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oshiawaseni · 9 months

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Trails of Love Hori's been paving down in the build up for the series' ending

Part II: Decoding the love story being told through other characters

Part One | II. KamiJirou | Part Three ->

.•° ✿ 5. "I̥̰̟͈̣̮͑̑͐̓̌z̴͉̙̲̋͗͌u̶̫̝̒̊̐Ocha" ೋღ

Oh look, time to defeat the raid boss of BNHA: IzuOcha. (I wrote this meta in March, and after reading it now, I didn't feel I needed to change anything, but I added a small bonus section at the end. Hope you enjoy!)

I have a lot of things to say about why Ochaco was never meant to be the one... but I'll try to stay concise and on topic with regards to this meta. Ochaco appears set up as Izuku's love interest from the get-go, but is that really what Hori wanted to do? I'll be taking a dive into their themes and in part three of this meta, I'll be explaining why the answer to that question has been a resounding: NO!

When I compared the feedback Ochaco got from Aoyama, Toga and Mina about her having a crush on Izuku for wanting to be like him, to Izuku, who didn’t get any feedback for all the times he did the exact same thing and copied Kacchan, it felt very unfair.

See what I mean? It is completely unfair. And this was such a hard topic for me to navigate and answer for the anon at that time. But then I did some thinking.

Compress, Gentle/La Brava, Kamijirou and finally Kirimina (which came as a pleasant surprise, and for me, cemented Hori's intentions with all of this)... all of these characters have been written to highlight various things about BkDk's relationship.

Then, there is Ochaco's admiration of Izuku and she always gets told it's a crush, and it's so weird of a plot to begin with. This very one-sided "crush" also felt out of place with the rest of the themes going on. I eventually realised maybe we had been looking too closely at the admiration issue all along. By attempting to explain the meaning of the tree and why it's different from this other tree, we didn't see the forest it's connected to and that there was actually something bigger going on that Hori had been crafting.

Scale it back and you’ll see: It’s not that Izuku didn’t get his own feedback about his feelings for Kacchan in the various ways he shows he wanted to be like him, but Ochaco’s conversations with Aoyama and Mina and Toga were his feedback!! It was one of the biggest AHHHHHHHHHHH SO THAT'S WHY pin drop moments I've ever had.

No one was calling him out, because they didn't need to! Calling out Ochaco for that behaviour was all Izuku's same behaviour needed!

Chapter 15 is the first time Izuku displays this behaviour of wanting to be like Kacchan. In Chapter 48 Izuku trains his movement after thinking of "Kacchan and the others". His movement mimicking Katsuki's is first noticed by Iida in Chapter 52.

We spent so much time worrying what the difference is between Izuku and Ochaco’s admiration, but we tackled the problem all wrong! In fact, we didn’t need to tackle it at all.

Because not only did Ochaco’s crush sideplot serve as a red herring to veil the real love story going on from the average reader, it was also used as another tool to highlight it.

In chapter 58, Izuku showed off his new movement style and everybody, even Katsuki, noticed it was copying the way Katsuki moves. The fact we get another Ochaco shot of her watching Izuku mimic Katsuki really does add credence to the theory that she noticed Izuku's feelings because he's also copying the person he loves. And if their logic was true for her, then why couldn't it be true for Izuku too? Izuku's mimicry being such a non-issue for 1-A was surely done on purpose for us to see this hypocrisy one day: That her mimicry gets called out as love by everyone, but everyone sleeps on Izuku's own mimicry simply because it's between two boys.

Our take away was never meant to be “what’s the difference between their admiration/love”, but simply that Izuku was both wanting to become like and inadvertently becomes like Kacchan because he loves him so much and a way to keep Kacchan close to him was incorporating both his attitude and movement style into his own.

Hori was linking the two concepts of mimicry and romance together with commentary from Mina/Aoyama/Toga while having Izuku do this EXACT THING they were talking about, with Katsuki, right in front of our damn salad!

Because what other characters noted about Ochaco's behaviour... Izuku was also expressing towards Kacchan. (Hori even brought it up again in DvK2 just to remind *everyone* that Izuku is very conscious of doing the exact same thing as Ochaco)

Even if Ochaco later reveals their logic to not be true FOR HER (which I wholeheartedly believe in. BkDk+TogaChaco end game LETS GO), we know for sure this logic has absolutely been true for Izuku. And the feedback Ochaco got also fits Hori’s framework of;

Bkdk -> are the actions

Other characters -> are the words for their feelings and actions.

Ochaco never was a raid boss to begin with... she only had the appearance of one. All to get BkDK through to the finish line.

Ochaco talking about "putting the All Might doll away" here used the same verb as "shutting her feelings away" and her scene instantly jumps to Izuku looking at his black whip - a quirk he has also "put away" behind a locked door that represents OFA. Black whip is a quirk which emerged from the feelings he has for Katsuki, that Izuku has also had to "put away" because what happened to him was so traumatic. I think Hori wanted us to see their two stories of "locking something away" were actually the same in essence, and it wasn't just black whip itself that Izuku had to lock away, but also his feelings for Katsuki... because we lost Izuku's POV towards Katsuki after the "I'm too blessed." scene. Most likely to hide the romantic love Izuku feels towards him from the reader.

I realised the same logic of the other couples also applied to Ochaco too a few months ago, while I was putting together this meta about all the ways Hori has indirectly shown readers what Izuku’s feelings for Kacchan are. Hori couldn’t say it outright because of his demographic and the current expectations society has that BL should stay in it's own category and far removed from shounen.

So Hori gave bkdk their moments without a whole lot of context and developed the idea of them simultaneously in another language, by getting other various characters to do the talking. And he used these characters to indirectly spell out bkdk’s love story in conjunction with bkdk’s own behaviour, all for the sake of his big bkdk reveal in the series' finale.

And to think he’s been doing this almost since the beginning blows my mind. (Chapter 15! Chapter 15 was the start of WWKD: What Would Kacchan Do) The man is a genius. A lot of this feels like he had needed to release his feelings about bkdk, so he left these trails of code throughout the manga... and we’ve finally cracked the damn thing.

We did it. We realised Hori’s 2nd language and roundabout method of telling one of the greatest love stories in shounen history. And I’m sure there’s even more examples of it to discover, that all our fandom's talented, keen-eyed bkdks find every day.

If Horikoshi Kohei-Sensei wrote this story because he wanted to cement his mark in jump history, he has deservedly done just that!

Part B - The real ship of dreams

(It felt too good to be true, yet I was quietly hoping...) .•° ✿ 5. TogaChako ೋღ

Circling back to the first part of this meta, "The Shape of an Eternal Bond" ... Do you remember when I talked about how BkDk couldn't imagine a world without each other, and the sense of an eternity they both exude together? Something that has always been, something that will always be. It seems more themes and feelings we get from bkdk's relationship have now been thrown into the Togachaco fight.

Ochaco gave Toga what is essentially a marriage proposal to a vampire, and then her wires made the shape of the infinity symbol. Toga expresses to her "I can't stand the thought of you not being in this world anymore." This is 1. so touching 2. bkdk as HELL, and I am certain that Katsuki and Izuku will confess their desires to be together forever before this manga ends.

I mean, this just goes to show you how us bkdks and Hori are literally on the same neural link, and we've been right about his methods of storytelling and how he's leaving trails of love inside these other couples to express concepts that are present in bkdk's own (soon to be) very romantic relationship.

It's a fun thought exercise to look at Togachaco's fight and predict what certain themes of theirs Hori will install into bkdk's talk/feelings they will express to each other... but there is a certain one, other than "forever", I feel very strongly about and will focus on here...

And that is Izuku's smile.

Something Katsuki once detested became the thing he most advocated for and longed to protect. His thumbs pointing to himself while talking about smiles... no wonder this had an air of Katsuki, himself, being the biggest reason Izuku smiles. "How could you leave me and choose this for us - a life of no smiling like that?"

At the start of the series, Katsuki couldn't stand Izuku's face or the smile he made at him. Whenever he saw it, he could only think of it as somebody laughing at him, looking down on him... but then DvK2 reframed Izuku's wide smiles at him and turned them into something pure, and genuine, and I think that's when Katsuki started to realise how much he was being loved the whole time.

And how could Katsuki possibly not reciprocate those earnest feelings from his special person who helped him find his heroic heart?

And this seems to be something Ochaco has noticed about Izuku? Ochaco, somebody who loves when people smile, noticed how big Izuku smiles when he talks about heroes... but especially the besotted faces he makes whenever he's with Katsuki... Of course she did.

On the Weekly Shounen Jump cover that featured bnha chapter 394, most of the characters on it are happy and smiling. Izuku isn't, however. That's because he's lost the ability to smile because Katsuki is still dead in the manga... Hori used this jump issue to build on this theme in the manga - that if you take Katsuki away, then away goes Izuku's smile, too.

Because Katsuki's very existence gives Izuku his happiness.

These two panels were supposed to be compared to each other - "Blood" and "Smiles" are two concepts mirroring each other in Togachaco's story. It's their different love languages. Toga felt like she couldn't ask Saito-kun for blood because he'd never accept her, Ochaco felt like she couldn't ask Izuku for his smile... because he'd also never accept her... she knew this was because Izuku already had somebody who gave him his sweetest smile... the same person who knew him more than anyone.

Chapter 395's title, 'shiawase no ue ni' was an interesting one that feels nuanced with Ochaco's feelings towards Izuku. It can be read as "Above (my) happiness..." I think this title is describing the concept of prioritising something else BEFORE one's own happiness. It's the perfect concept title for self-sacrifice, like Toga putting Ochaco's life above her own, but could ALSO be referencing Ochaco placing Izuku's happiness with Katsuki before her own feelings for him!!

Ochaco's story, at present, appears to be about putting aside unrequited love for a person she didn't quite understand, and instead placing her efforts into an attainable goal - rescuing somebody's heart from despair, and in doing so, becoming each other's important person. And then neither have to journey through life alone anymore. Ochaco knew this is something Izuku and Katsuki found in each other. In the image above, the girls are looking at Izuku and Saito, who won't turn their way, because they are both looking at a blonde boy next to them. Their "Sometimes Saturday." Katsuki.

The hidden face as Ochaco says she "came to like" Izuku Midoriya is quite suspicious. It belies what she's saying and she seems to either be hiding something negative or she’s not being truly forthcoming about her situation and feelings for Izuku. There are also themes of envy that finally showed up in Togachaco's dialogue which may be foundation Hori has laid down for the reveal of Ochaco's feelings later, as well. Envy about the attention Izuku received from others as a hero. Envy towards Izuku's innate passion for heroes, and the adoring faces he makes for Katsuki, perhaps.

So this smile that Katsuki has always misunderstood as something negative aimed towards him ended up turning into something... very lovely and important to him, as shown in Izuku's panel and how Ochaco described Toga's smile right afterwards.

And honestly... if we get little snapshots of the many smiles Izuku has made for Katsuki, while Katsuki is thinking about how adorable Izuku looks just for him when they're talking, I don't think I'll make it out of this bkdk reveal alive. Hori is going to obliterate us with whatever he's got cooking for them.

With all the major bkdk-alike couples now finished, the next post of this meta series will be: Part III, and the conclusion of this meta series ->

Back to Part One

#bakudeku #bnha meta #bkdk canon #hori trails #must read meta #kana writes #togachaco #bkdk #I'm sorry I took so long to post this part #you see... there was an order i was trying to do things in...#i wanted to link to topics I was writing on twitter but then stuff happened there which messed with my plans for writing these metas out #on top of that #the tumblr editor would randomly wipe out entire asks so I became really demotivated #but this is one of the last metas I wanted to write for bkdk so I will finish writing at least this series to completion #sorry the togachaco section is small I didn't want to make the post even longer but I felt like I should talk about them #as this was the intended final post of part II - I shoulda known togachaco would also become a big part of this meta series xD #but their themes and expressions of love are a happy and welcome surprise just like kiriminas :)

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smolbeandrabbles · 6 months

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Me: Why the heck of all people did I fall for this man!?

The art work on my wall:

Me: Oh, well, shit…

#OPLA #OPLA Bogard #I shouldn’t be surprised and yet somehow I was?!#it’s not the FIRST time either!#The fact that the exact moment I went from /he’s a weirdo/ to /love of my LIFE/ for Vulpes was ALSO because of a suit like this?#🎶 Shoulda known better! 🎶#clearly it’s just my aesthetic #if he starts smoking (established canon sooo! it could happen!) in S.2 you will not be hearing from me #I will be dead - RIP 💀#Linzi has a clear type and it is THIS apparently!#Guys I liked the first episode fine and Zoro was great but I PHYSICALLY snapped to attention when Bogard appeared #it was my /OH!/ moment - like I had with Hux in TLJ 🙈

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 14 days

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The Lookalike (Part 2)

☒ Summary:Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Having fallen into the clutches of your doppelganger's nemesis, you plan an escape, blissfully unaware that the Radio Demon himself now knows of your existence.

☒ Warnings: Alastor X Reader, Vox X Reader, hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Alastor sat in his usual breakfast spot on the balcony of the hotel, taking tea. Before him on the table sat an envelope, stamped and sealed with Voxtek logos. No-one sent letters in Hell these days, what with the smart phones that everyone seemed to love, but the weight of the item was such that it could only contain one thing. Photographs.

