#if you are crazy your graffiti will be crazy too

[redstarwriting]

the clash | iv. london calling

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst

a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)

now reading: iv. london calling

previous chapter: iii. black planet

next chapter: v. ever fallen in love

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He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”

“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”

“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”

“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”

“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”

“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.

“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”

“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”

“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.

“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”

“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”

“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Try me, Hobart.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.

“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”

With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.

“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”

“And you didn’t offer any to them?”

“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”

“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”

“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”

“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.

“Do you know how to have any fun?”

“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t care. The answer is no.”

“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”

“You actually want to share with me?”

“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”

“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”

“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”

“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”

“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”

“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”

“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”

“I helped you today, love.”

“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”

“Hmm?”

“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”

“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”

“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”

He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”

“Doing what?”

“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”

“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”

“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.

He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.

He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.

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[pinkanonwrites]

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble. 

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat. 

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway. 

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

 How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake. 

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute. 

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate. 

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?” 

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.�� 

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.” 

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure. 

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure. 

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #rumble #rumble x reader #tf rumble #g1 rumble #valveplug #long post #my writing #nsft

[leeyanyanyaaan]

Kayn x Graffiti Artist!Reader

16 / 11 / 2023

hi hi~ welcome to the start of my heartsteel x headcanon series "creatively charmed"! sorry, i cant think of a better title atm LOL anyways, this is gonna be a series of the heartsteel band with a lover who's got a creative side to them XD that's all, hope you enjoy! next up will be sett ^-^

Started with another one of days where Kayn decided to go out and wreak havoc by vandalizing everything LOL

When he does he often comes across a lot of grafitti art, this one in particular has a certain style to it

He always lets out a little chuckle when he sees it.

Now, as a fellow artist himself, he is respectful enough to not ruin that person's art, but he does his own grafitti nearby. For him it always includes his HEARTSTEEL icon and if he's feeling good then some song lyrics or a joke

This time, it was shortly after HEARTSTEEL's debut MV released, so when he left to do his usual vandalizing, he wrote "two sides to a story but they never tell my side" with a bunch of doodles. He was particularly proud of this piece, so he was planning to continue working on it the next day

What he didn't expect, however, was for someone to continue the lyrics, with "never been the kinda guy to stay inside the guidelines" written underneath, as well as some art of Kayn's scenes and even a headshot drawing of him from their single's thumbnail

Kayn was surprised and amazed to see it, and broke out into an excited shit-eating grin once he saw the artist's signature that he saw in all their other pieces

"So, looks like I captured this person's heart too. Ever the popular star I am, no?"

And so, he continued the lyrics to his verse, secretly hoping this grafitti artist will continue it again.

Which they did, and gradually, that specific wall gradually filled up with PARANOIA's lyrics from their gradual exchange, even with additional doodles of the other members, Ernest and Rhaast, and some of the funny scenes of the MV

Even mini conversations started with side comments on each others drawings, for example:

"This dog -> true MVP of HEARTSTEEL"

"The dog in the MV? His name's Ernest. (But Kayn is the real MVP)"

"LOL u come up w that name? I can see it tho ngl"

Oh right, this person doesn't know this is THE Kayn Shieda they're talking to

Anyways, this exchange made Kayn excited to come back every time (even his bandmates questioned why he goes out every night looking all excited)

Same with Rhaast actually LOL, but Kayn doesn't let him because he knows how crazy he gets when it comes to vandalizing

"I WANT A TURNNN KAYNNN" "No! I don't need you drawing 100 dicks on the wall again!" "THAT'S HOW MUCH OF A DICKHEAD YOU AREE-"

But alas, all good things must come to an end, after... 2 months, I guess? They had finished writing all the lyrics of the song and the whole wall was full of just HEARTSTEEL PARANOIA. Okay, so that's the end of it then.

Until a paper plane hit the top of Kayn's head. Annoyed, Kayn immediately lifted his head up to the direction it was thrown, yapping angrily at whoever had the fucking audacity to do that

Just as he was about to crumple the plane, he noticed writing on one of its wings, "read me!" Raising a brow curiously, he opened up the paperplane, where it revealed a username with a discord logo drawn next to it, along with your artist signature :)

I love how writing for Kayn gives me the free reign to swear AHAHAHDJSN

#heartsteel #heartsteel paranoia #heartsteel lol #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #kayn x reader #kayn #shieda kayn #kayn lol #kayn league of legends

[loreoftheforgotten]

things i think the different robins were known for other than “happy/angry/etc.”

because that’s boring (also i sorta don’t like it very much)

dick: the “expressive” robin

- very expressive

- talked a lot with his hands

- big hand motions

- gestured a lot and would often trail off in the middle of sentences to gesture instead

- in his first year you could always tell what he was thinking based off his expression

jason: the robin that “swears a lot”

- don’t get me wrong, i do actually think jason was more of the “happy” robin than dick

- but he swears a lot

- like a lot

- you can tell how he’s feeling by how many swears he uses in combination with one another

- fuck = normal emotion level

- motherfucker = slightly elevated emotion level

- motherfucking shit holy fuck = elevated emotion level

- you motherfucking asshole piece of fucking shit = very elevated emotion level

tim: the “shy” robin

- okay first of all, i don’t think he’s shy, but in comparison to how expressive the other two robins were???

- he definitely gets dubbed the shy robin by the citizens of gotham

- like he’s literally not even shy, he’s just not as loud as the other two? tim has like,, normal kid energy levels

- gotham is just used to kids with crazy insane energy levels and loud personalities which tim Does Not Have

steph: the “dare” robin

- i feel like she’d get a lot of comments about how different she is from the other robins (the most glaring difference being she’s a girl)

- obviously she quickly gets sick of this

- then she gets competitive.

- some thug: y’know the last robin did *insert thing*

- steph: OH SO YOU DARE ME TO DO IT?! YOURE DARING ME RIGHT NOW TO DO *insert thing*?!! ALRIGHT BET *does insert thing*

damian: the “art critic” robin

- gotham feels like a city with a lot of graffiti

- naturally, damian has a lot of Opinions

- he voices these Opinions. a lot.

- especially while on patrol

- sometimes they’re good Opinions, sometimes they aren’t

- damian definitely has favourite artists, and he’s voiced his Opinion enough for everyone else to know who they are too

- sometimes they leave pieces dedicated to him (he loves them but will never say it out loud. just in case)

#anyways don’t take this too seriously #this is just for shits and giggles #dc #robin dick grayson #dick grayson #robin jason todd #jason todd #robin stephanie brown #stephanie brown #robin tim drake #tim drake #robin damian #robin damian wayne #damian wayne #the robins #batfam #batfamily

[dominantslasherking]

Your work is just perfection chefs kiss you're the reason I got into the community to begin with. If you can could you perhaps wright a part 2 for David Mccal please that includes smut please😆?! Your work makes me super happy so thank you soon much.😘

David Mccall with dominant Male S/o

(Pt 2)

click here for pt 1

Backstory: Growing closer, you just realize how sinister and obsessed David is with you.

Warning: Smut + Worshiping (David likes to worship you etc)

David had made sure to be in your life as much as possible, it was clear he was possessive and hated when others tried to get romantically inclined with you.

Currently, you were at Davids's house, (A house he shared with his weird ass friends) You actually had spotted David through the window, decided to knock on the door, and wait for David.

David had instantly brightened up at your arrival. "[Name] I'm so, glad, you're here, I missed you!" David said pulling your much taller frame into a hug.

David was typically this clingy and strange towards you, with his weird friends he always acted stoic and indifferent. David was indeed strange.

"Yeah, I missed you too." You muttered it's actually only been around 2 hours with you too apart from each other, but sometimes it's actually strange not having David stick to your side like glue.

But something strange has been happening recently, all your own male friends have actually been disappearing, even your sisters Nicole's friend Gary, ended up, going missing, just because you were only on friendly terms with him.

You could only assume it was David, you knew he was actually weirdly obsessed with you, he even got a tattoo of your name on his chest, not too big though.

"Let's go to my room." David had said with a gentle smile, his eyes coldly tilting to his weird friends that he shared a house with, most of them were criminals and such.

You simply nodded as David held your hand and went up the stairs, the house was rather trashed with graffiti and stuff, but the door to David's room actually looked nice.

Just as the inside. "Surprised?" David asked, showing off his actually well-kept room, but what rather distributed you the most was the giant picture of you, with what seems to be a makeshift shrine or something..

It was confirmed by David was fucking crazy for you. And you definitely didn't want to know what was in the box just below the makeshift shrine.

David was already taking off his shirt, showing off his lean body. Slowly, giving a smile. "I just can't help it [Name]..." David slowly stated, his voice cold, "I just love you too much to not worship you." David whispered seductively going in closer, as he raised his head to look up at you, his lips smashing against yours. His movements were precise, David had gotten you hard in no time, David was also completely rock solid, his lips churning as he took your clothes off, to reveal your own body. "So fucking perfect." David had stated as he started kissing down your chest, over to your pecs, and finally to your stomach. "Amazing,--fuck.." David's whispers of praise continued.

David's kisses trailed all the way to your cock, which was being eagerly stroked. Soon after David couldn't resist, and ran over to his bedside table and grabbed the lube. "I just, need you inside me." He growled out, as you watched him quickly return back over, and lube up your cock. "Sit down." He said with a grin, you complied taking a seat on his bed, as David positioned himself onto your lap. His puckering hole, slowly diving down on your cock. "Mm." You muttered out a small groan, as David's enlightened heat enclosed onto your rod. David took in a deep breath, as he descended himself fully onto your cock, as you were balls deep inside David. His hands were a bit shaky so he rested them on your thigh, as he slowly began to ride. This gave you a perfect view of David's hole devouring your entire length in all its monstrous size.

"Ohh~--I can feel you plunge into me every time I move like-" Instead of speaking any further, David sped up his riding pase, his hole tightening each time around you. the entire room was filled with the skin-slapping of David's intense riding. David's hole was noisy and messy around your shaft. David had suddenly increased harder, basically impaling himself onto your cock, David's movements slowed a bit as he came all over his chest, his puckering hole spazzing around your cock tightly, sucking you in deep, as he slowly rode.

After a while, David had calmed down from his high, and resumed his bouncing, feeling your cock twitch only made David more excited, as he threw his head back. "Yes, yes--oh fuck--that's right! Fuck all your semen into meee---" David cried out, as suddenly you splurged right inside his hole, David's body shook from pure delight as he purposely tightened his hole to keep in all of your cum.

