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silovsmenot · 2 days

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Family Skate | Artūrs Šilovs

Requested by anon…

i love ur writing sm.... what if i suggest an imagine where reader and Arturs go on a skate date, like at an ice rink or something, and he teaches reader how to skate. i think that would be really cute idk that man is soooo beautiful and i want to hold his hand

WARNINGS: As usual, this is just pure fluff. PAIRING: Artūrs Šilovs x f!reader. NOTES: I would sell my soul to hold his hand, ngl. I haven't proof read this, so hopefully no major issues. WORD COUNT: 1792

The closing of the season was bittersweet. The team had fought so hard, but with the 3-2 loss in game seven, the Canucks were eliminated from the playoffs. You’d sat and comforted Artūrs all night, barely sleeping as he sat silently and over-thought every decision and move he made in that game.

The loss was nowhere near his fault, but he blamed himself — as would many of the guys, if you’d have to guess. The wives and girlfriends group chat was quiet for the first time in weeks, only the occasional message coming through about how proud each of the partners was of the players. Messages that you showed to Arty, but nothing could draw him out of his slump.

The next day was not easy, nor the day after that. All of the guys were second-guessing themselves and speaking little of what happened. The press-conference came and went, Arty and the boys answering every question that came their way with the lingering dark clouds above their head. But there was a light on the horizon, something that you knew that Arty was looking forward to — whether he’d admit it or not.

It was no secret that you couldn’t skate. Sure, you could stand on skates and, with knees bent and arms clinging to the side, you could shuffle around the boards. But that wasn’t exactly what you’d call skating. Artūrs had long spoken about taking you to the rink when things were quiet, of teaching you to skate and you were excited for the day.

And with the season now over, and the ice days from being lifted, the Canucks organisation would put on their annual private family skate. It would be your first with the team, and while you’d met and become close with the majority of the other wives and girlfriends, it was a daunting idea.

You’d smiled from ear to ear the night before when Art had appeared in the living room of the small condo beside the Rogers Arena with a pair of skates in your size. He’d had them sharpened and made ready all without you knowing that evening — if he was honest, it was a good escape from the weight that still rested upon him. And the sight of your smile was enough to lift a large amount of the sadness.

Unsurprisingly you were the first pair to enter the rink that morning, the short commute from the condo to the family area taking you only about five minutes with skates in one hand and the Latvian goalie claiming the other.

Weaving through doors, he held open the Canucks changing room door for you and followed close behind. There, you paused for a moment — even now, it looked so empty. It came with a solemn feeling in your chest, but the names were still above the stalls and you spotted his name quickly. Art sat you down first, kneeling at your feet as he worked the laces of the new skates.

“Does that feel okay?”

You quickly nodded in response, hands clasping yours as you pulled onto your feet. You wobbled lightly, but could stand. He led you a few steps, then back and finally nodded in success.

“They suit you.” Art whispered as he leaned in close, planting a tender kiss upon your cheek which still bought a pink flush to your cheeks. He always told you that you looked beautiful, and you’d never tire of hearing it.

You stayed standing as he sat to tie his own laces, shifting on your feet to get to grips with the feeling — turning to smile and wave as the door would open for the first flood of players and their partners. Teddy Blueger and Monique were the first to come in your direction, Teddy giving you a playful and light nudge with a hand ready to catch if you stumbled. Both Teddy and Artūrs were quick to grab hands and pull into hugs, exchanging fast words in their native language while Monique rolled her eyes lightly to you.

“And they’re off.” She teased in a hushed voice, pulling you with her to sit. The changing room would soon buzz with life, and with the bare stalls, it was a welcome change. It wasn’t right when it was quiet and bare.

Bodies soon began filing down the corridor toward the ice, the busy chatter filling the silence nicely as you and Artūrs would intertwine fingers once more. It felt strange to him now, walking down the tunnel to an empty ice rink. Of course, it was no different to training, but everything had ended so abruptly… It still hadn’t quite sunk in for him.

But whatever he was thinking, he hid it well from you — the smile still firmly glued to his lips as he watched your face light up.

“Just take it slow, Art.” You quietly said as you neared the ice, your boyfriend stepping onto the ice without hesitation or any kind of shift to his stance. This was just like walking to him, but to you? You weren’t so sure.

He offered a second hand, ready to guide and balance you as soon as you stepped out onto the ice. With a steadying breath, you took the step — perhaps a little eager as your skates attempted to slip from beneath you immediately, the hands of Artūrs rescuing you before you lost your blades.

The soft sound of his laughter followed instantly, and it was so contagious to you. Any sense of embarrassment was lost in his laugh, the first signs of actual joy on his face since game seven. You didn’t care that it was at your expense, you were just so relieved to see it. And the fluttering would instantly return to your stomach.

“Are you alright?” He spoke through calming laughter, pulling you close to him with a soft thud of bodies. There, he could hold you tight as he made slow skating motions backwards. He wouldn’t spare a glance over his shoulder for he was too enraptured by your gaze, slightly shaken up but still entirely captivated by him.

“I’m fine, just go slow.”

And he would from that moment. You’d had your near-tumble-experience, and that was enough for him. He held both of your hands, skating backwards as you struggled on forwards. He’d give you tips with every movement, bending your knees, not leaning forward, keeping your head up and so many more. You were struggling to keep a note of each tip, but you were comfortable within his hands — Artūrs wouldn’t let you fall.

With every lap of the large rink, you felt more comfortable. The Latvian goalie gave a little raise of his brow as you released one of his hands, to skate side-by-side with a little confidence. You were less step-skating now, and more gliding. He was certainly pulling you along, but you were trying and he was thriving on the sight of you trying your best with this.

“Keep your knees bent, push forward with your skate — yes, just like that.” He encouraged with each passing moment, grin growing exponentially as you were doing well.

Artūrs was a pretty good teacher and an even better balancing point. He did a good job of distracting you from everyone else around, skating with ease or children stumbling and giggling. You were in your little skating world with him, the occasional squeeze of your hand as silent encouragement from him.

You were enjoying yourself. Even when he released your hand with a playful wiggle of his brows, skating backwards in front of you, just out of reach — the look of mischief clear upon his face.

“Artūrs, come back here. Please!” You cried out through the lingering laughter, the confidence leaving your motion instantly. Your gliding movements turned back to awkward step-skating, with hands outstretched for him which only served to have you leaning forward.

“Straighten up, y/n.” He calmly said, stopping himself before you. He was close enough to grab you if you fell, but far enough that you couldn’t just hold onto him. “You can do it.”

You weren’t sure if you could, but you concluded that there was no harm in trying — as long as he caught you. You didn’t want the bruises.

Another heavy, steadying breath parted your lips as you straightened up. Your hands at your sides as you took the first step, pushing your bladed foot forward as he’d taught you. You clenched your eyes shut, half expecting the tumble into his arms or the ice, but you drifted. So you took the second step, skating gliding forward — you took the next step, and the next, until you were skating alone.

Artūrs looked simply triumphant as he watched you, weaving backward without even lifting his skates. He didn’t even try to hide the pride on his face from you as you sheepishly laughed to yourself, hands balled as you stopped yourself from dancing (knowing you’d definitely go tumbling with that).

“You’re a natural, y/n. Want to join the team?” The voice of Jack Hughes shouted as he neared, shooting a cheeky wink in your direction and was gone as quickly as he appeared. You batted his hands away with a dramatic swatting of your hand, gaze playfully narrowing in a glare toward him which only served to make the captain laugh.

Almost as soon as you were getting truly confident with it, the session was over. The honking of the zamboni turning all heads, and the rink staff standing ready at the gate. Couples and families were quick to file off the ice, till it was only you and Art making your way toward the nearest gate. He waited on the other side, hand ready to support you as you’d make the first step off the ice.

In comparison to your step onto the ice, you did it with grace. There was no tumble this time. And as they often did, fingers tangled together at the first touch of his hand — the smiles immediately upon both faces.

“Did you enjoy that?” Art was quick to ask. Your head nodding swiftly and truthfully. “You did really well, I’m very proud of you.”

You simply melted to hear him say that. And you’d only melt further as he leaned down, pulling you into him as lips would collide. His free hand softly playing with the strands of your hair, you could feel how he smiled into the kiss and it was intoxicating.

“Come on, lovebirds — we’re going for a drink!” A voice shouted from down the corridor, abruptly breaking the kiss with a shared laugh. You raised a hand to acknowledge the shout, foreheads resting together as you simply revelled in the moment together.

#arturs silovs #my baby goalie #silovs #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl oneshot #arturs silovs x reader #nhl x reader #arturs silovs x y/n #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #you just know he's a wholesome bean #he'd be an amazing boyfriend #silovsmenotwrites #imagine requests

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heyhollow · 1 month

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Glammike dad doodles cuz ⭐️

A dad and his ⭐️⭐️superstar⭐️⭐️

The sketches cause I think they looked nice

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theunconcernedembalmer · 10 months

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Slides this doodle out for a bit

#identity v #identity v ask blog #unconcerned art #im not really going to tag characters #i know its been a while. i fell into a depressive slump while at work #n things started to get slightly better so i finally had motivation to draw #i will. eventually get to that last gatto ask in the askbox n close the event #maybe its about time to call a semi hiatus. asks are always welcome tho #ill still be around!!! if i have idv doodles or asks coming my way #its really been such a long time. i have not kept up with the ask blog scene. n the lore as well. sweats #i will also. aim to finish the modern ghost au comic with victor. eventually #also to new followers. hello!!! hope u have fun scrolling through the blog. help urself to the dumb comics i have sometimes #n feel free to drop an ask. thats the easiest way to bring activity back to the blog XD

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emile-hides · 3 months

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I was looking directly at a reference while drawing these and I still somehow convinced myself he had long hair. Whatever, he's pretty.

A-Z Isekai'd Cress deign by @acfan120 really got me in some kinda way and I couldn't help wanting to draw him. I also have thoughts on story for him but I'm not gonna be annoying with that rn. Maybe someday.

Bonus my warmup doodle:

#Emile's Arts #Pokemon #Pokemon Fanart #Oh it's been YEARS sense I've done non-selfship related fanart #DILF Cress got to me dude I needed to draw him #I have no idea how I convinced myself so wholly he had long hair but you know what whatever #Commit I say it looks good let it sit #Hhhh I tired to make the chain of his monocal look like tear drops #...Okay I said I wouldn't say my thoughts but like look listen okay look #To me he's either working at Parfum Palace (constructed 300 years ago so probably not if we're going the full 3000 back)#Or the Battle Chateau BEFORE it's a Battle Chateau and is just. I guess a regular Chateau???#I personally image it's pre-BW2 era Cress when the Straiton Trio hit their slump being the weakest gym leaders #Just for the extra angst of Cress having this feeling he's not a good Pokemon battler and not very confident in his skills #And also just. What'd loosing their brother would do to an already down in the dumps Chili and Cress #I like to imagine through a side quest with him he eventually regains his confidence with battling #And maybe even establishes the Battle Chateau? that'd be fun~#Those are like my basic story thoughts again I don't wanna.#I don't wanna go too crazy with it kfdjgkdfjgk #I just always really liked Cress he's sooooo cool to me <3 #Reliving middleschool nonsense with this one boys and girls #SORRY TO AC FOR THE TAG!!! I JUST LIKE HIM!!!!

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bigfrogdraws · 8 months

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It'll come back around

#macs doodles #sum lifegen/clangen doodles :]#im going through a weird art slump and the only thing keeping me creatively active is drawing w my mouse in experimental ways #i was on an ms paint kick now i might toy around in firealpaca seeing what fun stuff i can play around with #i tested out drawing with the lasso tool and gradient maps this time #along w this being done w my mouse #i dont think ive used my art tablet in like. a week #okay uhh lore for the dooble #top to bottom the characters are cricketslash -> barleyfade -> whisperingkestrel #cricketslash adopted barleykit when he was younger but later had a biokit- whisperingkit #cricket much favored whisperingkit over barleykit and basically abandoned him #over barley's life it eventually evolved to the two hating each other and cricket passing on that hatred to whispering too #so barleys life was basically his only family in the clan hating him for no reason #so one day he snapped and killed cricket #whispering didnt see it happen but he knows barley did it- but never said anything #all he did was threaten/intimidate barley whenever he could #which eventually led to barley snapping AGAIN and murdering whispering #clangen #lifegen #clan generator #clangen mod #blood #cw blood #warrior cats #warrior cats oc #also if youve read this far down i might slow down on cringetober #im starting to loose steam </3 #ill keep trying to stay up on it but i may miss a few days

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castiwls · 12 days

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winner - a.d

Paring; art x coach!reader

Requested; no

Synopsis; art finally won and you both couldn't be happier

Warnings; mentions of cheating (reader and art mentioned to be having an emotional affair)

Notes; i saw challengers today and oh my god I am obsessed!!! i immediately had brain rot and had to write something so here's this! (p.s the reader is like a co-coach idk tbh but she works with him :) )

reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist

The feel of your nails biting into your palm seemed muted as your eyes stayed locked on the small green ball. The world seemed to slow as you watched it soar through the air back and forth. Back and forth.