What was old Voxxy playing at? Alastor turned the envelope over in his hand, looking for anything out of the ordinary. In different circumstance, he might assume that this would be a threat or a blackmail attempt, but there was no-one in Hell he really cared about, and since his return after his seven year sabbatical he had committed no crimes worth speaking of- his deal made sure of that. Still, there didn’t appear to be a trap on the envelope itself, no microchips, not even a trace of Valentino’s irritatingly potent pheromone powder.

With a sigh, Alastor slit the envelope open with a single claw, and dumped the contents onto the table. What he saw took him a moment to register, and when he did he spat his tea.

What Vox had sent him were pictures of him. Alastor, naked and fucked out, electric blue cum dribbling down his inner thigh. Alastor on his back, eyes teary and pleading. Alastor with his knees hooked over the top edge of Vox’s screen.

Alastor crushed the first photograph between his claws, eyes becoming red dials, his grin extending to his ears. Vox had gotten him somehow. How? How had this happened? He’d been so careful, he’d never met in person, he’d brought his full mastery over technology to batter Vox back whenever they had interacted through screens. Yet somehow, here he was, splayed on Vox’s bedsheets. A hiss escaped him, angry static. Someone would pay for this violation.

“Hey, Al-” Angel Dust stuck his head out of the door but froze. “Oh fuck. See you’re having a moment here, I’ll go-”

“Nonsense.” With effort, Alastor forced himself down in size, his eyes returning to their usual form. “Just had a little surprise, that’s all.” With a little canned laughter, Alastor started to scoop up the photographs, in his haste scattering them more.

“So you finally fucked the TV, huh. Good for you, smiles.” Angel Dust squinted at the photograph that fluttered to land by his foot. “Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“I didn’t-” distress started to creep into Alastor’s voice, a high-pitched feedback tone as he snatched up more of the pictures, grinning with only his teeth. “I would never.”

Angel Dust gave him a doubtful look. “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with fuckin’, right? Hell I’m the last one ta judge-”

“I have no memory of this.” Alastor hissed, crushing another photo between his claws.

“Oh. Fuck.” Angel Dust gave Alastor a compassionate look. “Sorry, man, I shoulda listened. Lemme help you with those.”

“I am quite capable of gathering these-” said Alastor archly as Angel bent over to retrieve some of the pictures that had fallen under the table. To his annoyance, Angel held one photo up to the light, squinting at it. “Give me that.”

“Nah. Wait. Look, I’m a professional at this okay? Nothing I haven’t seen before. And this? This ain’t the tall dark and creepy I know.”

Your stay in Vox’s suite was enjoyable, but not something that could last. Mercifully the television demon worked long hours, which left you a good amount of time alone. It hadn’t taken much persuading for Vox to give you a phone, a shiny new model with his company’s logo emblazoned on the back. And once you had that, this place’s equivalent of the Internet was your oyster.

Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You’d even let him dress you, a fanciful blue outfit with a tailcoat and bowtie, and if that wasn’t a sign of co-operation, you weren’t sure what was.

what is hell pentagram city

As you suspected, you were in Hell. Though you had no clear memories of your death, you were fairly certain you had died. The memory of falling to the ground in darkness was there, along with the pain in the back of your head, a taste like metal in your mouth. And being here rather than the other place, assuming the other place even existed, was no real surprise to you. Heaven was for the meek and obedient, and you’d done things that were neither. Scanning the information online, and reading between the lines, you picked up the basics. Sinners were ruled by overlords, and Vox was one of these, in a coterie alongside Valentino, the man who had pulled you in and a third overlord you hadn’t met. Overlords gained power from owning souls, but a quick scan of the information told you little about what this actually entailed. Was owning souls like slavery? Did being locked in Vox’s bedroom mean your soul was already forfeit? All you found at first was that soul ownership required a contract of some sort, so you continued your search.

how to tell if you have a soul contract can you be forced into a soul contract how to get out of soul contracts

There was conflicting information on the exact nature of soul contracts, but the general consensus was that the contract required the participant to be cogent enough to sign their name, or at least shake the hand of their new owner. That meant that it was unlikely that Vox actually owned your soul. The bad news was that a person could be coerced into handing their soul over, and you still didn’t have much leverage on Vox. Eventually he would want a handle on you, and the thought of it made you uneasy. You needed an out. It looked like murder would work to break a contract, but Hell’s social media sites were full of people complaining about how difficult murdering a fellow sinner was. People, it seemed, could recover from nearly any level of injury. Fascinated, you followed the topic further.

can you kill sinners how to kill sinners

Unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only person on Hell’s internet interested in this topic. Aside from certain massive injuries, the answer that came up time and again was yes, angelic steel could kill sinners permanently.

what is angelic steel how to get angelic steel

The material was apparently from weapons dropped by heavenly exorcists, and highly sought after. It looked expensive, and you doubted that Vox would continue to buy your innocent act if you started asking him to bring you weapons. You checked the uses, scrolling down the list of applications until one caught your eye. Wire made from angelic steel was sought after by audiophiles for its use in the cabling of sound systems. And what was Vox, if not a man who would make for himself the best high fidelity sound system that money could buy? Stalking into the sitting area of Vox’s quarters, you surveyed his sound system. It stood about seven feet tall and a little longer across, the mesh over the speakers so black that it almost registered like a hole in your vision. You could almost imagine the sound it would produce just by standing there before it, the way the vibrations would run through your hooves and into your shins and through your spine. A shame, really. If you had been planning to stay longer, you could have asked Vox to play some music on it and sat there basking in the sound. Maybe even fucked to something slow and sensual, letting an external rhythm dictate your movements, letting the music override you.

With a sigh, you set the idea aside, opening one of the drawers set into the frame of the sound system. The thing was beautiful, so much so that you were reluctant to dismantle it unless you had to. Fortunately, a little rummaging led you to the spare cables that you hoped would be there, and running a talon over the protective coating, you slit one open. The metal inside was a whitish gold, braided thin enough to make a decent garrote. You tested the strength of it, winding each end of the cable around your hands and pulling it taut, and the feel of a weapon in your hands brought a giddy feeling to your chest. After days of feeling adrift, the tension of the wire between your fingers felt like finally hitting land.

You wouldn’t kill Vox. Not only was it a bad idea- you had no idea how much strength he had, and killing him would set Valentino and Velvette both after you- but you didn’t want to. Even if he had spent the entire time moaning the name of the man with your face, he was still a good fuck, and it felt like bad manners to repay those tender services with a red and sticky end.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the bottle of Valentino’s pheromones from the dresser by the bed, slipping it into the inside pocket of your tailcoat as you tossed the Voxtek phone you had been using back onto the bed. Drugs had never been your usual route of attack, but who knew what would be waiting for you outside the walls of the Voxtek compound?

Getting out of Vox’s suite was easy enough- the override password on the door was fuckalastor, all lower case. But once you were outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even with the length of angelic steel wire wound around your hand, you didn’t feel quite safe.

Alastor watched the V tower from the shadows, an ugly feeling in his chest. If the demon in the photos wasn’t him, as Angel Dust had claimed, he really had nothing to complain about. But the fact that Vox had seen fit to find a demon who was his doppelganger and then find fit to send evidence of those exploits to him? That was still an insult, a figurative glove across the face. His problem was twofold, however. Firstly, the constraints of his deal forbade him from undertaking violent action against anything not a direct threat to the hotel, which V tower very much was not. The second problem was that of his injuries from his fight against the angelic horde. He had lived, barely, but the rent across his chest was a persistent throbbing ache, a gap in him from which static escaped. It rendered him weak. It reduced him to watching and skulking like some street level cur.

It was in this state that he saw you exit the tower through one of the side entrances, your movements furtive and your ears down. You wore a copy of his own outfit in Voxtek blue, and the very sight of it brought a sour taste to Alastor’s mouth. How dare you, an impostor, a fraud, go round the city wearing Vox’s livery, as if the television demon owned you? It was embarrassing. He would make you take it off. Hissing rage between his teeth, Alastor followed you.

There was definitely someone following you. You could feel it. You had been on the other side of this equation too many times in your life, the fear of the other at the periphery of your awareness, chasing down with heartfelt and open-mouthed glee, that it was impossible to miss when you were the one being stalked. The shadows in Hell grew long and strange, studded with eyes and horns and mouths, and you took another blind turn into another darkened alley, grounding yourself with the sting of the angelic steel wire across your palm. You still weren’t wholly used to your new shape, and even now though you were no longer the trembling-legged fawn that Vox had half-carried to his bed a few nights previous, your gait wasn’t the steadiest. If you started running, you were fairly sure you would fall.

You would deal with it, whatever it was. That was how you had always done things. You chose the pragmatic option, you coped. You chose the righteous option, even if no-one agreed with you, even if it meant doing what no-one else could bring themselves to do. You chose the dangerous option, even if it meant staring down the creeping fear in your own heart. You slipped into the shadows, your back hard against the wall, garrote threaded between both of your hands, the pulse of your heartbeat a thunder in your ears, a pulse in your throat, the adrenaline of it making you almost dizzy, almost nauseous, almost aroused. In this your new body was the same as the old. You would catch your hunter, whoever they were.

He stalked round the corner, a figure in red, and with a start you recognized his silhouette as the same as your new body. Alastor. What had Vox said about him? A washed up radio host, a demon with no real power to speak off, feeding off the nostalgia of a bygone era? With a single motion you stepped behind him, looping the angelic wire around his neck and yanking it tight, pulling his body back against yours. He struggled, claws going to his neck, but his claws couldn’t shear the angelic steel any more than yours could.

Hissing, he twisted in your grasp, claws raking a symmetrical gash into your forearm, and you gave an involuntary, crackling cry, holding fast as you felt the blood well. Then two thick strands of shadow sprouted from Alastor’s back, pushing past your chest and wrapping around your own neck. You stumbled back in panic, back hitting the brick wall, vision blurring as the tentacle constricted your blood flow, your grip on the wire slackening. No! You couldn’t lose. There was no air in your throat but you still managed a noise, a soft whine like a capacitor failing to discharge, before your vision went truly black.

Well, that would have been an ignominious way to die. Alastor felt the mark at his throat and his hand came away bloody. His own blood. Sloppy. He gave a low noise of displeasure as he looked down at your unconscious form, the bright blue of that ridiculous parody of his suit now ripped and stained. He hadn’t been expecting a fight, not from Vox’s fucktoy. Had this been a trap after all? No, there were no reinforcements, no cameras. Not the television demon’s style.

Bending down, he took your chin between thumb and forefinger, examining your face closely. As it had been in the pornographic pictures that Vox had sent him, your face was a close match for his own, expression relaxed and naked in something close to sleep. What was more, it didn’t appear to be a disguise, your cervine features quite genuine.

Alastor ran his fingertip over your antler, freezing when he felt the velvet covering, the blood vessels just beneath the skin, a jolt in his heart. You were so vulnerable like this, a single cut and you could bleed out. No deer demon would go out like this. At least, not one who had knowledge of their own body. The implications sank in his gut like lead. How long had it taken for his antlers to mature, when he had come to Hell? A couple of weeks? Alastor felt his lips curl back further past his teeth, hating Vox a little more. Vox had nearly made him kill you, a newcomer to Hell, for the crime of being weak and confused enough to be dragged to Vox’s bed.

What should he do with you? Leaving you here so close to Vox’s domain would get you dragged back to the television, and you were an innocent, well, not quite an innocent, you had tried to garrote him with angelic steel wire, but few people in Hell were truly innocent. He couldn’t kill you, at least not now, with your supine form posing approximately no threat to him. With a resigned sigh, Alastor scooped you up in his arms, disgusting blue suit and all, and began his walk back to the hotel.

You awoke in an unfamiliar place, your face pressed into the pillows of a four-poster bed. It smelled like musk, a rich, smoky sort of smell, with an undercurrent of formaldehyde, and it was oddly comforting, wrapping around you almost like an embrace. Drowsily, you took stock of your body, the ache around your neck and a burning throb that seemed to cover your forearm, remembering the struggle in the alleyway. The scent in your nostrils pulled you back to the memory, with your hands at the back of your double’s neck. This was how Alastor had smelled. This was, unmistakably, Alastor’s bed. He had hunted you, and now he had taken you to his lair to toy with you. Your garrote was missing, predictably, as was the pheromone bottle you had stolen from Vox. You rolled onto your side to survey the room, and Alastor loomed from the shadows.

“Ah, the impostor rises,” chirped Alastor. His smile stretched practically ear to ear. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“My windpipe hurts,” you said, frowning at him.

“Oh, quid pro quo, dear child,” said Alastor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and undoing the collar of his shirt to show the bandage at his neck. “Do you have any idea how long it has been since someone made me bleed my own blood?”

“You were hunting me,” you said, not bothering with any of the cutesyness you had tried with Vox. Alastor had felt you close a wire around his neck- he would never see you as harmless.

“And you were quite the game, little impostor.” Alastor leaned over, and with a slow, deliberate motion, pressed his fingertips to your antlers. You had done your best thus far to ignore the existence of the two prongs sticking up from the top of your head, and even Vox had avoided touching them, so the sensation took you by surprise.

Your antlers were incredibly sensitive. You felt every variation in pressure, every adjustment in position, through your antlers, through their connection to the bone of your skull and further, down your spine and into your loins. Alastor met your eyes, his own half-lidded, and gave a gentle squeeze between thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, feeling the prongs grow under his hand, feeling your face heat.

