#and i walk home emptyhanded. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

could i request the bishops + lambert with a rat reader that's a master thief, but is from a place where the old faith didn't have a really tight grasp so the reader hasn't really ever heard of the cult or the old faith?

Leshy

Being a master thief has gotten you surprisingly far in life, stealing things from berry seeds to bags of gold. Enough to comfortably get by. You're just very stealthy in all you do.

When you visited Darkwood for the first time, it was fairly easy sneaking around by using the trees and bushes as cover.

You were practically invisible to the average person and not even the Droppers noticed you.

Unfortunately, the worms beneath your feet sensed you wandering too close to Leshy's temple to their liking, being quick to inform their leader of your intrusion.

You ended up facing him, and his first accusation was that you were stealing for Lamb's cult.

Imagine his confusion when you respond with "who?"

He thinks you're playing dumb, though you sound dead serious when you claimed not to know who they were....nor did you know who he was.

"I am Bishop Leshy of Darkwood! Bearer of the chaotic Green Crown! Everyone in the Old Faith knows my name!" He boasts, thinking this will somehow jog your memory.

But the truth is that where you're from, the Old Faith's gospel didn't really latch onto your society. So you knew nothing of the bishops, nor their war with the Lamb's cult.

Your only interest is the price Leshy paid for that Green Crown.

Despite feeling insulted, he decides to let you go since you aren't allied with Lamb (plus as the youngest bishop he didn't rly know what to do with an outsider like yourself).

He only demands that you never returned, lest you be strung up in the trees or buried six feet under.

You just took some souvenirs in the form of gold nuggets and pretty little worm skulls for the journey home.

Kallamar

The worm's more paranoid brother, on the other hand, had his fair share of outsiders trying to weave their way into the cult...

Only to snatch up glowing crystal clusters and raid shipwrecks for treasures.

Midas was one such thief until he was banished for redistributing the treasures and acting like a "god of fortune" to clueless followers.

Anchordeep has a law forbidding followers from selling crystals for profit and trespassing onto shipwrecked areas.

In his realm, the punishment fits the crime as it consists of the accused's hands being infected with some disease--ranging from severe itching to boils....or even necrosis.

You're totally unaware of this law (not that you'd care about the law to begin with) and go about your thievery business like usual.

Somehow you avoided alerting Kallamar--even tricking him into falsely accusing others of stealing crystals--but he eventually found out and had you brought to his palace for interrogation.

Even though you tell him you've never heard of the Old Faith nor his laws, he's certain you're just making excuses.

"It's just common sense...you don't walk into someone's house and just take whatever you want!!" He snaps.

While he's generous not to punish you with necrosis or boils...your hands are left constantly itchy for several days, persisting even after you returned home emptyhanded. They ached and hurt all over.

You didn't realize you damn near scratched your own skin off until you noticed blood under your nails.

Heket

You'd think there wouldn't be much to steal in swampy, humid, smelly Anura. But you were quite wrong.

Back at home, your folks got shipments of menticide mushrooms (which are a delicacy as both a soup and, of course, hallucinogens).

They never got spores to grow their own supply, though, and lately Anura's trades have been lackluster.

So you decided to travel there and do some "charity work" with your master thief skills. Plus find a few keepsakes along the way.

Besides the mushrooms, nobody in your village knew much about this domain....nor were you aware of its arrogant amphibian ruler.

You were in cahoots with Sozo's followers, visiting their grotto and camping grounds, stealing heaps of shrooms for them in exchange for gold and tarot cards.

Ofc you'd pocket some of the spores for yourself.

Eventually your thievery was discovered after a Mushroomo accidentally sold you out to Heket while they were high, leading to her finding and interrogating you.

She blatantly accuses you of stealing for Lamb...but is taken aback when you admit to not knowing them, the bishops, or the Old Faith.

"Your folks have traded with Anurians for ages....yet you know not of our religion??"

"Some of the elders have, but none of your "doctrines" really stuck around for long."

Heket finds this revelation most puzzling, but in her confusion you flee her temple, and she barks at the guards to stop you.

Fortunately for you, no frog there could leap fast enough to keep up.

Shamura

Of all four rulers, this wise old spider had the greatest understanding that the Old Faith's gospel cannot touch every bit of land out there..

It's simply impossible for everyone in the world to know about it (let alone conform to its teachings) even if all their followers combined went on missionaries to spread the word.

That being said, they weren't completely alarmed when the bugs informed them that they caught an outsider--specifically a thief, aka you.

You were hoping to take some prized pieces of pottery and gold, but you got caught in a trap and busted big time.

Normally you're fearless, but being face-to-face with the Bishop of War while being webbed up in a silk cocoon (and seeing similar victims strung-up on the ceiling of the temple) had you scared shitless.

You were 100% convinced that Shamura was going to dissolve your guts into acid and feast on your corpse.

And yet...they spoke to you rather calmly, curious about your place of origin rather than angry over your thievery.

They ask you different things about your village, what religion it follows, how much it knows of the OF, etc.

Their followers kept reminding them that you're a criminal and should be prosecuted as such.

Eventually they do, but instead of death you're given a chance to earn your freedom by participating in a fighting pit.

Somehow you win and get to take all of the loser's money.

Lamb

First, they notice their offerings mysteriously vanishing from the shrines around the cult.

Then they realized all the gold bars made from their refineries were suddenly gone, the chests completely empty.

When they mentioned this during a sermon, half their followers are confused...while the other half began pointing fingers at each other and start arguing.

Lamb sees them accusing each other all the time of stealing, so he usually takes the accuser's word for it and puts the suspect in the pillory for a little while.

But things get messy as the problem continues and they're running out of materials to build pillories with.

They'd rather not be chastised by the One Who Waits for causing such discord in his cult, so they temporarily halt their crusades and investigate.

Eventually, Lamb discovers it's been you all along, but since you're a rat...for a moment they believed you were related to Ratau and Ratoo.

