#but he tells ned he likes the burn

[deadsetobsessions]

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

#tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #Peter Parker #I think you know who his mom is #nightwing #batman #red robin #Frank the Crime Alley kid #Tim Drake #Tw: mentions of torture #Tw: human experimentation #bruce wayne #dick Grayson #gotham #Tw: mentions of human trafficking #Catalina Marie Flores #tarantula #Spider in Gotham AU

[sixstepsaway]

so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

#ofmd critical #i hate that i'm using this tag now :c #edward teach #ed teach #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #i guess #izzy hands #stede bonnet

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

chapter three: you and me would be a big conversation

series masterlist

The next few weeks of your relationship involved a lot of sneaking around.

You didn’t want your reputation to get any worse than it already was and being seen with a guy was definitely not going to do you any favors. To avoid the public scrutiny for at least a little while, you kept your dates to places far from campus or Peters favorite, his dorm room.

“I’m knocking on the door.” Ned said loudly from the other side of the door as he knocked repeatedly. Peter stopped kissing you and picked his head up to look at the door.

“We can hear you, Ned.” He sighed as you slid out from under him to sit up on the bed.

“I am opening the door.” Ned announced and then proceeded to fumbled with his room key for the next few minutes as you and Peter sat in silence.

“We know.” You said through a laugh. Ned finally got the door open but had both hands over his eyes and his room key in his mouth.

“Is everyone decent?” Ned asked.

“Yes.” Peter groaned. “Take your hands away from your eyes.”

Ned slowly lowered his hands and sighed in relief when he saw that everyone was fully clothed. You waved at Ned and he smiled as if just realizing you were in the room.

“Hello Y/n.” He said politely.

“Hi Ned. How was Spanish?” You asked him.

“Muy bueno. Gracias. How was fornicating with my childhood best friend?” Ned asked casually.

“What’s fornicating?” You asked Peter as he burned bright red.

“It means sex. And that’s not what was happening.” Peter said and gave Ned a look that told him to stop.

“Oh, really? Tell that to the hickie on your neck.” Ned snorted. Peter covered his forming hickie and looked at you sheepishly.

“Sorry.” You laughed shyly. “I’m a biter.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ned said as he plopped down at his desk. Your smile immediately dropped and Peter was quick to notice.

“I should go.” You faked a smile and hoped off Peters bed.

“Way to go, Ned.” Peter whispered harshly as you left the room. Peter followed you down the hallway and tugged you by the back of your shirt.

“Wait up.” He said as you turned around. You smiled tightly and folded your arms before looking at him.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry about him. He didn’t mean that maliciously. He’s just a little dumb.” Peter explained.

“It’s okay. Everyone says it. Why can’t he?” You shrugged it off but Peter could tell you were still upset. He pulled you in and hugged you as he pressed a few kisses to the side of your head.

“I wish we had more privacy. Not that it isn’t exciting to make out until we heard the dulcent sounds of Ned fumbling for his room key.” Peter joked. You smiled as an idea came to you and pulled away from Peter a little to look at him.

“I want to take you somewhere tonight.”

“Oh?” Peter raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Do you have swim trunks?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Meet me at the old brick building at 7. Don’t be late.” You booped his nose and started to walk away.

“What are we doing?” He called after you.

“You’ll see!” You called back.

At 6:51 that night, Peter stood outside the brick building in his swim trucks and a T shirt. He was freezing since it was mid November now but his anticipation kept him warm. You came around the building in an oversized shirt and smiled when you saw Peter.

“You’re early.” You grinned and hugged him.

“So are you.”

“I am. We’re so alike.”

“We’re nothing alike.” Peter laughed as he rubbed his hand up and down on your back.

“Oh, right. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.” You shrugged and pulled him inside the building. You took the elevator to the basement and led Peter by the hand to an indoor pool. Moonlight was spilling in through tiny windows all along the walls, making the pool light up a pretty shade of aquamarine.

“Woah!” Peter gasped. “This school has a pool?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you see this on your tour?” You asked as you pulled off your t shirt.

“I never toured. They were the only other school to give me full ride so this is where I came.”

“Remind me to show you around. After we go for a swim.” You chuckled and jumped into the water. Peter pulled his shirt off but stood nervously at the edge of the pool.

“Come in! It’s not cold.” You said as you emerged from the water. Peter took a deep breath and jumped in, immediately feeling the chill.

“That’s really cold. You liar!” Peter said through chattering teeth.

“I know. I just wanted you in.” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him into a long kiss that warmed Peter right up.

“Ignore my blue lips, please.” He said once he pulled away.

“It’s okay. You’ll warm up soon. Especially if you keep close to me.” You smirked and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I can do that.” He replied and wrapped his arms around you. You floated around the pool for a while and engaged in a race or two. After a while, Peter noticed a pensive look on your face and swam over to you.

“What’s on your mind?” He wondered.

“I have to admit something.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh? Spill.”

“When we first started hanging out, I was worried you only liked me because you heard I was easy.” You admitted with a certain sadness in your eyes. Peter made a face that you were crazy which made you feel better.

“No. I had no idea. I just thought you were nice. That’s why I liked you.” He told you.

“It’s been a really long time since someone has called me “nice”.” You smiled and didn’t realize how much it would mean to you to be called something other than a slut.

“You are nice. The people on campus don’t you. But I do.” Peter assured you.

“I know you do. It feels good to be known for me and not for some stupid rumors that people made up.” You told him. You stared at each for a moment of quiet understanding. Neither of you had felt truly seen by another person until meeting the other.

“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you.” You said quietly.

“I feel that way too.” Peter smiled softly and pulled you through the water to hold you.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You said before pulling him into a kiss. Peter wrapped one arm around your waist and used his free hand to wrap your legs around him. He then slipped his hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. He didn’t know where this confidence was coming but he was going with it.

“Wait.” You said suddenly and pushed him back.

“Sorry. I’m moving too fast.” Peter apologized and put his hands behind his head to keep them off you.

“No, it’s not that. I just think if we get caught making out in this pool we’re not supposed to be in then you’d probably lose your scholarship.” You laughed, making Peter relax.

“Right.” He smiled. “Because I’m poor and smart.”

“We should probably go.” You said and pointed to the ladder to get out.

“Oh. Yeah.” Peter agreed and tried to hide his disappointment that the night was over.

“Together, though.” You added, drawing a smile out of Peter. You dried off with the towels in the locker room before throwing your clothes back on. Once you were dressed, you brought Peter back to your dorm room.

“My roommate went home for the weekend.” You told him as you flipped the light switch on. Peter had never been in your room before so he took his time looking around at all the little things you used to decorate. He noticed your posters and pictures of your friends from high school taped up above your stuffed animals.

“Woah. I’ve never been in the girls dorm before.” Peter smiled as he picked up a plush dog off your bed.

“It’s not that exciting.” You chuckled and snatched the dog from him.

“I promise, I feel very excited right now.” He replied as he sat down on your bed. Girls rooms always smelled so much better than boys and he could sniff out the faint smell of peppermint in the air. You smirked at him and opened the mini fridge to take out a can of ginger ale. You poured it into two little cups and handed him one.

“Clink, clink.” You said and hit your cup against his. In the lighting of your room, Peter was finally able to notice that you weren’t wearing any makeup from the trip to the pool.

“You look pretty with no makeup.” Peter said as it was his first time seeing you undone like this. You laughed as if that was ridiculous and covered your face a little with your hand, which Peter then moved. You looked at him and stopped trying to hide as you no longer felt you had to.

“So do you.” You gently teased him as you leaned in. Peter put his cup down on a nearby dresser and used his recently freed hand to pull you into his lap. He slid his hands up and down your back as you tangled your fingers in his chlorine dampened curls. Something gave you the nerve to push him back into your bed and you both fell back without breaking the kiss. Peter kept his hands in a respectful placement on your hips like the gentleman he was. You pulled away only to catch your breath but ended up getting distracted by Peters pretty face. You traced your fingernail in circles on his cheek and felt him blush under your touch.

“I got pool water on your pillow.” Peter said in a soft voice. You smiled and leaned down to rub your nose against his.

“It’s okay. I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“I can wash them for you if you want so that you don’t have to sleep on dirty sheets.” Peter offered, giving you an idea.

“I mean, if they’re already dirty, we might as well put them to go use.” You said and leaned down to kiss him again. This kiss was slower and sent butterflies flying into your stomach. Peter picked up on what you were trying to say and felt excitement building up inside him in anticipation of your first time together. You’d never gone further than making out and he was eager to take your relationship to the next level. You could feel Peter pushing your hips down into him and quickly pulled away.

“Sorry.” You said at the same time. Peter could sense you were hesitant to continue so he propped himself up on his elbows to give you some space. You sat up in your elbows as well and gave him a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated. “I know I’m the one that started that but I think I changed my mind. I don’t know if I’m ready to go all the way yet. I’m sorry if I lead you on.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Peter assured you. “You can change your mind anytime you want at any moment you need to. And I don’t know if I was ready for it either. I just got excited.”

“No, I was too. I just don’t want us to move too fast if that’s okay? I don’t want to mess things up by rushing into anything because I really like you and I want us to last.”

“Of course that’s okay. You can always tell me what pace you feel comfortable with. And I really like you too. We can take our time together, okay?” Peter smiled softly at you as he took your hand. You looked at your intertwined hands and realized this was the first time you felt completely safe around a boy.

“You know, Peter, in a world of boys, you really are a gentleman.” You said through a tired laugh.

“Can you tell that to my aunt when you meet her? Because she’s convinced I’m a delinquent since I stopped wearing a belt.”

“I’ll tell her.” You laughed and laid down on your bed. Peter laid beside you and rested his head on your heart. You immediately tangled your hands on his hair and played with it the way he liked.

“She’ll like you. I know she will. I gotta get my two girls together one day.” Peter said in a soft voice.

“I hope she likes me. You were primarily raised by her, right?”

“For the last few years, yeah. She’s the best.”

“I bet she it.” You replied. “It would explain why you turned out the way you did.”

“What do you mean?”’ Peter chuckled and looked up at you.

“I mean you’re so sensitive and caring of others around you. I mean, look at us. You met me on your first day here and decided to tutor me just because you saw a stranger was struggling. And I see the way you take care of Ned. Remember that night he was homesick so you made us all watch that weird movie with the sexy horse from when you guys were kids?”

“Hey, Spirit is not a weird movie.” Peter playfully defended. “It’s an underrated classic with a phenomenal soundtrack.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” You chuckled. “All I’m saying is, she raised you right. In a world of boys, you’re a gentleman.”

“I try to be. You deserve a gentleman.” He said and picked his head up to stare at you. You smiled softly and brushed his hair off his forehead before taking his chin and brining his face closer to kiss him.

“Thanks for being gentle with me.” You whispered.

Peter returned the smiled and kissed you again before resting his head back down on your chest. You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then turned off the lights.

Tag List 💋

@breadglasses @hollandweather @cashtons-wife @scenesofobx @trumanbluee

@classygladiatortidalwave @miwagila @sarcasm-and-stiles @hitoshislut @misspascalpunk

@buckylovinglokivariant @betzabobababi

@eterjas @pleasingregulus @avatarjuno @dreamingofts18 @diorrgrl @anarchistsons

@crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @erule @justsomebodyweird @un06 @tom-hollands-wifey

@bellajg21 @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer

@ferrjulie @kitykatnumber @angelayse @cleosertoriooc @iamdedsthingz

@girls-and-guts @tomshufflepuff @lovely-blackinnon @matchafrappeidm

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kneelforloki @xorderedkaosx @dory-98 @okayiamkassandra

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker college au #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

[webslingingslasher]

HI BESTIE idk if this ask went through but! grumpy x sunshine trope/i hate everyone but you trope with peter and reader? like sweet boy peter with an absolute menace of a gf whos only soft for him <3

ok so i imagine this in a few different ways. 

the first way is the ‘touch him or hurt him and i’ll kill you’ way

“Don’t fucking talk to him that way!” 

You barked orders at Flash so harshly he winced and turned his eyes to the table, he couldn’t look at your direct stare of a thousand burning fires. Your voice was sharp like a whip and curled around his throat, it even made Ned and MJ look down, afraid to add fuel. 

Turning your head back to Peter you soften your eyes and coo at him, you bring your hand to his shoulder and squeeze, it makes him look at you. He wears a soft grin, it tells you that he’s just fine, you want confirmation. 

“Are you okay, honey?” 

Peter places his hand on yours, “I’m okay, I don’t think Flash meant much harm.” 

“Didn’t know you had a guard dog, penis.�� Flash’s words are mumbled but you seeth, no one was allowed to talk about Peter that way. 

Your hand comes down on the table, Ned jumps but stays quiet as you hiss words out at him. 

“The only dog here is you, don’t demean my boyfriend you fucking piece of -” 

Peter’s hand pulls at your elbow, his best attempt at stopping you but MJ called your name out cutting you off, Ned flickered between you and Flash, if looks could kill he’d be dead. 

“Flash is an idiot, don’t waste your breath.” 

Flash whines at the comment but resides when you huff and agree, finding Peter’s hand to hold in your own. 

Peter leans in to whisper in your ear, warmth coats your cheek when his lips brush against your earlobe, “easy killer, you don’t need his mom suing you for emotional distress.” You pout at his words and move to whisper in his, peter’s thumb swipes at the back of your hand, “but he was mean to you.” 

You lean into Peter when he presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips move against the skin. 

“He was, wasn’t he?” 

—-------------------------------------------

the second kind has gotta be when you’re upset but only peter can calm you down

May was in a panic, you were standing in the middle of her living room with your arms wrapped around you crying. She’s never seen you so upset, you’ve always been cool calm and collected around her, imagine her surprise when she opened the door to your shaky knocks and sobs. 

“Oh, honey!” Her hand reaches out to grab at your shoulder, you move to dodge her touch. It wasn’t anything to do with May but there was only one person who could calm you down right now and it wasn’t May. 

You feel a prickle at her frown, “I need peter.” You speak between shaky breaths, concentration on getting your words out, May looks real sad, “he’s not here right now, honey. Come in, I’ll give him a call.” 

You don’t even feel your legs move, they carry you to a stop in the middle of the room, you can’t even get to the couch. They feel like lead, you hold yourself steady, it took almost everything in you to come to peter and he wasn’t even here, instead you have May’s sad eyes and you’re not sure to open up to her yet. 

“Peter? I need you to come home right now, yes, everything’s okay, just as soon as you can, okay?” 