#fear 1996 #fear 1996 x reader #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader #slashers x male reader #David Mccall x reader #David Mccall smut #David Mccall x male reader #fear david x reader #yandere david mccall #yandere david mccall x reader #yandere david mccall x male reader #david mccall x male reader #david mccall x male reader smut #David Mccall x you #David Mccall one-shot

[missingexaltation]

In 1995 Steve gets the invite to his first high school reunion. He and Eddie talk about it and decide to go. After all, Steve hasn't seen any of his former school friends in years and wants to know how they're all doing...but more importantly he wants to see their faces when they see who he's unlawfully married to. Because he's a snarky lil' shit when he wants to be.

Eddie agrees to tag along as his plus one, promising he'll behave. Steve doesn't promise a thing though. They meet up with a lot of people they'd both forgotten about, making genuinely pleasant small talk for a while, and after Eddie makes a break for drinks, Steve suddenly comes face to face with Tommy and Carol.

---------------------------------------------

Tommy's been working in some high flying banking job since he left college, courtesy of his dad, and he's not ashamed to say that he makes the big bucks now. Carol's pregnant with their second, and is now at the stage where she's constantly exhausted, but the funny thing is that they both rake their eyes over Steve like they want to devour him. He looks good. Happy.

It's at this point that Munson, of all people, make his entrance, interrupting with a 'sorry Stevie, all they have is this weird punch thing and I'm like mostly sure it's not even alcoholic'.

Tommy gives him a look. 'Munson,' He says, 'didn't think you graduated with us.'

The tone is sly and bitchy, but Eddie just waves him off, completely unbothered. It's Steve that reaches for Eddie's hand, beams a smile at him and says 'He's my plus one, man. Been together 9 years now, crazy how time flies, huh? '

It's only a barest moment of a second where Tommy's face crumples in on itself, but he regains composure quickly. 'Oh, right.' He says, trying for even footing in the conversation because what the fuck, Steven, 'So what do you guys do for work then?'

'I don't.' Steve said, cheerfully. 'Eddie's band more than pays the bills though, we've just gotten back from the European leg of the tour. So this...' he gestures to the room, '- is great timing for us.'

Munson's lost interest already, too busy scanning the room for whatever losers he used to hang out with. He's never liked Tommy, so it tracks. Tommy's never liked him either, the weird freak that he is...was. He has more tattoos though, Tommy can see one winding up and around his neck, and on the back of his hands. He briefly wonders whether he's got more, but tables that thought for never.

Tommy's brain was already working overtime. He didn't think that Steve had changed that much, but he's one of them? Munson, sure. That was pretty standard, even before everyone thought he was a serial killer. Hell, there was probably still graffiti with his name and the services he 'offered' on it somewhere in the building. But Steve? He times back into the conversation, hoping he's not missed much.

'-the same band, different name.' Munson's saying. 'Probably not your sort of music though, Hagans-'

'Yeah but loads of people have heard the new single, Eds. It's in the top ten.' Steve interjects, all fucking heart eyes. He turns back to them and sings the tune of something that sounds actually kind of familiar.

'Wait that's you?' Carol squeaks. 'Tyler, my brother Tyler, is like obsessed with that song, I swear on my life.'

Munson just shrugs, like her opinion is beneath him, and Tommy's blood boils. Munson's always been able to get under everyone's skin, without even trying, but Carol's his wife and there's no way he's standing for that.

But Munson's not paying him any attention, he's scribbling on a piece of paper and handing it over. 'If he wants it,' He says, 'your brother I mean.'

Then he's looking across the room and his face lights up. 'Danny P!' He yells, making a break for it and grabbing some unsuspecting guy around the shoulders, spinning him like he's a ballroom dancer. Steve's left holding his drink, but doesn't seem to mind. He just laughs, and gives Tommy an absent kind of nod. And that hurts more than anything.

'Good to see you man.' Steve says, and that's that. He follows Munson across the room and watches as he's introduced to some guy Tommy doesn't even remember.

Carol's left holding Munson's signature, his fucking autograph, like she's been frozen stiff.

'Holy shit.' She says, not even looking up at her husband. 'Tyler's gonna freak.'

Tommy doesn't even think about it for days later, until he's at work of all places. He's sitting in his office, scanning through the newspaper while he waits for his next meeting. He's certainly not expecting to see Munson's face taking up half a page in the entertainment section, with a couple of vaguely familiar faces.

CORRODED CONSCIENCE RETURN FOR ONE-OFF GIG ON HOME TURF!

He scans through the article, the usual bullshit of talking the band up, how it's good to be home, yada yada yada, but it's the caption under the picture that makes him pause.

CC (left to right): Gareth Jones (drums), Jeff Springer (guitar), Violet Cooper (vocals), Dani Jackson (bass) and Eddie Harrington (guitar).

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things ficlet #Tommy Hagan #Carol Perkins #Steddie attending Steve's reunion first because Eddie didn't graduate until '86 #third person views into their relationship is so much fun #rockstar!eddie #Hawkins not acknowledging Eddie's career (and the rest of the band) as a success story is so funny to me...the feeling is mutual tho 😂 #HC that Eddie changed his name when he and Steve got 'married' in '91...because people kept asking him about 'the Munson murders' of '86 #also i think it's canon that Tommy had a crush on Steve? isn't that what the actor said? i love that for him...but he's still a dick #also...they changed the band name (vaguely) because of similar reasons...fucking satanic panic bullshit 😂

[supercap2319]

He wasn't sure how it worked, and he won't try to understand how it worked. The only thing that matters is that it did work. It worked too well for Y/N's liking. Damn spells and their unpredictable outcomes.

It all started when he was practicing a spell from a spellbook his father had given him from Hecate. Y/N wasn't even sure if he could do magic the same way as Mal, but he had to try. It's probably how this happened in the first place.

He said the spell to transport him somewhere else, and he was hoping that meant somewhere else in Auradon, not in another universe. He disappeared and reappeared on the Isle of the Lost. Y/N tried not to feel unnerved being back here, but it's when he realized that something wasn't right here.

There were no graffiti tags with Maleficent, Jafar, Cruella, Evil Queen, or Hades and Chernabog. Instead, they were replaced by wall art of Beast, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Fa Mulan. What the hell was going on here? Why was there art of heroes all over the Isle?

Before he could ponder anything else, Y/N heard a loud roar behind him, and he turned to see Ben jumping down from a rooftop. It was definitely Bem all right, but the rest of him? No so much. He wore a black leather jacket and ripped jeans. He had a navy blue shirt underneath his jacket, and he was big and muscular. When he snarled, Y/N could see his sharp fangs.

"What the fuck are you doing in the Beast Gangs' territory?"

"Beast Gang? Ben, what the hell is going on here?" Y/N asked.

"I'll tell you what's going on here." Ben's nails extended to claws. "I don't like trespassers. Especially from the place that condemned us to this fucking shit island!" He took a swipe as Y/N backed up. "What the fuck, Ben? Have you lost your mind?"

Ben smirks. "Oh, you have no idea how crazy I can be." He roared and charged towards Y/N.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #ben florian #ben beast #ben florian x male reader #Ben Beast x male reader #mitchell hope #descendants #descendants x reader #au #alternative universe #heroes are the villains #villains are the heroes

[charmedbystars]

you don't get it (e-1610 miles morales)

pairing: e-1610 miles x reader (unrequited)

summary: you try to understand miles, but you cant.

a/n: this is the first time i try writing something so i'm so sorry if it's bad. plz leave suggestions and stuff if ya want! also debating a part 2 but i hate this sooo i don't know yet...

you and miles grew up together. making an oath to stick together for the rest of your lives in the sandbox of a park about two blocks from miles’ apartment. and you guys sure stuck to that oath. from crying about getting sand in each other’s eyes, going through the awkward teenage phase (and miles still going through it), to being accepted into the same school. you guys were inseparable. 

recently, you found out about miles’ secret vigilante identity. you didn’t take it very well and constantly scolded miles about his safety, but you were glad he chose to trust you. 

of course, when it came to trust it came with knowing other stuff too… such as knowing who gwen was. and to make it even better, since you were the only person (other than ganke) that he can go on to talk about her, you became a victim of listening to the constant babble of gwen this and gwen that. you literally didn’t know how much longer you can take it, especially with those feelings of yours bubbling in your stomach. 

of course… how cliché of you to be in love with your best friend of years. plus your best friend being the super oblivious miles did not make it any better. 

anyways going back, you didn’t know how to tell miles that you’re in love with him without ruining your years of friendship or how to just simply ask him to shut the fuck up about gwen without hurting his feelings. you literally didn’t know how he could talk about her for hours without getting tired (although if someone asked you about miles, you would go on for ages, but that’s different) and the number of times you’ve caught him sketching her in his journal has become freaky. 

you love miles but this is just getting tiring. you want things to be how they were. when you guys would sneak up to the roof and talk about the stars or sneak out to do some graffiti. now it’s just cancelled plans, late texts backs, and constant excuses. and that’s how you are now, sitting outside the steps of miles’ apartment waiting for him to arrive with the cakes for his dad’s promotion party. you look down at your phone and open it again to see if he responded.

you: hey miles im outside waiting 4 you

you: dont forget the cakes and stay safe

you: lemme know when you arrive plz

Delivered 

you sighed for the twentieth time, wondering when miles was going to arrive. you just sat outside on the steps to his apartment when about ten minutes later you hear a crash. you stand and squint looking up. 

“y/n! come upstairs so we can enter the rooftop together,” there was miles, head handing outside his window. you nodded your head and headed upstairs to his apartment. you didn’t even bother knocking and simply just barging into his house. walking into his room, you see miles rushing to get his shoes on. 

leaning against the wall, you stared down at miles, “so what was it this time? it better be good enough that you’re late to your own father’s party”

“yes i knowww, i just got caught up doing some stuff. the villian today was super weird though and then i almost lost the cakes, but you know what? none of that matters because i’m here now!” he gave you one of his wide smiles.

you couldn’t stay serious with him when you gave you that smile. you yourself cracked a smile, shaking your head. “okay, noted. crazy day for spiderman, now hurry up and get your shoes on faster because one more minute longer and your mom is gonna freak.”

“well seems like my mom is already freaking,” miles smugly looked at you while standing up, grabbing the cakes and leaving you behind. you grumbled and just followed behind him. 

arriving to the rooftop, you can already see miles’ mom looking around and as if she sensed miles, she quickly walked over to you guys. 

“miles donde estabas? you’re late to your own dad’s party? y/n thank you so much for getting miles here,” miles’ brows furrowed as his mom gave you all the glory for him being there.

“mom what? i got here just fine!” 

“no, thank y/n because i know she’s the responsible one out of the two of you,” you gave miles the same smug look that he gave you earlier and tilted your head a little higher.