“Hm. Soft,” he murmured, half to himself, before bringing your attention back to him with another little squeeze, directing your head to his lap. “Not much fight in you now, is there?”

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, heart in your throat.

“My dear, where would be the fun in that?” Alastor replied, his tone shifting to genuine amusement. “A touch could kill you right now.” As it to make a point, he ran a fingertip from the tip to the base of your antler, and you shivered as you felt the touch echo through your body. “Do you have any idea how much blood you would lose, with just one little nick?”

With Alastor touching you like this it was difficult to think straight. It was as if he knew this body better than you did, each touch intense to the very edge of painfulness, the sensations continuing to resonate through your body. You swallowed, burying your face against his thigh. “What do you want?”

“Now now, little pretender. That’s my line, not yours.” Alastor gave a soft laugh. “Though I imagine I know what you might desire. A world where Vox has no ability to drag you back to his bedchambers would be a start, don’t you think?”

Slowly, you nodded against his thigh, and Alastor gave a soft noise of approval. With both hands now he worked his touch from the base of your skull to your antlers, each movement a vivid, carnal pressure through your body. It was like nothing else, and you felt your antlers grow still further, your pulse throbbing through them, your cock aching untended against the inside of your pants, your cunt clenching unfilled. You bowed your head to Alastor’s gentle, dexterous touch, your mouth open as you moaned against his trouser leg, a clipping edge to your audio.

“Oh my, you are enjoying that.” The growl in Alastor’s voice was salacious. “Is it your first time? Does the mean old television demon not know how to touch you like this?”

You weren’t in the mood to indulge Alastor’s fantasies about Vox, not after days of doing the inverse, so instead you whimpered, “Thank you.”

“Mm. At least you have manners, I suppose.” Alastor lifted his hands from your antlers, and you gasped at their absence, the air cold where his fingertips had been warm. With a touch to your chin, he indicated that you should rise, and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows before sitting back.

Sitting up, you noticed that you were not the only one who had grown an impressive rack. Alastor’s antlers extended like the shadows of trees in winter, his own arousal written over his smiling face. They curled, dendritic and beautiful and unmistakably tied to his own libido, echoing through his own body in the same way as yours did. The way he touched you told you that, if nothing else.

Your eyes glazed, head tilting forward. You wanted to lock antlers with him. You wanted to touch him, bone to bone, and feel the same waves resonate through the two of you. You wanted it very, very badly.

Alastor caught you by your injured throat with a hiss. “If you do that,” he said. “You will die. Your antlers are too fresh, and you will damage them, and you will bleed out on my bedspread. So instead, sweet little pretender, you are going to lay quite still and let me tend to you.”

“S-sorry,” you stuttered as Alastor released you, the pain from his grip bringing you a little way back to your senses, your heart fluttering as tears stung your eyes. What did he see in you, you wondered. Was it a way to get one over on Vox? Or simply a reflection of his own face?

“Silly creature.” Alastor sighed, pushing you onto your back, and crawling over you, a depraved gleam in his eye. “You strangle me half to death in an alleyway, risking damage to my precious voice, and now is when you are tearful and apologetic? When I am trying to stop you from hurting yourself?” He placed a hand at your neck again, though with less pressure this time, just enough to hold your head in place.

You didn’t just want to lock antlers with him. You wanted to feel his lips against yours, sharp teeth against yours. “Would you kiss me?”

“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Hold still, now,” Alastor warned, and you felt how carefully he closed the distance between the two of you, how carefully he avoided even a brush of his antlers against yours, though electricity sang in their proximity, the shivering static of not quite the barest touch as Alastor’s lips closed on yours.

Compared to Vox he was a chaste kisser, not bullying his way in but leading you to him, leaving you wanting him, touching tonguetip to tonguetip, nose to nose, needlepoint tooth to lip. It left you gasping, left you quivering, your cock straining against the fabric of your trousers. With an almost coquettish roll of his hips, Alastor pushed his pelvis flush with yours, and you felt his own matching tent. Through four layers of fabric it was still an aching kind of hot, his pulse through it as surely as it was through his antlers. With a slow, measured motion he ground himself against your length, making you whimper soft distortion into his mouth, the tip of your cock leaking wetness and your neglected cunt absolutely slick.

“Oh, this will be fun.” Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners as he pulled back a little, his cock still pressing hard and hot against yours. “Call me a narcissist if you will, but I know that expression. Are you really going to climax, just from a little kissing?”

You would have corrected him, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how well he knew your body, how adeptly he stroked along the tines of your antlers, sensation resonating deep and intense through your body to your core, a master on an instrument you had yet to learn. Locking smug eyes with you, he rolled his hips against yours, grinding against you further, and you mewled for him, hips bucking a little as sensation threatened to overcome you, fighting against the inexorable tightness that built. But just as in the alleyway, this wasn’t a fight that you could win.

You came, your cock pulsing wetly against the inside of your pants as the reverberations through your body sang, a static whine on your lips, absolutely understanding why Vox had moaned Alastor’s name.

Both of you stilled for a moment after that, your body still wracked with aftershocks, Alastor watching you closely, his expression contented. He made no move to please himself, but rather traced the edge of your face, from your temple to your jaw, with his talons. “Good?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Good didn’t begin to describe it. It was sublime, another aftershock hitting you even now. You closed your eyes. “The best. Thank you, Alastor.”

“My pleasure.” Alastor looked down at you with a pleased smile. “You’ve made a real mess of that suit,” he said, a tilt of his head, his own desire for release seemingly forgotten. “Allow me to take it off for you.”

Alastor grinned at the hidden camera on the suit’s lapel, saying nothing but making sure it got a good shot of his face before he crushed it between thumb and forefinger.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin x reader #vox x reader #alastor x y/n #antlerplay #alastor x you x vox #alastor x reader x vox

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winchester-reload · 1 year

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Pairing: Dean/Cas

Tags: hurt/comfort, canon divergent, idiots in love

Read on AO3

All right, we’re officially outta gauze. We talkin’ about it?”

Cas sighed. His eyes swam along the ceiling, just as they’d been doing the entire evening. Through every stitch and wrap, he wouldn’t bring ’em down. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said quietly. “It was just bad luck.”

“Uh uh. This ain’t bad luck. Bad luck is what Sammy’s gonna have if I lose you messy on a bad hunt. So how bout you go ahead and try that for me again.”

“It was just supposed to be one mimic—”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation— You know better than that!”

“Things happen, Dean. Things outside of our control. This was that. Things happened. It was a bad lead, but I made it out. That’s what should matter right now.”

Dean shook his head, tossed an empty gauze roll, now just a cardboard skeleton, and watched it clatter against the tin garbage can. Roll away. Tip and settle on its side near the door. It felt like it’d wobbled into his gut. He fussed at a frayed string along the fresh wrap at Cas’ chest, red already weeping through the cotton. He waited. When Cas still didn’t look at him, he sloughed the whole nurse routine and slid gentle fingertips up the bruises on his neck. Kissed the rough turn of his jaw as he planted a knee on the bed and stretched over him, careful of where he put his weight. Stopping only as Cas reluctantly caught his eye. “Yeah, it does matter,” Dean agreed. “Which is why you can’t just rip your grace out and run, balls out, toward the first hunt you find. I don’t care how good you are. You shoulda told me. Or you should’ve at least told Sam.”

“I did tell Sam—“

“Before it was a 9-1-1, Cas! Okay? Before! That wasn’t okay, and I’m pissed at you for it!”

Tears cropped up in Cas’ eyes, the deep frown in his brow waning to worry. “I know,” he relented. “I’m pissed at me too. It was stupid.”

“It was stupid—damn stupid.” Dean felt it go, the little water balloon of emotions in his chest that used to have brick sides and no air holes. It was exposed now, popped easily with Cas’ pins. “I can’t lose you, you understand? Not again. I don’t think I could come back from it.” Tears ate down his face, and Cas urgently chased them, trying to thumb them away. Like the whole world would fall with them if they got down too far.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, exhaustion, maybe pain, finally winning out in his stubborn body. Or maybe he just couldn’t handle seeing Dean raw. Maybe that’s what shattered him every damn time. “It was just supposed to be one Mimic. Just one Mimic.” His own tears escaped, rolled through his temples into his hair, then onto the soft pillow behind his head, and Dean suddenly felt compelled to stop those too.

“All right, that’s enough.” He kissed Cas’ cheek, the wet trail at his temple. Dragging the tip of his nose gently alongside Cas’ again, where it belonged. It was easy sometimes to forget he was a warrior. A real one, not like Dean. He was Heaven-forged and army-trained. At one time, he was the leader of his own battalion. An angel strong enough to crack God’s hold and receptive enough to learn to love. Wise enough to understand the weight of both. And all of that was tucked into a fragile human now, healing beneath the sheets of Dean’s bed. A thought that made Dean feel unbelievably tiny and incomparably huge.

“We’re okay,” he said as he kissed Cas' mouth. Then, “You’re okay now,” because that seemed even more important. A smile finally broke away from him, running wild against the heat on Cas’ skin. “I can’t believe you got all seven vamps on your own, you showoff.”

#happy canon day!#something small for you all 💙💚#destiel #destiel art #my art #my fic

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hobie-enthusiast · 9 months

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FATES AND CANONS !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— hobie brown and his six canon events

— angst, fluff, comfort, no happy ending (kinda?), petnames, major character death (twice, including reader), pretty long fic, might go against some comic canons, anarchist reader, cutesy kisses

— let’s play spot the tv girl reference 😜 anyway sorry for the delay ive been traveling, got sick, and now school starts next week, woohoo. so enjoy this for a little :)

The first canon event Hobie Brown experienced was being bitten by a radioactive spider.

But of course, that much is known. It’s the origin of every Spider-person in every dimension. That story has been over-told.

The real stories come from the preceding canon events, one that though every Spider-person goes through, it’s story-worthy each time.

—

The second canon event Hobie Brown experienced was the death of his best friend.

This friend was someone so dear to him, one he met at his lowest times on the streets. They picked each other up, helped each other out, and always had each other's backs. His best friend had big dreams just like him; stop the corrupt system of the Prime Minister and uplift the voices of the minorities. And his way of doing that was joining the police force, working on the inside to break it down and show others that the government is corrupt. Hobie had a friend on the inside, and together, they were able to stage protests and riots that were completely unbothered by the troops, thanks to his friend’s rank as captain.

Until he got infected with Norman Osborn's toxicity.

Hobie didn't realize it was him. He was bringing down those pigs left and right with his soundwaves, fighting for his side. He thought that there was no way he was in this. He was stronger than that.

But then he finished them all, and when the black goo disintegrated from the bodies, he saw that all-too-familiar person.

Hobie Brown had killed his best friend.

He was quick to run to his side, hands trembling. "Shit mate.. 't wasn't supposed t' be you."

"Hobie..?" His friend questioned, only then laughing quietly. "Hmm.. shoulda known my best mate t'was the coolest super in the world."

Quickly, Hobie moves his friend to a secluded alleyway, where he can take his mask off. There, his friend can see the way tears prick the corners of Hobie’s eyes. No one ever really sees him cry. This was a sight, a sad one at that.

"'m so sorry.." Hobie whispers.

His friend shakes his head. “Don’t be. Ya did good.”

Despite those words, Hobie couldn’t help but feel deeply guilty. He was just trying to do good? Why did this happen?

He was Spider-punk. Wasn’t he supposed to be able to save everyone?

“Ya gotta keep doin’ this.”

Hobie’s thoughts were interrupted as his friend grabbed his arm, gaining his attention. He was way worse looking than a couple seconds ago. Blood pooled around his stomach. Hands stained red from coughing it up. He wasn’t going to make it. Hobie knew that.

“Not killin’ your best friend, obviously.” He laughs at his own joke weakly. “But fightin’ for the people. They need ya, Hobie.”

Hobie nods in understanding. He promised him he would. It was always easier to make a dying person such bold promises. But Hobie could never give up on helping the people.

Even as his best friend takes his final breath, Hobie swore to protect the innocent. Even if he can’t save everyone, he’ll try his hardest.

Because that’s what he promised his best friend.

—

The third canon event Hobie Brown experienced was meeting the love of his life.

It was post concert; spirits were high and everyone was dying to meet the lead guitarist. Hobie’s onstage presence was something to marvel at, one that everyone adored.

You were no exception. You noticed the way Hobie was seemingly getting lost in the music. He was so passionate about his music, about what he performed. You admired that, truly. Not many musicians nowadays care about having a good onstage presence. Even with a band.

Lucky for you, your good friend was the bassist for the band. He was the one who invited you tonight, who wanted you to meet the band. He came out from backstage after the show and lead you to the dressing room.

“Alright mates, this is [Name].” Your friend points out each band member, stating their names before realizing something. “Aye, where’s ‘obie?”

His band didn’t seem to know, but you just shrugged it off. Though, you couldn’t deny the small sliver of disappointment that came with not meeting him. Soon, you excused yourself to grab some water, exiting the room.

What you didn’t expect was to run into someone.

“Crap, my bad. Didn’t see you there!” You immediately apologize, glancing up at the stranger.

Except it wasn’t a stranger. It was Hobie Brown. “‘s alright, swee’heart. No hard feelin’s.”

Hobie, after the show, decided to grab something to drink. He played a good show at the pub, so he rightfully thought he deserved it. But people were getting irritating, being touchy and pushy. He didn’t really appreciate that, and soon went backstage to find his bandmates.

