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Shoot, we've got to get moving. Dinner with Sarah's grandma tonight,” he explained, his tone apologetic.

The mention of leaving seemed to remind Joel of something, and he swiftly fished out a business card from his wallet, handing it to you. ‘Miller Contracting,’ it read. “If you ever need anything, or, uh, maybe we could set up a playdate for the kids? Grab a coffee while they play?” His suggestion was casual, but the hopeful undertone was unmistakable.

You nodded, “I think they’d like that,” but your smile told him that you would very much enjoy it also.

As they prepared to leave, Joel's voice carried back to you, “Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine's!” he called over his shoulder, his smile broadening into a wide grin that had your heart skipping a beat.

#x29 valentines #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[spigobath]

alright now to complete the albatrio. when i think of Chip, i think of fear.

I think of it as digging deep in him, a constant haunt to his life. I think he tries to act like he's strong to cover up the fact that he is scared. He is so scared of being forgotten, of being nothing, of not being enough- But most of all, Chip is afraid of loss. He would look at the black sea and feel an echo of his nightmares, see flashes of losing everything he had gotten. Chip was loved, finally, and he was something, finally, and then it all was gone.

I wonder if he ever thinks about that first ship. The big chipper. I wonder if he mourns it. I wonder if he was such a bastard to test Jay and Gill. I wonder if he was so scared he would be left again, that he would be hurt again, that he lashed out. I wonder if he never fully trusted them in the beginning, either. I wonder if he looked at Jay, and saw Price. Saw her manipulation, and was waiting to run the moment she revealed her true colors. I wonder if he looked at Gillion, and felt scared that he was next to someone so clearly important to someone, and was scared of his own hands hurting that.

I wonder if Chip intentionally pushed them away because he was both afraid of being hurt and of hurting other people. Maybe, in his haunted mind, he remembers that monster in the black sea, or the man he killed, or every other misfortune act of his life.

Imagine how he felt when he saw Lizzie again, just to realize he didn't truly know her anymore. That despite gaining and gaining he still lost. Imagine when he saw Rufus, and could only grieve the fact that he was young and stupid and never appreciate the time on the Midnight Rose. I wonder how he felt when Jay shot Gill. I wonder if he thought he was finally losing the two people he was finally reluctantly trusting. I wonder if he blames himself for what happened to that girl during the murder mystery. I wonder if everywhere he goes, he only feels the lingering feeling of loss.

Remember the fae wild arc?? He lost so much. He lost Gillion completely. And he almost quit after that. Because he has bonded so close to his crew, he loves them so much because if Chip isn't afraid then he is so caring. He loved them so much, that he would rather leave. I have a piece of dialogue saved from that actually

Gillion: Scared of what?

Chip: Of exactly what happened. Gill I handed you that card, and we lost you and I- And it's not the first time- And it won't be the last I- I'm bad luck. I'm a bad pirate, l'm a bad hero. I'm just bad.

Anyways I could talk so much about his fear. Where Jay is guilt and grief, Gill is trust and maybe some retribution, and Chip is love and fear. Where he loves, he is afraid, and when he fears he loves.

I think that's why it's so impactful that he lost his heart. The symbolism of love, his love which was so resilient, stolen. He LOST his heart, and in turn he started losing who he was. Everything he was afraid of happened in that sea.

#jrwiblr #jrwi show #jrwi riptide #jrwi chip #jrwi jay #jay ferin #jrwi gillion #gillion tidestrider #little chip for thought #i kinda struggled with finding words to describe his character #he just doesnt come easy to me?? #doesnt resonate like jay ferin does #hope i did him justice #jrwi spoilers #SPOILERS #ummm feel free to ask me anything. about any of the characters #riptide. pd. bitb. suckening. apotheosis. ive seen it all guys

[rendy-a]

Luck of the Draw

@writingforatwistedworld

An author I read recently expressed interest in reading what others would write about her Self-Aware TWST AU. This is a fan piece I've written for that AU. Check out more of their Masterlist here!

