#i really wanted to draw them on their roof chairs

[crunchchute]

#crunchchute art #my art #sam and max #i could work on this one forever but i had to stop myself cause it looks done already. but i keep seeing details that i could still change #that Nobody would notice lol. its good #made a draft of the bg first then a sketch of them and i couldnt get myself to line it properly so i just painted right on top of everythin #thats when i just cant stop ever #i really wanted to draw them on their roof chairs #inspired by the current april weather

[joelsgreys]

baby, i’m yours

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel fic

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

#dp dc crossover #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc comics #dcu #dc #billy batson #shazam #ghost king danny #magic #coffee #cafe #I don't drink coffee #I don't even go to cafes #Idk if that's how it works #it is now #in this economy? #Hopefully #protection sigil #I made that up on the spot with very little research #If anyone draws it please tag me #Do we like where this is going? #part 3 #Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant

[inoreuct]

punkflower where hobie loves the morales family, loves how they’re becoming HIS family.

still, the first time jeff calls him “son”, he has such a visceral reaction.

he knows it’s coming from a good place and he knows he should be touched, but he’s only ever been called son in a condescending way. in a “know your place beneath me and stay in it” way. he feels so sick all of a sudden, nausea roiling in his gut, and his knee bangs against the underside of the table as he screeches his chair back and mutters a shaky “’scuse me”.

he hears rio’s concerned call of his name, sees the confusion and dread on jeff’s face right before he turns and leaves. he doesn’t stop until he’s up on the roof, ducking into the bottom of the water tower and collapsing into a corner.

stupid. it’s so stupid, and it pisses him off how tears are burning down his cheeks.

hobie scrubs them away with the back of his wrist even as he hears the door to the roof creak open, hears the familiar gait that he knows belongs to miles. he keeps his face turned away as his boyfriend appears in his line of sight, stepping gingerly like if he moved too fast hobie would break.

the punk sniffs angrily, the spikes on his cuff poking his cheek as he wipes his tears again. a hand brushes his against the ground as miles sits down beside him, close enough to touch but not quite.

he waits. for miles to say something, anything; to ask for an explanation, or offer words of comfort that will ultimately only make him feel worse.

in the end, it’s him that breaks the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he offers, and cringes. his voice is thick like rusted metal, scratchy in his throat. it’s scraping up against old wounds that never really healed, pulling at scabs to draw fresh blood, and it stings. “m’sorry, i just— he’s—” it feels damning to even say these words, but it’s the truth, and hobie’s never been a good liar.

doesn’t mean it’s not eating him alive, though.

“he’s still a cop, miles,” he chokes out, guilt winching around his lungs like a parasite, “and the last time a cop called me son—” hobie’s breath shudders out of his lungs as miles crawls into his space, ducking his head beneath hobie’s arm to press the punk’s face to his chest.

“i know,” miles murmurs, wrapping his fingers around hobie’s nape as hobie scrunches a desperate fist into the back of his shirt. “i know. i understand.”

hobie doesn’t think he really does, but that’s okay. if hobie has any say in it, miles will never have to go through what he did and understand what it’s like.

his voice is meek as he asks, “are they mad?”

“‘course not.” miles clicks his tongue, gently admonishing, like it’s a fact hobie should know by now; his fingers trace gentle circles into hobie’s skin. “just worried. hope you know my mama’s gonna feed you thrice the usual serving of tres leches when we get back.”

that gets a chuckle out of him at least, but the look on jeff’s face still haunts him, burned front and centre into his mind’s eye like an afterimage. “and your dad?” he feels miles go still, doesn’t resist as his boyfriend pulls back to look hobie in the eye. his voice is terribly gentle.

“he understands. it’s okay.”

hobie doesn’t think it’s okay. it doesn’t feel very okay. jeff had disliked him at first and reasonably so; he’s nothing like a person anyone would want their kid to be with.

and yet the captain had let him into their home, accepted him as miles’s person, given him a place at the table. of course rio would have sat him down and shoved food into his hands regardless, but still—

“hobie.”

miles calls his attention back, and he looks up into wide, dark eyes. his heart burns.

“he knows what you’ve been through. he knows how much you’ve grown.” miles huffs a soft laugh, rubbing his thumb against hobie’s hairline. “do you remember that time we went to your concert?”

hobie nods; he doesn’t think he can speak just yet.

“you were so nervous about what he would think, but he was stressing about looking like an old man in front of your friends. he literally said that as your boyfriend’s dad he had to out-hip all the other guys his age.”

something twists in hobie’s chest. “he’s the coolest old man i know.” he pauses, frowning. “maybe after peter b.”

miles laughs again, quietly. “he cares about you.”

hobie doesn’t doubt that. he’d let jeff and rio learn about him piece by piece, and with every sliver of information jeff had softened more; he might be the captain of the PDNY, but he was also a father.

hobie’s never really had a father.

not until he was asked about whether he preferred waffles or pancakes. until he was consulted for advice on what to wear to a pride parade. until jeff only looked at his blue laces with a tentative expression and he was hesitantly slipped a phone number to call if he ever got into trouble in this dimension that he couldn’t get himself out of, a helpline should he ever need it.

so he gets up, takes a deep breath and hauls miles to his feet. his boots clomp down the stairs; he takes care not to fling open the door and when he sees jeff and rio hovering in the living room, he holds out his arms.

rio reaches him first. she’s shorter but fierce, pulling hobie down to hug him tight, and he feels like crying again.

miles slips close to cling to his back, arms sliding around his waist, and hobie watches jeff meet his eyes with something almost anxious.

hobie’s lips twist in a smile. an i’m sorry and an it’s okay wrapped in one.

and maybe it really is okay, because when jeff comes around to squeeze them all together, hobie can’t help his relieved sigh as he thinks, this is what family’s supposed to feel like, certain as the next deep breath he takes and comforting like the broad hand that squeezes his shoulder.

fin.

#punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #across the spiderverse #atsv #flowerpunk #miles x hobie #spiderverse #i love them so fucking much #jeff and rio care so much for this scrawny boy their son loves #hobie’s probably never had a proper father figure but as soon as jeff accepts him BAM #he’s getting dragged into talk about football and elections and the system #and he’s absolutely gobsmacked bcs jeff CARES about his opinion #rio and miles are peeking at them from around the corner and high-fiving

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 8

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!Reader

A/N: Writing Nesta post-acosf is so confusing so I apologise if she’s a little ooc!

Word Count: 5,552

-Part 7- -🌌🌠- -Part 9-

It’s been while since you last ate with all of them.

Even so, the atmosphere is familiar. Jovial. Pleasant enough you can allow yourself to slip into spectation, vanishing in your mind’s eyes, becoming an observer without presence. Shadows flicker at the corner of your vision, and you’re brought back down to reality.

The restaurant lights are warm and yellowy, a magic barrier constructed at the room’s border to keep the temperature pleasantly mild, inky darkness swirling just beyond the threshold. Candles flicker, almost in time with his shadows. It’s hard to tell when natural darkness ends and his begins. But he doesn’t really like it when people stare at them, so you avert your eyes. Scratch the backs of your hands beneath the table, softened a little by cream.

By what you can only assume was a stroke of bad luck—or good, depending how you want to feel for the rest of the night—everyone had already settled into the dinner by the time you arrived, leaving a single seat open. Yes, you could’ve pulled over a chair, or requested one to be magically summoned, but that would be drawing attention to the issue, which would undoubtedly make the ineffable off-ness of your relationship with him that much more blatant.

So there he is, a steady presence to your left, situated at one end of the table. Elain to your right. How unfortunate. Or lucky, depending on the angle.

Take a sip of your water, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth. Lean slightly over to your sister. “Have I missed anything?” Cocoa flick to you, warm and soft in the mellow light, a little tired. Half-circles beneath her eyes. “Nothing much. I was planning on visiting Lucien again—hopefully within the week.” She answers mildly, a faint smile in her eyes. “There’s also a possibility of Nesta going over to have a look at the libraries in the Day Court.”

“Woah,” you mumble. “Looking for anything in particular, or simply for recreation?”

Elain shrugs, eyes flicking across the table. “Ask her,” she says simply.

Spine stiffens.

With fae hearing, plus the close proximity, there’s a high chance everyone heard that exchange. Refusing to do so will only draw more attention. You shoot Elain a reproachful look for putting you in this situation but she smiles encouragingly.

You find the elegant shape of your eldest sister a little further down the table—across and two over. Opposite Cassian who is beside Elain. Sharp eyes flit to your own a second after you’ve sought her out—she definitely heard. At least you didn’t vocalise any dismay over the forced interaction.

“Day Court?” You inquire, raising your brows in interest. She nods, lips parting in a smile, “quite the trip, isn’t it.” You laugh—trying to remember where the Day Court is in conjunction with Night. Come up short. “Already read through all the books here?” You reply, trying to keep the conversation fluid. Gaze absently flicks over the various plates and trays of food, picking out the things you’d like to try. A waft of something delicious floats down the table—a covered bowl sits between Rhys and Feyre. Soup, most likely. It has your mouth watering from the scent alone. Would be divine with some buttered bread.

“Nowhere near,” she responds, still smiling. “But there’s a particular author we’re after, and I’d like to see if I can find more of his books in those libraries.” You hum, nodding your head in acknowledgement. “Different from The Runaway?” She blinks, then nods, “you’ve read it already?”

“Yeah. Finished it last week,” you answer, peering at the dishes closer to you, wonder what you can pick. It’s mostly meat. Some roast potatoes, poultry next along covered in an orange-red sauce that smells spicy.

“What did you think?” She asks, carefully ladling gravy to the edge of her own plate. It’s your turn to blink, recalling the story to the forefront of your mind. Exhale heavily, leaning back into the chair. “I don’t know, really,” you admit honestly, “there was a lot in it, I suppose. I’m still digesting it, in a way. Do you know what I mean?” She nods, eyes softening at the edges—you’ve said the right thing. “I think there’s a lot in it; a lot happened to him, and I think it did a good job on highlighting how perspective can be manipulated. I also like how the creature was only alluded to in earlier chapters while the first part of the plot was unfolding so you end up overlooking it?”

She gracefully cuts through a potato, dipping it in the gravy before neatly depositing it in her mouth. Elegant and refined. “Yes, I thought that was an interesting way of telling his story. The complications between Yvette and Hans helped with the initial distraction, I think.” Lips twists into a slight frown. “The section—I think around chapter seventeen? Eighteen…?” You pause, picturing how far through the book it was, then shake your head. “Around there, anyway. The section about those lights in the sky?— I had to put the book down for a bit.” You admit, smiling as you recall the passage.

Nesta nods her head. “I couldn’t believe it, either. I think I actually had to stand up and get myself another cup of tea to calm down when he connected the dots.” A grin parts your lips wider, skin warming at the memory. “Anyway,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “a different author.”

She nods in confirmation, “a different author.”

“Romance?” You ask, remembering her appreciation for the genre.

Something passes through the room, hairs slowly raising at the back of your neck. Eyes slide to Elain, but she’s conversing with Cassian, attention shifted away from you. Gaze flicks back to Nesta who has a tight smile on her lips—it’s still odd to see her smiling so openly and frequently.

“No, actually,” she begins slowly, cutlery lowering to her plate. Her fingers remain pressed tight to the metal. “It’s a spell-book,” she says, silvery-blue eyes gleaming like moonlight despite the warm glow about the private space. Brow furrows a little as you peer at her across the table, “a spell-book?” You ask. “What do you need a spell-book for?” Her spine straightens, attention moving to her meal as she slices into some meat, mouth opening to continue.

“The baby warrior’s been having doubts about his wingspan, I’ll bet,” Amren croons from across the table, snatching your attention. Your brow dips further, eyes now shifting to find Cassian further down the table—the other side of Elain. He seems fine, laughing brightly. “Is there a problem with them?” You ask Nesta, remembering how torn up they’d been after the mess with Hybern and the cauldron.

She shakes her head, lips lifting into a grin as she meets Amren’s steel-coloured eyes. “She’s just jealous,” Nesta returns, “Varian not treating you well?” Sharp eyes flash with challenge. “Maybe they should compare notes. I’m sure your mate could learn a thing or two,” she taunts, effectively ending your conversation with Nesta. A part of you wants to learn more—your natural inclination—but Amren’s whisked her away into conversation, Mor stuck between them.

Attention again flits to Elain, but she’s still contained in conversation with Cassian, leaving only the keen pair of eyes on your left to entertain yourself with. Raise the glass to your lips, forcing down a mouthful of the alcohol, ignoring the light pulsing in the forefront of your head. Skin prickles beneath his attention, fingers shifting over your cutlery as you move to take food to your plate.

It seems rude to interrupt Elain’s conversation—you always go to her first. She speaks to people other than you, and probably enjoys doing so. You should leave her to enjoy the night. Take another drink of the clear liquid, shadows flickering in your peripherals as you set your sights on Nesta. Wait for an opening.

“What do you want the spell-book for?” You ask, feigning ignorance to their conversation. As if the question just appeared on your tongue, falling out before you could stop it. Two sets of sharp eyes cut to you, a single set of caramel flicking to steel warily. “A containment spell,” Nesta answers, slicing up some vegetables on her plate. “To bind.”

Amren’s lip curls into a distinctly predatory grin, almost warning. “Needing to spice things up so early in your relationship?” She croons. “I would have given it at least another few months before you two were in need of a bonding activity.” A fourth pair of eyes joins the discussion though he’s still wrapped in his own exchange. The hazel to your left has probably been observing for some time, too.

Nesta offers the petite female a tight smile, equally warning. Mor claps her hands, hastily breaking up the exchange. “Will you pass that down? Cass, be a dear and— no, next to it— the other side—yes! Thank you!” You watch slightly enviously as she ladles soup into a bowl, taking a slice of fluffy bread and slathering butter over its surface. Trace the soup as it’s returned to its place at the far end of the table, between Rhys and Feyre, one seat down from Nesta and Cassian.

And just like that, dialogue ebbs and flows around, leaving you with no way in. You’re quite glad for the reprieve. These dinners generally leave you in need of a weeks sleep to recover, by which point the next one is already scheduled. Exhausting. You don’t know how they manage it. Attention is still weighing on you as you raise your cutlery, poised to begin slicing into the meat upon your plate.

Elain is still preoccupied—to your steadily growing dismay. Nesta and Amren are locked in a verbal sparring match, while Mor chimes in here and there, occasionally attempting to rope Cassian in, too. Just to stir things up. Shadows flicker in the background.

His attention is becoming difficult to ignore. Clear your throat softly, focusing on cutting through the meat, slicing it into bitesized chunks. “Is something the matter, Azriel?” Shift the cutlery in your hands, easing up the pressure on your knuckles from the effort of cutting. He watches silently, his own plate clean and empty.

“Not at all,” he replies quietly, voice unliltling and void of inflection. Your brow twitches toward the centre, neatly spearing a chunk of flesh. Swallow in preparation. “Nothing?” You question, equally softly, biting down on the dead animal. It comes apart easily on your tongue, softened in a skillet somewhere, bathed in oils and rosemary, sprinkled with salts and spices. Force yourself to chew and swallow. “Nothing,” he repeats back, hazel eyes resting on your jaw, flicking to meet your gaze.

Finish your mouthful, move to the next sliver. Spike it on your fork. Half raise it from the plate then stop, lowering it quietly. “What are you watching?” You ask, eyes flicking down to your plate, skipping away from his. “Many things,” he answers vaguely. Shadows flicker at his back, wreathing his wings, tucking behind them. “I’d rather not be part of those things,” you murmur, finally biting down on the tender flesh. Chew enough so it’s digestible, then swallow. Think about nice things, like the books at the house, golden eyes, and dried flowers. “You’re in public,” he replies, tone still without inflection. “That’s an impossible request.”

Three pieces left, and it’ll be done.

“You can look elsewhere instead of staring a hole in my head,” you murmur. “Maybe,” you add hastily, softening the sharp suggestion. These situations always put you a little on edge. So many people.

He’s quiet for a bit, but his attention doesn’t shift, despite his gaze moving to be further down the table. You manage another chunk of meat, teeth dully masticating as you grind the flesh down, focusing on the herbs and spices in place of the ashen, earthy flavour of the animal carcass.

Azriel’s attention weighs into you, skin prickling, hairs raising at the back of your neck as you try to ignore it. It’s probably being exacerbated by your imagination. Raise the fifth and final piece to your mouth, thinking about rotating planets and cocoa, of whiskey and caramel as your teeth bite and chew absently. He’s still observing; you shift in your chair, swallowing the mouthful. Reach for your glass, gulp down the clear liquid.

Nearly choke, the alcohol burning your throat. Nose scrunches before you can help it, covering your mouth with the napkin while you cough as quietly as possible. Elain pats you on the back making you smile as you overcome the initial shock. “Something go down the wrong way?” She asks, lips curving in a grin she’s clearly attempting to suppress in favour of a more sympathetic expression. Puts those attempts to rest when you laugh quietly, nodding to the liquid. “Too eager,” you whisper, refolding the napkin. Elain covers her own mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled mirth; you shoot her a playful glare.