When walking down the way, he said hello to a couple of the crew members. They were always considerate, doing their job correctly. Surely they deserve at least a wave and a verbal confirmation Hobie saw them.

Then, his spider-sense started tingling. Glancing around, he was quick to realize there was no true threat. But then he ran into you, and time seemingly stopped.

At the time, Hobie couldn’t describe the feeling of seeing you for the first time. It was like a part of him connected for the first time. You were a missing piece that he never knew he was even missing. But why did his senses go off for you?

“Actually, you’re Hobie, right?” You question, pointing up at him. “I’m a friend of the bassist in ‘ur band. It’s nice to meet you.”

Hobie muses. “Pleasure’s all mine, darlin’. C’mon, ‘ll take ya back t’ ‘em.”

The guitarist would be lying if he said he didn’t take you in the wrong direction for a little while. He wanted to get to know you more. And you weren’t complaining. Hobie was an incredibly charming guy.

The rest of the night was spent chatting with him. You couldn’t seem to leave him alone, and Hobie couldn’t keep his eyes off of you either. The two of you worked well together, and everyone in the band seemed to notice.

So Hobie slipped his number into your pocket, giving a kiss on your cheek. Bold, sure, but he had to make his move. Nobody has ever made him feel this way.

He can’t let you slip from his fingers.

—

The fourth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was giving up his mask.

Being Spider-punk was not everything Hobie cracked it out to be. He was constantly putting himself in danger, and you in the process. Everything was just so tiring. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He finally caught his breath after a confrontation, sliding down against the wall. He panted heavily, clutching tightly on his guitar. He barely made it out.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell..” He muttered, coughing and hacking.

Hobie Brown was tired of this. He stood up, taking off the parts of his suit that came undone. Searching for a nearby garbage, he found one. Then, Hobie simply shoved his suit into it messily.

Staring down at the bin, he slung his guitar on his back. Then he just.. walked from the alleyway, never taking a second glance back.

The walk back home to you was long, considering he didn’t swing there. But when he made it, he let himself into the door, placing his guitar on the table. His eyes caught you in his peripheral vision.

You glance from the counter, giving a smile. “Hey, Hobes! How was-” Your words fall short at the solemn expression he wore. “What happened?”

Your boyfriend stayed silent as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Nothin’.. ‘s all done..”

“Done? What do you mean?”

He sighs, face in your shoulder. Should he even-?

Of course he should.

“I gave it up. ‘m done bein’ Spider-man. A symbol.. or whateve’.”

You turn your body to face him, taking his hands to analyze him. You frown, eyes narrowing as he just stares down. When was the last time you saw Hobie so.. defeated?

Then, a sigh. “Hobes.. listen..”

You move your hands to cup his face, lifting him to face you directly. His tired eyes meet yours, and you give a smile.

“You can’t give it up. This is your favourite thing to do for the people.. Being their voice. But it’s okay to take breaks.” You start, gently stroking his cheek. “‘s not selfish.. you’re trying to be the best for them. To fight for them. But you can’t do that if you’re so tired, my love..”

Hobie chuckles quietly, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Always the wise one..” Is all he mutters.

You muse, rubbing his back gently. “Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”

“…mmkay...”

And you surely took care of him. You cooked for him. You cleaned up his wounds. You cuddled with him in bed. Anything to help Hobie feel better from such a long day. Even then.. from such a long and tiring career.

Hobie is so incredibly thankful for everything you do. The way you’re so tender with him. The way you just seem to know what to do to help him. You’re so incredible to him.

So he whispers a simple ‘thank you, swee’heart’ to thank you, finally letting his body rest and recuperate to continue his work in the coming days.

—

The fifth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was kissing the love of his life upside down.

It was cheesy, as Hobie and you could describe it. But he had just taken down some more corrupt government, seeing victory shine in his eyes. On top of that, he previously asked you to marry him, and you saying yes only added to his wonderful day.

Of course, your shared idea of marriage was different. In short, he put one of his rings on yours to be the symbol. The two of you would spend a day together, forge a silly little paper to say your married, sneak it in the courts, and call it a day. The perfect wedding for the perfect anarchist couple.

After his successful take down, he swung to the neighborhood you two lived in. It was quaint, you both preferred it that way. Somewhat safer as well.

He heard you earlier say you had to head to the corner shoppe, so that’s where he went. He lied on the rooftop with a perfect view of the entrance. Then, all he had to do was sit, and wait to see your pretty face walk out.

When you did, he turned himself upside down to hang on the side of the building, calling out to you. “Back from a day’s work of corrup’ gover’ment take down.”

You glance down the alleyway the voice came from, an amused smile cornering your lips. You glance around before making your way towards Hobie. Gently placing down the groceries, you glance up at him.

“Hope all that blood and ego doesn’t rush to your head, hanging upside down like that.” You tease.

“Can’t help how cool I truly am.” He replies, lowering himself so that he’s now at your level, still upside down. “You seem t’ think so too. Wha’s that on ‘ur finger, hm?”

“Geez, this gonna be a regular thing?” You fake a groan, hands finding placement on Hobie’s cheeks.

“‘s like y’know me so well..”

You stare at your fiancé for a while, just admiring him. The way he seemingly gave no care to anyone who judged him. He lived so freely, teaching you how to follow after him. Hobie Brown was so magnificent.. and here he was, at your every whim.

Before you knew it, your fingers began taking off the lower bit of his mask. Rolling it up, to reveal his beautiful lips, lip piercing shining in contrast to his beautiful skin.

“Wha’s this for?” He questions, hands holding tightly onto your now dropped ones.

You smile. “Such a.. silly reason, I’m afraid.” You mutter, leaning into his body. “I just wanted to kiss you..”

Then you lean in, kissing Hobie gently. His lips immediately match yours, taking in the warmth you provide. The kiss is so loving.. so incredibly beautiful. It is your first engaged after all.

Even when you pull away, a smirk plays at his lips. He brings his hands up to cup your face, pulling you in for another long kiss. He just can’t ever get enough of you.

Hobie never did believe in canon events. Of course he’s experienced so many with you now. But he can’t help but still keep his belief away from the idea. Because that could lead to your demise.

And Hobie will be damned if you die on him.

—

The sixth canon event Hobie Brown experienced was losing the best thing to ever happen to him.

It was a protest gone wrong. You both agreed to march the front lines, to protest for a better living wage for the lower class. Something the two of you have been fighting for for months on end.

Government never liked protests.

Of course, they sent their force to shut it down. To “stop any future damage”. But that was only a front. The pigs sent down actually stormed the crowd of protesters, putting their hands on anyone they could find.

Hobie quickly took on his Spider-punk role, defeating anyone he can before it happened. He saved a ton of lives, swiping them away from the police before webbing the bad guys to buildings. Things were going good for him. Until the explosion.

He just landed on a building to try and observe who still needed help. His eyes caught you shoving down a cop onto the ground, and his smile under the mask grew. You glanced up at him, giving your own smile, and a wave.

Hobie was about to swoop down to come grab you, but the cop got up, through his explosive to the ground. It rolled right next to your feet.

“Shit! [Name], watch-!”

But his words were too late. The explosion sent you flying into the side of a building, back thrown against it harshly. Almost everyone began scrambling after that, running from the scene. But not Spider-punk. He immediately made it to you, picking up your weak body.

His breathing picked up. “No.. no, ‘s not like this. Jus’, hang on.” He whispered over and over, swinging to a nearby rooftop.

You groan, already feeling the crimson liquid leak from your head and stomach. Everything was blurry, like a daze. Yet Hobie’s face was clear and recognizable. Even under his mask, he showed such obvious signs of worries, even regret.

Eventually, he drops his own body to the ground, yanking his mask off. His hands immediately hold your again.

“Damn.. just like.. that, hm?” You managed, body already showing the signs of shutting down. “Hurts, y’know?”

“Don’’ you dare give up on me.” Hobie muttered, ripping off the sleeve to his suit. “‘s all gonna be fine.”

You laugh weakly, head thrown back. “Dunno if I’ve got a choice, Hobes..”

With careful fingers, Hobie ties his sleeve around the wound. He didn’t want to hurt you more, but the bleeding had to stop before getting any worse. A small part of him knew it was hopeless. Futile, even. He was almost back in the beginning. When he was barely starting out in his duties, and he failed to save his good friend. Now he failed to save you. Here you were, dying in his arms.

Hobie took a deep breath. “Ya can’t.. swee’heart, c’mon..”

“Don’t be sad, Hobes..” You whisper, hand finding his cheek. “I wanna see you smile..”

Of course you would request that, only you. He gives such a weak laugh, one that brings the best smile he can manage. But it quickly turns back to sadness.

Then, a smile graces your face. “God.. I love that smile..” You whisper, coughing weakly. Blood seeps through the cloth on your stomach. You were losing it.

“‘m gonna miss ya, swee’heart.. s’much..” Hobie says, tears falling from his eyes.

“I know, Hobes.”

Hobie doesn’t remember the last time he let himself cry like this. Maybe when he was a kid? When his best friend died? Who knows. But now, now his tears wouldn’t stop flowing, nose sniffing over and over again.

Why can’t you just stay?

“I have’ta go..” You say sadly, almost as if reading his thoughts. “Don’t you dare.. stop bein’ a hero, ya hear? I’ll rise just to smack you..” Were your next words, almost as if reprimanding him.

Once again, Hobie laughed his quiet laugh. “Well now I neve’ can.. Jus’ f’you..” He says in a whisper.

You feel your breathing start to fall short, coughing and hacking. Hobie holds you tighter, whispers of “I love you” and “I’ll miss you” exchanged over and over.

“I love you.. Hobie Brown..” Were your last words. “My Spider-punk..”

And then.. you were gone. Just like that.

—

“Hobie? Hobie!”

Gwen had to call out to him a mere three times before he came back to. His eyes shut and opened as he remembers where he was. Right, Spider-society. Gwen and him were walking and chatting.

“Righ’, sorry Gwendy.”

Gwen waves it off. “Don’t even worry. Anyways, I heard about a couple new recruits.”

Hobie listened to his younger friend talk and talk, but his mind was elsewhere. Today was a particularly.. memorable day. He just couldn’t seem to get you out of his head. Normally Hobie wouldn’t complain.. but he misses you.

His thoughts circle him too much, and next thing he knows, he bumped into another Spider-totem.

“Crap, my bad. Didn’t see you there!”

…what?

Hobie knows that voice. Of course he does. He glances down at the stranger, finally seeing the face he missed so much. The face his nights yearned to see again. The face he missed screaming and supporting him at his concerts. The face of you.

“…uhm, are you okay? Oh my god I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”

Gwen glanced back from her spot, noticing the scene occurring. Her eyes widen. Oh no..

She immediately walks to the two of you, chuckling awkwardly. “Hey! So sorry, he’s in a little daze today! C’mon Hobie!”

You glance up at the guy again, finally getting a good look at him. But he’s just staring. His eyes are seemingly.. longing. They’re lonely, that much you can tell. He has a demeanor about him.. one that reminds you of someone. Even his face looks familiar.. wait!

“What a coincidence!” You suddenly say. “My boyfriend’s name is Hobie! From my dimension at least.”

Hobie finally snapped from his trance, your words reaching his ears. “How.. coinciden’al..” He whispers.

“Well.. it was nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile, offering out a hand for him to shake. “Hope t’ see ya around!”

He shakes your hand and.. oh does the contact feel so good. But he doesn’t linger. Hobie simply watches you walk off, that same cheerful demeanor reflecting in your every step.

Of course it felt like you got away again. And he had almost no doubt that the Hobie you love so dear will meet a demise. But he’ll stick with you. Stick with being your friend and being there when you need him.

Because Hobie would walk through this pain a thousand times if it meant you were in his life again.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv hobie

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paprikko-lol · 1 year

Text

children of the storm

I have many thoughts. look under the cut to read them >:D (click for quality tumblr fucked it up bad)

my hands slipped and made a new au for wojira duo. whoops.

so the au starts around the time that seabound ends, with nya as this big-ass water dragon thing and kinda just wandering around the ocean saving random sailors out of habit. within her first week or so she starts hearing a soft hum in her head, and eventually, the voice starts to speak a bit. in this form, she is the most connected to her element than she ever has been or ever will be, so she’s finally able to connect to the other half of her element, wind, aka morro. she's hearing his thoughts, basically.

but morro’s dead, right? kinda. a little. let me explain.

for some reason, the writers never bothered to establish the existence of a new master of wind after morro died (which totally shoulda happened btw), so that implies that morro never died to begin with. I decided to make the explanation as vague and random as possible because that's what I’m best at!! yeah.

in this au, it's revealed that morro never actually got sent to the departed realm in the s5 finale, and instead was manifested as a huge purple dragon similar to nya’s current form. this only happened because he never had anyone to pass his element to, so he was instead sent to guard the skies by the first master himself until morro could find someone who he deemed fit enough to wield the wind after him.

of course, morro being the stubborn asshole he is (affectionate), chose that brooding in the mountains is a better fate than giving up his wind. he lives on the highest of all peaks in ninjago, where no one will try to find him. he decides that he may as well stay true to the task the first master put on him; he’s not sure he can handle the guilt of going against him after what he did to wu.

ok enough about the emo bitch. back to the cool one. nya has developed a mental link with morro now that they’ve both reached the highest point of connection with their elements. she eventually works up the courage to talk to him, and he reluctantly responds. in canon, nyad is the one to help nya remember her life, but in this version it's morro. she freaks out when she realizes who she's talking to, but morro isn't acting like a vengeful psychopath, so over a few months nya and morro begin to talk to each other more and more. eventually, they become friends :D

I have more planned, but this is all I'll put for now because it's already getting way too long lmao. send me an ask if you wanna hear more tho, I'll gladly share!