May knows you heard her, but you still blankly cry and stare at the floor, shaky breaths escape quickly. You jump when May’s hand grazes your elbow, “sweetheart, please come take a seat.” She knows you’re not too fond on touch, or attention from her, and she knows she can be a bit overboard with it, but this was one of those times she couldn’t rein it in and she needed you to feel her love. 

You nod, and even lean into her hold when she pushes you to the couch. It makes May’s heart soares, she doesn’t take the moment for granted and settles you before rushing to get you water. You sniffle and wipe tears, you appreciate May but she’s not who you need. 

Within minutes the front door swings open, May gives him wide eyes, she’s sitting on the coffee table in front of you, you keep your eyes on your shoes, you punish yourself for not taking them off, you know May hates that. 

“May! What’s- Baby?” 

Peter’s eyes hit his aunts the second he sails through the door until his attention is called to the back of your head on the couch, then he gets a sinking feeling in his chest. May’s eyes give him a sense of urgency, he rounds the couch and feels like his hearts been punched when he sees you’ve been crying. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Your lower lip wobbles, you were feeling better, May had been gentle enough the initial upset went away but having your comfort person look at you with sad caring eyes it made all the pain and hurt flood back, fat tears drop and May flys up to move Peter in, she hides in the kitchen. 

“Hey, hey, hey, stop crying, I’m here.” Peter sits in the space next to you and wraps his arms around you, his love swallows you and makes you find comfort in his chest. 

—---------------------------

but yeah, i see so many ways this fitting cause this is the mcu peter/mj trope and i love it so much 

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker mcu #my writing

[bucknastysbabe]

criston cole in a greens win au really is the kingmaker if he’s cucking aegon. slapped a crown on the king and now he’s making bastard kids to go on the throne. u go king.

Now I must write a blurb hnghhhh cuckingggg this is prob ass bc I’m sick rotting in bed with flubonic plague but OH WELL

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Dayne!reader, greens win AU, Criston is dark and manipulative, Aegon sad sacking around the place, cukolding, exhibitionism, breeding kink, crispy creme pie, infidelity, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), pnv!sex, no beta I die like Ned stark, jealousy, one-sided-ish

Taglist: @starogeorgina @moncherri @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii

Do Your Job - C.Cole

Criston stopped caring long ago, pulling himself out of the layered filth of blood, gore, and dirt. Bodies of his men. The butcher’s ball they called it. Criston made sure that the Winter’s Wolves, Benjicot Blackwood, and Roddy the Ruin got a nice death by dragon. After some torture.

He saw through with that, as the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Criston had to attend to such matters. Such as what to do with Rhaenyra’s last child. Or the fucking mess that was Aegon. Aemond was still lurking around Harrenhal— said to return when his child was born. Aegon meanwhile, made Criston’s blood boil. Alicent was a maddened gnat in his ear.

Aegon had been recently remarried to a Dayne of Starfall, seeking out the ashen hair and Valyrian eyes of the Dornish house. She was gorgeous, eager to please, and could suck Criston’s prick under his desk for hours. The adorable queen had trouble with Aegon— considering the man was a bag of shattered bones and burns. The maesters had been attending to the two’s fertility plan.

She was not hard to woo, seeking Cole’s comforts as Aegon still wanted to hoard playthings and whores, uncaring much of his wife at the moment. He bedded her regularly— but they had to be careful with his bad leg and hip. Criston’s little star, beautiful as one, was the shiniest thing in the dreary keep by far. But horribly lonely, so he’d been keeping an eye, asking the Queen to help him with letters and tasks of the realm.

It wasn’t long before she was in his lap crying about how terrible the Red Keep was. Criston had his proverbial claws sunk deep into her by then. He meant his words of praise, how special his star was, and meant doubly on how much he too hated the Keep. Criston’s fingers crawled up her dress as he cooed, bringing the girl to likely her first orgasm since arriving.

They sat together in the Hand’s foyer, Ser Cole writing a letter to some raucous lordling. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back, dark eyes meeting a strange indigo of sorts. “Have there been any advancements with the maesters and your womb?” She shook her head, blush dusting her cheeks.

“Go on, what’s the issue my star?”

She leaned over the table to grip his hands, pleading in her body language. “Do not grow wroth when I tell you this okay?” Criston nodded, there was no chance he would not be pissed. Just a feeling. The Dayne sighed, “He’s impotent but he swears it’s me, I don’t know, they’ve started transferring his, seed, into me. By now I’m not sure, he berates me about it.” Criston’s eyes narrowed and she squeaked.

The smaller figure was picked up by him, striding to the King’s chambers. Where Aegon was like to be making two court favorites defile themselves. The queen begged, “My lord, please, I know you feel strongly for me but-“

He growled, “No!,” then softer, “No. He’s being a fool, a lady’s desire should help the process. I’ll oversee you two. We need heirs to the throne.”

He kicked open the door, startling a half-awake Aegon. Criston gently laid the Queen on the bed then turned to a glaring Targaryen. Aegon’s burnt face twisted in annoyance, slightly slurring, “The hell is going on here Cole?” A goblet of wine sat in front of him— of course he was drinking.

Criston folded his arms. “You’re drunk right now? It’s barely even past midday.”

“Sorry, one tends to get bored when his wife would rather cavort around with the Hand,” he acridly spat back.

She protested from behind, “Alright, I can stay around, it’s fine!”

Criston eyed his star and back to Aegon. He asked “You have a beauty like that and can’t fill her belly with seed? You have the maesters stuff her like a turkey instead? Pathetic.”

Aegon’s form shook with rage, reaching for his crutch, Criston swiftly kicking it out of the way with a clatter. Aegon barked, “I’m your goddamn king, bring that back now! Maybe she’s the one barren, dirtied by lowborn seed!”

That little fucker! Criston’s eye twitched. He had not put his cock into her sacred place but now? Someone had to do the job— and it would be him. The taller brunette forced Aegon’s chair closer to the bed, the king hissing in pain, violet eyes wide. Cole chastised, “Since you’re so smart, I’ll do a little test, see if my lowborn cock has sullied her womb.” Aegon’s soft face pulled into a frown, squirming in position.

Criston began to pull at his gauntlets in quick snaps, then the bracers, and the chest plate along with the heavy shoulders. He decided to keep his chain of hands on as an ego boost. Lowborn cock raised to the second highest position in the realm, doing the highest position’s job.

Dayne stared at him, eyes flicking to the strangely silent Aegon, then back. Criston smiled at the queen, winding a tan hand into her ashen locks. He murmured, “Don’t worry dearest, we’ll have you feeling wonderful in no time, right your Grace?” Aegon remained stone cold— lips pouting.

The hand began to ease off the simple Dornish layers of her dress, baring that gorgeous body. How could she not be fertile? His star was all curves and soft skin, she would be great as a mother. Criston told her that, earning a whine, her legs wrapped around his waist. He panted to the king, “First, they need to be actually attracted to you.”

Cole pressed lush kisses to her neck and shoulders, his big hand testing the waters between her thighs. She was a little wet, not yet how he could get the Dayne, sopping. He rasped just for her ears, “Relax for me, he’s so jealous you might get an obedient king. Gorgeous star doesn’t know her own wiles.” She writhed a bit, tits pressed tight against flat chest.

“Oh, oh, there my Lord,” the blonde panted.

Criston was pumping one finger into her velvet heat, sliding in a second one to crook upwards. His thumb swirled around her swollen bud. He laughed carelessly at Aegon, whose scarred hands dug into the sides of his chair, puffy lips open. The brunette snarked, “See how easy it is not to be a selfish prick? It’s quite rewarding to make your lady come— although I think she’s already too attached to me.”

The king whined softly.

The queen moaned louder, crying Criston’s name and wetting his fingers further. The knight pulled from her full tits, purposely working her cunt over while asking. “Doesn’t that feel good little star? Don’t you wish your King would take care of you like that?” The queen gasped and mewled, cheeks a deep flush, eyes guiltily looking over at the squirming Aegon.

Criston patted her cheek, pressing a kiss over plump lips. Inky eyes and smug lips turned again to talk down to the Targaryen. He added in a dark voice, “Obviously you can’t do the fucking job so I will until you get it up and pump her with a blonde one. Although I am quite attached myself, she’s a wonderful little star. I’m going to fuck her good and thorough. Our first time too.”

Aegon whined, begging, “Ser, stop, I didn’t know, don’t!” But his hard cock was pulsing and the king had made no attempt to call for help. He couldn’t move either, the crutch out of his grasp. Aegon watched Criston work his wife into a peak, her pretty breasts heaving, thighs twitching. Utterly gorgeous. Jealousy swelled within his burnt chest.

The Dayne beauty sloppily mouthed against Criston’s mouth, trailing down to press kisses against his lower belly, grabbing his cock before asking. “You want to impregnate me sir? Give me an heir?” She could almost explode at the thought. Criston nodded, eyes hazy as her plump lips enveloped his cock, hands expert on rolling his balls and the other working in tandem with that warm mouth.

Aegon made a gutted noise.

Criston groaned deeply, watching his length disappear down velvet throat. The queen kept her indigo eyes on him, teary and wide. Fucking beautiful. He swallowed down a weak noise and rasped to Aegon, “She’s quite good at this, willing to please and eager to learn your Grace. But there you are, quickly back to your old ways.” She shuddered at the praise, Criston easing his star off so the real fun could begin.

He murmured, “On your back sweetling.” He pecked her once, shivering at the taste of him. The queen laid on her back, instinctively tucking a pillow under her hips. Criston rumbled, playfully giving her ass a smack. “Good girl, mmm, you just want to be a mama hm?” The shared noises of Aegon and his Queen made the Knight laugh.

He eased himself on top, making sure her thick thighs spread around his waist. The knight laid forward, grinning and nuzzling her nervous face. He cooed, “You’re safe with me star, pretty baby, doing so good.” Her arms slunk around his shoulders, their bodies fitting with together as Criston eased himself into her slick, swollen folds.

Fuck, she was tight and pulsing already, inner walls aiming to milk the man. Lady Dayne cried out, busty tits heaving as she was filled up by Ser Criston’s heavy cock. It was foreign, having so much care put into her pleasure. She moaned in surprise when he bottomed out, rasping nonsense against her neck.

Aegon sniveled now, watching his Queen get something he couldn’t possibly provide. Ser Criston, the crafty fucker, already worked his magic and cock into his queen. The blonde regretted many an action against his wonderful wife— seeing how she mooned over fucking Cole. Cole; a common born conniving oathbreaking madman, he truly enjoyed seeing suffering and agony. But there he was, giggling and gently fucking Aegon’s queen, the picture of chivalry. He needed more wine, and to tug his miserable cock.

Criston hiked her legs up, the back of her knees in the crooks of his arms— a mating press. She cried out, little hands scrabbling at his shoulders, eyes getting teary with pleasure. He moaned low, forcefully fucking himself inside her tight cunt, making sure she could feel every little drag and thrust. She mewled in ecstasy, “Criston, Ser, breed me, breed me please! Ohh I want it, need it!”

He grinned at Aegon’s sobs and pulling of his own prick. Criston teased “You want my seed star? Want to be all pretty and round, knowing your Lord Hand made you swell? Tits and hips so ripe for me, such a pretty mother you’ll make.” She tightened around him, arching her back, practically drooling. He focused on fucking her deep, swiping his thumb around her button, earning the cutest little mewls.

“Yes! Gods yes! Criston,” she howled, clamping down on his prick. He pressed his lips to hers, grunting as he fucked her to the point of no return. He cooed at his cute little star crying out her peak, gushing all over his still-moving cock. She weeped, “Please, give me your seed, want to be a mama, please!” Cole couldn’t deny her request, groaning long and low as his tummy tightened, emptying pump after pump of his cum into her tight pussy. He bit his lip bloody in the process, feeling feral, but the knight wouldn’t tear her skin like that.

He let go of her legs, gently holding her canted hips, humming, “How long do they say wait Aeg?”

A sharp cry, gasp, and tortured, “15 minutes.”

The Dayne didn’t even seem to be worried about her broken husband, smiling and holding Criston’s big hands. She kissed at each knuckle, eyes full of adoration and love. How they should be. How he deserved all along. What a special little star.

The first two came out with brown hair and eyes, sending a familiar shock across the keep. Then the third had ashen hair, just like the Queen. Mayhaps the Targaryen gene wasn’t that strong within Aegon, people whispered. Criston would smile, not indulging a secret. He’d rub her pretty bump alone, let Aegon play the daddy. He did alright enough.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #one sided feelings #aegon ii targaryen #ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #Criston cole x reader #Ser criston cole imagine

[olsenmyolsen]

This Is Me Trying - Two - (A Y/N Parker Spider-Woman X Kate Bishop Story)

masterlist

Summary: The Hawkeyes and you seem to be on the same track...

Word Count: 3.5K

Content: College stress, Flirty Kate Bishop, Clint being a dad

"Kate Bishop! Your crush! Asked you that!? No way!" Ned, of course, couldn't believe it. But this was the same man who didn't realize he was going out with Betty Brant for two weeks

"What did you say after she asked?" MJ questioned when she looked up from behind her laptop on the couch.

"I said, "yeah!" and "that's awesome." Was that good?"

MJ shook her head. "Truly a wordsmith." Sarcastic as ever. MJ went back to her screen to basically ignore you and Ned.

"Well, anyways, congrats," Ned said, getting up from the dining room table where his and Peter's LEGO Death Star was kept. Why was it in your dorm and not there's you had no idea. But MJ helped from time to time, so you figured it was okay.

Ned and you walked into your room and closed the door.

"You know it's a good thing everyone knows you're gay, or else the amount of time we go to your room alone would be suspicious." You froze and thought about Ned's words. "Yeah, I guess... I wonder what MJ thinks we do?"

"I think Peter said we watch movies that she'd disapprove of."

That made sense. "Hmm, alright." You walked over to your bed and flopped onto it while you waited for Ned to do what he needed to do.

3...2...1. "Okay, got it." He said as your fingers formed into a 0. "Alright, what am I looking at?" Ned had pulled up security footage from a traffic light from three weeks ago.

"Okay, this was when that building on 10th in Hell's Kitchen burned down." Ned played the video, and it showed a group of guys in Tracksuits fleeing from the building as they piled into a black SUV moments prior to the building going up.

"Okay. So the Tracksuits are back.." You thought out loud as Ned moved his cursor to another video.

