#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

#writeblr #warm up #my dad was actively doing bad shit to us and we STILL were told we were lucky . and to a point i do think im lucky #i just think also there's somethin to be said about like. how about we stop using comparison to dismiss ppls individual struggles #yes there are people who have no perspective. for the reference tho having perspective actually made me really unwilling to get help #for what was a serious and debilitating mental health issue. bc i thought i didnt DESERVE IT #and i would rather have 600 ppl who aren't THAT bad get help and get heard and get seen #than make any 1 kid. do the math that i did: look at the world that is dying and the people who are hurting and say #''oh. okay. others have it worse. they are probably better people than i am. i am being unreasonable. i cannot ask for help #i am not good. i am taking too much space. i am not worth saving.'' #bc our WHOLE lives we are taught a scarcity mindset - that you can 'steal' from someone. so that instead of changing a system that doesn't #actually offer fair support to everyone #we put the impetus on the individual to just... demand less. #and here's something - there are probably ppl who think i DIDNT deserve to get help #bc i DID have it better than other people #and something about that is ... so sickening. bc i think all of us in some way at some point WILL need help. #we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn #instead we said: it could be worse. now handle it yourself

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 4.8k words

fic masterlist previous part pt four next part

violence + mentions of blood and injuries (this is quite visual ha); angry + kinda ‘blood lust’ miguel; someone gets electrocuted, reader kinda does (small amount—I’ll be honest I don’t know how getting electrocuted exactly works, so for the purpose of the story ignore if the way it happens isn’t realistic, thank you!) — when you’re left alone in the tech room, many spiders out on missions, something unexpected happens. when miguel finds out his face falls and his claws twitch in anger. after the incident, you find miguel walking down the hall, calling to him he asks you questions, and you offer your help with something.

It was silent. For what felt like too long. Besides the tap of your fingers on the keyboard—which had begun to slow.

Usually you’d hear distant conversations or the sound of web shooting, but instead only silence greeted you. Unease began to make your body turn, your chair spinning with you.

You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid. You were alone in the office. Which wasn’t anything strange, but it meant that your growing paranoia festered a little stronger.

You edged closer to the door, finally hearing what sounds to be rumbling. Low and too vague for you to decipher. Your hand reaches out to the door handle, but just as your fingers brush the smooth metal, you’re forced back.

Your body flies, coming to a bruising hit on your hip, making you hiss in pain. But you’re quick to get up, rushing to a clear wall, and away from the explosion. You breathe heavy as you slump against it, your ears slightly ringing, while your gaze stays blurry against the random scraps of metal and dust.

You look to the communal intercom, quickly rushing towards it. Someone or something that isn’t supposed to be here is. You have to warn the spider-people who are out on missions.

But where are the others?

Just as you reach the com, the sound of quick scuffling boots can be heard to your left. You snatch up the intercom, slipping under your desk, tucking your feet into the dark just as multiple pairs of unwelcome boots come into view.

Your shrink further into yourself. You couldn’t speak in warning to the spider variants or these guys would hear you. Your eyes narrow on the bottom of their legs. All black, but so far appearing humanised rather then some large monster. An anomaly?—you think to yourself—multiple?

You clutch the intercom mic tighter, your finger grazing the on button. And that’s when they begin to speak.

“Get the tech.” A gruff voice says. “Now! We can’t waste our time!”

You can hear more scuffling of boots as the sound of unplugging, or more so ripping follows.

“Boss, they’ll be back.” One of them said. You try to get a good look at them, but your movements will cause too much attention, so you grind your teeth and listen harder.

“If you pick up that damn monitor we might have a chance to get out quick enough.” What you assume to be the gruff voice of ‘boss’ says.

“Who even made you in charge?” One grumbles out.

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Not all of them, though.” One adds. You try again to peak out. You manage to scale the bodies of three, all in black, with…masks. Damn it. They looked worn out—handmade.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.” Boss agitatedly says.

And as if luck is still on your back-burner, your foot slips, only a fraction, but enough to knock a piece of stray metal across the floor.

“What was that?” One of the masked men asks.

The silence now following sounds threatening. You place your hand over your mouth, to quieten your breathing, as the scuffs of boots draws closer.

;;

“Ben!” Exclaimed Miguel, just as static breaks through his ear. He hisses, not expecting it, as he holds the earpiece, brows furrowed. Then the static grows clearer.

“Get the tech. Now! We can’t waste our time!”

“Boss, they’ll be back.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as he listens, confused at first. When he looks to the other spider-people they’re are all holding their own earpieces, trying to comprehend what they’re listening to.

“Who even made you in charge?”

“Who’s idea was it to lure those stupid spiders out on some fake mission, that, might I add, required a decent bunch of those freaks?”

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asks. She appears by him, tapping away at screens.

“It appears to be coming from a communal intercom.” She says.

“At HQ?” He asks, already flexing his claws. “Which one.”

“I’m just finding out. The connection is muffled.” More tapping.

“Well, lucky for us the remainders are all too busy in the lobby. Now hurry up and pack the bags.”

The voices still infiltrate Miguel’s ear. “Lyla.” He sounds impatient. “Which one?”

Then she stops tapping. “Y/n y/l/n’s.”

Miguel freezes, looking at Lyla as if she would be one to crack a joke. Then he hears the knock of something metal through his ear piece, followed by a ‘“What was that?”’. He can now hear your heavy breathes, slightly muffled, as heavy boots hit the floor.

Then all sound is gone.

He doesn’t wait for anyone, pressing his wristband to open the portal to HQ. But Jess stops him. “Miguel, think about this. What if it’s them?”

Miguel glances at her, shrugging her grip off his arm, as he taps at his wristband again, the portal opening up. His expression is downcast, one could easily say terrifying.

“Miguel! You have to think this through.” Jess persists. “We have spider-men and woman back at HQ—”

“Who are clearly too distracted to do anything.” Miguel grunts out, webbing towards the portal. But Ben intercepts this time.

“She’s right, Miguel. Don’t worry about the tech, we can get it back, or even get new ones—“

“The tech?” Miguel actually sounds in disbelief. “You think I’m fucking worried about the tech?!” His red eyes gleam, and Ben gulps.

“Then what are you worried about, Miguel?” Jess asks, exasperated. “Because I don’t see anything else that needs urgent attention. The tech is the main—“

“¿Tú no? The tech is the last of my worries, Jess.” Miguel interrupts. But this time he isn’t yelling. This time it’s toned down, and somehow that makes him appear much, much scarier.

“Miguel.” Jess tries to calm him down, not understanding what he could find more worrying. Data had been saved on that tech, important data. She places one hand on his wrist, but he immediately shrugs her off, glaring.

“Get out of my way.” He snarls. She doesn’t move, crossing her arms. “The reason why you aren’t hurt against that wall is because you earned my respect. That’s slipping, Jess.”

“Miguel you’re frantic.” She says.

“Call it what you want. I’m getting to HQ.” He webs past her, and Jess finally has the mind to let him go. Though she still stands there worried, and confused about what could have made Miguel so urgent to get to the scene.

;;

You tighten your hold on the intercom, now switching to use it as a possible weapon, as the boots near. You prepare yourself by silent deep breaths and a focused gaze.

The boots stop in front of you, pausing for only a moment. Then the desk is being flung to the side. You choke a gasp, managing to slam the intercom down into the guys shin, the harsh metal side bruising and buckling his leg.

He exclaims in pain as you scramble to your feet. You can finally see the detail on the three mens’ outfits. A dark green weaved into the fabric. Then you see the claws for hands, and all three of their masks turned to you. Shit.

“Who are you guys?” You manage to get out, as you reach behind you for a keyboard.

One looks at the other before looking back at you. “Were you here the whole time?”

You say nothing, edging closer to the exit. It’s silent from them for a moment then “…kill her.” The gruff voice of ‘boss’ says. And they’re quick.

You try to rush away but one yanks you back by your hair. You angrily swing around and knock the metal keyboard across one of their heads. Some of the pieces shatter against his mask.

But then one is grabbing your neck, pushing you against the wall. “Sorry—boss says no tattle tales.” The guy tightens his hold, and your hands scramble against his in an effort to intake air.

There’s a moment where your vision blurs. But there’s also a moment where his knee shifts letting your leg harshly kick out. You’re glad to find him humanised in his pants as he doubles over.

You rush away from the wall, heaving. One of the masked men is already trying to grab you and as his clawed hand wraps around your arm, he’s pulled back, a shining orange web yanking him straight into a monitor, his head smashing against glass.

The speed makes his claws cut across your flesh but your adrenaline is far too prominent for you to care. You notice the other guy stalking towards you, making you swiftly gaze around at your environment, Weapon. Weapon. Weapon. You stop on a machine, wires poking out, sparking with electricity. Holding a certain point you pull two out, ripping the electric wires, before stabbing them into his stomach, the electric current making his body shake and twitch.

You soon have to let go as they grow unbearably hot, leaving scolding burns on your fingertips and palms. That’s when you notice the owner of the orange web. Miguel has ruined the guy he originally threw into a monitor, his body now a bloody pulp.

You have to quickly look away to the second guy who had obviously gotten up from your kick and landed straight into Miguel’s palm. Miguel is retracting his claws from the masked man’s body, blood tainting the tips of his fingers, as he breaths harshly but somehow still controlled.

Miguel looks to the guy knocked out in front of you, still occasionally twitching from the strong current of electricity. You feel light headed, placing your hands on your knees as you try to slow your breathing.

But then you feel a hand. And not a friendly one as the masked man passes on some of the electricity moving through his body into your thigh. You scream, the half electrocuted guy—his hair frizzed and slightly cinched—stumbling to a stance, just as you fall to the floor.

Then you hear a crash and a curdling scream—not from you.

Miguel inserts his claws into the guys neck, practically ripping his throat out, as the guy chokes on his own blood. The blood sprays across Miguel’s face, leaving slight speckles as he rips the rest of the man with his teeth, letting him drop to the floor.

It was animalistic in way, as his tongue licked his fangs, his breathing now harsher—angrier.

But then he sees you drifting from consciousness on the floor.

Miguel doesn’t know what breathing is, or the meaning of the word slow, as he reaches your side in a millisecond, his hand coming to grab your face between his fingers—maybe a little harshly but his entire being was still on overdrive.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks as he slightly shakes your head. “Y/l/n.” He hisses. “Wake up.“

He’s gentle now, realising that you’re a human and not some villain he needs to hurt, as he checks your pulse not wanting his claws to cut you. “Y/n!” He finally exclaims, as you get roused awake.

Your leg feels painfully numb, as your eyes flutter open. A thin layer of tears is making your eyes sparkle as you finally meet Miguel’s gaze. You try to slow your breathing, shutting your eyes to reassess.

Miguel tightens his hold on your cheeks. “No, no. Open them.”

You do, though they stay hooded. “I’m just…tired. No need to sound so harsh—shit.” The lasting electricity still spasms up your leg, as the hold of Miguel’s hand makes the tears fall.

You begin to shake your head, partially trying to get out of his hold. “Stop.” You say.

“Stop what?” Miguel instantly replies, his gaze shooting to your thigh.

“Just—“ you breathe. Then Miguel finds the deep scratch mark on your arm, his hand grabbing it as his eyes dart. “It’s fine. Just a cut.”

“Y/n, you just got attacked. You’re a weak human, don’t try to sound so tough.”

“You’re not helping.” You hiss, tilting your head back as you try to keep the tears in, not wanting them to fall. “And that was kind of mean.” You mutter the last part just for the sake of it. Using your pain induced state as an excuse to blurt out your annoyed feelings with Miguel.

Miguel grabs your chin, trying to pull your gaze back to his, but you resist, keeping it tilted away. “Stop.” You say again.

“No.” He answers, successfully pulling your chin back, and holding it there. “Why aren’t you looking me?”

Your eyes are darting around, before you choose to close them. “Y/n.” Miguel is stern, but underlying that he sounds almost desperate—almost.

You can feel him move closer to you and you place your hand out to stop him, your palm ending up against his chest. “Can you not—“

“What—not help you?” He asks harshly.

“Can you look away.” You say, finally opening your eyes. “Please.”

“Why?” Miguel isn’t budging, staying close to you. He’s already dialled in medical on his wristwatch.

“Jeezus Christ, Miguel! I don’t like fucking crying in front of people. It’s a weird thing I can’t get rid of. I hate it. It makes me feel embarrassed—“

“Embarrassed?” Miguel interrupts.

“Yes. Embarrassed.” You hiss harshly. You couldn’t find your filter, your tone far more aggressive then usual with the throbbing pain in your arm and the spasm of your thigh.

“Well, that stupid.” He says.

“Yeah, it is. But it’s not going away. So if you could just look away and let me…I dunno…recompose myself.”

“Recompose yourself?”

“Yes! Stop repeating what I’m saying!” You exclaim, only to follow with a groan of pain as you try to sit up.

Miguel knows your mind is frazzled and your body is reactive. He pushes you back down, grabbing your cheeks again.

“You got partially electrocuted and cut—deep, I’d think you’re a psychopath If you didn’t cry.” Miguel says, his volume dropped to one almost soothing—almost.

“Doesn’t make me hate it any less.” You mutter.

“Wow…I’ve never seen you this annoyed before.”

You narrow your eyes on him. His hand that was gingerly inspecting your thigh had slipped over your waist, partially caging you in.

You try again to sit up. But Miguel yet again, keeps you pressed to the floor. “O’hara.”

He leans closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “Stop moving.”

“I’m fine.”

“No your not.” He easily answers, which earns him a half hearted scoff. “You know I think I prefer you trying to suck up instead.”

You meet his gaze glaring. “I have not been sucking up, I just like—“

“This job. Yeah I’ve heard you.” He interrupts.

He can hear commotion behind him, but the voices of rushing spider-people makes his shoulders relax. The medical have arrived, and as you notice the new people you quickly wipe your cheeks, brushing against Miguel’s hand, as you get up.

Miguel finally let’s you, by slipping his arm around the back of your waist. You try to swat it away—any physical touch usually induces the waterworks you desperately wanted to keep at bay—but he tightens his hold, resulting in your side being flush against him.

The medical spiders inspect your bruised body. “It’s her thigh and upper arm…” Miguel begins telling the spiders. Then he grabs your hands holding your palms out. “And hands.” The burnt marks look raw, and you hiss as Miguel had to slightly stretch the skin to show.

He immediately lets go upon hearing the sound of pain. “Thanks Miguel, we’ll take it from here.” A medical spider says, already at your side checking your cut.

Miguel narrows his eyes on the spider variant, watching as you bite your lip as they inspect your wound. He sighs, finally getting up and letting your waist go. At the sudden shift your hand flies out to his leg, or more specifically his thigh.

Your quick, tight grip has Miguel stopping. You change your position, not having realised how much you were using Miguel as physical support, before you’re quickly taking your hand away and coughing.

You give him a brief nod. “Thanks for the help.”

Miguel scoffs. “Help? I did a bit more than help.”

You’re praying to get some anaesthetic soon so that your pain won’t make you loose your job. You press your lips together harshly. “Of course. You did spectacular.” You say.

The sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He eyes you once more before he’s walking out the exit.

You sat there, finally taking a proper breath. You don’t know why you were holding it for so long. …maybe you did have a clue. The image of Miguel ripping the guys neck out, blood staining his face is still fresh in your mind.

You’ll be honest, it scared you. He kind of scared you. But not in way you’d think he’d hurt you, just one that made him seem unpredictable. I mean what happened just then, with his touching and softer tone was something completely unforeseen.

If someone told you he would be do that today you’d actually laugh. Miguel was unpredictable and intimidating in general, sure, but what seemed to scare you more was the way he looked when his eyes shone with blood lust. His eye colour seemed fitting now.

You also happened to be scared of the way the sight made you feel. Something that settled far too low in your stomach.

;;

Miguel went straight to the lobby where a spider variant he kept high up in the ranks resided. “You. Get up. Now.”

The spider variant immediately stood, as he nervously followed Miguel to his office. The orange tech screens were the main thing lighting the place.

And as Spider-Man took a breath he lost it as soon as Miguel slowly turned to him. Blood still stained his skin and claws and suit, and the spider-man felt the urge to run.

“Where were you today?” Miguel asked, leaning back against a table and crossing his arms almost too casually.

“I was…here, Miguel.” He said steeling his spine. He knew where this was going.

“Were you?” Miguel asked, his eyes trained on the spider.

Spider man gulped. “I’m really sorry, Miguel. I didn’t hear any sort of explosion. I didn’t get any awareness. Which…shouldn’t happen.”