“anyways, grab something to eat. miles, ven porque your dad and i want to talk to you for a minute” rio gave her son a look. 

you simply nodded your head and strolled off to make yourself a plate. sitting down on a bench somewhere, you tried to block out and avert your gaze from miles’ parents yelling at him. you felt bad that you couldn’t do anything especially when you know so much about him that others don’t understand. 

about an hour has passed since miles’ scolding and you didn’t want to approach him directly after to save him from embarrassment and allow him to take a few minutes to himself. you assumed that he went to his room and would come back in a couple minutes because you knew he wouldn’t completely miss his dad’s party. 

you engaged in small conversations with miles’ cousins and family members, but after a while they left to go eat or do their own thing. resorting to scrolling through your phone and watching a couple tiktoks when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“mija, quien es esa que esta arriba con miles?” rio tilted her head in the direction where miles was. surprising you completely, miles was on the water tower with gwen laughing and nudging each other. looking and them and snapping your head back to rio who seemed a but agitated with her eyebrows quirked up. 

“uhh.. i think that’s gwanda? one of miles’ friends but she’s usually out of town. miles’ never mentioned her coming though…” you simply shrugged your shoulders. feeling a heavy weight in your stomach, you tried not to look over at them again. 

approaching behind rio was jeff. he had a similar expression as rio, brows furrowed and scratching his head. 

“she looks old enough to vote… and i bet she doesn’t even speak spanish,” rio kept talking about gwen which didn’t help you trying to block out the sinking feeling. jeff crossed his arms and kept looking over at them. 

somehow, rio convinced you and jeff to go up to the water tower and meet gwen. now, you’ve never met gwen but you sure have heard enough about her to know that she’s not a bad person. 

rio was stumbling to get up the tower and introduce herself to gwen. crashing into miles slightly, not caring a bit if she interrupted anything. “hello! i’m miles’ mom,”

“rio! i’ve heard so much about you!” immediately hearing those words come out of gwen’s mouth, you winced. you knew that rio was not about having first name bases with any one of miles’ friends. you glanced over at miles’ expression who seemed a bit worried. 

looking at the interaction was a bit odd and very awkward, especially with you standing next to miles’ parents doing nothing. you didn’t want to make a move to introduce yourself either, you didn’t know if there was anything for you to say really. honestly rio’s jokes weren’t making it any better either. hearing “don’t take him from me.. oh! you can’t cause he’s grounded haha” and “don’t break his heart” coming from rio’s mouth was just making you want to get bitten by a spider so you can turn invisible in that moment. 

gwen trying to escape the moment made up that she needed to get her steps in and go. turning around to give miles a handshake, she glanced over, noticing you in the corner. not wanting to be rude, you just gave a wave. she gave you a small smile until taking off down the stairs. 

once she left, jeff also left to return to the party leaving miles, rio, and you behind. miles ignored both of your presence and leaned against the railing, shoving his face into his hands. you went up to miles and rubbed his back.

“i’m sorry miles,” he glanced over at you and gave a sigh. you looked over you shoulder and looked at rio. she seemed to be thinking. deciding to give miles and his mom a little time to talk, heart to heart, you descended down the stairs. 

looking down at the city below you, millions of thoughts run through your mind. almost all of them being about miles. you wanted to help him, you wanted to be there for him in every way, but you just don’t seem enough. you didn’t know what to do and you don’t want to try to seem understanding when you have absolutely no idea what he’s going through. you just want him to feel at peace with you. there’s nothing you want more in the world than seeing miles happy. although the feeling in your stomach of knowing that miles’ happiness lies with gwen and not with you just made you nauseous, you knew you had to let him go. but, before you let him go… maybe you’ll try. 

seeing miles and his mom done talking, you see miles about to leave. getting a feel of adrenaline through your veins, you ran after him before he managed to take a step down the stairs. 

“miles! where are you going?” you cocked your head to the side.

“i’m going after gwen. there’s something going on and i’m going to follow after her,” he tapped his feet and glanced around as if he’s if a rush. 

“wait, miles what? you’re leaving? do you even know where you’re going?” 

“no, but i know that i’m needed y/n. i gotta go now like i have this feeling.” 

“wait so you’re skipping out on your dad’s celebration for a girl?”

“n- no! there’s something going on and i need to fix it” miles was starting to squirm eager to put on his suit and swing through the city.

“is there gonna be a day where you live for yourself? i understand that you’re spiderman and you help out the people, but you can’t be doing this constantly miles. you’re a highschool student and have so m-” 

“no, you don’t understand! no one understands! but there are people out there who will-”

“c’mon miles, don’t be like that. i know i don’t exactly understand because i was bitten by a spider or anything, but i’m trying to understand through you and being there for you!” the tone in your voice starts getting a bit higher.

“i just learned that there’s a way for me to see other people who are just like me! i need to go!”

“you know what miles? go. i’m trying so hard to be supportive but-”

“well you’re not. i don’t want to escalate this any farther. i’m going… bye y/n” before you could respond miles ran down the stairs leaving you with a lump in your throat. you didn’t want to start anything, you just wanted miles to try to get a piece of normality within his crazy spider life. 

sighing once more, you decided to sit on the ledge and look off into the distance wondering how you were gonna fix it between you two. 

#miles x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #across the spider verse #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #1610!miles morales x reader #miles molares #astv miles #miles morales x reader angst #miles morales x y/n #x reader #x y/n #earth 1610 #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse

[badchoicesworld]

hiii^^ could i request romantic miles x male reader where reader is really shy and quiet (+ has social anxiety if you're okay with writing that)

and (as a result of being quiet) has headphones on 24/7 and draws a lot?

(maybe add a part where he's caught drawing miles! so cliche><)

miles morales w/ an artistic boyfriend riddled with anxieties

sorry to call anyone out in the title, had a giggle about it

im holding this specific anons hand for a minute if they’ll let me, they radiate energy that makes me joyous (hi anon !!!)

established relationship

warnings: none

pairing: miles morales x male!reader

requests: check status on the masterlist

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

ABSOLUTELY RELATES TO YOU

he likes to think that he’s all suave and chill, but everyone knows he’s sheepish when met with certain situations

man can’t take a compliment, he can’t give a compliment, dates make him shake in his boots and having a boyfriend is something that’s entirely over romanticised in his head thanks to media, let’s be honest

social encounters weren’t a massive problem to him though, we’ve all seen how outgoing he is and friendly

plus, he grew up in a community where everyone knew everyone, wether you liked it or not

so he’s the “he asked for no pickles” half while you stand behind him shitting ur pants

he notices how shy you get while you’re out in public in comparison to in private, and he’s okay with that

doesn’t suddenly baby you though, just likes to check in on you every now and again until you’re back home

literally the most discreet “you good?” while stood in line or something

miles can absolutely understand coping with music, he’s the exact same way

you two share some interests, music and art ! it’s cute

he likes to suggest sharing some earphones either out in public or in private, it’s just one of those things that makes you two feel closer (he’s mad sheepish when suggesting it at first, but it eventually becomes one of those silent exchanges if ur cool with sharing) his version of romance

if he sees you with your headphones on, he won’t actively try to talk to you - from personal experience he can understand how stupidly frustrating it feels and wildly overstimulating

unless it’s something important, then he’ll try grab your attention by like tapping your shoulder or smthn,, a lil wave

makes bangin playlists for you, some to share and would be very happy if you did the same

he’s happy to do anything for his boyfriend to make him feel more comfortable in social situations.

you’re quiet, he doesn’t mind it as long as you have some kinda way to communicate with him - your needs and such

hold hands, your hands got stuck together once thanks to his spider-man-ness

if you didn’t know he was spider-man then, that’s how you found out

he’s a massive fan of drawing you and loves to see your own drawings

he’s a huge fan of you guys doing literally anything and catching you drawing with some bizarre medium without fail

caught you drawing him once- and then a lot more times

luckily, you were wearing headphones at that moment, so he got to have a lil victory emote without you noticing before acting like he never saw anything

does a very obvious, obnoxious greeting in the most cheesy way to clearly convey he never saw a thing

if by some unfortunate twist he is caught watching, man panics and is like “Hoh! I- didn’t see you there?? what’chu up to??” play it cool and smile it off miles “Wow that’s- that’s crazy how you.. caught me”

he’s been caught so many times in the past and he knows that internal feeling of dread

YOU BOTH KNOW YOU DRAW EACH OTHER UR NOT SLICK

but anxiety am i right

will not snatch your sketchbook or whatever you draw on suddenly UNLIKE SOMEONE

completely respects your privacy when it comes to your drawings, he can relate too much

that’s not to say that he isn’t curios, he sometimes likes to tease about peaking but never would without permission

if you’re both into graffiti then he’s takes you to insane spots to tag, especially once you find out he’s spiderman

likes to suggest collaborating on pieces all of the time

miles is great anatomy practice, with all his funky spider-man poses

i cant actually imagine he would hide being spider-man from you if you were dating beforehand, it’s a different conversation if it’s a new relationship

but hey, young love, am i right ?

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

#across the spiderverse #headcanon #spider man: across the spider verse #imagine #oneshot #ask #male reader #miles morales #miles x y/n #miles x you #miles x reader #miles x male reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales x male reader

[ellemaru]

Simon "Ghost" Riley General Headcanons

A/N: This is just headcanons that have popped up in my head or whatever but I'm trying my best to keep it lore accurate/based off of lore. There will be some mentions of abuse, mental health, substance abuse (alcohol and drugs) and body dysmorphia due to how his character is.

General Appearance:

Starting with appearances, I think he's 6'2-6'4 and weighs 200-230 lbs (189-195 cm and 90-104 kgs).

He has prominent muscles, but they aren't Arnold Schwarzenegger huge but still large enough to the point that most people are impressed.

He has short, blondish hair where in the winter, it darkens to a light sandy brown if he doesn't go outside.

He had more of a fair and cool undertone but after spending time in the Middle East he darkened up slightly.

Everyone he knows always debates whether his eyes are green, grey or hazel but he personally thinks they are hazel with a light blue on the edges.

His nose is slightly hooked but is also kind of crooked from the front due to it being broken a gazillion times.

General Personality:

As proven previously with the "Alone" mission, Simon is a pretty funny guy.

I feel like there's a common misconception about him that he's super serious and cold and has no emotion but that's FAAAAAALSE.

When he's not on duty I'm a firm believer he acts sassy with the others to be funny.

He obviously knows that there's a time and place for everything but he also knows when a joke or sarcastic comment is needed to lighten the mood up.

I feel like his enhanced ability to read the room kind of stems from him having to always observe and walk on eggshells with his dad in the past.

Like if he misread his mood he could've potentially gotten hurt, leading to Mama Riley defending him causing her to get hurt too but that's for another post.