"This was from last week on 3rd in Harlem." The video played and was almost identical to the third one. Except the SUV and the plates on the car were different.

You stood in thought as the last video started. "This was last night."

You recognized the building immediately as you remember zipping past it last night. Just like the other two videos, it played out the same. When the video stopped, Ned looked at you.

"Okay, so as bad as their fashion choice is, they're not idiots. They have different cars and plates every time. Their faces are covered, and let me guess, if we follow the cars light by light, they end up at a chop shop?"

Ned nodded.

"So... it's gotta be the buildings." Ned tilted his head. "What do you mean? It's not the chop shops?" You shook your head. "Chop shops are easy to bust. It's like they want you to follow them there. The buildings. The ones they burn. That's the real money."

Ned looked from you to the screen.

"So you think these tracksuit guys are burning the buildings for insurance money?" You shook your head and entered your closet to change into your Spidey Suit.

Just because you're gay doesn't mean you want guy your friend Ned to see you.

"No, I think someone is hiring these guys to do it." You huffed as you remembered who had the tracksuit mafia in his pocket last time.

Wilson Fisk. The Kingpin.

He was a roach you could never squash just right.

If he owned the buildings, that means there was a lot more at play.

"Okay." You stepped out of the closet and quickly scarfed down a leftover slice of pizza Ned had. "Do you think you could find out who owns these buildings?" Ned nodded. "It's probably a bunch of shell companies, but I can do my best." You patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man." You hurried across your room and grabbed your mask.

"Oh, and when Peter comes over, could you maybe not tell him I went patrolling? Tell him I overheard something on the radio." Ned gave a flat smile.

Lying was not his strong suit.

"If you do, I'll-"

"Hey, Y/N, are you still in there?" You gave a panicked look to Ned before putting on your mask and twhiping away before MJ wildly opened the door.

She looked from the open window to Ned.

"Where's Y/N?"

"Uhhh..." Ned was really bad at lying. "She left..ago- a while ago!" He was in trouble. "Yeah?" MJ crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "How come I didn't see her leave?"

Ned's brain scrambled.

"Blindness?" Ned said, making MJ stand up straighter. "I turn a blind eye to many things, Ned, but this won't be one of them." She uncrossed her arms and stretched her arm out to grab the door handle to the room. "By the way, nice camera footage, totally not suspicious at all." She thinned her eyes and hummed as she closed the door.

After swinging for what felt like a good enough distance away from campus, you stood on the roof of an old pizzeria.

Your phone chimed, and you had a text from Ned. "Did my best. Sorry. 😭😭😭"

You laughed and reassured him that he wouldn't be fired from his guy-in-the-chair duties.

"Keep me posted on the buildings." You sent your final text and put your phone away.

You then stared out into the boro you find yourself in. In the distance, you can see what remains of a shootout you helped rescue people from two months ago. You think about a girl you saved who said she wanted to be like you when she grew up.

Your heart warmed, and you told her to stay in school and that she'd be better than you.

Which was looking more and more accurate by the day as you leaped off the pizzeria, ignoring a text from your brother about the essay you still needed to do.

At the same time, Kate Bishop entered her dorm room, walking past her blonde roommate and fast friend Cassie Lang at her desk before Kate collapsed facedown onto her bed.

"What's wrong?" The slightly shorter of the two, Cassie, turned around and asked. "Tired." Kate's muffled voice spoke.

"How late were you out last night?" Cassie asked as she stood up, approaching her friend's bed. "Past 3," Kate said, making Cassie go wide-eyed. "Kate Bishop! The rule was 2:30 at the latest!"

Kate rolled over and lifted herself up. "I'm sorry." She pouted at her friend, who instantly pulled her into a comforting hug that turned into Kate leaning on Cassie's shoulder. "What else is wrong?" Cassie asked as she saw how exhausted Kate looked.

"Nothing," Kate said, but Cassie wasn't so sure. "Are you doing some overthinking?" Kate froze eventually before nodding. "What about?"

"Clint and the Tracksuits."

Kate spoke freely about her other life to Cassie.

Kate used to tell people openly about how she was working with an Avenger, but after what happened with her mom and Kingpin last year, she toned it down.

Now, the only people who know are Cassie, Pizza Dog, and a rouge assassin for hire. Plus, Clint and his family.

Cassie only found out when she woke up in the middle of the night to see Kate in her Hawkeye outfit on the floor.

Kate tripped, falling through the window, and busted her chin.

Kate wanted to tell more people like you. But as previously mentioned. She liked you and didn't want you to get hurt because of her.

So, she kept her Hawkeye circle small.

However, Kate couldn't get the idea out of her head... what if she told you?

"Kate?" Cassie poked the forehead of her dorm mate. "Where'd you go?" She asked.

Kate sat up and cracked her neck, ignoring the question. Cassie noticed as she raised her eyebrows and returned to her desk. Choosing schoolwork, Chemistry in particular, over prying answers from Kate.

"Do you think I should tell Y/N?" Kate spoke up and waited for Cassie to turn around. But she didn't.

"Cass?" Kate asked as she stepped off her bed and walked next to her friend. "Cass?" She asked again before realizing Cassie had put in her AirPods.

Cassie turned to her left and jumped, startled, before pulling them out. "Oh shit. What's up?!" Kate opened her mouth. "I..- nothing. I just was going to tell you that I.. wanted to.."

She couldn't do it.

"I wanted to invite Y/N to my archery practice!" Kate put on a smile and watched her friend's face light up.

"Oh my God, I love that! Please do it! Ugh, she's so pretty!" Cassie was happy for her friend finally doing something about her crush. "She is," Kate replied with a blush. "Think she'll show?" Kate then asked.

"Why wouldn't she?" Cassie tilted her head, entirely focused on the conversation.

Cassie and you had hung out briefly when your friend group and Kate's got together, but she has never witnessed how your superhero life affects you.

Kate shrugs. "Lately, Y/N has been... flaky isn't the right word.. but not here? I guess? She's always tired too. She bails on plans with her and Peter sometimes."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"I've seen it at the library. Their study block is next to mine." Cassie nodded. "Plus, MJ's told me."

"Michelle Jones?" Cassie questions, making Kate nod. "She's roommates with Y/N, right?" Kate nods again. "Well, what does she think." Kate folds her lips into her mouth and raises her eyebrows.

"She thinks Y/N is The Spider."

Cassie's mouth drops before forming into a smile of laughter. "What?!" Kate nods with her own smile. "It's true. She's convinced."

Cassie laughs, making Kate giggle. "She took pictures of The Spider over a summer once. That doesn't mean she's THE Spider." Kate nodded as her smile naturally faded. "That would be funny," Kate said, making Cassie laugh again.

"Well, good luck with having your crush at practice tomorrow." Kate waved Cassie off as she went to the bathroom to shower and change. "Going out?" Cassie yelled through the closed bathroom door.

"Not till later. Why?" Kate replied as she took her top off. Her eyes finding a yellow bruise on her chest. "Looks like it's gonna snow."

And snow it did.

It started to come down after you stopped an armed robbery. Armed being used lightly as the men committing the crime were carrying toy guns.

Plus, the bank they chose to hit was a block down from a police station.

So, as you swung back up onto a nearby roof, snow hit your mask. You smiled and lifted up the mask to expose your mouth and nose. You inhaled and exhaled, watching your breath hang in the air.

The snow touched your face and melted against your warm pink cheeks.

It was cool and calming.

A few seconds of much-needed peace.

"I love snow." You whispered to yourself as the wind blew, making you shiver, but you remained now sitting on the roof with your smiling face to the darkened sky.

After enough time, you pulled out your phone.

"I should see if anyone needs any help." But before you could check the Friendly Neighborhood Spidey App, you were receiving a call from an unknown number.

"Ew, who calls anyone after 7?"

You weighed the options of answering it due to your fear of talking on the phone, but after three rings, you caved. "Hello?"

"Yes, hello, I'm calling for a Y/N Parker." The male voice on the other end sounded familiar.

"This is she." You said, standing up. "Ah, Y/N! Nice to put a voice to a list of your academic achievements." The male chuckled. "This is Dr. Otto Octavius." You physically stopped pacing and smiled. Holy crap! You were speaking to THE Dr. Octavius!

"Dr. Octavius! Hello! Wow, I can't believe you called. I take it Dr. Connors passed along... well, my life." You sent a small laugh Otto's way. "He did." He replied with a smile. "And I must say he was right; you're a bright student, Y/N."

You made a "yeah!" gesture with your arm.

"But-" Oh no! "I agree with Connors when he says you've been struggling. I can see just by looking at your grades and past reports that you're lazy. Brilliant but lazy."

"I- I'm trying to do better." You paved around the empty rooftop. "I've just had a lot of personal stuff happening lately."

The other side of the line went quiet.

"Parker, intelligence is not a privilege. It's a gift."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, butDr. Octavius stopped you. Do you think you'll be free after the holidays?" You perked up at that and stood on your tiptoes.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

"Uh yes- yes sir! You'll have my undivided attention!"

Dr. Octavius hummed.

"On the second Monday after the new year, I'd like to speak with you face to face. From there, we can see how we'll proceed with one another. That's about a month away, Parker. That should give you time to get your other affairs in order."

You nodded your head. "Yes, sir. Thank you!"

"I'll email you the information and where to meet me two weeks from now. Happy Holidays."

The line went dead, and you cheered. You just got an interview with Dr. Otto Octavius. He called you lazy, but he also said you were brilliant!

You put your phone away and jumped off the roof of the building with an aloud cheer that you were certain people did not appreciate.

Meanwhile, Kate was unlocking the door to her aunt's place to meet up with Clint. What she wasn't expecting was for Clint to be there already.

"Trust me, I don't plan on missing two Christmas' in a row."

Clint was on the phone.

Kate quietly closed the door, dropped her bag, and quiver on the floor.

"Laura..." Clint sounded tired. "With Kingpin back, I'd feel awful if I left and something happened." Kate's lips formed into a flat line. "Yeah, no, she's great. Kicking ass on her own." Clint said and laughed when his wife replied back.

Kate tried to remain quiet, but a floorboard creaking under her left foot gave her away. Lucky's head shot up from Clint's lap, making the archer turn around. "Hey, babes, Hawkeye just arrived, so I gotta go. Yeah. Yeah. I'll be safe. Love you too."

Clint smiled before hanging up. "She says hi." Kate nodded and told Clint to tell Laura hi the next time they spoke.

Kate grabbed a spot on the loveseat next to the couch.

"I didn't hear you come in," Clint spoke up as he put his phone away. "Don't know if that's my old age or..." He tapped his ear. "Maybe I'm just getting better at sneaking around," Kate replied with a smile.

Clint nodded his head with a chuckle. Kate was saving him from embarrassment.

Clint was still struggling with his hearing loss.

"Yeah, well... maybe it's all three," Clint said as he looked away from Kate. His hand still petting the dog.

Something in the room always shifted when talks like these happened. It reminded the two archers that time and missions with one another were limited.

Clint couldn't do this forever.

He didn't want to do this forever. He had a family and a life outside of being Hawkeye.

But damn, if he wasn't going to miss someone, he considers family—an annoying girl who was somehow more skilled than him but clumsy as hell, Kate Bishop.

Clint kicked his tongue and scooted Lucky off his lap before getting up and grabbing a water from the ridge and a laptop from his bag. "While you were at school. I got a friend to do a little research."

Clint returned, sitting at the edge of the couch closest to Kate. He opened the laptop and clicked on a folder of files. Blueprints. Bank records. Phone calls and messages all popped up on the screen.

"A friend?" Kate asked with a knowing smirk.

Clint ignored her as he took a sip of water. Clicking on the map of the city. Certain buildings highlighted in red. Others in grey. "What am I looking at?"

"The red ones are the burned-down buildings." Kate took a look at the map again. "And the grey... Potential targets?" Clint nodded before clicking on another file. It was a picture taken by Clint last night. "This is a zoomed-in photo of the blueprint on the Tracksuits wall."

"Their next target?" Kate asked. "I think so. We find one of the grey buildings that matches this blueprint." He pointed to the screen. "We can stop them."

Stop them, hurt them, make them confess, give us the details and whereabouts of Wilson Fisk.

You know, that kind of stop them.

Kate looked at the screen again. She moved pieces of her hair behind her ears before leaning into the screen. "How do we know they'll target one of the grey ones?"

Clint moved the cursor on the screen and clicked on an open tab. Finical records. "The ones burned down and these ones." The ones highlighted grey. "Are all owned by different shell companies, but when you really start digging deep, you find that they all go to the same place. Red Lion National Bank."

"Kingpin," Kate said.

Clint nodded. "He owns them all."

"So what he uses these buildings as cash houses and then burns them down when they aren't needed?" Clint shrugged. "It's a working theory. I'm sure there's more involved than money." Kate agreed.

"This one looks like the blueprint. But... but so does this one." Kate said as she clicked between two different buildings.

"It's probably built by the same company that's why they're not so different." Clint thought. "We could go stake out one and see how much movement happens."

"Sounds good to me. Doesn't look that far away. I mean it's far but- you get what I mean." She flopped her hand at Clint.

He laughed.

"Alright well, let me go get changed and we'll be off." Clint stood up and clapped his hands. "Oh, I also already fed Lucky and took him out so no need to worry."

Pizza Dog perked his ears up.

"Awww did Uncle Clint already take care of you?" Kate turned on her baby voice as she leaned over to kiss and pet the dog. "You're such a good boy!" Lucky's tail started wagging. Clint playfully rolled his eyes as he walked to the bathroom.

As she waited Kate's mind started to wander.

"Alright, we just about ready?" Clint asked as he zipped up his vest and grabbed his bow. Kate stood up putting her phone into her pocket and nodded. "My stuff's by the door."

"Great." Clint and Kate made their way to the front door to finish gathering what they needed. "Oh, here." Clint tossed Kate a purple beanie.

She smiled and looked at Clint. "Occasion?"

"It's cold and snowing outside. Can't have you getting sick." Kate's heart warmed at that whether it was sarcastic or not. "Thanks. Where'd you get it?" She asked a she released her hair from its ponytail

"Stopped by my place in the city earlier. Found it in the closet."

What Clint failed to tell Kate is that the beanie wasn't store-bought.

It was handmade.

And before you ask. God, no Clint didn't spend hours crocheting a hat together.

Natasha Romanoff did.

"Looks better on you kid." Clint smiled as Kate dawned it with pride. "Hawkeye and Hawkeye. One with a beanie the other with a hearing aid!" Kate posed as if she was shooting an arrow and exaggerated her voice.