Your breath seemed to stick in your throat every time the ball soared over the court and back towards Art. You held your breath waiting for the moment he’d miss yet it never came. It was almost like watching a machine, every hit was perfect.

This seemed to go on for a lifetime. The world faded away until suddenly the crowd erupted into a sea of cheers. The sound of Tashi yelling pulled you back to reality and you shot up from your chair on autopilot. Unsure if you should cheer or begin damage control you looked down to the scoreboard, a small gasp leaving your lips.

He’d done it. He’d really won.

A laugh escaped your lips as you felt a rush of relief and excitement rush through you. Art’s eyes found yours from his spot on the court and he grinned up at you. The relief on his face was obvious as he stood taking in the sight before him. It had been so long since he’d walked away from a match feeling this good that he’d forgotten how it felt to win.

How it felt to know that no matter what Tashi scolded him for it wouldn’t take away the fact that he’d won.

“Art!” Your voice called out from behind him, your joy seeping into your tone. His smile only seemed to widen as he turned to see you walking towards him. Your body screamed at you to move faster, but you forced that need down. As you neared closer he quickly moved to meet you halfway, his arms engulfing you as the cheers continued.

The feeling of his arms squeezing around your waist left butterflies forming in your stomach. His body shook slightly as he pressed his face into your hair. “You won.” Smiling you pulled back slightly, his arms still encircling your waist.

“I won.” He repeated grinning down at you. You nodded another laugh of joy escaping you as he pulled you back in again, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

The feeling of holding you left him even more giddy than the relief of finally winning. His wife seemed like a distant thought as you stood there, both basking in the glory of his win.

You’d always been the one who kept him going. You’d always believed that he could come back from his slump, and you were right.

Art pulled back briefly looking over to the stands. Tashi had disappeared and he frowned slightly. “Hey.” You touched a hand to his cheek drawing his attention back to you. “She went to go deal with the winnings. She’ll be back.” You assured him.

Art nodded before another grin broke out on his face. “I really did it.” He could hardly believe it himself. Part of him had believed that maybe he’d overstayed his welcome and that he was simply no longer good enough at the thing he’d dedicated his life to.

“I told you!” You laughed moving your hand from his cheek to his shoulder. “And I’m so proud.”

He felt his cheeks heat at the praise as he tipped his chin down. “You don’t have to-”

“I mean it, Art. You deserve this.”

He looked back up to you after a moment, his eyes locking on yours. He felt himself get lost in your eyes for a moment and he raised a hand to your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into the touch your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

He knew it was wrong. He was married, yet when he looked at you he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. With Tashi the only thing keeping them together was tennis, but you were different.

You didn’t care about how well he played. You only cared about him and it felt so good to finally have someone who didn’t just see him as an extension of themselves and their stolen dreams.

Art had been in love with you for years and standing here now he felt it more then ever.

His thumb brushed against your lip for a moment before he took a deep breath. Drawing you into another hug he enjoyed the feeling of holding you yet again.

“Thank you.” He murmured, his lips brushing your ear causing a shiver to run through you. A slight blush grew on your cheeks at the closeness before you cleared your throat. Shaking your head you looked up at him. “You don’t have to thank me. You did this.”

He shook his head. “No. You never gave up on me. Even when she almost did.” Art dropped his voice leaning down slightly. His eyes darted down to your lips and you felt your breath catch in your throat again.

You knew it was wrong. Having a crush on a married man was bad enough but you knew your relationship with the man had passed the platonic marker months ago. Tashi was well aware of her husband's fondness for you, yet she’d never cared.

She’d openly admitted to you soon after you’d started working with them both that she couldn’t be the person to coddle him when things went wrong. And that was where you came in.

Starting an emotional affair with the man you were meant to be training was an awful idea. But it felt so right. Art needed someone to fall back on when things went wrong, someone who would hold him and tell him it would be okay.

You’d fallen into the routine with him so effortlessly that it felt natural.

Before you could warn him of the people around you, you felt his lips press against yours. A small noise escaped your lips as one of your hands cupped the back of his head.

One of his hands drew you closer by the waist while his other cupped your cheek.

You both knew this was bad. Someone was bound to notice but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

All that mattered was that he’d won.

#challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #art challengers #mike faist #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #challengers movie #tashi donaldson #.mine #.challengers #.artdonaldson

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prazinos · 2 years

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Art Come To Life

Summary ~ Xavier Thorpe was an interesting outcast to say the least. He had the power to make his art move, which is why it comes in handy in times like this.

Disclaimer ~ I do not support Percy Hynes White, this is about the character and not the actor.

You were walking to your best friends dorm, waving to Enid and Wednesday as they walk past, your legs growing tired from how large the school was and it didn’t help you were still in your school uniform and your brand new doc martens hadn’t broken in yet. Your feet were killing you

you finally had reached Xavier’s dorm and knocked on the door only to have no answer. You sigh pulling out the spare key Xavier had given you after Rowan had been expelled (or according to Wednesday, killed).

Opening the door you saw Xavier slumped back in his desk chair. You squinted at him before he let out a moan. The blush quickly rising from your neck to your face as your thighs clench at the noise. Your eyes widen, you can’t really have walked in on your best friend masturbating and then have found it hot, there’s got to be something wrong with you. Xavier lets out another loud moan and you whimper at the sound. Immediately he closes his sketchbook and whips his head around covering himself.

‘What are you doing here Y/N?!’

‘I’m-I’m so sorry Xavier I was, I was just coming to see you because I um got some weed from, from uh from Ajax and I was going to smoke um some with you’

‘God this is so humiliating’

You took this as a chance to tease him, while cruel, it was slightly funny

‘Were you really jacking off to a drawing you did?’

‘What? No I had my um my phone on my sketchbook’

He looks mortified and you only feel slightly bad when you reach to grab the sketchbook. He attempts to grab the book before quickly going to cover himself again.

As you flick through the pages, you can see him squirming in your peripheral.

Your eyes widen when they land on a drawing, a drawing of you and Xavier, but it was you riding him. Your eyes dart back to his face and he looks like he’s going to explode.

You smirk at him before placing the book down.

‘Make it move Xavier’

‘I-What?’

‘Make the drawing move’

He moves his hand over the drawing and it immediately starts to move. Your eyes trail over your naked drawn body, bouncing on top of Xavier. You watch as your drawn self throws her head back. You look over to Xavier and notice he’s palming himself slightly. Smirking, you reach over to his hand and remove it from his hard cock, you glanced at it, taking it in, it was at least 8 inches, it was thick but not to the point it would hurt, the tip was an angry red and you took in the neatly groomed pubes at the base.

You brought your hand to your mouth and spat in it before wrapping your hand around his cock. Immediately Xavier’s head was thrown back and you saw as his hands gripped the armrests, his knuckles turning white.

You smiled at his reaction. Your hand started moving up and down his cock at a fast pace, you rub your thumb over the slit of the head and he whimpers loudly, tears sprouting in the corners of his eyes. He looks at you in the eyes

‘Please, please Y/N, let me cum I need it so bad’

You smile at his begging and nod. You lean down and lightly lick at the precum on the tip, his hips bucking harshly as he cums down your hand.

He’s a panting mess when he comes down from his climax. Whispering quiet thank yous. You smile before licking the cum off your hand, you groan at the tangy musky taste that’s just so Xavier.

You turn around, bending over, rummaging through your bag before finding the weed that Ajax had given you. You toss the bag towards Xavier, he always rolls better joints. But instead of opening the bag he slams it down on the desk startling you.

You stand back up and notice Xavier’s dark expression. He stands up taking long strides towards you and you start walking backwards before your back hits the wall. Xavier smirks at your nervous expression. He leans down smashing your lips together.

You kissed him back just as feverishly as he was kissing you. He tasted like nothing you have ever tasted before. Your hands reach into his long hair and pull lightly, making him groan. He bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp. He takes it as an opportunity to slide his tongue between your lips and into your mouth. You’re taken aback by the sudden confidence.

He finally breaks the kiss and you take in his swollen lips and tussled hair. He suddenly picks you up, hands under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He smiles when you gasp as he squeezes your thighs.

He tosses you onto his bed and you kick off your shoes and socks. Tearing off your jumper and attempting to unbutton your blouse before you’re stopped by Xavier. He rips your blouse open and you glare at him as he chuckles darkly. Hearing the buttons hit the wooded floor you groan internally as when you ask Enid to fix your now ruined blouse she will ask how it got damaged.

You could have sworn Xavier’s eyes bulged out of his head for a split second as he takes in your deep red lacy bra. You shrug the blouse off and unclip your bra as he rods himself of his own button down and took off his already opened pants.

You reach down to rid yourself of your skirt and when you do, you attempt to take off your panties as well. But Xavier stops you. Pushing you down onto his bed, you lean on your forearms to see what he was doing and you could feel yourself getting extremely wet as you watch him take your panties off with his teeth.

He spreads your thighs licking his lips and you stop him, clamping your thighs shut and he looks up at you expectedly

‘Xavier wait, you don’t have to do that, I know guys don’t really like doing that’

‘Oh Y/N, I’ve been wanting to taste this sweet pussy for months’

He pushes your thighs apart once more before licking a stripe up your dripping cunt. You groan in unison, Xavier starts to devour you as your hips buck into his face he stops you by placing a hand on your hips pushing you down. You feel as his tongue plunges into your dripping hole before sucking on your clit, he was so talented with his mouth.

You didn’t know where to put your hands and as you looked down you nearly came at the sight of him making eye contact with you as he sucks on your pulsing clit. He notices your hands hesitate before he grabs them to place in his hair. He smiles as you grip his hair tightly, once again bucking your cunt into his mouth. He pushed your hips down and bit your clit lightly, not hard enough to hurt but enough for you to yelp and get the message that he wants you to stop moving.

You didn’t think you could feel anymore pleasure but Xavier surprises you by plunging his fingers into your cunt, curling them, you feel yourself clenching around his fingers, he continues to thrust his long fingers into your g-spot and suck on your clit. You felt like you were going to pee, trying to push Xavier’s face away

‘Xavier please ‘m gonna pee’

He ignores your pleas and doubles down smirking into your pussy

You heard it before you felt it, a loud gushing noise as you felt a liquid shooting from your hole. You moan loudly as Xavier works you through your intense orgasm.

As you come down you begin to feel too sensitive. You pry his face away squirming back before looking down at him once more, noticing his chest and chin are soaked in juices.

‘Xavier I’m so sorry oh my god I didn’t even know I could do that’

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, that was so hot Angel’

He stands up before lying down on the bed. He motions for you to sit on top of him and you obey,

‘Shit, I don’t think I have any condoms’

‘It’s okay, im on birth control but if you feel safer with the condom and don’t want to do this anymore-‘

He cuts you off with a searing kiss

‘Oh baby and miss the chance to feel you cum on my cock? I want you to ride me to oblivion sweetheart’

You blush at his vulgar words before nodding. You align his hard again cock with your entrance and slowly lower yourself, you moan loudly and he whines, you start to bounce on top of him, throwing your head back with another loud moan. You bounce harder. Xavier’s hands coming to your hips to slam you down onto his cock, you let him guide you as you continue bouncing.

Xavier’s hands leave your hips and you whine at the loss of contact before whining as you felt his fingers come down onto your clit, rubbing it furiously as you feel yourself get closer to the edge you looked down at him, he looked incredible. So fucked out, so fucking hot.

‘Shit! Fuck oh Y/N ‘m gonna cum gonna cum’

His moans get louder as he reaches his climax, the hot spurts of cum tipping you over to the edge as well, as you moan loudly, bouncing on his dick a few more times as he whimpers from the overstimulation.

You collapse down onto his chest, feeling hot, sweaty, and need of a shower.

You look up at Xavier to see him staring back at you

‘I don’t know if you can tell but I really love you Y/N’

‘I love you too doofus. Have for months’

‘Well I’ve loved you since you transferred here’

You did the math realising he’s liked you for over a year.