Mor, sitting opposite Elain; beside Nesta, breaks from her conversation with the two, attention flitting to you, as if she had been lying in wait for her chance. “So!” She says, golden hair shining resplendent beneath the glow, like a flame encased in honey. “When shall we go shopping?” Her hands clap together, red lips parting in a friendly smile.

Oh.

You’d blessedly forgotten that promise of hers.

Swallow uneasily. “It’s fine… The polish and lip tint were lovely,” you smile, hoping she’ll leave it be. “Nonsense,” she chirps, collecting a few more roast potatoes onto her plate, Amren gingerly taking a few after her, nose almost wrinkling with suspicion. “You love books, and I apparently need a reason to spend time with you, so a shopping trip is perfect!” You offer her what you hope is a steady smile, one that disguises the strain you’re feeling, “I don’t want to be a bother—it’s fine, really. There are plenty of books in the library, anyway, and I’ve barely made it through the first two levels.”

Brows shoot up to her hairline. “Every book? You’ve been reading all of them?” You blink at her surprise, then hesitantly dip your head. Anxiety bubbles in your stomach, hands gripping one another as tension slices through your shoulders. “Are they— Am I not supposed to?”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. Read away!” She laughs, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “I hadn’t expected your interests to be so different, is all,” she smiles. “I tried to read a couple from the library when I was younger and nearly bored myself to tears.” You smile faintly, relaxing back into your chair. “I guess they’re not for everyone,” you reply, posture softening against the back of your seat.

Mor laughs, the sound like wind chimes caught on a stray breeze, golden hair glinting in the warm light. You have to look away. It feels wrong to even look at her—to try and place her individual beauties. Peer down at your empty plate, hunger gnawing at your stomach lining. You should have remembered to eat before coming along.

“So what about tomorrow?” She asks, dipping buttered bread into her bowl. Raise your head to look at her, confusion lining your brows. She smiles easily, “for a shopping trip, of course.”

“Not every creature enjoys being put through your endless chatter, Mor,” Amren snipes from her side. The blonde female pouts, throwing a glare to the petite Fae on her right.

Warm toffee eyes flick to cocoa, brightening with an idea, “Elain could come along too!” Spine goes rigid, every ounce of willpower straining to keep from glancing to your left, wondering what he’s thinking. Swallow heavily, stiffening as your older sister is brought into the discussion. Mor smiles eagerly, “what do you say, Elain? Fancy a shopping trip tomorrow?”

Nails slice into your palms, piercing small crescent shapes into your skin—you’ve been trying not to bite them. Press further back into your seat, muscles coiling with anxiety. Not both of them.

You can practically feel the moment steely silver eyes pick up on your reluctance, like she has a sixth sense for picking at scabs. But Elain sighs apologetically, “that would be lovely, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time.” Relief washes over your skin, bathed in a cool breeze. “I told you so,” Amren snickers to the blonde female.

Mor’s brows dip together, “oh, piss off Amren. I know you like picking out clothes to wear for Varian with me.” The cunning female raises her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies smoothly, Mor’s lips twitching at the obvious denial.

Turn to Elain, taking in the natural glow of her features. “Have plans?” You ask quietly, hand absently resting over your stomach. Involuntarily glance at the soup further up the table, tongue flicking out over your lips. She shakes her head, softly curled silky hair cascading over her slim shoulders. In your peripherals, you can make out how shadows stretch across the table, reaching. “I’ve been dreadfully tired lately,” she admits, equally hushed.

Brow furrows in concern, about to ask further, but Mor’s on you again. “Guess it’ll just be us tomorrow!” She smiles genuinely, excited for the plans. When you glance sidelong at your sister, she’s already settled back into conversation with Cassian, your youngest sister and her mate joining in. You nod in surrender, accepting it’s something that has to happen. It would be overtly rude to decline her invitation now.

“Great! We can squeeze in a lunch, too,” she grins, washing down the soup with a glassful of wine. “Maybe you can direct me to some of the more interesting library books,” she suggests, eyes sparking with excitement. You nod again, fatigue beginning to weigh on your shoulders. It’s nice watching them, but you frequently forget how draining it is to be involved.

Lean back into your chair, pulling your stomach in as you feel pressure grow—you’d die of embarrassment if it started growling. Hastily drink some more in attempts to fill it up. Hungrily eye the plates of food. Maybe the poultry wouldn’t be too bad with the sauce—chicken was hard to come by all those years ago.

A delicious scent catches your attention, shadows skittering away as he silently ladles soup into his bowl. Nobody asks about the shuffling round of plates. Stomach rumbles and you flush, hands clamping over your stomach as humiliation burns along your skin. Mouth almost watering, but you force yourself to wait; appear only mildly interested in the food. An appropriate amount of attention for a dinner.

His hand knocks into the bowl, pushing it aside to make room for another dish, so it’s to his right. Almost subtle enough to appear accidental.

Still, you finally help yourself to the soup, equal parts affection and shame weighing in your gut.

————

The night air is crisp and cool, soothing the warmth of your skin as you follow quietly a way behind the group.

Feyre and Rhys have already made their way home, not liking to spend too long away from Nyx, despite knowing he’s well cared for. There seems to be discussion ahead of taking things further for the night, perhaps more drinking.

After having left the restaurant, Nesta had sought you out. You’d been surprised to say the least—a little on edge—but it had been nothing to worry about. She’d merely extended an invitation for you to join her on their trip to the Day Court. Perhaps to seek out some books you’d been interested in, she’d suggested.

You’d politely declined.

Now you turn to Elain, the darkness bringing out the slight dip below her eyes. “You okay?” You ask, the chatter of the streets soothing background noise. Fading to a constant hum in the back of your mind, falling into the empty recesses. She nods, sighing heavily. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” she replies quietly. “And, I’ve…” shakes her head. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” she sighs again. “You always were more prone to sickness than the rest of us,” you reply, nudging her shoulder playfully.

She smiles gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Maybe I’ll come and cough on you so you get ill for once,” she grins.

Nose wrinkles as you smile, “gross.” She laughs at that, then the two of you fall quiet, walking together in companionable silence. Trudging your way back to the River House, keeping fairly close to the main group who are still deciding whether or not to turn in for the evening.

You know you’ll be heading back to the House of Wind for the night.

Curious to see if a response has been written.

————

The House is quiet. Halls empty and silent as you pad down the corridor to your room.

Maybe you should check with Nesta whether she wants you to move out of here—switch to the River House. Anxiety slices at your gut, fatigue weighing your eyelids at the thought. You’re sure she’ll say something if she wants you out. You aren’t keen to initiate conversation with her unless necessary.

When you enter your room, candles are already lit, courtesy of the House. A few clothes lay on the floor, but it’s mostly clear. Almost tidy.

Parchment rests across your desk, and you eagerly hurry over.

Nothing has been added.

Excitement dies away, scratching at the backs of your hands absently.

Wearily take a seat, playing with the pen between your fingers, chewing on your lower lip. Debating the merits of bothering him when he’s taken no interest in your last comment.

Toss the thoughts out your window, throwing all caution to the wind.

Long day?

Bite down on your tongue, pulling at the top most layer of skin until you bleed. Wait for the paper to disappear. Seconds tick by, counting as they drain away. Steadily turning into minutes. Lean your cheek on the table, slumping forward as boredom creeps in, the pendant clunking as it hits the wooden surface of the table.

Do you remember your twenty-first birthday?

You aren’t particularly sure where the question comes from. Maybe the still-boxed jigsaw puzzle sitting atop a dusty stack of books has something to do with it.

Paper vanishes, and you perk up, straightening in your chair, fingers flexing. Excitement stirring in your chest. Absently reach for a pot of cream, unscrewing the lid as you trace the desiccated skin of your knuckles. Slowly soothe it in, rub the dips between your fingers, pretending your hands are someone else’s.

Parchment reappears, having you eagerly lean forward.

No.

You scowl at the curt response, twiddling the pen in your hands.

Sour and miserable indeed. Were my earlier questions not interesting enough to deign a response?

Letter vanishes, your feet tapping against the floor, fidgeting with the writing instrument. Turn to the anthology as you usually end up doing while waiting for his reply. Flip to the page you’d bookmarked, removing the silver embossed fabric. Lips quirk when you spot the title: Explosions: Rapid Division.

Shift the book so it’s in the centre of your desk, reading the introductory passage, instinctively scanning the diagrams with intrigue. Paper reappears atop the pages.

You forget I am a high-ranking individual with a multitude of tasks to attend to. I don’t get to spend my days simply lying around to pester the only person who’ll give me a scrap of attention.

Cheeks heat with embarrassment, yet you find yourself smiling at the familiar sharpness of his tongue. Ease out a deep breath, relaxing into your chair, flicking the pen in your dry fingers before lowering it to the parchment.

I think if you truly felt pestered, you wouldn’t be responding at all. Feeling lonely over there, Eris?

The paper vanishes, and you treat yourself to an image of his brows narrowing, lip curling as ire blazes in caramel eyes. Mouth widens into a smile as your feet tip-tap on the floor-boards, absently dipping your finger tips into the pot of cream again, putting more over the roughness of your skin as you wait patiently.

Parchment reappears, heartbeat picking up with excitement.

And what about yourself? The hell-cat is leaving for quite a while, isn’t she?

Lips part on a sharp exhale, spine straightening as your eyes flick about the room anxiously. How does he know that? Should you tell someone? Brow narrows in concentration, mind scrambling to think up a response that won’t give anything away, without sounding so vague he knows you’re avoiding the question. Swallow heavily, rubbing in the last of the cream, reaching for your pen. Lower it to the desk, and falter. What do you say? Is feigning ignorance too obvious?

The letter vanishes before you’ve had a chance to even put a speck of ink upon it, and it dawns on you that the question was timed. Picture the way his lips part is a slow smile as he sees the blank paper.

Manipulative bastard.

I suppose she’ll be taking the brute with her, too?

Fingers tighten on the pen, teeth grinding. Is this why he warned you about Eris? Because of how quickly he can extract information through carefully assembling pieces? Jaw tenses, but more silence will be confirmation.

How do you know any of that?

Chew on your lower lip as you await his reply, heart pounding. Azriel would be furious. Swallow down the nausea, teeth sliding beneath your nails—toeing the line of biting down, but restraining yourself.

Really, how do you think Court politics works? Of course we keep tabs on one another. I’m sure your shadowsinger has plenty of spies littered throughout Prythian. Possibly further, too.

Blood ices, peering down at your necklace and the map contained within. Imagining how wide his net must be to thread throughout it all. How much work it must take to keep everything running. Ruthless discipline. How tiring it must be. The weight, the pressure to keep it all maintained.

Head beginnings swimming at the thought of it. Would you even be able to keep up with him?

Why are you telling me this?

The pen scratches over the parchment, struggling to keep lines clean through the slight tremor in your hands. You can’t even begin to comprehend how much work must regularly go into sustaining such a network.

It’s a little embarrassing that you don’t already know. What are they teaching you over there? How to be an emotional burden?

The words hit sharp in your chest, hooks latching into the soft, vascular muscle of your heart. Poised to shred in an instant. Awaiting for the split second of weakness to rip. Rupture the organ in a clean tear.

Fear spikes.

I understand why your brother wants nothing to do with you if that’s how you speak with people.

The words are stamped into the page before you have time to reason it out. Blood rushes round your ears, wincing as your fingertips burn with the faint embers of power that have begun sparking up every now and again. Preemptively reach for the hand cream, preparing to soothe the itch once it fully manifests.

He’ll read into that comment. You know he will. Read between the lines to figure out just how much that one stung.

Parchment reappears and you warily lean forward, eyes skimming the clean script.

I’d been wondering where you kept your lovely claws, cygnet.

I didn’t mean to write that.

Wipe hands on your skirts, anxiety kicking up in the pit of your stomach. Roiling with worry.

You knew perfectly well what you were doing. You simply despise the way you are.

Has anyone else commented on how similar you are to Nesta Archeron?

Heart sinks to your stomach, biting on your tongue until you taste copper. Dislike how deep he’s wormed his way already. How did things go from light-hearted sparring matches to full scale battle in so few conversations?

And what about you? You write, mimicking his earlier diversion. Do your brothers share your affinity for poisoned words?

The parchment vanishes for a while this time, though you don’t even try to distract yourself with the anthology. Leg taps anxiously, trying to rub cream into your hands, hoping if it’s done tonight, they won’t ache tomorrow. The last thing you need right now is another flare up. Try to focus on the scent—light and sweet. Like gardenias and sugar.

Your attempts to redirect are as graceful as the first steps of a freshly birthed hound. Perhaps once you settle into your skin you’ll become more skilled at deflecting uncomfortable topics.

Skin prickles, hairs standing on end as you again raise the pen in hand. Considering routes to return to earlier discussions that weren’t so intrusive.

Alternatively, you could choose lighter conversation starters. For example, why did you send the anthology?

Certainly not the most succinct switch in direction, but better than continuing down that path. Ease a breath into your lungs once the paper vanishes, reminding yourself you don’t have to reply to him. At any point, you’re free to leave. Lean back in your chair, stretching out your limbs, muscles spasming and aching in your shoulders, fingers trembling as bones click in your spine. Deflate into the seat, muscles relaxing all at once.

You haven’t noticed anything yet?

Brows furrow, peering at the volume. Close it and flip it over—nothing on the back. Reopen it to the contents page, peering at the compilation of titles, authors, and page numbers. Scan the introductory section again, searching for anything to give you a hint at what he’s talking about.

(Writing about.)

I’m mildly concerned to ask? You write, keeping the conversation light, steering away from the earlier topics. Hoping he’ll keep away from family-related chatter.

Then read away.

Heart spikes at the ominous reply. What the hell is he talking about?

Eris, are you serious?

Paper vanishes, reappearing moments later.

Nothing but.

Roll your eyes at the response, but again set pen to paper.

If you were a human, you’d be riddled in various worry-marks by now. Does that thought upset you?

Lips quirk faintly, hoping it irritates him sufficiently.

Is this how you cope with discomfort? Pretending it away? Making light of it?

Damn him.

Instead of…?

Instead of hiding like a coward. Your blithe little act is growing dreadfully monotonous.

Straighten in your chair, shifting uncomfortably. Are you boring? Is that it? Is that the whole reason he…

Do fae have milestone dates like humans do? You said you don’t remember your twenty-first.

Paper disappears, and you become aware of the tension coiling in your shoulders. Maybe you should turn in for the night. Writing to him is supposed to be fun, not make you feel so…

Squirm uncomfortably, slouching in the seat. Crick your neck, releasing built up pressure, stretching your toes. Move to blow out the candles, but the letter reappears.

You really are turning out to be quite dull.

Brows scrunch with hurt, then even out. It’s ridiculous to be upset over behaviour he’s made no effort to hide. You shouldn’t be surprised he’s not changing, yet you had hoped…

Swallow, then sigh, the pen feeling heavy in your hand.

And you’re unnecessarily barbed.

(Who taught you to be that way, Eris?)

(Am I going to grow up to be like you?)

Paper vanishes, but you find yourself awaiting a reply. Marinating in your room while your lids grow heavier, shoulders slumping with fatigue, the base of your spine beginning to ache.

Stand from your desk, eyes flicking unwillingly to your nightstand, a small, royal blue gift box sat neatly atop it. The tule bow as resplendent as ever—shifting between vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

(Sometimes, when it gets particularly bad, I like to look at it before I go to sleep. Fantasise about being the female he likes, instead of the one I am.)

(Sometimes, when I want to indulge in misery, I like to imagine dressing up for him. Imagine him telling me how pretty I am, imagine him sliding the golden hooks into pointed ears.)

(Sometimes I imagine.)

(Sometimes I imagine, because it’s the closest to reality I’ll ever get.)

Hear the distinct sound of paper on the table, and you still. End up turning anyway. Move over to your desk, reading the message.

You can do better.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Slump into the seat, head tipping back, staring up at the ceiling. Arms fall dully to your sides, too tired to feel anything.

Sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand in favour of pulling away your clothes. Rid yourself of every constraint, pendant clunking on the bedside table.

The same-old, off-white cotton night gown swallows you, falling to your ankles as you settle into the mattress.

And to think, you’d been considering asking what things were like in his court.

How nice it might have been to make a trip of your own.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel angst #azriel acotar #CBMTHY #azriel x reader angst #CBMTHY Chapter 8

[training4theapocalypse]

Never Been Kissed (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: SMUT, Second chance romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: You're a PI who joins the 11th Street Kids after a chance meeting with John Economos on the dark web. Unfortunately for you, your ex-friend-with-benefits Vigilante is here too. (Based on this ask by anon)

A/N: This took a hot minute. The M&Ms were originally cigarettes but these days I'm a healthy queen free of nicotine -purr.

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Chapter text:

The dim fire exit sign outside the back of the abandoned video store flickers as you suck a peanut M&M between your tongue and the roof of your mouth anxiously. You hope your contact hurries the fuck up - if he makes you wait any longer you’ll finish an entire party bag from nervousness.