"Had to ruin it didn't you?" Clint teased as he opened the door.

"Bye, Lucky!" Clint waved to the dog before entering the hall. "Bye, Pizza Dog! Be good!" Kate flipped all but one light switched off and locked the door.

As the two archers made their trek to the location marked on Clint's phone he spoke up simply because he couldn't help himself.

"So... who were you texting earlier?"

Kate looked to her right confused. However, she knew what Clint was talking about. "Come on. Don't give me that look. I may be deaf at times but I'm never blind." Clint bumped into Kate as they kept waking. "Don't forget I'm also the father of a teenage daughter."

Kate had him there.

"A friend." She said. "Oh, a friend! Are they nice?" Kate nodded. "She's nice." Clint smiled. She. "Does she know about this?" Clint pointed to the arrows on Kate's back.

Kate shook her head. "She knows I do archery but that's it." Clint looked at Kate's side profile. "But you want to tell her?" Kate looked up. "How'd you know?"

Clint exhaled.

"Because Kate you like this friend of yours. You're young. Oh, and you're terrible at keeping secrets."

"Am not."

She was.

In Clint's eyes, it was a miracle the whole world didn't know the real identity of the "new" Hawkeye.

"Regardless, are you going to tell them?"

Kate shrugged. "I don't know."

Clint patted her shoulder. "That's alright." Kate smiled. "I invited her to my archery practice tomorrow and to study afterward. The text was about her coming over."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Oh well as long as you're safe."

Kate furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head. But before she could reply her phone buzzed.

It was a text from you.

"Sounds great! 🎯"

You smiled as you hit send.

Your fingers remained tightly gripped around your phone as you twhiped yourself through an alleyway.

You thought about double-texting Kate. Asking her how she was or what she was doing. Or why the sudden invite to her archery practice?

Was it just for fun? The want to hang out with you? Or did Kate truly just want to show off her toned arms and skills with a bow?

Could it be all of the above?

You closed out your messages app before you could accidentally send a double text and focused on your tingling.

#kate bishop imagine #kate bishop fic #kate bishop hawkeye #spider person #spider woman #spider-person #kate bishop x #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x y/n #spider person x kate bishop #soft kate bishop #deaf clint barton #clint barton #clint being a dad #hawkeye #female reader x hawkeye #spider-woman #spider - woman x kate bishop #purple beanie #natasha romanoff #this is me trying #olsenmyolsen

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (5)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, fluff, trauma, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She herself did not know what to think about what she had seen. On the one hand, she felt honoured, but on the other, she felt uncomfortable, as if he was showing her some unhealthy kind of attention in this way, which he was obviously ashamed of himself.

For a long time she tried to work out the reason why he didn't let women into his workshop, why he didn't want to cooperate with them. She thought maybe he was prejudiced, maybe he had a bad experience with them, maybe he had some kind of trauma.

She noticed that he kept a greater physical distance from her than he did from men, as if he wanted to make sure she wouldn't touch him even by accident, when at the same time he had no problem shaking Cregan's hand in greeting.

A strong feeling in the back of her mind accompanied her that there was something more behind it, and once she was left alone with Cregan she tried to gently explore the area.

"Why our professor doesn't want women in his workshop? He had that attitude even before he slapped that girl." She said uncertainly, standing next to him with her mug of hot tea, taking a break for a moment as she watched him work on the Apostle Peter's face.

She heard him sigh heavily and move restlessly, turning anxiously over his shoulder to make sure no one could hear them.

"He doesn't confide in me about this kind of things, but I suspect it's some kind of childhood trauma. He says it's about women being weepy and easily distracted, being too loud and frustrating him. But still his approach is very restrictive and, viewed from a gender equality approach, unfair. Nevertheless, I respect him as an artist and a professional and I think it would be better if we didn't talk about it." He said quickly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye with a look that told her she wasn't going to get anything more out of him.

She nodded and left, going back to cutting orange and yellow glasses for the golden background behind the Virgin Mary.

From the moment he caught her in his studio the situation between them had been tense, when he wanted to tell her something he sent Cregan to her. She knew he was angry with himself and with her and she couldn't understand what was going on.

She thought he didn't like her, so why had he painted her?

She wondered if maybe he had some issues with his sexuality, that maybe he was ashamed of his desires, the fact that he was attracted to female students and that was why he didn't want to accept them.

One day Ned ran into their workshop and, making sure that neither their professor nor Cregan were among them, approached them with his phone.

"Did you guys hear that? Holy shit. The girl our professor slapped reported Jason Lannister to the police with several other girls he molested. Listen to this:

For years I was controlled and manipulated by him, enervated by him and in love with him, believing that everything others said about him was lies, caused by jealousy or mental illness. Despite the fact that Professor Targaryen spent years trying to get Professor Lannister expelled from the university as soon as he perceived that he might be harassing his female students, the rector did not react, and I myself contributed to the destruction of his image. Incited by Professor Lannister, I went to him and told him many things for which I am ashamed. Professor Targaryen has recently apologised to me for his aggressive response he made at the time, and I want it to be clear that there is no longer any dispute between us, and I hope that if there is a court hearing, he will appear as one of the witnesses to testify and confirm about what we said.

He read aloud, and she swallowed with difficulty, feeling her heart pounding hard, analysing everything she had heard.

The professor had recently apologised to me for his aggressive response.

She felt a tightening in her stomach at the thought that he had done so after talking to her.

No.

Her words didn't matter to him.

She wanted to talk to him again, feeling uncomfortable, feeling that something had been left unsaid between them.

She didn't dare.

As their work leaned towards completion, and all the glass was slowly fitted into the lead surrounds and brought to its final shape, she watched with pride and joy as her project became a reality, even more beautiful than in her mind.

Her colleague, seeing Our Lady's face, approached her and asked her in a whisper if by chance she had her facial features.

"It just seems that way to you." She laughed nervously, feeling her heart pounding hard, looking at her figure and seeing her face painted so beautifully, melancholy and solemn, not knowing herself what she felt.

During one of the weekly meetings, their professor had announced that in a few days there would be an installation of stained glass windows in a church that was an hour from their town, and he and Cregan were to go there to supervise the work, so he was scheduling the tasks they were to do in his absence.

"I think, as always, it would be appropriate to take the author of the project to the montage so she can see the final result of her work." Said Cregan lightly, but swallowed loudly as soon as he saw his professor's deadly stare.

He sighed, clearly furious that he'd said that out loud, that he'd put him in a position where he couldn't say no, where they'd take any other student with them.

It ended up that the three of them were to drive there by his car and sleep in separate room hotels, staying there for three nights, as that was how long the whole montage was to take.

She was excited and terrified at the same time, happy to see her work in its finished, complete form. On the other hand, she dreaded being in private with them and thanked God that Cregan was going with them.

They had arranged to leave in the morning, having to meet outside the university by the professor's car, she could see from a distance they were smoking cigarettes waiting for her.

Although it was hot she dressed as she would for class, carrying a backpack with her belongings on her back. Her professor did not greet her but took it from her out of politeness, threw it in his boot and got behind the wheel, extinguishing his cigarette with his boot in the meantime.

They drove along the highway listening to the songs of the band Depeche Mode, which she was very fond of, her professor and Cregan talking among themselves about their other commissions they had to carry out and their deadlines for completing the work, pretending she wasn't there. She settled comfortably in the back seat, looking out of the window, trying simply not to exist.

When they arrived at the hotel they picked up their keys, their rooms were next to each other. They left their belongings and drove to the church to see how looked the windows where the stained glass was to be inserted, which were travelling properly secured with a separate truck.

She marvelled at the interior of the church and its décor and saw that her project would be behind the altar itself, towering over everything around it. She felt her cheeks turn red with happiness at the thought that in a few days, her own design, which she herself had put her hand to making, would shine in these quarters.

She swallowed loudly at the thought of seeing her face in the figure of the Virgin Mary and glanced involuntarily at her professor, who was looking ahead thoughtfully, depressed, sad.

She felt her heart squeeze, feeling that he was still fighting something, that something was poisoning him inside and not allowing him to breathe or function, hanging over him like black storm clouds.

She felt helpless knowing there was nothing she could do to help him.

When the work began they personally checked that everything had arrived whole and no glass had broken, after which the technicians moved on to removing the old windows.

With nothing else to do they went into the local shop to do some shopping, after which they all locked themselves in their rooms.

She thought hopefully and happily that it wasn't so bad, that thanks to Cregan the atmosphere was quite bearable and that she was actually glad she had come with them.

The night was exceptionally hot and she curled up on her bed, unable to sleep, wearing only a white t-shirt and blue tracksuit shorts. She sighed heavily, remembering that her room had a balcony, and got up, hoping it would be a little cooler outside.

She opened the door and frowned, immediately smelling the smoke. She leaned out and saw her professor's shocked face sitting in a wicker chair with his cigarette in hand. She stepped back immediately, confused, noticing that both her room and his had an exit to the same balcony.

She glanced down at herself and her bare legs and sighed softly, walking barefoot out onto the cold tiles, sitting down on the opposite side of the table in the other wicker chair and leaned back, looking at the buildings around them, feeling her heart pounding hard.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled quickly, but his voice stopped her.

"Stay. I'm finishing up anyway." He said lowly, and she swallowed quietly, not sure if she should do that.

She heard something rustle and slide towards her on the coffee table, out of the corner of her eye she noticed it was an open packet of cigarettes. She shook her head and he hummed under his breath, taking a drag on his half-burnt smoke, looking at her intensely.

They stared at each other like that and she felt something hanging in the air, that after she discovered he had sketched her there was a tension between them that she didn't know what to do about.

Nothing she wanted to say seemed right to her.

He let out a loud puff of smoke through his mouth without lowering his gaze, shaking the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray with a tap of his finger.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked coolly, lowly, but with some hint of amusement from which a shudder went through her. She swallowed loudly and looked at him again, tightening her hands on her knees.

"I'm not afraid. I just don't understand you, Professor." She said with some kind of weariness, lowering her gaze. She heard him chuckle under his breath at her words.

"And what is it you want to understand?" He asked defiantly, tauntingly, as if he wanted to provoke her, toying with what reaction he could get out of her. She looked at him furrowing her brow feeling her heart pounding hard.

"What has happened to you."

His pupil narrowed like that of an animal, she had the feeling his eyes had gone completely black. He took a drag on his almost-smoked cigarette, not taking his eyes off her, one dangerous, dark, the other one empty, dead.

"Careful now. You're treading on thin ice."

She felt the weight of this situation and their words on her shoulders, she felt like something was crushing her, she looked at him pleadingly feeling that this was her only chance, that some part of him wanted this, that's why he told her to stay.

"Please. Please, sir, let me understand." She whispered, feeling that she was breathing through her mouth, all tense, focused only on him, only on the expression on his face. He pressed the remnants of his cigarette to the ashtray extinguishing it, letting the smoke out through his nose.

"I was raped by a woman when I was 16."

She looked at him in disbelief, a powerful shudder went through her, her throat tightened, her eyebrows arched in pain. She felt her lower lip tremble as he continued to look at her with some kind of satisfaction in his eyes as he reached for another cigarette.

He slipped it into his mouth, reached for his lighter and after a moment the warm light of the flame enveloped his face, the cigarette hissed and smoke began to pour from it while he take a drag.

She didn't know what to answer, what to do, what was the right thing to say when someone confessed something like that to you, her heart was pounding like crazy. She felt like her body froze, she couldn't believe he had actually said that to her.

She couldn't look away from his face.

"It's a pity you can't see yourself. They should give a Nobel peace prize to every woman who looks at me like that when she learns about it." He said with malicious, cold irony, taking a drag again, more intensely this time, releasing the smoke through his mouth with a hiss of his tongue.

She felt tears involuntarily run down her face, one after another, she wiped them away, but they were followed by more.

He shook his head, sighing disapprovingly.

"Always this crying." He muttered dryly, shaking off the ash into the ashtray with an impatient gesture of his finger.

She got up and walked out, feeling she couldn't take it, closing the door behind her. She burst out sobbing as soon as she hugged her pillow, trying to stifle her sounds, humiliated, terrified and sad, feeling every possible emotion she could imagine towards him, shaking all over.

She shuddered when, a moment later, she heard a knock on the glass, she rose and turned, spotting the outline of his silhouette between the curtains of her window.

"Please, open. I'm sorry." He said loud enough for her to hear him, fatigue and pain in his voice.

She stood up slowly on trembling legs and opened her balcony door. He turned towards her as looked down at her, his lips pressed together.

She saw him swallow with difficulty, lowering his gaze, clearly wanting to say something. He finally let the air out with a loud sigh, as if he had made up his mind that he was giving up.

"I am not a good person. I do and say worse and worse things. I'm tired of myself and the people around me. I feel like I'm spiralling down and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't understand why you cared so much about me teaching you, but what I said just a moment ago was an expression of my pure cruelty." He said lowly, looking at her with some kind of helplessness.

She didn't know what to make of his words, she felt that somehow he was asking for her help by telling her all this, but she didn't know how to give it to him, what to do.

She swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze.

"I wanted to work with you because you are the best. Because you are to me the model of an artist, a hard-working man doing everything with care and attention to detail. I respect you very much in this regard, sir, and I try not to make you feel uncomfortable with me, although I am only now beginning to understand what this discomfort is caused by." She choked out with difficulty, feeling her heart pounding like mad at the idea that this was a conversation that could change everything between them.

He looked at her silently, sadness, fatigue, resignation in his gaze. She thought that in all these years he had not known rest, had not slept peacefully at night, eternally prepared to attack and to react.

She saw, surprised, feeling a squeeze in her heart, that his lower lip began to tremble involuntarily, his eyes glazed over with tears, his brow arched in pain.

He was vulnerable.

"Will you let me touch your cheek?" He whispered in a trembling voice.

She swallowed loudly, shocked, looking at him in disbelief, her face red and wet with tears, her heart pounding like mad.

Oh God.

What should she do?

Did she want it or not?

She nodded involuntarily, wanting to see what it would feel like, whether she would feel discomfort or repulsion, whether her body would automatically try to protect itself from something she didn't want.

She watched, breathing as loudly as he did, as he lifted his large, trembling hand and ran his fingertips over her skin, so gently, tenderly, respectfully, that she felt a tightness in her throat and warmth in her chest, for some reason she felt like crying again.