You smile and kiss him before getting off him

‘Y/N how did this happen exactly?’ Enid questioned looking between you and the ripped blouse

‘Um well you see I kinda got attacked by a um a wolf’ you responded scratching the back of your neck

‘More like you got attacked by Xavier’ Wednesday mumbled. You snapped your head around to Wednesday glaring at her

‘Oh my god!’ Enid yells

A/N ~ I’m not sure if this was good but please let me know if you liked it by commenting, liking, or reposting

Thanks my loves <3

#xavier thorpe #wednesday #xavier thorpe smut #xavier x reader #Xavier Thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #smut #wednesday x reader #first post #ohmygodimdyingwhatifpeoplehatethis #wednesday addams #wednesday tv show #wednesday the series

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strangersmunsons · 4 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 5 Prompt: Love Notes 💌 ~ 2,300 words Eddie writes you an anonymous love note. it doesn't go according to plan.

Dear ____

I hope you’re not too weirded out by this. To be perfectly honest with you, it seemed like a really good idea when I saw this pink paper in the art room and swiped it, but now I’m not so sure…

Ah, fuck it. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? The pen has been put to paper — I might as well nut up and finish the job.

I really like you. I think about you all the time.

You don’t know me, but we had a class together two years ago. And on the first day, when I was still fresh off a jilt by a different girl, you came in and sat down. I didn’t think much of anything at first; you were just another body in the classroom, and I was wallowing in self-pity, nursing my metaphorical wounds. But as the minutes passed, I found myself glancing over at you — at first just once, then again, and then again, and then I was staring, and all I could think was: she’s really beautiful. And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Day after day I’d watch you in class and in the hallways and anywhere else you and I happened to be occupying the same space. I still do. There’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in. You seem so genuinely good and kind, like you would never hurt anybody, not even a guy like me. But I still can’t bring myself to approach you, because I look at you, and then I look at myself, and I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved that way, by someone as perfect as you. I can’t take the leap no matter how badly I want it.

I have dreams about you. I dream about what it would feel like to hold your hand, to put my arms around you, and to feel yours around me. If my subconscious is feeling particularly indulgent, I might get a kiss. But mostly in these dreams we just exist together, which feels like the most unattainable fantasy of them all. They’re the sweetest dreams to have but the worst to wake up from.

I’m not sure why I’m confessing this all to you now. Everyone else is sending each other candy grams and roses; I suppose it means I’m not as immune to this Hallmark-conspired holiday as I thought. If nothing else, I hope this gives you at least an inkling of how wonderful you are, in case you ever had any doubts. You’re a sweet girl. Anybody would be really lucky to be with you. Especially me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Deliberately omitting his signature, Eddie sets his pen down and stares at the paper in front of him, rereading the fucking novel he just wrote you.

See, now this is far too much.

Cheeks violently red, he slumps over the table in embarrassment. God, he sounds like such a serial killer! He can’t give this to you, no way. Even if it is anonymous.

…can he?

On one hand, you might find it touching. On the other hand, you might find it both disturbing and grossly predative.

If it’s truly any one thing, it’s honest — Eddie has spent the past two and half years being completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’d call it love, if he’d ever said a single word to you. But instead he’s camped out here in the library during his lunch period, spilling his guts out all over this cotton-candy pink paper, with no intention of revealing his identity.

He sighs, and with nimble fingers, folds the paper into a shape that resembles a heart. Tucking the love note into the pocket of his vest, he wrenches himself away from the table and stalks out of the library. His expression is sour; to the outward observer, he looks mightily pissed off, although what he’s really experiencing is a fierce combination of ambivalence and humiliation towards his own actions. You’d never guess that his heart is thumping wildly against his chest as he speeds through the empty hallways, getting closer and closer to your locker, still uncertain of what he’s going to do when he actually gets there.

But he knows that if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it now, because lunch will be over in mere minutes, and then everyone will start pouring out of the cafeteria.

133…134…135…there it is.

Eddie stares at your locker as though in a trance. He fishes the note from his pocket and simply clutches it in his fist, mind racing.

Can I? Should I? If she’s disgusted she won’t know it’s me. No. No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Bad idea. BAD. Or maybe…I should…

“Whatcha got there, freak?”

A beefy arm shoves him violently from behind, knocking him to the ground. His fingers automatically close around the note, instant panic setting all his nerve endings on fire.

No. Oh God, no.

He quickly tries to haul himself back to his feet, but he’s outnumbered. Two jocks pin him to the ground by his arms, thwarting any desperate punches he might have swung. A third yanks the note from his hand, smoothing out the meticulously-folded paper he’d poured his soul onto.

There’s a roaring in his ears, but it’s not enough to completely drown out the bell ringing in the distance. Then the student voices start floating down the hallway, alerting Eddie to the fact that, not only is he about to suffer greatly at the hands of these meatheads, but he’s unfortunately also going to have an audience when it happens.

The third jock holding the note reads it silently, a slow, evil grin splitting across his face. He starts howling with laughter. “Shit, Munson! I mean, I figured you’d be desperate for pussy, but this? This is a whole new level of pathetic.”

“Give it back!” Eddie snarls, desperately trying to free himself.

The third jock doubles over, cackling, then reads aloud in a nasally, mocking voice, “I have dreams about you…”

One of the goons pinning Eddie down snorts, and loosens his grip. “Hold up, I wanna read it —”

Eddie, sensing his chance, breaks out of their grasp, and makes a move to snatch his note back. Before he can, the third jock crumples it into a ball and tosses it over his head to one of his friends; Eddie makes a wild grab for it, and misses.

High school students start to trickle in, drawn to a fight like flies to honey, crowding at the edges of the scene.

The four boys play a game of Eddie-in-the-middle, the onlookers puzzled but intrigued, watching the mysterious paper whiz back and forth through the air. Growing angrier by the second, fed up with the childish antics, Eddie finally stops trying to catch the note. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lets it smash into the third jock’s nose.

There’s a collective “oooh!” from the mass of students. Eddie and the jock scuffle, both now determined to fuck the other one up as badly as possible. One goon steps in to help his friend, while the other scoops the wadded-up paper off the floor, so he can finally skim the content of Eddie’s heart for himself.

And then suddenly, the most devastating thing of all: the asshole is hollering your name over the din.

For the first time ever, Eddie finds himself hoping that the bully he’s fighting actually kills him. Because death would be better than this.

“Where’s she at? She’s gotta hear this — hey, guess what! The freak is in love with you!”

Eddie wheels around in horror. The other goon grabs him from behind, rendering him motionless again, but it barely registers. The crowd has parted like the Red Sea, everyone stepping aside to make a clear path for you to walk through. You approach nervously, looking completely bewildered as to why you’re being summoned. Eddie wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The goon thrusts the paper out to you. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he sneers.

“More like a stalker,” the third jock interjects, voice thick from his swollen nose. He steps in front of Eddie and gives him a bloody smile, flexing his hand menacingly. “Hold his face steady for me, would ya?”

“Stop it!” you shriek suddenly, snatching the paper without bothering to look at it. “You’re such assholes!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Principal Higgins has finally decided to do his job, it seems. He marches through the crowd — “Get to class, all of you!” — and pulls the two boys apart.

“My office. Now.”

He corrals the four boys down the hallway, towards the office, as the other students scatter about, flushed with excitement. None of them cast a backwards glance at you, head bent, reading the crumpled note with a furrowed brow.

An hour later and Eddie’s finally trudging his way through the parking lot.

He’s been sentenced to three days’ suspension. The guy he clocked made it out with one after-school detention, which he’ll most likely get out of due to basketball obligations, and the other two got off scot-free. Principal Higgins’s reasoning was that Eddie, because he’s the only one who did any ‘real’ damage, should get the worst punishment.

Sure, he threw the hardest punch. But the idea that any of those three are suffering worse than he is right now is downright laughable.

The hot, bitter embarrassment of it all is making his skin itch. There’s a lump in his throat; he can feel the start of angry tears prickling in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he starts driving — the last thing he needs right now is an excuse for one of Hawkins’ finest to pull him over. God knows how much they love doing that.

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t turn around, rage and shame making him want to disappear. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, or ever again, probably.

“Eddie! Wait!”

A light hand caresses his back, then curls around his bicep. He whips around, already on the defensive; you flinch backwards at his aggressive stance.

As soon as he sees that it’s you, all the tension in his body dissipates. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock; his skin becomes dead-white, then bright red in the span of about four seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth. “For the note — for everything. You weren’t supposed to know it was me.” He stares down at his feet, unable to look at you.

“Did you really mean it? All that stuff you said?”

Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.” He rubs his clammy forehead with his hand in distress, heart rate spiking again. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m the biggest fucking creep, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to you —”

“I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Eddie falls silent. His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and he’s surprised to find that you don’t look…angry. Or repulsed, or even annoyed. Your gaze is soft, the corners of your mouth pulled slightly down in a worried frown. You look concerned.

Is that for him?

“You swear you weren’t playing a joke on me?” you ask.

Eddie starts, taken aback. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do something like that to you, ever. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

You nod slowly, seeming to believe him. You swing your backpack off your shoulder so you can unzip the front pocket, and pull the dreaded love note from inside. Eyes roaming the paper once more, a small smile appears on your lips. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Then your expression turns more serious, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “And I’m so sorry that those jerks did that to you. That was terrible. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about me reading it. I love the note. Thank you for writing it.”

He can scarcely believe this conversation is happening. He’s thought about you standing in front of him like this for years — imagined what it would be like to have you look at him and really see him, the way you do right now. Now that he’s living it, it’s almost too much for him to handle.

You hesitate, like you’re unsure of what to say next. “Um, to be honest, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“How could I not?” he says dazedly. The notion that he might not know who you are is absurd to him.

You shyly avert your eyes, like you’re overwhelmed by the praise. Pressing on, you tell him, “You did get one thing wrong, though.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’m not perfect — certainly not too perfect for you to come and talk to, or — or ask out. I think you’re a good guy.”

Is there air left in his lungs? It doesn’t feel like it. “Oh,” he manages faintly. He’s too scared to say anything else, that a single incorrect word will break this spell.

You give him a gentle smile. “So…are you busy right now?”

Eddie hides his shaking hand behind his back, blushing furiously. “No, I’m not busy right now. Actually, um, I’m not even allowed back here for the next three days, so…yeah, I’m — I’m pretty open.”

You nudge his arm playfully. “Do you wanna go do something?”

Even through his leather jacket the contact makes his skin tingle. “Yes!” he practically shouts, then lowers his volume. “Sorry. I mean, you read my note. So you understand that this is kind of a big deal for me.”

You laugh, and not unkindly.

“Well, let’s get going then. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #we're an hour late! sorry bout that

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natashaslesbian · 18 days

Text

For You

Summary: You’ve been going through a rough patch with your moms for a while, after a big argument you finally tell them how you feel.

Word Count: 1.2k

Parings: (Wandanat x Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: none I believe :)

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The walls shook as you slammed your bedroom door shut, the tell tale sign of another fight with your moms. Most teenagers have arguments with their parents, who usually have high expectations of them. But being the daughter of the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch meant that your expectations were set much higher. Growing up your moms were your best friends, you spent every second with them, it was the three of you against the world. You had a magical childhood and all your school friends were jealous of your home life, however after your 13th birthday Natasha and Wanda decided that it was time for you to start training alongside Peter. It was nothing extreme, a few hours a week in the gym and some basic self defence. As Peter progressed you soon fell behind, not only disappointing your teammates but also your mothers.

You let out a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, rolling over to face the wall incase of any unwelcome visitors. You replayed the row in your head, Natasha’s words loud and clear in your mind. “Why can’t you be more like Peter, he’s doing so well, he puts so much work into his training, he’s not lazy like you!” She had shouted across the room. That was your final straw. If only they knew the effort you held within you, they just didn’t care about it as it had nothing to do with being an avenger. As a kid you loved to draw and paint, and as you got older it became a favourite hobby. At first your moms would take your cute little drawings and put them around the compound to be admired but as they transitioned back into work and long missions they didn’t really have the time to appreciate your art anymore and very quickly they forgot about your favourite activity.

A knock at the door arrived as another tear slipped down your cheek. “Go away” you huffed. Shortly after came a gentle click of your door. “Who said you could come in?” You asked. Your mom didn’t say anything just yet, she simply walked over to your bed and took a seat next to you. “Y/n” Wanda said “I- I’m sorry. I hate when we fight kiddo” she said as she reached for your hair. “Mama started it” you replied as you pushed away her touch. “Baby mama didn’t mean what she said. We had words after you left and she knows she was wrong, she’s gone for a walk to calm down” your mom said as she shuffled closer. “And I know that I was wrong too” she said, causing you to look up at her. “I shouldn’t have shouted like I did” Wanda said with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Your mom never usually shouted at you, she was normally the calm one although still echoing everything your mama was saying.