It was stupid, really, even reckless, to meet a stranger from the dark web. But when some guy called TechConomos_11 had responded to you in a chat room where you were discussing the intel you had on some sinister goings-on in Evergreen, you knew you had to meet him and his team.

Because you’ll be damned if anyone catches the escaped gorilla before you.

There’s a clink of a padlock and chain falling to the floor, the sound of a heavy emergency exit bar being pushed down and when the door opens you’re face to face with a large, bearded man wearing glasses. 

“Are you the PI?”

If you had to draw a sketch of what you thought a guy you met on the dark web would look like, he would be it. Not a neckbeard, exactly, just someone with the distinct aura of having too much time spent in front of a screen.

You nod. “TechConomos?”

“Call me John. Come inside - the team’s all here.”

You shove the half-empty pack of M&Ms into your bag and he leads you through to the back office. 

“This is Murn, Harcourt and Adebayo.” He gestures to his three associates sitting in the office who each acknowledge you in turn. “And these guys-”

“Fuck it! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

The yelling draws your attention to the window separating the office from the rest of the video store and it’s like a knife in your gut when you see him.

Vigilante.

“Ugh, fuck! It hurts to walk!” Vigilante whines as he limps around. He turns to pace some more but stops in his tracks in alarm when he sees you. He immediately dives to the floor, launching himself behind a desk in a futile attempt to hide.

Vigilante is the last person you expected to - or wanted to - see here. It’s not his usual MO - normally he’d be out hunting thugs and drug dealers. What was he doing caught up in this operation with some tech guy and a team who you suspected were either current or former soldiers?

There’s a roaring laugh and your eyes find Peacemaker, doubled over in his chair, laughing like an idiot at Vigilante sprawled on the ground. 

That explains Vigilante’s involvement. Looks like his idol, Peacemaker, is finally out of prison and the first thing he does is rope Vigilante into whatever this is. The whole thing stinks. Why is there an entire team with two capes looking for an escaped zoo animal? Any why did one of those capes have to be Vigilante? 

You close your eyes and groan. “You didn’t tell me you were working with them.”

“You know each other?” asks Harcourt.

“Just Vigilante.” You sigh and follow them into the video store.

“Hey, asshole,” you say, peering over the desk Vigilante is hidden behind. He looks up at you and props his masked head up on his arm casually as if you didn’t just see him throw himself there a second ago.

“Oh, hey!” he says, feigning pleasant surprise.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I hurt my pinky toe.”

“Yeah? Which one?” You walk around the desk and stand at his feet to get a better look.

“Nononono! Wait!”

You clock the way his visor-covered eyes dart down to his right foot in panic. 

“Woah, did you think I was gonna kick you or something?” Sure, you have beef but you’re kind of offended he’d think that you’d harm him on purpose.

“No…” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes and sit on the hard wooden surface, turning away from him to face the team.

“Who the fuck is this?” Peacemaker asks Murn before looking between you and Vigilante. “Do you two know each other or something?”

You don’t deign to reply.

There’s a squeak of a chair being dragged on linoleum as Vigilante pulls himself up onto a seat next to Peacemaker with a wince.

“Economos says you want to join the team,” says Murn. 

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I know everything that goes on in Evergreen.”

“And?”

“I have information and skills that I want money for. Obviously.”

“How much?”

You were talking about splitting the reward for the gorilla but Murn’s expectant look makes it clear this is a contract. What’s that saying again? A contract in the hand is worth a gorilla in the bush? … Something like that.

“Well, what are you paying him?” You cast your eyes at Vigilante who shrugs. Unbelievable. “They’re not paying you? Idiot.”

Murn and Harcourt glance at each other awkwardly. “This is strictly off the books,” says Murn.

“So you were just going to take advantage of him? No way. I want my pay backdated for all the intell I’ve found for you. And his too for whatever it is he’s doing for you.”

“How do you guys know each other?” asks John, pulling up a chair behind his laptop.

You look at Vigilante warningly and answer before he can open his fat mouth. “I’ve sent some work his way once or twice. And compensated him fairly for it,” you add pointedly.

“Oh, they’ve definitely fucked,” laughs Peacemaker.

“Shouldn’t you be in Belle Reve?” You glare at him.

Peacemaker ignores the question. “Did he keep the mask on with you too?” He pouts faux-sympathetically.

This catches you off-guard. Not Vigilante and Peacemaker fucking - Vigilante is so obsessed with him that you guessed it was only a matter of time.

But he did keep his mask on.

Vigilante groans and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring determinedly at his injured foot.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Enough!” Murn gives Peacemaker a severe look before turning his attention back to you. “John says you know the location of what we’re looking for.”

“I’m not telling you until you get me up to speed with what you’ve got so far. John wouldn’t tell me shit online. Call it a show of good faith.”

“And we’re supposed to just take your word that you actually have useful information?” asks Adebayo.

John opens his mouth to reply but Vigilante beats him to the punch.

“She knows,” says Vigilante, finally looking up. “She’s… she’s a good PI. If she says she knows, she knows.”

“Well, we can’t divulge state secrets just because Vigilante vouches for you. Tell us the ‘where’ and if it checks out - you’re in,” says Harcourt.

You look around at this unlikely group. If you want to catch the gorilla you need their help. You need their weapons. You need their money.

“It’s at the Glan Tai bottling plant. You heard of it?”

“Pulling it up now…” John types on his keyboard. “It makes sense, Murn. They’ve got the production, the distribution channels… This is probably it.”

Distribution channels? What’s the gorilla at Glan Tai got to do with distribution? 

You keep your face neutral - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this job, it’s when to sit back, shut up and listen.

You try to piece things together as Murn talks about ‘butterflies’ and their ‘food source’. Economos checks highway CCTV footage and confirms that your intel is correct. This is extremely lucky for you because you’re clearly talking about two entirely different things. You wonder if these ‘butterflies’ are some kind of parasite-induced sleeper agent. And maybe the food source is a drug to release them from their fugue state?

“...And the gorilla?” you ask eventually.

“What about the gorilla?” asks Harcourt.

“The gorilla is at Glan Tai.”

“There’s a Butterfly gorilla?” asks Vigilante excitedly. “That is so cool!”

“Is that even possible?” Harcourt asks Murn who nods.

You’ve seen some shit but a gorilla sleeper agent takes the fucking cake. They all seem totally unfazed so you pretend to be too.

“So, what’s our next move? When do we start killing these aliens?” asks Peacemaker.

Aliens.

You discreetly scan the others. Nobody else bats an eyelid at Peacemaker’s use of that word. 

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

“You two get some rest, come back tonight,” says Murn to Peacemaker and Vigilante. “And you - you’ve got evidence of what we’re doing here?” There’s no point in lying so you nod. “Bring it back here so we can destroy it. All of it.”

You, Peacemaker and Vigilante, leave the video store. You cross the street to get to your car but Vigilante calls your name. You turn around to see him hurriedly limping over while Peacemaker climbs into the Vigilantemobile.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re part of the team now.”

“I can’t return the sentiment.” You scowl at him. Peacemaker beeps the horn of Vigilante’s car. “You’d better hurry up - you don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.”

“We’re not in a relationship. You know I only wanted to be with-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“C’mon, can’t you at least tell me why you stopped answering my calls?”

“I already told you - I’m not going to wait around my entire life for a guy who won’t even show me his face. Or tell me his real name.”

“I can’t -”

“Save your excuses for someone who gives a shit.” Peacemaker blasts the horn again. “At least I know you keep the mask on when you fuck him too. It’s not like he’s seen your face.”

Vigilante’s visor-covered eyes avoid contact with yours. His hesitation is like a punch in the gut. 

“He’s seen your face?” You don’t mean to whisper it. The words just spill from your lips like you’ve been winded.

“Not like that. That was just a meaningless threesome-”

“But he’s seen it?”

He nods.

You push him aside to throw your car door open and get in. “Fuck you, V.” You slam it shut and drive away, not even bothering to glance at him standing haplessly in your rearview mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, you and John cross-check your intel. It’s becoming clear that this is way out of your fucking league. But if Vigilante can do it, you can too.

Right?

“You want some peanut M&Ms?”.

He accepts a handful gladly. “Why is so much of this about the fucking gorilla?” John asks with his mouth full, looking over your shoulder at your laptop screen.

The necessity of any quick thinking on your part is interrupted when you hear Murn’s voice ringing from the back office.

“You told Vigilante to kill Peacemaker's father?!” 

You and John drop what you’re doing and peer tentatively around the door of the office where Murn is berating Adebayo.

“I didn't tell him to… I just kinda put the idea in his head,” she explains.

“That Peacemaker would be better off without his father?”

Oh no.

“Where’s Vigilante?” you ask suspiciously, joining Murn as he stands with his arms crossed. He looks furious.

“He’s in jail,” mumbles Adebayo. “I might have suggested that if someone were to go in and kill Peacemaker’s dad, all our problems would go away.”

You run your hands through your hair.

“How could you manipulate him like that?” Your combat boots squeak on the floor as you pace across it, catastrophising aloud. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Vigilante is very fucking easy to manipulate. And he has a record. What if he kills someone in prison and gets locked up for life? Or what if he gets himself killed trying?”

“Peacemaker’s gonna see right through this. He’ll know exactly what you tried to do,” says Murn to Adebyo sternly.

They’re fucking crazy. 

“Who gives a shit about Peacemaker? Vigilante is locked in jail with the White Dragon!” You plead urgently. Vigilante is in real danger and all they care about is Peacemaker’s feelings.

“Economos, can you get Vigilante out of the system before he screws us worse than we're already screwed?”

John sighs. “I don’t even know this guy’s name.”

The four of them look at you.

You cross your arms. “I can’t tell you his name.”

“Guess he’s gonna die in prison then -”

“Last name Chase. First name Adrian.” You blurt out his secret that you’ve been holding deep in your chest. “But you can’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t know I know.”

You crowd around John’s laptop as he pulls up Adrian’s file. 

“We shouldn’t be looking at this,” you say as you stare intently at his mugshot - the mugshot you’re so well acquainted with. You’d rather die than admit how many hours you’ve spent sitting at your desk late at night, looking at his police record on your laptop.

And suddenly, it’s like you’re back in bed with him, as he stares breathlessly at the ceiling and you lie there naked on top of his bare chest, looking into his masked face, picturing that very same mugshot underneath it.

“Guess again,” Vigilante says. You can tell even under the mask that he’s grinning, enjoying your questioning.

“Hmm… are you a doctor? You’ve stitched yourself up a lot.”

“You think I’m a doctor and live here?”

Vigilante watches as you make a show of pursing your lips thoughtfully. The warm afternoon sun streaks through the gaps in his blinds onto his bed. It makes it look like there’s a golden halo around your messy bed hair. He tucks a small strand behind your ear as you walk your index and middle fingers along his chest and down his shoulder. 

“Maybe a fireman with these big strong arms?”

He likes you when you let your walls down like this. You’re almost downright playful when he’s satisfied you - a personality trait he still hasn’t extricated from you outside these four walls.

“Man, I am so good at this secret identity thing if I can keep it a secret from a PI.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

He didn’t know that you had long known his real job. And his real name. Or that you’d trace your fingers over his face on your laptop screen as you tried to reconcile it with the masked killer who was content to let you into his bed but never his real life.

“Wasn’t he our busboy at Fennel Fields?” Adebayo’s question snaps you back to the present. 

“Can you pull him out?” You ask John.

“It’s… done.” He says, with a final click of his keyboard. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Yet.” 

Harcourt shrugs her leather jacket on. “I’ll pick him up.”

Great - first he reveals to Peacemaker who he is and now Harcourt who he’s known for a hot minute is about to see his face too. 

You frown. “He’s gonna be really upset we know his identity.” 

“You wanna come and soften the blow?”

“I’ll drive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harcourt sits in the passenger seat of your car outside of the Evergreen Police Department. You’ve been sitting here quietly in the dark, staring at the front doors for almost an hour.

“So what’s your deal with Vigilante?” She asks, finally breaking the silence.

“I told you - I threw some contract work his way. Used him as a bodyguard from time to time when I needed the extra muscle.”

“And then what? Why did you call him an asshole?”

“Because he can be an asshole.” 

“That doesn’t sound right. A psychopath maybe. But an asshole? I don’t buy it.”

You keep your eyes focused on the police station door to hide your face. “He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.” You swallow with difficulty. “He just has a code. Lots of quirky little rules he has to follow that makes it difficult for someone ordinary like me to be - I mean, to work with him.”

“Like not revealing his secret identity.”

It’s not a question but you nod all the same.

“So this is your first time seeing him without his mask?”

“That he knows of.” Your forehead touches the cool glass window. It’s like if you stare hard enough at the door he’ll appear in one piece. “I had to do my background checks.”

The doors open and you see Adrian Chase in his cardigan and jeans walking out into the dark night, illuminated by the fluorescent streetlights.

He’s alive.

You roll down your window and he stops dead. He stares at you in shock with his lips parted slightly - unsure whether you recognise him or not.

Harcourt stretches across your seat and calls to Adrian. “We’re here to take you home. Get in.”

When he climbs into the back seat of your car you both turn in your seats. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing him up close - physically he’s unscathed.

“He’s still alive…” He says. “I’m Adrian.”

“Okay,” Harcourt says simply.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” you tell him.

He looks up at both of you sadly over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I think I might have made things worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you drop Harcourt off at her motel, Adrian gets into the passenger seat. You let him give directions to his apartment, even though you already know where he lives.

“This is me,” he says when you pull up to his building and park in the spot you’ve parked in on countless occasions.

“I know.”

“Right. Yeah, you’ve been here.”

“A couple of times, yeah…”

His stupid code. You could know where he lives but never see his face. And now you can’t stop yourself from drinking him in - his slightly stubbly chin from his day spent in prison, the way his curly hair is all messed up. He groans heavily and leans his head back against the headrest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“The guys know how you ended up in jail - they don’t blame you.” He doesn’t say anything. You search his face as he stares gloomily ahead. “What happened in there, V?” you ask.

“I tried to provoke Peacemaker’s dad into a fight. It worked at first - the Aryans took the bait but his dad saw right through it. I think I’ve fucked up the whole mission.”

So Vigilante went into a viper pit unarmed and provoked a bunch of nazis into fighting him.

Deep down, you know it’s fucked up to be attracted to someone capable of such violence but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s what drew you to him in the first place. You knew about the headlines before you met him. And the idea of him taking on a dangerous prison gang really shouldn’t make your heart pound the way it is right now.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

You’ve never touched his hair before but you want to stroke it and comfort him. Tell him that it wasn’t his fault and it’ll all be okay. But he interrupts your train of thought before you can reach your hand out. 

“I meant I’m sorry about us.”

Why is your first instinct to tell him that it’s no big deal that he broke your heart? Stupidly, you want to protect him from it - from the hurt he caused you. Comfort him, put his feelings before your own just because you can tell that right now he needs it.

But it is a big deal. 

As soon as you remind yourself he couldn’t trust you enough to let you in, it feels like your heart is shattering all over again, mourning what you could have had.

Trust.

“I told the team your name so they could bail you out,” you admit, desperate to get the fact that you betrayed him off your chest. “I was worried about you locked up in there.”

He turns his head to look at you properly for the first time all night. The streetlights are reflected in his dorky little glasses.

“You knew my name?” He doesn’t look betrayed - he just looks surprised. “How…?”

You lift your finger from the steering wheel to point at his apartment. “Anyone with your address could find out who you are. And your full name appears on my checking account when you cash the checks I write you.”

“So you know… everything?”

“Yup.”

His eyebrows knit together in a plea. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to want me to know.”

“Knowing my secret identity would put you at risk.”

“That bullshit and you know it, V. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Yeah you do - that’s why you had me come with you on jobs.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Then why did you hire me?”

“I was curious about the man behind the headlines, I guess. Then I nearly went broke trying to spend time with you. Do you honestly think I wanted to give you a cut of my contracts for months? ”

He presses his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up out of the way and trying to make sense of it all.

“So those jobs were just you finding a reason to hang out?” He drags his hands down his face.

“Well, not at first. But then we started sleeping together after jobs and I wanted to keep doing that.”

“I would’ve wanted to be with you even without those jobs.”

“Oh yeah? You’d have taken me out on a date as Vigilante?” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again - as if reconsidering whatever he was about to say. “After all that time you still didn’t trust me enough to take off your mask. The last time we saw each other I practically begged you to show me who you are. Then Peacemaker comes back in town and you - what? Just rip off your mask and spill the beans without a second thought?”

“I was being tortured by Goff-”

“The senator tortured you?”

“Well, the Butterfly who had taken over his body. But yeah. He - I mean she - ripped off my mask and tried to cut off my pinky toe. Peacemaker was just there.”

You feel sick thinking about him being tortured. Then you feel sick about feeling sick. It’s not just normal empathy. You want revenge. But you know you shouldn’t care this much. Not when you’ve been broken up for so long.

“Shit, V. That’s horrible.” 