“You know what ‘shouldn’t happen’?” Miguel asks, now twirling an empty glass on the table. “Spider men and woman shouldn’t only rely on that “tingle thing”.”

The spider hangs his head lower in apology. “Someone could have died today.” Miguel continued. “And you would have what—been too busy playing poker?”

The spider variant winces at his words. Miguel knew of his addiction, always using his free time to gamble.

“Do you get that?” Miguel asks.

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“Sadly that’s not gonna cut it.” Miguel says, making spider man look up. “I left you in charge while I was gone. You failed miserably.”

“Miguel. I didn’t mean to only rely on my usual awareness, it’s a force of habit. That’s never happened before. I can always sense when danger is close.”

“But you didn’t.” Miguel says. “There’s someone in medical right now who got injured—badly. And she was all alone.” Miguel has stood up, stalking towards him.

“Now for personal reasons I may find her annoying.” He quickly mutters out. “But that certainly doesn’t mean you can let her die. Do you hear me?”

Spider man quickly nods. “Of course. This’ll never happen again.”

“No it won’t.” Miguel turns away, and the finality in his voice makes spider man’s eyes widen.

“Miguel—“

“Go home.” Miguel cuts in, stepping up to his screens. Anger still seeped from every pore.

;;

You woke up, feeling a dull ache in your body, but for the most part you felt alright. Better, a lot better. You swing your feet off the medical bed, realising that the lights were out.

Your feet hit the cold floor, before you quietly step towards the exit door.

Making it out to the hallway you were grateful you were already on the high level, no need for a long travel up the stairs.

You needed to rest. Alone. Not surrounded my medical items. You slowly headed to your room, but stop upon seeing a familiar body walking away.

“O’hara.” You say, making the figure freeze.

You quicken your steps, reaching him. He turns and you have to stop the intake of breathe at the reminded visual of the now dried blood.

“You didn’t want a shower?” You joked, forcing a chuckle.

Miguel just scans your body, narrowing his eyes, his expression is it’s typical, solemn and moody. “You should get back to bed.”

“I was actually heading to my room. But I just wanted to…thank you.” You say, finally making Miguel meet your gaze.

“You really did help me back there.” You spare him a small smile and a nod. Then your gaze gets caught back up in the blood stains, as you gulp.

“You saw, didn’t you?” Miguel suddenly asks.

You look up. “Mm?”

“The reason I’m covered in blood.”

“Oh.” You say. “It was…quite impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” Miguel says making your brows furrow. He steps a fraction closer. “You didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

Another step. “You thought I looked animalistic. Scary.”

You dart your gaze down to his slowly moving feet before quickly looking back up. You shake your head. And in return Miguel nods.

“You think I’m scary.” Everything he’s saying is statements. He knows, but you keep shaking your head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.” He says, much, much closer now. “You’re terrible at it.”

You stop the shake of your head, blinking a few times. “O’hara—“

“Just be honest.”

“I am.” You say, straightening your spine. And as your eyes dart you notice a deep cut running across his thigh. The dried blood, his.

You step closer. “Why didn’t you get that checked out?”

He glances down at his wound. “It’s fine.”

“Oh come on, don’t do that. Don’t act like your above it all, including pain, and infection.” Your blatancy makes Miguel raise a brow.

You pause for a moment, mulling over potential decisions in your head. Then before it could get later and before you could back down you speak. “Follow me. Let me help.”

Miguel stares at you. “It’s fine—“ he goes to monotonously repeat.

You just grab his wrist, pulling him towards your room. Miguel grabs your wrist in turn, preparing to pull your hand off.

“Hey. You made me go to your room, now I’m just returning the favour.” You say.

Miguel stares at you, scoffing. You let go of his wrist, knowing you don’t have the strength to pull him. “If you’re scared I don’t know what I’m doing, then know that I studied to be a nurse before I found out about…all this.”

“Why?” Miguel asks. “Why help?” He elaborates.

“I just told you.” You say, beginning to head to your room. “I feel weird if I’ve seen your room when you haven’t yet seen mine.”

“That’s not a good reason at all.”

“But your walking my way aren’t you?”

Miguel hadn’t realised that he’d moved to your door without the permission of his mind. He curses under his breath as your scent floods his senses, your room making it ten times worse. This is the last thing he needed.

But you’re already shutting the door and ushering him further in. “You can um…” you look around. “You can just sit on the bed.”

No—Miguel thought. God, no. But you were already getting out an older looking kit from under textbooks—your stuff having been brought to you from your universe.

He slowly sits, trying not to get one bit comfortable. You reach his side placing the kit on the bed, as you drop to your knees.

Miguel’s breathing stops at the visual. You’re directly by his thigh…kneeling. No, no.

Miguel clicks his jaw, looking away. He looks back down, to see your hand is midway from touching his cut thigh. “Why are you doing this?” He can’t fathom why you would actually want to help him.

You sigh. “I just feel kinda bad.”

“Bad?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“For any particular reason?” Miguel pushes.

“No.” You sarcastically scoff. “You’re just generally a person everyone feels bad for.”

Miguel narrows his eyes as you chuckle. He shifts on your bed. “Stop doing that.”

Your hand stops by his cut, thinking it’s the touching of his wound, when in actual fact it was the way your ‘chuckle’ had sent a strange vibration through him to somewhere he desperately didn’t want you to notice. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

Then you’re touching him. Delicate and gentle, as you pull away his ripped suit. You begin to dab what looks to be an alcohol cloth onto his wound, and in response Miguel snarls, his grip tightening around your sheets.

“Sorry.” You mutter.

“Dios.” He mutters, closing his eyes a moment. “Stop being nice.”

You look up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never heard someone say that. Usually it’s ‘stop being mean’.”

His face is tight as you continue to clean his cut. “Someone said that to you?”

You pause. “No actually. But I just mean in general. And I’m not being ‘nice’ to you. I’m returning a favour.”

“Ah.” He hums, before all his muscles tense. “Can you hurry up.”

“You’ve never let anyone touch you up before, have you?” Catching onto the fact that he’s clearly cleaned his past wounds himself.

Miguel glares at you. “So, you can stop.” He reaches to take the cloth from you, but you lean away resting your hand on his knee for support.

“You can just sit on the bed.” Miguel grits out. He couldn’t watch you being on your knees for him any longer. Not unless he’d do something he’d end up regretting.

“That’s okay, it’s an easier angle here.”

God. You had to stop. ‘Easier angel’? Yeah, Miguel definitely wasn’t thinking about you cleaning his cut. He runs his hand through his hair.

You quickly reach out grabbing his wrist. He looks at you, expectantly. “You have uh…blood on your fingertips…claws.”

Miguel darts his gaze across your face. “And you’re worried about it getting my…hair dirty?”

You shrug. “Well, now you’re making me sound stupid.”

“I don’t need to do that.” He quips, and you shoot him a glare. “But um…” he drifts off, as you look up at him, now waiting expectantly.

“Did you find me…scary, or whatever?” He asks, and surprisingly there’s a hint of…vulnerability hidden in his tone? No—you think to yourself—that can’t be right. “Before. With the anomalies.”

You dab a fraction harder, making Miguel hiss a groan. You ignore the way it vibrates through your body. You shake your head.

“Why do you keep lying?” He asks.

You sigh. “I just—“

“Just?” Miguel seemed to really want to get an answer out of you. He shifts closer. And when you don’t answer, continuing to focus on his wound, he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to meet his gaze. You gulp, his large hand nearly reaching to wrap around your neck.

“Do I scare you?”

Your chest picks up a quicker beat. He leans closer, pulling you towards him, your chest hitting his leg. “Do I—“

“Yes. Alright.” You quickly say. “A little bit…yes.”

His grip tightens around your chin a fraction. “Because of what you saw?”

“And the way you talk to people.” You mutter out. Why were saying this? This isn’t something you say to your boss.

You hadn’t noticed at first but one of his claws had begun to brush back and forth against the skin of your jaw, his eyes not leaving yours. You were utterly frozen. And there’s a moment that you just catch where his gaze darts down to your lips, his breath feeling extremely close.

But then he’s leaning away, his jaw clenching as he looks to the door. “Are you done?”

You quickly look down to his cut, rushing to get out a bandage. “Uh, almost.” Your entire body was buzzing.

While you stayed focused on finishing him up, Miguel’s gaze went back to staring at you. He almost gave in—almost. He wouldn’t, though.

You were scared of him. He knew you were somewhat so, but now hearing you say it confirmed that you’d never see him how he had gradually started seeing you. He had to stop. Now, before he dove in far too deep.

He couldn’t let himself go any deeper. Because at this rate he’d certainly drown, and if he was going to die, it wouldn’t be from some silly little crush.

okay, I’m sorry, I lied. there is nothing sexual in here. but I didn’t think adding anything like that yet would work. since a lot of you guys asked for a slow burn

again, I hope this is up to a good standard for you guys to continue reading. I wanted to add something a little different then the usual Spanish lesson then Miguel’s end of the deal. I needed some action of some sort.

and ofc, part five will come soon x love you all MWAH

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spider man #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #marvel

[rafeslittleangel]

One night only...right?

In which you and Natasha are on a mission and lose all communication from Shield, forcing you to stay at a motel.

Warnings: Smut, tribbing, fingering, edging, mommy kink, oral f receiving, slight mentions of injury

Words: 2.6k

18+ mdni

"All clear" 

Nat whispers, pressing the earpiece to hear your response. 

"They're heading your way, Romanoff. I see thermal signatures of three." You mumble, looking at the small screen attached to your sleeve. "Stay on comms. I'll come in when you need me to."

Natasha smirks, her eyes flitting to the entrance of the room, waiting for the incoming. Rubbing her lips together, almost hungrily, she mutters...

"I'd like to make you come in other ways sweetheart."

You blush furiously, so glad Natasha couldn't see you right now. Before you could even respond, you heard the voice of the one and only Nick Fury, who was sitting back at base, guiding you through the mission. Your mission was to take down agents from a small organization that had recently popped out of nowhere, following the Hydra framework and belief that SHIELD and the Avengers knew all too well. They were on a mission to recover important information from an old hydra facility. Your job was to get your hands on it first.

"Focus on the mission, Romanoff; you can go back to your y/n fantasies later."

Fury's voice rings in your ears, bringing you back to reality. 

"Oh, I'm sure she wasn't, uh, fantasizing about me. Just an offhand comment, right?" You whispered unsurely, laughing nervously.

"Oh angel, I was doing much more than just fantasizing."

Normally you would blush and laugh it off, completely oblivious (maybe a little aware) of Natasha's advances, but you saw a flickering movement on your screen that made you squint, zooming in on the building schematics.

"Nat on your right, you have incoming through entrance four. I count 2, one armed, one strapped."

You widened your eyes, making sure you were looking at the signatures properly.

"Strapped to a bomb vest, Natasha, do not engage!" You yelled into the mouthpiece frantically, sprinting towards the room she was in. You neared entrance four, kicking down the other guy while you gingerly approached the human bomb, threatening to blow at any second.

"Romanoff, we need to evacuate. Where are you!?" You utter desperately, watching as the bomb vest turns red hot and the man dressed in it grins maniacally.

"Right behind you," Natasha knocks out a man who had gone unnoticed and was right behind you, peering at his figure on the ground. You hadn't even realized that someone was behind, let alone someone who was probably planning to blow you up. Natasha wraps her arm around your waist urgently, looking at the live bomb.

"Run"

You both sped across the hallways, her protective hold on your body tightening with every turn. You didn't slow down as you ran out of the facility, not looking back once.

"GET DOWN!"

Natasha screamed, pushing you to the ground and covering your body with hers. You heard a loud reverberation that echoed for so long that it felt like hours.

A few more minutes passed before she let up. You rolled around on your back, looking up at her tiredly to see a shit-eating grin on her face.

"This is not how I imagined we'd be when we laid down together for the first time."

At this, you giggled, looking away. She offered you a hand, and you took it, your hair bouncing as you got up.

You reached to tap your earpiece, wanting to let Fury know you're both safe. You pressed it, only to hear static. You took it out and groaned to see that it was broken. You looked toward Natasha to see her having the same luck. The vibrations from the explosion and the frantic escape must have damaged it. You sighed and looked around.

"Where's our ride? Do we go back to base?"

Natasha looks at you guiltily. "Well..." You widen your eyes, shooting her a wary glance.

"Nat...."

"I was supposed to call for the quintjet through comms. We have no forms of communication left to call Fury."

"Wh-UGH what about the bike?"

She looks around, examining every nook and corner of the destroyed facility and the grounds around it. "It blew up". You groaned, looking away from her, dread filling your heart. You had never been stranded before. You were a young avenger, comparatively new one. You bit your lip and surveyed the ground underneath you.

Natasha looks at you sympathetically. "We can't go back y/n. This just got way more serious than it should be. We need that intel, whoever it's with. And we need to find out why they would blow up their own facility. What were they hiding in here?" She thought out loud. "We'll have to camp out here for a few. Even if we had a means of transportation or communication, we would have to stay to figure this out."

You nod reluctantly. Friend or not, Natasha was still your senior. You looked into the pitch black sky. "Where do we start?"

She lets out a laugh, looking you over. "I might be tough on you hon, but I'm not a monster. We're gonna get some rest, recuperate and prepare, starting with stitching that ugly cut up."

Natasha brings her hand to your cheek, a borderline concerned look on her face. You tensed up. You hadn't even realized you were hurt.

She gently traced the pad of her thumb below the lacerated skin, her eyebrows pinched together. You observe her face, which was practically glowing, even in the darkness of the night. She blinked, as if put out of a trance when she notices you staring. She withdraws her hand, almost hesitantly (you notice) and cleare her throat.

"Uh...l-let's go look for a motel to spend the night at huh?" You caught a glance of the faint blush that spread on her cheeks, right before she turned away, walking quickly. You stood there, dumbfounded.

Natasha fucking Romanoff was...nervous?

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Wait for me!" You rushed behind Natasha, who was practically speed walking by now.

_______________________________________________

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped up in a towel. You'd just gotten out of the shower, the gash on your cheek pulsing. You winced, letting out a few yelps of pain as you a attempted to put a measly bandaid on it. You hear three loud knocks an you jump, your knuckle hitting the cut.

"Fuck!" You screamed. Hearing the noise, Natasha barged in, gun in her hand.

"Are you okay?" She asked, eyes suddenly fixated on the towel hugging your body.

"I was until you knocked on the door, making me hit my cheek!" You huffed out, annoyed. Natasha chuckled and put her gun down.

"I just wanted to ask if you need help sweetheart. And apparently, you do.." She peered at the bandaid on your face. "You don't put bandaids on cuts like that sweetheart."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, then at Nat, suddenly feeling so stupid as you look down at the first aid kit in your hands.

"I-I didn't have anything else..."

Natasha smiles, caressing your side gently. "You'll need stitches princess." She takes out her own first aid kit, finding the sterilized needle and thread she kept.

"Will you get on the counter for me sweetheart?"

Natasha was taller than you, so it made sense for you to sit on the counter so that she could stitch you up more easily. You felt your cheeks get hot at her choice of words but get on the counter anyway, clutching your towel as it ridea up your legs.

She starts working on the cheek carefully and gently, inserting herself between your legs. You screw your eyes shut at the pain, needing something to hold on to as you grip her thigh, digging your nails into her flesh. She let out words of appreciation, hating to see you in pain.

"Almost done princess, just hang on..."

She whispers, doing the last stitch, finally cutting up the thread to look at you.

"All done sweetheart, you can open your eyes now."

You let go of a breath you didnt realize you were holding, as you turn to look in the mirror, inspecting your cheek. You look at Nat in the mirror, who was already looking at you. You felt your throat go dry as you looked into her eyes.

"T-thank you..." You stuttered out, looking back at her. She smiled and put the things back in the first aid kid, not moving away as her thigh rested dangerously close to your almost exposed pussy. You felt Natasha's gaze burn into you as she traced your inner thighs with her fingers.

"Can I kiss you?"

She whispered, lips inches away from yours. You nodded slowly, lost in her eyes. She didn't waste a second to crash her lips onto yours, hands funding your lower back. You let go of the towel loosely wrapping your torso, the fuzzy cloth dropping to reveal your body as you kept your hands on her neck to pull her closer.

Natasha stops, eyes relishing every nook and corner of your naked body as she looks you up and down.

"Sweetheart..." She whisper, completely entranced, bringing her thumb to stroke your soft nipple, playing with it until it becomes a small hard nub. A rush of euphoria hits you and you whimper, your hands finding her waist.

She looks up at your face and smiles, delighted to see your head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. She brings her mouth to your other nipple, licking and sucking it harshly, dragging a real, loud moan out of your throat.