Wanda’s vulnerability made you think for a moment. You had always hidden how you truly felt, putting on a tough act so you didn’t disappoint your moms even further. When Wanda had come to see you, you were prepared for round two with her. But the delicacy she had entered the room with caused something in you to shift. “Why am I not good enough for you and mama?” You cried out, the sight breaking Wanda’s heart. “Baby don’t say that!” Your mom cooed as she pulled you up into her embrace “you are good enough for us darling” she said. “You just want me to be like Peter” you sobbed “you’d rather him be your kid” you tried to push away from Wanda’s hold, but she tightened her grip around you, “we don’t think that y/n” she said. “I know I’m not as good as him at combat and weapons and stuff but I am good at other things! Why can’t you see that? I’m trying so hard to make you proud of me but nothing I ever do is good enough!” You cried.

Without realising, a second pair of arms had been wrapped around you, a steady hand was trailing through your hair. “Mama?” You mumbled as you looked up to see her green eyes. “I’m never gonna be good enough for you am I?” You said as you melted into her arms. Natasha had been stood outside your room for a few minuets listing to yours and Wanda’s conversation. She felt so guilty when she heard what you said and came running to your side, crying along with you. “Oh my little spider, look at me” Nat said as she cupped your cheeks, bringing your gaze towards her. “I promise you’re enough baby girl, I’m so sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. Your mom and I are so proud of you but we’ve been blinded by our own want for you to become an agent. But it’s not what you want is it?” She asked. You looked at her confused for a moment, finally starting to calm down again. “Your artwork” Natasha whispered.

“Mama you remembered?” You asked. “Of course we did sweetie” Natasha said “baby you’re a fantastic little artist we loved when you used to bring us all your drawings” Wanda said as she brushed your hair back from your face. “But I thought you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted me to focus on being an avenger” you cried “you never had any time for me” you mumbled as you laid in your moms arms. “You’re right baby girl and mama and I are so sorry” Wanda said as she kissed your forehead. “Y/n being an agent and an anger is all your mom and I have ever known” Natasha said “we’ve not put being mothers first and we know that now. We thought we were putting you first by pushing you into training but we weren’t and we are so sorry” she finished. You sat up so both your moms could see you, you took a deep breath as you prepared to tell them the truth “mom, mama” you whispered “I don’t wanna be an avenger” you cried out “I’m sorry” your moms both scooped you up immediately, both now crying with you.

“We know that now sweetie” Wanda calmly said “you don’t have to be sorry” she said. “I don’t wanna disappoint you” you mumbled as you wiped your nose “dekta you could never disappoint us” Natasha said “this is your life and you’re old enough now to decide how you want to live it, all we want is for you to be happy” your mama said. It was like a breath of fresh air had hit your bedroom, everything you had wanted to say was finally out in the open. “I think I know what I wanna do” you said looking up at your moms “what is it darling?” Wanda asked “after I finish school, I wanna go to college, to study art. Is that ok?” You sheepishly asked. “Oh y/n of course it is” Natasha said “it might be expensive though” you frowned “well that’s what uncle Tony is for” Your mama giggled “and besides we’ve got some money put away from you, it’s plenty enough to get you where you need to be” Wanda said “really?” You asked, trying hard to hide your excitement. “Really baby” Natasha said “whatever you need, we’ll sort, we’re your moms and that’s our job” Wanda said as she ran her hand under your chin. “I love you mom” you said to Wanda “I love you mama” you said to Natasha.

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Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

#marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x daughter!reader #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda x reader

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naffeclipse · 11 months

Text

I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

#sidenote: cyrus is pronounced cy-rus and mani is pronounced mah-ni not manny #also their last name is Sterle but i don't know if that would ever come up #sorry that's all i'm gonna put here as a sort of summary #there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap #and that's when eclipse comes out to play #but despite looking as terrifying as he is now and fighting for control #he still loves you! (whoops he wasn't supposed to say that last part out loud)#The Jester and the Tagalong #bendy and the dark revival FNAF AU #this goes out to wynnibee for reminding me this was buried in my drafts!

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luvsellie · 1 year

Text

MASC ON [e. williams]

pairing high school au!ellie x fem!reader

summary being the new girl in school meant walking in to projects smack-dab in the middle of the year. but when you get assigned to work with the masc girl who sits next to you, there’s no hiding your blatant attraction toward her…and maybe she can’t hide her’s either.

warnings ellie and reader are 18 here (seniors in high school) !! kissing, pining (this is literally just fluff and i wanted an excuse to write for flashback el)

wc 3.9k

note this is incredibly self-indulgent and took me an embarrassing long amount of time to actually write i apologize (title inspiration from the song mask off by future)

“this is so stupid.”

ellie’s complaint compelled you to roll your eyes, a redundant sigh escaping you. “i heard you the last three times you said it.”

your deskmate slumped against the side of her bed, nimble fingers fidgeting with a slightly chewed pen as she watched you create a rough outline of the halle comet on a large poster board—she thought it was more entertaining than trying to gather the essential information your teacher had required to be provided. you could feel her eyes observing every flick and stroke of your pencil as you struggled to copy the image from your laptop.

the task had deemed itself to be more complicated than you thought, and after one more final attempt, you tossed the writing utensil to the side in frustration. “this is so stupid.”

snorting at your disgruntled attitude, ellie reached for the pencil. “how about this; i’ll draw and you get the stats. i’m dying of boredom over here.” she shuffled closer before you could object, shoving her textbook your way.

not bothering to argue, you grabbed your backpack and started to sift through the supplies you had brought along to her house. markers, pens, pencils, scissors, binder…

removing your binder from your bag you flipped it open, only to be met with other assignments and notes from varying classes. groaning, you said over a shoulder, “ellie do you have notebook paper?”

“yeah—top drawer of my desk,” she answered without looking in your direction, her short hair falling to cover the side of her face.

nodding to yourself, you shoved your things back in your bag and stood, making your way toward her desk. it was rather cluttered, which didn’t shock you in the least, but still organized in probably a way only ellie would understand.

you grabbed the first drawer’s handle and gently pulled, exposing the mess that was inside. grumbling to yourself about how ellie couldn’t possibly be able to find anything in this chaos, you began to poke through her things. managing to spot a spare journal—which you noted was not looseleaf paper like you had asked—you carefully maneuvered the notebook out from underneath all of her art supplies.

hip-thrusting the drawer shut, you flipped the journal open, eager to get on with the research you did not want to do, simply to get this project over with. but as you overturned lined pages, you came to realize this was a sketchbook—and you were the starring subject.

“ellie,” you called, eyes trained on a drawing of you slumped over a book in the school library (you recalled this day rather vividly).

the auburn-haired girl finally looked up from her spot on the carpeted floor. she quickly realized what was in your hands. “shit,” she couldn’t help but mutter in panic. ellie rushed to her feet, already reaching to take the sketchbook from you. “sorry, you weren’t supposed to-”

you said her name again, interrupting her explanation with “you would’ve saved me a lot of time had you been the one to draw that ridiculous comet from the get-go.”

ellie’s arm fell to her side, and she tried to calm her racing heart with a deep inhale. she scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, invisible strings tugging on the corners of her mouth when she realized you weren’t pissed at her. “yeah, i guess you’re right.” she paused before adding, “you’re a really shitty artist.”

your eyes flickered to hers immediately, and you snapped the journal shut before smacking her left upper arm with it. “hey! i tried my best, okay? we can’t all be as talented as you.”

“got that right,” ellie mused, her familiar easygoingness making a return. she stuck a hand out. “can i please have my sketchbook back?”

you kissed the back of your teeth, giving her a look of contemplation as you hugged the object in your hand a little closer to your chest. “mm, i don’t know. i was thinking about going through it some more. i mean, i barely got to see anything.”

ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you told her with a nod, taking a step closer to the desk behind you.

her hand dropped, and you swore that something flashed across her face, but before you could identify what it had disappeared. maybe i’m pushing it, you thought suddenly, growing aware of the way you were holding onto something that she probably poured her heart and soul into.

across from you, ellie adjusted her stance before shrugging. “alright. have fun, i guess. i just need it back tomorrow by 6th period.”

you blinked at her words, dumbfounded by her compliance. watching her return to the poster board on the floor, you held the little journal closer, already making note of what you would be doing later when you returned home.

ellie liked to draw you. she supposed it was rather obvious, but seeing the way your eyes widened as you observed her drawings made her second guess. had she really not been that apparent? she guessed not. and while she was excited to let you take her sketchbook home, she was more nervous.

it was very hard to sleep that night, and only when the small illuminated numbers on her alarm clock struck two a.m. did she finally manage to doze off.

“you look a little…rough,” dina said, cringing at her own word choice.

ellie ran a hand through her hair as she walked beside the shorter girl. “thanks. i hadn’t noticed.”

dina ignored the jab. “i can’t believe you actually gave it to her. hell, you never even let me touch that thing…and you’ve only known her for, like, two weeks! i am feeling a little betrayed, but it’s whatever.”

“letting her look at it just…felt right? i don’t know how to explain it. she doesn’t seem like someone who’d become suddenly disgusted by me drawing her way before we ever started talking,” ellie confessed, spotting the door to her earth and space class.

“ouch.” dina grabbed ellie’s arm, pulling her to an empty wall. “first of all, i wouldn’t be disgusted by you if i was her. secondly, stop being nervous. there’s no need for all of that.”

“i’m not nervous,” she objected immediately.

the brown-eyed girl stared blankly at her. “yes, you are. you’re more fidgety than normal. just go in there, sit down, and wait for her to walk in. you said she normally gets to class practically right before the bell rings?”

“yeah, she comes from the other side of the building.”

“perfect! now go.” dina shoved her friend in the direction of the classroom, waving her off with a smile.

sighing through her nose, ellie entered the room, greeted her teacher, and visibly sagged when she noticed you weren’t in your seat yet. there’s still some time, she thought to herself, not realizing that you had walked in behind her until you said:

“hey, el, you’re kinda in the way.”

you watched as ellie turned to face you, her eyes wide as she whirled. “you got here fast,” she stated bluntly.

shrugging, you moved past her to walk toward your desk. as you sat you said, “class was in the library today since they were using our room for testing.”

ellie nodded from in front of you, still standing. you noticed how aloof she was acting. “are you gonna sit?” you asked, gesturing to the desk beside you.

“yes,” she said hastily, pulling back her chair. she landed with a thud. slouching against the back of her seat, she looked at you and continued, “you brought the poster in, right? this morning?”

your mouth pressed into a thin line. “yes, ellie, i brought the poster in. but we’re not presenting today anyway, so had i forgotten, we’d still be okay.”

“god, that is such a relief,” she sighed, leaning her head back to stare at the speckled tile ceiling and roll her tense shoulders.

“agreed,” you breathed while hauling your bag into your lap. unzipping it, you pulled out the familiar brown journal. “here. back to you before 6th period. just like you said.”

ellie took her notebook cautiously, setting it on her desk as she glanced at you.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked skeptically, lowering your voice to a whisper as your teacher started class at the front of the room. “if you didn’t want me to take it then why did you give it to me in the first place?”

the girl beside you shook her head, leaning her body closer. you stared at the outline of her tattoo as she said, “i wanted you to take it. i’m just nervous that you look at me differently now.”

your eyebrows shot upward, both taken back and confused by her answer. “why would i even-” you turned to face her. “ellie, i don’t look at you ‘differently’ because you draw me. i think it’s rather sweet, actually.”

ellie was bewildered by your words, recalling what dina had said earlier about how she would have loved it if she were drawing her. maybe she had been right. licking her chapped lips, she shifted in her seat, as if she were going to say something, but snapped her head to the front when the teacher said her name sternly.

“miss williams i need you to pay attention, please. this has to do with the project, and i will not be happy when you decide to ask me something i already explained to the class,” the man up front lectured, making both you and ellie sit a little straighter in your seats.

you sent ellie an apologetic look when she glimpsed in your direction. as your teacher moved on from his scolding, you grabbed her sketchbook from her desk and flipped it open to a clean page, pen in hand.

meet me at my locker after school? you wrote quickly, pushing it over for her to see.

ellie grabbed the writing utensil you gave her. i have basketball practice after school :(

frowning, you exaggerated a sigh, shooting a playful eye roll her way as you scribbled out a reply. then i’ll come by the locker room after practice. there—problem solved.

problem solved. ellie wrote back with a grin, nodding at your solution.

“i am incredibly stupid. what was i even thinking?”

jesse was quick to shoot down your self-loathing, his shoulder brushing up against yours as he walked you in the direction of the girl's locker room. “no, you’re not. you were bold. there’s a difference.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line, cheeks slightly puffing out before you kissed the back of your teeth. anxiously running a hand over your face, you said, “well…is there really?”

“yes,” your friend quipped.

rolling your eyes, you shoved jesse jokingly as someone came walking out of the locker room. you instantly recognized dina in her cheerleading outfit, a knowing smile making its way onto your lips. the girl from your history class had always been super friendly.