“Besides, if I was gonna show someone my face it would have been you. Not Peacemaker.” He looks at you sadly. “I wish you hadn’t left.” 

“And I wish you had given me a reason to stay, V. I deserved someone who could trust me. And you… you deserved someone you could be yourself with. We couldn’t be that for each other.”

The hurt on your face is plain for him to see - there’s no point trying to hide it. 

“I do trust you. It’s just…” He hesitates. “You’re the only person I know who thought I was cool.”

“Adrian… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Adrian.

It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that and it makes Adrian’s heart leap. Like the two sides of him have finally met you. After all this time.

“It’s not. Everyone else who knows me as Adrian knows I’m a loser. And I thought if I told you I was a busboy with no friends, you’d think that too.”

“You have friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The guys in the video store? They were so worried about you in jail. They like you a lot.” He allows himself a small smile like he doesn’t really believe it. “And I…” You pause. How do you feel about Adrian? “I still think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re actually saying the words he was afraid you’d never say.

“Of course I do. You’re still the masked Vigilante of Evergreen. And I’m just… ordinary.”

He scoffs in amazement. “You’re not ordinary - you’re like the smartest person I know. And you don’t need to hide behind a mask to do your job. 

“I’m not that smart.”

“I mean, you found out more about the butterflies than the US government.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Can I tell you something? And you won’t tell the rest of the team?”

“You can tell me anything.” 

“I didn’t know what butterflies were until today.” He looks extremely confused so you press on. “I met John in a dark web chatroom when I was researching the missing gorilla. And I thought you guys were looking for it too.”

He laughs. A merciless side-splitting laugh that doesn’t take your embarrassment into consideration at all. But it shows off his beautiful smile. And when you see it you can’t stop yourself from joining in too. It’s so ridiculous. You wanted to find the gorilla, and maybe get your PI business mentioned again in the local paper. Now you’ve been roped into saving the world with a black ops team and Vigilante.

You both try to regain your composure and stare at each other, catching your breath. He shakes his head, grinning.

Christ, look at him.

“I sometimes wondered if you wouldn’t remove your mask because you were just a bad kisser. I mean, I saw your mugshot so I already knew you were pretty.” You can’t help but tell him. You know the grainy photo on his record like the back of your hand but in person, he’s frankly gorgeous. 

“Thanks, I know.”

You laugh again. “And modest.”

“You think I fund being Vigilante on a busboy salary? I get a lot of tips.”

“It all makes sense now. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Because she didn’t want to wait around for an idiot who wouldn’t even kiss her.”

You stare at each other in the shadowy silence for a few moments. 

“It’s late, we should both get some rest.”

“Wait, don’t go.” His hand touches your thigh and it feels like there’s an electric current buzzing between his hand and the fabric of your jeans. The atmosphere almost crackles, like lighting about to strike in the middle of a storm. It’s the first time he’s touched you since you walked out on him six months ago and never went back. “It’s super late, you should crash at mine.”

“If I come upstairs we both know what’s going to happen.”

He tilts his head and you watch dimples form as the corners of his mouth turn into a mischievous smile. “That’s kind of the idea.”

“A bad one. We need to work together.”

“When has fucking ever stopped us from completing a job?”

“It hasn’t. But when we stopped seeing each other… I was really cut up. I couldn’t concentrate on work for a while. It’s why I needed the reward for the gorilla so badly.”

“Then we just won’t stop this time.”

“Adrian… I’ve only just pulled myself together again. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

He removes his hand from your leg to unclip his seatbelt. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Adrian gives you an apologetic look. 

You stare at his lips. They’re just there. His whole face is out in the open. And now his lips, and the rest of him, are about to leave your car and you never know when you’ll see him unmasked again. He opens the car door.

“Wait -”

He turns back around in his seat.

“Let me find out if you’re a bad kisser. At least I can tell myself I’m not missing out on anything if you are.”

“You’re gonna be so mad…” He cups your face and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m a really good kisser.”

You smile and his lips meet yours. 

It’s nothing like you imagined.

When you had sex it always felt urgent, even dangerous, getting into bed with a masked cape who was wanted for murder. More often than not he fucked you from behind, tugged fistfuls of your hair and slapped your ass. 

But his kisses… his kisses are soft and slow. And good.

You’re totally screwed.

He sucks your lip gently and then his tongue traces across yours. You urge yourself forward in the driver’s seat closer to him, bringing your hand up to cradle the nape of his neck and lace your hand in his soft hair.

Warmth spreads in your chest when he deepens the kiss. You secretly hoped he’d be like this when he was unmasked. Your hot and rough encounters were always fun but in your heart you always wanted him to want you like this. Deeply. Reverently. 

You break apart and press your forehead against his with your eyes closed, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

You open your eyes to see his green ones searching yours from behind his glasses. He lets out a long, happy exhale when he hears your seatbelt unclick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrian’s bedroom is neat, clean, with framed vintage comic books on his walls and illuminated by a lava lamp on his bedside table. Details you remember from previous visits but barely register this time as you both burst through his bedroom door while he kisses you. Refusing to take his hands from your body, he kicks the door shut behind him forgetting about his injured foot. He regrets it immediately.

“Fuck!” He pulls away and winces.

“Careful,” you soothe, shrugging your jacket off onto the floor and he lifts your shirt off. As soon as your skin is uncovered his mouth finds it. He drags his tongue across your collarbones and between your breasts, nudging the cup of your bra aside so he can find your nipple.

His warm mouth feels almost too good to be true as he sucks on the hard, pebbled skin and moves on to taste every inch of your exposed chest, his deft hands unhooking your bra and tossing it aside quickly. 

The entire day could have been a crazy fever dream. You’ve gone from your heart sinking at the very sight of him to it fluttering like crazy as you lie back on his mattress so he can pull your jeans and underwear off.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, sinking to his knees between your legs at the edge of the bed.

Even though you’re completely naked on his bed while he’s still dressed, you somehow feel less on display than he is right now without his mask. It feels taboo watching his jaw muscles tighten as he works his mouth all over your inner thighs. There’s something so controlled about the way he meticulously kisses the sensitive skin at the crux of your thigh that makes your lip quiver. 

You’ve spent enough time around his quick reflexes to know Vigilante is going to be skilled at eating you out but sometimes, especially in the depths of your despair during your breakup, there was a niggling inkling at the back of your mind that the mask might just be a convenient excuse not to. 

You had suspected, or maybe even hoped, when you hooked up that he had come really, really close to rolling up the bottom half of his mask and tasting you. More than once, you had caught a fleeting glimpse of him at odds with himself, his eyes behind his visor staring at your pussy and his neck muscles contracting as he swallowed thickly, strengthening his resolve and deciding to protect his own identity instead.

But tonight - finally - his tongue slides between your folds and you let out a low whine when the furnace-hot heat of his mouth besets itself over your clit.

Adrian groans when he tastes your arousal flooding his mouth. His hands cup under your ass as he pulls himself closer. You dare yourself to run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. It still feels like it shouldn’t be allowed but he doesn’t seem to mind at all as his lips suck on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Adrian…” His real name still sounds foreign on your lips, like you have to make a conscious effort to say it. 

Adrian looks up at you over his glasses, his pupils wide in the dim violet light of the lava-lamp-lit room. He takes in your glowing face and chest as you lie propped up on your elbows, enjoying the sight of him on the floor between your legs.

His fingers knead the soft, pillowy flesh of your ass like he doesn’t want to let you go anywhere ever again. And you don’t want to. Fuck the mission. Can’t you just stay here forever? In Adrian’s bedroom, panting while his tongue runs firm circles over your clit.

When you roll your hips in encouragement, he lets out a soft little moan sending vibrations over the bundle of nerves - it almost makes you dissolve right there and then. 

“I can’t believe I let you… fuck - let you get away with not doing this before,” you whimper. “So - s’fucking good, V.”

“Adrian,” he says and the tiniest absence of friction when his tongue leaves your clit makes your fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to return to your aching pussy.

“Adrianadrianadrian,” you babble, scared that his lips will leave you again. No more V. No more Vigilante. Just Adrian. Here. Eating your pussy like it’s you who’d been depriving him of this for months on end. Pleasure rises deep in your core like the tide getting ready to crash against the cliff face.

Your brain becomes fuzzy as increasingly desperate noises escape your throat - something strangled between a whine and his name. You squirm against his tongue as he relentlessly continues, determined to draw from you the orgasm that you’ve been desperate for since he kissed you in the car and you realised his mouth would feel like heaven.

The pressure of his tongue against your soaking wet pussy makes you writhe in exhilaration. You barely notice his fingers digging harder into your skin as you arch your spine and throw your head back.

Your thigh muscles tense and relax, trembling on either side of his face. “Adrian, I’m gonna - gonna cum…”

Instead of responding, he sinks two fingers deep inside your cunt, giving you something to squeeze around as every muscle in your pelvis tightens. He curls his fingers slightly and it’s just enough to push you over the fucking edge.

The purplish glow of the room turns blinding white as waves, hot and wet, break over you and your body floods with ecstasy. Your whole lower body stiffens as your walls clench around his fingers and you grind your pussy against his mouth.

Fuck, you’ve been missing out. You haven’t been with anyone else the entire time you’ve been apart and it’s like your body has been crying for exactly this moment without you realising how much you needed it. Needed his mouth on you.

The room comes into focus again gradually as Adrian gives you a last few slow, gentle kisses before sliding his fingers out of your still-twitching centre.

You breathe heavily and look at him kneeling on the floor.

He looks stupidly pleased with himself, the corner of his wet, glistening mouth upturned in a self-congratulatory smile at the way he’s taken you apart piece by piece. You can’t help but giggle from endorphins buzzing through your body. It makes your abdomen hurt from all the tensing you were doing. 

Adrian slaps the side of your ass and gets to his feet, undoing his belt buckle. “C’mon, bend over,” he grins.

You sit up, shake your head and smile. “Nuh-uh, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He blinks a couple of times dazedly. “Did you forget about your mask for a second?”

Adrian clears his throat. “Uh...No?”

He so did.

“C’mere.” You hook your fingers through his belt loops and pull him closer. You kiss the light trail of hair covering his hard abdomen while your fingers work to undo his jeans and pull them down to release him from the confines of his boxers.

God, you missed it. He has a pretty face alright but his cock is fucking perfect.

Your cheeks grow hot feeling him so close. You grip his hard length and draw your tongue across the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum. 

“Take your top off,” you say, looking up at him before running your tongue along his shaft, keeping eye contact.

He grips the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. Seeing him in the purple glow, every contour of his sculpted abdomen illuminated sends burning heat to your pelvis. You never thought you were into muscular guys, not until you saw Vigilante take his suit off for the first time. Now you’re not sure if you could go back to anything else. Anyone else. 

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock but he interrupts you.

“I need to fuck you. Please.”

At this point, you’re so turned on it’s an offer you can’t refuse. You release him and scoot back on the bed. He goes to crawl on top of you but flinches when his injured foot meets the mattress.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to - ah fuck.”

“It’s okay. Here, lie down. Let me go on top.”

He does so with relief and you swing your leg over his thighs.

“Better?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he says, looking at your naked figure sitting on top of him.

You reach into his bedside drawer where you know he keeps his condoms. Your fingers skirt over what you suspect are bags of candy until you find the corrugated square shape you’re looking for. You take it out and roll the condom on him.

“Okay, easy,” you say, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. He throbs under the grip of your hand in anticipation. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“You were totally cool with me over-exerting myself on the floor a second ago.”

“I was talking to myself,” you smirk. “It’s been a while.”

You ease yourself down onto his cock, feeling the beautiful stretch as you adjust to his size. 

“Shit…” he breathes, clamping his hands down hard on your hips, forcing you to bottom out. His eyebrows knit together and he sighs through parted lips, feeling the way your walls stretch around him. He looks so beautiful - you can’t stop looking at his lips.

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head so you can lean down and kiss him. The taste of your juices registers on your tongue as his enters your mouth. You deepen the kiss and Adrian responds by jerking his hips up needily, pressing into your g-spot.

You moan and suck on his bottom lip, gently rolling it between your teeth as he pushes into the most sensitive part of your centre. Searing heat burns low in your belly, spreading to your thighs. You push yourself back up to ride him and grab his wrists, dragging them from your waist to grope at your chest.

“Fuck, you look so hot riding my dick.”

“Yeah? Rose-tinted visor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

You’re teasing him but it seems to spur him on, as he squeezes your tits and jerks up into your bouncing hips. Every wet slap that meets your ears only increases your neediness for him. It burns brightly in your core, making you wetter and even more desperate for your next orgasm.

Every roll of your body sends his cock plunging into you, pushing against you at the perfect angle. God, he feels incredible. Your walls start to convulse around him, clamping down and gripping his cock as your second climax rears its head.

“Adrian, fuck, I’m close…” you plead, frantically chasing your high, wildly gyrating and bouncing in time with his thrusts.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“No, say my name,” he says, through gritted teeth, his neck muscles tightening in the soft light. 

His neck.

“Fuck, Adrian.” You lunge forward and bite on his neck. He grabs handfuls of your ass, anchoring himself into you as he thrusts savagely upwards sending pleasure rocketing through you. Fuck he’s deep. So fucking deep.

His name leaves your lips over and over, broken and ragged as every jerk of his hip knocks the air out of your lungs. Bliss ignites and your cry of pleasure is muffled as you moan and run your tongue over his neck, smelling his aftershave mixed with his musky sweat. An explosion, more fierce than any grenade blast bursts through your centre as he pummels his cock with unparalleled force and precision, even as you squirm and shake, unable to keep moving your own hips in time with his.

With every ounce of strength you have you lean up on your arms to look at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his facial muscles contort as he sucks through his teeth.

“Cum for me, Adrian,” you murmur sweetly in his ear and he opens his eyes, giving you a terminally helpless look as he slams his hips into your hot, wet cunt and you squeeze around him as tight as you can. With a final thrust, you feel his thighs tighten and his cock pulsing inside you as he cums.

You flatten your body back on top of his - the warm, damp sweat between your chests feels strangely pleasant. His fingers trace circles up your spine, gently tickling your back. Adrian turns his head to kiss you and you both lie for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

After what feels like a long time of lying in quiet elation, you make yourself climb carefully off of him and roll over, resting back on his pillows.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says and you lie back watching him dispose of the condom, taking care not to put any pressure on his bandaged toe. He launches himself back on the bed with a thud making you bounce on the mattress. “Good, you’re still here,” he says, leaning on his elbow and looking down at you.

“Where else would I be?” you laugh.

“Well… you usually leave right after. Except that one time I accidentally bought peanut M&Ms.”

You look at him apologetically. In fairness, the mask was hardly an invitation to spend the night - what was he going to do? Sleep in it? “Do you have peanut M&Ms?”

He nods to his bedside drawer and you open it to see that it’s stuffed with the little yellow bags.

“You like peanut M&Ms now?”

He pulls a face. “No way dude, they’re so gross.”

“Then why…?”

“I guess I always hoped you might change your mind and come back. So I bought them whenever I thought about you.”

You look at the drawer - there’s practically enough that Adrian could have made a trail of peanut M&Ms from your apartment across town to his. “You would have made a really sweet boyfriend,” you sigh.

“Well, I mean… I still could,” he says in a would-be nonchalant type of way, pushing up his glasses with his finger and avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure if he’d be open to picking up where you left off. But it feels right when it didn’t before. Now you know him. Really know him. 

He pulls his eyes up and meets your gaze with a smile. “If you want me to?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“Sweet,” he says with a wide smile, not bothering to hide how giddy he is.

You open the packet. “For the record, I’m not just staying because of the M&Ms this time.”

“I know.”

“And I’m glad you’re on the team.”

He nods happily, watching you pop a few into your mouth. “Hashtag me too.”

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #vigilante x female reader #smut #adrian chase smut #vigilante smut #fanfiction #freddie stroma #fanfic #peacemaker

[veerbles]

Kaz's attic rooms in the Slat

(canon notes under the cut)

All canon descriptions of Kaz's attic rooms:

"The Slat wasn’t much [...] crowned with an attic and a gabled roof." -> most likely a room with slanted walls.

"The attic rooms had been converted into his office and bedroom." -> the attic is partitioned into two separate rooms.

"The [office] room was mostly taken up by a makeshift desk – an old warehouse door atop stacked fruit crates – piled high with papers." -> the office isn't large; considering the dimensions of a warehouse door, and that it takes up most of the space, the room is VERY ROUGHLY 4x3m (13x9 ft).

"...he walked through the door to his tiny bedroom. [Inej darted] a glance at him through the open doorway [as he] dipped a cloth in the wash basin." -> (1) the office and bedroom are separated by a wall and door. (2) the bedroom is even smaller than the office - around 4x2m maybe. (3) assuming Inej was standing in the middle of the office, she had a line of sight to the wash basin through the bedroom door.