You don't know who tf they are..nor were you aware that you've been stealing from a cult.

Honestly, they're impressed that you managed to evade them for this long, but displeased with the fact your actions nearly tore apart their entire following.

Since you aren't affiliated with the Old Faith, they don't punish you harshly, yet want you to understand there's consequences.

Your sentence is community service for a day and apologizing to every follower.

It's humbling as hell, but you get through it and Lamb lets you take some treasures home.

#clanask #anonymous #cotl x reader #cult of the lamb x reader #bishop kallamar #bishop shamura #bishop leshy #bishop heket #thief reader #cotl lamb #headcanons #platonic

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pouringmyheartoutforpaper · 2 years

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it’s midnight and i just. i have this stuck in my head.

steve who’s used to every little disagreement turning into a big fight so he snaps/yells at reader and when they don’t return that fight and just kind of shutdown steve panics and feels so so guilty

my love you hit me in the soft spot. i cry so hard whenever anyone even slightly yells at me.

tw: not a lot but i thought id put one to make sure everyones safe <3: bit of a disagreement, reader with vague past relationship trauma if you squint, sensitive reader, anxious reader, oblivious steve, in love steve, steve in general. if anything from above is something you cant handle right now thats perfectly okay and ill see you next time!

steve is very very very gentle. hes calm and collected and mostly rational. so arguments are extremely rare.

but today steve was tired. oh so tired. and he missed you. so much. so when you were being almost silent on the car ride home from the bi-weekly dinner with the kids, robin and eds, he was freaking out.

the waitress was very subtly flirting with him. in a way where only the girls at the table knew what was going on.

of course steve had no interest in her, for gods sake. he didnt even look at her for more than two seconds.

you werent mad at him. no, he handled it very well. he passed all the tests. you were just sad. comparing yourself to the blonde waitress. thinking about how many people want him that you dont even know about. the little voice in your head saying “why does he want you?” and looking for signs of infidelity, coming back emptyhanded as always, shamefully reminding you that hes not your past relationships.

so no you werent mad at him. you were mad at you.

but we all know hes a little bit… slow sometimes. so that doesnt even occur to him.

what if you lost interest in him? what if you think hes annoying? why are you mad at him?

his fears only heightening when you give him a small smile when he opens the front door for you, instantly heading to the kitchen to get some water, hoping itll make you feel better.

“whats your problem tonight?”

oh.

“…what?” and you stare directly down at the countertop because you can already feel yourself tearing up at his tone.

“what do you mean ‘what?’. youve been acting weird since we left.”

he really doesnt mean for it to sound so angry, if you listened a little closer you might be able to hear the desperation in his voice.

“…the waitress”

“what?”

“she was flirting with you.

“what?”

he throws his head back and puts his hands to his face in exasperation. before realizing that youre a little too quiet… and shaking?

his tone brought back memories and fear. fear that he would just find someone else since you were bothering him. and youd be left alone again, but only this time unable to pick up the pieces.

and now hes horrified because he didnt mean to sound angry, he was just frustrated and didnt even think about how sensitive his girl was to things like that.

but you were too far gone now. your ears ringing and your breath escaping you. fighting back tears with every bone in your body, and losing said fight.

and so you turned around to look at him. and your eyes betray you once more. instantly filling with tears that make steves face drop and heart fall.

“m’sorry steve” but your voice falters and breaks before the first sob racks through your body, walking as quickly as you can to his bedroom to clean yourself up.

HES FREAKING OUT SO BAD

he feels absolutely awful. poor man starts crying too, but makes himself stop for his apology, not wanting to scare you further.

following behind you and knocking on his own door.

“babydoll, can i come in?”

youre standing in front of his mirror. eyes puffy and red and shaking. you knew steve wouldnt leave. you knew he wasnt like that. but you were crying anyways, which only made you cry more out of embarrassment.

“…yeah” you call weakly, still not looking up as he opens the door.

his arms are around you instantaneously

“‘m so sorry baby i didnt mean to sound angry, i wasnt thinking. im sorry.”

“its okay, im sorry i-”

“no, you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re allowed to get sad. theres nothing wrong with it, id never judge you for that. i was just being… stupid cause i didnt get it y’know? i mean i literally am horrifyingly in love with you. im like obsessed with you… not in a weird way…. anyways! and i get jealous all the time. like everyday, even over small things. that barista the other day? coulda killed that guy. y’had me studying how to make lattes babe.”

and of course youre giggling. his polo shirt saturated with tears and pure joy.

“i love you so much.”

“i love you most. i know you dont really think id look at anyone but you, right? but if you need confirmation i will go and take back the tip we gave that lady.”

more giggles.

and that was the difference. steve embraced your sensitivity. he loved it actually. loved the way you care about things. love the way you pick up on energies before anyone else. loves everything about you. including some of the not so pretty things.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve x reader #steve x you #steve harrington fluff #steve h #dove and steve

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abiiors · 1 year

Note

hiii, could i request prompts 44 n 54?? thank youuu<3

“If you walk out that door, then we’re done.” & “The stars will go out before I could ever forget you.”

Kinda woke up feeling a bit sad today so now you will have to suffer through the angst, I'm afraid. Also, she's quite short.

The Rooftop

The rooftop is cold tonight.

The fur coat you have on is barely enough to warm you up but half of that is through no fault of the weather.

‘This is it, you know,’ Matty calls out from his spot making you halt in your steps, ‘if you walk out that door then we’re done,’ he smiles, stating the obvious.

Why has the night turned out this way? You search through the jumbling thoughts in your head, try to focus on one specific event through the ringing in your ears.

You turn around to look at him one last time, perhaps the last time. His shirt is untucked, the collar open wide and askew. The tie he was wearing at the beginning of the night is now stuffed awkwardly in his pocket, bits of it hanging out. His eyes are flat, emotionless; filled with the blankness of acceptance.