Natasha pressed herself closer to your core, your legs involuntarily wrapping around her waist. She picks you up, carrying you out of the bathroom and to the medium-sized bed, which was the best that the run-down roadside motel you were at could offer. She gently placed you on the matress, looking at you hungrily as she spread your legs. She knelt down, her thumb reaching your clit, gauging you for a reaction. You bit your lip, whimpering and looking down at her as she pressed her thumb on the bundle of nerves, bringing her teeth down to graze the sensitive bud.

You were soaked by now, squirming and begging for some kind of friction as Natasha carelessly traced her fingers on the work of art between your legs.

"M-Mommy please!"

You whimpered out, bucking your hips towarda her fingers. All movement stopped as she looked up at you, a mocking pout on her lips.

"Please what sweetheart? Use your pretty words angel, can't get everything by begging and whining can you?"

You moaned, your hand reaching down to rub your clit. "Need you s-so bad." Natasha shoves your hand away from your clit, delivering a slap to your pussy. You cry out, your hole tightening around nothing.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" She asks, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

"Answer me." She brought her hand down on your pussy again, smirking as you hiss in pain.

"I-I'm sorry-" You mumble, closing your eyea and biring your lip. Natasha lights taps your cheek, gesturing for you to look at her.

"Sorry what?"

"I'm sorry m-mommy!" You choke out as Nat plays with your clit. She smiles and takes your pretty bud in between her lips, sucking on it while forcing your legs open, even as you struggle to close them from the sensations. You gasp when her tongue enters your wet hole, eagerly lapping up your juices.

You thrust your pelvis into her face, causing her to hold you down as she aggressively licks your pussy like it was her last meal. Your hands reach to her scalp, stroking and pulling her red hair as the knot in your abdomen threatens to unravel.

You moan with pleasure, eyes falling shut when you shudder, so wo close-

"Fuck!" You cry out, tortured swollen pussy pulsing as Nat looks up at you, your arousal dripping down her chin.

"No...no why'd you stop!?" You sniffle, tears in your eyes.

Natasha licks her lips, bringing her face down to kiss your neck, biting and sucking so hard it left a large purple mark. You gasped, nails digging into her hips.

"Well you haven't been the best girl for mommy... didn't think you deserved a release." She whispers, rolling both your nipples betwen her fingers. You shudder with pleasure running down your torso.

"I'll be better...I-I promise I'll be better...Please Na-mommy!" Your best, puppy dog, princess face was on, playing at Natasha's heartstrings but she was not that easy. She settled onto the bed, gesturing for you to come towards her.

"C'mere sweetheart..." She whispered, arms out as you crawled towards her. She takes off her shirt and jeans, left in a red lingerie that could make anyone salivate at the sight. She scooped you up, laying you down in front of her. She spread your legs, blowing air to your core, watching as more arousal leaks through your hole.

"Aw sweetheart... baby's eager isn't she?" She whiapered out, eyes fixated to your insanely wet swollen cunt. You nodded and whimpered, nails digging into the matress of the bed.

She teased you, slowly sliding in one finger as she looks at your pretty face, whines falling out of your mouth. She keeps the finger inside, unmoving, looking at your eyes shut at just one.

"My princess can take another can't she?"

You nod eagerly, thrusting your bottom further down the finger. Natasha puts her hand on your jaw, pressing harshly.

"Didn't I ask you to use your words sweetheart?" She whisper, threatening to pull out the first. You babble, trying to find your speech.

"Another one m-ma please..." You bite your lip, anxious for friction.

Nat joins her index finger with her middle finger, finally starting to move them, thrusting them into you. She curled her fingers inside, grazing the squelchy, spongy spot inside that made you moan and shut your eyes.

She was breathing heavily, touching herself over the thin material of the panties, seeing your little hole get so stretched by just two fingers. Without warning, she slid another one in, making you gasp and hold her wrist.

She slapped your hand away, thrusting her fingers harder, pulling down her own, soaked through underwear. She felt your pussy clench around her fingers and she withdrawed them completely, leaving you clenching around nothing. You cried out, having yet aanother orgasm ripped away from you. The desperation was short lasting however, as Natasha pulled you to her lap, thrusting her bud onto yours, placing your wet and slippery pussy on hers.

She moaned loudly, her grip on your ass tightening as she made you grind into her pussy. You squealed as she flipped you over, rolling her hips into yours, rubbing herself on you without a break. Squelching noises filled the room as your slick coated pussy caressed against hers, your orgasm threatening to burst for the third time that night.

"Come on princess, I know you're close, gonna cum for me huh? Gonne show me who made you feel this well?"

With that, you reached your climax, your pussy pouring out everything it had, Nat's hands supporting your convulsing body as she herself let go, feeling her orgasm. You blacked out for what it felt like was seconds, but when you woke up, you saw that Natasha had already cleaned you up, her shirt on your torso. She stroked your hair, sitting beside you.

She kissed your cheek, seeing you wake up and smiled. You rubbed your eyes.

"W-what happened?" You whispered, snuggling closer into her chest. She laughed and pulled you closer.

"You squirted sweetheart. What a pretty sight it was too..." She whispered, drawing patterns on your thighs.

"Go to sleep angel, you've had a long day."

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha smut #marvel mcu #marvel smut #nick fury #mcu smut #natasha marvel #Rose <3 speaks #natasha romanoff fluff #dom!natasha #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #black widow x you #black widow smut #black widow fluff #black widow fanfiction

[cameronspecial]

how about we go a lil angsty? the reader hadn’t yet told him about her being pregnant bcs she remembers Drew once said he doesnt know if he wants to be a dad and so she tried to bring the topic up with hypothetical questions and his answers not exactly the thing she wanted to hear so she went all silent and pulled herself away and stuff.

I dont wanna give it away, so please you decide the ending..either they communicate and Dad!Rafe rise or…

I Want This

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Abortions and Miscommunication

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Well… She doesn’t know what she expected the results to be, but this is definitely an answer. Y/N doesn’t even think she can focus on the opinion she has of this situation because all she can think about is Drew’s.

———

“Awww, Babe, look at this pic of Lils that Mac sent me,” he gushed, holding his phone up to his fiancée. She looked up from her laptop, “So cute. Ugh, I miss them so much. I mean look at those little baby rolls. I just want to cuddle the cutie.” He smiled and brought her head under the crook of his neck. “I know. We have to visit them soon. I’m so glad I have a niece. It means I can be the fun uncle forever and never have to be a dad,” he mindlessly thought out loud, going back to scrolling on his phone. This caused her to freeze; they never talked about having kids, but he was so good with them that she assumed he would want them. She should’ve asked him about it because she wanted them. She didn’t though. Kids were important to her and so was Drew. She wasn’t ready to cause a rift in their relationship because of something small. 

———

Staring at the positive pregnancy test, she has to figure out a way to gauge how he would feel about it before actually telling him the truth. Once she knows how he feels, it will help her decide how she wants to feel about it seeing that if they are on the opposite page, then she would have to make a difficult decision. She shoves the positive tests into the box and hides them in her makeup drawer. He never goes looking there. She exits the bathroom, lets out a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen to start getting lunch ready. Drew is coming home from filming in Morocco later today. The music blasting through the speakers makes her unaware of the new presence in the house. He smiles at the dancing silhouette cutting potatoes. His hand drops over her eyes and she sets the knife down with a grin. Her arms wrap around her neck to bring him down towards her. This allows her to pepper his face with kisses. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” she notices, turning the music off. His hand rests on her hip, “I was, but I was offered an early flight and I couldn’t say no to seeing my girl early. I missed you and I love you.” She sinks into his hold. “I missed and love you too.”

The couple spend the next half an hour cooking together before settling themselves at the dining room table. Since they talked to each other throughout cooking, silence falls over them. A chime comes from his phone and he checks it to see a text from his sister. “Mac is planning on coming down with Lils and my mom soon. They can stay in the guest room, right?” Drew confirms, reading over the text again. She nods, “Yeah, I’ll get it ready over the weekend and buy one of those travelling crib things for Lils. It is going to be fun to have a baby around the house. The guest room would make a nice baby room in the future. It has nice big windows and the closet is the perfect size.” The chuckle that comes out of his mouth drops her stomach into a furnace. 

“What’s so funny?” she questions. He shrugs, “Not the babysitting part. They could both use a break and I will never say no to spending time with my niece. It’s just the thought of having to turn the guest room into a baby room is funny.” 

“Oh, why?”

“I don’t know. It’s a guest room. I mean where would our family stay when they come over?” 

“Yeah, where would they stay?”

She should probably ask if he meant he can’t imagine the room as a baby room right now or if it was a forever thought; however, she is scared of the answer she is going to get so she shuts down the conversation. They sit in a new tension-filled silence that he pretends he can’t feel. 

———

After lunch, Y/N retreats to the backyard to swing in the hammock. This tells him that she needs some space and he knows she is upset when she is still outside at eleven p.m. The friction of the patio door sliding against each other makes her turn to him. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, waiting for him to say something. He places the plate of pasta he made for dinner onto the side table beside the hammock. “I found the pregnancy tests,” he states, bringing one of the patio chairs close to her. She freezes and sits up. Her legs swing over the fabric to face him, “How?” “Maddie helped me pick out clay pot Moroccan lipstick for you and I wanted to surprise you with it. I was going to hide it in your drawer…” he explains, eyes falling to his fingers and trailing off at the end. Her head moves up and down. Her thoughts are moving around her head a thousand miles a second. He is going to break up with her. He is going to make her have an abortion. Or worse. He is going to make her choose between the baby or him on the spot. 

He grows nervous when she doesn’t say anything and his suspicions are confirmed. He understands why she is unsure about talking to him about this. The way he has spoken about having a baby in the past could’ve given her the wrong idea. He hesitantly reaches to place a hand on hers and does it when she doesn’t shy away. “I want you to know that the decision about what we do with the baby is up to you and I will be at your side during the whole process,” he assures. Her confusion causes tears to crop up in her eyes, “You don’t want the baby though. I know that, so if you are going to break up with me because I do, then just do it. But making me have to choose is kinda cruel.” His heart squeezes, hating that his words aren’t coming out as he means them to be. His head shakes like crazy and he sits beside her. He brings her head against his chest, “Babe, I don’t want to break up with you. I want to have this baby with you too.”

“You want the baby? Then how come you don’t think the guest room would be a good baby room?”

“Because my office would be a better one. The windows aren’t too big so it won’t wake the baby up in the morning and the closet there is even bigger, so when they get older they can have as many clothes as their heart desires.”

“Okay, you are right… What about when you said you want to be an uncle forever and never be a dad?”

“Honestly, I never really thought I would want to be a dad. I was content with being an uncle, but, Babe, when I found that pregnancy test, all I could think about was how happy I was to be bringing a child into the world with the most amazing woman in the world and I couldn’t wait to raise them with you.”

She leans back and rests a warm palm on his cheeks, trying to hold back her tears. “So you want to have this baby?” she verifies. He kisses the tears away, “I want this, Babe. I promise. We are going to do this. Together.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

#dad!drew #dad!drew starkey #drew #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call Chapter 2 Part 3

The second of the posts compiling all my snippets from the ask game. I'll try and get another out later today, but it might be tomorrow for the rest.

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

Chapter 1: AO3, Tumblr

Chapter 2: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.3k

-----

“Five months ago, he disappeared. I’d already started college, so I wasn’t home. But Sam and Tucker reached out and the three of us began searching. It… It took three weeks to find him. And another week to get him out. In that time… What we found… It wasn’t pretty. The guys in white—” Jazz cut herself off. That day would forever be branded into her memory and featured in far too many nightmares.

Todd made an encouraging noise, but didn’t interrupt.

Jazz took a steadying breath and forced herself to continue. “It wasn’t easy breaking in. And even harder breaking out. Danny was hurt and the agents were chasing us. We had on masks, but they knew who we were. We managed to cause some chaos, though. Released all the ghosts they had prisoner to mess up their scanners. Send them running in every direction.

“It was almost enough. We all got out of the building. But they’d figured out our path and were waiting for us. Sam, Tucker, and I managed to hold them back. Sending Danny ahead alone with the go bag we’d prepared him. He was supposed to either get back to Amity and cross the portal into the Infinite Realms or run north to meet up with the other Dani.”

“But he didn’t make it,” said Todd. A statement rather than a question.

“We don’t know. He never made it to Dani. And due to the breakout, the guys in white placed the town on high alert. There’s checks for everyone entering or leaving the town. If you’re suspected of pro-ghost sentiment, you’ll be brought in for questioning. Ghost shields are everywhere. Sam’s parents withdrew her from school because they didn’t trust her to follow the new rules.” She gave a watery laugh. “They were probably right. Then Tucker was offered a scholarship for a tech school in California. I was escorted back to Boston. Only time I went back was for his funeral.”

Todd nodded. “And they’re in your phones and computers so you can’t talk to each other.”

Jazz smiled wryly. “Yep. Tucker could’ve, probably has, developed something. A messaging program or whatever. But without being able to meet up with us to download it to our devices—” she shrugged “—we’ve no way to get it.”

“Okay, so we’ll start there. Restoring contact should be fairly easy if you all want it—”

“We do!”

“But I’m also worried about your safety. What will happen to you after you ditched your guard today?”

Jazz shrugged. “They’ll bring me in for questioning. Probably make me miss a quiz or something important for school to make it extra inconvenient.”

“What will the questioning entail?”

Jazz bit her lip and shrugged. “Before? Sitting me in an uncomfortable metal chair in an interrogation room like you might see on TV and keeping me there for… oh, up to twenty-four hours? Whenever my parents would find out and barge in yelling at them about how ‘No Fenton would support a ghost!’ or whatever. Now? I don’t know.”

“Do you think they’ll hurt you?” asked Todd. He was frowning. “After your brother, it sounds like they are capable of it.”

Jazz held out her hands. “Depends on if they know I’m liminal or not. I’m not as bad as you are. And especially no where near Danny’s level. I don’t think they’ve been able to detect it yet. But if they have their instruments that close and me captive for that long? I… I don’t know.”

Todd nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. Look, they don’t know where we are right now and don’t have the means to find us at the moment. I can get you out of here. To a safe house in Gotham or Metropolis or, hell, anywhere you want. And we can reach out to Red Robin, see how things are going with your friend Tucker. Maybe extract him as well.”

Jazz’s mouth fell open. They could… get away? For good? To a Justice League level safe house? She burst into tears.

She might be able to see her friends again soon.

Todd moved so he was sitting next to her. Hesitantly, he put a hand on her shoulder. “So I take it you want to do that?”

Jazz nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

Jazz sniffed. “I just—It’ll make it easier to find Danny. If we’re together. If we have to go somewhere.” She shook her head. “God, I’m going to sound like such a bitch. I love Danny. If it’s what we have to do to get him back, yes. Absolutely. But… It’s just… My degree. If I disappear halfway through the year for who-knows-how-long? I’ve been working to get into Harvard since I was ten years old. Since long before Danny had his accident.” She scrubbed at her eyes. “God, I’m such a bitch. My brother needs me. And if I go back, I’ll probably be detained long enough it’ll impact my grades anyway. And that’s if the Guys in White don’t just lock me up indefinitely.”

“You’re not a bitch,” said Todd, voice filled with some emotion she couldn’t put a name to. “Like you said, this has been your dream for practically half your life. But I think we can help you with that.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “How?”

Todd grinned. “I doubt your school would be able to complain or hold it against you if I had Kori—Starfire—tell them that you were needed for an urgent Titans mission. That you helped save the lives of countless people. Way I see it, they’d have to forgive your abandoned classes and allow you to retake them.” He hummed and looked up. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we could find a Justice League fund to pay for at least one semester of classes for you. Probably more. To make up for the money lost on this one.”

Jazz’s mouth fell open. “You’d do that? For me?”

“And your brother and sister and friends. It’s kinda what we do.”

Jazz nodded. “Yes, please. If you can do that, I’ll go with zero hesitation. I’d have given it all up for Danny, of course. But we’d both… not regret it. But he’d feel guilty he forced me to give up my degree and I’d always be a little resentful I had to. Not towards him, never towards him, but the Guys in White and Vlad and my parents.”

“Great. I’m going to call Arsenal and Starfire. I need one of them to get my car anyway. Left it parked back near our meeting place and I don’t think we should be going back anywhere near there if we can avoid it.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll reach out to Red Robin, see what happened when he went to meet up with your friend Tucker out in San Francisco. See if they’re up for an extraction as well. If I gave you a phone, would you be able to reach out to Dani-with-an-I?” He grimaced. “Do you have any other way to differentiate them?”