"You are so beautiful." He whispered in a pained, quivering, breaking voice and she realized that he felt something for her, that was why he had sketched her, why he had looked at her like that, why he now stood before her, heartbroken.

"You are beautiful too, sir." She whispered quietly what she really thought, simultaneously fearing and admiring him from afar, only now from close up could she appreciate the shape of his nose, the outline of his jaw, his full lips, his infinitely dark, mysterious gaze.

She heard him draw in a hard breath at her words, looking at her in pain, his hand stroking her cheek as if she were something precious, valuable.

Vulnerable.

She wanted to lift her hand, to touch him, to stroke him as he did her, but his other hand tightened quickly on her wrist, his breath wheezing in his throat, his eyes widening.

"No. Don't touch me." He said quickly, breathing hard. "Please."

She lowered her hand, looking at him horrified, only now seeing what it had done to him, her heart breaking at the thought of how much he must suffer every day.

"May I touch your hand?" She asked quietly.

He looked at her for a long moment in silence, fighting with himself. He swallowed hard and nodded uncertainly, watching her every move.

She took his free hand in hers, barely touching his fingers, leading him behind her to her room.

"I don't −" He started apprehensively, but she didn't let him finish.

"I know. That's not what I want either." She said quietly, sitting down on her bed, looking at him warmly and calmly, reaching out her hand to him.

"Turn your back to me." He commanded low, breathing heavily, and she swallowed hard.

She did as he asked, and laid on her side with her back to him, feeling her heart pounding as the place between her thighs clenched involuntarily in a feeling, that she knew too well.

She felt him lying a short distance beside her, his warm, uneven breath enveloping the skin of her naked neck, she was both terrified and aroused by what he wanted to do, what he really needed from her.

She knew he was looking at her.

She heard him lick his lips with a quiet click of saliva, his mouth dry with emotion.

She knew that something very crucial, very important was happening to him now, and that he didn't want to hurt her.

"Can I touch your hair?" He asked in a whisper, uncertainly, fearfully.

She swallowed loudly and nodded, tense.

She felt him place his large hand on her head after a moment, with slow, gentle movements of his fingers combing through her hair, repeating the same movement again and again.

She felt a pleasant tickle and heat in her heart at this innocent, tender gesture, and for some reason she felt tears under her eyelids.

Despite all the inappropriateness of what they were doing, she felt it was so innocent, so pure.

"Is it pleasant? Are you uncomfortable?" He asked quietly, as if he wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting her, that she wasn't just keeping quiet through fear of him or her own apprehension.

"No. It's very pleasant. I think I'll fall asleep if you don't stop, sir." She whispered softly and he hummed under his breath, the affectionate, soft movement of his fingers through her hair making a pleasant shiver run through her every time.

Neither he nor she moved, lying like that for a long minutes, listening to each other's breaths and the sounds of the street outside the window.

She could smell his intense, masculine perfume and aftershave, the gentle touch of his hand making her calm down at last, filled with some strange, warm feeling, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier.

She fell asleep.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #dark aemond smut #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #modern aemond angst #dark modern aemond #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #aemond targaryen angst #aemond angst #hotd angst #ewan mitchell angst #aemond kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff

[the-kr8tor]

Woven Wheel

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is taller than the reader, CW food, FLUFF.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6

You sit on Hobie's rickety chair, on your lap is his emerald bed sheet, your hands expertly stitch together the large hole on the side of the cloth. Eyes glued to what you're doing, you don't notice Hobie's piercing gaze.

He's crouched over to the other side of the room, fixing the wiring of his answering machine. Hobie watches your cherry earrings sway as you move your head to the side to inspect your handiwork. The bags under your eyes are more prominent than the last time he saw you. He sighs, fingers wrapping around the wiring of his answering machine.

Hobie should've been more persuasive at telling you to stay home and get some much needed rest. But you being you, you won the argument, telling him that it'll be your place too once you graduate so you should come over and help with the cleaning and fixing. With that you already won, but then you added the fact that he already used a ticket from your favour card. Rolling your eyes through the payphone's receiver as if he can see you, you tell him that you always keep to your word. He relents, the only thing he can do now is to make sure you don't get too tired, opting to give you the easiest job, even if he means he has to do more.

So here you are sitting in his sparse living room, mending his bedsheet, watching as James walks over to you. You smile politely to the blonde, making small talk.

"You're gonna burn a hole right through her" Ned appears out of nowhere, whispering right in Hobie's ear.

Hobie pushes him off, Ned cackles at his annoyed reaction. "Fucker"

"You look like a lovesick teen, just go fuckin' tell her, you idiot" Ned sits down to Hobie's level, whispering to him. "Seriously, go do it before someone else does" as Ned says this, you laugh at something James said, the blonde smiles sheepishly at you. "Also I need to see you two finally get together before I leave. I deserve that much after watching you two yearn for each other the entire time I've known you lot"

Hobie frowns at what Ned says, fingers twisting the wiring in his hands faster, he jumps when a sudden jolt of electricity shocks him, the wiring falling from his hand "Fuck!" He yells, holding and shaking his hands.

You perk up, attuned to his scream of pain, stopping mid conversation. "You okay, Hobs?" Handing the linen to James, speed walking the small distance towards Hobie's crouched form. "The hell did you do?" Crouching down, you hold his hands gingerly, massaging his calloused fingers. Probably the opposite of what you should do when somebody gets electrocuted.

"I'm okay, just a shock is all" Hobie stares at your hands gingerly holding his. You nod, still a little concerned.

Ned chuckles, Hobie stares daggers at his friend, shutting him up, a faint smirk staying on his lips. "Maybe you should let Yuri do that, she's good with that kind of stuff" Ned teases Hobie more.

"Let me do what?" Yuri enters the boat, a large box in her hands.

"I have it," Hobie grumbles.

You stand up, dropping Hobie's hands on his side, "oh, let me help you with that"

Ned stops you before you could get your hands over to the box. "Got it, y/n"

"I got it" Yuri lightly shoves Ned away, "I'm not a damsel in distress" she walks towards the pile of boxes on the side of the boat, dropping the large box next to the pile, "see, no sweat"

"When's lunch?" James pipes up, still holding Hobie's bedsheet.

"Mate, you barely did anything" Ned scrunches his nose, "you're right though, when's lunch, Hobie?"

You laugh, Yuri rolls her eyes, a ghost of a smile on her red lips.

"Bunch of leeches, the lot of you" he murmurs. Tapping you on your arm, "what do you want?" Hobie asks you.

"Pizza or fish and chips" Ned says before you could answer, a teasing smile on his lips.

"I asked her not you" Hobie huffs.

"I second that," James agrees, pointing at Ned.

"A coke too," Yuri adds.

"Christ" Hobie places his hands over his hips, "you good with either?" He turns his head towards you.

"A large coke for me, please" you add to the teasing.

"I expected better from you" Hobie narrows his eyes, you giggle at his expression.

—

The chair creaks from under you, finishing the last stitches on the bed sheet, you try to make conversation with Yuri. She sorts through the various boxes for some utensils to eat with. The men left a few minutes ago to buy lunch, leaving you and Yuri inside the Houseboat.

"So what are you gonna study?" You break the silence.

"Getting right to the point, huh?" Yuri teases but you take it too seriously, eyes widening, afraid that you might've offended her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean–"

"I was joking," Yuri stops her perusal of boxes, now looking straight at you with her piercing gaze, "you can ask" she chuckles, "seriously, don't apologize"

"Oh, okay, sorr–" Yuri raises a sharp brow, you backtrack, suddenly nervous from her stare, "right, so um, what are you gonna study?"

Yuri smiles, "Architecture, I know, it's a surprise, huh?" She gestures towards her dark clothes, combat boots and spiked denim jacket.

"Kind of? I mean look at me, do I look like a fashion student?" Gesturing towards your not so plain clothes, but still pretty tame from what you used to wear back in the day. You opted for a pair of bell bottomed jeans instead of your usual straight cut denim, your long sleeved blouse rustles slightly when a draft blows in. The detailed design of hummingbirds stitched on the collar of your shirt practically comes alive every time you turn your head. You're slowly trying to ease back to your usual self, following Danny's advice. And it actually works since you had a major breakthrough with your design a few nights ago. You're keeping it a secret, a little surprise for your model.

"You're a fashion student?!" She feigns surprise.

Chuckling, you see why her and Hobie are friends.

"I joke" Yuri winks, "I stopped tryin' to blend in a looong time ago" she crosses the small threshold, sitting in front of you on an equally rickety chair, "you look different, they stare, you look plain, they whisper. You can't bloody win. Might as well be myself out of spite, right?" she lifts her leg to cross it over the other. "Così va il mondo'' she sighs.

"Such is life" you translate, Yuri smirks, eyes twinkling.

"I see why Hobie likes you so much," she leans on the wooden table, elbows propped up, hand holding her chin. "You're not just pretty, but smart too, huh?"

Smiling genuinely at her, you take note of her freckles, dotting her face like stars, her septum piercing glinting in the low light of the lamp you've placed on the table.

The door to the houseboat swings open, the boys' bickering slices the silence inside the boat.

"Fuckin' told you to hold it on its side!" Hobie argues with James.

"I did! It slid down! I can't control gravity, Hobie!" James retaliates.

Ned enters the space first, he looks so out of it, face frowning, exasperated at his two companions. He holds a liter of coke in his hand, the other a plastic bag of something hot inside.

Yuri side eyes you, shaking her head at the men arguing, you chuckle. She stands up reluctantly, going towards the pile of boxes to take out the utensils.

You follow her lead, walking to meet halfway with the tired Ned. He hands you the bottle of coke.

"I feel like I've aged ten bloody years"

You chuckle, helping Ned place the food on the wobbly table.

"Wait, place it on the floor, that table's not stable enough" Hobie stops you, grabbing the soda bottle from your hands, he juggles it in between the paper bag he's carrying.

"I got it, Hobie" you take the bottle from his hand, " 's not that heavy, you're already carrying too much"

"Where do we eat then, doofus?" Yuri asks the question that's on everyone's mind, she holds plates of various sizes in her hands, mismatched spoons and forks placed on top of the ceramic, in her other hand are mugs, hanging precariously on her ring clad fingers.

"Well, idiot," Hobie retaliates, "the floor is your best friend" He sits down on the newly polished floor, the wood gleaming in all its glory. The paper bag almost spills over when he sits down, grabbing the top of the bag before the contents decorate the clean floors.

"The chips!" James dramatically yells.

"They're fine!" Hobie clicks his tongue, he taps the floor next to him. "Right here, y/n" he softened up when he said your name.

You don't waste a second to cross the space, dropping down next to him. You sit criss crossed, cradling the liter bottle like a baby.

"You need a dining table or at least a settee that doesn't give you tetanus when the spring pokes you" Ned unceremoniously sits down, adjacent to you, he yelps when hot oil singes his finger. "Where else are we gonna sit?" He licks the oil off his red fingertip.

"You gonna buy me one, Neddy?" Hobie gives you a box full of chips, you give him a small 'thank you'.

"I'll buy you one if you actually do what we discussed earlier" Ned replies. Hobie narrows his eyes, non-verbally telling him to shut up.

You look at Ned quizzically, he shrugs, handing everyone their share of fried fish. Your stomach grumbles at the sight. Everyone sits in a circle, the pizza box and soda lays in the middle of the group.

Yuri snorts, knowing what he meant. James opens the pizza box, the savory smell coating the small space. He quickly grabs a slice, gobbling it down.

"Bloody hell, use a plate at least. Were you raised in a barn?" Yuri grimaces, handing James a plate. He nods a thank you, mouth full of dough. "Here you go, love" she hands you a couple of plates and utensils.

"Thanks,Yuri" You hand the spare utensils to Hobie, Leaning forward to grab a slice.

"What's all this? You two best mates now?" Hobie asks, biting off a chip.

"You jealous? We're just lookin' out for each other. Ain't that right, sweets?" Yuri winks at you. You stop chewing for a hot second.

Ned guffaws while James laughs with a mouthful of cheese and sauce. Hobie rolls his eyes, handing you his makeshift glass so you could pour him a drink.

You pour him one while Hobie casually rolls your sleeves up to your elbows so you don't splash soda on it. The fizz rises up towards the edge of the mug. "It's not that cold anymore"

"I'll manage" Hobie thanks you by tapping his mug towards yours, it clinks when they meet.

"Best fish and chips in town, fuck I'm gonna miss this" Ned says.

"They have fish and chips in Richmond," Yuri scoffs, biting into the doughy pizza.

"I know they have fish and chips! But not this fish and chips" he shows his plate like a commercial, hand gesturing around his plate.

"They literally all taste the same" James quips, hand reaching for tissues.

"They would taste the same for you because you don't stop to actually taste it" Ned rebukes.

Their banter fades in the background as Hobie scooches next to you, legs kissing yours, "you want my slice?"

"Hmm? You don't like it?" You lean further into him, "is it the cheese?"

"Nah, I just don't like it" he leans towards you, further closing the already small distance, breath mixing in with yours. "It's too.." he tries to find the right word to describe it, "..gooey for me"

You snort at his choice of word "hehehe say it again"

"What's so funny about 'gooey'?"

"You saying 'gooey', big punk Hobie saying gooey is funny" you take the pizza from his plate, taking a bite from it. "Oh, you're right, it is gooey"

"Doughy, fuck that's the word I was looking for"

You giggle, "I think 'doughy' has the same effect as 'gooey'"

"You're very funny" Hobie stops for a second, unabashedly staring at your lips, he brings his thumb over to it, wiping at the corner of your mouth. You don't have time to react, freezing into place. "Sorry, you got sauce on it" he continues wiping, thumb grazing your lower lip. You stare at him, eyes wide, breath hitching in your throat. "Got it"

You clear your throat, "Thanks"

"Oi lovebirds!" Ned whistles to get your attention, Hobie glares at Ned.

"We're not dogs, what the hell do you want?"

"Pass me the hot sauce" Ned points at the packets near your crossed legs.

Hobie scoffs, tossing Ned the packets. It bounces off Ned's mug, almost falling inside his drink. Ned flips Hobie the bird as a thank you. Hobie lovingly answers the same.

The group munches on their food quietly for a few minutes, you relish in the peace. Until James burps. Yuri scrunches her nose, you hide your giggle with a bite of your lip.

"So, what are you planning on doing after you graduate?" Yuri bravely asks, her utensils clinking on the plate as she finishes eating.