‘We have been done for a long time now,’ you point out, ‘This is just a formality.’ It’s not meant with animosity or as an accusation. It just is. A fact.

You rake your brain for a reason, for one distinct point in time when things went sour. But you come up emptyhanded. Except there are the nights; nights full of passion spent intertwined in his arms, nights full of loneliness spent sobbing into his pillows. The highs that were so high that you couldn’t think straight for weeks. The lows that would pummel you straight into the depths of despair.

‘A formality?’ he laughs and throws his head back for one brief second. The skin of his neck is exposed, pale and still glistening from all the tears shed earlier. And there were many. You’ve never seen a man go through all five stages of grief so fast. So fast that they blend in together, chaotic and out of order.

Even now, even this rhetorical question. What is it if not a form of bargaining?

Stay longer and answer pointless questions for me. Stay longer and talk to me, yell at me. Just stay.

‘Why delay the inevitable?’ you shrug.

‘Will you really go without giving me one last kiss?’ he jokes. It’s his usual mechanism at play, humour to cover up the sound of his heart breaking in two. Cruel laughter and sarcasm to mask the heartbreak.

‘And then when that kiss turns into more?’ you ask, ‘and when I fall into your bed for just one more night? Because it always is just one more night, isn’t it? We are always doomed to repeat the cycle, aren’t we?’

The wind picks up, making ghoulish sounds to fill in the empty spaces of your conversation.

‘And so we just forget about us?’

You laugh drily. This is perhaps the first petulant statement he’s made tonight, you’ll give him that. But there it is. ‘That’s the plan, yeah,’ you shrug with as much casualness as you can muster.

‘The stars will go out before I could ever forget you,’ he whispers in his drunk voice. Matty Healy has always been poetic, always had a way with words. But you’ve never doubted his words before. Never before.

You smile sadly at him, finally unable to control the welling tears and look up at the sky. You have spent the entire night on this rooftop and now dawn breaks over the horizon. Winks out the stars one after the other after the other as the sky turns pink.

‘Goodbye, Matty,’ you close one hand over the door handle, clutching it tightly for support.

But you linger. Unable to simply just go.

‘Will you at least text me when you get home safely?’ he asks in a hoarse voice and fidgets with his lighter, about to light another cigarette. His shoes scuff against the floor creating faint lines in the dust.

Home, You think to yourself, some cold, expensive hotel room. White and grey, full of flat, steely surfaces and perfectly made beds. Just one toothbrush in the bathroom, just one towel.

‘I’ll text you when I get back home,’ you nod. It’s not illegal for exes to care about each other’s basic safety, is it?

‘And will you?’ Matty lights the cigarette in his hands, ‘go home?’

So this is what it has come to. Thinly veiled questions that mean something else entirely and none of you can bring yourselves to say what’s truly in your heart.

‘I will,’ you smile, finally open the door and step out, ‘I’ll find my way home eventually. Someday.’

-----

(Not writing part 2 for this)

#✉️#♤: matty blurbs #matthew healy #matty healy #matthew healy x reader #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #just angst #angst fic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty the 1975 #matty healy imagine #matty x reader #angst writing #the 1975 fic #the 1975 asks

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fetusharryluvr · 1 year

Text

i’maceleb!universe starving

y/n and harry discuss what food they’d eat if they were back at home!

You leaped up from the log you were sat on as soon as you heard the phone ringing, meaning Mike and Baba had completed the Deals On Wheels challenge. You had this sort of rota in camp about who would answer the call at which time, and today it was your turn.

You hurriedly opened up the door to the telephone box, bringing the phone straight to your ear, “Hello?”

“G’day, celebrities. Babatunde and Mike have completed today’s Deals On Wheels challenge.”

“They’ve done it!” You poked your head out of the door, giving the rest of your campmates a big thumbs up.

“In order to win, you must answer the following question correctly - what number in line to the throne is Zara Tindall? A, 14. B, 17. C, 20.”

You repeated the question and the three options, hanging the phone over your shoulder. Seann furrowed his brow, “Who’s Zara?”

“Mike’s wife!” Sue tutted.

“Oh, shit!”

You immediately shook your head, “I couldn’t tell you.”

After about 10 minutes of counting all the possible royals and squabbling about what the answer could be, your campmates eventually landed on B - 17. You made sure that everyone agreed before telling Kev the answer and hanging up the phone.

“God, I hope we got it right, ‘m starving.” You spoke, leaving the phone booth and sitting down on the log beside Harry.

“Me too.” The tatted brunette sighed, reaching down to tie the shoelaces on his boots. “What would you eat right now? If you could have anything?”

“Oh, god.” You rested your chin on your hand and pursed your lips in thought. Anything. “Y’know what, a roast. Literally nothing beats a roast dinner with all the trimmings.”

Harry’s eyes lit up at the thought, “What would you have with it?”

“Oh my god,” You breathed, drawing a picture in your head. “Chicken, roasties, yorkshires, carrots, broccoli, pigs in blankets—”

“Woah, woah,” Harry cut you off with his jaw hung low, like someone had just told him santa wasn’t real, “Pigs in blankets? They’re for Christmas!”

You immediately shook your head. “No way, they are way too good to only eat one day a year! They deserve to be appreciated all year round.”

“Nope, I’ve got to disagree. That is crazy.” He spoke.

“They’re back!” You heard someone call, prompting everybody’s heads to turn to the entry to camp. In came walking Mike and Babatunde - emptyhanded.

HARRY BUSHTELEGRAPH:

“We’re a bit shit at these questions, aren’t we?” He smiled into the lens.

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smartycvnt · 6 months

Text

Bitter

Title: Bitter

Pairing: Sheva Alomar x Reader

Word Count: 713

Y/n knew that her arrival in Africa was sure to stir up something. She'd been avoiding the entire continent for years. She had left her home years ago, fully prepared to never return. It wasn't ideal, but Y/n knew it was necessary to avoid Sheva. She could handle any of the monsters that the world wanted to throw at her, but Y/n would never be ready to face Sheva again.