"Whenever he sat down to try to get some work done, he’d find his eyes straying to the window ledge." -> the window has enough room to sit, and there is a direct line of sight from kaz's office chair to it.

the slat is pretty clearly modeled after amsterdam's canal ring houses. I based the room's overall set-up and position within the house on this incredible post by @arany-studio.

furniture designs and bedroom features are inspired by 17-19th century rooms. I didn't try to be very specific with the style because (a) Ketterdam is not really a direct adaption of the early 19th century, (b) Kaz is a barrel rat and his furniture just came from wherever he could get them, including the street, abandoned buildings and mansions he robbed.

there are probably more things in the room that aren't depicted. I didn't want to crowd the drawing.

#six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #six of crows fanart #things I also overlooked for simplicity: how much of what's in there is broken down or torn or threadbare #kaz's chairs have no stuffing to speak of. the wood of his doors is splintering apart. etc. etc. #ANYWAY obsessed with fictional interior design!!! this is not at all what I see when I picture his rooms #so I wanted to shape my imagination into something more likely / close to canon #v:art

[tainted-liquor]

'Make it Awkward...⋆｡°✩

E1610!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, Kisses, n a lil bit of smiles! TWs: Awkward teen love like rlly rlly awkward W/C: 1.8k A/N: SZA Inspired fic ❤︎!! another cute lil req from my 100 special!

You and Miles had developed a sturdy friendship in middle school, with you always being hyped up as the "art kid" in each of your classes. Initially, he was a little bit bitter because he didn't really understand what the hype was all about. He could draw, and he could do it just as good as you. Which, granted was indeed true, but your work felt like something out of a Van Gogh discography. Each and every one of your paintings and drawings almost looked like there was a filter over them, like something out of a flurry dream that evoked nostalgia and warmth in whoever seemed to view them. To say he was inspired by you was an understatement, he wanted to drown himself in everything that was your talent.

But as time passed and spiders bit, you two grew apart from each other on account of him semi-blowing you off for Gwen. You stopped hanging out slowly, he began to drop art and pick up a sudden interest in physics and inter-dimensional travel, and even got...meaner? The kind and innocent kid that once was Miles suddenly became jumpy and antsy. You thought that you two had something worth way more than any other friendship you had, but one day shit just shifted into complete, and total, awkward silence. But as time heals all wounds, you slowly began talking again at the top of this month, right before your summer came to its close.

Miles quietly hummed along to the steady bump of the music in his headphones, nodding to the rhythm as he began illustrating a head in his sketchbook. As 'Les' By Childish Gambino slowly fizzed out and the electronic chords of 'Awkward' By SZA became known, his sketch started to warp a little. He didn't necessarily remember how or when, but he noticed his sketch become a lot less androgynous and more familiar, with twinkling brown eyes and thick curly hair becoming more detailed with each pencil stroke. It took him a while to realize, but eventually, he had drawn...you. Down to the finest details as well, your smile lines and your perfectly sculpted Nubian nose.

What he hadn't anticipated was filling up the next 2 pages of his sketchbook with both your face and the signature crochet fingerless gloves you wore during the winter. What initially was just a warmup while waiting for you to arrive at his house turned into a full-blown drawing session with you as the muse. You weren't even there and he still had drawn you 100% accurately from memory. He sighed as his playlist continued to play out a steady stream of nothing but SZA, leaning back in his chair as he stared up at the ceiling before he heard a knock on his room door. "Ah-Come in!" he yelped as he quickly put away his sketchbook, swapping out the pencils and paint markers for paintbrushes and canvases.

You gently pushed open the door, showing Miles your painted tote bag full of art supplies, such as watercolors, charcoal, oil paints, three palettes, and various paintbrushes. "Hey, Miles! Sorry, it took me a lil bit...that fuckin' line in the art store was INSANE" you chirped as you slowly entered Miles's room and set down your bag. You placed your shoes in the corner of his room before walking over to sit on his bed. He pulled off his headphones, gently placing them on their stand before spinning around in his indigo desk chair. "That's fine! Don't even worry about it I know how full them stores get" he shrugs as he grabs his Bluetooth speaker from off his shelf, motioning for you to follow him as he stacks the canvases and art supplies in his hands.

"C'mon, there's not enough space in my room for two people to paint," he explains as he climbs the stairs up to his apartment roof. You followed closely behind him, setting up the art supplies as he fidgeted with his speaker. You lean back against the wall as you sit on the concrete roof, taking in the pretty sky as you sketch out some buildings and a landscape on your canvas. "So how's summer for you, huh? What's her name...Gwen was it? How'd things go over with her?" You ask as you begin to add minor details to your sketch. Truth be told it ate you up every single time he would mention her in your past conversations, with you having a small...thing for him that grew over time.

"Oh! Uh, Gwen...yeah. Things went south, we don't really talk anymore..." He shrugs as he rips the plastic off of a rather large canvas. You nodded slowly, indicating that you were hanging on to his every word as you cracked open a fresh bottle of paint thinner, pouring it into a small glass cup before coating your brush in the clear mineral spirit. You slather a couple of shades of deep blue, rusty orange, bright magenta, and off-white on your paint palette as you work to form that beautiful 'sunset gradient' on your canvas. He connects his phone to the small black speaker, his playlist resuming quietly in the background. "But how's your summer been?" he asks as he mirrors the process of sitting beside you and leaning against the wall.

"My summer's been fine actually. Nothing too eventful, no trips or nothing, just taking a couple...ahem...adventures!" You explain as you recall how you nearly got in trouble with the police for trespassing in various abandoned locations for funsies. Miles gives you a playful side-eye, looking you up and down. "You sound a lil sketchy...what did YOU do this summer?" he chuckled as he began sketching out some scenery and what looked like the early stages of a body on his canvas. "Shhhh, your dad's a cop" you giggled as you picked up a smaller brush, filling in the buildings and scenery in your painting. You both chuckled at the slight confession, looking ahead of you so you could get an accurate view of what you were currently painting.

You took a small glance at what Miles was currently sketching, getting a good look at the faceless humanoid figure sitting cross-legged, with an unidentified object that vaguely resembled a pencil in her hand as she drew on her...face? Eyeliner maybe? You hummed along to 'Supermodel' By SZA. You held up your canvas closer to Miles's canvas, analyzing the difference in art styles. Yours was much more realistic, and heavily influenced by the world around you with your unique play on your color palette. whereas Miles was more stylized and thought out, the colors remaining true to their actual hue.

"What do you think this needs more of?" you ask as you tilt your canvas towards Miles. He thought for a moment, tilting his head slightly so he could thoroughly analyze the painting. "More shine to the light sources maybe? Like a soft glow!" he beamed as he pointed towards the canvas with the opposite end of his paintbrush. You nod with your signature full smile, smile leans indicating your raw and unfiltered joy. Miles's eyes lingered on you for a couple of seconds before he madly swiped away at his canvas, seemingly blocking out more details with darker shades of watercolor.

You spent the next four hours, yes, four hours giggling like children as Miles sang along terribly to some of the songs on his playlist, starting a mini karaoke session on his roof with the both of you. It began to get cold and dark, so you decided you would pick up the canvases again after going inside to get something to eat. He grabbed his speaker and supplies, leaving his large canvas on the roof of his building before disappearing through the door to his apartment complex. You stuffed most of what you wanted to bring back down into your bag, before deciding to look over at Miles's painting. It looked exactly like you, but you were younger.

You remembered that damn scrunchie you had locked on your wrist, your favorite dark red satin scrunchie that went perfectly with your uniform. You shifted slightly to get a better angle of the canvas, watching as 8th grade you sprung to life in the form of doing your eyeliner on the bathroom sink. Miles had been there with you, watching as you painfully kneeled on the edge of the sink and leaned hazardously close to the mirror. You smiled softly to yourself as you noticed each beauty mark you had perfectly positioned on your face, from each scar to every minor indent in your smile. You chuckled quietly before swinging open the door and bolting down the stairs, straight to Miles's room.

And there he was, viciously fucking up a cup of noodles like someone would take it from him at any moment. "Damn, is it good? it ain't goin' nowhere now..." you joked with wide eyes as he gestured to an identical cup cooling off by his mini desk fan. You ate alongside him in silence, not really knowing what to say to each other. "I see you're still painting like in middle school...?" he states, referring to your distinct blurred style of painting. "Huh...Oh! Yeah, haha. I miss middle school kinda." You shrug as you sit the cup down on the side of his desk.

"Really? I always thought you thought I was a lil annoying back in middle school. I think you were my quietest friend ever" he joked as he finished his cup, dunking it in his trash can. "Huh? I literally thought you were the cutest thing ever! If I thought you were annoying I would've told you!" you stated with a small chuckle. Miles seemed to think for a moment, pausing as he processed the first half of your sentence. "Wait, you thought I was cute this whole time?" He asked with wide eyes. "Yeah! I was quiet cuz I didn't wanna fuck anything up! I think I had the fattest crush on you!" you laughed as you realized he thought that YOU thought he was annoying this whole time.

He gawked for a minute, his jaw slacked and eyes even wider than before. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" he semi-shouted as he began pacing around his room. You could only laugh, saying "We were like 10 and I didn't know if you would've liked me back." He looked at you as if you had 2 heads, going on some long rant about how he always thought you just weren't interested or thought he was annoying. You silently got up from his bed, walking over to him and stopping him entirely.

Miles looked at you with a rather confused and amused expression, probably still processing the fact that you openly admitted to liking him in middle school. But nothing in the world could have prepared him for the delicate kiss that you placed on his lips. He eagerly closed the space between the two of you, wrapping one arm around your waist almost by instinct. You pulled away from him after what felt like years, muttering a small "Who taught you that?"

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales #miles x reader #miles molares #1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles fluff #miles morales 1610 #1610 miles x reader

[ponyhasapepsiaddiction]

hi! can i get headcannons about each of the boys you have?

Hi! Of course you can. I totally didn't think of these right now and then fell in love with them, haha totally had them prepared.

Sodapop believes in paranormal stuff and is careful not to mess with any of it. Dally suggested they do a ouija board once and he freaked out and went on a rant about not fucking with that shit.

Johnny will always have multiple packs of cigarettes on him and most of the time the gang will end up asking him for some. It’s mainly Dally and Ponyboy because they never bring spare packs and always run out. They are communal cigarettes

When Dally can’t find anywhere else to go for the night, and he can’t be bothered to walk over to the Curtis house, he would go to a spot under a bridge where the gang used to hang out before they got told off by Mr and Mrs Curtis for going there, because they could get hurt.

Steve also believes in the paranormal and is also careful with it, but less so than Soda because he still wants to act cool, especially around Pony, because he needs to assert dominance.

Sometimes when Pony’s reading he will go into random positions and be too invested in the book to care if it hurts or not. His brothers would sometimes come home and see him half hanging off the couches or chairs reading or he would be lying underneath the table. Darry and Soda don’t even question it anymore.

Two-Bit likes to balance random objects on top of each other just to amuse himself (in the movie he balanced a shoe on a can). He’s gotten really good at balancing things. One time he was so concentrated on balancing really hard objects that he didn’t notice that someone had fallen off the roof and broke their arm. That person was Steve.

Sometimes Darry would come home slightly later from one of his jobs and he would be really tired so he would lock himself in his room and sleep for about 10-15 minutes just to recharge before getting up to make dinner.

At one point or another, each one of the gang have tried to draw like Ponyboy weather in secret or not. Johnny was the best because he spent more time with Pony and he gave him some tips on techniques.

Hope you like them. I have more but I figured I can save those for another time, a be secretive about them.

#the outsiders #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #darrel shayne curtis #the outsiders darry #the outsiders sodapop #darry curtis #darrel curtis #sodapop #ponyboy michael curtis #the outsiders ponyboy #ponyboy #steve the outsiders #the outsiders steve #steve randle #two bit #the outsiders two bit #two bit mathews #keith mathews #the outsiders dally #dally winston #dallas winston #dallas tucker winston #johnny the outsiders #the outsiders johnny #johnny cake #johnny cade #the curtis brothers #curtis brothers #the outsiders gang

[ashen-char]

together pt.1/?

ship: river (all souls) x gender neutral reader

warnings: vague mentions of drug dealing bc of canon i suppose

summary: river has some financial troubles. you want to help.

word count: 800+

You're resting on River's worn-out sofa bed, like you do whenever you come over. River's place is a single bedroom and her baby comes first - Jade is already sleeping soundly in the bedroom. And you can ignore the springs digging into your back if it means River's laying beside you every night.

But right now, she's busy. River is counting crumpled bills at her dining table, sitting on a metal folding chair that's always been uncomfortable. A little from the dealings she runs, a little more for helping the cops, and the shitty tips from her diner job.

Her being a police informant is too dangerous for your liking. Especially with how it wraps River up in Silas's world again. River agreed with you every time you two talked about it but, in her words, what the hell can she do? She needs the money to keep the lights on, to keep her girl fed, needs Jade to be able to stay miles away from the shitshow that is her life. And, River added, the more she helps the police the closer that scum gets off the streets.

"Damn," River whispers to herself as she counts the final bill. "Barely enough to keep the lights on." But you hear her, and you can see that wrinkle between her brows. She's stressed - mind already whirring about how to make her paycheck stretch for the week. Your girl takes on way too much by herself.

"Hey," you say. You get up from the sofa and make your way over to her, sliding an arm across River's shoulders.

"Mm," she murmurs back in acknowledgement. River lifts her head up so that your lips graze against the tattoo on her neck. "Sorry, it's just-" she sighs, "a lot. But I'll figure something out. I always do."

"No, no. I'll pitch in." You don't say it like an offer, knowing that River's pride would make her refuse, but as a statement. You'd take care of her. You'd take care of them both if she let you.

River has been independent since she was a kid, practically, so young when she had Jade. She had dropped out and had taken whatever jobs she could, and after her mom passed River has been doing it virtually alone. Learning that it's alright to depend on you has been a struggle for her.

River pauses. "You sure?" You've offered before, and River always turned it down. It's your money, she'd tell you. The fact that she doesn't refuse immediately tells you that she's more comfortable relying on you already. It warms your heart.

The answer's easy. You don't hesitate to say "of course", leaning down to kiss her again.

It's slow and a little sweet, the tang from the Monster she just downed hitting your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick it away and River makes this cute little noise at the back of her throat. The pressure of River's kiss is like a soothing balm. When she pulls away, though, you can see that the money problems are still on her mind.

Leaning her head on your shoulder, she sets down the bills she was tallying and rubs her tired eyes. It's a mix of emotions. Gratitude for the roof over their heads, frustration at the unending struggle to make ends meet. And above all, River has determination to provide a better life for her daughter. She knows accepting this offer would be for the best. And she trusts you. 

"Alright. But I don't really know what to let you help with," River admits. She already has enough, if barely, to cover the bills. With a little more pocket change from you, she could actually have some savings for a rainy day. You two wouldn't have to sleep every night on a sofa she found off the side of the road.

"I dunno. Anything," you say.

River looks over her apartment as if seeing it for the first time. The coffee table has cigarette burns and crayon scribbles. Toys are strewn all over the floor but the walls are empty, save for Jade's drawings. The cabinets never close properly. There's only two chairs at the dining table. That was enough for when it was just the two of them, but with you around... maybe River can dream of sharing meals together as a family. You'd stick around for breakfast instead of slipping out before Jade wakes up.

"You think we can get a little something to make the place more homey?" she asks. "I think I'd like that."

You grip her tighter, whispering promises against River's skin. Dreaming for more is hard in a world like this. But you hope against hope that you being around will make River see that it's alright. That dreams can come true.

You hold her close, surrounded by the faint scent of her perfume and the quiet hum of the city outside. "I'd love to. We'll make it happen," you whisper. You'll make anywhere home as long as you're by each other's sides. "Together."

pt. 2 is here!

#mikey madison #all souls #river all souls #mikey madison x reader #river x reader

[naathanuwu]

Home sweet planetarium

(Rushed drawing by me)

Vox x masc!reader

Category: fluff

Word count: 504

Summary: You’ve been dating Vox for a few weeks. After getting cancelled on again you had enough and decided to bring the date over to Vox’s penthouse.

Warning: Light usage of cursing- it’s like one word, mentioned Valentino

The room was dark and chairs were set out perfectly to pull blankets over them. As you did just that, things were coming along. There was one more thing missing. Looking for a plug, you added the last perfect detail. A small star projector, making the interior of the blanket fort light up with stunning constellations.

To be honest you have had enough of Vox’s stressed and barely present attitude. If there was one thing you could do perfectly, it’s to prepare something nice and comforting. Something to ease the end of Vox’s long day. Soft cushions and blankets were layed out on the floor beneath the blanket roof.

(You were unsure if Vox had enough or even any comfortable bedding, so you brought your own stuff with you.)

Now adding the last few details you hear the elevator ding. Sudden excitement rises within you, wondering how your boyfriend would react. To be quite fair this is incredibly silly, but if Vox wanted something serious with you he had to deal with it.

“Uhh… what the fuck?” You could hear Vox’s voice echo through the room as he saw the odd fort. He couldn’t really make out why it was in his penthouse. All Vox could assume was that Valentino wanted to do something kinky.