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memory-and-sky · 8 months

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HIIIIIIIIIIIIII MATT HOW YA DOING SWEETHEART?

I saw that you wanted requests and decided to jump in on that 💗

How about Hobie x reader where they are on patrol and reader just drops the most philosophical sentence just out of the blue and Hobie is like

Wtf how are you the most interesting and smart person ever?

Would that be nice? If not feel free to ignore dude

(PS: drink water and take care of yourself 💗 love ya)

this is such an awesome request, thank you for this! i took a few creative liberties, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless :3 !!

word count: ~700

containing: swearing, mentions of death/dying (nothing too in-depth), not quite dating but a little more than friends, hobie x gn!reader, just talking about stuff on a roof together

the rest of the fic is under the cut!

philosophical shit. hobie x gn!reader

(aka what i think about past 9pm)

You and your work partner, Hobie, had just gotten done containing another malicious anomaly in some random universe.

The sun was just beginning to set, though, and you thought you'd stay until it fully settled, until the stars came out. Then you’d clock out and go home.

It was a gorgeous, clear evening. You felt the cool wind blow through your hair as you sat on the top of a decently tall building, glad to be mostly done with your work for the day.

Suddenly, you heard an all too familiar voice from behind you. "Mind if I join ya, mate?"

It was Hobie, of course.

"Sure. Thought you were heading back now, though.." You craned your neck, and leaned back to look at Hobie as he walked over to sit next to you.

"Soundin' like ya don' wan' me around, love." He chuckled to himself, sitting down cross-legged, and gazing out into the colourful sky with you.

It was beautiful. Your universe was never really this pretty.

"Wasn't half bad back there, eh?"

"You or me? I think I did most of the work there." You offered a small smile.

Hobie laughed. "Fuck off, ya wanker. Seemed equal 'cause I had to save your sorry arse. Shoulda given me so much as a plain 'thanks, 'obie' 'n I'd be chuffed."

You sighed, looking down as you fidgeted with your hands. Looking back up at the changing sky, you couldn't help but think of what could've happened, had Hobie not been there to save you.

I mean, you could've probably handled it, but what if you didn't?

"You know, I always have felt sort of unhappy with myself. My life, and whatever. Whenever something like that happens, it always scares the shit out of me and makes me think about dying a lot more vividly and realistically."

You shift to lay down on your back, arms supporting your head. "Fuck, for all I know that could be my canon event... dying. It really fuckin' puts stuff into perspective. The whole canon events thing, I mean. How am I supposed to live life freely, and even just normally, when I know there's a goddamn model that a computer came up with that already dictates my entire life, birth to death? How am I important at all?"

Hobie stared at you, eyes a little wide, a little slack-jawed at your intelligent, observant remarks.

"Christ, ya good, mate?" He chuckled, regaining his usual smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered onto his stupidly attractive face. "Gettin' a bit serious there, yeah? Thought I lost ya for a sec. But, love, I do see what ya mean. 'S quite hard to feel like 'ur in control when 'ur entire bloody life seems planned out. Y'know, canon ain't always right, though. I didn't go through tha' whole stereotypical 'officer savin' a li'l kid' event, so 's able to be changed somewhat."

He shrugged, messing with a loose thread on his pants absentmindedly.

You nodded, resting your hands on your stomach. "Yeah… I know. I just feel like I'm stuck in a cage and I can't do anything about it until I'm dead."

"Mm, don' we all, love.." Hobie shifted over to grin down at you. He seriously tried to play it cool, but he was freaking out, and totally all nerves on the inside. You sounded so smart and educated, this whole interaction totally came out of left field.

Which was more than welcome, fuck, Hobie would be the first to admit that he loved discussing things like this with you. You were so confident in your words, and more importantly, how you said them, and it made you even more beautiful in his eyes. If that was even possible.

He adored every part of you.

Your dorky smile, all your imperfections… Hobie loved that you didn’t hide them and didn’t let people tell you shit, and just your whole personality... it'd take him forever and a day to list everything that he loved about you.

Especially now, you looked artistically beautiful. Like a painting, with all the warm colours swirling around you, illuminating your skin and basking you in the fleeting sunlight.

"Oh, Hobie,"

"Hm?" He snapped out of scanning every aspect and detail of you for a moment.

You leaned into him after sitting straight up, closer and closer, and then pecked his cheek. "Thanks."

All Hobie's blood rushed up straight to his cheeks, and he offered nothing but a blank stare, an awkward laugh, and a light touch to where you kissed.

"Y-yeah, mate... f'course,"

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crimeronan · 9 days

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On the topic of How Do You Handle XYZ Comment, I've always wondered how you handle terrible responses on your toh takes. Like I know the toh fandom doesn't lack piss on the poor reading comprehension and they also really enjoy wildly out of touch takes, but I've never seen any comments on your princess luz stuff of that nature. I'm sure they must be there but maybe I'm too early? But anyway, how do you tend to deal with the "acktually shipping luz and Hunter is incest" and the "ur not a real lesbian because putting amity in a poly ship is lesbian erasure" and the "as a white person kinda sus you make the poc woman an empress" kind of responses? Ones that are technically not hate and maybe if you squint could be from people who aren't inherently trying to do bad but just lack the maturity needed to engage with the internet at large?

this ask made me giggle. honestly, i haven't received as much pushback as you might expect! way less pushback than i expected. in the princess AU, i've gotten a LOT more "this is actually too grotesque for me to stomach" comments than "this is problematic" comments, which is fine. horror-thriller isn't for everyone, those comments do not upset me.

i have had a Few run-ins with bad faith people, whom i mostly block. there's one prolific commenter in toh tumblr fandom who would repeatedly write angry essays on my humor meta posts -- essays that were all about how belos is too evil to be sympathetic and/or about how hunter is a soft gentle boy who shouldn't be jokingly referred to as evil. then they'd go "i can't help my active and conscious decision to type a bunch of rude fucking words and then my active and conscious decision to send those rude fucking words because i'm autistic :(((" around the fourth or fifth time this happened, i was fucking done with that nonsense and finally blocked them. shoulda done it after the first comment tbh!! no more autism exceptions.

as for the rest of it, my main management strategy is to simply.... preempt the bad faith comments?

i had a LOT more unpleasant and conflict-filled fandom experiences when i was in the raven cycle fandom. that was my first exposure to "you can't ship multi-gender polycules if anyone involved is gay" and "queerplatonic het relationships are just heteronormativity shipping that you're trying to get away with." having dealt with those takes before, i've found a few different ways to disarm bad faith readers before they get started.

first is to be super open and honest about my interests. i talk about what i find compelling in different relationships All The Damn Time. it's really hard for anyone to accuse me of only wanting hunter to fuck amity if they've seen, like.... anything i've said about hunter and amity.

same with hunter and luz. the only negative reactions i've really gotten to how they're written in the princess AU is like.... two people being squicked by camila thinking they're romantically involved. i REALLY expected more pushback on the touchyfeely bed sharing stuff, but from what i remember, there's never been Any....? not even from people who consider them siblings.

i expected a lot of pushback on how mean hunter and amity are to each other, since it's taken So much farther than the canon. but it turns out that there's a very large overlap between people who like dark horror AUs and people who like hunter and amity murdering each other. (in a fluffy fic i don't think this characterization would fly Nearly as easily.)

i find that being funny really disarms people, too. when you look at any of my toh meta posts that could be controversial, they're basically all funny. people are a lot more willing to listen to what you have to say if you make them laugh, and it's harder for them to get angry at you.

and then the last thing is that i think i'm in sort of a privileged position in toh fandom. i've written a lot of controversial subjects and relationships and characterizations.... but i've also written some WILDLY popular mainstream fic. and people who like the mainstream fic don't really want to beef with me about differing niche opinions, bc there's a level of respect there. which they might not have for a writer they don't like.

but anyway. when things Do happen, i almost always just block and move on. there are so many people here who get what i'm talking about that there's no need for me to try to convert people who don't, you know??

#also the 'making a character of color an empress is problematic' thing made me laugh aloud #as for THAT... i don't think i've ever been accused of racism in how i write luz (or camila or raine or darius or hennessy for that matter)#i'm obviously imperfect and have blind spots as a white writer. but i also like to think i do my due diligence #at the Very Least i have Black and latine friends willing to sensitivity read for me & i've gone to native spanish speakers for camila's #dialogue. etc. if anyone has a take that's THAT bad faith about how i write women of color i'm just gonna uh.....#assume that what they really mean is that they want me to write white boys exclusively.#and well. i will not be doing that!#replies #toh #princess luz au #long post #if there are typos in this i apologize. i was out again all day and i am Le Tired

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

It’s the way I was gonna send this earlier but got distracted-

gojo and geto blurb that is in my head bc I just watched hidden inventory arc.

No it is not canon, no I don’t know how their powers work

AND NO THERE ARE NO SPOILERS ❤️❤️❤️

“You haven’t slept in two days, and you aren’t planning on sleeping again tonight, are you?”

I’m just so deep in thought abt this scene bc yeah. So here’s how I think the scene shoulda gone bc Gege is a coward:

—

The two nights of not sleeping were catching up to him, and Gojo feels like he’s going to die on day three. His body feels like a lead weight, and he can barely move. His eyes are burning, but he can’t dare to close them. He has to keep on full alert for… reasons.

Geto comes in and sees him in the state he’s in. His heart immediately drops. Gojo looks like he’s about to collapse.

He comes up next to the chair and places a hand on the white-haired sorcerer’s shoulder. The man jumps a good few feet in the air. “Shit- Suguru, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Satoru,” Geto whispers. “How’re ya’ holding up?”

“Decent,” Gojo hums, accentuated with a yawn. “I think I can smell shapes now.”

The brunette exhales a chuckle, kneeling to the left of the chair. “Yeah? What does a circle smell like?”

“Like a-“ he yawns, subsequently rubbing his sore temples. “Like- like uh- yeah.”

“I agree,” Suguru replies, turning off the lamp before slowly bringing his hand up to thumb at his friend’s thigh. “I’m sorry you have to be up for so long.”

The two are left in darkness, causing Gojo to release a loud sigh of relief “I’ll be fine… I’ve got you with me.”

The whisper in Gojo’s tone lets Geto know that his friend is about to cry. “Switch with me.”

“What?”

“I said switch. Let me sit.”

“Hah? Suguru-“

“Satoru, stand up.”

Begrudgingly, and with great effort, Gojo manages to stay upright for about four seconds before his knees and thighs fail and send him back down. He sits in the brunette’s lap, head hanging low.

“There you go… yeah… shh… let go, Satoru; it’s okay...” Geto soothes as he pushes the latter’s head against his chest. “You just get some sleep, and I will keep watch.”

“But-“

“Satoru-“

“Suguru, I can’t.” There’s pain in his voice. Geto can feel the shaking of Gojo’s body as tears burn behind his eyes. “I-I have to p-protect-“

“And you can’t protect them while you’re exhausted,” Suguru soothes as he starts to comb through the white mop beneath his fingertips. “If they came after us now, what would you do?”

There’s no reply.

“Please…rest, Satoru,” Geto begs, hugging his friend closer to him. “It’s just us awake… you can be vulnerable now. You don’t have to be the strongest with me.”

With that spoken confirmation, Satoru shivers as he breaks down into soft cries. Suguru cuddles him with zero judgement and zero words spoken. He hums a soft song the two have always enjoyed as he begs the greater gods above to allow Gojo to sleep.

After a mere ten minutes, the white-haired male is sleeping soundly with residual tears on his face. Geto sighs in relief and hugs Gojo closer to him as he releases his cursed companion to watch over them all.

Gojo would probably be pissed at him, or he would pretend it never happened. But either way, Suguru smiles as he rubs his friend’s back and shoulders.

Tomorrow will have to be the judge…

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*inhales*

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

DUCKY! Oh my- *explodes* THIS IS EVERYTHING??? (and nah you're totes right Gege get on Ducky's level with this emotional ANGST) Gojo not taking care of himself and Geto having to step in feels so canon? And him humming songs while he breaks down GAH! I love this and I love them- thank you for sharing this delightful masterpiece I am in HEAVEN! *hugs a thousand hugs*

#squiggily speaks #ask #duckymcdoorknob #ducky :3 #friend :3 #Excuse me while I go curl up somewhere and cry about how much I love this #I am just- AHHHH!#*hugs you a thousand times*#THIS IS AMAZING #And Geto would probably let a curse out as guard; that's just who he is :3 #so this feels pretty accurate!#Now you got me thinking about their arc and just- OOF #feelings!#But we're surviving!

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thewebcomicsreview · 4 months

Text

Homestuck 2 updated today! Even I'm not enough of a dork to leave a Christmas Party to go read Hamsteak, but it got late and I'm back now, so let's do it. Months ago, but not many, before Alt!Calliope collapsed. Has it really been months, in-universe, since Dave/Aradia left Candy? Time is confusing, especially in Homestuck.

Oh wait, this is after Jade broke free of Calliope's control back in Chapter 6. That was months ago? Man, it's so weird how we've cut back to the Meat Rocket several times since then and Jade just....hasn't done anything or said anything about being possessed? At least onscreen? Totally glossed over.