There weren't enough near-death experiences to numb Y/n to the nerves that she felt as she approached the rendezvous point. Her heart was practically trying to pound its way out of her chest. The desert area should have made Y/n felt like she was home again, but it didn't. She had been longing for the conditions of her homeland for far too long.

"Right this way. Director Alomar will brief you on the situation." Y/n nodded as she walked down the corridor she'd been directed towards. Each step felt like a step towards her fate being sealed. She would be trapped in a room with Sheva and forced to see whether or not it really would be the thing to do her in.

"Y/n, you came." The surprise in Sheva's voice didn't go unnoticed by Y/n. Sheva had obviously expected Y/n's personal feelings about the woman to drown out her sense of duty and professionalism. Y/n couldn't blame her for thinking that way, especially not whenever Y/n had abandoned her during a mission when they had their falling out.

"It's a bit hard to ignore an order coming from so high up," Y/n admitted as she sat down in one of the leather chairs across from Sheva's desk. "What do you need from me?"

"Before we talk about the mission, I want to make sure that we are on the same page about things." Y/n didn't need to even look at Sheva to know that they weren't going to be discussing the briefing for some time. It was understandable for Sheva to want confirmation that Y/n wouldn't just up and leave again, but Y/n needed Sheva to own up to what she did. Otherwise, they'd be running in the same damn circle for years and years to come.

"What exactly is there to talk about?" Y/n asked. Sheva sighed as she leaned forward with her elbows on the desk. There was a moment of silence where the two women stared each other down. Y/n hadn't noticed how hard the climb to the top had been on Sheva, and still, the woman looked just as beautiful as she had back in 2005.

"I want to know what happened. Silva and McNally just celebrated their tenth anniversary, I swear we were just trying to set them up last week," Sheva sighed.

"That was almost us." Y/n looked down at the cup of pencils on Sheva's desk with a far-off look in her eyes.

"What happened?" Y/n couldn't believe that Sheva had the audacity to ask, as if she hadn't been the one to pry their relationship apart in the first place.

"Convenience happened, I guess. I don't know Sheva, I've been asking myself the same question for years," Y/n said. "Can you at least give me a hint? I keep looking inside of myself for the answer and I come up emptyhanded and bitter."

"I don't know why I did what I did. It was stupid, and I'm sorry," Sheva apologized. Still, it wasn't enough for Y/n. She had torn herself to pieces trying to get rid of whatever traits had led Sheva to deem her untrustworthy and unloveable. "I should have known it wasn't you."

"Yeah, you fucking should have, but it's too late now. It was never me, and now that I know that, I can finally fucking move on. Director Alomar." Y/n stood up from her seat and placed her badge onto the desk. "I hope you're happy with your decision."

"That's it?" Sheva asked. Y/n nodded as she walked out of the office. It was going to be hard, but Y/n would find her place out in the world without any more attachments to Sheva.

#my writing #one shot #sheva alomar x reader #sheva alomar #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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leafs-lover · 2 years

Text

Too Far Gone - Part Thirty Six

Series Masterlist

Warnings: very brief mentions of drinking, swearing, some fluff, little pain

Word Count: 4300

September 1, 2019

For early September, the sun is strikingly hot. Tia can feel it prickling the nape of her neck, her skin burns from sitting with the windows down all day.

Heavy brown eyes are trained on the beautiful brick home with a double car garage and perfectly landscaped lawn. There isn’t a single weed in the garden that is flowing with Hydrangea’s, Hostas and brightly coloured flowers, a large sugar maple in the middle of the luscious green grass.

Ever since that day when Tia couldn’t leave the bus stop, she has made progress. She returned a few days later and walked by five houses before she froze. A few days later she made it to the end of Shavers Street but was unable to turn onto Downing – the street where Kylie lives. The next time she made it onto Downing Street, but not to her house. Every time she has made it a little bit further. Today she found Kylie’s house staring back at her.

Nobody knows that for the last month she has been trying to muster the strength to walk up the driveway and knock on Kylie’s door. She hasn’t seen her friends since Beck’s birthday because they will instantly know she is hiding something, and she can’t tell them this.

But really, what would she say? “I took 115 steps on a road before turning around and going to fuck Thomas” – because almost every time she doesn’t make it to Kylie’s door she ends up at his. Fucking, drinking, partying with his friends, taking lines. He patches the leaking holes within her heart wellenough for her to carry on and try again.

With Auston and Taylour in Arizona, she decided today was the day. She had made it within three houses a few days ago, at this point there was only one place left to go. To the front door.

She asked to borrow Auston’s car - and of course he said yes. He was thankful she was finally asking him for help, even though something so small. He has no idea that she drove it for less than twenty minutes and has since spent the last five hours parked on the street of an expensive upper-middle class Etobicoke neighbourhood.

It has been five hours of reaching for the door handle, only to slump back against the sticky leather seat. Five hours of bringing her hand over the starter button ready to scurry home, only to mutter how it was stupid to leave emptyhanded after finally making it this far. It has been five hours of sitting in the ridiculously expensive car, windows down and leather burning the backs of her thighs while she thought of what to say.

So far, she has come up with, ‘Hi I’m Tia’ but what comes next?

During the last five hours she watched a blue Ford focus pull up beside a silver Nissan Murano and two kids - Tia guessed to be between 8 and 12 - ran across the lawn into the house. A middle-aged man with glasses and dark hair not far behind them. He went inside and a few minutes later came outside to cut the grass. Since then, he watered the garden and lawn, put air in the boys’ bike tires, then started on organizing the garage.

One of the neighbours has three kids and their daughter plays softball. Another went grocery shopping and the older couple across the street took their shih tzu on a walk but stopped to talk to him on their way by. A seemingly normal and boring afternoon, for the boring residents of Downing Street.