“dina!” you called, earning a low groan from jesse.

the cheerleader grinned immediately, though you recognized its falter when she spotted her ex by your side. “hey! what’re you doing in the athletic building?” she made a show of not acknowledging jesse.

“i’m here for ellie!” you told her with a toothy smile, fidgeting with the straps of your backpack.

dina’s eyes widened with realization, but her bubbly appearance didn’t feign. she pointed a thumb toward the door she had come out of. “oh! she’s the last one still in the locker room, which i suppose you might’ve already known?”

shaking your head, you said, “yeah, i told her i’d meet her after basketball practice had finished.”

“well don’t let me keep you here then,” dina exclaimed, stepping out of the way to the door with the tiny woman’s symbol on it.

you nodded as you stepped past her, only looking over your shoulder to say, “i’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“yep!” dina confirmed.

jesse shot you a reassuring grin as you disappeared into the dimly lit hallway that hosted the coaches’ offices.

heart beginning to race, you pulled the door handle to the locker room and forced your legs to move. the fluorescent lights were harsh against your eyes, your chest constricting with nerves as you walked past bathroom stalls, sinks, and floor-length mirrors. you couldn't remember the last time you had been in a locker room.

finally coming up on the athletic lockers (they were on a completely separate wall from the regular physical education lockers), you started to hear shuffling.

“ellie?” you called out, trying your best to not sound like you wanted to abandon this idea entirely.

as you passed a few more of the athletic cages, you spotted the girl you were searching for. her lack of a shirt made you balk.

turned toward the lockers, ellie passed a towel through her wet hair, arms tense with movement. you admired the taunt muscles of her back, her damp skin littered with small, but visible, freckles.

she hadn’t noticed your presence.

you cleared your throat promptly, offering her a smile when she turned around. trying not to be distracted by her toned arms and abdomen, you said, “hi ellie. hope i didn’t catch you at a bad time?”

she shook her head, mouth curling into something between a genuine grin and a satisfied smirk. “hey…and no, you caught me at a really good time, actually. practice ended about 45 minutes ago.”

nodding, you took a few steps closer. “yeah, i know. i asked a friend when practices normally end. figured me being a little ‘late’ would benefit. didn’t want to catch you before you had time to shower.”

“ouch,” she said, reaching to grab for her dirty practice t-shirt in her locker. ellie looked over her shoulder as you halted.

something about the way her eyes glinted made you deadpan, “if you throw that at me i will turn around and leave right now.”

chuckling to herself, ellie shook her head. “calm down, i’m not throwing anything at anyone.” she dramatically put the shirt and a pair of folded athletic shorts in a drawstring backpack before shoving it back into the locker.

“you are so annoying,” you snapped at her, moving to sit on the wooden bench placed directly in the middle nook of lockers. as you sat, you caught a whiff of sharp mahogany and cheap cologne.

ellie’s eyebrows raised, her shoulders leaning to press against the cool metal behind her. “and yet here you are, going out of your way to meet me in the back of the locker room after school.”

part of you was certain she made emphasis on the phrase ‘back of the locker room.’

shooting her a glare, though, you straightened as you said, “i said you were annoying, not that i didn’t like you.” there was a pregnant silence before you added, “besides, i wanted to ask if you wanted to go get coffee with me.” you watched ellie’s lips pull back in disgust, your heart dropping in an instant. “or not. sorry, i didn’t-”

“how about we go get dinner instead?” she interrupted. “coffee’s disgusting and i’m starving.”

blinking at her words, you licked your lips. “yeah. yes. that works.” it took you a moment to regain your composure. shit, i almost blew that. “i didn’t know you hated coffee.”

ellie turned and grabbed a hair tie. as she put half of her hair up—somehow in the most attractive way you might add—she said, “oh, yeah. that shit is gross.”

“um, have you even tried it?” you asked doubtfully, mouth forming into a frown. when the auburn-haired girl stayed quiet and instead clasped a thin silver chain around her neck you guessed her answer was clean no.

you scoffed as you nudged her sock-covered foot. “i’m going to force you to try mine the next time i bring some.”

“sounds great,” ellie said sarcastically, a grin tugging on her lips. her smile sent chills sprawling down your spine.

shrugging off your backpack, you set it by your feet, muttering out a barely audible, “fuck.” you had no idea where this conversation was going, and your attempt at asking her out on a date had been a bust…sort of?

ellie had declined coffee and suggested dinner, but it still sounded like it fit more under the category of ‘hangout as friends.’ talking to her was sometimes like talking to a brick wall. masc’s are so fucking clueless, you thought, releasing a heavy sigh through your nose. or maybe i’m not being obvious enough?

“what?” she asked at your suddenly agitated (as she’d describe it) attitude, wetting her chapped lips as she went to sit next to you. lifting a leg over the bench, she sat, body facing yours as she man-spreaded for comfort—her proximity and stature reminded you that she was still very much shirtless…and somehow way better at this (you weren’t sure what this even entitled) than you were.

goosebumps spread across the skin of your upper arms. you shifted, pulling up a knee to rest on the wood as you trailed off, eyes avoiding hers, “you’re just so…”

her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. there was no way she didn’t notice the way you sucked in a breath. “i’m so what? look at me when you talk,” she said.

your gaze snapped toward hers, but first flickered to the swell of her mouth.

“i’m so what?” she repeated, her voice lowering an octave. when you said nothing, she added, “cat got your tongue?”

between her teasing and the adrenaline coursing through your body, you were compelled to do the only thing you could think of to shut her up—to make her drop the questions. swallowing the lump building in your throat, you grabbed her face, thumbs pressing against her warm cheeks, and kissed her with unmistakable want.

although ellie hadn’t expected for you to be so physically direct, she did not mind it at all. following the rough pace you had set, she kissed you back with just as much ferocity, her fingers slipping into the belt loops of your jeans to slide herself forward and you closer.

you mewled at her movement, the pressure between your thighs growing as intensely as you were kissing her. she was quick to regain control of the situation you had thrust upon her.

“ellie,” you mumbled against her mouth, your eyes half-shut as she tugged on your jeans a second time.

“come here,” she told you hastily, lips trailing toward your left ear. “sit on my lap.” she kissed your temple. “please.”

shuddering at her request, you wasted no time in pulling away, pushing yourself off the bench, and situating your legs over hers in a straddle position.

the heat from ellie’s skin seeped through the fabric of your shirt, her hands slipping past the hem. you found yourself arching instinctively to her venturing touch, your stomach twisting into tight knots.

“you are going to make me go insane,” she confessed, her words coming out in a whisper, leaning in to kiss you again. her lips were gentler against yours, eager to savor the moment.

in turn, you indulged in letting your palms trace the sculpted muscles of her arms, fingers trailing every dip and curve from her years of work in the weight room. “you are so beautiful,” you told her delicately, relishing the way her skin burned under yours.

ellie followed the compliment, her hands finding your face and forcing you to look at her. green eyes etched with something between lust and admiration, she thumbed a corner of your mouth. “do you have any idea what you do to me?” she whispered. “from the moment you walked into that classroom…”

her words died in her throat and she swallowed thickly as you shook your head. “don’t do that. not here.”

“do what?” she questioned, adjusting her position on the bench.

the friction between your legs forced you to release a shaky breath, and you licked your lips in an attempt to focus on bringing your thoughts into coherent sentences. she was making it extremely hard. “i want to talk about this over dinner,” you told her hoarsely. “about what we are now. about what you want us to be.”

“are you saying you want to go on a date?” she asked quietly.

you couldn’t help your sudden smile. “i asked you earlier when i mentioned coffee, but you instantly shut that idea down.”

ellie rolled her eyes, though you could sense her pang of guilt. “you weren’t very clear on the date part. otherwise, i would’ve said yes immediately.”

surprise feigned your features. “you? saying yes to a coffee date?”

“oh, ha-ha.” she exaggerated the fake laugh. “and yes, had i known you were asking me out i would've sacrificed my comfort for your enjoyment. honestly, i think i do that quite often—as of right now i think my tailbone is being bruised.”

you sucked in harshly, moving off her with urgency as you shoved her shoulder with a hand. “why didn’t you say anything?!”

“and risk not feeling you up? yeah, no thanks.” her tone was definite.

your jaw fell slack as you crossed your arms over your chest, confounded by her response. “you can still feel me up without me in your lap, dummy.”

“yeah, but that sounds less fun,” ellie teased, holding up her hands in defense. she stood from her seat, reaching around you to grab her baseball t-shirt from earlier. as she put her arms through the sleeves she said, “i have a game tomorrow. you should come watch.”

you scrunched your nose jokingly, deciding to use her words against her. “and see you all sweaty? yeah, no thanks.”

ellie straightened out her shirt, shooting you a rather bemused look in the process. “how do you know you won’t like seeing me all sweaty and worn out?”

as she hunched down to pull on her converse, you exhaled heavily, unable to come up with something witty. mainly because she was right. you would totally like to see her all sweaty and worn out. so, with a slight bruise to your ego, you itched your nape, mumbling out, “i never said i wouldn’t like that. you always assume shit about me.”

“and you always assume shit about me, so we’re even,” ellie shot back, standing back up. she grabbed her backpack from inside the locker before changing the subject. “where do you wanna go for dinner?”

you shrugged, reaching down for your own bag. swinging it over a should, you said, “i don’t know. whatever you want. and you’re right, i do assume shit about you. like right now, for instance, i’m assuming you’re a picky eater.”

“i am not a picky eater.” she shut down your claim with a light kick to your shoe. “and fine, i’ll pick something and surprise you. did you drive to school today?”

you shook your head. “no.”

“great, looks like you’re sticking with me then.” she tried and failed to hide her cheeky smile. closing her locker, she grabbed your hand, hastily leading you toward the main hallway of the locker room. “come on.”

trailing after her, you felt your cheeks heat with the prompt realization of your reality. maybe you’d have to thank your earth and space teacher for assigning that stupid comet project. the steady growth of your relationship with ellie made your insides twist with pure excitement, and as she rambled about how much you would enjoy her restaurant of choice, you couldn't help but succumb to the feeling of pure bliss.

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florencemtrash · 9 months

Text

Hummingbird: Chapter Six

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of violence and injuries

“Why didn’t you call me? Esto nunca debería haber sucedido.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Keep your eyes open ok?”

“Mantén los ojos abiertos. Stay awake, Y/n. Mantente despierto por mí.”

“Is she going to be ok?”

“What’s going on? What happened?!”

You forced your eyes open, blinking the sleep and time from them as your mind slowly worked to clear out the fog. Voices had murmured to you throughout your sleep, whispering words that sounded kind and gentle, but you couldn’t hold onto the specifics of what they said.

Pain shot through uncooperative arms when you tried to sit up in bed, grimacing at the gross taste in your mouth. How long had you been asleep for? The soreness in your back told you it had been a long time.

“Hey, kiddo. Might not want to try that.” Peter said as you struggled. His hand was strong against your back as you shifted restlessly. The sheets smelled of laundry detergent and lemons. Overhead the lights of the Spidey med bay hummed softly.

“Peter?” You muttered groggily. Your vocal cords were tight and gruff like a car engine that had been left idle for too long.

“The one and only!”

You finished clearing out your eyes and your voice. It was good to see a familiar face.

“How long have I been out? I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit too.” He said with a forced grin like he hadn’t just lost one of his best friends, “Do you remember what happened?”

You accepted the water he handed you, downing it in five seconds with a groan. Your hands and arms were wrapped like a mummy’s and you could feel the soft gauze rub against the sensitive skin beneath whenever you moved.

“Yeah… Yeah I think I do.” The IV drip, drip, dripped saline steadily into your arm, “How long have I been out, Peter? You never answered.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still wearing his pink bathrobe and matching slippers when Mayday was nowhere to be found. At this point fatherhood had become a new superhero role for him, so it made sense he should dress accordingly at work.

“Ten days?”

“Ten days?!” You sat up with a grimace, “Joder.”

Did someone call me out of work? God, I’m hungry. Isn’t Miles’s reference letter due soon? I need a shower. Fuck.

Peter held you down gently when you tried to roll out of bed. If Miguel discovered you’d gotten up on his watch, he’d never hear the end-

“You’re awake.”

Miguel’s frame filled the doorway, a small tray of food held within white-knuckled hands.

You were here. You were safe. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Shit. Peter B. spun around on his heels, letting you go and spreading his arms open wide like he’d just unveiled a marble statue at a ceremony.

“Surprise!” He sang, your irritated face appearing in Miguel’s vision from around Peter’s back.

You may have been the one to nearly die, but Miguel looked like he’d been put through the ringer. His red eyes were bloodshot and bruised, curls tousled, and shoulders slumped over like a deflated balloon.