You quickly crawled out of the tend and jumped up doing jazz hands. To Vox’s relief. “Surpriseeee~ I came over anyway- even tho you told me not to… yay?”

Vox just kinda stared at you and then back to the fort. He had no clue what this meant. Dating you has opened Vox to many things. One of them being silly and affectionate gestures for nothing materialistic in return. You caught onto that real quick walking up towards him.

“You’ve been working your ass off the entire week and I kinda missed you. I didn’t want to force you to do something that might exhaust you even more, so I thought why not make your home extra cozy?” You gently tucked your hand around his arm, pulling him with you towards the blanket fort. It did look ugly from the outside, you had to admit that.

Once Vox saw the interior of the blanket fort his heart melted a little. “Wow… this doesn’t look as shit as I expected.” He followed you into the tent, his gaze fixated on the stars. It was pretty odd to see something like that, especially coming from an adult.

“I know, I should’ve done this in your aquarium or something. How thoughtless of me…” You sigh out dramatically, dropping your chin onto his shoulder. The dramatic action more of a request of gratitude than genuine critique towards yourself.

Vox placed his clawed hand on your shoulder and lied back, pulling you down with him. The projected stars slowly and smoothly moving, earning Vox’s full visual attention. “This is quite nice actually… you shouldn’t have done something like that, you know?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. Building blanket forts was one of my favourite things to do as a kid.” You shrug snuggling up to Vox.

A direct thank you would be too much to ask for, but his actions reflect his gratitude. You asked Vox about his childhood and that conversation turned into trauma bonding. Time seems to stop as Vox and you were just trapped in the (fake) starlight, eventually passing out into sleep.

A/n: Hello my beloved Vox simps and fanfic enjoyers! I hope you have enjoyed reading my sweet short fanfiction. I know that in the pole from yesterday smutt won, but I already finished this fluff fic yesterday and worked on the title drawing for it as well.

I’ll get working on the smutt fic next though! It might take a little longer cause I’m a little shy about it hehehe

Ps: Can we appreciate the little separators I made? It’s tiny Vox sending smooches :’)

#I FORGOT ABOUT THE TAGS #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox x oc #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel vox #vox #gay shit #fluff #vox fanfiction #silly #adorable #blanket fort

[bathomet-writes]

it’s so easy

summary: Mikey and you had been secretly dating for over a year, and a lot has changed in both of your lives. The Kraang invasion, the people of New York, it all shook up the status quo. On a rooftop date, you and him spill the tea and reconnect about what's really important.

relationship: Mikey x F!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, secret dating, slight hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 3,191

author's note: another request for @/snipersiniora!! 💕 (ngl i listened to the reel big fish cover of “it’s not easy” while writing so this is loosely inspired by it lol)

You don’t know why in all the time you’ve spent in New York, you’ve never been up on a rooftop. The view was amazing. 

There were a couple of reasons as to why. Your hatred of high places, for one. With a strong enough breeze, you could go flying off your roof and become intimately familiar with the pavement below. Sometimes your neighbors would set up lawn chairs and shoot the shit, which was fine enough. You’ve just never been comfortable enough to want to join them. Lastly, it was a little difficult to skate on. The crowded atmosphere and uneven terrain made it the last place you would want to find yourself on a nice evening such as this. 

But, the rooftop of your building had one upside: it was the place you got to see Michelangelo. 

You clicked your heels together as you sat at an empty folding chair leftover from one of your upstairs neighbors. He wouldn’t show up for at least another 30 minutes, but you couldn’t help but jump the gun a bit and wait on the roof anyway. You’ve been keeping yourself busy, drawing random sketches onto your iPad. 

Mikey and you had been friends for a while, but you officially started dating about a year ago. Not much has changed between you two, even after the Kraang invasion. 

He was his same upbeat, eclectic self. But Mikey was also a little more confident. He carried himself differently, with a knowledge and experience you couldn’t even begin to relate to. You were a human, he was basically a superhero. 

You bite at the tip of your drawing pen. Why was it whenever you started thinking about him and his brothers, you got inexplicably frustrated. 

Was it because Raph, Donnie, and Leo still didn’t know you two were dating? 

No, not really. You and Mikey weren’t really concerned with labels. You two were content to continue hanging out like you always had, just with a little extra…intimacy.

Maybe it was the fact that you had to hang out in precarious places such as your rooftop. Why couldn’t you just go to your apartment, or the lair? 

“No, that’s not it.” You grumble to yourself, tapping the pen against your cheek.

“What’s not it?”

Mikey’s head appeared right above yours. He had just landed on the top of the wooden overhang you sat under, hanging like a spider. 

Smiling, you sit up a little more straight to give his snout a peck.

“This…caricature. I just can’t capture his likeness. It’s missing something.”

Mikey blushed, dropping from his perch to sit next to you. “Allow me to offer you my artistic perspective!”

You happily oblige and show him your screen. Thinking about your fellow tenants had made you unintentionally start to draw little doodles that looked like them. You couldn’t help wanting to draw the people you knew. Your weird, human neighbors were quite the characters. Almost a little more weird than the turtles, in your opinion.

“Oh, I know this guy. Is this the one that knocked at your door at 3 AM asking for a DVD?”

Mikey pinched to zoom in on your sketch. You don’t know whether your drawing was that accurate or if he was just great with faces. Either way, you can’t help but smile even more.

“How did you know?” You snuggle closer to Mikey, leaning in. “He insisted that I had borrowed his copy of Cats. And I was like, ‘Dale, I already own it on Blu-ray. Why in the world would I steal your DVD?’”

Mikey fell into your lap in hysterics. “NYAHAHA—! You didn’t!”

You weren’t lying about the interaction having happened, but maybe you embellished the part at the end. You just loved making Mikey laugh. 

“I did!” You beam. 

“Your neighbors are so weird, even for me. And the only neighbors I have are the sewer gators.”

You set your iPad down on the patio, scooching Mikey to lie fully in your lap. 

“Her name is Leatherhead and she’s lovely. I met her family once, on the way to the lair.”

Ignoring your sly tone, Mikey curled up into you like a lap cat. He was practically purring from how happy he was to finally be in your arms. It’s only been a couple of days since he’s had the opportunity to see you like this, and he was absolutely touch-starved.

“I missed you,” he sighs. “Patrol has been intense lately.”

His tired smile told you that he’d rather not get into it right now. You hum, petting the side of his head.

“I missed you too.”

Talking about his brothers wasn’t necessarily a taboo topic, but right now was the time for Mikey to relax, to unwind. You had plenty of stress in your own life too. Maybe it wasn’t as important as keeping the city safe, but it was tiresome to you nonetheless. 

You both just wanted to forget about everything else, just be together. That was what these rooftop hangouts were for. And if that was good enough for Mikey, it was good enough for you.

But your smile faltered, if only for a moment. 

Mikey’s eyes were closed as he continued to relish your head pets, unaware of your subtle shift in mood.

“Tell me more about your neighbors.” Turning his head, he speaks softly into your hand. “I love hearing about the people you live with. They’re interesting.”

“Well, this town is kinda ‘interesting people’ central.” You shrug.

“Yeah, I know. Are humans in other places like the ones here?”

Dragging your fingers along his textured skin, you think about it. You hadn’t really gotten around much, but you figured that NYC was a little unique compared to other major cities.

Your lips ease back into a lazy smile. 

“Sort of. This place is sort of a big Melting Pot, y’know? It doesn’t really matter where you come from, everyone ends up wherever they are…for whatever reason.”

Mikey looks up at your face, his expression dripping with curiosity.

“What’s that mean?” He smirks.

“It means that people are weird. This place has a lot of people. Therefore, New York is just about the weirdest place there is!”

You two laugh, basking in each other's presence. After looking down at Mikey, you feel a little more normal. Work, life, all of that didn’t really matter anymore. Or at least, it shouldn’t. 

“My neighbor’s aren’t all that interesting, Mikey. They’re just your run-of-the-mill folks, day drinking and sitting on the stoop.”

“Woah…” He gasps, sitting up. “Day drinking?”

Internally, you chide yourself. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me!” He smiles, zipping his lips shut.

“I shouldn’t gossip…”

You roll your eyes a bit before they land on Mike. His eager, expectant expression was just too cute. Who could say no to a face like that?

Suddenly, you’re filled with bubbly energy.

“Okay, okay! Liz told me that Bill said that Debbie’s grandma was apparently—“

You whip your head around, making sure the coast is clear. You never knew who might be listening in, your neighbors were terribly nosy.

“She snuck Hennessy into the apartment meeting. Last Sunday, when we got together with the building manager, they had coffee and stuff…”

Mikey quickly scrambles over to grab a free chair before sitting directly in front of you. Enraptured, he places his head on his hands. 

“And she added a little extra somethin’ into her mug? How scandalous!” He wiggles his eye ridge, fully getting into the story. 

You launch forward and gesture wildly with your hands. “No, that’s the thing! She put the booze…in the coffee pot.”

Mikey’s smile dropped. 

“You don’t mean—“

Grimly, you nod your head.

“I mean a whole room of people, shnackered at 10 AM. On God’s day.” You chortle. 

He covers his mouth in genuine shock. You chuckle, looking at his wide-eyed expression.

“And I know that Liz was the one who ratted her out, the bitch. She of all people would know what Hennessy tastes like, I saw her drink 5 whole cups with my own eyes!” 

Mikey moves his hands away, his voice hushed. “She sounds like a bitch.”

You kick your legs up and recline farther in your chair. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Liz was your next door neighbor. She always had a knack for being right outside your door whenever you stepped out to go to work. You left early everyday just to accommodate for the inevitable one-sided conversation. She was old, and very lonely, so you didn’t mind her chatting your ear off. 

But she was also very bitter. Even more so after the Kraang invasion.

“I swear, I keep seeing those…frog men. They flip around my windows at all hours of the night, whooping and hollering up a storm! Who do those punks think they are?”

You’ve seen a lot of different reactions from people after the turtles officially became public knowledge. Usually, it was just casual disinterest or disdain from the more conservative crowd. Old people, cops, etcetera. 

But for some reason, the people you lived with just happened to be either really old or in law enforcement. They hated all mutants, and they didn’t have any problem letting you know about it.

You nearly get lost in your own thoughts before Mikey nudges your knee.

“I think she’s the one who threw a flower pot at my head that one time.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his noggin.

Sighing, you lightly knock his leg with your foot. “Yeah, that’s Liz. If rent wasn’t so good here, I’d move out in a second.”

“Aw, they’re not so bad!” Mikey shoots a toothy smile at you. “It’s not the worst thing someone’s thrown at me.”

You meet his grin with a small frown.

“How do you do it?” 

Mikey cocks his head. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Ugh, no? Yes?” You lean back and stare up into the sky. It was a clear day, not a cloud in sight.

“You’d think people would be a little more thankful to the guys who saved their asses from alien invaders.”

You seethed, thinking about all the nasty side comments and quiet whisperings you’ve overheard in your hallways. 

“Hey, don’t get angry on my account.” Mikey reaches out and gives you a good-natured pat on the leg. “My family’s used to people wanting to kill us all the time, so a flower pot is actually a nice change of pace.”

“I guess so.”

Then, you realize it. 

This was why you were so stressed out. Whenever you think about the turtles, you can’t help but associate them with all the negative energy you’ve been surrounded in at home. You thought you had thicker skin, but you feel your heart start to sink. 

“You know, it’s funny.” 

Mikey sighs, musing to himself. 

“Sometimes I think about how weird it’s been lately. Splinter always told us it was important for us to not be seen, to stick to the shadows. It was because of the ninja thing, mostly. But I know he was trying to keep us...”

He picks nervously at his palm, tracing the lines of his hand. 

“Safe?” You ask. 

“Sheltered.”

There was a sadness creeping into his voice. You hated the sound. It was just too bittersweet for you to handle. You cautiously look back to Mikey, waiting for him to finish.

“But, then there was April. And Casey, later on. I thought there might actually be a chance for us to make it out in the human world. The whole yokai/mutant thing with Draxum was…well, a whole thing.”

Mikey briefly looked back up to make sure he wasn’t boring you too much. Not that he didn’t like to talk with you about stuff like this, it was just a little hard. 

When you give his hand an encouraging squeeze, he sighs. 

“But, I knew we kinda wouldn’t have a choice to stay in the shadows anymore. After the Kraang, that is. Leo told us we wouldn’t exactly be  getting the red carpet treatment.”

“Humans are stupid.” You huff. 

“You’re a human, and I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

Mikey squeezed your hand back, a sad smile forming on his face. 

It wasn’t like he needed the entirety of New York to accept him and his brothers. With April, Casey, and especially you, he had all the human approval that he could ever want. He searched your face, and he knew that you were starting to slip. 

You try to swallow down the lump in your throat before speaking up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up all this.” You run your thumb along the edge of Mikey’s.

Mikey sits up, puffing out his chest. “That’s enough. I will not have you getting sad because of me!”

Suddenly, he stands up, bringing you along with him.

“I’m not sad, I’m mad!” You scoff, rubbing your nose on your sleeve. “I ought to throw ceramic vases at Liz, see how she likes it.”

Tutting you, Mikey leads you out into the middle of the roof. There was a concrete slab next to the door that led back into the building, where you had placed your backpack earlier. You watch as Mikey sneaks around, dipping behind your back, to dig through your bag.

“You know a good way to get rid of all that anger?” Mikey whispers, rising up.

“What are you scheming back there?” You cross your arms and spin around. “Stop messing with my—“

When you turn around, you see Mikey holding up your trusty pair of skates right up to your face. He held them by the shoelaces, a cheeky grin peeking around them. 

“Skate the hate away, baby!” 

“That’s a beautiful thought,” you smirk. “But I couldn’t.”

“Oh, then let me help you.”

You gasp, feeling Mikey drag you over to your chair to push you back into it. Once you fall, he moves down to pull off your sneakers and lace up your skates. 

Blushing, you watch him lovingly guide your feet in. He sticks his tongue out as he ties little bunny-ear knots.

“Mikey…!” You giggle, his fingers tickling your ankle. “This is too much.”

Whenever you started to become sad, you could always count on him to lift your spirits back up. You tried to stay as endlessly positive and go-with-the-flow as Mikey, but it was difficult sometimes. The inner optimist in you was finding it more and more hard to navigate the nihilistic world you found yourselves in.

“There! Now c’mon.” He smiles. 

Mikey lifts you back up, pulling you to glide over to the concrete by the door. 

You can’t help the goofy smile that creeps in when he spins you around. The flat surface was just big enough for you to skate a couple of inches away from him. 

Your shoulders slump, all at once feeling happy again. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You fold your hands behind your back and circle Mikey. 

Chuckling, he tries following your face as it spins around him.

“Nothing. You were just in the right place at the right time.”

He stood there idly watching you elegantly sail past him. It was fun constantly making him have to twist around to keep eye contact with you, and you feel laughter begin to bubble up.

You snatch his hand, forcing him into an awkward dance with you. 

“Care to join me?” 

You grin from ear to ear, placing a hand upon the small of his back. Or rather, his shell. 

Surprisingly, Mikey is caught off guard by your bold move. You watch with glee as his face flushes a bright pink. He stutters, a little bashful at being led around by you instead of the other way around. 

“I g-guess I don’t have a choice?”

You pull him closer, pressing up against his plastron. “Nope!”

The two of you spin around in lazy circles for a while. The blazing sunset on the horizon brought a new feeling of warmth and comfort, a heavenly glow lighting up your eyes. The entire city looked like it was bathed in orange, Mikey’s signature color.

It was a good look for New York.

“Wow…” You sigh, marveling at the beautiful world around you.

“I know.” 

Mikey shifts a bit, managing to stand an inch or two higher than he usually is. You were both about the same height, at least that was what you kept insisting to him. But he wanted to look down at you for once. He wanted to hold you like you held him. 

“You make me feel accepted, you know.”

You blink against the light of the sun before looking back at Mikey. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You just let me be me. That’s all I need. You make me feel all…sparkly.”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a chuckle. 

“Sparkly, huh? That’s a unique adjective.”

That was the best way Mikey could describe it. You and him had so much in common, mostly in terms of your hobbies and your personalities. But there was just something about being around you so much that showed him how different you were. In a good way, obviously.

You were human, he was a mutant. There was the ninja-ing as well. You both had wildly different life experiences. 

Slotting your head between his neck and his shoulder, he hugs you tightly. 

“What about you?” 

His warm breath makes you shudder, practically melting into his hold.

“You make me feel…”

You move your skate to engage the rubber stopper. The world was seriously starting to spin.

“Shiny.”

“Hey, are you copying me?” 

Playfully scoffing, Mikey picks you right off of your feet and spins you around again. You laugh into each other's embrace, and you hold on for dear life as he pins you securely to his chest.

“It’s true! You make me feel all shiny and new.”

For a second, you feel your thoughts wander back to your earlier conversation. You don’t like having to shift into serious mode, but you needed to say just one more thing. Mikey moves away to get a better look at your face.