The house while older is well maintained. It is large, easily a four-bedroom, maybe even five, probably with a large eat in kitchen. Tia has spent five hours observing everything about this house and found herself wondering if the kitchen gets used for family dinners, if the living room holds game nights, or if the backyard is spent hosting barbeques and pool parties.

At times throughout the day, she saw herself there, occupying that fourth bedroom, joining in on Sunday breakfasts, hopping on the TTC for Friday nights in the city. She saw herself growing up with height notches in door frames, and cliche school pictures lining the hallway. She wondered if Kylie and Paul would have stayed together, or if she would have spent half her summer in whatever city her dad was stationed in, the other half in Toronto with Kylie and her brothers. Are those two boys her stepbrothers or half brothers?

Tia ran through a million scenarios, but they all stopped when the front door opened and out stepped Kylie.

5’7” with long wavy chestnut brown hair, she has on a pair of high rise dark washed cropped jeans, a simple olive-green t-shirt on that is tucked into the front. A nude coloured YSL purse is thrown over her shoulder, and a pair of dark framed sunglasses covering her eyes.

She walks up to the man Tia has spent the afternoon watching and they talked for a minute. Her smile grew and her head fell back with a soft laugh as she gave his arm a squeeze. With a brief kiss to the lips, she climbed into the driver’s seat of the Murano and drove down the street.

It was a simple interaction, but one that left Tia with a pit in her stomach. She didn’t realize how much she unconsciously wanted that to be her life until Kylie drove away, and once again she was left with nothing.

“Wow!” Taylour gasps under his breath watching Brey take a shot.

With it being their last day in Arizona until the following summer, they planned a fun day with his family. Auston and Fred went to the rink early in the morning with his mom and Taylour. They watched them practice with some of the Coyotes players that have returned to prepare for the upcoming season.

Once everyone left Auston laced up Taylour’s skates and put on his helmet and gloves, handed him his freshly cut and taped stick, and for the first time he brought out a puck. Fred stood in the net, and Auston stood behind Taylour, helping him take shots. Auston helped Taylour maneuver the ice with a stick and skates, and Taylour giggled every time Fred let the puck slide past him.

Ema stood on the bench taking pictures and videos and Taylour never wanted to leave. He only did when they told him they could watch the Zamboni and go to mini putt. Once the boys had showered, they all jumped in his car and drove to the course where the rest of the family was already waiting.

Taylour of course had to shoot first and giggled when the ball bounced out the course into the small garden beside it. Auston was next, then Fred, but he has been in awe of Breyana - who has had some stellar shots, even a hole in one.

“So good Auntie Brey!” he jumps up when her ball stops inches from the hole. “You teach me?” he cranes to look up at her.

“Don’t want me to teach you?” Auston retorts, somewhat bitterly, but also smirking at his sister.

“Auntie Brey is better than you Daddy,” Taylour replies bluntly. Even though Auston should be offended, the sweetness and innocence in his son’s voice makes it impossible.

Raising her eyebrows, Breyanna grins at Auston, “hear that? Your son said I am better than you.”

“At mini putt,” Auston shrugs it off, trying to not let it get to him, but being an athlete, he is conditioned to win. “Get you on some skates and we’ll see who is better,” Auston mutters under his breath.

“Such a sore loser,” Alex teases stepping up to the tee.

“Hit it here,” Taylour runs over and touches a spot on the side the edge of the course. “It will bounce and then go over there,” he points towards the hole.

“Right there?” Alex points her club in the direction where he is standing, and he smiles wide nodding back at her. Auston lifts Taylour and places him a few feet over, off the course letting Alex line up her shot. He excitedly watches her take the shot with wide and beaming eyes as the ball hits the wood plank about six inches shy of where he pointed, and it ricochets towards the corner.

“Good try Auntie Alex!” he runs over to her for a high five. “You’ll get it next time.”

Tia knew she should have left.

When Kylie drove off so did the answer to every question Tia had. But finally seeing Kylie changed everything, it all became real. That was her mom; she was thirty feet away, and nothing could have prepared her for that.

Nausea rose up her throat and threatened to spill on the floor of Auston’s $100,000 Porsche. Her hands trembled and her breathing became uneasy, rapid, and shallow. She was thankful for the faint breeze that started to dance through the trees, it helped to cool the sticky sheen of sweat rippling down her spine.

“Hello?” the knocking on metal slowly draws Tia out of it. A silhouette steps in front of the sun, blocking the glare. Blinking a few times to allow her eyes to adjust her stomach flips. Its him.

“Hi, can I help you?” Tia doesn’t answer, struggling to formulate a thought let alone words. “You’ve been sitting here for a while, staring at me.” Annoyance and confusion are heavy in his words.

“I…I…uh…” Reaching for to start the car, all words are lost on her. “I have to go.”

“I have your plate number, if you don’t tell me why you’ve been sitting here for hours, you can tell the cops.”

With the warm sun falling behind Camelback Mountain, their last night in Arizona for the year is coming to a close. After a busy day filled with mini putt, swimming, Ema’s homecooked food and Taylour’s never-ending giggles, his family said goodbye. Once everyone left and everything slowed, it didn’t take long for the excitement of the day to catch up to Taylour. He spent twenty minutes lying on the stone surrounding the pool with a few of his Paw Patrol cars, quietly rolling them back and forth while Fred and Auston sit close by.

With one eye on Taylour, and a cold beer in each of their hands, they talked about the upcoming season, and the girl Fred had been seeing. Auston told him about the Brittney/ Bridgette fiasco, about Tia, and for the first time in a while when Fred heard his friend say they were in a good place to parent together Fred believed him. A part of him thought he heard glimmer of hope in his voice when he talked about her, but three seconds later Taylour slid his car into the pool, once Auston retrieved it the conversation shifted.

“Fweddie,” Taylour walks over to the outdoor table and picks up a book. Holding it out for him to see, he smiles, “You read to me?”

“You want me to read to you?” Auston instantly asks, uncrossing his leg to create space for him to sit with him.