Back to the humor I feel like a lot of times he's just unintentionally funny like he'll say something, and because of his delivery people laugh and he just sits there confused like "???? I didn't make a joke"

100% a workaholic with no work-life balance because who needs that when your job is your life!

Once the guy starts working, he ain't gonna stop until he says so.

Super observant, he notices the fine details so if you think you can cut corners around him? You're mistaken.

Simon is moody af but that's definitely heightened by his kinda crappy mental health.

General Family:

He hates his dad.

Did I mention he hates his father?

For sure a mama's boy but not in an "I was my son's first girlfriend" kind of way.

He looks up to his mom like crazy and still has an emotional attachment to her from when he was young due to his father being emotionally, physically, and mentally abusive to him.

Anytime he comes back from a mission, has a rough day, or just needs advice on a decision or life he ALWAYS calls Mama Riley.

She's literally his rock because he sees her as someone who is steadfast and strong who goes based on the facts and how she takes things for face value, similar to Simon. I think this also gave Simon an admiration of single mothers and women in general since he grew up with more of a perspective from his mother than his father.

He loves Tommy to bits and pieces, and they were hands down partners in crime back in their teenage years before Simon enlisted.

If you go around Manchester, you can still see some of their graffiti tags on different things.

When Tommy became a drug addict, Simon was there for him from day 1 till he finally got clean.

A/N: This isn't much but if y'all want more I can work on another that's more detailed! Requests are always open so leave some suggestions on things you want to see!

#cod #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost headcanons #ghost fluff #call of duty #call of duty headcanons #ghost riley #simon riley

[clowningaroundmars]

punkflower hcs bc i need to see more of them being cute teen boys together.... like, playful and creative and stuff

looong long wall of text under the cut (no nsfw)

♡ miles and hobie definitely exchange art often, even collabing on some punk zines and graffiti pieces occasionally. hobie also makes mixtapes on cassettes and slaps a million stickers on them just for his bf. miles appreciates the kind gesture but reminds hobie that he doesnt have a cassette player. "yet," hobie tells him with a wink :)

♡ miles draws a million little doodles for hobie on scrap paper, post it notes, hobie's gear, hobie himself. ofc hobie loves them all, esp when he gets to go home with his arms and chest covered in stars, cartoons, graffiti, and hearts

♡ miles is a lot more shy about dancing in public than hobie is, but whenever they manage to have any downtime at all hobie will wrap his arms around miles and sway them around. if music is playing anywhere, hobie will bop to it and get miles to join in

♡ hobie's love language? touch. any kind, anytime, anywhere, for any reason. words of affirmation come next

♡ miles' love language? quality time, and he's big on kissing. hobie isnt much of a kisser but loves his sunflower just the same, and does not complain at all when miles places little kisses on his hands, ears or his back

♡ sometimes hobie will be a lil mean to miles just as a flirty thing. just usual teenage boy stuff like kicking miles' sneakers, manspreading to get into his space if they're sitting anywhere together, using his height to bully miles into a corner away from everyone so they can flirt some more, crashing into miles on purpose just to be annoying

♡ anytime they get to go on multiverse missions together they somehow manage to get into the craziest shenanigans. breaking into a zoo to stop a villain from mutating the animals, saving a group of schoolkids on a field trip from a killer robot (?), one time hobie even drove a runaway car to stop it from crashing right into jamaica bay and miles was scarred for life

hobie tries to control the car as he haphazardly swerves it around pedestrians and barely manages to miss a group of elderly people.

miles clings onto his seat for dear life. "HOBIE!! you're gonna kill us man, where'd you get your license from!?" he yells.

hobie scoffs. "license?! i said i could drive, mate, i aint mention nuthin' 'bout no license!"

♡ hobie's universe is set in the 1970's and living in a dystopian police-state means it's too risky to bring back a phone with him, so he's often left out of spiderkid groupchats. miles still tries to keep him up to date on the latest memes and inside jokes though. they also have their own inside jokes too

♡ hobie wouldn't bring a smartphone with him anyways since he's so mistrusting of tech in general. video games, laptops, and "smart" tech mystify him, and smart watches? forget about it. when miles gets one for christmas one time, hobie clowned on his bf so hard the watch was never seen again

♡ that being said, they love exchanging music often so the only piece of technology hobie ever brings back to his dimension is an ancient half-busted ipod (it was probably rio's at one point) filled with music miles managed to download for him that week. spiderman-ing and living as a homeless teen means hobie doesn't get much time to explore genres outside of the UK punk scene and listening to brand new genres is often a trip! hobie finds out he loves drum n bass, grindcore, industrial techno, UK drill, deep house and 90's hip hop

♡ hobie gets miles to make him cool posters for whatever venue he plans on (or doesnt plan lbr) playing at every now and then

♡ rio LOVES hobie. hobie is the perfect gentleman (gentlespider?) around her and often tries to help her around the house when he can. miles... does not enjoy how much his mom favors his partner. jeff is also not so crazy about this smart-mouthed punk

♡ miles and hobie absolutely swap clothing as often as possible, with hobie "borrowing" miles' clothes more often. miles' parents keep commenting on how much of a rockero he looks with all the punk stuff and hobie never returns clothes without having altered them in some way (pins n bits everywhere, a mysterious rip or two here n there, pinned-up sleeves, etc)

♡ miles is absolutely horrible at cooking and feels left out when he sees hobie helping his mom in the kitchen. he desperately tries to learn, but it's a wonder how he hasnt sliced his fingers off yet trying to peel and cut platanos so they can make tostones

♡ for a person who's built like a lamppost, hobie is shockingly graceful with his movements. he always slips around a room like a cat and miles is so jealous of that. long gangly limbs should be a deterrent from moving like That and yet here he is, practically pirouetting around miles for fun

♡ which is a total TRIP when they go out swinging around a city. once the mask is on, every movement hobie makes is chaotic, frantic and unpredictable. spiderpunk and hobie are very different people sometimes

♡ rio often points out hobie's thinness as a typical hispanic mom does ("jóven, pero tu 'ta tan flaco, hobie honey come eat! i have leftovers here!") and miles also agrees that hobie could eat a lil more too. he is always sneaking bits of food into hobie's pockets or bags, saving fries and last slices for his partner. sometimes hobie brings home armfuls of tupperware filled with caribbean food back to his boat

♡ in return, hobie is like a magpie and brings back shiny gifts for them, some handmade stuff too. miles' drawers and nightstand are filled with jewelry, bottles, knickknacks, and other handmade accessories. his walls are filled with collages and zines hobie makes for him and rio bought frames for some of the pieces he makes her

♡ the first person to say "i love you" was miles, but by accident. after realizing it, he was nervous as hell worrying that hobie would clown him to death since he didnt seem like a big romantic. instead, hobie went nuts about it in his own hobie way, writing lyrics about miles' face when he said it, doodling them together more often, teasing miles about it often but lightheartedly. he flaunts miles' love whenever he can

♡ miles has a lethal puppydog face and he KNOWS it! one 🥺 look and hobie immediately folds and gives miles whatever he wants. but not before hemming and hawing about it first, playing up his hesitation just to make miles laugh

♡ speaking of laughter, hobie does Thee Most just to see his bf laugh or smile. he will always goof off in the bg, crack jokes every 2 secs and pretend to get hurt sometimes. hobie is naturally sarcastic and goofs off in general anyways but around miles he dials it up to 200

♡ hobie tries to get miles in on the whole anarchism thing but 1. the texts and manifestos from his dimension are different than miles' and 2. miles is a teen boy. he doesn't know anything about the theory of alienation or effective mutual aid and won't really care at the moment. "mm, you'll learn all 'bout it soon enough, though... eventually," hobie muses

♡ miles is not as big on pet names as hobie is. hobie has like 24984 nicknames for miles but miles mostly sticks to just calling his partner by his name. one day during history class tho a lightbulb moment happens, and when they meet up again miles is excited

"hobie!! guess what, i really got it this time. i have a nickname that i know you're gonna love!"

"spill," hobie says as he throws an arm over miles' shoulders.

"so you always call me sunflower all the time, right? and your name is ho... bee. get it? so i was thinkin' i'm gonna call you 'honey bee' now. y'know, you're not the only one who's got corny ass nicknames! it's good, right?"

hobie has to fight not to grin like a jackass

♡ hobie's sleep schedule is atrocious so whenever miles can manage it, he tries to wrestle his partner into any bed and tucks him in. hobie is touched that his sunflower cares so much about him ♡

♡ miles almost never gets permission to sleep over other friends' houses but on the rare occasions he does, he leaps into portals and goes to visit hobie in his dimension. his fave part of New London is hobie's boat, bc they set up a big hammock for them to lay in, feeling the sway of the boat and letting it lull them to sleep. not to mention that the boat itself is totally badass, and hobie more often than not encourages miles to cover it in graffiti

♡ hobie lowkey (but highkey) loves when miles gets a little bossy, forceful or stern. he loves ribbing miles about it (the "ill do it, but not cuz you told me to" line in mumbattan was a total joke from hobie btw LOL) and saying corny shit in response to a demand, but he loves seeing miles being confident and calling the shots every once in a while. it makes him proud

♡ if they can, miles and hobie try to gather up as much food as they can and take it over to the F.E.A.S.T. that's in hobie's dimension. miles meets hobie's "family" there and gets to know the community, which feels so much more tight-knit and welcoming than Visions. once miles gets over the major jarring differences between his world and hobie's, he finds he LOVES New London

♡ miles and hobie teach each other slang from their countries and time periods, you can't change my mind. miles walks around saying shit like "bloody 'ell" and "septic" all the time. the one time hobie said "deadass" completely unironically, all of the spiderkids DIED laughing

♡ miles learns that EVERY spider is a total dweeb in some way shape or form. even hobie! hobie's awkwardness comes out when theyre in big groups of people. hobie is oddly comfy with performing in front of crowds but when he's invited to parties and tries mingling, it's so... sooo awkward. miles secretly rejoices when he finds out hobie's weakness

♡ i'm an adhd hobie truther and i hc that miles buys hobie the weirdest fidget toys he can get his hands on. along with his switchblade, jewelry, and whatever he stole that day, hobie carries various different fidget toys in his vest to keep boredom at bay

♡ hobie definitely writes songs for miles but takes a very very very long time to actually admit it. miles finally finds out when one of hobie's songwriting notebooks falls open when hanging out in his boat, and hobie comes clean about it. with miles' encouragement tho, hobie makes the decision to add some of those songs into the usual setlist his band performs

♡ if miles ever has time, he tries to attend whatever gig hobie and his band has going on. he loves to see hobie perform on stage, his energy and stage presence is always electrifying