Probably the biggest mystery in HSBC right now is who the Candyland narrator is. The "Lady" giving commands is clearly Alt Calliope, so who's the narrator pushing back on her here?

Oh. We have another Alt Calliope. An Alt-er Calliope. This seems to literally be the same person as Alt Calliope, though, since they re-fuse. Maybe this is something to do with Ultimate Selves, which might be why non-Alt Calliope is so afraid of her.

Cutting from Alt Calliope talking about decorum to Davebot and Aradia taking selfies with her corpse is a cute gag. I'd forgotten Aradia had a new Calliope-themed outfit. That's kind of weird.

DAVEBOT: to be fair this was typical teen jade behavior DAVEBOT: honestly shoulda done a little more research into that host body

Oh that's an interesting explanation for why Alt-Calliope-In-Pre-Retcon-Jade's-Body passed out (and almost certainly not the original team's reason). But Jade's narcolepsy was Vriska-induced.

DAVEBOT: you just went on another one didnt you ARADIA: yes DAVEBOT: who did you meet this time ARADIA: the necr- DAVEBOT: no dont tell me its simply too much to bear ARADIA: are you doing a bit DAVEBOT: of course im doing a bit

I do like the idea that Aradia uses her time powers to have entire adventures in between sentences. I suppose this also makes Pesterquest's Aradia arc canon, since that involved a bunch of HS2 stuff. I haven't played Pesterquest in forever so I don't know if the "necr-" ("necromancer"?) is a reference to that or foreshadowing.

ARADIA: actually i doomed thousands of timelines DAVEBOT: thats kind of fucked up ARADIA: yeah! ARADIA: to be fair i was doing it on purpose DAVEBOT: thats even more fucked up

Aradia is the best troll.

Dave's pillow wearing sunglasses is a great gag. Also, a cute character moment. Those glasses were a gift from John, and Dave kept them even after becoming a robot.

ARADIA: i could go see him right now DAVEBOT: you wont ARADIA: i wont 0u0

Assuming "him" in Sollux, that seems to imply that Aradia can come and go to Candyland freely, which is...interesting.

ARADIA: youre welcome 0u0 ARADIA: anyway the point im making here is that some of these missteps end up serving a grander purpose ARADIA: things that seem unimportant or even “wrong” can end up being essential components of whats meant to happen ARADIA: and who even decides whats wrong in the first place? DAVEBOT: i dunno megido thats borderline blasphemous

This is pretty obviously about Candyland, especially since Dave just shit on his pre-Ultimate Candy self as being a different person from a "lame" timeline, and "How much does it matter if something is canon or not?" is the question HS2 is allegedly about in the first place. But also I kind of like this nerdy time shit philosophizing even without the thematic subtext. The Homestuck EU has mostly been "Trolls! Aren't they neat!" and Ultimate Selves, but the Classpects haven't really been talked about much for a long Time.

Dave also refers to "Skaia's alpha timeline" in this conversation, but it's never been fully clear to what extent Skaia was pulling the strings. The "alpha" timeline was just the one with no paradoxes, and it was Lord English, not Skaia, who was making it so restrictive.

ARADIA: whats the right way for a butterfly to flap its wings? DAVEBOT: the way that doesnt make me gay

Dave...you are gay. You've been gay since Homestuck proper. It was a big part of why your marriage to Jade fell apart. Ultimate Dave is comprised of all Daves, and since Dave quit time-traveling before figuring out his sexuality, he seems to have regressed somewhat.

Dave was always scared of creating Dead Daves. "Dead Daves are the enemy", and it's why he doesn't time travel any more, and Aradia here seems to be arguing that this is limiting him, that he can't grow and explore without breaking some rules and dooming some timelines. This is, of course, Thematic™. You can't go in an interesting new direction if you're too worried about sticking to what the story's "supposed" to be about.

DAVEBOT: also now feels like a good time to mention that despite my omnitemporal awareness of everything that has and ever will happen to me i actually have no idea where the fuck youre proposing to take me ARADIA: oh word ARADIA: fun huh? DAVEBOT: being real i kind of hate it ARADIA: woohoo! DAVEBOT: youre such a freak DAVEBOT: TONE INDICATOR: AFFECTIONATE

ARADIA: cmon you shithead

This is such a fun pairing.

Hm. Calliope gets back up right as Aradia and Davebot's feeling jam is getting somewhere and makes them stop. Hmmm...

Good update. Aradia is my favorite troll and this was Good Aradia Content. I am increasingly convinced that she is not a Handmaid to Calliope, despite the cult outfit. Also rather interested in what's up with the Double Alt Calliope thing, but I imagine that'll get a follow-up at some point.

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2

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writingplotbunnies · 2 months

Text

Best Served Cold (Part 4/?)

Pairing: Jax Teller x OFC

Summary: Jax surprises Sophie at the station, and they have an intense lunch where they learn a bit more about each other.

Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: angst, illegal activity, possessive behavior, sexual content, canon typical violence

A/N: This is my first SOA fic, so let me know what you think. This is a multipart fic, so let me know if you want added to the taglist.

The week had been quiet. So of course, Friday became a whirlwind of activity. Much to her delight, Sophie watched Agent Stahl stomp around the office with a permanent frown on her face. David seemed just as harried but figured most of it was because of all the ATF agents still taking up space in his station. She’d gathered that AFT wanted to find evidence to get SAMCRO on a RICO charge, something about gunrunning and the IRA.

“Look,” Stahl snapped as she paused in the hallway, “I don’t have time for this right now. I have to drive out to Stockton and release a guilty man because someone leaked information about the witness we had. And now that witness is probably dead.”

“You don’t have to be the one out there to release Bobby,” David told her. “No one would blame you if you didn’t want to go back there right away.”

Stahl scoffed. “I’m not afraid of the Sons of Anarchy, unlike everyone around here seems to be, and I’m going to see each and every one of the bastards pay.”

Sophie didn’t even bother to pretend she wasn’t watching them. Maybe she’d start keeping popcorn in her desk drawer for moments just like this. She hadn’t noticed it during their first interaction, but as the days had progressed, she’d seen the signs of healing on Stahl’s face, and knew whatever had happened must have hurt like a bitch. Getting her face messed up like that might be enough to make the case personal for Stahl. Sophie kinda figured a promotion hinged on the results of this case. Or a commendation.

As though just now realizing she’d become the main event, Stahl huffed out a breath, placed her hands on her hips, and shook her head a bit. Then, as though nothing had happened, she rolled her shoulders back, shook her hair back into place and continued down the hallway - of course, she managed to pause by Sophie’s desk long enough to offer a glare. Sophie grinned and offered a little wave in return. If one was going to be a petty bitch, own being a petty bitch.

At the door, Stahl nearly ran into Jax who happened to be coming in. They eyed each other with an intensity that had Sophie reaching slowly for the sidearm she wasn’t supposed to have on her. After a few seconds of posturing, Jax turned away and strode towards where Sophie sat at her desk. He leaned his hip against the desk and smiled at her with his whole face.

Sophie glanced over his shoulder and saw Stahl lingering in the doorway, her eyes narrowed on them. Sophie returned Jax’s smile.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan,” Sophie said, nodding her head in Stahl’s direction.

Quickly, Jax glanced over his shoulder before shrugging. “I’m all about customer service.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

They both laughed, and Sophie fought down the blush she knew would make an appearance anytime now.

“She seemed in a hurry,” Jax said.

Sophie nodded. “Yeah, she’s headed out to Stockton. Apparently, she’s gotta release someone named Bobby, and she’s not happy about it.”

Jax smiled. “He’s a Son. They had him on bullshit charges. He shoulda been out weeks ago. That’s actually why I stopped by.”

“You came by to tell me about bullshit charges against a man I’ve never met?” Sophie asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Jax laughed. “Nah, I came to see if you wanted to come by the clubhouse tonight. We’re having a party for Bobby - celebrate his return.”

“Yeah? I haven’t been to a party in a while, sounds like a good time.”

“Good.”

Sophie laughed a bit. “You really drive all the way out here just to ask me out, Jax?”

He tucked some hair behind his ear and leaned in closer to her. “If I did?”

“Those blue eyes of yours get you just about any damn thing you want, don’t they?”

Jax shrugged. “They do what they can.”

Allowing herself to get lost in Jax’s eyes, Sophie weighed the benefits of her next move. Even before showing up at the station in the middle of the day to invite her to a party, she knew Jax was interested in her. An interest she shared. But mid-operation connections would only complicate things. She wanted him. Wanted to see what it would be like to belong to someone - to experience what Olivia had enjoyed with Drifter. She didn’t know if Jax wanted that with her, with anyone. Maybe he had someone. Too little information.

“What are you after here, Jax?”

He leaned back, and she nearly regretted asking the question. It wasn’t exactly fair because she didn’t know that she’d be able to answer the question if he’d asked it. But it hung there in the space between them.

Jax slid from the desk and held his hand out to her. “Come on. Let’s go for a ride.”

Sophie glanced around the office. She held up a finger to Jax, hoping he’d wait before scurrying down the hallway. Poking her head into Unser’s office, she knocked on the doorjam.

“What can I do for you, hun?”

Seemed everyone in Charming used pet names instead of real names. She’d work on being annoyed by it later.

“I’m gonna take my lunch away from my desk today.”

“Make sure you know what you’re doing there.”

Sophie nodded. She didn’t have a damn clue what she was doing there. Didn’t think Jax knew what he was doing either.

“Yeah.”

It sounded as unconvincing to her as it probably did to him, but other than a vaguely disappointed look, he didn’t say anything further.

Plastering a smile on her face, Sophie sauntered down the hallway, and if she put a bit more sway in her hips, well, the pleased look on Jax’s face told her he enjoyed the show. His gaze was hot as he tracked her progress. She licked her lips. Something about whatever this pull towards Jax was felt easy - and that’s what made her hesitate. That easyness made her question everything because nothing in her experience had led her to believe that easy was possible. Easy was often a lie. Slipping her phone into her pocket, Sophie came to stand in front of Jax. She enjoyed the idea that all she needed to do was lean forward to press a kiss to his chin. Being tall had a lot of benefits, but she still enjoyed being around a man who made her feel safe, who engulfed her. With Jax, it wasn’t just the size - he only had a couple of inches on her, but he had that extra something that just drew her in - made it feel easy.

“Ready?”

Unable to trust her voice, Sophie nodded. Jax gave her one of those dazzling smiles of his before gently pressing his palm to her shoulder and escorting her from the station. As they approached his bike, his hand slid down around the side of her body and before she could think to move out of his grip, he’d felt the edge of her sidearm. Moving quickly, she tried to take a step back, but her hand locked around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You gonna explain that?”

Sophie avoided his eyes. “A girl can never be too safe.”

“Inside a police station?”

She glared at him. “Thought you were gonna take me for a ride?”

“This ain’t finished.”

Sophie nodded. Jax held her gaze for a beat longer before passing her the helmet. Swinging her leg around and settling behind him, she silently cursed herself. She knew he’d have questions, and it wasn’t exactly as though she had secrets. But she didn’t want him getting involved. Didn’t need him to be a man about things and decide he needed to start fixing her problems. Zobelle had hurt her family, and that made him her target, not SAMCRO’s.

She settled in, arms wrapped around him and let her thoughts scatter to the wind. They drove for about ten minutes before Jax pulled off the main road. Just ahead of them was a small lake, and no buildings as far as she could see. When Jax had the kickstand set, she slid from behind and offered him the helmet. Without waiting for him, she walked towards the water’s edge and stood staring across it. She’d always loved water, found it peaceful. Even rainstorms made her happy. The heat of Jax’s body alerted her to his presence. He didn’t say anything, just stood at her back.

“The gun’s not a big deal,” Sophie began, hating the words even as she spoke them. “I didn’t want to talk about it outside the station because I’m not legally allowed to carry inside the station, but my legal CCW is on file with Charming PD, so they know I own at least one weapon.”

Jax turned her around to face him. Slowly, he reached to the hem of her shirt and pulled it up enough to reveal her unregistered .9mm Smith and Weston. He whistled through his teeth.

“That’s a lot of gun for a not a big deal.”

“It’s hardly a Desert Eagle, Jax.”

Instead of allowing the joke to ease the tension, Jax tilted his head forward, eyes soft as he tucked Sophie’s hair behind her ear. His hand lingered against her neck, thumb moving soothingly along the sensitive skin.

“Whatever it is, Sophie, you can trust me.”

If she thought the nicknames made her stomach flutter, it was nothing compared to hearing him say her name. It was like a benediction on his lips. And she did trust him. Blame the pull she felt to him, blame her need to trust someone because the person she had once trusted with everything had been killed - stolen from her. Going through that again, that loss would kill her. Sophie knew that, but as she met Jax’s gaze she realized it was too late.

“I wasn’t lying. To me the gun isn’t a big deal. Like I told Hale - ”

Jax jerked back as though she’d slapped him. “Hale knows?”

She smirked at the jealousy in Jax’s tone, brought her hand up to cup his cheek. “He had to process the CCW. The gun it’s like slipping on a pair of shoes before I leave the house. I’ve been carrying one for so long I only notice when I don’t have one on me. Like that KA-BAR you keep strapped to your belt.”

Jax blinked. She doubted he’d expected her to notice.