“No Daddy,” Taylour shakes his head, keeping direct eye contact with the red-headed Dane before him. “I want Fweddie.”

“You want me to -“ Fred trails off when Taylour nods and starts to force his way into his lap. “Oh…okay...”

Fred is completely perplexed. Over the past three days together Fred has noticed that Taylour loves to play with anyone and everyone, but whenever he gets sleepy or upset its Auston he turns too. Breakfast must be prepared by Auston (because Fred puts peanut butter on toast wrong), every snack he wants must come from Auston, and when he scraped his knee and needed a band aid – Auston was the one he ran to with tears in his eyes.

Fred loves being the “fun uncle” that playfully tosses him in the pool, but this part is new, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. The truth is Fred doesn’t see himself being a dad, he never has. It has nothing to do with him not finding the right person to share life with, he had a relationship with an amazing girl, he just doesn’t want kinds. He likes the freedom of being able to jet off to Arizona for a weekend at the end of summer, not having someone depending on him every second of every day.

He can tell that Auston is happy, could even argue the happiest he has ever been. Whenever around Taylour he is always smiling from ear to ear, the two of them are always scheming and producing crazy plans to splash Fred in the pool or attack him with nerf guns. Being a dad changed Auston for the better, Taylour made him a better man and Fred loved watching him fall into a roll he was perfectly suited for, but that didn’t change his own personal beliefs. In fact, its only further lamented this decision, he does not want this life.

“Pirate Pups,” Fred reads out the title. Cracking open the spine, he flips to the first page.

Standing up Auston hands Geoffery to Taylour, and he instantly pulls him tight to his chest, snuggling up closer to Fred while a sharp yawn leaks from his lips. Auston settles back into the couch adjacent them, with a large grin rising on his face. He pulls his phone out and begins snapping multiple pictures of the two of them and opens Snapchat just in time for Taylour to scold his friend.

“No Fweddie,” Taylour asserts, cutting him off as he reads the book in a monotone voice.

“What Taylour?” Fred turns his eyes from the book to Taylour

“You’re…you’re reading it wrong,” Taylour sighs, pointing to picture of Rubble on the page.

“What? It’s not wrong.” Auston can hear confusion but also a little discontentment in his friend’s voice as he tries to find the problem. It is glaringly obvious to Auston, and maybe it comes from being a dad, but it humours him Fred can’t see the problem because that is exactly what is written on the page.

“That’s not how he says it,” Taylour huffs.

Fred’s jaw gapes, and he instantly looks to Auston with wide eyes. His friend provides him little assistance, instead continues to record the entire interaction while chuckling quietly behind the camera.

“How he says it?” Fred addresses Taylour. “How does he say it?”

“With the voice, you have to do Rubble’s voice,” Taylour’s voice rises sightly as he becomes more exhausted than before. “Daddy does his voice.”

Raising his eyebrows, Auston just smirks and nods, silently telling his friend to do the voice. Taylour has watched Paw Patrol every morning while waiting for breakfast, and it has played sporadically throughout the day while he plays with his toys. Fred had zero desire or need to watch a show about cartoon dogs, and either removed himself from the room or distracted himself on his phone. He has no idea what a cartoon dog would sound like, and why the story has to have the voices.

Fred sits there for a moment, processing everything, then turns back to the book. Accepting defeat - because its very obvious Taylour makes most of the rules - he sighs, then repeats the line doing his best pirate impression. “Arr!” said Rubble. “Shiver me timbers!” Taylour’s eyes light up and he grins up at Fred. “I do it right?” he asks.

Taylour vehemently nods, “yes Fweddie, do it again!”

Taylour didn’t make it to the end of the book. Three pages later his eyes were becoming too heavy to stay open and four more they never opened again. With only a few pages left Fred was pretty convinced he was asleep - curled tight into his arms clenching Geoffery with soft and even breathing – but he didn’t want to run the risk of stopping and getting yelled at by a toddler for the second time that night, so he finished the book.

“Does this make you consider changing your mind?” Auston asks. He doesn’t care either way if any of his friend have kids, he just doesn’t know how Taylour couldn’t convince someone.

“No,” Fred laughs, placing the book beside him on the couch. “I don’t think I can handle someone telling me I’m reading wrong every day for the rest of my life.”

“Who reads to a kid and doesn’t do animated voices?” Auston laughs at the absurdity.

“You don’t need voices to read, you just read, the story –“

“It’s a children’s book Fred,” Auston smirks while raising his tone slightly. “Children need the voices.”

“Guess I can add that to the list of reasons not to have kids.” Gently brushing aside some of Taylour’s hair, Fred smiles at the small child in his arms. “Don’t get me wrong because Taylour is great,” Auston smiles faintly from across the patio, “but the more time I spend with him, the more it affirms my decision. I don’t want kids. Don’t know how you do this, and alone.”

“I’m not alone. Have my family, the team, you,” he emphasizes. Standing up he takes a few steps across the patio and crouches down. Pulling Taylour out of Fred’s arms, he shifts to let him rest on his shoulder, “and Tia. We might not be together, but I’ll forever be doing this with her.”

“I have your plate number, if you don’t tell me why you’ve been sitting here for hours, you can tell the cops.”

Her hand falls from the button starter and she sighs. Should she lie? What is an acceptable lie for sitting in front of a stranger’s house staring at them for hours on end? What if he doesn’t buy the lie? The last thing she needs is the police getting involved, and yet another article coming out about her. She can see the headlines and knows it won’t take long for the rumours to start up again. Except this time, the rumours would lean heavily on her being an escort. They will say, she was meeting a client, what else could she be doing in the upper-middle class Etobicoke neighbourhood?

Can she tell him the truth? Does he even know who she is? And even if he does, is she welcome here? Her mom did walk out on her over twenty-two years ago and never came back, there has to be a reason for it, what if she is the reason?