#mine #across the spiderverse #punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #stupid ass tumblr posted my 1st draft completely randomly while i was in the middle of writing this #so uh if theres any mistakes its cuz i had to rewrite ALLLL of this in my notes app #hope yall enjoy tho ♡ #i am relatively new to this fandom.... kinda? well specifically punkflower #so if these hcs are basically fanon i wouldn't know lol i just skimmed the tag on tumblr recently #im going purely off of Vibes and movie/comic canon #ive seen some good takes in the tags as well and those inspired me too!! #so ye hehehe #these 2 are giving me brainworms my god i havent even written hcs for my other OTP #i should.... probably get started on that since i kinda had fun writing this! #and uh if theres mistakes you noticed at all i also wrote most of these while.... zooted as well. so. yeah lol #spiderverse

[carlossainzwho]

traitor

hi guys :)

i'm writing this fic because i'm still trying to figure out what went wrong between isa and carlos and i thought traitor by olivia rodrigo fit well. feel free to let me know in the comments if you would like a part two, perhaps with another olivia song (yeah i love her, probably enough for you) but anyway, i hope you enjoy!

pairing - carlos sainz x fem!reader (well, she's an ex)

warnings - just grammar, i can't be bothered to proofread. perhaps a bit of swearing too. sexual references.

brown guilty eyes and little white lies yeah, i played dumb but i always knew that you talked to her, maybe did even worse i kept quiet so i could keep you

what used to be 'good morning baby' turned into nothing and what used to be a cheeky smile tuned into a frown. he told her that he would love her, no matter what, but those innocent brown eyes couldn't fool her.

y/n knew he was lying. rebecca wasn't just a friend of his. but y/n loved carlos too much to let him go.

and ain't it funny how you ran to her the second that we called it quits?

instagram posts. fans. the media. they went crazy after y/n and carlos' split. who is rebecca? who had she dated before? why did carlos move on? the real question was, how did he move on so easily?

and ain't it funny how you said you were friends now it sure as hell don't look like it

rebecca and carlos weren't just friends. slightly more, you could say. and y/n knew that.

You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt, yeah You talked to her when we were together Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter It took you two weeks to go off and date her Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor

she told herself that she wouldn't cry, that the 6 1/2 years that you two spent together weren't in vain, and he'll see what he did wrong. she loved him but he never loved her back. he left her with a broken and confused heart.

and all y/n wanted to know was what she had done wrong.

Now you bring her around Just to shut me down Show her off like she's a new trophy

y/n took to instagram to see what they were up to. there's not mistaking it - the lush brown hair, the dazzling blue eyes - no wonder carlos got bored of y/n. post after post, she saw rebecca in sparkly dresses and small bikinis with her beautiful hair going down her beautiful back, waving in the wind beautifully. everything she was insecure about. and with every swipe of her phone, y/n's heart broke to see her ex lover's hand around rebecca's waist and not hers.

Ain't it funny All the twisted games All the questions you used to avoid? Ain't it funny? Remember I brought her up And you told me I was paranoid

who's rebecca?

where's she from?

y/n laughed. she remembers carlos used to tell her that he liked british accents.

what? who? how?

rebecca's a friend, right? right?

ah, ah, ah God, I wish that you had thought this through Before I went and fell in love with you

sunset was near. summer of 2016 was lovely.

'y/n, i'm in love with you.' his lips fell on hers. from supporting him in races, to having sex, to being by his side through the worst.

all of which could only be dreamt of.

When she's sleeping in the bed we made Don't you dare forget about the way you betrayed me

walking past the graffiti in the local park that read

true love only happens once

rebecca and carlos this, rebecca and carlos that.

and as carlos lay in bed

with rebecca by his side, snoozing

he remembers looking at y/n's face

with her golden hair

and grey-green eyes

and beautiful smile

her lips on his

all of which could only be dreamt of.

a small note:

in the fic, i mentioned graffiti that said true love only happens once. this is actually from my local park and as i was cycling past it, the first person i thought of was isa hernaez. she's strong, but i know that somewhere inside of her, she misses carlos and i'm sure carlos feels the same. thank you so much for reading, you mean everything to me.

please reblog so that i can get more support! i love you!

and remember

true love only happens once.

PLEASE VOTE FOR PART 2 NOW ON MY ACCOUNT!!!!!!

#f1 #carlos sainz #formula 1 #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #f1 x reader #isa hernaez #rebecca donaldson #formula one #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz junior #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #sergio perez #max verstappen #oscar piastri #lando norris #lance stroll #fernando alonso #esteban ocon #pierre gasly #alex albon #logan sargeant #zhou guanyu

[agaypanic]

Please consider: Rodrick and a bad influence!reader… convincing him to break into a junk yard at night to sit in a beat up car for a first date, hanging out under bridges and abandoned buildings and graffitiing the walls, getting him to do fun crazy things (but still being a good person obv) and living on the edge while they’re still young

A Bad Influence (Rodrick Heffley X GN!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Rodrick wasn’t opposed to trouble, but your idea for a first date isn’t exactly what he had in mind. But who knew that being around a bad influence would feel so good?

A/N: warning for drug use

***

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Rodrick asked as he looked around the empty lot, barely illuminated by dying lampposts. “I mean, this seems like fun and all, but I think my parents would kick my ass if I got arrested for trespassing.”

“Relax, Rodrick.” You laughed, pulling back one of the chain link gates as much as you could, with it being chained and locked to the other. If you took your backpack off, the gap was big enough to squeeze through. “There’s no security here at all! No one’s gonna know we’re here.” Once you were on the other side, you pulled your bag through and slung it over your shoulder before looking at Rodrick. “Come on, babe, live a little.” You said with a sly smirk.

That was all the convincing Rodrick needed to slip through the gate, hot on your heels as you walked through the abandoned junkyard.

It was a bit difficult to find a car that wasn’t absolutely smashed or infested with some kind of creature. But eventually, Rodrick spotted a small car that was rusty, blue, and had a giant dent in one of the back doors, which you joked was much better than his van. 

Just to be safe, you laid blankets over the car seats before sitting down. Then you dumped the contents of your bag onto the space between you, different snacks and bottles of pop littering the old car. An altoid tin clattered onto the floor, and you were quick to pick it up, a mischievous grin on your face. Rodrick wondered what would be so special about mints until you popped the top open, revealing a lighter and a few rolled joints.

You picked one up and looked at Rodrick, silently asking if he wanted to partake. He figured smoking weed wouldn’t be the wildest thing he’s done tonight, so he nodded and waited for you to light it.

“See? Isn’t this fun?” You and Rodrick had your seats reclined, having to put some force into it because of the severe lack of use the car had gotten.

“Yeah,” Rodrick answered, looking up through the busted car’s skylight momentarily before turning his head to face you. “I mean, we’re probably getting a gazillion diseases right now. But other than that, I’m having a good time.”

“We’ll be fine.” You laugh, punching his shoulder before shoving some chips into your mouth. “As long as you have your tetanus shot.”

Rodrick shook his head with a fond smile on his lips. He was a bit unconventional, but sitting in a rusting, busted-up car definitely wasn’t his idea of a good first date. But watching you take another drag in the passenger’s seat, him feeling fuzzy and light next to you, made him realize that location didn’t matter. Even if there was a slight chance you’d be arrested for trespassing.

The boy stared at how your lips were wrapped around the joint, licking his dry lips as you blew the smoke out through the car’s open top. You glanced at him and smiled lightly from his attentive yet slightly dazed stare.

“Want some more?” You asked softly, gesturing to the contents in your hand. Rodrick nodded, but his eyes were still on you.

An idea popped into your clouded mind, and you took another drag. But instead of inhaling, you put your free hand on Rodrick’s cheek. He sighed at the contact, leaning into your touch. Getting an idea of what you were wanting to do, Rodrick leaned towards you and locked his lips with yours. You did your best to focus, too focused on how nice it felt for Rodrick to kiss you, and blew the smoke into his mouth.

He seemed disappointed to pull away from you so he could inhale and blow the smoke out. But after the exhale, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you again, and you could sense the slight hunger in him despite both of your lazy movements.

“We should do this more often,” Rodrick murmured against you.

“Making out, smoking weed, or doing slightly illegal but really fun activities?” You asked with a giggle, stamping out the joint and dropping it into a bag of trash so you could latch your arms around Rodrick’s neck.

“All of it.”

#agaypanic #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid x reader #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick

[cecilysass]

Shine On (16/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 16: Crazy Diamond

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 25, 2015 Two hours later

It turns out that Bunny Man Bridge is just a bridge. And okay, it’s a little creepy-looking—a one lane road going into a yellowed concrete tunnel under a train overpass—but not very eventful on a sunny, late winter afternoon. There aren’t signs of apparitions, dead bodies, or even Satanic graffiti. Which Jackson finds kind of disappointing after all Mulder’s talk.

Mulder drones on about the telltale hallmarks of paranormal activity, but since most of them would have involved interviewing human witnesses, they don’t seem very promising to investigate. There’s no one around but Jackson, Mulder, and Scully. And interested squirrels.

Still, Jackson is enjoying the outing. He and Mulder scramble up to the top of the bridge and look around the railroad tracks for any clues. Scully watches from the road below, leaning against the car, smirking to herself. After a few minutes Mulder begins to call for the Bunny Man like a lost dog— “here, Mr. Bunny Man, come on, boy”—which makes Scully cover her mouth with her hand and laugh.

Mulder looks down from the bridge at her with this goofy little smile, a whole lot like he’s an eighth grader pleased with himself. Jackson tries hard not to shine the man’s mind, as he’s thinking a surprising quantity of inappropriate thoughts for an old guy.

He gets the basic gist, though—the important highlights. They’re back together.

Jackson can’t help but feel happy for them. Mulder’s hope is contagious. It’s everywhere in the man’s mind right now, even in the dirty parts. It’s inescapable, Mulder’s hope. Like an annoying mylar balloon that keeps floating into your face. Even shining him a little makes Jackson’s own emotions begin to feel lighter, too.

“Is the investigation over?” Scully calls up to them. “I’m hungry.” She cocks her head strategically. “We could go pick up fresh bagels.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows. “I could eat.”

“I think we’re just about wrapped up here,” Mulder calls back. “It’s going to be kind of a drive for bagels though. We’re in the country, Scully.”

She shrugs and smiles. From her pocket her phone starts to buzz, and she rushes to pull it out, sliding into the car to take the call. As Jackson understands it, she’s finishing up odds and ends of her hospital job before she goes back to the FBI.

Mulder regards Jackson seriously. “I’ve got to tell you, Jackson—I’m not noticing any classic signs,” he says, gesturing around them. “No change in temperature, no strange odor.” He points to the birds chirping in the trees around them. “I still hear local wildlife going strong.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says with a sigh. “Maybe the Bunny Man really does only show up on Halloween.”