Jazz chuckled wetly. “Nope. Dani-with-an-I refuses to change her name. Says it’s her name and she’s not going to change it just because someone else had it first. And Danny-with-a-y hates going by Daniel or Dan. When they’re together, they drive us crazy with it.”

Todd grumbled something under his breath. “Fine, whatever. Just, do you have a way to contact her?”

Jazz nodded. “We’ve been too scared to, but if you can get me something with an internet connection, I can contact her and have her meet us somewhere.”

“Easy. I’ll have Arsenal bring us something that you can have to yourself rather than relying on borrowing our phones or computers.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but thanks.”

Todd shrugged and stood. “I wasn’t going to just ignore you after seeing those messages. Now, try and get some sleep. It’ll be a few hours before my friends can get here.”

-----

And that brings us to the end of Chapter 2!

Hope you enjoy. We've got the beginnings of a plan set up.

Check out the subscription post if you want notifications when I update!

#dpxdc #anger management ship #jason todd #jazz fenton #jazz worrying about her college degree #is making jason remember how much he wanted to go to college #he wont let someone elses university aspirations #go up in smoke #thanks to cape life #he'll *make* bruce pay for her tuition #and that of her friends if they want it

[amywritesthings]

Love your fic love, it's the best one I've ever read. Could you do something from Levi pov when he started realising he liked Reader and he felt about that?

first of all, thank you for such lovely words! i'm so happy you like it. second of all, i can certainly write you a levi pov where he had his 'oh shit do i like her?' moment xo

all at once. / levi ackerman x f!reader

word count: 900 warnings: language, levi pov set in the silver underground universe

( read on ao3 here )

Furlan had a funny saying about the people he fell head over heels for.

It happens slowly, he once told Levi.

The two of them were sitting around their newly-bought two-bedroom apartment, comically vacant and egregiously filthy.

With his long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, Furlan chose to sink his palms into the dust to tattoo his fingerprints. 

To say he was there.

(I was here. I am here.)

Levi chose a more civilized position — sitting backwards on one of the only two chairs they had in this place, his sleeved forearms folded over each other on its curved back. He peered down at his friend with the utmost curiosity, head hung under a curtain of black fringe.

“The hell’s this question coming from?” Levi grunted as he shifted his shoe on the floor.

Fucking disgusting; he wasn’t going to sleep tonight if the entire apartment ended up being this damn dirty. 

“What do you mean?” Furlan asked. "Which topic?"

“The topic of this,” Levi clarified, “and why you’re so interested in who I may be looking at on the streets."

"What, we can't gossip?"

The way Levi's brow quirked said otherwise. Furlan sighed.

"We're roommates now."

"So?"

"So?"

"I don’t think I asked who you're interested in, Church.”

“No, you didn’t,” Furlan hummed happily with a dopey smile on his face. “But now that we have this place with two whole bedrooms to ourselves, we have the luxury of inviting people over. Think about it: two young and handsome bachelors, ready to take on the—”

“Wait, invite people over?” Levi interrupted, brow rising. “This isn’t a community house. It's headquarters.”

“No, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yeah! But like I said, think about it: now that we’re taking names and carving our own legacies down here, I’m sure plenty of people will think we’re great. Maybe we'll even get some kinda group of admirers for our efforts.”

“Doubtful.”

“Aw, c’mon, Levi,” Furlan pouted. “Don’t you like anyone? There’s that one guy with the tattoos over on second street.”

“No.”

“Or the dark-haired girl who always seems to give you a discount on soups.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Furlan blinked.

The black-haired boy felt his temper — and embarrassment — rising.

“Because I wouldn’t know what the fuck it feels like to like someone like… that.”

Levi grit the truth between his teeth, hating the honesty that came with this ridiculous conversation. 

The Underground City doesn't quite offer anything real. Down here love was transactional. There wasn't room for emotional error.

He saw what it did to his mother.

He saw how it molded whatever the fuck he’d call Kenny.

Bottom line was that feelings weren’t good.

And then there was Furlan, looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Well, when you realize there's something about someone, it's slow,” the ash-blonde boy suggested, nodding with encouragement. “From my understanding, liking a guy, girl, person, whatever — it happens slowly, then all at once.”

“How’s it slow?”

Furlan smiled, knocking his feet side to side against the wooden floorboards.

“Probably because the people you actually like are kinda in the background until they aren’t anymore.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Levi echoed. "You're supposed to be attracted to them first."

"That definitely helps, but that's like... lust or whatever," Furlan challenged. "I'm talking about liking someone. Wanting to hold hands or be with them so you can listen to them talk all the time and never get bored of what they're saying."

Levi scoffed, turning his chin sharply to the right as he considered.

Slow, then all at once.

Except it was never slow.

It would’ve been really fucking helpful if it had been.

You’d been ready to rip his throat open all those years ago.

No one had ever gotten the jump on him the way you had. No one would ever come close.

Maybe watching your fights after Kenny dropped him for reasons unsaid had been the slowest part about this. Watching your sweat-streaked face as you caught your breath in the midst of folding someone double your size like it was nothing. Listening to your voice in the alleyway when you spoke to that witch of a woman. Conjuring up an excuse to talk to you, to see if you even remembered—

It’d been all at once from the very beginning.

Someone as fleeting as a ghost had haunted his once dreamless sleep.

Hell, you still did.

“Sounds like you got someone in mind.”

His gray eyes darted back to Furlan, instantly on the defensive.

The other boy sported a goofy smirk. Levi scowled.

He could tell him.

He could ask if the way his throat closed up whenever he so much as considered uttering her name was a sign that he was head over heels.

That sometimes it wasn’t slow, but as fast as a blow to the damn head.

That sometimes liking a stranger felt more powerful than anything he'd ever known.

“Nah,” Levi lied, surging from his seat to stand at full height. “Only thing I’m interested in is cleaning this piece of shit up. I’m not sleeping on cobwebs tonight, so get up, grab a broom, and help.”

James.

Maybe one day he’d face it; liking someone.

Really, genuinely, devastatingly wanting someone.

But he couldn’t afford it.

(Maybe one day.)

#attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk fic #aot fanfic #aot fic #levi ackerman fanfic #silver underground #aot drabbles

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie's palms were sweating like crazy. There used to be moments when he was gratetul for this less obvious sign of nervousness, but at times like this it was bloody inconvenient. The chalk dust clung to his fingertips as he worked on his summoning circle under the archmage's watchful eye, an eye that was waiting for a single mistake that would warrant another disqualification. A third one in the last three years.

It was all bullshit as his best friends Nancy and Chrissy had told him. They both were younger and had the same skill. Sure, Nancy's intellect was through the roof and Chrissy studied with a rigid motivation of someone who wanted to leave their stifling family behind, but Eddie wasn't bad at all. Hell, he grasped the intricacies of magic almost naturally and in another world, he would have been praised, supported by all his peers and professors.

Yeah, right. That would be a world where he wasn't a filthy commoner.

Sure, magic didn't choose blood or status or a full set of silver cutlery in one's mouth, but oh did the upper class love to pretend. "We have magic in our bloodline," they lied through their teeth. And so when a kid of a petty thief showed magic potential surpassing the one of their coddled kids, they were aghast. They scoffed at his long unruly hair, at his cheap dark clothes, at the extra shifts his uncle had to take to keep him in the academy. They tried to get rid of him so many times, unfair test questions, discriminatory behavior, bullying...Eddie saw it all and guess what, he didn't care. As his wise uncle told him "they see you as a cockroach, boy. So become one. Show them how persistent you can be, make them wish they let you graduate."

Eddie adored his uncle, if that wasn't clear. That man was hard working and smart. If the world was worth anything, he would have been an alchemist, with his precise mind and nimble hands. But since world was shit and unfair, he was just a helper for one, although a great and kind one, Scott Clarke. Eddie was happy for his uncle, for the companionship he found in Scott, but there was inherent bitterness in him that wouldn't leave.

See, the issue with Eddie was - he had no clear goal, no illuminated path in his future. He wanted to explore magic, see what it had to offer. Where others had a clear destination, like Nancy with her passion for magical channels of communication or Chrissy and her focus on healing magic and diagnostics, Eddie was...untethered. He wanted to do anything and everything and he worried that this would be his downfall this time too. Because that's exactly what the whole summoning ritual hinged on.

Eddie wiped his hands on his pants, earning a disapproving scoff from the archmage. "Magic demands grace and dignity," that's what the asshole always said before elegantly wiping his mouth with a napkin or drying his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief. Eddie wanted to kick him in the shin and see how elegant he looked toppling over.

Just a few more chalk lines, no use in delaying the inevitable. This was the final exam of the senior year, but also a crucial skill that Eddie simply had to master. Because each mage needed a companion from the other side, that was the law. It didn't matter if you summoned a fae, a zephyr, a demon or even a wailing ghost of your grandma who decided to stay in the world beyond instead of moving on, you needed a companion to help with channeling of magic, amplifying it. Some mages kept the same companions for decades, other went through a series of brief companionships to find what they needed.

If Eddie only knew what he needed. That's what he was supposed to do - enter the circle, open a gate to the other world and project his ambitions, his desires. Which were, as usual, all over the place.

"I'm ready," he told the archmage as he stood up and dusted off his hands, creating more white smears on his pants.

The older man just rolled his eyes. He seemed to be in his fifties, with thick hair and just one or two strands of grey. But who knew, magic didn't really make aging normal. "I will believe it when I see it, Mr. Munson. You have yet to surprise me."

Eddie bit back a scorching remark and cracked his fingers, getting ready. He forced on a wide smile and waved at his friends who had, as expected, aced the exam. Nancy was chatting with her companion, a storm elemental (her name was Robin, as he would learn later, and she could speak so fast only Nancy was able to understand). Chrissy stood next to a tall dryad, Barbara, and gave Eddie a thumbs up, beaming at him. "You got this!" she mouthed at him and, with a brief whisper, made Barbara join in a very awkward cheer.

"Okay, here I go," muttered Eddie and entered the circle. His fingertips sparkled as he touched the prepared runes, activating them. He had one brief moment to take it all in, the scowl on the archmage's face, Nancy's quiet and confident smile and Chrissy's radiance, before the runes rose in a circle around him and obscured everything.

He blinked at the swirling colors around him, whispered voices. "Hello?" he called out, hearing the echo of his own voice. "My name is Eddie...um. I mean, Edward Munson and I am searching for a companion."

The voices sounded closer, but not close enough. He hadn't offered anything yet, so he wasn't too discouraged. "Um. I am looking for someone who would like to explore the world of magic with me. The possibilities it has and who is maybe looking to find themselves too..."

His voice trailed off. He sounded silly even to himself, not to mention to the creatures, spirits and demons in the realm. But just as he was about to quickly make up a goal, just to attract someone, he heard whispering in his ear. It sounded both melodic and dissonant, single and split. "You're intriguing. Intriguing enough to consider your offer. Say, Eddie. You seem open to everything, but...is there something that you really, really want? A desire you have? Something a companion could help you accomplish?"

Had Eddie been someone with a milder temperament, he would have explained how he hoped his success would open the door for more people like him, to change how elitist magic was. But he wasn't that, he was Eddie and he didn't feel like starting his first companionship with a lie.

"I want to succeed so much that the archmage will lose all of that fucking powdered hair," he grinned into the swirling void. "I want him to look at me, the first trash commoner mage, and know that despite being way more powerful and influential and whatever else, he couldn't get that scrawny kid to quit, no matter how many times he unfairly failed me. I want to make him feel like he's sucking on a lemon whenever he sees me. I want to become a living proof that he was wrong."

There was laughter in his ears and this time he realized - it wasn't one voice but two. One seductive and feminine, the other amused and slightly bitchy, belonging to a man.

"Well, Eddie," whispered the woman and Eddie shivered from her warm breath.

The man leaned in too, into his other ear. "We can help you with that."

And just like that, the magical void dissolved and two warm hands found their way into his.

Eddie emerged into the great hall to a series of gasps, cheers and curses. Chrissy was jumping up and down on her toes, clapping. Nancy seemed to be stuck between shock and serious amusement. And the archmage...well. That was something else.

But Eddie had manners so instead of reacting to any of them, he turned towads his companions. Two beings at once wasn't exactly common and Eddie had to understand who exactly he invited into his life.

He didn't have to recall much of his lectures on the other world to realize that his companions were demons. And not just any type, no. He gulped as he offered his hand again. "Thank you for answering my call. As I said before, I'm Eddie. Human, obviously."

The female demon was almost as tall as him, but unlike him she was gorgeous. Her thick brown hair fell to her strong shoulders in gentle waves and her amber eyes sparkled with mischief. She had moles and beauty marks all over her beautiful face. "Pleasure to join you, Eddie. Stevie, a succubus." She winked at him and shook his hand. "Obviously," she whispered.

She nudged him to the male demon, eerily similar to her, but where she was seductive he was snarky. Which...was doing equal things to Eddie's insides. Not only. "Steve," he said and squeezed his hand with a deliciously calloused hand. "Not a succubus, obviously, but an incubus. Pleasure indeed."

Eddie felt a bit manic. The wide smile on his face was starting to hurt but he couldn't bring himself to care and when Stevie used her tail to examine the chains on his belt, he wondered if the butterflies in his stomach weren't actually a stomach infection. "Uh...sorry if that's a stupid question, but are you...are you twins?"

He expected a scoff or a simple yes, but the look that Stevie and Steve exchanged wasn't clear at all. He wondered if he might have offended them, but Steve ended up throwing his arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulled him close. Yep, definitely a stomach bug because the butterflies were off the charts. "That's a bit complicated. We'll explain in a bit, but now..." The bitchy smirk on Steve's face was everything and as he whispered into Eddie's ear, Eddie couldn't help but snort. This was pure gold.

Standing between his companions and wrapping each arm around their waists, Eddie smiled at the archmage, pale and looking like he was ready to vomit all over his summoning circle.

"So, archmage Harrington," drawled Eddie and Stevie snickered next to him, "have I finally managed to surprise you?"

As Steve and Stevie raised their hands and, in a single voice, said sweetly "hi dad!", Eddie felt like his goal of giving the old pompous fart a heart attack was just within reach.

#steddie #steddie au #steve harrington #stevie harrington #eddie munson #magical au #steddie drabble #nancy wheeler #barb holland #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #yeaaah I don't have anything in my defense

[bookshelfdreams]

There were two great posts about Izzy yesterday, and I would like to expand on and add my 2 ct to the things said in them a little. One, by @celluloidbroomcloset (with additions by several others), about how Izzy immediately falls back into old patterns of manipulative behaviour after his supposed redemption in 02x07, only this time with Stede as the focus of said behaviours instead of Ed. The other, by @batsarebetterthanpeople, about how Izzy's behaviour in 02x06 and onward is more akin to the development a homophobe coming around to a queer loved one, than an arc of queer self-discovery.

Izzy's story isn't about himself. I think this is the first, fundamental mistake people make when engaging with it. He's not a protagonist; he doesn't exist in the story for his own sake. So when ofmd asks "How to reform a toxic person? What does it look like and is it even possible?", the starting point isn't one of empathy with Izzy.

It's one of empathy with Ed. ofmd is asking these questions not because it wants to understand Izzy better. What it wants to explore is the possibility of Ed having the relationship with Izzy Ed wants. Whether Izzy can be brought around to understanding Ed's wants and needs, whether he can understand the hurt he caused him.

This is a fundamentally different approach to how these stories are usually told. Usually, we start out with the unspoken assumption that the toxic person is well-intentioned, good at heart, and whatever pain they caused our protagonist is more akin to a misunderstanding than deliberate harm. Yes, they may have have caused hurt, but if you just see things from their perspective, you'll understand that they only had your best interest in mind, and that will enable you to forgive them.

Obviously this can't not veer off into victim blaming. "The abuser had a good reason for what they did, and therefore, it's your own fault. Or at the very least not theirs."

ofmd fundamentally rejects this. It is very careful to never let the bullies and abusers have a valid point. Abusers are abusive because they get something out of it. To truly reform an abuser, they would have to be willing to build a life for themselves that is a lot less comfortable. Where they have to consider other's feelings, communicate and compromise, meet other people on equal footing, instead of putting themselves in a position of authority. It means letting go of patterns of behaviour that they have so far been quite successful with*.

And Izzy - tries. He is interesting because part of him clearly wants to leave the toxicity behind. He gets to see what positive relationships, human connection, being part of a community look like; he's offered an outstretched hand, and, after biting it a few times, tentatively starts to take it.