In the time Tia spent considering her options, his eyes have narrowed, and posture stiffened. His icy blue eyes bear down at her, his frustration only growing with every second, and the longer she takes the more she worries he will go through on his threat and phone the police.

“I…I’m…” she sighs once again. Her mouth is dry, and the collar of her shirt feels as if it is getting tight to her throat, restricting the airflow. Bringing her hand up to pull the fabric away, as if the loose material is actually causing the issue, she tries to speak again. “I’m Tia.” Her voice is hardly louder than a whisper. After hours of thinking of what to say she finally said everything she planned and not a word more. She didn’t know what to expect to happen, but it did not provide any relief, in fact everything is too much and not enough, all at once. “I’m…Kylie is…”

“I know who you are.” He interrupts her, giving a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to come in?”

“I’m okay,” she whispers awkwardly, biting on her lower lip as a lump traps in her throat. Tia doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse to know Kylie spoke about her.

“Please, you’ve been in a hot car all day,” his voice is full of concern. “The sun has been beating on you, come into the shade and I’ll get you a drink.”

Tia didn’t remember agreeing, stepping out of the car, or walking down the driveway and past the perfect gardens, but she found herself sitting on their front porch shakily holding a glass of water with her eyes locked on the concrete. He sat across from her with one leg crossed over the other, his water sitting on a coaster beside some assorted vegetables and dip he brought out for them. And even though she’s outside in the fresh air, she still feels trapped. Claustrophobic.

She didn’t know what to expect of the man she assumes is Kylie’s husband, her stepdad, but it wasn’t this. Her dad has hazel eyes and sandy hair, a muscular frame from the years of military training and never more than a layer of stubble lining his jaw. This man is much slender, but taller than Paul, with jet black hair and light eyes, he has a thick beard that is trimmed short outlines his jaw. Physically the two could not be further apart.

“Kylie is getting her hair done,” he explains, removing his glasses to clean them.

Tia says nothing, just nods, cheeks flushed red with anxiety.

“She’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Silence again.

“You must have a million questions.”

Tia blankly nods.

“I know I’m not Kylie, but I might be able to answer some of them.”

God, he seems so fucking nice. Too nice. Bringing out lemon water and snacks, offering for them to sit inside with the air conditioning for her to cool off. Something has to be wrong with him. There is no way he can be this nice while being with a woman who did such a horrendous thing.

“What’s your name?” she finally speaks, tapping her finger on the rim of her glass anxiously.

“Damion,” he chuckles.

“And your -?”

“Kylie’s husband, we’ve been married for four years, together for seven.”

Clicking her tongue Tia nods. Droplets of condensation ripple over her fingers, down the outside of the glass onto her thigh, cooling her skin that is slightly burnt from hours of sun beating down.

Damion stares at Tia for almost a minute, examining her features, recognizing the similarities between her and his wife. Apart from the hair and eye colour which are almost identical to Kylie, her eyes are round with a slight uptick in the corner, nose is long and narrow and jaw slightly rounded. All things he wakes up to everyday. It baffles him how he didn’t realize all the similarities sooner.

“You look so much like her,” he says, almost in disbelief.

“Great,” she mutters sarcastically, shifting the chilled glass to be closer to her lips. Tia doesn’t know why, but the thought of taking anything from a woman that disowned her, flips her stomach. What else does she take from her? Even worse, what did Taylour take from her?

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he continues to talk to himself.

“Dad?” one of the two boys pops his head out, providing Tia some form of a break. “Can I ride my bike to Kevin’s?”

“I don’t know Jamie, it’s kind of far,” he finally looks away from Tia, and it provides her with relief to no longer be under the scrutiny of his cobalt stare.

“Please? Mom lets me do it, I just have to stay on the sidewalk and walk by bike across the road.”

“That’s Jamie, my oldest from a previous marriage.” Damion explains once Jamie walks over to the garage to get his bike. “Their mom, Sarah was diagnosed with cancer before our youngest was born. She decided to stop chemo when we found out she was pregnant, and unfortunately by the time Daniel was born there was nothing that could be done for her, she passed away three months later. Kylie has been great with them; they don’t really know a time without her and –“

Tia heart stiffened harder than a block of granite. At that moment she no longer felt any pain, completely detached from her emotions, operating like a robot. Kylie couldn’t even try to be a mother to her but chose to be ‘mom” to those boys for seven years.

She made one of the most selfish decisions imaginable leaving her and Paul alone, then followed it up with one of the most selfless decisions - the decision to raise someone else’s kids as her own. It makes her wonder what she could have done for her to not come back. How there was never a point while raising someone else’s kids she thought of her own.

“I have to go.” She whispers awkwardly, interrupting him.

He almost looks disappointed when Tia slams her cup onto the patio table a little too hard, the water sloshing over onto her hand. Damion quickly stands up. “Can I get your number? Kylie could –“

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.” Tia cuts him off.

Tia waited until she was past him, then brought her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. With a trembling bottom lip, tears instantly erupted down her cheeks, more and more with every step she takes. She heard Damion call her name but continues to stumble her way across his perfect green grass towards the car.

She lets out a mangled sob as she starts the engine. Her heart is angrily beating out of her chest as the cloud of misplaced delusions begins to lift. If they are the type to have Sunday dinners and Thursday movie nights, Tia will never know. This is not a perfect family, and they are not her family.