Mulder’s eyes light up. “Well, possibly we could come back—” He stops himself, but it’s too late. Jackson knows exactly what he was going to say, and he knows exactly why he stopped.

They don’t know where Jackson will be at Halloween. That’s eight months away. He could very well be locked in a juvenile justice facility. That reality hasn’t gone away, however much Mulder and Jackson want to forget and play ghost hunter. Everyone keeps acting like Jackson is just going to stay here and play pretend son, but that’s just not the case.

Jackson has to turn away from Mulder now. Sometimes other people’s hope is painful.

They have to be careful on the way down; the embankment down the side of the bridge is steep. Jackson’s feet, skidding out of control, stumble the last few steps down, and Mulder grabs his arm to steady him.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackson mumbles.

Mulder’s thoughts are a burgeoning swell of concern, and Jackson knows he’s probably been doing a little shining. “Listen, Jackson—”

“You’ve actually seen ghosts before, right?” Jackson interrupts. He looks around at the wooded area around the bridge, then back at Mulder. “Not just read about them?”

Mulder considers him a moment. “I have, yes.”

“Who were the ghosts?” Jackson asks.

“The ghosts themselves? You mean in life?”

“Yeah. Did you know them?”

Mulder thinks about his answer. “One time it was a couple,” he says. “A couple who died together on Christmas.”

Jackson thinks about that for a moment, a couple who died together and spent eternity together, too. It seems like that might be good. Not entirely unhappy. He gets little visual flashes from Mulder’s memories, but he pushes them out—he’d rather make up his own little story about these ghosts.

“You never met the ghost of anyone you knew when they were alive?” Jackson asks. He hesitates. “Like … your own parents, maybe?”

Mulder’s head turns sharply to him. His gray-green eyes are sorrowful, then shift infinitesimally into sympathy and pity.

“Jackson,” he says, his words subdued, “you won’t get your parents back by searching for ghosts.”

A bird trills nearby, and Jackson’s gaze follows the sound. “Yeah,” he says.

His eyes again fill with tears. This is one of those things he knows he should know better about. Something he can see is a delusion—an idea gullible kids hold on to— but he wants to believe anyway. He wants to think that one day he might see his mom and dad again. How stupid, to imagine friendly ghosts who might pat him reassuringly on the shoulder and tell him it’s okay.

They both stand facing the steep bank of trees, saying nothing.

A very clear sentence runs through Mulder’s mind. If he were staying with us, I would make sure he got a new therapist.

Jackson can’t help but smile, wiping his tears. “If I were staying with you, I’d probably really need one.”

“Yeah.” Mulder snorts a laugh. “You probably would.”

***

Back in the car, Scully is sitting in the driver’s seat, unmoving, waiting for them. The radio is on, turned down very low, a murmur of voices.

“No ghosts,” Jackson informs her as he slides in the back. “Mulder says we can try Gadsby Tavern in Alexandria next time.”

“You all done with your call?” Mulder asks her, giving her a curious look. “Was it the hospital?”

“It wasn’t.” Scully says in a strange voice. “It was Skinner. He had news.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of news?”

“There’s been new evidence in the Van De Kamps’ case. Apparently a … witness remembers seeing a man wanted in Colorado in the neighborhood that morning, leaving the scene.”

“What?” Jackson inhales.

“The charges against Jackson have been dropped. He’s considered a missing child now. The Rawlins police are having a press conference, so it will be hitting the media today at some point.”

“A witness emerges from nowhere?” Mulder asks.

“Yes,” Scully says, and Jackson watches her eyes latch on to his. “And Skinner says the name of this witness has been strangely hard to come by, even for the Bureau.”

“This is good news though,” Jackson insists. “Right? It means I’m free. It’s good.”

He looks from Scully to Mulder. They both turn to him in the backseat, their faces blooming in simultaneous smiles. They’re both holding something back, but they’re not insincere.

“It is, Jackson,” Scully agrees. “You’re right. It means you have a lot more options.” He senses her worry simmering underneath. Something wrong here. Another shoe about to drop.

“Maybe I can call people now,” Jackson says, his eyes darting hesitantly between them. “My friend Louis. Maybe my uncle Wyatt.”

“Probably very soon,” Mulder says, nodding. “I’d like to wait until we know … just a little more.”

“You’re both worried,” Jackson observes softly. “You think something is weird.”

There’s a silence in the car as Scully starts the engine.

“We’re cautious,” Mulder says. “Happy, but cautious.”

***

When they get home from their bagel pick up—and Mulder was right, it was kind of a drive to get to the place with good bagels—Jackson is washing his hands in the kitchen when he feels Rose’s tiny nudge into his mind.

Apparently she’s back at home now, wherever that is. She tells him to pass on some messages. He’s happy to hear from her. He badly wants to tell her his good news, but he thinks about what Mulder and Scully said, and he decides to wait a little.

Jackson can hear Mulder talking on the phone outside. Actually, he is apparently taking a break from talking to whoever is on the line to discuss something back and forth very animatedly with Scully. Neither one of them really holds back their opinion, he’s noticed.

He’s started to put together a few more pieces about them. For one, he’s been curious about how Mulder pays his bills. Jackson’s parents always were very careful about money—clipping coupons, thinking through monthly budgets—but Mulder thinks about money much less than most adults.

Jackson knows that Scully is a doctor, and Jackson understands that doctors make high salaries, which explains her nice car and nice clothes. But Mulder hasn’t seemed to have a regular job for years, and Jackson doesn’t think FBI agents make enough to retire decades early.

When they came home with their dozen bagels, Mulder and Scully went to call this lawyer right away, both of them very determined. From what Jackson can gather, it seems to be a lawyer associated with Mulder’s family. So, Jackson infers, Mulder comes from some kind of family money. He wonders why Mulder doesn’t use it to buy a fancier house or car.

As he selects another bagel, he wonders about Mulder’s family. Who were they? How did they get rich? He wonders about Scully’s family, too. What’s her mother like, the one who is still alive? He could probably ask them all of these questions now that he isn’t a wanted man. Maybe he could even meet the mysterious grandmother now.

Outside Mulder and Scully still seem deeply invested in talking to the lawyer, so Jackson plops down on the couch with his cinnamon raisin bagel.

Chewing silently, he remembers what Scully said about the media getting the story soon. He searches around for the remote and turns on Mulder’s TV, pressing buttons to find a news channel.

When he does, he can tell instantly: the story is public.

A blonde reporter clad in a bright blue coat stands on a snow-covered street in downtown Rawlins, with the words “New Development in Wyoming Murder Case: Police Apologize to Runaway Teen” sprawled underneath her. Jackson is so shocked to see the familiar storefronts of his hometown on the national news he can barely focus on the words.

“...police believe that the victims’ son fled out of fear, and they hope Jackson Van De Kamp will be found safely.”

One of the police officers who’d been at Jackson’s school that horrible day—Davis was his name, Jackson remembers—stands in front of a microphone, looking gray and stricken: “We admit when we make mistakes, and this was a mistake. Mr. Van De Kamp is innocent of all wrongdoing. In all likelihood, he’s a scared and grieving kid. If you can hear this, Jackson, buddy, we want you to come home.”

Jackson stares at the screen open-mouthed, clutching his half-eaten bagel tightly. The rest of the report seems to slide right past him.

“Was that it?” Scully says sharply from behind him. The news has moved on to something else. “Was that the story about you?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, his voice sounding like a small boy’s.

Scully walks around and sits down next to him on the couch. She picks up the remote and switches the TV off.

She peers at his face. “Are you okay, Jackson?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “The police … uh, begged me … to come home. To Wyoming.”

Scully’s eyes are so wide, so icy blue—exactly like Rose’s. They run all over him, as if studiously taking in every detail.

“Do you want to go back?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, blinking.

She picks up his plate off of the coffee table, offering it to him. He sets his bagel down on it dazedly. She replaces the plate on the table.

“You have some decisions to make, Jackson,” she says, her voice gentle. “Not all of them right away. But you do have some decisions to make.”

Mulder appears behind her, his hand reaching for her shoulder. He’s watching Jackson closely, too.

“We spoke to the lawyer about the … custody possibilities,” Scully says. Jackson recognizes suddenly that she’s very nervous. He can feel fear starting to roll off of her in steady waves. “It’s most likely a relative has official custody of you now. Probably your uncle Wyatt?”

Jackson nods slowly. He can’t think of who else would.

“We can talk to your uncle about other possibilities,” Scully says carefully. “Living with us. Short term … or longer term. There are a range of options in the kind of relationship you could have with us. You could just do visits. We could have some kind of shared custody. There’s, uh, more permanent arrangements. Like legal guardianship. Adoption.” She swallows. Her fear is pulsing around Jackson now like a heartbeat. “I don’t know how your uncle will feel about any of this, but we thought we’d check with you before pursuing anything else. We want you to be the one … in the driver’s seat.”

Jackson reaches out his hand to rest on her arm. He doesn’t want her to be so terrified. It’s stupid. Unnecessary. Of course he wants to live with them. She stills at his touch, her eyes widening.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want to see Uncle Wyatt—like, for visits. He’s family. But I’d like to stay here. If that’s possible, I mean.”

Scully seems unable to suppress her initial reaction: she bursts into a pink-cheeked smile; she exchanges a quick, amazed look with Mulder. Her hand covers Jackson’s, and he can feel her intentionally calming herself down. “We’re happy you feel like that, of course. But that was … a fast decision. Are you sure? You can think about it. All the time you need.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” He tries to make his own tone sound casual, breezy. “Uncle Wyatt has too many dogs and goes to a crazy church,” he says with a shrug. “And I don’t think he’ll argue with you too much if you say you want me to live here. I broke his big screen TV once, and he thinks I’m annoying.”

Jackson doesn’t say everything he’s thinking. That he would actually really like to see what it would be like to be part of their family. That he’d like to know what love felt like, everyday, with them. That he thinks it would be easy, somehow—much easier than he might have expected. That he thinks he understands now that this new relationship with them has nothing to do with replacing his parents.

Mulder’s smile is so wide that Jackson suspects he eavesdropped. “We’d love to have you, Jackson,” he says.

“We’ll talk to your uncle,” adds Scully. “We can be more specific about your options after that.”

“Rose said she could teach you more about how to block me, you know,” Jackson tells them tactfully. “So you wouldn’t have to worry as much about… not having privacy. You know.”

Scully flushes, and Mulder hides a smile. “That might be nice,” Scully says.

“She also said there was a really good STEM high school in Alexandria,” Jackson suggests with more feigned disinterest.

“Rose is full of advice,” Mulder observes wryly.