“I know it’s not easy. Having to save people when they don’t even—“

“No, it’s not. But when I think about all the people who do care, who do understand me…”

Mikey smiles, tipping your chin up slightly to look at him. He always wanted to do that to you. 

“It’s easy. It gets easier everyday. All I have to do is have you right here.”

Then, your heart flutters in your chest. You didn’t notice it before, but Mikey stood a little taller than you now. You don’t know if he had a growth spurt or something, but there he was. Looking at you, his eyes sparkling in the sunset, you knew there was a lot more to Mikey than anyone thought. 

Even you.

“I love rooftops,” you sigh, moving up to brush your lips against his cheek.

Angling his head around, he leans into you. 

 “I love rooftops too.”

taglist: @saspas-corner

#rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #sfw #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #requests

[borahaerhy]

Flawed - myg

Genre: Fluffy asf, slight angst

Warnings: self-harm scars, and that's really it lovelies.

Word count: 2K

Request: can you write one where yoongi is y/n’s neighbor (either he recently moved there or she did, doesn’t matter) and y/n is pretty introverted and has had a tough life. she deals w self-harm (if ur not comfortable writing this part its totally fine, you can skip it or u can just make it so that it was in the past and she doesn’t currently do it anymore) and depression. she’s a painter but is always self conscious of her paintings/drawings but he sees them and appreciates them, they become good friends, and both open up to eachother, their windows are next to eachother in a way so they always meet up on the roof that’s connected to their window(idk if i’m making sense lol) and they lay there talk and stare at the stars. you can end it however u want but this is the gist of what i was thinking (also, if you do decide to write the SH part, u don’t have to write the act of it, just him maybe seeing them and her talking about it and him comforting her about it) and ofc if u can make it fluffy lol

Ofc!! I hope you don't mind the direction I took it :)))

These small moments of peace are what keep you sane. 

A good book, a new favorite song, rainy days spent on your sofa watching movies. 

The small moments in between are what really matter – between the chaos and excitement, where nothing really matters more than how warm you are bundled up under your favorite blanket or how the breeze moves through you perfectly on an evening walk. 

This moment was one of those moments. 

Sat on the small chair you had on the fire-escape you’d turned into a nice enough little balcony. A warm cup of coffee clutched by your cold fingers as the autumn morning breeze chilled them. 

The apartment across from yours had been empty for some time, not that you minded at all. Their fire escape was no more than 10 feet away from yours, the buildings almost hugging in this gridlocked city you moved to. 

But today it seemed your peace was over, as you could see through the window that someone was moving in. You sighed briefly as you stood, empty mug in hand as you stepped back into your apartment through the small window before closing it behind you, catching a glimpse of who you presume would be your new neighbor. 

He peered at you through his own window, a small curious smile playing on his lips as he gave you a small wave. 

You returned it, giving a small smile of your own before you turned away. 

One of the thing’s you found yourself grateful for was the size of your apartment. It wasn’t large or glamorous by any stretch of the imagination, but you had enough room for a small art studio in one of the bedrooms. 

You smiled to yourself almost unconsciously as you eyed down a blank canvas, the gentle features of your new neighbor flooding your mind, and you wondered for a moment how often you’d have to run into him. 

-

You leaned against the front door to your apartment as it shut, a deep wave of relief washing over you to finally be home. The late-night shifts at your job always had been the most draining, and today was no different. 

You slid off your jacket after you finally managed to push yourself from the door and hung it on the rack. As you reached up to hang it, the sleeve of your sweater raised up slightly, revealing the scars you’d long-since stopped collecting. They served as reminder as to why you stopped, but from time-to-time, they seemed more to be egging you on rather than reminding you why you stopped. 

Another small sigh left your lips as you gently rubbed over your wrist, before pulling your sleeve back down. 

After making yourself a cup of tea and grabbing your sketchbook, you headed over to the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. You sat down and brought your knees up, resting your sketchbook on them as you opened up to a fresh page. Your new neighbor had decorated his own fire escape with plants and fairy lights, a very nice sight in comparison to the empty one it’d been days before. 

You began to sketch the scene in front of you, looking up every so often to refresh your memory, but this time when you looked up, the man that’d waved at you a few days prior was standing in front of you, a cup of coffee in his hands as he stood out on his fire escape; looking at you with another one of his small smiles. 

“Hope you don’t mind, I used yours as inspiration,” You sat confused for a second before realizing he was referring to your own “balcony”. 

“Not at all, gives me something new to look at,” You smiled, going back down to your drawing, copying down the way the vines of one of his plants wrapped around the railing. 

“What are you doing up so late, anyways?” He asked, now leaning over an un-occupied portion of the railing. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, not looking up from your paper. 

“I just got off work,” you smiled, looking up briefly with the intention of getting another look at how the lights were hanging, but instead just looked at him and back down again. 

“Me too.” 

-

As weeks passed, you’d gotten to know the man with the pretty fire escape, Yoongi, pretty well. You both got off work around the same time and made your way out so you could talk to one another, and tonight was no different. 

“You can’t just tell me that you paint and then refuse to show me anything you’ve painted, that’s just cruel!” You giggled, pulling your jacket closer to your body as the cool air nipped at your skin. 

“I wouldn’t say cruel, I was just making conversation! How was I supposed to know that you’d want to see it?” You smiled lightly, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you looked up at the night sky, Something Yoongi and you had started doing so you could point out different constellations to one another, and now continue doing so you can talk for more  time without having to sit up. 

“Who hears about someone doing any form of art and doesn’t immediately want to experience it? That’s like going up to someone and telling them you have fresh-baked brownies but and not letting them have any,” 

“What if I made the brownies for myself? I didn’t go through all the trouble of baking a whole pan of brownies just to hand them out to people, I made the brownies so I could eat them.” 

“Ah, an artist who creates for themselves, keeping the beauty of their creations to themselves while the rest of the world remains blissfully unaware of what it could be experiencing. Truly the most cruel act I can imagine,” His voice was more serious than his previous digs at you, but even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling as he spoke. 

“That’s a lot easier to say when you don’t have art to hide. When it’s just yours you can appreciate it, the work you put into it and the flaws that make it yours. But when showing it to others, they might not have the same appreciation for it,” 

While it was true that there was a point in time where you desperately wanted the world to see what you’d spent so much time creating, that time has long since passed; the words of the ones you’d shown your art to etched into your brain and no matter how much you tried to shake them away, they still cling in your memory. 

There was a silence, not an uncomfortable or long one, but one where you both sat and thought about what was said, still staring up at the stars that twinkled softly. 

“I make music, you know,” You looked over at him, suddenly less engulfed in the way the stars shone and more interested in whatever Yoongi had to say; yet his gaze remained fixed up at the sky. “I never wanted to show anyone until one day I did, and now…” he was silent, but you could see his lips begin to curve upward before you decided to turn your attention back to the sky.

“Well now I let the world listen, and in return, it thanks me.”

-

You were honestly half-asleep on your sofa when a gentle knock on your door startled you back to the land of the living. You stood up and paused the show and threw your blanket over your couch, having no idea who could possibly be here and how judgmental they would be about blanket-placement. 

You opened your door to see Yoongi, smiling somewhat nervously. You turned and peered at the time on your stove, surprised that it was already nearly 3 in the morning. 

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind, I just thought we could like actually hang out, instead of just sitting on the fire escape,” he noticed your hesitation and quickly spoke again. “I meant like out for a coffee or something, you don’t have to invite me in-” 

“Yeah sure, sorry, I’m still half asleep. You can come in while I change,” You stepped aside and opened your door a little further to allow him in. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back,” 

You smiled as you closed the door and swiftly moved back to your room to but on something more inappropriate than sweatpants and the oversized t-shirts of one of your ex’s. 

You walked back out to the living room, but he wasn’t there. You furrowed your brow briefly before you realized that there was only one other room he could possibly be in. You ran to your studio, the lights now on with Yoongi staring at all the paintings you had propped up against the wall. 

“These are…” He trailed off, never taking his eyes away from your work to acknowledge you were even in the room. 

“Not really that great, I know, but they weren’t really meant to be seen-” 

“Y/n, these are amazing,” He looked at you now, his smile shining brightly before he looked back at them, almost in disbelief at how good they were, at how good you were. “How have you never shown these to anyone?” 

You silently leaned up against the wall, thinking back to the last time you had shown someone. “The last person that saw anything I made had a very different reaction than you,” He tore his eyes away from them and moved them to you, confusion strewn about his features, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone seeing your art any differently than he had. 

“It was a long time ago, anyway,” You looked down at your feet, shifting awkwardly as you tried to move on from the tense moment. “He just didn’t really like anything that wasn’t perfect, and everything I make is full of flaws.” 

“But that’s what makes it beautiful, isn’t it?” He asks, taking a few steps closer to you. “Like with most things, the more flawed; the more human that they are, the more beautiful they are,” He was right in front of you now, taking in your features as you did his, much different now in decent lighting and not from completely different buildings. 

He was much softer than he seemed from the fire escape. His eyes warmer and cheeks fuller, he almost seemed ethereal standing in front of you, praising the art you poured your heart and soul into. 

He reached out for your hands, pulling your sleeve up slightly where he feels the healed-over ridges of what once was the worst pain you’ve ever felt, and your heart jumped; someone seeing both your art and your scars within the same 3-minute window of time being much too vulnerable for you. 

He looked down at your arm, wanting to fully see what he was feeling, not fully believing his first thought when he felt them. 

Your arm pulled out flat in front of him as he gently pushed your sleeve up further to reveal more of the scars that littered your body. 

“More of that flawed, human stuff,” You spoke softly, trying to make a joke that came out sounding a lot more depressing than you had intended it to be. 

He brushed his thumb over it softly, realizing he’d stumbled into much more than an art studio when he came over for an innocent cup of coffee. 

Moving almost as if he had no control over his actions, his hands moved to your cheeks and his lips to yours, engulfing you in a kiss that portrayed so much more than words ever could. 

The voices in your head telling you all the negative things about yourself fell away as he filled you with positivity; filled you with reassurance and understanding that no one else had been able to offer you with all the words that they knew. 

He softly pulled away, your foreheads connected and his hands still cupping your face as you opened your eyes to see him already looking back at you with his warm dark eyes. 

“And all the more beautiful it makes you.”

#yoongi #min yoongi #myg #Yoongi fic #Yoongi oneshot #suga #Yoongi bts #bts oneshot #suga oneshot #suga fic #myg fic #myg oneshot #bts fic #Yoongi fluff #Yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #myg fluff #bts fluff #fluff #angst #oneshot #fanfic #kpop #bts fanfic

[elizabethemerald]

A Shade Darker than Red: Part 7

Jason, Jazz and Danny sat together in Danny’s home. The building had once been home to the infamous Fentonworks but now had been sitting seemingly abandoned. Jazz had technically inherited the building but she wasn’t interested in ever living in it again. It did however make a good Living World base of operations for Team Phantom. 

The interior of the house was almost completely unrecognizable from what it had been before. Danny had refitted the living room with comfortable bean bag chairs and rugs. He had demolished most of the interior walls, leaving just enough load-bearing pillars to keep the roof up. Most of the raw material had been used to completely fill in the lab in the basement. No one would ever be hurt in that lab again. 

The trio of them were laying in an unfinished circle. Jazz had kicked off her shoes and laid down first, stretching out like a cat in the sun. Danny had dropped on her almost immediately, drawing a small grunt and half-hearted, “Danny!” from her lips. He laid with his head on her stomach, his ghost tail curling and twisting for a moment before it settled down into legs. With a flash of light Danny again took on his now infrequently used human form. 

Jason had hesitated, hovering in the air above them for a few minutes before Danny gestured him down. When he finally settled on the ground he kept his tail twirling around himself almost like he was sitting criss cross. Of course Danny wasn’t having that and playfully wrestled Jason until he was also laying out, his head on Danny’s stomach. 

Jazz laughed at the two boys and began combing her fingers through Danny’s hair, humming softly to herself as she did so. Danny copied her and began doing the same to Jason’s hair, even though Jay’s hair kept returning to how it had sat. Perks of being a ghost, he never needed to worry about styling his hair again. 

They sat like that together for a few quiet moments. It had been a month since the funeral and Jason had said he wanted to talk to the two of them, but he kept getting anxious when he wanted to bring it up, so Jazz insisted on as casual an environment as they could get so he would feel comfortable. Her help had been so amazing through the past month and before that as he came to grips with both his death and his murder at the hands of the man he had once treated as a father. 

Finally after a few minutes of relaxing at the feeling of Danny’s touch in his hair and the sound of Jazz’s humming Jason felt comfortable enough to bring up what was on his mind. He was still nervous because he was terrified of them turning away from him after what he was about to say. 

“Hey guys,” he started, focusing his gaze on the stars Danny had painted on the ceiling as he spoke. “I think I would like to avenge my death.” 

Jazz had stopped humming when he started speaking and now gave a short thoughtful hum. Danny’s hands hadn’t stilled in his hair. 

“You know you don’t have to avenge your own death right?” Jason was surprised by that and partially turned so he could look up at Danny. “You’re still just a baby ghost, it’s not your responsibility to avenge yourself. An older ghost should take care of that for you.” 

“I’m not a child!” Jason said, childishly. The others chose not to comment on his tone. 

“You’re still a very young ghost.” Jazz explained, her voice calm. “If it weren’t for your exposure to ectoplasm prior to your death you wouldn’t even have fully formed a core at this point. You would still be vulnerable. That’s why the Realms have a code of honor for older ghosts to avenge the deaths of younger ghosts.” 

“Oh. Then who would avenge my death?” 

“I would obviously.” Danny said immediately. “Even if I hadn’t basically ghost adopted you into our family, I was the first ghost who found you after you formed. I consider it not just a responsibility but a privilege.” 

Jason had to sit up and meet Danny’s eyes at that. 

“Really?”

“Yes. The only reason I haven’t done it already is because I was waiting for you to be ready. It’s your life that’s being avenged. I will avenge it exactly as you wish.” 

Jason had to lay back down to think about that for a few minutes. Danny began playing with his hair again while Jazz continued her soft humming. She was humming one of Ember’s songs if Jason remembered correctly. 

He honestly hadn’t expected Danny to be so on board for vengeance, much less to volunteer to do it himself. He was still getting used to people caring about his wishes. Then a thought occurred to him. 

“Wait a minute, then who avenged your death?” 

“I did.” Jazz responded. 

Jason again had to meet her eyes in surprise. He never would have expected his sister/therapist/grief counselor to have enacted a plan of revenge, though maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Seeing his questioning look, Jazz continued speaking. 

“Honestly we had argued about it back and forth ever since Danny died.” She said, then Danny spoke next. 

“For a long time, I considered my death a mere accident.” 

The two of them continued trading off on the story, Jason listening silently. 

“But the accident wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for negligence on their part. And their actions after his death made the decision easy for me.” 

“Then it was all a question of who would get to them first.” 

“Turns out my plan was faster.” 

“Of course it was! You had been planning yours for way longer than I had!” There was a trace of a laugh in Danny’s voice, though Jazz’s remained serious. 

“Of course I had. I knew what they were doing was wrong as soon as I read and understood the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Even more so once I read the Meta-protection acts. In the end the plan was easy. I just had to play on their own insane biases.” 

Jazz changed her voice to make herself sound younger and more excited. 

“Isn’t it strange how Superman’s powers are just like those of a ghost? Do you think he could be a long term possession?” Her voice returned to normal, with a tight edge of anger hidden underneath. “They of course drove out to Metropolis immediately. Danny and I forwarded their plans to capture and destroy Superman to the Justice League under the guise of scared civilians. Jack and Maddie got there first and put their plan in action, and like with everything they do, innocent people got hurt.”

She had to pause for a moment to clear her throat before she continued. 

“Of course the fallout from that was more than even I had planned. A hidden loophole to the meta protection laws that allowed indiscriminate torture, experimentation and annihilation of meta adjacent beings made international news. The Justice League closed that loophole then went after the Guys in White with a vengeance. All our parents' research was handed over. All of the monstrous things they had done, and all their horrible backwards biases that they used to justify their cruelty. Including the video of Danny’s death and torture.” She took a deep breath to calm her fury, then finished in a smug voice. “Life in prison. For both of them.” 

Jason thought about that, he vaguely remembered reading up on that news while he was trying to catch up on everything he had missed after he died the first time. After the GIW were destroyed, all ghosts and ecto beings were given the same rights as all other sentient and sapient species. The Justice League established a special hotline for citizens to inform them about ghostly activity. 

Danny had explained that he had created a Royal Edict and ordered all ghosts to keep their interactions with humans to a minimum for the next several years. He didn’t want to outright order them never to interact and end up destroying a ghost’s obsession, but he wanted the very idea of ghosts and the Infinite Realms to fade from the public consciousness to prevent any risks to the ghosts or the Realms themselves. 

“Jack and Maddie are still alive?” Jason finally asked after he had thought about their story for a moment. He felt Danny’s hands tighten in his hair before with a conscious effort, Danny forced himself to relax. 