But he can't quite get there. The temptation to fall back into what he knows is too strong. celluloidbroomcloset's post linked above talks mainly about 02x07, so I'm not gonna repeat all that, but I'm going to add two little scenes from 02x06 that further cement this. In the beginning of the episode, Izzy finds Ed as he's standing on deck, watching the sea, and the conversation that plays out is a clear mirror to, almost repeat of the Frankfurter clouds scene from 01x04. Ed tries to share an observation with Izzy in an attempt to reach out to him ("Something's wrong. Feels like a storm's coming but I can't see it."), which Izzy, of course, immediately dismisses ("Or maybe you're just a mopey twat and there is no fucking storm").

The second scene is, when Izzy is the only one discouraging Ed from following Stede to his cabin after he kills Ned Lowe. Discouraging support, discouraging connection and emotional honesty; Izzy will continue to try to isolate Stede.

Now, I do not think this, or the things happening in 02x07, are put in there deliberately to show that Izzy has ulterior motives. Rather, they are an illustration of how deep these maladaptive patterns of behaviour go. Izzy isn't able to fully admit to himself the extend of the harm he caused and this is what prevents him from truly changing his behaviour - even when he has just experienced the benefits of a loving, supportive community!

All of this is the explanation to the answer the show gives to our starting question: Is it possible for Ed to have the relationship with Izzy that Ed wants? And the answer is: No. Just because growth is possible, doesn't mean it is enough. Doesn't mean anyone's entitled to forgiveness. Sometimes, the only compassionate thing to do, is to take yourself permanently out of the other person's life.

But Izzy did learn, and he did grow. It's just that the purpose of said growth wasn't to heal him; it was to enable him to understand the hurt he caused to Ed. That doesn't have to mean people like Izzy can never be reformed, it just means that this isn't a story about the reformation of a toxic person. It's the story of leaving this toxicity behind.

And this is why Izzy's heartfelt apology followed by his immediate death is a positive ending. It represents the conviction that no relationship is so broken it can't be mended, but also the assurance that no relationship is so important it can't be ended.

Ed gets to hear the things he needs to hear most - I am sorry, I was wrong, you didn't deserve this - and then Izzy disappears from his life, and with him, all the toxicity he represents.

They can part on good terms, but part they must. So Ed can go into the rest of his life, unburdened.

*read Lundy Bancroft's "Why does he do that", seriously. The whole thing is on archive.org.

#overall izzy is treated with so much more grace and kindness than the other toxic assholes on this show #because sometimes youre fond of them. right. you DO want to make it work its just not always possible #honestly i think some people just have a very hard time wrapping their head around the fact that izzy is just a narrative device #anyway! #our flag means death #izzy hands #edward teach #thoughts

[andvys]

We’ll burn the sky | E.M.

Warnings: none yet, this is just the teaser!

Pairings: rockstar!Eddie Munson x rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: Eddie left his life in Hawkins behind to live the one he always dreamed about but there is a missing piece in his life and in his almost perfect band; you.

Author's note: Daisy Jones & the six inspired me to band au fic, so here we are. I hope you guys will like this! Also shoutout to @littledemondani thank you for helping me choose the title and for letting me rant about my ideas, you’re amazing

-

“They don’t want us.” 

“What?!” 

“They don’t want us! They don’t even want to record the album!” 

After months of pouring tears, blood and sweat into this album, their record label suddenly decided that the songs aren't good enough, that the band isn't good enough, that Eddie isn't good enough.

“We worked our asses off– what do you mean they don’t want us?!” Jeff cries, throwing his hands up as he follows Eddie, who almost ran into an old man on the sidewalk, quickly apologizing to him before he keeps on walking. 

“They said that we’re not good enough!” Eddie mumbles in annoyance, “told me to come back when we got something better to offer.”

“Not good enough? Sam loved our songs!” Gareth says as he looks at Eddie in confusion. 

“He did but apparently something is missing, the label refuses to record the album,” Eddie sighs as he halts in his tracks, placing his hands on his hips, he looks up at the blue sky and lets out a long sigh, “they said some.. some freshness is missing, whatever that is supposed to mean. Told me that there’s enough bands like ours out there already. They want something different, something new. It's too 'old fashioned'.”

Gareth stares at his best friend, shaking his head, he plops down on a bench, running his hand through his messy hair, “freshness?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows. 

Eddie clenches his jaw as he thinks of his conversation with their producer. 

‘You’re good, amazing even, your voice is great but there’s a missing piece.’

“Missing piece,” Eddie huffs, shaking his head, “he said that there’s a missing piece.” 

Jeffs stares at him, “like.. like what?” 

Eddie shrugs as the doubt begins to creep in. They all left their life in Hawkins behind, dropped everything to come out here to Los Angeles with the goal of becoming big, everyone laughed at them, told them that it would never work out, that their dreams are ridiculous but things went well, for a while. 

All four of them worked hard, they worked extra hours, saved up enough for money for them to last out here for a few months. Eddie wrote the song texts and they put all their blood and sweat into each song, hours and hours of rehearsals paid off and after a long search for a producer who was willing to work with them, they found Sam, who instantly took a liking to the boys, he gave them a chance, arranged some gigs for them before they were finally given the chance to make the album but suddenly, something is missing and they aren’t good enough anymore. 

“I don’t know, I think nothing is missing,” Gareth mumbles, “the band is perfect as it is.” 

Eddie sighs, “I don’t know.. maybe there is something missing,” he mumbles, eyes falling on the bar across the street, “I need a drink.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

-

They knock back one drink after the other, listening to the awful karaoke performances and making fun of all the singing drunk people, a distraction is what they all needed after the stressful past months and who knows, maybe they’ll find inspiration here, though Eddie doubts it. 

As entertaining as it is, Eddie can’t concentrate on it for too long. His mind goes back to the conversation with Sam. If he refuses to make the album then they can pack their things and go back home to Hawkins, pick up where they left off. Eddie would work at the garage again, Gareth and Jeff would try to get back into the community college there, Johnny would work with his dad again, they would give up their dreams and go back into a town they wanted to leave behind. 

Sure, Eddie has Wayne, all his friends and girlfriend there but Hawkins is a part of his past, something he doesn’t even want to go back to, not even for his loved ones. He is fine to go back for holidays or birthdays but that’s all. 

This is what he wants, he wants the band, he wants the concerts, the tours, the life he always dreamed of. 

But what choice does he have if the album won’t even get a chance? 

Fear fills him, anxiety takes hold of him and his hope begins to dwindle.

The music stops and only the loud chatter in the bar fills the room for a moment. Eddie stares down at his drink, ignoring the laughter of his friends. 

He downs the rest of his drink, running his hand through his messy curls, he leans back and turns to look at the stage to find a young girl reaching for the microphone. After all the old drunk men, the girl is the first female to sing tonight. He can’t see her face yet but he recognizes the band shirt, he has a similar one lying in his closet, somewhere. Clad in a short leather skirt and chunky boots, she already looks like she belongs on a stage but he doesn’t have much faith in her voice, after all, karaoke bars are just for drunk people who want to have fun, right? 

“Damn,” Gareth whistles, “she’s hot,” he says, staring at the girl. 

Jeff and Johnny chuckle but agree with him nonetheless. 

“Look at her, man,” he says to Eddie, who only shakes his head, “totally your type.” 

“I have a girlfriend,” Eddie mumbles, glaring at his friend. 

Gareth rolls his eyes, “whatever,” he mumbles, not even hiding his distaste for his best friend’s girlfriend. He never liked her and he never will. 

The One I Love by R.E.M starts playing and Eddie’s friends immediately start to bop their heads to the music. Staring at the girl with curious looks on their faces. Eddie chuckles at them, shaking his head. 

The smile falls from his lips and his eyes widen a little, both the lyrics and your voice catch his attention. He looks away from the awestruck expressions of his friends and turns to look at the singing girl, you. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, truly looks at you. 

Your eyes are closed and you hold the mic tightly in one hand as you sing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard, it’s soft yet husky and low; it’s just perfect. You look like you’re in your own little world, like only you exist. 

A girl in front of the stage whistles and you crack a smile as you open your eyes to look at her and the other girls around her who are no doubt your friends. 

Eddie’s heart makes a weird jump in his chest when you look his way as you sing. Eddie can’t help but stare at you, he is in awe. The way you sing, the way you hold yourself, the way your voice seems to get prettier and prettier to him.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, you sing as though it’s the only thing you are meant to do, like this stage is meant for you and the people are here just for you. You own the stage, you own the heart of all the people watching you, you stole it with just your voice. 

“Holy shit,” Jeff mumbles, he stares at the way you move your body as you sing, “she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Eddie gives him a disapproving look but then his eyes widen when he looks back at you. 

Piece. A missing piece. 

This is the missing piece. 

Your voice. 

Eddie blinks as Sam’s words echo in his mind. 

He looks back at you, watching your performance in awe. He is impressed by the way you look and sound like a professional, like you are already a famous singer and how you seem to capture everyone’s attention in this room. 

Your performance is effortless, there is not a single pretentious thing about you, you are just a natural. You are a star, born to be one.

The people in this bar cheer for you, whistling and clapping even as you get off the stage and your friends embrace you. 

“You’re a star, baby!” one of your friends yells with a slur in her voice as she smacks her lips against your cheek. 

“Damn, I wanna kiss her too,” Jeff mumbles as he watches you with dreamy eyes. 

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips as he stares at you, you blush and giggle as one of the drunk performers from before pretends to ask for an autograph. You wave him off with a chuckle before you make your way towards the bar. 

“That was one hell of a performance,” Gareth says with an impressed look on his face. 

“Yeah,” Jeff mumbles, “do you think that she’s maybe.. I don’t know, a singer already? We’re in L.A. after all, there’s plenty of singers we don’t know.” 

Johnny shrugs, “I don’t know–” he stops, raising his brows as he watches Eddie get up and walk away from his friends, “but we’re about to find out.” 

Gareth and Jeff follow his gaze to see him walking towards you. 

You smile at the bartender, thanking him after he takes your order. Your heart is still pounding in your chest from your little performance. It took you a lot of courage to sing in front of such a crowd, your friends did a good job at convincing you and cheering you on. You were nervous and anxious but the moment the music started and you began to sing, you forgot everything and everyone around you. 

You lean against the counter, smoothing down your skirt a little and brushing through your messy hair when someone comes up next to you. 

“Hi.” 

You raise your head and you feel as though you have been punched in your stomach, your breath is stolen away and goosebumps arise on your skin as you lock eyes with the prettiest chocolate brown eyes you have ever seen in your life. 

He grins, showing off his pearly whites. He stretches his arm out, offering you his hand to shake, “I’m Eddie.” 

A small smile appears on your face, you take his hand, ignoring the way his touch seems to make your heart flutter in your chest. You tilt your head, squinting your eyes as you stare at him. You have seen him before, not up close but.. Oh! 

“Eddie,” you smile, “from Corroded Coffin, right?” 

His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up, “you know my band?” he asks, still not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes,” you say, licking your lips as you stare at the tattoos on his arm, “you played at the twilight zone last weekend, I was there with my friends. You’re good,” you smile, “amazing even.” 

Eddie blushes, smiling at your words, “thank you!” 

“You’re welcome,” you chuckle as you see the flushed cheeks. 

He finally pulls his hand back, laughing awkwardly, “uh so, I think you’re amazing, your voice is pretty– pretty fucking good!” 

You smile at him as you look into his pretty eyes, “you think so?” 

“Yeah, I totally think so,” he grins, “that’s uh– that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him but he can’t help but check you out. It isn’t just your voice that caught his attention it’s also– No, Eddie. Don’t go there, don’t go there. He looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath. 

“Do you do that for a living or something?” he asks, “I mean, singing.” 

You shake your head, “no..” you mumble.

He nods, trying not to stare at your lips as he looks back at you, “would you like to do that for a living?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks into your eyes, noticing the pretty color; his favorite color as he just realized.

You furrow your brows and shrug, “I mean, I would love to. I-I grew up with music. I sing and play bass."

Eddie raises his brows, “you play bass?” 

“Mhm.” 

Wow. 

Not only are you an excellent singer, you also play one of his favorite instruments.

“That’s.. that’s amazing!” 

You chuckle. Your eyes trail down to his hands, eying the many rings on his fingers. 

“So uh– you know, my band might be missing a member,” Eddie says as he takes a step closer to you, leaning his elbow against the counter, “and you are really talented so…” 

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t make an offer like that, he was content with the band and he wasn’t interested in having any new band members— especially another singer but he is desperate and his chances of becoming a rockstar are getting smaller every day but something tells him that you and your voice are the key to success— hopefully.

You blink in surprise, “you’re looking for another band member?” 

He shrugs, sighing, “we weren’t looking but apparently something about our music is not good enough and the label is about to drop us. We need something new.. something that might make our music better— don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good already but apparently not everyone thinks so.”

A smirk appears on your face, “oh, so… you want me to save your band?” 

He rolls his eyes playfully, giving you a coy smile, “I guess?” 

“Aren’t you a heavy metal band?” you ask, skeptically, “I do rock music, not heavy metal.” 

“I mean, we lean more towards rock right now, so..” he says, shrugging.

You raise your brows, crossing your arms over your chest, you shrug, “I don’t know, what am I gonna be? A background singer?” you ask, “background bass player? I’m not interested in being in your shadow.” 

“No…. we just need another singer.” 

“The lead singer wants another singer?” you ask in confusion, “who would want that?” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“I want that,” he shrugs, “I play guitar and I sing so I have no problem with sharing the spotlight.” 

“Really?” you laugh, “you don’t mind sharing the spotlight, why is that so hard to believe?” 

He chuckles, “listen Sweetheart, I would never ever make an offer like this to just anyone but I’m really desperate here, I really want to make this album and I’m willing to add another singer to the mix, your voice is fucking beautiful and something tells me that you could.. make things better so… are you interested in joining the best band in the world?” 

The smile on your face gives him the answer he was hoping for. And just like that, his confidence is back.

This isn’t over yet, not for him and not for the band.

Corroded Coffin is gonna go big and Eddie’s dreams will come true, he just knows it, he can see it, in your eyes.

-

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson

[chlorinecake]

Love On A Leash | 심재윤 𓇢𓆸

summary • You offer to dog-sit Jake’s energetic pet border collie as a means to get closer to him. But how will he react when he finds out you forgot to feed her while he was gone?

pairing • next door neighbor!jake x reader • word count • 3.6k genre next door neighbor au, fluff • warnings language, jake and reader have a minor argument, suggestive themes, kissing

YOU FELT LIKE cursing your mother for making you do this.

It was currently 7am as you stood outside your next door neighbor’s front porch with a basket of assorted muffins in hand. The gesture was supposed to be a housewarming gift on behalf of your 'humble community,' your mother tasking you with delivering the treats while she got ready for work although she was already running late.

Your dilemma had nothing to do with her act of kindness, but everything to do with the very moment your dangerously lovesick eyes landed on your new neighbor, Sim Jake.

It goes without saying that he was good-looking, and attractive guys were no more to you than kryptonite is to superman; a crippling weakness. You were already whipped for Jake as is, creating a file filled with all of the things you either learned or observed about him over the past two weeks.

You hadn't even been standing at his porch for 15 seconds before your feet struggled to stay put, tempted to abandon ship and just tell your mom that no one was home.

Maybe he won't even answer, you tried comforting yourself.

What kind of a 20 year old guy would be up this early, anyways?

The door knob twisted as a muffled yawn met your ears, the door creaking open to reveal none other than Jake himself.

He was dressed in his pajamas, sporting a severe case of bedhead that he somehow pulled off.

“Hello?” He said with a groggy yet friendly accent.

“Hi! I’m your next door neighbor's daughter, ____. Here's a welcoming gift from our family to yours,” you forced a smile, handing him the basket.

“Wow, this is really sweet of you guys,” he thanked with a toothy smile, but you stood awkwardly.

“My name is Jake, by the way," he said while giving you a handshake, trying to break the tense physical barrier.

"Glad we could finally meet," you returned, "My mom talks about your family all the time. All good things, of course."

“Yeah, apparently she and my dad knew each other in high school… but now I’m curious. How much do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re from Brisbane and recently moved here for college! Oh, and you’re a huge dog lover, especially of golden retriever’s, like the one you have? Hmm, aren’t you an athlete? I think I’ve seen you in a tracksuit befo-”

“Those are all things about me, silly, not my family,” he giggled, running a hand through his locks.

Buzz.

Jake set the basket down on the table behind him, reaching in his pocket to analyze whatever just popped up on his phone screen. You wondered if he had a girlfr-

"Hm," he hummed, taking a step back into his house.