“Yep,” Jackson agrees. “I got a message from her, by the way.” He eyes the bagel on his plate again. “When you all first went in to call the lawyer.”

“Really?” Mulder says. “A … psychic message?”

“That sounds kind of overdramatic,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes and picking his bagel back up. “But yeah. She said she was home.”

“Good,” Scully says. “That’s good.” She throws Mulder a glance.

“She also said to tell you something, Scully.”

“She … did?”

“She said to tell you that they listened to her.” He looks at Scully to see if that’s meaningful, but her face looks blank. “Rose said that … she told them what she wanted, and they listened.”

He shrugs, deciding it doesn’t matter that much, and he takes a big bite of the bagel. Scully has a point about getting them fresh, he decides. They taste so much better this way. You could only get bagels in a bag at the grocery store in Rawlins.

A plummeting feeling from the pit of Scully’s stomach makes him look up.

“What?” Mulder asks her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Scully’s face has lost color. “No. I just …”

“Who listened to her?” Mulder insists. “What does that message mean?”

“I asked her … if the Walled Garden leaders listened to her,” Scully says in a low voice. “If they respected her.”

Jackson swallows part of his bagel so he’s able to talk. Through a mouthful: “You think she asked the Walled Garden for something she wanted?”

Mulder stares at Jackson, and then turns back to Scully, his eyes widening. “You think she asked them for something she wanted,” he repeats in a low voice, realizing. “Oh wow.”

“This morning, she said she was going home to take care of something,” Scully whispers, her eyes on him.

Jackson swallows his last mouthful. “What?”

“So she goes home,” Mulder says in disbelief to Scully. “And within a few hours…”

“Is it possible, Mulder?”

Jackson finally gets it. “You think she asked the Walled Garden to make sure the charges were dropped against me. Don’t you?”

Scully and Mulder are still looking hard at one another. “It happened so fast,” Mulder says. “All in less than six hours. If it was really the machinations of the Walled Garden…”

“They have an alarming amount of power,” says Scully. “Over multiple entities of government. An amount of power comparable to…”

“The Syndicate.” Mulder sits next to them on the couch, puts his head in his hands. “Can this be true? I don’t know what to make of an organization like this. They’re not even… strictly human. But they may be involved in… it’s overwhelming.”

They don’t say anything for a moment, looking dazed. Jackson watches them both in profile, unsure what to say.

“What do we do, Scully?” Mulder says.

She looks away, towards the window. There are entire worlds—entire universes—in Scully’s eyes. Jackson feels weirdly like his shine is lost in something enormous.

“I guess it’s fortunate there’s an investigative unit of the FBI qualified to keep an eye on them,” Scully says slowly and resolutely at last.

She turns and picks up Mulder’s hand. He lifts his head out of his hands and meets her stare.

“And keep an eye on Rose, too?” Jackson says incredulously.

“Yeah,” agrees Mulder, a strange finality. “And keep an eye on Rose.”

A fierce undertow of worry from Scully. But is Rose on the right side? How could we convince her? What if Rose were involved with something fundamentally wrong? What about any other members of the Walled Garden Mulder might feel connected to?

They’re frighteningly powerful anxieties, and Jackson doesn’t even understand some of them. They’re shot through with the stinging, luminous heat of her love. But weirdly he doesn’t feel himself getting drawn into these anxieties right now, even though he’s prone to worrying himself.

It’s just the more overwhelming emotion coming at him right now is what’s coming from Mulder. This ridiculous hopefulness. Bigger and more buoyant than ever. It fills up, expands and crowds out all competing feelings.

Jackson isn’t sure if Mulder is essentially being like a gullible kid—if he wants to believe things that aren’t true just to comfort himself. If that’s true, he is much, much better at it than Jackson. Because every cell in his body seems to be singing the same song: somehow, this will be okay. Somehow, what's wrong is going to get better. Jackson decides Mulder feeling like this is a good thing, even if it's not an entirely logical or sane thing.

As Mulder draws Scully into his side, and suggests they watch his favorite movie—some old movie about space that Scully protests vehemently—Jackson notices the influence of Mulder’s hope beginning to work on her, too. She’s arguing back, but she’s starting to relax, too. She’s got this little smile on her lips. Her anxieties are receding, falling into the background.

Jackson pulls his knees up at his end of the couch and stops listening to their good-natured argument. He wonders how it would be received if he asked if his friend Louis could come visit some time. He has a brilliant idea about splashing red paint around the inside of the Bunny Man Bridge and freaking the shit out of Louis. It would be hilarious. Also, he’d just like to see Louis. He misses him.

Mulder and Scully want Jackson to be the tie-breaker in deciding the movie. They both look over and ask him, with curious faces, what he wants to watch.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Finding Nemo,” he suggests at once. “Or The Incredibles.”

“Aren’t those kid movies?” Mulder asks suspiciously.

“Not ... entirely,” Jackson says.

“What are they about, then?”

Jackson considers his answer a minute and lands upon the right words. “They’re about doing crazy shit for your family.”

He wins.

***

Y'all, thank you so much for reading. I’m truly grateful for all of your encouraging, supportive notes and tags. You have no idea what they mean.

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

[idv-sunsxin3]

Pavia, Diggers // Car Ride

Note // Same prompt as the one with Horropedia except is with the other 2 glasses sillies (separately) this time/ lh

Warning// a bit suggestive on Pavia's part??? Maybe.

____

(When he's driving)

Guys, we should make a debate in where Pavia either drives on a Lamborghini or a Ferrari/j

There are times he drives normally for the sake of keeping a low profile at times... and there are time when he is a fast driver, not more said.

Would most likely get a speeding ticket... well, if the officers ever managed to catch him. 😭

Even if he doesn't put seatbelt on himself, he would be the type of lover who would nag you to put them on-

(not like you're complaining as you grip on something as if your life depends on you;;;/ih)

He likes to linger his hand on your thigh and give it a squeeze whenever he drives- crazy.

He would do the same when so much traffic happens, to at least subside his frustration on the road. Italian cursing at how long it's taking;;; definitely the grumpy driver type.

Sometimes, he likes to put bags underneath your legs during the ride, saying that "it's safe if it doesn't shake around"-

But no!!! In reality, he does that just so he can grab one of your legs and spread it open before reaching out, whatever he needs to take out - this man.... 😭

The good side of it is that Pavia's 5 wolves are often tagged along as they sit on the back seat--- Pavia for some reason helps them open the windows sometimes so they can stick their head and stick out their tongues while the car moves- its a very funny sight when it's 5 dogs in both windows of the car;;;;😭🤣

The wolves are at least trained enough to be careful- and they would know when to get their heads back in whenever Pavia warns them that he'll roll up the windows again with the power window switch.

"Hold on tight, baby~ this will be a pretty bumpy ride."😈

If you really appreciate your life a lot, you might as well ask if you both can just take a taxi./lh

Yet i feel like knowing him, he won't take no as an answer;;; <//3

____

(When he's a passenger)

Mmm if he ever is in a car ride with you along with other party members Vertin assigned, he probably wouldn't like the fact how close he is to touch other people during the entire ride---- even if he doesn't show it, I guess the menacing death smirk might give it away(it does).

As long as it's just you beside him, he won't be too salty about it--

He won't give you a break from how clingy he is tho- he wouldn't keep his hands to himself if he's not the one taking the wheel;;;;

Pulling you close, sneaking a hand on your knee, make you cuddle against him, have his chest touch your back as he whispers flirty Comments on your ear- technically trying to make others get third wheeled and calling them single in many different ways;;; 😭

Like Horropedia, he's most likely the "are we there yet" passenger....---- except in a more grumpy impatient vibe as if he doesn't want to stay in this vehicule any longer--- he's not burning it down just because you're here/ih

"Come on, little girl...- How long do we have to stay in this car?"

The Italian grumbles, trying to get his sly hands busy by playing with your hair a bit through his calloused fingers. His arm is resting heavily on your shoulder.

"Soon." That's what the young girl answers with a calm tone, already used to the intimidating energy the older one tends to bring.

Pavia ends up leaning his back into the cushion, sighing as you tiredly pat him by the shoulder. The small gesture of comfort is unknown if it is playful or sincere.

Suddenly, the other seems to have other plans. He catches you off guard by lifting you smoothly with his hands on your waist before placing you between his lap.

He whispers on your ear, a quiet voice with a hint of rasp and longing.

"Stay close to me for now, so I don't have to talk to these poor teammates here...-"

____

(When he's driving)

Diggers driving an old-fashioned volkswagen that has a lot of colorful graffiti paint all over it seems very in character, in my opinion. He even has this colorful van decorated with a lot of stuff in his insight 2-- Which was what most hippies drove before.

Not only is it affordable and durable, but it's also spacious in the back that he can make it as a comfy place to rest.... which is also where you usually nap together or have these quiet cuddling sessions.🥺��️

He usually keeps the vehicule in a peaceful area where it's not near the city, like a grassfield or in the middle of a forest.

I'm not sure if he'll be a full licensed driver, but I feel like he would drive at a less extreme speed for the sake of  stress--- prefers to drive and see how empty the road is and how peaceful the landscape would be- rural areas specifically.

And when he finds the perfect spot to settle, you would stay there for the night or even a couple of days.

Diggers probably like acoustic music or something that gives a "groovy" impression. Yet, he is very flexible enough to let you go crazy with the radio box- pick a song, or music, whatever hat interests you--- whether he knows the tune or not, he might try to sing along and enjoy the different kinds of vibes with you djdbdbdb-

-

You and Diggers plan to move the van out to another rural field within london- most likely a village your boyfriend seems to have known.

The moment you finished packing what you need at the back of the van, Diggers calls you back from the driver seats window.

"Darling! You're done?" The voice of your boyfriend resembles one of an ecstatic puppy.

"Yeah!"

"Come inside!"

As you were about to hop into the passenger seat- you got surprised by a.... big pile of flowers sitting on your seat???

Oop- some of them fell off the moment you opened the door.

"I- what??? What is this???" You laugh softly, already imagining the jolly grin Diggers might be wearing from the other side of the mountain of flowers.

The pile looks like they're 100 roses.

"Oops--- forgot to give you these. Surprise!" He bubbly says as he leans on the steering wheel lazily.

"...." You pause, sighing out after recovering from the laughter, "Oh g-  thanks, baby-- but how can I even see your face like this??? Where do i sit???" 🤣

As if the option of the back seat was out of the window, Diggers responded:

"How about my lap?"