Sophie dropped her hand. She pulled the gun from her holster, held flat in the palms of her hands. “This? It’s not the one they issued me, but it gets the job done.”

She watched Jax’s face, saw the confusion cloud his features.

“Staff Sargent Sophie Cooper, USMC, retired.”

Jax chuckled, shook his head a bit in what she thought might be surprised disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Did my dime then figured it was time for a new adventure.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Sophie stepped back, crossed her arms against her chest and looked out over the water. “I missed a lot being gone. I spent most of my time deployed to all the garden spots. Lost a lot of time - ”

Choking on the words, Sophie covered her face with her hands. Thinking about all the time she could have spent with Olivia made her nearly blindingly angry. They both thought they’d have more time. Not that her sister had ever expected her to settle down, not back then. Jax’s hands cupped her shoulders, his lips ghosted a kiss across the crown of her head.

“I wanted to see the world, and I did. Never had been interested in settling down; that was always Livvy’s dream. And for a while, she had it. Met a guy, fell in love, got married. I’m sure they would have made me an auntie before too long, but they never got the chance.”

She took a shuddering breath, and tried to move away from Jax. He didn’t let her. Instead, he turned her to face him. Sophie didn’t know when the tears had begun, but Jax gently wiped them from her eyes.

“She was killed. Murdered, and it was awful, Jax. Still gives me nightmares, and even when I wake up I see her.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head into his neck and held her tight while she cried. Her hands gripped his kutte, while her tears stained his chest. Gentle fingers slid through her hair as he whispered soothing nonsense to her. It was easy to fall into his arms, to let him support her, support the weight of everything she kept to herself. Drifter and the guys had tried, but they’d been dealing with their own grief, with their own problems. She was sure Jax had his own demons riding him, but she let him hold her, let him be the support she hadn’t realized she needed.

“I was overseas when I got the call. Managed to get stateside within twenty-four hours, but it wasn’t fucking fast enough. The only thing I could do was her hand when she died. You see it in the movies all the time, watch people close the eyes. Never understood it. Not like I hadn’t seen a corpse before, but it was my sister. It was Livvy laying there with her eyes open, staring at me and I couldn’t take it. I’d never felt so guilty. So helpless.” Sophie forced a deep breath thorugh a sob that lodged in her throat.

“I’ve seen people beat to hell, but my sister’s face? It was a mess of deep cuts and bruises, all covered in more gauze than skin. Connected to tubes and wires and monitors. The beeping. Incessant beeping. Nearly got arrested for destruction of property when I shoved the cart monitoring her vitals into the wall so hard it left a dent.”

Jax huffed a gentle chuckle against her skin as he tilted her head up to face him. “I can picture that. Probably scared the nurse.”

She laughed. “I hope so.”

When Jax pressed his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss she’d ever felt, she should have seen it coming. Maybe she should have stopped it. Maybe she should have felt Jax was taking advantage of her emotionally compromised state. Instead, she returned his kiss, wrapped her arms around him and poured the sorrow and the anger she always felt into his mouth. It would always be there, living just under her skin. But, as Jax deepened the kiss, tangled his fingers in her hair, she allowed herself to feel nothing but pleasure. The way her toes tingled from the way he held her, the taste of him - tobacco and mint - on her tongue.

Sucking in a breath, Sophie tilted her head back. Jax gave her no quarter as his lips attached to her neck, nibbling then biting along her tendon. His hands swept down the center of her back before gripping her ass and squeezing, forcing her core to rub against the growing hardness in his pants.

“Jesus,” she panted.

“Jax, darlin’.”

With a laugh, she swatted his ass teasingly. Liking the way it felt beneath her hand, she did her own groping, enjoyed the low moan he released against her neck. It was too fast. She didn’t go from flirting, to crying her eyes out about her dead sister, to making out in the middle of nowhere with a guy she’d known for less than a week. There was too little foundation for the intensity of what she felt.

“What is it, Soph?”

She blinked up at Jax, who while flushed, looked at her with concern. Huffing a frustrated sigh, she broke from his arms, and this time, he let her. She moved around in a small circle.

“It’s all in the wrong order.”

“What?”

“This - ” she gestured between the two of them. “I don’t do this. Not like this, and I don’t want to make too many assumptions, but your not the first biker I’ve been around. I know how easy it is for you to get pussy, and we’ve made no promises because that would be fucking stupid at this point - but, what I’m feeling for you is more than I thought. More than I expected. God, I sound like a fucking Hallmark movie. I’m not a romantic by nature. I don’t believe in love at first sight because that’s stupid and totally impractical. But, Jax, I want to lose myself in you. And that scares me. It scares me so much.”

Jax didn’t respond right away. He lit a cigarette, offered her one. Hand trembling a bit, she took it from him, allowed him to light hers. She wanted to shove the words back into her mouth. It didn’t have to mean anything. Her and Jax. It could have just been a good time for both of them. Now? Now she’d put emotions to it. Allowed the moment to get away from her.

Shaking her head, she started to walk away.

“Hey.”

Jax’s voice whispered against her skin as he halted her progress with a hand on her arm. She trembled, unable to identity exactly what she felt.

“I don’t know what this is. The girl I thought was the goddamned love of my life left after I cleaned up her fucking mess. My junkie ex-wife OD’d in the hospital after my son nearly died during birth. My life’s a mess. I don’t believe in fate, don’t know what I believe in right now, but you? It’s something real. First real thing I’ve felt in a long time. You ain’t the only one scared, darlin’.”

“We make quite a pair, don’t we, Teller?”

He pulled her into his arms, pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Her hands came to rest on his chest. Easy.

“Yeah, we do.”

They remained quiet as they rode back into Charming. Jax dropped her back at the station after they swung by Lumpy’s for some burgers to go. Like a gentleman, he walked her back to her desk. Like an outlaw biker, he gave her a kiss she’d be thinking about for the rest of the day before sauntering to the door.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Sophie managed to call out, her breathing not quite back to normal.

“Later, darlin’.”

Part 5

Master List

#jax teller #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #fanfiction #soa fanfiction

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crazyk-imagine · 2 months

Text

Call All You Want

Pairing: Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe (Henry "Wolfman" Ruth) x Fem!reader

Characters: Fem!reader, Carole Bradshaw, Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood, Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Ron "Slider" Kerner, Charles "Chipper" Piper, Marcus "Sundown" Williams, Sam "Merlin" Wells, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Baby Wolfman (Howler)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, slight club au, the reader and Leo have a fight, this started off as a different idea but I don't hate this, the gang is at the club, Mav and Goose chaos, Goose making fun of Ice and Slider, Ice and Ron being a slightly less chaotic duo, the other guys being club boys, slight crack behavior, Chipper is a cage dancer lol, Ice talks like he's had experience before with dancers, mentions of pregnancy, I cannot get enough of this man, I love writing for him so effing much, Wolfman fics cure depression, in my mind it's canon Wolfman's kids are nicknamed howler

Word Count: 4,671

A/N: Was this inspired by the iconic song Telephone that I hadn't listened to since I was a kid and came up with this idea? Maybe

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

Hello, hello, baby You called, I can't hear a thing I have got no service In the club, you see, see

You’re barely two minutes into the club when your phone starts buzzing (again). You take your phone out of your pocket, “hello?”

“-ey want to talk with y- but-”

“I can’t hear you, Leonard. We just got here. I don't think there's any service here. Can you hear me?” You hold a finger to your ear with your free hand to try and listen to him better.

“Break- ing up wi- you…”

You don't hear anything else after that.

Wha-wha-what did you say? Oh, you're breaking up on me Sorry, I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy

“You- you’re breaking up with me?”

“N- over the- phone.”

“Yeah, I heard you loud and clear earlier today and now.” You scoff, “don’t call me anymore tonight.” You hang up on him and head over towards the girls, who are waiting for you at the bar. “I am done dealing with idiots for the night. Have we ordered yet?”

Carole glances over at Charlotte with a concerned expression, the latter looking back at her with raised brows.

“What happened?” The former asks.

“I thought we could talk when I got home but I guess not.”

“Why?” Charlie chimes in.

K-kinda busy K-kinda busy Sorry, I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy

You shrug, “don’t really know what happened and don’t want to talk about it besides we’re here to enjoy our girls’ night.”

After waiting for Sarah to finish her big drink order, she makes way for you three. "Ladies, what are we having?"

It shouldn't have taken as long as it did but with her having to work and train a new bartender, it took a while before you got your drinks.

The lieutenant grabs the drinks while your longtime friend pulls you towards a free table.

You roll your eyes and shove your phone further into your pocket.

"Is he still calling?" Carole asks.

You stare at her with pursed lips, taking a sip of your drink. "Of course, he is. What else does this man have to do other than bother me and try to make things right? I'd appreciate it more if I wasn't annoyed."

Just a second It's my favorite song they're gonna play And I cannot text you with A drink in my hand, eh You shoulda made some plans with me

Charlotte takes her seat beside the blonde, setting the drinks down. “I miss anything while trailing behind you two?"

"He's still calling," she says with a bored tone.

"You haven't blocked him?"

"Why would I?" You look at her over your glass with furrowed brows.

"Because he's an idiot, who tried to pick a fight over something stupid, I'm sure and you deserve to enjoy yourself without him calling."

Carole shrugs, "I mean, she could do that, or she can come with me," she grabs your hand, "to the dance floor."

You stop her, "I don't know."

"Just let go for a little bit," Charlotte adds, helping the other girl try and pull you onto the dance floor.

"But-"

"Nope," they shake their heads and haul you onto the floor.

You knew that I was free And now you won't stop calling me I'm kinda busy Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna think any more

You sneak away from the two, checking your phone. You sigh, debating on answering him or leaving him on read.

“Don’t respond to his text,” Carole tells you, glancing over your shoulder. “We’re busy, like you said we can enjoy the night.”

You turn to her, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I know, honey.”

“Take me away or let me lose my mind forever?”

She chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “That’s my line and I only use with my Goose.”

You playfully groan, “don’t talk about your sex life with me.”

“I never do, you just assume.”

“And you have to stop lightly implying what you and your hubby do.”

“But your facial expressions are my favorite thing, and they make my day.”

“The moon is out.”

She rolls her eyes, “okay, they make my nights too.”

I left my head and heart on the dance floor Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna talk anymore I got my head and my heart on the dance floor Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Charlotte breaks away from the dance floor, standing in front of you two. “Okay, ladies. Are we going to keep talking or dance so we can forget about our troubles?”

“I like the second option,” the blonde says.

“Great, we’re doing this.” She turns around and spots a familiar face along with a few others. “Jesus,” she mumbles to herself. “You two go to the dance floor while I,” she shakes her cup, rattling the ice in the empty glass. “Get a refill.”

Carole notices the expression on her face and the way her eyes linger at the door. She turns and sees the guys walking into the club. She mentally face palms at the sight of her goofy husband waving his hand around like a mad man. “Come on, it’s time to dance.” She pulls you away before you can see anything or anyone that could ruin your mood.

You were barely able to take a sip of your drink before being hauled off. You don’t know what to do with this whole thing.

Is it considered a fight? You don’t know.

You’ve never known Leonard to act this way before.

He loves the guys; they’ve become his family so the little teasing comments shouldn’t have made him as upset as they did.

When it first happened, you didn’t know what to think; his attitude at the Top Gun barbecue was normal.

You close your eyes and wave your arms in the air (making you feel like the popular/ party girl in the movies), letting your annoyance escape you. It takes a lot for his anger to get the best of him.

Stop telephonin' me Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh I'm busy, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Stop telephonin' me

The comments weren’t even that bad, the more you think about it; if anything, they were more endearing for Leonard but- you still don’t understand why he lost his composure today.

You lower your hands onto your head, trying to figure out what could have happened. You know it didn't happen in the morning because he was happy since he was going to be practicing in the air and that always made him happy no matter what.

Breakfast was good, you sent him off with a kiss as usual and he got to use the phone which was shocking since he normally can't because the other guys get to it before him.

The call was good, you could hear Rick asking him about you and trying to steal the phone from him.

Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Call all you want, but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone Out in the club, and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

Pete stops in front of Charlie first. "How's my favorite girl?"

She raises a brow and purses her lip, "you tell me. Your number one hasn't come by yet so you'll have to wait until then."

He chuckles and places a hand over his chest. "You wound me, honey."

"It's a gift." She takes a step forward. "Do you want to tell me why all of you are when you know we were trying to have a girl’s night?"

A nervous chuckle escapes him as he scratches the back of his head. "You see I was trying to stop," he gulps. "Wolf- Wolfman but he got past us, and we had to follow him."

"Is that all?"

He nods, "pretty sure, yeah. Goose?"

"Huh?" The mustached man lowers his head to try and hear better over the music.

"We followed Wolf because he got past us, right?"

"Oh, yeah. He just-" he lightly claps his hand and extends his arm and whistles, "went right past us and here we are."

"And that has nothing to do with the other guys here?"

They glance over their shoulders.

"Ice is here for his girl. Slider is looking for company, if you know what I mean," Nick explains, raising his brows to emphasize his innuendo.

She sighs, "when don't I?"

He merely smiles at her comment. "Merlin wanted to tag along and- uh- other guys weren't busy."

She looks around for the man of the hour.

Call all you want, but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone Out in the club, and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

"Where is he?"

Now the two are confused.

"He's not here?" Pete asks.

"He was just behind us," Nick adds.

They turn to one another. "Wasn't he behind you?"

"No. I thought he was with you."