"I should get going now. Thanks again for the gift! I hope to see you around more often.”

“Well, its not like we can really avoid each other, anyways,” you said, drawing his attention to the brief distance between your two houses.

He blushed at the realization, "Give me a break, ____, I’m not usually up this early. And for the record, Layla’s a border collie!" He exclaimed before closing the door.

Updated Mental Note: (1) Jake’s dad knew your mom in high school, (2) Jake isn’t a morning person, (3) Jake’s dog is a border collie [confirmed].

Surprisingly, that interaction wasn't nearly as painful as you expected it to be.

Jake was chill.

Attractive, yes, but somehow, you survived. Trailing back from his porch to your house, you walked inside to find your mother fastening a pair of heels around her ankles before standing up to meet you. “How do I look? Is my hair okay? Wait, tell me, what did they say about the muffins?”

“You look great, mom! And their son answered, but he said he really appreciated it.”

“Oh, that’s great,” she smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Alright, sweetie! Duty calls! I’ll see you at dinner!”

“See ya,” you waved before closing the door.

JAKE’S DAD HAD started giving him a hard time concerning the dog. After summer, Jake was busy most of the time with soccer practice and school, and so with two working parents, it was hard to keep up with Layla’s random outbursts.

“You either find someone to watch her or she’s going to the pound!” His dad scowled while picking up a few pillows that Layla chewed holes into. “She’s been with us for years, and even now after the move, Dad! We can’t just give her up for acting like a dog! She’s getting used to this change, too,” Jake argued back while sweeping up a pile of kibble she knocked over.

“I hear what you’re saying, but make sure you consider what I’ve said. I’m not sure how much longer your mother and I can take this.”

A few minutes after their conversation, Jake decided to go and play catch with Layla in the front yard.

“Come here girl, come here! Stop? Sit? Good doggy,” he praised, ruffling the fur on her back before giving her a treat. You were walking home from the bus stop when Jake pointed to one of the tennis balls Layla forget to fetch which you ended up tripping over, the books you were carrying now joining you on the pavement.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” Jake said running over to you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke for your physical being as emotionally, you were an embarrassed wreck.

He helped you gather your textbooks and journals, “You’ll probably wanna put these in here.” He smiled, handing you the bag he used to carry Layla’s outdoor toys.

“No really, it’s alright, Jake. I should’ve brought my backpack with me.”

“No, I insist. Think if it as payment for the muffins,” he encouraged, neatly putting the books in the bag before tying it closed. Layla was busy bouncing around the two of you, trying to get Jake’s attention. A glint of playfulness sparkled in his eyes.

“Wanna try throwing the ball?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Last time I tried something like that, I ended up having to replace a few things I could hardly afford.” Jake laughed at your honesty, taking your hand in his before closing your fingers around the ball. “Just give it a shot. Prove me wrong,” he winked.

You looked down bashfully, giving in while warming up your shoulders, “You might wanna stand back a bit unless you like getting hit in the balls.”

He giggled again, walking back a few steps, “You’re being too hard on yourself, silly! Just throw it!”

Taking a deep breath, you launched the tennis ball an impressive distance away from you, the excited cream dog chasing after it. “Holy shit! You’ve got the arm of a pro, ____!” Jake exclaimed, giving you a high five.

“Now, when she comes back, you give her this treat.” “With my hand?” “Of course! Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

In a matter of seconds, Layla was already running back to you, dropping the drool-covered ball from her mouth before eating the dog biscuits from your hand, the texture of her tongue tickling your palm. “Good girl,” Jake chirped as he met you and Layla on the ground.

“How’d you come up with her name?”

“Layla? Hmm. I’ve never had someone ask me that before,” he admitted, moving to sit crisscross applesauce. “Let’s see… when I was a kid, my inspiration was pretty corny.”

“Corny can be cute sometimes,” you smiled.

“Well, when my family adopted her, she didn’t have a name yet. One of my favorite songs back then was Eric Clapton’s “Layla,” so I figured that’s what she’d be called.”

“Aww! That’s adorable!”

“You probably think everything I do is adorable.”

It was like a cat caught your tongue, leaving you speechless at his comment.

“Kidding,” he smiled, nudging your shoulder before a sad look waved over his features.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, “It’s my dad. He wants me to get rid of Layla.”

“But why? Isn’t she like family to you?”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he thinks she’s only become a burden now that I’m not around as much,” he frowned, watching Layla chase herself around a tree. “The pound’s not a place for a dog like Layla.”

You sat in thought, thinking of ways to comfort Jake that didn’t involve touching him. Then it hit you.

“I can dog-sit her for you.”

His eyes widened in shock at your offer, resembling a cute puppy, “You'd seriously do that for me? Do you have experience?”

“Obviously,” you scoffed dishonestly, “look how comfortable we are with each other. I’m a natural at this.”

“Wow, I really appreciate this. I’ll pay you fifteen dollars per hour starting tomorrow from 11am to 3pm, and then-“

“Jake, I don’t want your money," you giggled, not even realizing that your hand rested on his exposed thigh, "I just wanna help.”

He smiled, “Okay, then. But if you ever feel like backing out, don't hesitate to let me know! Trust me, I won't be disappointed, Layla can be a handful.”

“Gotchya,” you replied, tossing another tennis ball for his dog to fetch, “How should I contact you?”

“Uhhh, I’ll just give you my phone number. Do you have a pen with you?”

“Yeah, right here,” you said, handing him the pen from your pocket.

Jake wrote his number on your wrist. “Perfect,” he chirped, rubbing a thumb over the writings.

“I’ll text you my schedule and everything once I hear from you again, see you around, neighbor!”

“See you!” You returned, both of you going back to your respective houses, the bliss of each other still fresh on your faces.

TO YOUR LUCK, your first day as a dog-sitter was going swimmingly well so far. Jake outlined a simple list of things for you to follow while he was away, tasks ranging from dog-walks to bathroom breaks making up most of the next few hours of your day.

Before Jake left, all you could remember was him saying something about a bag of dog food either in the fridge or pantry, but you were too distracted by the grey sweatpants he wore to successfully pay attention. So, you improvised by intuition.

What would I eat if I was a dog, you asked yourself, searching for any cooked proteins in Jake's fridge, only to find a pack of bacon bits.

Hmm, this could work.

Layla was waiting for her meal patiently by her empty feeding bowl as you moved to explore the pantry, pulling out a few marshmallows and graham crackers to add to the mix. Pouring the contents into her bowl, you gave her a few head scratches before she dove in, munching up every last bite.

"Looks like I've created a culinary masterpiece," you smiled, "I'll call it "____'s Canine Trail Mix," approved by the likes of Sim Layla and many more."

JAKE SHOWED UP about twenty minutes later, greeting you before asking about Layla.

"Everything went great," you beamed, taking him to the couch she laid tiredly on.

“What’s wrong with her? Did she just wake up from a nap?”

“I don't know, I just got out of the bathroom.”

“Did you walk her?”

“Of course, for two hours like you said.”

“Hmm. Did she play with her toys at all?”

“A little bit, but she didn’t seem interested after eating."

“Maybe you gave her too much food. How many scoops of kibble did she get?”

“What?" You asked, initially confused at the mentioning of kibble until you remembered what Jake was trying to tell you before he left: Layla gets 2 scoops of kibble for lunch with a few sausages from the fridge.

“How much food did you give Layla?” He repeated.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed her.”

His jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

"Well, I did feed her, but I forgot about the kibble. I gave her a bowl of bacon bits, graham crackers, and marshmallows instead."

Jake paced back and forth, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "What kind of a person with 'dog experience' decides to feed them marshmallows of all things? A whole ass bowl full?”

"I'm not following," you admitted timidly.

"Connect the dots, would ya?" He spat, trying to control his breathing.

"How was I supposed to know dogs can’t eat marshmallows?"

"Dog's don't eat common human foods, ____, that’s a no-brainer! I thought you said you had experience with this kind of thing," he frowned, meeting Layla on the couch to comfort her aching state.

You kept your distance from him, "I lied to you, Jake. I’m an amateur when it comes to this stuff."

He scoffed disappointedly, "Why would you lie about something like that, ____?"

"I- I just…I wanted to help you! You seemed really upset about the whole thing with your dad and I- it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

"Well, for future reference, lying never helps."

You swallowed the dryness that grew in your throat, "I’m really sorry, Jake. Is there anything that I can do to help? Maybe get her some medicine?"

"No, ____, you’ve done enough already. I’ll see you around."

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you simply grabbed your things and walked towards the door, the sounds of Layla's guttural wrenching making you cringe in shame and disgust.

Updated mental note: (1) Dogs can’t eat marshmallows, (2) Lying never fixes situations, (3) Jake probably hates you now [pending confirmation]

IT WAS A few days after the dog-sitting situation when you were studying on your front lawn, completely mesmerized by the view of Jake as he worked out in his garage. You felt guilty for ogling after everything that happened, but you couldn't fight your hormonally induced urges.

He was pushing out his third set of bench presses, fluffy brown hair framing his cheekbones. He screwed his eyes shut from the intensity, biting his lower lip as he tried to push through the resistance of his fatigue arms.

He glanced over quickly as sweat started to drip in his eyes. You stared back at him like a deer in the headlights at the realization that you’d been caught peeking. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, struggling to handle the weight. “__-____?!” He stuttered your name breathlessly, losing his grip. “JAKE!”

You ran faster than your legs have ever carried you, adrenaline kicking in as you slid the left weight off of the rod, jumping onto his lap to avoid the iron disc from smashing your foot. “Ugh,” he groaned in relief as you reached to slide the other weight off, unintentionally pressing yourself into him.

That sound might replay in your mind forever.

Gripping the rod in your hand, you looked down to see both your own and Jake’s veiny hands holding onto the pole for dear life. Then you looked down, realizing that you were sitting straight on his bulge.

“Oh my God, sorry!” You yelped, leaping off of his sweaty frame. He giggled at your apology, feeling embarrassed himself but for different reasons.

“It’s alright, ____, you probably just saved my life there,” he said, now sitting up on the bench. He gave you a look before continuing. “Why were you stalking me?”

“Me? I-“

“I’m not upset, or anything. Did you wanna tell me something?”

“No, I was just… I didn’t mean to-"

Layla's barking from inside the house cut you off mid sentence. You were just now noticing the pink paint stains on his shirt, a few drops decorating the private area of his sweatpants.

Similarly to a puppy, Jake forgot all about what you were just talking about, getting up to fix the equipment. “You’re really fast, y’know? What other secret athletic talents do you have?”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, if you ever tried tickling me, I might become a professional kickboxer.”

Jake laughed at your joke like he always did. You swore that if he blessed your ears with his beautiful laugh one more time, you might explode.

“Maybe you should spot me sometime,” he said, fastening the ring weight back on the rod.

Your eyes fell to the paint stains on his paints. “I’m sorry?”

“Spot me. Like when I’m weightlifting. You seem pretty keen to watching out for me, anyways.”

You could feel heat rushing through every part of your body. “Of course, anything for a neighbor,” you smiled, trying to redirect his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

Layla barked even louder this time, Jake sighing before heading to his garage door. For some reason you followed him, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m washing white clothes, so if you have anything light colored on, throw it in the machine,” Jake’s mom yelled from the kitchen at the sound of him entering the house.

“Alright,” he called back, taking off his sweaty white t-shirt and tossing it into the washer. He reached over to press a few buttons on the machine, the muscles in his arm flexing with each movement. He trailed from the washroom, you still following closely behind.

“It’s a maze in here,” you said, marveling at how big his house was.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” he giggled, taking your hand in his to guide you. 

You just remembered that he came in here to look for Layla, so you listened out, trying to help him find her.

“Oh,” you said, stopping Jake in his tracks as you pointed to a four legged shadow running around underneath a closed door, “she’s right here.”

He turned, “What? How’d she get in my bedroom?” Jake walked towards the door, twisting the handle to reveal Layla chasing her tail in a circle.

“You’re so silly, Layla,” he smiled, running a hand through her thick blonde fur. “She’s doing such much better now,” you commented, meeting Jake and his dog on the floor.

“Yeah, she was totally fine after getting that stuff out of her system. Don't worry, though, she told me she forgives you," he smiled.

"And what about you?"

"Of course, ____. I don't think I could over hold a grudge against you."

Layla hopped on your lap, licking at your hands. You would’ve been grossed out if it wasn’t Jake’s dog. Her tongue tickled your palms as she panted in excitement, “I wish I had this much energy on a daily basis,” you beamed, Jake returning a grin himself.

“I think she just really likes you,” he replied. “With all of those kisses, you must taste pretty nice.”

“Maybe you’ll have to try sometime,” you said, not even realizing how suggestive your comment was. Jake grabbed a random tennis ball from the floor before tossing it out of the room, “Go fetch,” he ordered, Layla chasing after the ball.

A sparkle twinkled in his eye before he lead your face towards his by your chin. He noticed that you looked nervous, but decided to take his chances and kiss you anyway, all of your nerves melting away at the softness of his lips. You felt his hand grip at the side of your neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Kicking your foot, you closed the door slightly, falling on your back for him to take the lead. His lips broke from yours with a pop as your cold hands snuck around his bare waist. He hummed at the feeling, leaning in to kiss down your neck.

His breath was so hot against your skin, sweet sounds escaping your mouth from all the action. That’s when you two heard Layla trailing back to his room, returning to the positions you were sat in before Layla left. She barged through the door, slobbery tennis ball between her jaws as she dropped before Jake. “Good girl,” he cheered, fluffing at her fur.

You felt the aftermath of your kiss like a wave, exhausting yet refreshing.

You felt Jake.

His kiss was like water, crashing and roaring, yet emotional and gentle. You couldn’t tell, but he still felt a wave that hit him, too.

He felt you.

Your hands modest and shy, yet your lips eager and passionate. 

Layla barked for what sounded like her loudest one thus far. “I’ve gotta go walk Layla,” Jake said, sounding happy yet simultaneously like he’d rather be doing something else. Fastening a leash around Layla's collar, he trailed out of his room. You reached on his dresser and grabbed a shirt for him to wear on his way out.

His mom was no longer in the kitchen, but you decided to be polite anyways. “Bye, Mrs. Sim!” You could hear her returning the salutation from some part of the maze-like house, making your heart feel warm. Jake walked through garage and stopped at the driveway, having locked all the doors before exiting the house.

“Thanks for stopping by, ____,” he smiled, flashing you a look so intense, you might fall over. “Anytime,” you returned, handing him the shirt you’d been carrying. You don’t know when it happened, but you didn’t feel awkward in front of his shirtless frame anymore. “Aww,” he giggled, “I didn’t even realize I was still shirtless.”

He was so puppy-like that you couldn't help but adore him. Layla starting running, Jake loosing grip of her leash while distracted by you. “Layla!” He called after her before running to catch up himself.

“I gotta go now. Bye, ____!” He yelled as he ran after his excited dog. “Bye, Jake,” you called out while waving, even though he didn’t see you.

You walked back to your house, talking your shoes off at the front door before heading upstairs to your bedroom. You knew you didn’t wanna leave Jake's side yet, but you had other things to work on at home in the meantime.

Things like sharing with your diary that you and Sim Jake just kissed.

𐂯‎ This piece was created to mark TODAY, my official first month on as a Tumblr creator!!!! Thank you all so much for reading this piece! Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :3

𐂯 Feel free to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

𐂯‎ Taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @yngwife @sussyjake @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @stinkoscope @03sunoos @4imhry @rickysblkgf

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[illuminatedquill]

Cyar'ika

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger Story

Story Summary: Takes place during Ahsoka Season 2. Making a hasty exit from Peridea, Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger are finally heading home together - only without Ahsoka, who elected to stay behind to finish the mission she started. Feeling lost without the presence of her Master and the grim ordeal of facing Thrawn's resurgent Empire ahead, Sabine is facing her lowest point yet. However, her trial is just beginning as Ezra finally confronts his closest friend with the knowledge about her deal with Thrawn. And the conversation that follows will change everything between them.

*Fan-art by the amazing @rancidsugar! Used here with their permission, since it directly inspired this fanfic.

Author’s Note: With the fantastic news that Ahsoka S2 is now in development, I finally decided to take a crack at writing the next reunion for our favorite duo. It’s a long time coming, and we all know Sabine needs to come clean with Ezra about certain things she’s been hiding from him. Let’s see how he responds.

The star whale's mouth gaped open, as Huyang maneuvered the T-6 shuttle into its mouth. Sabine held her breath as the vessel slipped inside, warily keeping an eye on the enormous teeth that hovered directly over them.