You both now started laughing again like the dorks you are,,,/lh

____

(When he's a passenger)

He's most likely the type to play some tunes on his guitar, entertaining and serenading those who surround him as he sits in the vehicle

Is actually very nice that he gets to go somewhere without worrying about the gasoline cost-- /ih

He'll be fine sitting anywhere- but he'll be more pleased if he gets to sit right next to you- where he believes he should be <33

He'll have an arm behind your neck while chilling, sometimes holding hands just to play with your fingers while talking to someone.

Maybe even spend the entire car ride trying to teach how to play the guitar- having you on his lap as he guides your hands on where to place the strings. 🤭🥰

He would be most likely a tolerable passenger, a pretty peaceful one. He'll  even would try and nap the entire ride if he can.

Though, whenever he spots a police car passing by through the window- I can imagine him immediately crouching so he doesn't get spotted, very self-conscious by the fact there are some officers looking after him,,, maybe;;; <//3

He trusts any driver as long as it's anyone that is not Pavia.... Convince me otherwise--- 😭

He would freak out and scream when the speed is too high- even cling on to you.

His grip is firm that you don't even know whether he is trying to hold on to you so he doesn't get thrown off or because he wants to cover you from any incoming crashes---/ih

You'll have to comfort him a bit after that;;

.

.

.

I'll never forget about the drive thru headcanons <333

//Them ordering take out at a McDonald's drive thru with s/o. If you don't eat McDonald's, just imagine it/ih

___

//Pavia//

Arches eyebrow... and wearing this look of "pookie, out of other restaurants, you decide one of the most low-quality ones???"/ih

Also not him having beef by the fact the ice cream in McDonald's sucks- the machine is even broken in almost every restaurant--- sobs;;;

At the end, he brought you there anyways, because you made him/ih

The reason why he would buy you a happy meal is probably because you're baby--- you don't even know if it's sweet or insulting./ih 😭🫠

Whenever you want to order but the cashier cant hear you when he's the one who's in the driver seat- I can imagine you guys with this meme./ih

Pavia is creepily respectful enough to keep this funny straight look while technically facing your butt, it's crazy;;; 2x

Next time, Pavia will drag you to somewhere better now that you finished dragging him to such "monstrosity of creepy clowns, grimace shakes, and broken ice cream machines"/j. More better than Olive Garden even---;;;

___

//Diggers//

"Ehhhh-- what would you like to order, sweetie?" :)

"Anything is alright."

"...."

"....."

*turns back to the window* "1 hamburger, 2 French fries- and a milkshake, please." :)

Most hippies don't seem to like materialism- but food is food, he wouldn't even dare to say no to if you want to order food at places like McDonalds dbbdbdnd;;; Like, most prices there were like less than $1 (plus tax) back in the 1960s...- 🤔🤯

(I feel like you would boss out of this by paying for him at times- like this is probably better than the McDonald's from 2020s/ih)

Man, happy meals were only first introduced in 1979- so they weren't a thing yet for a while in Diggers' timeline. If they ever get premiered, He would buy you one for you whether or not you like it- he just likes how there are chicken nuggets and juice boxes inside colorful boxes that seem to be meant for children-- yet for him, it doesn't matter. You will have it anyway, even if he's broke;;😭🥺

The first boxes when they were first introduced were circus wagons. The first toys were tops, stencils, wallets, puzzles, and erasers. Initially, meals included a hamburger or cheeseburger, fries, a soft drink, and cookies.... yum.

Pampering you with food is one of the wholesome things I can imagine - even eating it while being inside his van at some parking lot. Feeding each other with these silly dorky grins,,,,

#pavia reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 diggers #r1999 pavia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse 1999 diggers #diggers x reader #pavia x reader #reverse: 1999 x reader

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Epel Felmier - Rabbit Wear Vignette

"A little bummed, I guess?"

[Clock Town]

Deuce: Alright, so let's start heading back to Rabbit National Park.

Epel: I'm glad we all found some good souvenirs to bring home.

1. Yeah! 2. That was fun!

Silver: Maybe it's because of the festival, but it was packed with customers everywhere we went.

Deuce: I mean, it is our annual White Rabbit Festival after all. Usually, this town's pretty quiet.

Epel: A quiet town, huh…

Silver: What's the matter, Epel?

Epel: Nah, I was just thinking that the atmosphere here is way different than I thought it'd be.

Deuce: It's different than you thought? Just what kind of place did you think Clock Town was?

Epel: I was expecting a town covered in graffiti, with broken windows everywhere.

Deuce: THAT'S NOWHERE NEAR CLOSE!?

Epel: …Remember how I told you back at the school cafeteria that I have relatives that live close to Clock Town?

Epel: I heard from those relatives that Clock Town was riddled with delinquents.

Epel: That's why I thought that there'd be modded blastcycles racing around the town, or fights between rival gangs, or something.

Deuce: Ah… So that's what you mean.

Deuce: I mean, it's not like we have zero bad actors, but it's not like they're just fighting in the streets all the time.

Silver: I see. That is good.

Epel: I'm… a little bummed, I guess?

Deuce: What, why…?

Epel: I thought if some punk came at us, I'd show 'em what for.

Silver: So you were looking to protect us. You have a good sense of justice.

Ortho: I don't believe I sense any inkling of wanting to protect us in Epel Felmier-san's statement there.

Epel: …Hm? L-Look at that!!

Grim: Funyaa!? What is it? Is it a bad guy!?

Epel: Deuce-kun, there's a blastcycle parked over there! And it's modded out like crazy!

Grim: Oh, is that all. I thought there was gonna be a fight or somethin'.

Deuce: Oh, you're right. Let's go see if we can take a closer look!

Epel: Yeah!

Deuce: It's got a different cowl than the standard makes. It's a lightweight cowl made for racing.

Epel: They have those wide tires to help with friction! And they're semi-slick with shallower grooves!

Epel: The brake and suspension has been swapped out, too! It's been completely race tuned!

Silver: …I have no idea what he's saying.

Grim: …Me neither.

Epel: This is awesome! I can't believe a blastcycle this cool is just sitting here in town like this!

Deuce: I told you that that there's a ton of blastcycle parts shops in Clock Town, right?

Deuce: That's why it's not strange to come across a lot of tuned blastcycles like this.

Epel: So I was right that I'd get to see modded blastcycles here, then. I'm so happy I got to see one in person.

Epel: One day, I'm going to buy my own blastcycle and totally trick it out.

Ortho: Are you going to customize it for racing like this one?

Epel: I mean, it's crucial to try to push the limits of the max possible speed, or increase handling, yeah.

Epel: But before all that, I want to make it look cool!

Epel: I'd change the front cowl into a super flashy and huge rocket cowl, and put on a seat with a real high back…

Ortho: Eh? If you increase your drag, that'll slow you down.

Epel: I'd swap out the handlebars for these super long and bent down ape hangers…

Ortho: That'll lower your maneuverability.

Epel: And I'd paint dragons and tigers on it and really make it stand out!

Ortho: This isn't a practical modification at all… Is this what they call "romanticism"?

Ortho: I can comprehend wanting to focus on the exterior, but I can't understand why you would sacrifice performance for that.

Epel: Hmm… So, I guess it's impossible then.

Deuce: Like hell it is. I think that'd be super cool.

Epel: …Right!?

Deuce: It's be super neat to draw flames on the tank, or paste decals on it, too!

Epel: Yeah, yeah! I knew you'd get me, Deuce-kun!

Grim: …They're really getting fired up about it, huh.

[Clock Town]

Ortho: Oh. There's a blastcycle over there, too.

Epel: You're right! Man, I'm so jealous, there's so many cool blastcycles all over Clock Town.

Epel: Back home in Harveston, I'd never have even laid eyes on a modded blastcycle.

Deuce: Really?

Epel: Yeah. I mean, there's not as much younger folk there, in the first place…

Epel: So there's not many people riding blastcycles anyway, let alone modded ones.

Epel: Back in middle school, there were some tough-lookin' guys, but it's not like they'd ever cause any huge problems, or anything…

Epel: When it comes to blastcycles and delinquent culture, I studied a ton of TV shows, comics, and looked stuff up on the internet.

Epel: I was so surprised that such a world existed… And I was so enamored by how cool it looked.

Deuce: I see. I had a similar sort of phase, so I think I get what you're saying.

Epel: …I have another dream besides modding my own blastcycle.

Silver: What kind of dream is it?

Epel: I WANT TO GO ROARING DOWN THE STREETS ON MY BLASTCYCLE ALONGSIDE MY FRIENDS, ALL IN MATCHING LEATHER JACKETS OR WINDBREAKERS!

Epel: I totally think that it'd be much more fun to ride with friends, rather than just by myself.

Deuce: While flying your crew's colors?

Epel: Yeah, yeah! I bet it'd be so neat to go riding down a winding road at dawn with everyone, too!

Grim/Ortho: …

Silver: ?

1. Cool!

Epel: Right!? You should ride with me one day, too, [Yuu]-san! Epel: If you don't have a blastcycle, then you can ride behind me!

2. I don't know if I get it…

Epel: Eehh!? Really? I thought that'd be super cool, too.

Deuce: That sounds real fun! You gotta invite me when that happens!

Epel: Of course! It'd be a blast riding with everyone!

―After the conflict with the Black Bunnies

[Clock Town – Clock Park]

Everybody: …

Deuce: I'm ain't gonna forgive a single one of those Black Bunnies…

Silver: There is no way we can lose this Rabbit Run Race.

Ortho: Yeah. We're definitely going to win this!

Deuce: Yeah… Everyone, sorry for dragging you into this mess.

Epel: What are you saying, Deuce-kun!? I'm super looking forward to this!

Deuce: You are? Why?

Epel: We're all wearing the same kind of costume and we're going to run together…

Epel: This is the exact kind of situation I've been dreaming about!

Epel: I mean, it's not a blastcycle race, and sure, these outfits don't really scream "cool."

Epel: But these punks are the worst delinquents in this town, right? I'm getting really excited.

Deuce: So, rather than nervous, you're excited? You're making me feel a little better, Epel.

Epel: It would have been perfect if we could run carrying the Night Raven College colors.

Deuce: It's great you're up for it, but… Don't freak out and run from the Black Bunnies at the last second.

Epel: Ahahah. Even if the scariest of all delinquents were to show up, I'd never do something that uncool.

Deuce: I DON'T THINK A DELINQUENT THAT SCARY'LL SHOW UP!

Epel: Really? But even if one was participating in the race, I think we could beat them, don't you?

Deuce: …...Heh, yeah, you're right.

Epel: I DON'T CARE WHO WE'RE UP AGAINST, WE WON'T LOSE! 'KAY, WE'RE GONNA RUN WITH ALL OUR MIGHT!!!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #epel felmier #deuce spade #ortho shroud #twst epel #twst deuce #twst ortho #twst silver #twst grim #twst translation #twst white rabbit festival