"No, see, Mav. You've got it wrong. I came in first, like we discussed then you were supposed to come in with Wolf and make it seem like we met here by accident."

Charlotte tilts her head, crossing her arms. "And you two said it was a coincidence that you all were here."

"Dammit, Mav. You got us caught!" He smacks his arm.

"I got us caught? I'm not the one who just exposed us and our plan."

"Fine, fine." The mustached man rolls his eyes, "we're both to blame."

"I don't think so."

"Are these two idiots giving you a hard time?" Tom asks her.

She smiles and shakes her head, "unfortunately no but maybe you two can answer why you're all here?"

Tom and Ron glance at each other.

"Moral support and to get him a date," the man with frosted tips informs her.

"I told you I could get my own date."

"You've been doing jack with the way you complain about being single."

Those two-start arguing alongside the other duo leaving Charlotte with a growing headache. "Why do I ask?"

Boy, the way you blowin' up my phone Won't make me leave no faster Put my coat on faster Leave my girls no faster I shoulda left my phone at home

You don't feel the buzzing of your phone, too into your thoughts.

Was today anything special? No, if it was, you'd both have it on your calendars because you know you both aren’t the best with dates.

Could it have been an important Top Gun thing you needed to do and forgot about? No.

Everything that could go wrong or has gone wrong before has been crossed off your mental list.

'Cause this is a disaster Callin' like a collector Sorry, I cannot answer Not that I don't like you I'm just at a party

He taps Carole's shoulder. "Can I talk to her?"

She avoids his gaze. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Wolf."

"I just- I want to talk to her. This place sucks with service so I couldn't tell her over the phone. Please," he pulls out his puppy dog eye expression, knowing whenever he uses it on anyone, they cave.

She sighs. "Am I going to regret this?"

He immediately shakes his head. "No, this is going to be good for us. I'm- I got this."

"If, and only if, you're sure."

"I am."

She smiles and pats his shoulder. "Go, get her stud."

He chuckles, making sure she makes it to her husband (who's distracting the other blonde with ease).

You still can't figure it out for the life of you, but you do know that you want to stomp on your phone and break it. You open your eyes and grab your phone. "What?" You growl. "You've been ringing me off the hook since we left. I told you we'll talk when I get home- why is there music coming from your line?"

"Turn around."

"What?"

And I am sick and tired Of my phone ringin' Sometimes I feel like I live in Grand Central Station Tonight I'm not takin' no calls

You spin around and find him standing just a few feet from you. You hang up and place it back into your pocket, walking closer towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk."

"You wanted to talk?"

He takes a step towards you. "Can we please talk about this elsewhere?"

"I don't want to talk to you after you kept endlessly blowing up my phone and then-" You stop when he pulls you away from the dance floor. "Hey. I wasn't done."

He stops when you two stops at your table, it's the only spot in the place that isn't jam packed with other people. "I know you weren't, but I want to be able to hear you when you scream at me and scrunch that nose of yours because you can't avoid me."

You cross your arms, rolling your eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I want to talk."

"Did you think maybe I didn't?"

"The service here sucks so how could I tell what you did or didn't want to do?"

"You think my ignoring you was for fun?"

He shrugs, "honestly, I think the both of us haven't been our usual selves today."

"You're one to talk."

"Can we- can we please not do this?"

"Do what?" You uncross your arms. "I'm acting perfectly fine."

"I don't want this to become a fight."

"It's a little too late since this is where we are, just a few steps away from fighting?"

He straightens his posture. "I'm trying to fix what I started. I don't- I don't like it when we fight."

"Neither do I but it's really hard when one of you doesn't think it's worth talking about."

"It's not that."

'Cause I'll be dancin' 'Cause I'll be dancin' 'Cause I'll be dancin' Tonight I'm not takin' no calls 'Cause I'll be dancin'

You reach forward and grab his hand. "Then what is it because I can't change anything if you don't talk to me."

He doesn't say anything else as his shoulders hunch over.

"This is why I made plans because you're not willing to talk." You remove your hand from his. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'll be going back onto the dance floor so one of us can clear their heads."

You start walking away, not sure if you should be listening to him breathing with how much he has been acting like an ass today. You don't want to waste your time with something he clearly doesn't want to talk about even though he acts like it.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards the table. "Okay, okay. I'll- I'll tell you. It's just- it's a lot."

"You don't have to unpack it all now, you can tell me some or however much you want to but know I won't tell anyone because I don't need to share your business with anyone else. You know that which is why you've been pissing me off today."

He chuckles. "It' just," he sighs. "Today- today is an anniversary."

"Ours? Is it really?" You pull out your phone. "I thought we were better than that. We usually coordinate and-"

He grabs your phone, "you're right. It's not, it's one of mine."

You tilt your head. "One of yours?"

Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna think any more I left my head and my heart on the dance floor Stop callin', stop callin' I don't wanna talk any more I left my head and my heart on the dance floor

"What do you think they're talking about?" Nick leans back, asking his friend.

"I don't know. Maybe he's finally admitting why he's been off today," Pete told him.

"I mean, that'd be great, right? We wouldn't have to tiptoe around them and everything that's been going on."

Charlotte rolls her eyes, "would the two of you rather dance with each other than us?"

They push themselves off the other and return their attention to their partners.

"Where'd Ice and Slider go?" Nick asks his wife, looking around the room for their fellow crew mates.

"Maybe Ice got a girl for Slider?" His wife adds.

"You think those chumps managed to get a woman, like an actual woman and not the ones in their heads, to talk to them?" Nick stares at his wife like she's crazy.

"I do and you know they're not that bad."

"They may not be but they're not that nice either."

"It doesn't help that you and Mav pick on them."

"I'm sorry," he pushes her away slightly, keeping his hands on her hips. "Are you my wife or theirs because I'm not feeling very loved right now."

She smiles and steps closer, keeping her hands wrapped around his shoulders. "You know I'm yours, baby."

"Are you now?" He smirks.

She pecks his lips, "show me the way home or lose me forever, you punk."

He chuckles and resumes dancing with her while pulling her off the dance floor.

Sam, Rick, and Marcus sit in a corner enjoying their drinks while watching everyone mingle with their spouse and/ or significant other.

“Has anyone seen Chip since we got here?” Sam asks.

Rick shrugs, “not really, kind of lost him in the crowd as soon as we got in.”

“What's a cage dancer supposed to look like?”

The two turn to Marcus with confusion evident on their faces.

“What?” Sam starts.

“Where'd that come from?” Rick adds.

“I think Chip is up there,” he points to the cage on the second floor.

“Jesus,” Rick mutters. “How do you persuade a cage dancer out of a cage?”

They look at one another.

“I don't think any of us know the answer to that,” the blond adds.

“Should we try to get him down?” Marcus asks out loud.

“Leave him, he'll get out when he's ready,” Tom says, patting Rick's shoulder.

“It's always the quiet ones,” Ron mutters.

They all shake their heads, watching as one of their own has the time of his life.

Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Stop telephonin' me Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

"The comments shouldn’t have bothered me, you know. I thought I was past this."

You furrow your brows. "Past what?"

"It's stupid."

You stand beside him, rubbing his upper back in a soothing manner. "It's not stupid if it's something that's bothering you."

He grabs your free hand that was resting on his shoulder, for support. "It's my parents’ anniversary."

"Oh."

He doesn't like talking about his family so this is all new for you and him.

"I don't talk about them because," he sighs. "My pops never treated my ma right and she never left him even though she should have. And there were people who used to say the same thing Mav and Goose were joking about, which wasn't that big of a deal but when I saw what day it was. I kind of-"

"Flipped out?"

He chuckles. "I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you call it?"

He sighs before turning to face you and pulling you into his grasp. "Okay, maybe I did but it's only because you mean so much to me and I don't want us to end up like them. I don't want to end up like him, you know."

"We won't, you know why?"

I'm busy, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Stop telephonin' me Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

He shakes his head.

"Because we're better. Yes, your parents didn't have the best relationship and your mother probably should have gotten out of that situation sooner but she didn't and hopefully got to live a long life where she got to see her kids grow up and get married or meet someone smart enough to keep their boyfriend at a distance."

He smirks, brushing his thumb on the back of your hand, against your knuckles. "Hey, now."

"I'm just saying."

"You can say all you want, and it won't change a thing, you know why?"

"Why?" He leans in, as if he's whispering a secret. "One way or another I'm getting a ring on that finger."

You avoid his gaze when he pulls back.

"You're looking a little flushed," he teases. "Do we need to step outside and get some air?"

You playfully shove him away, "no. I want to go back on the dance floor so I can get away from you."

He smiles, pulling you back into him. “You can't escape me, sweetheart."

You step towards him, standing toe to toe, "doesn't mean I can't try."

"You can try but it won't do you any good."

"I'm still going to try." You stomp your foot, knowing full well he's going to be right on your tail (exactly where you want him).

Can call all you want but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

Tom glances over his shoulder when Sarah gestures to the dance floor where you and Leonard are, along with the (two) idiots and their girls.

Ron passes him, giving his buddy an ecstatic smile as he drags some poor girl with him.

"Jesus, where do you find them?" He mutters to himself.

She smiles and leans forward, "I told you things were going to get interesting when we left for the barbecue today."

"Yeah, yeah." He turns back to her. "What's a navy man got to do to get a free drink around here?" He playfully flirts with his girlfriend.

She rolls her eyes, "still gotta pay, pilot."

He groans, "are you sure? I think I can be pretty persuasive if I need to."

"Not today."

He sighs, pulling out his wallet, "if I must."

She smiles at him, letting the other bartender working with her take care of the other customers until she's done talking to him.

There's no better customer than her boyfriend.

Call all you want but there's no one home And you're not gonna reach my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

You stand beside the girls and start dancing less out of control than you did when you first got to the dance floor.

The girls’ glance at one another and smile, happy to see the two of you talk and make up (like adults and stopped avoiding the other [more you than him]).

Pete turns to him with a raised brow while Nick stares at him with a hopeful expression and both brows raised, doing a thumb up thumbs down gesture.

Leonard smiles and shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"I'm glad you two finally figured your shit out."

You give the mustached man a sarcastic smile, "as sweet as ever, aren't you, Nick? How did Carole ever get so lucky?"

He smiles back, kissing the top of his wife's head. "I don't know, she's just- she chose the best of the best, I guess."

"I'm pretty sure that's what you say about your partner and Ice but, okay."

He scoffs, "why are you ruining a good moment?"

"How am I ruining it?"

"With your-" He waves his hand in front of your face.

You stick your tongue out at him and lean further into Leonard's arms.

He bends down, "do you want to go back and sit down?"

You shake your head and smile at him, "nope. I'm perfectly fine where I am."

My telephone M-m-my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

You three went to the bathroom to fix yourselves (adding a little extra lipstick… to leave marks) and went to the restroom before leaving. "It wasn't stupid."

They both glance at you in the mirror and ask, "what?"

"It wasn't stupid like you thought," you tell Charlotte. "It was something serious for him and I think tonight was good for us." You can’t fight the smile that sneaks its way onto your lips. “I think it made us closer than before.”

Carole smiles, “good, maybe it’s a good thing the guys snuck him in then.”

After that night you guys were better than before because you got to learn something else about him and learned more about how he got to become the man you see today, and that's something you wouldn't ever trade for.

Maybe other than-

My telephone M-m-my telephone 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bub And you're not gonna reach my telephone

You stare at the ring on your finger.

"He's lucky, you know."

You turn to your longtime friend. "Who?"

She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. "You know who, you weirdo."

You suck in air through your teeth to exaggerate. "I don't know, Care. This little guy here seems lucky," you rub your protruding six-month pregnant belly. You lean as forward as you can, mumbling under your breath. "Lucky to stomp on my bladder and make his poor mother need to pee every five minutes."

"It's been at least ten minutes, a new record," she jokes, her laughter dying down when you don't join in. "At least he'll be home in a few."

"Not soon enough, I need his soothing hands."

"Oh, gross," she shrieks.

"Oh, don't be like that, you know what I mean and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. I swear he gives the best foot rubs, I've never had better and you're one to talk, missy. You always kindly refer to your sexual escapades with your hubby."

"I do not!"

The door opens and you two don't stop.

"Do too."

"Do not! I'm hurt, very hurt that you would even imply such a thing."

"I feel like I shouldn't have come in."

You turn to your fiancé and smile at him. "Don't feel like that. Now, come here. I swear I haven't seen you today."

He bends down and pecks your lips. "You just want me to give you a foot massage.”

You scoff, "how dare you." You sniffle, cover your eyes.

"Sweetheart, honey, I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You didn't! This spawn of yours did."

"I'm gonna go," she whispers to him.

He nods and waves at her till she gets to the door. "How about I give my special girl a nice, long foot rub and we watch some of our favorites?" He rests his head on the arm of the couch. "Do you like that idea?"

You wipe your under eye and nod, glancing down at him, wondering how you ever got so lucky to find a guy like him.

"I'm the lucky one." He pecks your temple and starts grabbing stuff for your relaxing night.

"How did you know?"

"I'm psychic."

You narrow your eyes to him.

"I'd be a bad fiancé if I didn't know what you wanted."

Before you fall asleep, you swear you hear him whispering to the baby.

"-nd I told her I'd get a ring on her finger one way or another. You had nothing to do with it but that was some pretty funny timing, little howler."

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For my fellow Wolfman lover <33 @callmemana @kmc1989 @blueoorchid

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