"Getting right to the point, huh?" You tilt your head at Yuri, copying the words she uttered a few minutes ago.

Yuri smiles, "aye, you got me there"

Hobie watches the interaction, glad that you made friends with Yuri.

"Well there's this fashion house where an old friend of mine works at, that would be nice working with him. And it's right here in London so I don't have to go far" you wipe your fingers with a napkin.

"Think big, y/n! What's your ultimate goal?" Yuri pats your knee.

"She's right, go big or go home, eh?" Ned chides in.

"You guys are laying it on me, huh?" You shyly say.

"My da applied to the biggest radio station in London when he was younger, he never thought he'd even get accepted! Now look at him, the most famous radio host in the country!" James adds in the conversation.

"Wait, who's your dad?" Hobie asks.

"JJJ" James answers, huffing his chest in pride.

You all look at him surprised, Hobie slowly turns to look at you, mirroring the same expression.

"What the fuck? You're just gonna drop that insane lore just like that?" Ned looks at James, shocked.

"Yeah, and you know what?" James shifts in his seat, hand curling around his drink. "I'm not even gonna elaborate" he snickers, drinking loudly from his mug.

"I see the resemblance" you lean a bit to look at James closely.

"Yeah, just tape a mustache on him and he's a carbon copy" Hobie agrees.

"Let's shut the fuck up about him, yeah?" Yuri cuts in, James softly mumbles out a 'hey'. "You don't even want to tell us" Yuri points a finger in James' direction. "Let's go back to the topic at hand, y/n, what do you want to do after graduation?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Hobie places his chin on your shoulder, comforting you.

"Aye, you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable telling us. I mean I am asking what your hopes and dreams are. It's a tall order." Yuri tells you.

"It's fine, really" you smile bashfully, "I– there's a fashion house in Paris, that I've been dreaming of working at since I was a kid. I guess that's what I want to do after." You fiddle with your thumbs.

Hobie watches the twinkle in your eyes, he smiles sadly at the prospect of you moving so far away from him, but he can't help but feel proud. He sighs, avoiding looking at your face, instead he stares at your discarded plate.

"Now that's the answer I was lookin' for"

"Thought you wanted to model?" James asks, looking confused in your direction. You tilt your head to ask him what he meant. "You two did go to a runway show, I thought it's because you wanted to model or something"

"Oh, that was for research" you answer.

Ned snorts "can't imagine Hobie at a runway show, especially him walking down on it" Ned shields his face with his arms when Hobie throws him another packet of sauce, this time aiming right for his face. It bounces off harmlessly, Ned sticks his tongue out. Hobie mumbles out a 'child', glaring at his friend.

"Mate, show us your runway walk!" James stands up, posing exaggeratedly.

"You first" Hobie lifts his head off your shoulder.

"I asked you first!"

"You asked for jack shit, fuck off" Hobie says flatly. You laugh at them both.

"Yeah, Hobie he did ask you first" Yuri grabs her plate to put in the sink.

"Why don't you do it then?" Hobie raises a pierced brow.

"Sure, If everyone does it" she leans casually on the kitchen island, a towel over her shoulder. "What do you say? You up for a little modeling?" Yuri smirks at you.

"Uh, no thank you" you stand up grabbing yours and Hobie's plates.

"I'll do it, I've got the physic for it" Ned stands up, cleaning up his station. "Let's clean this up, so we have the space"

"Let's goooo!" James grabs his dirty plates, quickly putting it in the sink.

"I've never seen him clean that fast" Hobie whispers to you, taking the plates from your hands. You smile at him, crouching down to take the empty mugs from the floor.

Once the floor gets cleaned (again) James hypes himself up, getting ready to walk. You grab your digital camera from your bag. Maybe if you assign yourself as the photographer they wouldn't notice you not walking with them.

You don't know if it's the sugar high from the soda or James' instigation but whatever it is they all comply. Yuri has a rare grin on her face, Ned punches Hobie's arm while he laughs loudly. James jumps up and down excitedly.

Hobie chuckles when you show him the camera, "go get a good angle of me"

"That's going to be hard" you tease. Hobie elbows your side lightly. Walking to the front of the 'runway', you crouch down for the best angle to take their pictures.

"Alright James! Go" Ned pats James' back.

James walks dramatically, hips swaying from side to side. Once he reaches you, he pouts, exaggerated. Pointing at the camera.

The flash goes off, James nods appreciatively, walking back to the rest of the group. Ned is up next, walking casually. He flips the bird at the camera. You laugh loudly, music to Hobie's ears. He's glad their shenanigans are making you laugh.

Yuri walks like she owns the place, hand on her waist, striking a pose at the end. She pauses for a second so you could take her picture, Yuri throws you a 'rock on sign' with her hand, it shows clearly in the grainy screen. She walks back to the laughing group.

Yuri grabs Hobie's shoulders, shaking him. "Your turn, Hobart!" She chuckles deeply, pushing him towards the starting position, "you better strike a bloody pose or you'll have to do it again!" The other two laugh at Yuri's teasing.

Hobie huffs, walking normally towards you. The instigators yell at him to do it properly.

"Hobie, you fucker! That's not how a proper model walks!" Ned exclaims.

He stops in front of you, the flash goes off, as you laugh at the picture you've taken. Hobie lifts you easily by your arm. You stand up, grinning at him.

"What are you doing?" You say, chuckling.

"You think you could escape? You gotta walk with me" Hobie throws his arm around your shoulder, cackling loudly.

You try to wiggle out of his hold. "Nooo!" Your smile betrays you as you try to hopelessly push him away. Yuri takes the camera from your hand, angling it to take numerous pictures of you two.

You laugh loudly as Hobie imitates (as best as he could) how a model walks, with you in his arms. The flash goes off in tandem with your strides, making it look like you're on an actual runway.

"Love it!" James cheers you on.

"Work it!" Ned adds, clapping his hands.

You stop at the end, grinning from ear to ear. Yuri keeps taking pictures, you're sure it's gonna run out of space soon enough, but it's well worth it. Hobie bends at his waist, grabbing the back of your knees, his other hand slides to your back, looping his arm across it, pulling you to his chest, lifting you off the ground. You yelp, quickly looping your arms to his neck.

"Hobie! What the fu–" click! Yuri captures the moment.

"That one's for the front page!" Yuri laughs, checking the picture on the small screen. James and Ned scooch closer to Yuri, peeking at the pictures. They laugh and smile at the pictures you've taken.

Hobie still holds you up, hands warm against your jeans. "You come here often?" He smiles down at you, eyes twinkling at your flustered face.

"I could strangle you right now" you quip.

"You're not tall enough" Hobie scoffs even though he has a smile on his lips.

"I literally have my arms around your neck"

"Kinky" he narrows his eyes at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

You chuckle nervously, "you can let me go now" you say despite not actually wanting him to let go.

"Nah, you look great in this angle" heat rises in your cheeks when he winks at you.

"Well you don't, you've got a bit of a double chin in this angle" you tease back, almost not getting the sentence out completely because of your laughs.

"I could just drop you, y'know"

"But you won't" you lean up slightly, pinching the back of his neck.

"You sure 'bout that?" He pretends to drop you, you gasp a bit, smacking your palm on his chest. He chuckles at your reaction. "I'm not gonna drop you" he fixes his hold on you.

"Yeah, but I'm getting heavy aren't I?" You grin at how he's trying really hard at carrying you.

"No" he lies, slowly putting you back on the ground.

"Mm-hmm, told you so"

—

You hum as Yuri gives you an unexpected hug goodbye, reciprocating the embrace, you pull away, holding her at arm's length.

"Watch us play at the concert?" Yuri asks you.

"Of course, I'll be there"

"Ohh, we'll definitely win then" Yuri goes in for another hug, squeezing you.

You and Hobie stand on the boat, watching them drive off in Yuri's beetle.

The sun slowly sets in the horizon, bathing the boat in its orange light. A breeze rushes past, hugging your coat tighter around you.

"You want a ride?"

"Ride?" You got distracted by the rays hitting his face just right, accentuating his sculpted face.

"Yeah, ride y'know, vroom vroom?" He acts as if he's revving his motorcycle's engine.

You laugh again, face hurting from all the smiling. "Are you trying to get rid of me already?"

"Never" he holds the crook of your elbow. "You're not too tired?" Concern on his face.

"A bit, but I'm not done yet with your bed sheet" you stand closer to him, the tips of your shoes kissing his. "Why do you have so many holes in them? I think I know what to get you for your birthday"

"I'm genuinely excited for new bed sheets" he rubs your arm, warming you.

"That's a sign you're getting old"

"Fuck off, I'm only a year older than you" he scoffs with no ounce of malice in it.

"Mm-hmm you're a homeowner now, how does it feel Mr. Hobart Brown" you lift an imaginary microphone to him. He finds your playfulness endearing, smiling softly at your good mood.

He plays along, leaning towards the invisible mic. "It'll be better once you've moved in"

You bite your lip, bashfully looking at him through your eyelashes. Moving the mic back to you "You've gone soft, can you tell us about that?"

Hobie sighs loudly, almost blurting out exactly why he's gone soft around the edges. He holds your wrist, pretending to talk into the imaginary mic "Well Ms. L/n, it comes with age" he surrenders just so he can hear you laugh wholeheartedly again.

"Knew it" You poke his chest. "Now, let me help you set up your bed. I can't let you sleep on the floor"

He bites his tongue at the innuendo that appears in his mind, "I'm not gonna sleep on the floor, I have a mattress"

"Yeah, a mattress that's on the floor!" You put your hands on your hips.

Hobie surrenders to you once again, at least he gets to hangout with you more. He's already getting ready for the screaming match when you two get frustrated with building the complicated bed frame.

—

You run from the metro station, legs straining, huffing, trying to regulate your breathing. Maybe it's a mistake to wear your new boots to the show, your heels clack against the hard pavement, increasing your chance of stumbling and breaking your ankle.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! You internally curse. You promised the band you'll be there for their final show, I can't believe I overslept! Please tell me they're not on yet! Regretting sleeping late because of your project. You shouldn't have made that complicated embroidery.

You skid to a stop, holding up your ticket to show the security guard. He nods stiffly, you practically run towards the side of the stage, dodging the growing crowd. You quickly gaze over the large stage, finding the staff still setting it all up. Yes! They haven't started yet! Smiling victoriously.

You stop, heels skidding to a halt, smile fading away when you see an unknown woman right next to Hobie, whispering closely to his ear, bare arms around his neck, fingers fiddling with the metal chain he always wears.

Oh

A/N: This chapter made me miss my chaotic OCs 🥺 Thank you for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

(please tell me if I missed any asterisks, they're placeholders for me during drafting. I feel like I missed some lol)

*pictures above are from pinterest*

#thread the needle chapter 5 #thread the needle series #thread the needle #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider punk #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fluff #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you #hobie brown fluff #cw food #cw food mention #fanfic

[ilynpilled]

i feel like ive seen too many very odd reads of this whole thing, so i do wanna go through jaime & the brutal murder of rhaegar and elia’s children situation.

first of all, we know jaime’s main function as a kingsguard at 15: he is a pawn in aerys and tywin’s beef. he is a hostage and a means to rob tywin of an heir

this is what rhaegar tells him too. despite jaime’s guilt, it was not a “i am leaving everything in your hands 💔 you are my most trusted knight” being said to an unseasoned teen, rhaegar isn’t dense, but a: “he is tywin’s son, he is the ideal hostage to keep him under control. a crutch for aerys and his dangerous paranoia (even if just to satiate him, which is why he was kept close, again, people knew that aerys was erratic atp.)” we have the actual conversation. rhaegar is open about this, he isnt really tricking jaime here. they also emphasize that he has to stay near aerys. that is his primary role, not anything else. what rhaegar didn’t take into consideration is that tywin, when it comes down to it, will sack the city anyway (neither did he know what would happen at the trident, and how badly the tides will turn, how it will affect aerys and how he will think he was betrayed by lewyn and dorne, how he will not let elia and the children leave etc), the stakes are too great for house lannister and we know tywin will not pick the losing side. it is already a pretty grim situation for jaime, who had witnessed the brutal executions of a bunch of people at this point, to be left alone in the hands of a mad man as someone who eventually becomes solely responsible for the red keep, while also being functionally a hostage while his father decides to betray the crown, but of course, aerys has a bigger plan to retaliate and therefore jaime also has bigger things to worry about.

jaime feels guilt and responsibility about the whole thing anyway, and the way it is read in the most bad faith way imaginable is kind of odd to me. the dream is extremely integral. it reveals things to us that jaime pushes down as a narrator. it peels off the layers. first of all, jaime is explicit about ned’s judgement, the kingslayer complex, and the role that played, and his concious expects ned to show up in the dream as well, but it is revealed to be not actually about that. he, and that external source of judgement and scorn, is not the thing that haunts him. we see that it is a deep sense of failure over being unable to triumph over contradictions. he reflects on this after the dream too: “it was not him. it was never him.” and the message is deliberately delivered by the ghosts of the people that embody that initial quixotic view of the world that he had as a boy.

i have seen people claim that the “light dimming” is meant to indicate jaime lying about not knowing (being aware that tywin can be very brutal and is capable of hurting innocents is different from jaime knowing or suspecting this order). even if that wasnt contradicted in the text (ill get to this), it doesnt seem to work with the dream? the fires also gutter out when he gets condemned for killing the king right after, there is no clear him “lying” consistency here. and even if you go by that interpretation, the flame is unaffected by the claim of “i was with the king”, which would then have to be true (and it is—so again what is jaime meant to do here?) because we know the scaling of maegor’s holdfast was happening simultaneously with aerys being murdered and the wildfire plot being stopped. the main function of this part of the dream is jaime’s light, a “romantic burning out” as george puts it, being destroyed by contradictory oaths and a fundamentally unjust and cynical world. the light being withered is about losing hope & purpose, and failing to keep vows that actually matter. rhaegar’s children, his guilt over them, and the oath they embody (protect the weak, defend the innocent) plague his mind. the “I never thought he’d hurt them” is relevant in a different way. jaime is guilty of being an extension of the lannister regime. he is guilty of enabling it. and this is more relevant to him after this event, in the present. the whole dream operates on three levels: past, present, and future.