“She’s awake! A real fighter, this one.”

Miguel stalked forward, sinking into the seat next to your bed that Peter had abandoned and sliding the tray of food in front of you. Everything about him spoke of exhaustion, but he hid it well as he pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling for a fever. His palm was warm, chasing away some of the pulsing pain in your head.

“How are you feeling?”

Peter B. pouted from behind Miguel. Hey, I’m here too! His expression said, drawing a small smile from you.

“Pretty terrible, I won’t lie. But at least I’m not dead.”

Miguel winced and fell silent. You regretted saying anything.

Peter fluttered around the room like a honey bee, chatting your ear off and taking the edge off of the tension that radiated from Miguel as he dutifully checked over your wounds. He barely said anything, only asking you to open your mouth so he could take your temperature or lift your arm so he could wrap the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.

Everyone had been worried about you, taking turns to sit at your bedside and wait for you to awaken (although the rotation was also made so that Miguel would be forced to take time to rest… He didn’t).

Even some of the Spiders you weren’t familiar with left behind cards and small stuffed bears - a consistent get well gift across universes, although Spider Cat did bring you a packet of catnip. They formed a small mountain of trinkets on the coffee table.

“We’ll leave you alone to rest.” Miguel said bluntly, stopping Peter’s rant in his tracks after seeing your eyes begin to glaze over and flutter shut.

“Oooof, sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. Hey! If you need anything, just call. I’m sure Miles will stop by later, but I told him you’d be upset if he skipped school. Oh! And I’ll bring Mayday with me next time I visit. She always makes people feel better. Doesn’t she, Miguel?”

Miguel’s neutral expression didn’t budge when Peter nudged him with an elbow. He only continued to herd Peter closer and closer out the door.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later!” Peter said, finally disappearing around the corner. Miguel huffed. Took him long enough.

“Wait!” You called out before Miguel could escape back to his office to brood. “Could-could you stay?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them and you cringed. You didn’t like to ask him for things but… considering the circumstances…

He walked back to you, rigidly sinking back into his seat and pushing the tray closer to you.

“You should eat. Build up your strength.” He said, clasping his hands tightly against his stomach as you hesitated and then began to eat ravenously.

He’d been in your position before - exhausted and confused and reeling from a near-death experience. A pit of shame formed in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to protect you from it. He’d been on edge ever since you’d joined Spider Society and he thought - he’d hoped - that by keeping you from the more dangerous corners of the multiverse, you’d never experience what you’d just gone through. First the incident with the Spot and now this...

“How bad was it?” You asked tentatively, poking at the leftover fries on your plate. You obeyed the comfortable stretch of your stomach, cautious of getting sick after not eating solid food for over a week. “How bad was I?”

“Pretty bad.” Miguel said gruffly and honestly, staring at a blank spot on the wall, “We didn’t think you’d make it for a while.”

You nodded. You remembered bits and pieces of the moment between sending the anomaly back to his dimension and passing out. The electricity flowing through your body had made your skin feel like it was being peeled off the bone, every nerve screaming out in pain until your brain had short circuited and shut itself off. You were lucky that the burns on your arms were all that remained.

“But I did.” You said, gently reminding him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t think… he couldn’t.

“Migs-”

The nickname threw him off guard. No one had called him that since his wife died.

He stood up so quickly the chair squeaked in protest.

“Get some rest, Y/n.” He said without looking at you, “Call if you need anything.” He tapped the touchscreen device he left on the table - his universe’s version of a cell phone - before striding out the door without another word.

You clenched your jaw and sank back into the pillows, part of you wishing you’d stayed asleep for a little while longer.

It took time for your body to feel like your own again. Most days you shouted at deaf limbs to move smoothly and carry things properly. Miguel had already written to Brooklyn Visions Academy about your medical leave of absence and had even gone so far as to visit your apartment to clean your kitchen and fridge while you remained bedridden at Spidey HQ. But for all the big and small ways he showed you that he cared, he neglected to do one thing - actually talk to you.

You shoved the sketchbook off the table, colored pens and pencils scattering on the floor as you dropped your head into your arms and silently screamed. Nearly a month after your injury and you still couldn’t quite hold things properly.

Your fine motor skills should return over time. Was what Dr. Parker had told you and the words should and time had been rattling around in your brain ever since.

Should or will? And how much time would it take?

“Fingers still not quite working right?” Hobie asked, leaning so far back in his seat with his legs propped up that he was nearly parallel with the floor. He held a tattered book in his hands, shifting colors with every page flip like the world’s worst chameleon.

“No.” You said, smoothing back your hair. You’d lost the bandages, but your skin was still tender to the touch in places and numb in others. Lichtenberg figure scars trailed up from your hands all the way to your collarbone, growing there like lichen on a tree. “It’s gotten better. A lot better. But it’s still not the same.”

“You’ll get there eventually.” Hobie said. He knelt on the floor and started to clean up the mess you had made, “Then you’ll be good as new.”

“How do you know?” You sighed, joining him.

He shrugged, “I don’t. But I was right before about you being able to send someone back to their own dimension without a watch. I’ve got a good feeling I’ll be right about this too.”

He offered you a small smile and a helping hand, both of which you accepted.

You spent the rest of the day together, joined by Peter, Gwen, and Miles who cheered you through your daily exercises. You were getting strong again, albeit slowly.

“I want to see you kiss the ground!”

“Show that stress ball who’s BOSS!”

“Yeah, THROW THAT DONGLE!”

“What did you just call-”

Miguel hovered by the door, never stepping foot into the training room with you in it. Never speaking to you, although he desperately wanted to. When you caught his eye, blinking in surprise as you kneeled in the training ring sweaty and tired, he bolted.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself as he strode to the office you’d affectionately coined his “vampire lair.” Although he’d kept his distance, he’d never left you alone. When you asked Peter about getting things from your apartment, he was the one who visited your dimension. When you initially had trouble walking after your injury, he was the one who tracked down the best physicians and physical therapist variants he could find. He was breaking protocol left and right to make sure you were ok and he knew it. But...

“Lyla, could you pull up the video?” She didn’t need to ask for clarification on which video. It was always the same one. Always the same happy memory, followed by a terrible and harsh reality.

Gabriella’s smiling face flashed on the screen, her bubbly laughter rising high above Miguel’s own baritone chuckle as she threw her arms around his shoulders and slapped that silly blue bow on his head. He’d taken that video to send to you after she scored the winning goal. You never made it to the game.

It was a painful reminder of everything that was at stake. He’d taken too many liberties, allowed himself to get too close to you. If he lost you like he’d lost Gabriella. He-

“Is that her?”

Miguel’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

“Is that Gabriella?” You asked, swallowing thickly as Miguel turned around, leaving the video paused on two smiling faces. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Yes.” He answered softly, guilt heavy on his voice as you moved closer and inspected the girl on screen.

Your breath caught in your throat, coming out as a strangled gasp.

She looked like Miguel… She looked like you…

“She’s got your smile.” You said softly, brushing away the unexpected dampness that had collected in your eyes.

You’d been frustrated all day. Frustrated at yourself for your slow healing and your uncooperative body. When you had come to Miguel’s lair it was with the purpose of yelling at him for not visiting, and part of you still wanted to do that. But seeing him vulnerable and tired in front of his daughter your daughter Gabriella had taken some of the fight out of you.

“I always thought she had yours. Well, the other-”

“I understand, Miguel.”

Silence stretched between you, tense and thin and waiting to be sliced through. You made the move.

“Why haven’t you visited me?” The words came out sharper, more accusatory than you’d expected them to.

Although Miguel flinched on the inside, he forced himself to take that pain and longing and shove it back into the little box he’d crafted for those feelings in the corner of his heart. The little box that you’d been steadily hacking away at from the very moment he met you.

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”

“Appropriate? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not appropriate for you to visit a friend?”

His jaw clenched at the word friend. It was a flimsy word, too weak to hold up all the feelings you held for each other. He ignored your question and barrelled through his next words, words that he’d been contemplating over the last month you’d been stuck in the med bay.

“Peter J. says you’re well enough to go back home and back to work if you feel ready. He wants you here every Wednesday at 7pm for the next six weeks-”

“You’re not answering my question-”

“I’ve got a write up for you to bring to any physician in your dimension-”

“Miguel, stop ignoring-”

“If you need documentation. In the meantime-”

“Y ni siquiera me estás escuchando-”

“I’m taking you off the team.”

You took a step back, the realization of what he’d just said hitting you like a slap. “What did you say?”

Miguel gritted his teeth, eyes sliding down to the floor so he wouldn’t have to see that quiet look of devastation on your face. You were having none of it, immediately getting close to him and pressing your hands against his chest. The pads of your fingers were delicate but forceful as they tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Miguel, look at me.” Quiet. Desperate.

“I’m taking you off the team.” He repeated, clenching his jaw so tightly he could feel the grinding of his teeth.

“What-why would-why?”

“You almost died, Y/n. That stunt of yours could’ve gotten you killed.”

“Stunt? Is that really what you’re calling it?”

“You’re not cut out for this.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

It was bullshit and he did know it.

“We couldn’t call you.” You prodded him with a finger, “We couldn’t trap him using the usual methods. We could barely hold him off long enough for anyone to come help. If I hadn’t done what I did, who the hell knows what would have happened? To Miles. To Gwen. To the millions of people living in New York. You need me Miguel, and not just for the superhero crap.”

What hadn’t occurred to you was that he knew exactly how much he needed you… and that was what terrified him so much.

“The decision’s been made, Y/n.”

“By you. So change it.”

“I’m not changing my decision.” Miguel growled, grabbing the hand that you’d been jabbing him with.

So this was the Miguel that everyone had told you about. Not the soft, brooding, sarcastic man you’d come to know. Not the Spider-Man whose humor revolved around making quippy comments. Not the Spider-Man who claimed to be the roughest and straight-laced of them all while still letting the cooks put his face on their signature burger. Not the smiling, laughing Miguel from the video with a blue bow in his hair.

No. This Miguel was short-tempered and hammered from steel.

So why did he still hold your hand so gently, clutching it to his chest like he wanted to keep you there?

He shrugged you off, finally closing the screen on the video of him and Gabriella. Something about that made your blood boil.

“So what now?” You seethed, refusing to let this go. Not even as his fingers started to fly over the keyboard and his mind struggled to go elsewhere.

“You can go home. You can go back to the med bay.”

You can stay here with me. You can help me get through all of this.

Miguel’s heart screamed at him. His brain screamed back so loudly he felt his hold on his emotions stretch to its breaking point.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Your voices had been steadily rising throughout the argument. So when his broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh, one hand coming up to rub at his temples, you thought you’d finally gotten to him.

“¡Dime la verdad, Miguel! Why are you taking me off the team?”

“I told you the truth earlier. You’re not cut out for this.”

“BULLSHIT!”

He slammed his hand down on the keyboard, cracking it in two and sending keys clattering to the floor.

“I’M NOT LOSING YOU!” He roared, eyes alight and burning like the sun itself. “Not again!” His eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t stand the sight of you, chest rising and falling with desperate gulps of air.

You stood there, lightly swaying on your feet like a boat caught in an unexpected storm.

“I am not your fucking wife.” Your voice cracked, “You didn’t lose me before and unless you tell me to walk out that door right now, you will never lose me. Ok? I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to.”

You expected something, anything, from Miguel. But after a minute of silence passed with him standing like a statue in front of you, you swallowed your tears before they could fall and blinked away.

It wasn’t your intention to go home. You’d planned to go back to the med bay, curl up, and sleep away your troubles before stealing a watch in the morning. But like a broken dam can’t hold back water, your emotions and powers couldn’t be contained.

When you looked around at your cleaned apartment, the faintest smell of Miguel’s cologne still stuck to the couch pillows, you sank to your knees and started to cry.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note:

Autumn is here! And the colder, somber atmosphere in the coffee shop today helped inspire this chapter. I had a plan for this fic... I abandoned it long ago. But, that being said, I hope to have things wrapped up in the next 2-3 chapters and to bring some closure to the first multi-chapter fic I will have ever truly completed.

As always, I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and that your Autumn drinks are tasting ✨delicious✨

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape. @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake @hyperfixationwho @corpsebridenightamare @mikeys-thighs

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel x spidersona #miles morales #gwen stacy #spider verse #atsv #hobie brown #peter b parker #angst

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sukibenders · 11 months

Text

consolation

FEATURING: percy jackson x reader

summary: y/n has been cooped up in their cabin for days, only leaving to attend breakfast and lunch at their siblings' insistence. it's not that they mean to, it's just that their art is doing anything but coming together as of late and it's making them doubt their abilities. good thing for them that their fantastic boyfriend is there to save the day!

contents: soft!percy, cute couple moments, possibly some angst in regards to self doubt but mainly fluff in the end, references to passing of time, worried!percy, gn!reader, no stated cabin or godly parent but mentions of siblings, percy referring to you as 'babe'

note" this is my first actual piece of written work on here, and it seemed fitting that it would be pjo related. I'm so nervous about it, so please be kind and give this some love! it's stated that the reader is in an art slump, and that's for the sake of the plot behind this so sorry to all those who aren't interested in the arts or things like that!