AU summary: When downloading TWST, an error occurs resulting in the game using data from your phone to fill in blanks in the TWST program.  As a result, all the Self-Aware TWST cast view you as the mythical Overseer of legend and develop a yandere level obsession with you.

I was in the middle of painting the roses but…I guess I can’t turn you away if you need something.  You frowned slightly at the line.  When your friend told you about Twisted Wonderland, you had dismissed it as another phone game in the sea of phone games.  Your friend was so persistent though, that you eventually let them talk you into it.  When you agreed to download the game, your friend had nearly vibrated with joy and immediately gone into advisor mode; telling you tips and handing out suggestions for when you started the game.  “You know, everyone has a Riddle or Leona card to borrow.  If you think about it, Trey is the smart choice for those defense tests.”  So, when the time came for your free SSR roll, you had taken their advice and re-rolled for Trey.

You know it’s only a game but occasionally you feel like you’ve made the wrong choice.  Sometimes when you logged into the game, you enjoyed seeing Trey all dressed up in the bright Heartslabuyl uniform.  Only, then he’d say his voice line and it had a way of rubbing you the wrong way.  He was just so…pushy.  Tea Parties and croquet matches are both special, traditional events in Heartslabyul.  As the vice dorm leader, I have to work hard for them.  So, give me some praise, ok?  You scoff and say lightly, “Great job Trey.  Those roses sure are extra red today.”  Maybe it is your imagination, but it feels like he smiles even brighter when you say that.

Then there are times where the mood feels terribly awkward.  You’d only agreed to try this game because your friend insisted that it wasn’t a dating game but when Trey offers you certain greetings…it makes you so uncomfortable.  I like hats, so I have several of them.  This one is a special one I had custom made to match our dorm uniform.  I’d be happy to have one made for you so we can match.  You offer what feels like a forced chuckle to the screen, “Maybe next time.”  It felt an awful lot like turning down a classmate you had no romantic interest in but still had to see at school.

You mentioned it to your friend and they laugh.  “You must be talking about Malleus.  Everyone says his lines feel borderline romantic.”  When you clarified that you meant Trey, they gave you a weird look.  “I don’t remember anything like that…”  You opened the game and tried to show your friend but the lines you could trigger seemed far more mundane than what you’d been experiencing.  You clicked back and forth from lessons to home several times to try to trigger one of the strange dialogs but to no avail.  It was just eerie.

The next day, you decided to keep a notepad and pen by your bed, so you could write down some of the crazy things you hear from Trey when you log in.  And, come morning, he does not disappoint.  There's nothing better than wearing clothes you are comfortable in.  Except maybe having friends that make you comfortable.  If your friends are making you uncomfortable, you can always come to me instead.  This one was new, even to you.  You gave your device a raised eyebrow and jot down the line.  Then you drag your phone with you to the bathroom (lessons can run while you do your morning routine!) and start brushing your teeth.  You almost spit out your toothpaste on the floor when your random gacha draw pulled a Dorm Leona card.  You thank the gacha gods; now you can swap out your home screen character without feeling disloyal to your SSR’s.

You talked with your friend at school and they seemed extra freaked out for you but, honestly, you feel much better.  You’d just push your strange Trey card to the back of your roster and never think about his creepy voice lines again.  Leona was a fresh breeze of air pushing the past few weeks of troubles from your mind.  You logged in far more than usual today, just to hear his new lines.  Before bed, you pressed your lips to your screen, wishing your new favorite a good night.  Things were so much better with your new man in your life and Trey was just like a bad memory.

The morning was not what you expected.  You opened the game to find Trey back on your home screen.  You looked at it in alarm as he greets you with a stern look.  You are coming to our next Unbirthday Party.  I’ll be waiting to hear what you think of my preparations for you.  It feels almost sinister.  You move to stand from your bed but find yourself unexplainably weak.  You tumble to the floor, your head resting near your phone.  The last thing you see is the ever-widening smile of Trey.  “I’ll see you soon, dearest Overseer.”

#self aware au #yandere twst #trey clover #yandere trey clover #twst