"Easy does it," muttered Ezra. He stood between her and Huyang in the shuttle's cockpit, eyes closed and hand outstretched; through the Force, Sabine could feel her friend communicating with the purrgil. Reassuring waves of calm and peace flowed through the bond he had with the majestic beast, making sure that they were not crunched between its massive jaws.

Sabine gazed in admiration at Ezra's competence, in the easy confidence he had in his abilities. He had grown so much in his time away from home and truly become the Jedi that Kanan wished him to be.

He would be so proud of you, she thought with a pang of melancholy. Not for the first time, she wished Kanan was here to witness all of this.

Her thoughts turned to her own master, Ahsoka Tano, who had elected to stay behind to finish her task on Peridea. Sabine felt guilt trickle into her emotions, remembering their last conversation before she left.

"We're supposed to stick together, remember? I'm not leaving you."

"Thrawn is your mission. What's happening here on Peridea is mine. I must see this through. And Ezra will need your help in defeating Thrawn."

"I can't do this without you, master. There's so much more I need to learn."

"You already know everything you need. I have nothing more to offer you than this: just be yourself, Sabine. That's more than enough."

She closed her eyes, feeling the pang of melancholy sharpen into grief. Once again, another loved one had gone and there was nothing she could do about it.

As if reading her thoughts, Huyang said, "Do not grieve for Lady Tano, Sabine. She was only able to make her choice because of you."

"You mean it was my fault," said Sabine bitterly.

"Not at all. It is because you are going home that she was able to stay on Peridea to deal with the threat there. She trusted you, Sabine Wren, to deal with Thrawn."

You know I can always count on you, right?

Sabine felt a small smile escape through the gloom of her feelings, remembering the young boy who had uttered those words a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . .

Ahsoka had told her the same in their last conversation. Her master was counting on her to see this through. And she would. She promised herself, and to Ahsoka, that she would do whatever it takes to ensure that it was done.

And then she would bring Ahsoka home, so they could all finally live in peace.

The shuttle shuddered and a bright spectrum of lights filled the cabin; Sabine squinted her eyes at the dazzling array, almost blinded by the light show in front of them.

"Here we go," said Ezra. She looked at him, seeing the satisfied smile on his face. Sabine, not able to help herself, reached forward and squeezed his hand.

Ezra turned to look at her. "Thanks for coming back," she said.

He squeezed her hand back affectionately. "Did it in record time, too," he teased. "What's your excuse?"

Sabine rolled her eyes. "There was a war still going on, remember?"

"Uh-huh," replied Ezra, sounding unconvinced. "I guess I'll let it slide."

"This will take a while," Huyang said, interrupting their banter. "Ezra, if you would please tend to Lady Wren's injuries? I will stay here and keep an eye on things while you two rest."

Sabine blinked and then a wave of exhaustion and pain swept over her; she had forgotten how desperate their escape had been until now when Huyang had said something.

Ezra blinked and muttered a curse. "Right. Sorry, Sabine." He reached forward and lifted her from the co-pilot seat. She started to protest but another wave of exhaustion slipped past her defenses and only a weak mumble escaped her lips as Ezra carried her to the med-bay.

"You're awfully quiet," observed Sabine while he finished patching up her wounds some time later.

Ezra carefully applied a final bandage to a cut on her right upper forearm before replying, "Huyang's right. You shouldn't beat yourself up about Ahsoka. She needed to stay. And you needed to go home."

He sat back and double-checked his handiwork. "Can you walk?"

Sabine attempted to sit up from the medical bed but was immediately faced with a dozen sharp pinpricks of pain from all over her body. "You mean today?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Ezra smiled briefly at her attempt at humor before saying, "Bedrest it is, then."

Sabine grimaced but laid back in the bed. "This is doing wonders for my confidence," she muttered.

Ezra reached out and held her hand. "Surviving Peridea is an achievement only a few can claim. It's an exclusive club, Sabine. You're now a part of it."

She snorted. "Well," she mused, "if Thrawn can do it, then I sure as hell can."

At the mention of Thrawn, she saw Ezra's face become troubled. A flash of insight from the Force revealed something dark roiling beneath Ezra's confidence . . .

"What is it?" she asked quietly. "I felt that."

Ezra let go of her hand and sat back in his chair. She could practically see the gears whirring away inside his head as he thought through some particularly difficult decision.

Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. "I found the purrgils," he said slowly.

"I can see that," replied Sabine. "Seeing as though we're in one."

Ezra reached up to rub the back of his head. He's nervous about something, she noted. Her stomach began to sink, feeling the direction of his thoughts; small seeds of doubt were sprouting in his mind.

About her.

He looked up at her. "So did Thrawn," he said.

She inhaled sharply. "He was there?"

Ezra nodded. "He guessed what my next move was. I managed to get ahead of him, thanks to Hera's intervention but . . ."

"But what, Ezra?" Sabine felt like she didn't want to know the answer.

He reached down to his belt and took out his comm-link. "He sent me a message," he said quietly.

Ezra clicked on the comm-link and a conversation began to play.

Thrawn: "I must congratulate you on your success today, Ezra Bridger. You've shown great loyalty to your friends, Sabine Wren and Ahsoka Tano."

Ezra: "Not that you would understand anything about that. I'll be seeing you later, Grand Admiral."

Thrawn: "Indeed you will. Perhaps to a changed galaxy. All thanks to your friend, Sabine. How different things would be if she did not care so much about you."

Ezra: ". . . What's that supposed to mean?"

Thrawn: "Oh, she didn't tell you? Unfortunate. Be sure to give her my thanks when you reunite."

The recording stopped. Ezra gazed at Sabine, eyes unreadable, waiting for her answer.

Sabine couldn't bring herself to look at him. She just stared at the comm-link in his hand, wanting to be anywhere else than here, wanting a black hole to emerge and suck her into its void. Any hell would be preferable instead of having to face an Ezra who knew about what she had done.

"Sabine." His voice was soft, not accusatory. Almost pleading.

At last, she finally found her voice, weak as it was. "What do you want me to say, Ezra?" she asked. "Do you want me to apologize?"

"I want you to say whatever it is you want to say. I'm just going to listen," he said.

She folded her arms over her stomach; it felt like everything important inside her was threatening to spill out. "I'm not going to apologize," she whispered.

"Okay," was all he said.

"You weren't there. I had to make a choice. No one else was there. It was just me. Ahsoka - I thought Baylan had killed her. She was gone. And you were still gone, and I had the map." She hated how desperate her voice sounded.

Ezra, true to his word, didn't say anything. He just watched her.

"I couldn't lose you like I lost my family. Like how I thought I had lost Ahsoka. I wasn't - I wasn't strong enough to lose you a second time. My best friend." Tears threatened to blur her vision; a sob, rising in her throat steadily, almost robbed her voice of what little strength it had. She fought through it.

"So, I handed the map over. I made the deal with Thrawn to find you. I betrayed everything you and Kanan and everyone else sacrificed and died for. All just so I could see you again."

At last, she turned to look at him. The tears fell freely now down her face. "I doomed the galaxy for you, Ezra Bridger. And the worst part of it is, I'd do it again. Even knowing how it would all end."

Ezra gazed at her for a long moment and then turned away. Sabine struggled to sit-up and pleaded, "Ezra, please say something. Say anything."

He stood up abruptly. She blinked at him in surprise. "Say that you hate me and just get this over with," she said, resigned. Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces but this was the price she knew would be paid the moment the map left her hand.

He stood over her. She waited for him to say the words that would end their friendship.

Instead, he clasped his hands over the sides of her face and leaned forward, gently touching his forehead with hers. Her eyes widened with surprise - and then with overwhelming gratitude as she felt the love and reassurance from him flow through their bond in the Force.

Sabine couldn't hold it back anymore. She started to openly weep. "After all this?" she cried. "Even with all that I've done?"

"Always," he reassured her. "I forgive you. Always. It'll be okay, Sabine. We'll figure it out, together."

"I'm weak," she said. "I did something so bad."

"You are not weak," replied Ezra firmly. "You are enough. You are extraordinary, Sabine. And it's not like I haven't done things I regret, you know? The Sith Holocron, you remember?"

Sabine shook her head. "This isn't the same! This is the whole galaxy that's at stake."

Ezra chuckled. "It's not a competition, first of all. And when hasn't the galaxy been at stake? We've dealt with Thrawn before, we'll do it again."

The guilt surged up within her, refusing to be assuaged by his words. "But - "

"But nothing," Ezra said sternly. "Sabine. Listen to me. Did you build the gigantic hyperdrive ring that Thrawn used to get back?"

She stared at him, thrown off by the sudden question. "Uh, no."

"Did you put Morgan Elsbeth onto his path as a partner? Did you hire Baylan and Shin?"

Sabine saw where his line of questions was heading. Grimacing, she said, "No, but - "

Ezra interrupted her. "Yes, you had a role in his return. But not all of it belongs to you, do you understand? He couldn't have returned without a lot of help, not just you."

"Okay, okay." She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I get it. I think."

"Good," he said. "No more feeling guilty. We need to be focused for what lies ahead."

Sabine looked at him. "We?" she asked.

He nodded. "You're stuck with me, Sabine Wren. Whether you like it or not."

She smiled, considering his words. "I guess that's not so bad." She looked him over and shook her head in amazement.

"What is it?" Ezra asked.

"When did you grow up so quickly, goober?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Haven't heard that nickname in a while. Since we were kids," he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Guess I can't really call you that anymore, huh."

Ezra winked at her. "You can call me whatever you like, Sabine."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I'll think about it," she said. Suddenly, her stomach rumbled, interrupting the conversation. Sabine flushed with embarrassment.

Ezra laughed. "I'll heat up some food. Be right back."

Watching him leave, the moment he was out of earshot, Sabine said softly, "I'll be here, cyar'ika."

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars rebels #ezrabine #star wars #ahsoka show #ahsoka #natasha liu bordizzo #eman esfandi #sabezra fanfiction

[kaz-oooo]

Honestly, as shit as this past week and a bit has been for this fandom, I think it’s worth congratulating us all for how we handled it. (At least on tumblr, I haven’t touched twitter in a while)

This fandom has always had a reputation — all big fandoms do, more people just equals more drama I suppose — but I think when information like Wilbur’s abuse or the QSMP failing to pay its staff drops like this the rest of the world just expects us to turn to absolute shit, and I’m proud of us for not doing that :)

Of course there’s some exceptions — there always will be, especially when there’s so much emotion involved — but for the most part we supported victims, supported each other and left the assholes in the dust where they belong.

With Wilbur it helped that he straight up admitted it, but even before he made his *statement* I watched almost everyone take the side of caution, people supported Shubble first and foremost and distanced themselves from their once favourite streamer. The few people who stuck around were quick to drop him the second he responded.

As a community I’ve seen so much support for one another! From people supporting every decision made by creatives within the fandom (moving onto new fandoms, creating work about different characters, yoinking c!wilbur for themselves, etc) to popular blogs offering up their anons as a place to vent, to sharing playlists and new content with one another. I think i can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard the word “cancel” as well, which is great! We’ve been treating Shubble’s experiences with the respect and maturity it deserves. It’s been phenomenal, honestly makes me proud to be apart of this community, even if the *guy* who brought us all here is a fuckwit.

And with Quackity and the QSMP, honestly the initial reaction seemed to be the same, albeit a little less dramatic (especially since he responded so quickly). A victim came out, we all stood in solidarity with them and patiently awaited Quackity’s response. While he also admitted guilt, he actually apologised and promised to make changes. We’ve seen him taking those steps, shutting down the QSMP temporarily to work behind the scenes, firing the people responsible for causing harm, doing everything within his power to set things right, even if that means paying people out of his own pocket and shutting down his beloved project, and of course being open and honest about the changes being made. <- this is how you apologise, you say sorry and you take the steps to set things right!

And of course the community reacted positively. I’ve seen a few people worried about the future of QSMP (and a few drm stans praying for his downfall because of course they are) but for the most part Quackity and the QSMP team have been given our patience and support, I’m confident things will get better with time.

I mean I’ve been loitering on the internet for a while now, I’ve seen my fair share of creators being exposed as garbage humans and I just don’t think I’ve seen a fandom react like this, especially not in such a short timeframe. Just — good job guys, let’s keep supporting victims, not just those who’ve come out now, but for those who come out in the future.

#wilbur situation #Wilbur neg #qsmp #qsmp situation #quackity

[jaded-jezz]

Secret Smiles

Hi, this is my first one-shot so I obviously had to have Jack Champion kick off this account! Let me know your opinions or requests too!

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

Jack Champion x F!Reader

☁︎ Fluff

summary: your relationship with Jack is still private so you communicate across events in different ways.

The Emmy Awards. I've heard that so much recently that its starting to sound like a made-up word. I still get goosebumps every time I remember I get to attend these prestigious awards with my cast, friends and-

"Y/N, as beautiful as you look right now, it is time to get up"

And- my boyfriend.

Jack and I have been together for almost 7 months and due to me living in England most of the time, we have been able to keep it a secret. Our relationship is like that Taylor Swift song “London Boy” but flipped. Because god he loves the English.

I give in to the whispering voice and slowly start to stretch to wake my body up. As I open my eyes I realize the curtains have been opened and warm yellow light is pouring down onto the mop of curls bouncing around me.

"Compliments already Champion?" I ask grinning as Jack whips around to see I'm awake now, "Maybe I should stay asleep forever if you think I look that good."

"Yeah but then all my bad jokes would never be laughed at again" he says as he walks towards me offering his arm and bowing slightly, "M'Lady, breakfast is waiting and it'll be cold if we don't hurry" he exclaims in his best British accent before grabbing my hand and pulling me through the hotel room in a fit of mischievous giggles.

He had ordered my favorite from room service and had it set in front of the window with a view of the beach in the distance. Although I woke up later than planned we were still ahead of schedule so we took our time eating and just talking to try and ignore the nerves for tonight.

A knock at the hotel door made us jump and we remembered Jack was supposed to stay in his own room. I tried to whisper that he should wait somewhere until it was safe to leave but my manager and the rest of my team walked in. I'd forgotten they had a key.

"Oh... I let myself in as I thought you over slept but I can see-" She glances at Jack trying not to break her serious face, " you are awake and have company"

Everyone glances at each other for a few moments before erupting into laughter as it's almost an unspoken tradition that me and Jack don't listen to staying separate before something so nerve wracking as The Emmys.

Sadly, Jack was kicked out swiftly so that my team could help me with my hair and makeup and eventually get into my dress. This is one of my favorite parts of the day because everyone is talking and having fun while music plays as background music for us to dance, sing or just listen to. One thing we love to do is make TikToks about the process of my makeover.

I thrive off musical.ly transitions and the fans love it every time, and it makes me so happy. My fans have always been some of my favorite people. When I first started out I followed the first fan accounts and we continue DM regularly after all this time. But even though they are lovely, Jack and I are still wary of hate and also some of the threats that his fans may throw at me. We will tell people eventually but right now its fun to mess with them and give subtle hints for the detectives among the followers.

I am finally ready. I've finished the last parts of TikToks, taken photos and grabbed my bag of essentials like plasters, gum and tissues. I shoot Jack a text and he's at my door in less than 30 seconds. Even though he has seen pictures of my outfit, his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when I open the hotel door.

"Hey-" My face starts to go red after realizing why he has stopped talking "Jesus Y/N, you look gorgeous, like actually breathtaking, I need an inhaler, Do you have to pay for inhalers? Where do you even buy them from?" He rambles as he becomes flustered in front of the beautiful woman he gets to call his girlfriend.

I grab his face, to stop the word vomit, and kiss him trying not to smile too much. "Thank you Jack, you look as amazing as always" I retort "Is it hot in here, somebody catch me I am going to faint, Cause of death: Jack Champion" We both laugh before our managers tell us its sadly time to separate for the ride to The Emmys.

We text non-stop throughout the journey talking about everything that has ever happened because neither of us can stay on one topic without branching off into a rant or an important piece of backstory to the first conversation. But Jack has to arrive at the theater first so that he can walk the carpet at a similar time to his cast mates, and so that I can do the same. So we text our goodbyes.

Stepping out of the car onto the carpet with fans shouting and cameras flashing is a feeling I will never get used to. The rush hits me as I remember to smile and walk properly to not look like Bambi on ice. My manager is that my side lightly guiding me towards the queue of celebrities next to the paparazzi for our official photos. I use the waiting time to scope out the brown head of hair that will calm me down.

I hear him laughing before I see him. He is doing an interview with one of his favorite cast mates and I feel my face already start to ache from smiling at him. However he doesn't spot me until I'm on the carpet.