You would say that it wasn't a normal occurrence for you to compare yourself to others to anyone who asked, but you yourself knew that that simply wasn't true and, in this moment, were being proved wrong as you stared at the messy array of art supplies circling around you--from crumbled papers of failed sketches to messy rags layered with dried paint. While the mess was contained to your side of your cabin, you were sure that your siblings cautious of just how long that would last.

Your appearance faired no better. Your camp shirt was littered is paint marks from sloppy movements of your hands, the orange holding more life to it than the fresh canvas in front of you. Three had laid crestfallen along the floor, thrown down carelessly during fits of frustration after another failed attempt tallied in your mind. Just when you thought things where going to go smoothly, fate had other plans and took another direction. Maybe this was a sign of the Gods punishing you, but for what? You couldn't figure out.

The more you stared at the blank canvas, at the mess around you, the more dishearted you felt. Your mind wandered to a group of kids that you had seen at the arts and crafts center last week, some Apollo campers you had assumed, albeit bitterly, when your eyes fell on their stunning art pieces making it hard for you to look away. They were so beautiful and held your attention longer than you'd hope to admit outloud. You had desired to master a similar affect with your own piece. That did not seem likely.

"But they did it so perfectly," you muttered to yourself (more like growled), hands gripping your paint brush tightly to the point where you were sure that the wood would snap under the force. "I'm sure they didn't have to go through all this." Your brows furrowed and you were just about to give up when a familiar voice spoke up.

"Man, it looks like a hurricane rolled through here." You looked up and were met with a pair of sea green eyes, of which held a mirth to them that only increased tenfold when they landed on you. "Maybe I should take you to seek shelter, just to be safe."

This caused you to snort. "Haha, very funny. I know that, if ever in a hurricane, to simply call out your name and you'll be there to save me, won't you?"

"Always!" A toothy grin broke out over Percy's face and it was almost enough to draw you back from your creativity haze. But when your eyes drew back to the blank canvas, the sense of dismay returned. Subconsciously, your shoulders sagged in response, but you were none the wiser. Percy, however, being the attentive boyfriend that he was, took notice. "I take it things aren't going as planned?"

You shook your head. "That's an understatement. This is my third attempt so far, and I can't even put paint to the material. At least with the others I could say that."

Percy shifted forward, reaching for one of the lone canvases and studied it with interest. "This one is nice," he said honestly. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because it's bad." You answered simply.

But Percy didn't believe that. "No it's not, you're just being hard on yourself." Like always hung in the air, but it was moreso a thought of your own rather than Percy's himself. The inky haired boy gave you a brief once over, brows furrowed with tinges of worry. "When was the last time you took a break? Stepped outside for something other than going to the dining pavilion?"

You blinked for a moment, attention slightly divided between your boyfriend and the work before you. "Uh, I think it was like...yesterday, one of my siblings dragged me out to the strawberry field with them." Or, at least you thought it was yesterday.

But Percy shook his head. "That was Tuesday, babe, I asked one of your siblings. Today's Friday. We need to get you out of this cabin, doing something other than painting."

Slightly shocked by clarification, you body tensed at the thought of being pulled away from your workstation, especially so prematurely into your journey. If you stopped now, what was to say that you would ever finish? Or that this was possibly your last chance at recreating and if you left now, all that went down the drain.

"I can't." You sighed weakly, hurriedly drifting your eyes to your boyfriend, who you had just discovered, that you hadn't spent much time with at all during this week. "If I don't get this piece right now, I might never-"

Percy raised a brow in response of you cutting yourself off. "You might never what?"

With a frustrated and embarrassed sigh, you explained to him your dilemma and the set backs it had provided you, refraining from looking at him the whole time. A part of you had fear some sort of mockery or lack of understanding that conjured up a simple dismissal without actually helping. You had grown accustomed to that after a few occasions and, while you didn't believe Percy to be like, it still hovered in your mind.

To your surprise, though not really, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you so gently yet fiercely that you felted tethered and set free all the same. Your face subconsciously pressed into Percy's bicep and you inhaled his scent, feeling the burdens of the weight you had placed on yourself slowly slipping away one by one. Faint tears welled in your eyes, but he made no move to comment on them.

"I wished you'd came to me sooner, I could've helped you. While not with anything art related, because it would have ended poorly for the both of us, I could have been here to keep you company and show some support."

A small sound that was a mix between a cry and laugh bubbled from your throat. "I don't think I would have been much fun."

Percy snorted. "Please, we would've had the time of our lives here. You're siblings would have kicked me out and banished me from ever entering." While this drew another laugh from you, it wasn't hard to notice the seriousness enveloping the boy's tone. "I think you need a break, for real this time and with no objections."

"But-"

"This piece, can wait. You can't. So what if some other camper made a cool piece, that doesn't mean anything. It especially doesn't mean you're a bad artist just because you're having trouble recreating it." When you fell silent at his words, he rested his nose against your temple, breathing you in. "You're very talented, and that shouldn't be doubted."

A part of you wanted to argue, to say that he was only telling you that because you were dating, but the more you thought about doing anything other than laying in your boyfriend's arms, the more exhausted you felt. Maybe it was your sudden drop in weight, but Percy had maneuvered you around until you were far from the canvas that had been torturing you for hours and closer to your bed.

"Let's get you some rest, babe." He moved to lay you down when your hand reached out, stopping him. "Babe-"

"I got paint on your shirt." You said simply, eyeing how your, still paint riddled, fingers smeared over your boyfriend's tee from his abs to his side. You had been so wrapped up in savoring his embrace, that you had forgotten about your own mess clinging to your frame.

Rather than wallow in the new stain, Percy reached for a damp, less paint splattered cloth and held it to your face. "It's no big deal, but it will be if you get paint on your sheets. Let's get you cleaned up."

By the time he was finished, you were already dozing off no matter how much you tried to fight. Your body rocked and swayed softly, and the action only made Percy laugh even more. Resting you gently on to your bed, head braced against your pillow, the inky haired boy moved to stand when your hand latched around his wrist.

"Stay," You whispered, eyes hopefully. Even with how busy you made yourself, you had missed him deeply.

"I gotta clean up around here. Wouldn't want you to trip in this mess, now would you?"

This caused you to wave him off. "Ah, well you'll simply just have to take care of me again, which seems like a win if you think about it."

Percy chuckled. "Yeah, it does. And maybe I'm so inclined to be against it." He patted your side. "Move over, babe, I'm coming in."

You cheered softly, doing as told just enough for him to rest his frame an inch away from you before you practically melted into him, arms wrapped around his waist and face tucked under his chin. You could feel Percy's chest rumble in satisfaction before he followed a similar manner. The two of you laid like that for a few minutes before you whispered.

"I'm sorry for not spending time with you these last few days." You apologized. "I was just...so wrapped up in this project and my own thoughts that I lost track of time. It's no excuse, but-"

"It's all right," Percy cut in, shushing you softly as you tried to protest. He was in no mood for you to get worked up, especially over something that was so easily fixed and could be settled even further once you were rested. "I understand, and I'm not uupset. I missed you, for sure, but we'll find a way to spend time together later, once you've had a decent amount of sleep."

You nodded in agreement, a yawn pulling from your lips. "I propose a date, anywhere you'd like and we can do whatever you want. You deserve it."

"I don't think taking care of my partner necessarily guarantees a reward," Percy commented, watching with mirth as you sent an eye roll his way. "But I'll hold you to that deal later. Love you."

"Love you, too."

#percy jackson #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #x reader #percy jackson x black!reader #percy jackson x poc!reader #[🪐] - lunars writes

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duskymrel · 9 months

Text

TWST characters as different people i've seen at school

yes most of this is slander

Riddle: The kid who treated being line leader as though he had just been elected President of the United States of America

Ace: Would stand up in class and shout "FOR KOBE" and throw a piece of paper at the trash bin. Would completely miss.

Cater: Filming a fucking TikTok dance in the middle of the school hallway during class transitions. Fucking MOVE, i got places to be. (I walk directly though their tiktok and ruin it)

Trey: That kid who's birthday you know by heart and eagerly await every year because he brings in the BEST desserts. The good kush.

Deuce: Says the stupidest shit in class unironically. Other guys are confused as to how this makes him more endearing but girls fawn all over him.

Azul: Passes by his crush (Jamil) in the hallway and thinks blud will stop and fall madly in love with him at first sight and will declare his love to Azul and it'll be something straight out of a teen girl movie. It ends up playing out exactly like this video: https://www.tiktok.com/@irljigsaw/video/7232906141385215274?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc

Floyd: Kid who only likes Chemistry because he's crazy excited about mixing chemicals and setting things on fire. Anything he makes in a lab he loudly comments on how badly he want's to take a bit fat slurp/bite out of it. (it's me i do this)

Jade: One of the mushroom core girlies. Wears mushroom jewelry, has mushrooms patterns on his clothes, draws them for art class, draws them on his notebooks and binders. It's almost obnoxious but he's forgiven by everyone because he's hot.

Leona: Literally doesn't give a shit about school. Shows up in pajama bottom's and takes the fattest nap right in the middle of Geometry.

Jack: The only nice guy on the football team, girls LUST for him ❤

Ruggie: The only class this kid liked was free and reduced lunch (real)

Kalim: Guy who refuses to eat school food. He's probably got the right idea, that nacho cheese sauce probably causes cancer. Brings the most banger lunches and makes people jealous. (Lunchables, the GOOD fruit gummies, chips, a cookie, and a Caprisun.)

Jamil: In classes where you're not allowed to eat, he's the kid who sits in the back and makes a 9 course Gordan Ramsay approved gourmet meal.

Idia: This was so easy this guy was the anime weebo who wore anime merch every day and sometimes even wore anime wigs to school. He won't admit it but he would Naruto run through the halls in middle school.

Ortho: The cute little innocent babey schnookums who the girls all doted on. Hurt him and you'll get jumped by every girl in the student body. Fuck around and find out type shit.

Vil: Bozo who would literally paint their nails in class and would be doing their eyeliner while the teacher was trying to explain mRNA.

Epel: YEEHAW REDNECK KID. you know who i mean. the one who wears a hat with the American flag on it every day and whenever the teacher tells them to take it off they go on a rant about how unpatriotic the teacher is.

Rook: The only kid who actually liked French class. Tries to rizz people up in the hallway and asks for their Snap but always fails. Maidenless behavior.

Malleus: The tall quiet emo kid who slumps in his chair on his phone, with the bottom resting on his belly. He looks like he's listening to edgy emo music but it's actually tooth rotting cheesy pop music

Lilia: The manic pixie dream girl who will spew the most wise sage advice when asked.

Sebek: Literally one of those girls who's attached to her boyfriend like a parasite. You cannot separate her. Overly loyal and won't stfu. Is like a mix between a golden retriever and a chihuahua.

Silver: I swear on my life he's one of the kids who's been adopted by his entire friendgroup. People love him he's just a likeable person. He makes a new friend and BOOM they've adopted him. You're my son now, boy.

--------

@heartscrypt i thought specifically of you while writing Azuls

anyways all of these are people i've known i've got irl sources for this. no i won't apologize for all the slander because it's funny.

#twisted wonderland #twst funny #twst #twst dorm leaders #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #azul ashengrotto #vil shoenheit #kalim al asim #idia shroud #dusky writes #leona kingscholar #floyd leech #lilia vanrouge #disney twst #twst slander

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ithseem · 6 months

Text

Regrets

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of bullying, fighting, blood and bruises (nothing too graphic). Also not proofread or beta read. Proceed at your own risk.

Deuce sat down on the swing with a heavy sigh. He absently looked around at the newly renovated playground as he rocked back and forth slightly. The paint job on the walls and playground equipment did well to cover all the graffiti that blemished them. Much, if not, all of that "artwork" was done by him and his gang of delinquents. He also noticed that most of the damaged equipment was replaced. The rest of them had been recently removed. There was an ache in his chest as he took in the scene. He remembered how much he loved to come to this park with his mother as a child. All the memories of him happily playing through the park were tainted by his actions and the lens he viewed them from.

It looked like there was going to be a downpour soon, but there was too much on Deuce's mind to care at the moment. And it didn't help that he felt like there was a lead weight attached to his waist.