it is why this idea comes up with the tysha situation as well. whether he knew or considered it at the time (and i do not personally think he did, or it was compartmentalized) or not is not whats truly relevant. i think the point that is being emphasized is that tywin and his legacy is something that has to be rejected entirely in the present. he knows by now inarguably. no more “looking without seeing.” this justification does not work anymore. anyway, the point is that his light goes out because of the terror of being confronted with these contradictory oaths and impossible situations where these heavy choices have to be made, with devastating costs. the vows cannot compromise. these are situations and choices that destroy a nonexistent ideal that he had always romanticized in every aspect of his life. it is a culmination of the build up of everything jaime held close to his heart being torn down during those two years serving in the kingsguard. it is about the conflict between ethics and morals: “In some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted’s screaming. “We are sworn to protect her as well,” Jaime had finally been driven to say. “We are,” Darry allowed, “but not from him.” & “After, Gerold Hightower himself took me aside and said to me, “You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.”

but this situation is intentionally impossible in every aspect. morals and ethics conflict. we have the obvious of what do you do when killing the king breaks the oath you swore to protect him? what if not doing it means breaking the oath to protect the innocent? what if your heroes condemn you despite you telling them the full context of this dilemma and make the fire gutter out permanently? what if being with the king (be it to protect him or kill him to save a city) means you are not there to protect the children from your own father (who you are also sworn to obey)? the moral constructs that this society operates with is nonsense, and it is not confronted by people. can the horrors be fought at all? this is how you have someone described as a “very idealistic young man” by george turn into the amoral bitter cynic we see in the actual series who proceeds to revolve his life around another delusion instead, the only one that remains to him, and loses his own moral code due to how extremely it all conflicts with all code of ethics. it results in a cowardly acceptance of the horrors, his selfishness and faux nihilism, and leads to the enablement and perpetuation of evil.

there is a reason this whole thing haunts jaime and his narrative, and starts blending together with the starks in adwd (something jaime is directly accountable for), and is a huge factor when it comes to jaime effectively contradicting tywin’s dogma when he goes with brienne. jaime became that “knight” in many ways, he, by his own admission, became the smiling knight, who he later also labels “the mountain of my boyhood.” but he is not anymore, which is why there are notable anti parallels in that chapter.

when it comes to how much jaime knew back then, i think the text is pretty clear:

1. if jaime knew or suspected that tywin had the massacre of an entire family already in motion the hope of “leaving to make terms” would not really be there. 2. after he is found, crakehall informs him that they secured the city and the castle. jaime points out in retrospect that this was only half true, and that he couldn’t have known about the scaling (and other things) still happening by this point. jaime is under the impression that everything is secured as a result. he orders everyone who yields to be spared. he is also under the impression as per his narration that aegon is still there, safe and alive, and could be a potential king. however, he does become concerned about the possibility of another aerys. there is a reason he climbs the throne here imo. i never read this as “jaime too busy fucking around lol” or “is intentionally letting them die because his blood is in both of them.” again, he orders everyone who yields spared, and is under the impression that the castle is already secured. he even entertains the possibility of tywin being hand to aegon as king (clearly not possible with what is in the middle of happening —and if he even suspects this threat, why is this considered a possibility by him?) until he gets an aerys flashback, and decides against it despite it serving his family. he has a lot of things on his mind right now anyway to figure out tywin’s current strategy when it comes to house lannister (not to mention this is not really how jaime’s brain works, he is not very machiavellian minded) considering he just damned himself by committing one of the most significant oathbreakings in history, and that someone will fill the hole left by the person who had the power to nuke a city, something that jaime has nightmares about nearly 20 years later. and even if he was aware of this threat that he clearly wasn’t, considering the fact that it was happening simultaneously with jaime killing aerys and being found, if he knew and tried to rush over there after killing aerys, judging from the distance, it would have been too late. hence “i was with the king…” in the dream.

#jaime lannister #i am genuinely baffled at how something so clearly presented can be skewed to the point that it usually is #like this is the core of much of his character too like hello #ig bc none of this was in the show??? lol???

[laundrybiscuits]

“Eddie,” Robin says, eyes wide in a way that means trouble. “Edward Munson, I sincerely hope your last will and testament is in order, because you are going to completely and totally die when I tell you who just got hired at Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie groans. “Don’t tell me Tammy Thompson is giving up on her Nashville dreams.”

“No, I hate you, shut up forever, you’ll never guess.” Robin pauses, then in a dramatic whisper she’s definitely picked up from Eddie himself, says: “Steve Harrington.”

“Jesus. No shit?”

“Yeah, I have to train him. Oh my god it’s the worst. He’s so bad at, like, everything.”

She shoves at his shoulder until he moves out of the doorway of the trailer, and flings herself backwards onto his couch. “Like! Okay! I showed up to my shift thinking it would be a completely normal day in which I would be bored out of my skull distributing frozen dairy products to the flotsam and jetsam of Hawkins, and Ned’s like, hey Robin, you’re showing the new guy the ropes today. And then that freaking jackass has the freaking nerve to say—” Her voice drops a full register. “Uhh, nice to meet you, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you! God!”

Eddie cringes sympathetically, sucking air between his teeth. There’s a special kind of indignity to being so completely and utterly below the radar of Hawkins High royalty, even former bearers of the crown. It’s not as if Hawkins is a big town; Eddie’s pretty sure he could pick every single person in the graduating classes of ‘84 and ‘85 out of a crowd. He’ll probably be able to do it for ‘86 too, though he’s trying not to think about it too hard. So he’ll be a senior again (again) this fall, whatever. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

Once in a while, he wastes some time really, really wishing he’d gotten to know Robin earlier in the year. Maybe even last year. For undying friendship reasons, yeah, but also because with her in his corner, he might’ve actually passed enough of his classes to fucking graduate on his second fucking try.

But he’d only actually met her, like actually met her for real instead of passing her in the hall sometimes, when he’d let himself get suckered into rejoining band. It wasn’t like he could’ve brought his guitar in, but he let it slip to Miss Genovese that he could read music and keep time, and they needed someone to wallop the bass drum, and he figured a little experience fucking around with percussion might be the one thing he could salvage from the year. He’d just…been so goddamn tired of feeling stuck, spinning his wheels. Music was something he could actually handle; something he could actually get better at. Something he could master. He's man enough to admit he needed a win.

The actual songs were all stuffy Holst and Sousa numbers, but they’d had some fun technical bits he spent his evenings hammering out for a couple weeks. And then right around the point when he’d gotten good enough to get bored and think about quitting like last time, it had somehow wound up that shooting the shit with the gangly weirdo in the trumpet section was one of the best parts of his day. Unfortunately, by the time they’d gotten close enough for her to start bullying him about homework and shit, it had been way too late to save his chance at walking that ‘85 stage with assholes like Steve fucking Harrington.

Not that Harrington would’ve even noticed, apparently.

“Anyway, the one singular saving grace about the entire situation is that he looks even dumber in the sailor costume than I do, so at least that will make me feel better about my life until he gets fired for burning down the ice cream freezer or something like that. Eddie, I cannot stress this enough: he is so bad at this job.”

Eddie very tactfully does not bring up the litany of screw-ups that Robin’s admitted to over the last couple weeks since she started at Scoops; he just says, “Buckley, it sounds to me like you might be in need of some quality relaxation time this fine evening. I can offer you a nice cold beer, some herbal refreshment…or a fiendishly weird new song to learn with an intro riff that'll make you cry.”

Robin, inveterate nerd of his heart, sits up immediately and chirps, “New song, please!” just like he knew she would. She’s going to run off and elope with his acoustic one of these days, and he’s not even mad about it.

“Coming right up, m’lady,” says Eddie. “I promise this entire Harrington situation will be over before you know it, and neither of us will ever have to think about him again.”

(ETA: First chapter of this fic has been edited/expanded and posted on AO3)

#new fic time YET AGAIN yes I know I have other things on the boil #seasonal things even #but I have recently spent 36 hours without sleep in airports/airplanes bc the nation of britain is 0% equipped to handle subzero temps #I literally kept myself sane by rereading nice comments I'd saved on my phone so thanks for that y'all #and I just needed to work on a thing that wasn't an angsty mid-90s Steve POV set in chicago; this was next on the docket #I'm just out here vibing with my Eddie & Robin: Gay BFFs agenda #obviously this will be steddie eventually but it feels disingenuous to tag on this part #fyi this will not be fully compliant with Rebel Robin but there may be some details drawn from the book/podcast #fic: purify our misfit ways

[jackoshadows]

The level of utterly hypocritical discourse in the asoiaf fandom.

About Sansa:

Same person about Robb and Jon:

Same person about Dany:

I simply love how there are these multipage essays and economic treatises on how Robb, Jon, Dany Et al. fuck up and fumble and are just bad leaders who don't enforce wage regulations and clause three of the constitution in worker's rights or plan army discipline and Jon is apparently just an 'angry teenager' unfit for leadership etc.

But Sansa? QUEEN IN THE NORTH because she's the blood of Winterfell! ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES NARRATIVELY.

And Sansa, who is currently 13, should be queen because the narrative says so! When, according to the same person, 16 year olds Jon and Robb fuck up as they are too young to be good rulers as per the same narrative that tells them that Sansa will be Queen...

That's what the narrative is telling us - that characters can become the best rulers/leaders simply because of their blood and has nothing to do with experience and learning and wisdom and hey look at Dany, Robb and Jon fucking up when Sansa will magically, simply be the best - the NARRATIVE SAYS SO!

Meanwhile GRRM on ruling:

One thing that I am trying to get at in the books, the political aspect if you would, is to kind of show that this stuff is hard. I think that an awful lot of fantasy and even some great fantasy falls under the mistake of assuming that a good man would be a good king and all that is necessary is to be a decent human being and then when you are king everything will go swimmingly. Tolkien is great but we never get into the nitty gritty of Aragorn ruling. What is his tax policy? How does he feel about crop rotation? How does he handle land disputes between two nobles, both of whom think that they should have the village, so they burn it down to establish their claim. This is the hard part of ruling be it in the middle ages or now. It’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler. It’s complicated and it’s hard and I wanted to show that with repeated examples in my books with my kings and hand of the kings - the prime minister if you would - trying to rule. And whether it be Ned Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Tywin Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen or Cersei Lannister trying to deal with the real challenges that affect anyone trying to rule the 7K or even a city like Meereen and it’s hard. You know, we can all read the books or read history and say oh, so and so was stupid and made a lot of mistakes and look at all these stupid mistakes they make. But these kind of mistakes are always much more apparent in hind sight than when you are actually faced with the decision about, oh my God, what would I do in this situation. How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about  the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. And I want to get to all of that - GRRM

Apparently, when it comes to Sansa, GRRM will be saying:

" I mean, it (ruling) is EASY. The food conundrums that Jon and Dany are unable to solve in entire books will be easily tackled by Sansa who will just ask everyone to bring their grain to Winterfell! Easy peasy and one and done! I mean, Sansa is the BLOOD OF WINTERFELL! "

These chucklefucks don't know the first thing about narratives and themes. The result of GRRM not writing a book in 13 years is wading through shite like this.

#fandom nonsense

[everyscreentoobeseen]

Hold on, why do yall think Stede's choice to kill Ned was a WHIM?????

First of all, this isnt the first time Stede got someone killed. Chuancy was an accident, but he did use the stun move. All of ep 2 s1 was about Stede learning how to deal with it. He still feels bad but as he told the natives. He dosen't feel bad that Chauncey is dead. His crew was under threat. So he stopped Badminton from hurting them. His bad feelings came from somewhere else.

Nighel Badminton got himself killed but it did make Stede run back home and face his problems. When he does go back home he tells the other rich guys.

"I've seen death. Been the cause of it. It changes you."

He already knows what it's like be a killer!

But everytime it wasn't his choice. The Badmintons were accidents. He never got to actually choose to be a killer.

That's why when Ned Low invaded his "safe space ship", captured his crew (family) and tortured not only them but also The Love of his Life, Making it into a fucked up PERFORMANCE! All his life bullies found fun in torturing him. Why would this guy be any different.

Hell yeah he was ready to kill him.

Of course, this time he gets to choose. This is not him using a stun move. He is now the conducter of Ned's death and he'll be damned if it's not done His Way.

He's not gonna stab him. It's not gonna be messy. It's not gonna be fast like a gunshot or a stab through the head.

He is going to make Ned SUFFER. Force him to walk the plank. Throw his precious violin in his face and let him drown. It's clean. It's poetic. It's outsourcing the big job to nature. Just like killing spiders.

But Ned continues to demean him. "You know once you kill me your a real pirate. Your not an amateur anymore." Even after everything Stede has been through. Not matter how much he's grown, the world still thinks he's playing at pirating.

The Badmintons dont count.

EVEN ED THINKS SO!

"Once you've killed in cold blood. You cant come back."

Well Chuancy's death was cold blooded wasn't it? Stede snuck him from behind. The boat fire that he caused isn't enough either. When Ed burns a boat, it's murder. But when Stede does it it's "quirky". Stede ALREADY considered himself a killer but NO ONE ELSE DOES. (not even the fandom apparently.)

Yes, he wanted to prove himself. But I don't think that was the thought process until Ned brought it up.

Stede did not hesitate on Ned's death until the others made him question himself. He was completely set on making sure Ned wasn't a threat to his ship. He was so sure of making him walk the plank. It was PLANNED from the moment he put the plank down and the other boat left. What's one more death? But then everyone was treating him like a innocent child?? Like he's doing something unlike him?

He HAD TO PROVE to everyone in that moment that he could kill Ned because no one RECOGNIZED that he was ALREADY a killer.

Him killing Ned became a point to make once he realized there was even a point to be made.

The only reason that he felt even a little bad about it was because Ed asked him not to. He felt like he let Ed down. That maybe Edward like Stede Bonnet, Landed Gentry Pretending to Be A Pirate more than Stede Bonnet, Real Pirate. Because he realized how much he's changed. No more Gentleman, now he's just a Pirate.

That's why he Sped Things Up with Ed. He wanted Ed to prove that he could handle not so innocent Stede FUCKING Bonnet. That he wouldn't leave Stede after seeing this new side of him. He gets consent and then goes on to have the man of his dreams after saving him. How romantic male lead of him.

Of course the NEXT FUCKING DAY HE GETS TOLD IT WAS A MISTAKE!!!! THAT HE'S NOT READY FOR "WHATEVER THIS IS".

How on earth was Stede not supposed to take this as "I dont like the you that isn't soft, isn't insecure, isnt in need of protection." That Ed is leaving to become a fisherman because he cant stand Stede being the messy one for once in his life.

Maybe it was trauma. Maybe it was a show of toxic masculinity. But dont pretend like Stede did it on a WHIM.