(Jack's Interview- Jack's POV)

"So yes, we are extremely proud of this movie" I end my answer for the interviewer. They start to ask another but I am distracted by the roar of noise from behind me. Y/N.

She looks stunning. I can tell why she has such dedicated fans, I mean look at her. I finally catch her eye and we do our little signal.

It's like we have made up our own language for these events. Little head wiggles, eyebrows and nose scrunches and sometimes we risk it by lip syncing the words and we just pray that no one can see we are communicating with each other.

I laugh to myself before I'm pulled away from the trance she has put me in. My cast mate is elbowing me and I realize a few people are staring at me, expecting an answer.

" Oh I'm so sorry, I got distracted" Y/N is never going to stop talking about this, "What was the question?"

(Back to Y/N's POV)

As I walk off the end of the carpet my manager appears, telling me all about Jack's distraction and I already knew he was going to be so embarrassed about this even before I pulled out my phone to be met with the long stream of manic texts from Jack.

(Later that night, in the comment section of Jack's Interview)

jackonion: Is anyone else trying to work out what got Jack so distracted? ↳user142: no omg i was trying to do that too! ↳Y/N's.heart: It was definitely Y/N, you can see her dress at the end of the video. I might be going delusional but it's because I ship them.

"Uh Oh" Jack and I say at the same time.

Wow! So that is the end of my first piece?! Please let me know if its too long or doesn't make sense as I am now paranoid that I just wrote a random bunch of words with my eyes closed. I don't really know if this can have part two but if you think of anything let me know.

Requests are open, so send them through! Use as much detail as you want or have.

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #x reader #fluff #emmy winner #actress #actress reader #jaded jellyfish sting #oneshot #so cute #marry me jack champion #im so alone

[urfavemcustan]

The Last Fuck-Up

Summary: when things get crazy at The Bear, Carmy completely forgets about dinner with your parents (with doesn’t help the fact that they aren’t his biggest fans) 

Warnings: angst, language, established longterm relationship, communication, fluff at the end

WC: 2k

a/n: I was eager to post this, I hope you enjoy!

————————

“See you later princess,” Carmy leaned over to kiss your cheek before heading out for work, you were cocooned in the soft comforter of your shared bed. 

“Remember my parents are flying in tonight.” Though you weren’t fully awake, you had enough in you to remind him of tonight’s dinner plans. It’s practically become muscle memory to bring it up whenever you talk to him. 

He sighed, “I can't wait for this dinner to be over so you can stop reminding me about it.” 

You chuckled, knowing your constant reminders were annoying the crap out of him, “well remember when you forgot about our last date night?”

“Hon, I told you that we had the craziest rush that day. Besides, didn’t I make it up to you?”

“Yeah yeah,” you wave him off as you drift back to sleep.

Eventually, it was time for you to head to work as well. As the day went on you thought of texting Carmy about you plans but ultimately deciding against it. It’s dinner with your parents you figured, it shouldn’t be that hard to remember. 

You carried on with your day, leaving early to stop home and change. Did I see Carmy with his change of clothes? You wondered. He was supposed to be changing at the Bear before dinner.

You sighed to yourself he’s a grown man, he can remember a dinner reservation. You finished getting ready and ubered to the restaurant.

It didn’t take long for your parents to get there and be seated. While you were naturally happy to see them, the empty chair created a looming awkwardness. It seemed your parents also picked up on the vibe from the lack of Carmen’s presence.

“Did you finally dump that Carter guy?” Your father broke the silence.

“Carmen and I are still together dad,” you rolled your eyes at his eagerness, “he’s coming from the restaurant so there’s probably traffic.”

Was that true? You hoped so. You partially worried for his well being. Was there an emergency that you’ve yet to be told about? The rational part of you reached a different conclusion, one you’ve been fearing since these plans were made:

He forgot

That couldn’t be possible right? You literally talked about this dinner every day, multiple times a day. How could he forget?

You pushed aside your thoughts and endured dinner. You could barely appreciate having both of your parents in front of you because you were so caught up on blowing up Carmen’s phone.

Eventually, Carmy pulled up to the valet in front of the restaurant. As he was about to hand over his keys he noticed you and your parents on the sidewalk. He completely missed it. He parked the car in it’s place and ran towards you ignoring the valet people as they yelled behind him.

“Y/n,” he approached the group composed of yourself, your mother and your father.

“Dinner’s over if you haven’t noticed.” Your father scowled at your boyfriend, picking up on the fact that Carmen made some mistake.

“I see that. I apologize,”  he directed his attention towards him and your mother, “things got insane at the restaurant and I lost track of time. It isn’t an excuse but I promise that I wouldn’t have missed this on purpose.”

“It looks like the Uber’s here,” your mom spoke up, “do you need a ride?” She turned to you, hinting at you not staying with Carmen tonight.

“I can drive you home,” Carmy offered.

“Yeah drive her home, it’s the least you could do,” Your father snapped. 

“You’re right,” Carmy couldn’t even argue, “y/n, can I please drive you home,” he longed to get you alone so he could properly grovel minus the judgement from your parents.

“Sure,” you forced yourself to give a reassuring smile to your parents and hugged them goodbye.

Once the two of you got in the car, Carmy could barely keep his eyes on the road as he tried to earnestly apologize.

“Fuck y/n,” he rubbed his face, “I really was prepared to leave on time. I did not want to fuck this up. Jesus, they probably hate me even more now. I swear I’ll make it up to them and you.”

You crossed your arms and stuck your head towards your window. Was it petty? Sure. Part of you didn’t even want to give him the silent treatment but you needed to so you wouldn’t cry. 

The elevator ride to the apartment was painful. You kept your eyes glued to doors ahead of you. It was hard to keep your head straight while his piecing stare was on you.

When you made it up upstairs you made a b line to the shower.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He pressed his face against the bathroom door, muffling his apology.

There was no response.

All he could was hear the faint sound of you crying over the water. That completely destroyed him.

Carmen stood against the door and waited while you showered. He only moved when he felt you opening the door.

You slipped out silently and continued your bedtime routine.

Carmy only followed behind you pleading, “bring your parents to the restaurant tomorrow, I’ll close it early and do a special dinner just for them.”

“They might have plans tomorrow, the special dinner was supposed to be tonight.” You pulled the cover back on your side of the bed and sat crisscrossed.

Even though you shot his attempt at redemption down, Carmen was eager to keep you speaking, “Please talk to me, say something.” He sat upright against the headboard.

“If I speak right now I’ll say something I’ll regret,” you we’re being truthful. Right now you’re filled with so much hurt and rage you know that if you start talking you’ll go too far.

“Chew me out!” he exclaimed, practically yelling,“please, I just need to hear your voice. I want you to tell me how bad a fucked up, you deserve to go off.”

You could definitely agree with that,“It’s just that you would get so annoyed with me for nagging you about tonight just for you to,” you choked, “for you to forget... again. You think I want to remind you of every single plan we make?”

“No,” Carmy wanted to kick himself for giving you attitude about your reminders.

“No, but I have to or else you won’t show up. Well,” you scoffed, reminding yourself that after all you efforts, he still forgot, “I don’t even know what I have to do at this point.” 

“You don’t have to do anything.” He went to place a comforting hand on your thigh but decided again it.

“I don’t?” You alluded to the fact that this isn’t the first time he’s forgot about something.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he corrected himself.

“I shouldn’t but I do.”

“And I promise that you’ll never have to remind me about anything again.”

“I’ll never have to again? How many times are you going to tell me that Carm? We talk about getting married and starting a family, but how’s that ever going to work?” You sighed, “Will you be late to our rehearsal dinner? Will you be able to make all of my doctor’s appointments? You gonna tell our kid you missed their game because there was a crazy lunch rush?” You felt your face heat up and realized the sudden warmth was coming from tears streaming down your eyes.

Everything about this hit him

He longed to have a future with you. The thought of you being scared of the Bear messed that up killed him. Especially because that was an anxiety he shared as well.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling you into his chest and you couldn’t help but melt into it. He kissed your head, grateful to have you in his arms.

You were rambling at this point but you just had so much built up inside you. Carmen listened, silently nodding as he absorbed everything you were saying.

“I know that it was probably super busy and crazy today but for my parents,” your voice cracked, “I just thought that this would be important to you.”

“It was,” he assured. He wasn’t lying, he really wanted to mend his relationship with them, especially before asking for their blessing but he couldn’t tell you that right now.

“Everything you’re saying is completely right. You know what? I’m my own boss now, I’ll take off whenever we have something just to ensure I don’t fuck up again.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you shook your head, “I would never ask you to put me before the Bear but it just makes me feel really shitty that I’m competing with a fucking restaurant for my boyfriends attention. It really makes me feel unwanted.” 

There it was

You finally let out what’s been eating away at you for the entirety of your relationship

“What?” Carmy felt as if his heart was about to stop.

“What?” You got so caught up spilling everything that’s been sitting, you were barely paying attention to the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/n, do you really think that The Bear is more important to me.” He looked down at you.

Your silence was enough of an answer for him.

His mouth dropped in shock, “That- that’s,” he shut his eyes trying to wrap his head around your logic. That was crazy, ludicrous. How could you not see how much he cared about you? He shook his head, “I mean- you really think that?”

“It’s hard not to,” your voice was barely above a whisper, “if I’m so important, how am I so forgetful?”

“Y/n you could never be forgetful. I think about you all day. The thought of coming home to you gets me through each day. I can’t lose you,” he was crying now.

“Lose me?” You’ve never heard him speak like this before.

“It’s just that,” he sighed and pulled you in tighter, “I’m a fuck up and it looks like I’m about- it looks like I did fuck up the one good thing in my life”

“Don’t say that.”

“No it’s true y/n. I’m a piece of shit that can’t even leave work for the person I love most. I didn’t even know I was hurting you this much,” he slumped his shoulders.

“But you do know now and by the looks of it, you’re going to do your best to avoid this happening again.”

“God I will,” he agreed.

“Baby I was hurt and we talked through it. It’s okay,” you reached a hand up and wiped away his tears.

“It won’t be okay until I make it up to you.”

“True, you owe me a lot of makeup sex,” you smiled. For the first time all night, the two of you laughed.

“So can we go to bed now?” You asked, “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Yes please,” Carmy could definitely use some sleep right now. Not only was he tired from your emotional conversation, he had a stress full work day as well.

You shut the lights off and the two of you laid down with you in his chest just as before.

“You’d really close early tomorrow? For my parents?” You recalled his earlier pleading.

“Of course. For you? I’d do anything, even take shit from Richie,” he winced.

“So how bad was today?” 

“Really?” Carmy was surprised you even wanted to hear whisperings of that damn restaurant.

“Yeah, tell me what happened. I wanna hear about your day.”

“It was a fucking disaster y/n,” he sighed, recounting the shit he had to put up with, thankful to have you to vent to, “I love you.”

——————

a/n: ignore carmy’s non showering lol, it bothers me sm but I couldn’t think of a way to fit that in

#carmen berzatto #carmen x reader #carmen angst #soft carmy #carmy angst #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto angst

[fandomnerd9602]

Visits

Fem!Baron Zemo x Male Reader

For @wildcardjgambit

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You had gotten your daughter out of the blast zone that was the Battle of Sokovia. And yet with all the loss, it wasn’t enough for your wife Baroness Helga Zemo. Her heart had turned cold, cold enough to commit atrocities in the name of your home country. She wasn’t always this way.

She was your light, a loving wife and mother. And now you hardly recognize the woman that stands before you behind several inches of bulletproof glass, bound in a straight jacket.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

“I did it for our home, the people we lost.” she answers back, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s my baby?”

“S-she couldn’t make it” you lied. The truth was that when little Marie saw her mother’s image up on the news screen with the words terrorist written across it. It broke her little heart, “that’s not my mommy” she cried.

You didn’t have much else to say to Helga, you just slipped her the papers you were dreading to deliver. You hoped it would never come to this but it wasn’t much left for a marriage nor was it the best life for your daughter.

Helga sighed and signed them. “I don’t regret what i did” she whispered as she slid them through the opening to you. “they took everything from us”

“And I tried to rebuild it for you. I don’t blame the Avengers. I just wish you had thought of Marie and I.”

And with that, you turned and left. The microphone allowing you to communicate with Zemo was shut off. And a good thing too, because if it was still on, you would’ve heard her cries of anguish.

The helicopter left the Raft, with you aboard. It dropped you off not far from the border of Sokovia. You found yourself feeling empty but you were ready to rebuild.

You found yourself at a nearby coffee shop, just trying to plan out yours and Marie’s next step. Your thoughts ran rampant when suddenly someone spoke up.

“Excuse me” a young Sokovian woman asked you, “is this seat taken? Everywhere else is full”

“Sure” you gave her a gentle smile, “I’m just planning things out”

“I know the feeling” the redhead smiled back

“Sorry I’m (Y/N)” you offered your hand. She took ahold of your hand and shook it gently.

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff”

You felt something jump within you when your hand shook hers. You’re not sure if it was the spark of something or maybe rather just finding solace with a fellow survivor. Maybe that’s all it had to be.

Fan Cast: Marion Cotillard as Baroness Helga Zemo

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #captain america civil war #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #marion cotillard #rule 63 #genderswap #gender swap #genderbend #genderbent #female baron zemo #wanda maximoff #Sokovia

[purdledooturt]

WIP xDay

SO. @larvasmoon tagged me for WIP Wednesday but I lost track of the days - I'm so sorry!

Anyway, the last WIP I dug up for this turned into a full fic, so I had to find something else to post (we love suffering from success) - please enjoy this excerpt from the Dadstarion fic I'm working on in between other things ❤

Remember That I Love You

His daughter stood on a step stool in front of their mirror, making faces at her own reflection. Astarion, crouched low and armed with sewing pins, looked up to find her scrunching her nose while trying to lift her eyebrows. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Darling, do be careful or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Would you still love me, Papa?” she asked, and her face broke into a toothy grin as she turned to face him. Gods – with a smile that wide (missing front tooth and all) she looked very much like her mother, who was elsewhere pottering in the house.

The sudden movement made the cloth slip past his fingers. He tutted gently and without any malice, making a note to himself that, all things considered, she’d been unusually patient and still for this alteration session. She apologised, the words coming out almost as a reflex instead of a genuine apology before he turned her towards the mirror once more to continue rolling and pinning a new hem to her new skirt.

“Well?” she prodded again, careful to only turn her head towards him this time.

“My love, there is nothing you can do that will make Papa love you less,” he answered, truthfully and honestly. He loved his daughter unconditionally, and he did not think it initially possible until he had held her in his arms for the first time. “You know, you looked like a prune when you were born but I still loved you then,” he grinned at her, recalling the memory of her birth like it was only yesterday. Every detail came to mind with ease, her arrival to the world a bright flash of light in the timeline of his life. For someone who had been beaten into believing that you would only be valued for what you could give, Astarion found that he loved his wrinkly little child before she could offer him anything at all. “Mama and Papa will always love you.”

She hummed, and it was obvious the seriousness of his declaration went unnoticed. “Even if my face got stuck like… this?” She made another comical face, crossing her eyes and pouting. She looked nothing short of adorable. How could he, with all his sins, have made something so pure? He gave her nose a light tap, amused as her eyes followed the tip of his finger. The action made her break into giggles, which was a sound he wished he could bottle and hold to his heart forever.

“I suppose even then,” he sighed theatrically.

She began swaying side to side, as she put her hands out for him to hold. She was an affectionate child, and he’d found his personal bubble had grown and accounted for the shape of his daughter in it. The alterations were momentarily forgotten, as her skirt swayed side to side, half too long and half just right. “Even if… I don’t eat my vegetables?”

Cheeky thing. “Sure – but we would still give you a talking to, I think.”

“What?” she asked, and she nearly tipped herself off the step stool if not for his hands holding hers. “Papa, if you loved me you wouldn’t give me a talking to.”

Ah, yes – this deviousness could only have been his contribution to the development of their only child. “My sunshine, that’s not how it works,” he replies, “Nice try.”

The prompt came from Cinnamontails's discord (the prompt was provided by myself, and then taken by myself, like a greedy gremlin). As usual, I'm here to promote our little community - please come and join us!

I'm tagging @larvasmoon back, like a cheeky chook. I'd also like to tag @riskpig and @vyjuarts. And also, @bludazey (my love, because I have missed you), and @cinnamontails-ff (because I'm trying to coax more of that Rolan fic out of you, if it wasn't already obvious).

Fingers crossed I'll have something new soon (wink).

#purdle-writes #astarion #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #dadstarion #fic WIP #I'm a sucker for dadstarion truly #astarion fanfic #dadstarion fanfic #soft astarion