Just today he had terrorized some poor kid for his money along with his cronies, but for some reason, the feeling of glee had fully evaded him. He felt almost... sorry for them. The look of terror on their face had awoken... something within him. Not that he'd ever voice it to his buddies. He knew well that if he did, they'd either agree and go for bigger prey, or accuse him of "being a wuss," or something along those lines. He didn't care to deal with either outcome. So instead he had feigned that sense of glee. He'd daresay he overdid it when he picked a fight with a thug who'd crossed him later that day. He emerged victorious, but he did end up with a few bruises and a bloodied nose. Despite subconsciously knowing that the encounter was pointless, he kept up with his mirthful facade until he and his cronies had parted ways.

His mood had already been damp by time he arrived home, but what he saw in the dining room made his heart sink to his feet. There his mother sat at the table, shoulders slumped and with one hand holding up her forehead as if she had a headache. The other hand pressed he phone against her ear. He took a closer look at her and noticed she was weeping.

"I don't know where I went wrong, mom," She paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. "He used to be such a sweetheart..."

Mom? Deuce almost wanted to say. It didn't look like she noticed him coming inside. He stayed quiet to listen in on the conversation.

"What am I doing to do?..."

His grandmother's silence on the other side of the line told him everything. He couldn't face her now. Not like this, anyway, so he tiptoed back outside for some air.

Now here he was, sitting on the swing, staring morosely into the distance. The sight of his mother crying to his grandmother was something that would haunt him for a long time. He knew subconsciously for a while that he couldn't continue down this path of delinquency, and the series of events that happened today cemented that so firmly. With a deep breath, he vowed to leave behind that path. To himself. To his mother. To anyone who watched him grow up. Never again will he upset the ones he loves.

...

Drip.

"Better get home before I catch a cold," Deuce said to himself. "Mom's gonna worry."

Here I am, now back again with some Twisted Wonderland fan art and a ficlet to go with it. I spent an OBSCENE amount of time writing and drawing this, so I hope you enjoyed it. Reblog if you did. Or don't. idk

#ithseem's arts and crafts #ithseem writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fan art #twisted wonderland fanfiction #deuce spade #twisted wonderland deuce #heartslabyul #lofi art #lofi aesthetic #lofi illustration

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aagiijxbls · 7 months

Text

Fever

Finished art and chapter one.

Feel free to not read the below and just enjoy the comic panels.

No smut in this chapter. Will come later if I can be bothered to finish it.

Bucky was blindsided by one of them hiding behind the door he had kicked in. He didn't catch the movement quick enough and a sharp stinging exploded in his neck.

He twisted and put his hand over his neck as the guy stumbled backwards with an empty syringe in his hand.

Bucky gave him a right hook that had his head smacking into the wall, the man slumped to the ground unconscious.

Bucky got back to his room and Steve was sitting on the couch reading a book. He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked it towards the bedroom before crawling onto the couch. He was exhausted.

He let himself fall so that his head was on Steve's lap. Steve closed the book and put it on the armrest, he looked down at Bucky

"Are you okay?"

Bucky nodded against Steve's thigh, his whole body relaxing against the larger man under his head.

"Just tired"

Steve put one hand through Bucky's hair and the other draped across his shoulder.

"Need anything?"

Bucky relaxed into Steve's touch and breathed in deeply before exhaling his reply

"Just you"

A small smile appeared on Steve's face and he ran his fingers over Bucky's scalp

"I'm not going anywhere"

Steve brushed the hair back from Bucky's forehead and as his hand touched the skin he frowned.

He placed his hand flat against Bucky's forehead and the frown deepened.

"Buck, you have a fever…"

Bucky laughed with a puff of air leaving his nose

"Yeah, okay"

Steve shifted a little, his hand still on Bucky's forehead, he moved his other hand and placed two fingers against his pulse.

"No really Buck, you have a fever. Your pulse is elevated"

That Bucky knew, he could feel it thrumming in his veins but chalked it up to whatever sedative they'd injected him with.

Steve's fingers left Bucky's neck for a moment before they touched his collar and shifted it out of the way. Steve saw the pinprick mark on his neck, his eyebrows knitting together in concern

"Did you get injected with something?"

Bucky waved his hand in a dismissive gesture

"Sedative, probably why I'm so tired."

"No, you're tired because you're sick"

Bucky huffed a sigh, he was too tired to argue. He turned his head and pressed it into the crook of Steve's hip. Steve's hand immediately went to the back of Bucky's head, his fingers scratching lightly against his skull.

The world washed away in that moment, with his head pressed into Steve all light in the room was blocked out and he was swimming in contended darkness.

"Buck"

Steve spoke softly, his voice lowered to a patient and caring timbre. His fingers trailing lightly up and down Bucky's spine while the other carded through his hair.

"We need to know what they injected you with. Will you let me take you to medical?"

Bucky's left arm moved from its position at his side and grabbed the bottom of Steve's shirt, holding it lightly in his fist but pulling down just enough that Steve knew he wasn't about to move anywhere.

"Okay, well we do need to draw some blood. Will you let me call someone up here?"

Bucky took a deep breath and gave a lazy nod. He knew Steve wouldn't drop this until he knew that whatever was running through his veins wasn't life threatening. It was easier to get it over with, but he wasn't willing to move in order to do so.

He thought fleetingly about how childish he was acting, but when Steve spoke the fingers dancing against his spine increased in pressure just a little and Bucky's mind blanked out and he let himself fall into the touches.

"Jarvis, can you send someone to draw bloods please?"

"Of course, Captain"

A light knock came at the door and Bucky came crashing back down into himself. He was suddenly hyper aware of how close he was to Steve. How exposed he felt being seen like this. He was the protector, always had been and he had let himself burden Steve with a cold.

Steve saw Bucky's body stiffen, he could feel the muscles in his jaw clench against his thigh and the fabric of his shirt tightened inside Bucky's fist.

"Hey, it's okay"

Steve pressed a firm hand between his shoulder blades, his thumb moving up and down in a soothing motion

"They will be gone in a few minutes. Do you want me to move?"

Bucky's left hand closed impossibly tighter, pulling the fabric of Steve's shirt closer to his face.

No, he didn't want Steve to move. He took a silent breath and reminded himself that this was okay. Allowing himself to accept comfort was okay.

"Don't leave"

His voice was small, barely audible but Steve heard it and the hand on his back pressed firmly down.

"Jarvis, open the door please"

The latch clicked and Bucky pressed his head further into Steve in an attempt to hide himself.

The man who entered the room was average in every way possible. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height and weight. Steve recognised his face from around the complex but had never interacted with him.

The man approached them and put his kit down on the coffee table, he knelt in front of the couch and unlatched the case. He pulled on gloves and withdrew a syringe.

"Sergeant Barnes, can you please rotate your arm for me?"

Bucky turned his arm outward and the man tied a tourniquet around his bicep, once it was in place Bucky clenched his fist a few times.

The man inserted the syringe, removed the tourniquet and took four vials of blood, he placed them carefully into his case.

He picked up a cotton ball with a piece of tape but stopped and stared at them for a moment, his eyes flicking to Bucky's arm. The blood had almost immediately stopped flowing when he pulled the syringe out, the super soldier probably didn't need a band-aid. His eyes moved to the Captain and he gave a soft smile and a small shake of his head.

"Thank you, I'll take these to the lab."

He left swiftly with a courteous nod.

Bucky pulled his right arm under him, his body turning so he was laying on his side but still pressed tightly against the angle of Steve's hip.

"Do you want to lay here for a bit or should we move to the bed?"

Bucky took a moment to respond.

He was so tired that he didn't want to move but he also wanted a blanket over him.

"Bed"

He rolled onto his back, eyes still closed and Steve leant down placing a kiss against his forehead.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?"

Bucky opened his eyes to see the playful smile dancing across Steve's lips.

"Shut up"

Bucky lifted himself up to a sitting position but when he got upright his head swirled and dizziness darkened his peripheral vision.

He swayed a little and Steve pressed up against him, a hand planted firmly on his back and the other at his waist.

Bucky settled into the touch as his vision cleared

"I'm okay"

He turned himself and started to stand, Steve was moving with him, touching but not assisting and Bucky was grateful for that.

Standing up straight Bucky moved past Steve toward the bedroom. Steve was in step right behind him, his hands firm on his shoulders massaging lightly and it took all of Bucky's strength not to fall back into him. He wanted to feel Steve against his back, wanted him to wrap his arms around his chest and pull him close.

A small shuddered breath passed Bucky's lips and Steve's hands tightened on his shoulders. They passed through the doorway to the bedroom and Bucky was about to let himself collapse onto the mattress but Steve stopped walking and his hands kept Bucky standing in place.

Steve stepped into Bucky's space and pressed himself into his back, his arms snaking down and circling his waist, tugging him gently back into him fully. Bucky hummed a happy sigh as Steve rested his chin on his shoulder, his face slightly turned inward so Bucky could feel his warm breath against his throat as he spoke.

"I'm going to get this gear off of you and then you can sleep, Okay?"

Bucky could only nod, his head lolled back against Steve's shoulder and his eyes drifted closed. With Steve at his back he felt he could fall asleep right there.

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky's throat and then his arms moved away from his waist. His fingers working deftly over the buckles on his tac vest. He stepped back to remove it but Bucky didn't even have enough time to complain before Steve was pressed back up against him again.

Steve's hands settled on Bucky's hips, the thumb of his right hand slipped under his shirt and gave a soft stroke against his skin before they moved to his belt.

Bucky let more of his weight fall back against Steve's solid frame as he pulled the buckle free, his fingers popping open the button on his pants and pulling the zipper down.

Steve flattened his hands against Bucky's sides and slid his fingers under the waistband of his pants and slid them down his hips, once they got over his thighs they fell just above his knees.

"Sit down on the bed"

Bucky lifted his head from Steve's shoulder, he took a step forward and turned in Steve's arms plonking himself gracelessly down onto the mattress.

He wanted so badly to fall onto his back but Steve bent into his space, his hands went to either side of his neck he placed a couple of light kisses across his face before he knelt on one knee to undo the laces on his boots.

Bucky felt a warmth spread across his cheeks as they flushed pink. He felt self conscious and exposed, the tenderness of Steve's touch caused a twinge of guilt to radiate from his core. He had to remind himself that if Steve didn't want to do this he wouldn't be, stubborn as he was.

But Bucky couldn't help the way his nerves twitched and burned, telling him that he didn't deserve this.

Steve pulled his boots off and placed them under the bed, he lifted his head and Bucky felt his cheeks flush darker. The smile that graced Steve's face was gentle and loving, his eyes soft as he captured Bucky's gaze.

Steve caught the slight panic in Bucky's expression, he dropped the eye contact before Bucky could and pulled his pants off completely.

He stood and turned to the dresser leaving Bucky sitting on the bed in black briefs and a t-shirt.

"Do you want sweats and a hoodie?"

Bucky pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor

"Just a hoodie"

There was brief pause before he added quietly

"The blue one"

Steve smiled to himself, the blue hoodie in question was his own, one that he'd had for many years. It'd been stretched out and had a couple holes forming from continuous use, but the comfort it brought wouldn't allow him to throw it out.

Steve pulled it from the draw and refrained from tugging it over Bucky's head, he figured dressing him would be pushing it a little too far. He could feel Bucky's anxiety and the last thing he wanted was for him to withdraw back into himself.

He handed Bucky the faded blue fabric and watched as he pulled it over his head, the hood sat lopsided covering a quarter of his face. As he poked his arms through the sleeves Steve couldn't stop the affectionate smile from creeping onto his face.

That hoodie was large on him but on Bucky it was atleast two sizes too big.

And it was ridiculous to think about how small and fragile it made Bucky look, considering this man was quite possibly to deadliest human on Earth.

The fabric absolutely swam on him and it reminded Steve of when all of their clothes never quite fit right.

Bucky wrapped his arms around himself and yawned, his eyes closing as he sucked in a deep breath.

Steve took a few steps forward so he was standing in front of him, he reached his hand out and placed it against Bucky's cheek.

Bucky opened his eyes slowly and met Steve's soft gaze

"Time to sleep"

Bucky lent into Steve's touch as his eyes slipped shut again

"Are you staying?"

His voice was quiet as exhaustion seeped through him and Steve felt a surge of love for him spread throughout his body, he wanted to smother Bucky in his arms and kiss every place he could reach.

"Of course"

Bucky hummed a quiet sound of thanks and turned away from Steve to crawl under the covers. He felt the mattress dip behind him as Steve settled at his back, one arm folding around his waist and the other stretched out under his neck. Steve pulled him close and Bucky curled into the embrace, his hands fisted in the long sleeves of Steve's hoodie.

#stucky comic #stucky fanart #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #wintershield #steve and bucky #fanfic

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