#ofmd #blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #stede bonnet #stede fucking bonnet #ned low #chauncey badminton #nigel badminton #the takes I've been seeing are.... SO BAD #pls tell me you don't think stede wasn't actively choosing to kill a man that attacked him first #i need to read/write fanfics about this #ofmd meta #man on fire #calypso's birthday

[snekthedemonnoodle]

so some of you may have already seen this, but for those of you who havent:

Twenty One Pilots dropped one of those 10 hour relaxation videos on YouTube with Ned. obviously, because of the merch drop a couple days ago, everyone freaked out (and still are freaking out) about it and analyzing every second of it.

easter eggs:

TRASH

above the fireplace that Ned is sitting by, there are two glowing yellow speakers that look like eyes. they look like Trash’s eyes and/or Keons’ and Tyler’s eyes in The Outside MV.

5:17:00

for the first five hours of the video, Ned is asleep. at 5:17:00, he wakes up and a TV that he is sitting in front of turns on. that day, May 17th, 2015, is the release of Blurryface. since Ned opens his eyes at 5:17:00, it references the release of Blurryface, the beginning of the Dema storyline, and the eye opening GIFs.

TV

when Ned opens his eyes at 5:17:00, the TV starts playing a video of Tyler in his recording studio. the TV also plays the Christmas Saves The Year MV and a couple more that i cant quite figure out (tell me if you do!). and the last clip looks like Dema burning!

NOTE

on the wall, there’s a note to Ned from Ned (they’re all named Ned). it says:

Ned,

Saw Clncy N Torch Berer jus like Keon’s sed

Hope you ar well

Ned

the missing letters are A, D, A, T, E.

A DATE.

but what date? 5/17/24 (May 17th, 2024)?

anyway, i think thats the most important stuff for now. i definitely didnt cover all the easter eggs, but these are the ones that are the most lore-y to me. thanks for reading!

#twenty one pilots #twenty øne piløts #tøp #josh dun #tyler joseph #lore #ned #twenty one pilots ned #tøp ned #twenty one pilots new era #tøp new era #twenty one pilots lore #tøp lore

[peterparkeeperer]

affectionate drunk (peter parker x gn!reader)

It’s 1 am on a Saturday night, and bringing home a drunk peter wasn’t in your plans.

Well it hadnt been, until he told you Friday night that Mj and Ned wanted to celebrate his birthday in advance (his birthday wasn’t for another week, but they needed a sound excuse to get wasted), calling it ‘pre-birthday party’ was such a lame label you’d told him as such (“you know you can just get drunk like normal people, right?”).

So, after you’d picked him up and he’d sang loudly to the radio he forced you to turn up despite it being the dead of night, you got him inside the front door.

“I love you so much, you know that?”

“I love you too, baby. I hope you know that too.”

“And I really love,” he drags out the words as he tries leaning in. He only manages to trip over his own feet to whisper into your ear, “when you fuck me, you know that?”

You chuckle, and your hand resting on his waist pets it slowly.

“I do know that, you tell me everytime,”

He groans exasperated, and leans in fully to bring his arms around your neck. It’s almost like a hug, if you weren’t basically holding his weight up.

“God, because it’s so true. Can we do it now?”

Your eyebrows fly up, amused. “You’re drunk, sweetheart. You know I won’t.”

He whines and tucks his face into your neck. You feel his warm nose rub the length of your throat.

“But I really want to. I want you, see?”

His hand grabs at yours to pull it down, and the back of your limp hand feels the hardness in his pants. Your gut burns, but despite this you refuse.

“I’ll reward you tomorrow, that sound good?”

He doesn’t say anything, but nods with vigor and accepts your answer, of course, as he wouldn’t push despite being drunk.

“Now let’s get you to bed, tipsy.”

He steps (stumbles) towards your bedroom, and you resist a giggle when he walks halfway into the doorway. Finally, your reach the duvets, you drop right in the middle of it. He shimmies his way under the covers, you smile.

“Snug as a bug in a rug, huh?”

He talks halfway smushed into the pillow, “Hold me,”

Your heart, like it always does with him, throbs with the intensity of love. Feeling no reason to deny this very tempting offer you crawl right beside him and cuddle him into a restful sleep.

It’s a few hours when you wake up, your eyes open to your ceiling and shuffling at your side.

You automatically turn your head to look at the clock at your bedside table and you see it’s 10 in the morning. Your turn to look at Peter, and finds him laying at his side looking at your already.

“Hey,” his voice is raspy, a voice you won’t admit to you being very weak to it. There’s a sort of intimacy of sleeping and waking up to someone right by your side.

“Hello there, feeling better?”

He nods, and rubs his face unconsciously into the side of your arm. “Much.”

You nod, “why’re you awake?”

At this question he doesn’t answer at first, and now he tucks his head lower as if to hide. He stays there and his answer is muffled when he responds.

“You said I’d get a reward,”

“At 10 in the morning?”

He peeks up to glare at you.

“And also, technically I said that at 1 am, so your reward wouldn’t be until tomorrow.”

His eyes turn a bit desperate, as if he’s craving it so badly even jokes and banter pains him at the thought of losing it. This realisation has your body warming.

“Please,” it’s one word, but his breath catches and it sounds almost broken. He doesn’t know how much you want him, sometimes you wonder if this craving you feel for him is a newtons cradle between the two of you, a steady slam of desire and love going back and forth.

You smile, like you do so easily at him, and give in.

“Want to turn around?”

He does so without word, duvets and blankets twisting and turning. You grin.

Your hand drags down to his chest first, feeling his nipples outside of the fabric. He sucks in a breath. Immediately his legs start moving. He does it subconsciously, a squirmer to the core, it’s incredibly endearing.

You slip your hand under the shirt and feel his abs, they’re warm, like every other part of him. But then you drag your nails over his nipples before pinching them. Peter moans this time, and it has your hips grinding against his ass just once to satiate the heat that blooms at your crotch. He arches back to meet your grind, but in a strong act of self control you put your hand on his hip only once to still him.

Your hand goes to his shorts, and he lifts himself awkwardly at his side to get them and his underwear off. His cock bobs to nearly slap at his lower stomach.

You feel almost in a hurry once your hand grabs his warm dick, and you realise that you’re feeling a little out of control out of desperation. You want him so badly you ache. He gasps, and humps into your hand, “please, please!” His voice breaks, and you lay your lips by his ear.

“You want to cum?” He gets goosebumps as soon as you speak.

“Yes.”

“Do it, then.”

He immediately starts grinding into your fist. You don’t help, and instead smirk behind him. It only takes a little while of huffing and puffing, but soon Peter seems to realise that it’s not enough.

“I need help, please,” he stutters, and his voice sounds a little wet.

“Really? You do? What do you want me to do?”

He whines, and grinds slowly into your fist again, a few trickles of precum slides down.

“Jerk me off.”

“Like this?” Your slowly drag your first down the length of his hand and back up again, he gasps with the relief it brings him. More precum appears.

“Yes! Yes!”

“Alright then.”

And with that, you start jerking him off fast and hard. He chokes in surprise, before his moans start coming uncontrollably. You’re mean with your pace, and you don’t let down even when your arm starts hurting.

Soon you know he’s about to cum, his voice starts pitching higher and higher.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m-,”

“Is my baby gonna cum? Yeah?”

He nods fast and clumsily, and right as he’s on the edge, you stop. And Peter, who’s been through sadism and games with you before, sobs.

“Shhh baby. You knew that would happen, didn’t you? I’m so mean, aren’t I?”

It’s patronising, mean. And you feel him throb in your hand. You resist grinding against him for relief. You kiss the length of his sweaty neck and his tear stained cheek lovingly.

Feeling he’s had enough, you start again. Your pace isn’t as fast as before, but rather affectionate.

“Alright, I’ll let you come now. You’re always being so good, so polite for me. You’re a good boy, Peter, you know that?”

He cries and jumps into your hand. “I-I love you, s-so much.”

Your heart shoots into your throat and you smile widely. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

and with that, he comes.

#gn!reader #dom x sub #sub peter parker #peter Parker x reader #spiderman x reader #dom reader #dom reader x spiderman #3dging #j3rking #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #self insert #spiderman x you #heheh

[sherlokiness]

Isn't RLJ a false marriage? Won't jon still be a bastard then?

Elia and Rhaegar had healthy children, legit kids so won't Ned respect that marriage like any northern one? Also elia's marriage was not under any coercion or dubious consent like Lyanna's supposed one was. And valyrian polygamy was outlawed for years, so ned should never see it as a real marriage.

(thanks for ur earlier answer by the way)

Hi, anon. Thanks for the ask! It was no biggie.

I would like you to read the comment from Ygrain in this thread. The biggest proof of RLJ marriage is the presence of the Kingsguard at the ToJ. I'll post a shorter version of it down below.

"I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them.

“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered.

“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

The KG consider Robert a usurper.

When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”

“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

So the KG knew that Aerys is dead and denounces Jaime as a KG. We could also infer that they weren't with Aerys when Jaime killed his king.

“I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”

Ned tells them the remaining Targ forces have bent the knees and was surprised they weren't there.

“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.

To which Arthur replied that their knees do not bend easily yet when Ned approached earlier, Oswell Whent was on his knee. Taken together, it's a clue that they have already bent the knee to someone.

“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”

Why aren't the KG with Viserys the supposed king if they're really so honorable? Their duties would demand them to get him to safety.

“Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell.

They've ignored the insult of Viserys being called a prince and admits he doesn't have a KG.

“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”

So Willem is a good man and it's okay to be with the prince but not them because they're the KG. And what is the primary duty of the KG? To protect and defend the King.

“Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

So the KG does not flee and they would have defended the king then(Aerys) and that's what they're doing now(Jon).

“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.

Below are the exact points from the thread:

The Lord Commander is citing the Kingsguard’s vow as the reason that they must stay. He has decided that all three would remain, and we must presume that the reason is to protect the king. Several things contribute to this conclusion:

The White Bull, as Ser Gerold is known, is quite the stickler when it comes to the comport of Kingsguard duties.

Ser Gerold does not have a friendship with Rhaegar that would favor this decision.

Ser Gerold has already stated that he would slay Jaime to protect Aerys.

Ser Gerold’s decision to keep Arthur and Oswell with him only protects the king (the primary purpose of the Kingsguard) if the king is present at the tower.

Ned knows that these men were honoring their Kingsguard vow. There is no other vow that Ned is ever aware of. He thinks of these three as the epitome of honor and skill. A shining example for the world.

Also, all the jokes about bastards and princes GRRM does with Joffrey and Jon won't work if they're both bastards.

#sherlokiness ask #I'm sorry but this thread was so brilliant #no way jon is a bastard

[celluloidbroomcloset]

(Previous posts are here: Stede's clothing arc, Part I and Part II. Ed's clothing arc.)

Stede and Ed's clothing arcs start to connect fully in "Calypso's Birthday."

At the start of the episode, Ed is back in his leathers, and Stede is still in the red shirt from the cursed suit. (I know that it's commonly viewed that this is literally the day after the cursed suit incident, but given some of the dialogue between the crew, I think its been longer than that. Stede literally has two sets of clothes, if that.) It's in these guises that they take the crew shopping.

At Calypso's Birthday, the entire crew dresses up, to greater and lesser degrees, from Wee John in full drag as Calypso to Roach and Olu just wearing a few flowers. But Ed and Stede don't - Ed wears his leathers still, and Stede has changed into the leather trousers and blue shirt (continuing the trend of ever-increasing necklines showing more of his chest) that he'll wear for the rest of the season.

They stand somewhat separate from the group, but they're not isolated, left out, or superior to things. They joke with the crew - with Stede admonishing them that he wants his tub back - get a drink, and stand together off to the side to watch Izzy's performance. They both act as older people - or dads - enjoying the kids having fun.

This is progress for them. In Season 1, Ed would be attempting to perform as Blackbeard, telling stories of his adventures; Stede would have taken over the entire party and made it into a big production. Here, they've grown - this is for the crew, and they're just a part of it. Their clothing reflects that - Stede isn't centralizing himself in his costuming, trying to be a part of the in-crowd, and Ed is in the process of becoming just Ed. They are still part of the group, expressing themselves in a different way.

Calypso's birthday is essentially Pirate Pride, and here we have all the different modes of gender and sexual expression, in which no one is judged for who they are, who they love, or how they choose to express themselves. Ned Lowe sweeps in and tries to destroy it, but he can't - Izzy finishes singing his song, and Roach sets off his fireworks.

But Stede and Ed aren't present for that, though again, they are not driven out of the group nor do they reject it; what they need is different from what the rest of the party needs.

The next clothing change is the lack of it. As Stede closes the curtains on the bed nook, we see that he's no longer wearing his shirt. Stede is stripped and Ed is in the process of it - he's back in the clothes he saw himself in "The Innkeeper," the same clothes in which Stede saved him. The dressing gown he'll wear the next morning is on the bed.

At the end of Season 1, both are afraid of their nakedness and its attendant vulnerability. Nakedness comes back in Season 2 with Ed's "horrible naked chin" comment, which Stede rebuffs: "I love your chin, naked or otherwise." But it's Stede, so defined by his clothing, who strips down first. The man who wrapped himself in layers of fine and confining fabric is fully vulnerable, half-naked in front of his lover, who looks at him like nothing has ever been so beautiful.

Ed, who was vulnerable first and was burned by it, hasn't completely opened himself again. But he's in the process of it, returning to the costume in which he first saw himself. The next morning he'll also attempt to completely discard the clothes that defined him (that he's not yet able to do so indicates that he's not fully ready to be that vulnerable with Stede again).

This sequence is not the end of the arc, but a vital moment within it. It's this that enables them to navigate the next two episodes, and how Ed comes to the conclusion of this portion of his arc. By the end of the season, the Blackbeard persona becomes more fully integrated into Ed not as a separate disguise behind which to hide, but as a way to fight for the man he loves. That their having sex is not the end of that development is also important - nothing is solved by their intimacy, but it represents an important movement forward.

It's crucial that Stede and Ed are able to remove their armor and see each other as they are, both for the arc of their relationship and for their concurrent growth. As Buttons puts it, they have to be able to change themselves in order to love each other better, but they're also the two men on the beach, showing their vulnerabilities and taking the first tentative steps towards each other.

#ofmd season 2 #ofmd 2 #ofmd meta #our flag means death #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #stede bonnet #ed teach #calypso's birthday #gif #i'm sure there's more to be said about all of this