“No. Jazz avenged their crimes against me. I avenged their crimes against another.” His voice was hard as ice and twice as cold. “My- my younger sister. Danielle.” 

It was Danny’s turn to take a shaky breath before continuing.

“Danielle or Ellie, was my clone, a half ghost, just like me. My fruitloop of a godfather wanted to kill my dad, marry my mom and make me his perfect son. When I refused to be his heir he stole my DNA and cloned me. Most of the clones didn’t make it. Ellie was the only one who was stable enough to survive. She fought against his programming to be our friend, rather than trying to kill me. She had some health problems but over all we did the best we could to help her live her best life.”

“She loved traveling.” Jazz said, her voice a little wistful. “She wanted to see the entire world. She was always sending us pictures of her at different locations around the world. Every few months she would come home with a new souvenir. Any time she called she would have some new and fun story about such and such country or city.”

“Ellie took to languages like a duck to water.” Danny said. “Here I was struggling to master Ghost Speak and failing English and she was having philosophical debates in Cantonese or a dialect of Arabic I hadn’t even heard of.”

Jason could feel the gulf of grief that surrounded the other two. He could feel the hole left behind by Danielle. The perfect spot in their little circle where she could have been, her head resting on his stomach and Jazz resting on hers. He would be playing with her hair, longer than her brother’s but probably just as light and floaty. He could almost see the way Ellie would try to braid Jazz’s hair, attempting styles she had seen among her travels. 

He could have talked with her about his own travels, the countries he’s seen and the martial arts he learned there. The two of them could have made fun of Danny for having no spice tolerance. He could have shown her how to bake, and shared some of his favorite books with her. He felt Danny and Jazz’s grief and longing for Danielle almost as if it were his own. 

“What happened to her?” He asked softly. 

“Jack and Maddie had scattered ghost traps all across the country. We tried to remove all the traps, but they barely took notes on where they were, and we couldn’t find them all.” 

“Like mines being buried all over Europe after the World Wars, just waiting for a child to find them.” Jason could feel his gut curl up in fear and anger. 

“Exactly.” Danny sighed, breathing out a little bit of frost as he tried to keep his emotions even. “Ellie had found one of the traps. She had sensed the ectoplasm of a bunch of blob ghosts that were caught in the trap. She couldn’t just leave them there. So she tried to free them. Apparently it was a newer design that we hadn’t seen before. Designed to stop anyone from tampering with the trap and freeing the ghosts.” 

“And in their mind, the only thing that would care about a ghost enough to try and free it was another ghost.” Jazz’s voice was as bitter as black coffee. 

“If a human had encountered the trap they would have died just about instantly. All but the most durable of metas would have been horribly maimed by it. Even a fully formed ghost would have been brought to the very edge of nonbeing, and only a few of us could have survived.” 

Danny’s voice was shaky, and his fingers in Jason’s hair had taken on a mechanical movement, as if he weren’t aware he was doing it, and only stimming to keep his mind functioning. 

“Ellie was never the most stable.” Danny continued, his voice breaking. “I felt her pain. I wasn’t fast enough to save her. Only fast enough to hold her as she fell apart.” 

Jason reached up and grabbed at Danny’s hands as the other ghost sobbed. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to continue, but underneath the sorrow that Danny was filling the room with was a burning rage that made him keep speaking even past his tears. 

“Ellie was my family. It was my responsibility to avenge her death. And I did.” He grit the words out. “Jack and Maddie were already in prison for what they had done to Superman and Metropolis to say nothing of their other crimes against ghosts. I went intangible and snuck past the security of the prison to get to their cells.” 

His words died, unable to continue past his emotions any longer. Jazz finished in a somber voice. 

“Madeline Fenton slipped in the showers and broke her neck. Jack Fenton was overcome with regret for his actions and committed suicide in his cell.” 

“What if they had become ghosts?” Jason couldn’t stop the question even in this serious moment. He was only marginally surprised by Danny’s dry, humorless laugh. 

“Their souls are bound for the worst cells in Walker’s Prison for a millenia or more. If they ever form as ghosts, they will spend their time in a place where every single one of their jailers is a ghost and knows exactly what they’ve done to ghosts in the past.” 

Jason was quiet. They really were willing to do whatever it took to avenge a death. Jazz sent both of the Fentons to prison for life for killing her brother, and Danny killed them himself for killing his sister. Unlike Bruce who had refused to bend his rule about killing only for the Joker to kill hundreds or maybe even thousands more. He had paralyzed Barbara and Bruce had done nothing. Then he had crossed his own line and beaten Jason to death. 

“Jay, you said you wanted revenge? You name it and we’ll do it.” Danny said, his voice completely serious and only a little hoarse from his tears. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to do anything about Bruce. I can’t- I don’t- I’m just not ready.” Jason said. He was still coming to terms with what Bruce had done to him. 

“That’s ok Jason. This happens on your terms. Whatever you need.” Jazz said, reaching across their circle to grab his hand and give a quick squeeze. 

“I can’t deal with Bruce. But maybe, it would be nice to deal with the Joker?” His voice was still hesitant. 

“Deal, buddy. You tell me what you want. And I’ll make it happen.” 

“Deal. Thanks Danny, Jazz.” 

.

It was some hours later that alarms around Arkham Asylum started blaring. At first the guards were worried about a break out, none of them wanted the Clown Prince of Crime back on the streets of Gotham. Then they realized it wasn’t a break out. Someone had broken In to get to Joker’s cell. 

#dp x dc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #a shade darker than red #death of jason todd

[skylarmoon71]

Miguel O Hara (Across the Spider Verse)- Oneshot

From the moment he saw you he could already feel the migraine coming.

"Miguel!! What's up my amigo!"

You were wearing an oversized shirt with a spider insignia over your suit as you held your mask in your hand grinning.

"Like the shirt, I got it from earth 56. They really love Polly over there. She's awesome. I got a large one, so you can borrow it if you want." You slipped it off, tossing it on the chair.

Lyla was smiling as Miguel ignored you, sifting through his files.

"So what mission do you have for me today? Another anomaly adventure? Sign me up!!"

"Right now we're just tracking the activity. This isn't an adventure." He sent you that unimpressed stare in which you returned with a smile.

"Why you always gotta be so brooding all the time, can't you be more like Peter B."

"If you like him so much why don't you just marry him."

It was a grumble, followed by what you could only assume was a curse.

"Oh I would, but last time I checked he's already married. I can't even be jealous about it. Have you seen Mayday? She's adorable!!"

"She is very adorable." Lyla agreed.

Miguel sent the holograph an angry glare. In which she glitched away.

The door behind opened and in walked Peter.

"Hey guys sorry I'm late. Mayday and I were playing this really fun game and I-"

"Not interested." Miguel groused.

"Right, right. I forgot you're the killjoy spider man." You laughed and Peter smiled at you as Mayday jumped into your arms.

Peter and Miguel had gotten into a conversation. With every word they exchanged, you took a calculated step back.

"I hope you're not trying to kidnap Mayday again." You froze.

"I mean, is it kidnapping? It isn't, right Mayday?" She smiled, hugging your neck and that was it.

You took off in a sprint.

"HEY! BRING BACK MY KID!!!"

Mayday was giggling the entire way out as Peter chased after you.

Miguel just rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knows he should be used to it by now, but it was still irritating.

Sometimes he wondered why he even tried.

His eyes shifted towards the door and Lyla popped up next to his shoulder.

"If you were nicer to her maybe she would chase after you instead." She teased.

Sometimes he regretted creating such a perceptive AI.

~~

Miguel was used to it.

Your unnaturally bubbly personality. In a way, he supposed he preferred it. Because unlike a lot of the other arachnid heroes here, your abilities weren't gained through an accidental bite.

You were the product of an experiment by a literal mad scientist. You trusted the wrong people. Which he couldn't truly blame you for. Being an orphan didn't exactly provide a long list of people you could rely on.

He didn't understand why he felt protective.

Every hero under his care had a story. None of them did this job without some kind of trauma. Yet, when he saw you, that's not what he saw.

"Boss man!!"

Miguel grunted as he caught you mid air, swinging to the roof of a building nearby. The second he landed, his glare fixed on you. In which you merely returned with a smile.

"Good catch." You complimented. Miguel rolled his eyes.

He placed you on your feet, turning back to the chaos that was unfolding. Peter and Gwen were struggling to stop the newest anomaly and you had just narrowly avoided an attack said assailant fired. Miguel was losing his patience.

"You're doing that thing with your mask again." You comment.

"Stay here and make a barrier with your webs. We're going to draw him in." You saluted.

"Sir yes sir!!"

Miguel groaned.

He just knew it would be a long day.

If anything, he should expect the antics. When you all returned that day after a long aggravating mission, he stretched his arm, ready to secure the anomaly and write up the report. Everyone else had pretty left to tend to their own matters. Peter was a literal child and Gwen and the others had the luxury of being young and naive. They understood how important these trips were, but there was so much that he couldn't share. If nothing but to keep their sanity.

The door behind him opened, and he looked back.

"Hey."

You were holding a paper bag, and Miguel raised a brow.

"I know you're going to be sitting here all night running up reports, so I figured I'd make sure you had something to eat."

You weren't wearing your spidersuit. Just a pair of sweatpants and a sweater. Miguel stepped down from the platform, taking the bag you had outstretched.

"It's from that burger place that you like. Sorry I only got three. They were about to close."

When he opened it, the scent of the sandwich actually made his body relax. He hadn't realized that this was his first meal of the day until his stomach grumbled at the smell.

You grin.

"Seems like I was just in time."

He'd never admit, but he appreciated this. Given your job description, he wasn't that shocked at the little gestures. You had a tendency to take care of people.

"Gracias."

He muttered.

You nod.

"No problem. I'm about to head out. I need to check in on some kids."

"Have you found a secured spot for them yet?"

The sad smile rose on your face as you shook your head.

"Not yet. The county doesn't have the budget, or maybe they just don't care. It's worrying. There's been a lot of gang violence in that area. I'm afraid what's going to happen if they don't find a different house."

It's times like this that he's reminded that he's not the only one shouldering the world.

"I went into social work because I wanted to fix everything. It's proving a little harder than I thought."

He could relate.

"The world is a tough place to fix, doesn't mean we should stop trying."

The statement causes your head to raise, and you smile.

"I guess you're right. You know for a stick in the mud you're really wise."

His expression turned blank.

"Goodbye."

You laugh as he turns away with his burgers in hand.

"Goodnight!"

You basically skipped out of the room, and Miguel gripped the bag, looking over his shoulder.

"She definitely has a crush on you, boss. You got a shot."

He really should make some adjustments to this nosy AI. 

#humor #miguel ohara #care #feelings #peterparker #gwen #jessica #funny stuff #trust #heroes #miguelxreader #crushes #cute #powers #spiderpeople #arachnid

[girasollake]

promise | eddie munson

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the reader tries to save eddie and dustin from the bats, and she made a promise

warnings: reader's death, angst, sadness, mourning, mentions of blood and wounds, slight s4 e9 spoilers

type: angst

a/n: ummmmmmmmmmmmm yall gonna hate me for this one<3 this is my own idea so even if it hurts you i hope you'll like it! i am devastated after vol 2:)

word count: 1400

——————————————————-

The last sounds of Master of Puppets echoed throughout the Upside Down. Three of them were running into the camper to hide, the boy broke his leg falling from the roof. The other two helped him up and quickly shoved him first behind the gate. For a moment they were happy, overjoyed, adrenaline still running through their veins. They were laughing and smiling, they did they job, they were the perfect bait. However, their happiness didn’t last long when the vicious bats started to crawl through the vents, they did their best to stop them.

“We gotta go!” Dustin screamed at the top of his lungs and started moving towards the rope.

They helped him get on the rope first, his broken leg making it really hard and the bat screeches were getting louder. (Y/n) looked at the door, her hands still pushing Dustin upwards, next her gaze settled on Eddie’s face. It was filthy, dirt and mud all over it and yet it was still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She let go of Dustin which made him fall into Eddie’s arms.

“We’re not going to make it, I’ll hold them off and you get both of you out of here.” She said quickly.

“What? No, I’m not letting you do that, no way.” Eddie replied, his voice shaky.

“We don’t have a choice. I promise I’ll be okay, I want to see you graduate this year.” She lifted the corners of her lips.

The girl stormed out of the trailer quickly, spear in one hand, shield in the other. She started banging one into the other drawing attention of the monsters to herself.

“COME GET ME ASSHOLES!”

She was running so fast. She has never run faster in her life. She prayed that she had saved them, that they could cross to the other side. After some time her chest was burning, her legs were slowly going numb. Suddenly she stopped and faced the army of bats aiming at her. She was done running, it wasn’t going to take here anywhere. Keeping them busy with herself was better because she knew she couldn’t run for much longer even if she tried. They surrounded her from every side making circles around her fragile form, she was nothing compared to them. She started pushing them away with all the strength she had left, the spare hitting whatever it could.

Meanwhile Eddie did what he was supposed to, he got Dustin to the other side, safely. He put him on a  chair where he could rest and then looked up into the gate in the ceiling.

“I can’t just leave her like that Henderson.” He whispered.

“She told you she would be fine! Come on, it’s (Y/n), you know she never breaks her promises!” He tried to make him stay, so hard.

“She should have already came back and I don’t see her here. I can’t lose her.” He said and then he started climbing.

“NO EDDIE! THAT’S A BAD IDEA!” The metalhead couldn’t hear him anymore, the only thing on his mind was his girl.

He took his own spare he had left in the Upside Down and hurried outside to help her. All this time he was reassuring himself that she was okay, that they had left her alone and she’s somewhere safe hiding. What he didn’t expect was to see her body being eaten and held by the bats.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

The bats were eating her flesh, four of them holding down her legs and arms and one choking her with the tail. She was screaming in agony, her vision was blurry and she was angry. She was angry at herself, because she promised, she promised Eddie she would be okay. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to lose her but she knew that without this they all could’ve ended up like that. All that mattered was that he was safe.

Eddie was running towards her and just before he reached his destination all of the bats drop lifelessly to the ground. (Y/n) wasn’t moving and he feared the worst.

“(Y/-), (Y/n)?” He whispered when he finally stood over her.

The image was atrocious, her blood was everywhere but then she looked at him and moved her hand up to hold his. He kneeled next to her and took her into his arms.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, oh god I was so worried. I’m going to get you to the hospital.” The words were flowing out of his mouth.

He started pulling her up but her groan stopped him.

“I just need to rest for a bit, then I’ll be okay.” She gave him a small smile with her bloodied lips. “Can you kiss me Eddie?” She whispered.

He responded with softly resting his lips on hers, the metallic taste didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“You sure you okay?” He kissed her temple. “You look pretty rough.” He chuckled.

She smiled and also let out a chuckle, her hand came up to caress his face gently.

“Graduate this year for me, okay?” A small tear fell down her cheek.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna be there, stop messing around.” His eyes started filling up with the warm liquid, the events slowly making themselves real in his mind.

“I love you Eddie Munson.”

“I love you too, you know I do. So much.” He said between his weeps, he tried to supress his cries but he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry I broke my promise.” She whispered and her head fell numb in Eddie’s embrace.

“No, no, no.” He started slowly shaking her body. “No, (Y/n), please no..” He cried so hard, his arms squeezing her the best he could.

He placed a kiss on her lips thinking this was just a joke. He thought she was playing and that she would wake up again. He didn’t want this to be real, he didn’t want to leave her there. His salty tears were falling down on her face and making soft marks on it.

“Please come back to me…” He whispered into her hair.

This was the last time he was able to smell her, hold her, kiss her. Their future plans got destroyed within seconds, he would never ask her to marry him, to move in with him, she was too young for this. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare or just maybe travel back in time and switch their places.

“Why’d you leave me?” He tried again but no one responded.

…

Eddie was so glad to have had his name cleared from all the accusations with the help of all of his friends. He really wanted 1986 to be his year and he made it his, but he couldn’t have done that without her. Just before he took his diploma he looked up to the sky and smiled. He got onto the stage and snatched the diploma from the principal and when he walked away he flipped him off. He run towards Dustin and the others embracing them in a hug. They all wanted to celebrate this but Eddie wanted to make one last stop before they headed to his trailer. Steve stopped the car at the cemetery, all of them already knowing what they are here for.

“I’ll be quick, thanks.” He patted Steve on the arm and wiggled out of his seat.

He knew the route to her grave by heart, he came there every other day, whenever he could. He sat down in front of the gravestone, he knew her body wasn’t underneath because they left her there, he couldn’t take her with him. Even with that he still had hope that she was sitting in front of him smiling, being proud of him.

“Um so.. I did it.” He took of his graduation cap and held it in his hands. “I wish you were here to see me. I mean I hope you saw me either way no matter where you are right now, god I so hope you did…I just…thank you. Thank you for helping me do this and believing in me. I promise I’ll do my best to make you proud of me.”

He wiped away the little tears streaming down his cheeks and stood up. Eddie placed his cap on the grave and whispered a quiet “I love you”.

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