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002@hockeypucksposttspost@ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann@dana-hqy@delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@holyalfalfasprout@je-ne-regrette-rien@localcalumhoe@partypoison00@princesscameston@puccbunni@queenmarvel21@sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@afuturemilf @eclecticfashionbookszipper@callsign-denmark @monnbc@simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221@idfan21@elly-dx @samanthasgone

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gendrie · 10 months

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Do you think Arya might (briefly, 'cause she gotta go back westeros) become the first sword of Braavos? Syrio said that what got him into the job was not his sword skills but his true seeing so I think Arya fits and if she saves the Sealord's life I could see him offering...

i think him offering but arya rejecting bc she has to go home isn't too crazy...but at the same time syrio was still a great swordsman. his ability to accurately assess situations just gave him an edge on the competition. arya can’t swordfight at all. also she’s 12 lol. i want the sealord to offer arya his protection not the other way around, ya know?

and honestly it doesnt really seem like a fair trade. i’m convinced that the sealord gifted penny, her brother and her father each a dragon’s egg just for making him laugh. for saving his life arya should get a mighty reward like an escort back to westeros or resources to help the north. i don't think arya is going to walk away from the most powerful free city emptyhanded.

but i do think the story of how syrio became first sword will be VERY relevant to arya’s arc in braavos in other ways. i think she will definitely skinchange into the sealord’s cat and that arya & jeyne switching places will be pulled off bc of the true seeing concept.

#ask #theres already a first sword but #im picturing the scene in mulan #at the end where she saves the emperor #and his annoying secretary is like sorry no job openings!#so the emperor says ok you can have his job lol

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amisplaceddwelf · 1 year

Text

Breadsticks

I've never gone hungry.

'They must have little money where you come from'

He says it in a humurous tone. With that beautiful grin filled to the brim with deceiving purity. He doesn't really want to hurt me. Maybe only get a rise out of me (as always) so I give him the satisfaction of an indignant huff, and tug the breadsticks I have just snatched from the restaurant table securely under my jacket. Later, at home, I add them to the pile of snacks accumulating in my shelf like books, and wonder what could I have answeed to such an impertinent statement.

'You're mistaken. I've never gone hungry.'

That part is true enough. 'You're privileged.' reminds me my father, when I am a little child 'You'll never know what true cold or hunger is. I'll make sure of it'. An edge of bitterness to his voice, but kid me pays it no mind, and instead nods reverentially. I'll never know, repeated like a mantra. I'll never know.

And I don't, but I develop a habit. I snatch food where I can, specially in the school cafeteria, hide it in the folds of my clothes and accumulate it later in my living quarters. As a child, it comes as naturally as a reflex. They'll throw it in the trashcan anyways, I convince myself. Why not take those crumbs. That piece of a cookie. That bit of rice. When the adults see me walk away from the table emptyhanded, they don't suspect a thing. If they looked more throughly, they would find my jacket full of springrolls. Hard candy carefully distributed in my socks. A full slice of pizza under my shirt.

Thankfully, the inspection never happens.

I grow up and I've never been hungry. That much is true. My father tells me tales of his childhood: barely short of a dozen of siblings, just one providing adult, a pile of clothes composed of hand-me-downs from the older brothers. One day I outgrow all of my T-shirts, but father insists they fit me fine. He pushes my head to make it fit through the neck hole. It hurts. I want to laugh.

I'm a teen, and my 'smuggling' act has become sensation. A game of sorts. Now, bring me a whole panecook, says a kid. To me, a piece of sushi. Done, done. I have a way of knowing how to distribute weight, how to move and walk without making noises and without items poking out. A friend informs me people think it's gross, and just ask me to play the part like they'd ask a pet to do pretty tricks. The pet bit doesn't bother me too much, but I think it best to keep that part to myself. 'Why do you keep doing it?', asks the friend, and I stop to stare at her with wide eyes. No one had ever asked. I hadn't even asked myself. 'I won't die of hunger' I spit defensively, and realize the absurdity of the statement as soon as my friend brow curves in confusion and then concern. 'Of course you won't' she says softly, revoltingly gently 'What makes you think that?'.

A figure that loves me with a fierce misdirection. That protects me with the same bared teeth he sometimes tears my skin with. That vanishes progressively as the years go by, and one day completely, as he discovers the child he'd been shielding from hunger will never sprout into a proper parent themselves. Will never give him the grandchildren and monogamic nuclear family in law of his dreams.

I think of him as I pile breadsticks now. Why do I keep doing it, indeed, if there's no immediate threat in the horizon. There never was, not really. And yet his shadow looms over me. It covers me like a mantle. It caresses my cheeks. It poisons the air I breathe.

'Just in case' I say to my friend back then, as if that explains anything. Just in case, I repeat now, three words that slit the insides of my throat like pulverized glass. In case of what. How long until I realize I'm safe enough to drop the blanket. How long until I stop desperately hugging all comforts that come my way as a child that's afraid they'll magically vanish into thin air.

One day, I promise myself as I look upon my treasures. In the meantime, I've never gone hungry.

#a hybrid tag #otherkin #archetrope

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self-h-rmageddon · 3 months

Text

dominics kill himself meter is slowly winding up wuh oh. not really but it sure feels like it im. this has never happened to me before, we've never LOST a pet. died, sure but missing? i didnt expect how dreadful it might be. im hardly taking care of myself, i just go out and walk forever looking and then come home emptyhanded. if its not him in the shelter, then where? where is he? did someone take him? maybe he did get hit, and they just cleaned it up or something.. my moms making flyers for him, i miss my little guy. i feel so.. numb. what if i never see him again? somehow the universe always gives me new ways to grieve my fucking animals, im so tired of it. watch them die slowly knowing theres no hope but pretending there is anyway, make it sudden!! sudden and unexpected and make you sit in the car with the body. be hopeful! theres such a high chance you'll save her- oh, shes dead actually

hes LOST, hes stuck in the inbetween. neither dead nor alive, i dont know i dont KNOW whats happened to him. its scary, im terrified. ill wait for you to come home every day, please come home

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blu-joons · 2 years

Text

When You Feel Insecure As The Centre Of Your Girl Group ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

As yet another groan came from you, Jin looked across to you, quickly spotting how stressed you were as you tried to get things sorted for your group. Your work area was a mess, filling him with plenty of concern.

“They want me to do everything,” you told Jin as he came across to take a closer look, “I didn’t realise being elected as the centre meant that I had to do just about everything.”

Jin’s head shook as he looked through some of the papers in front of you, “this is too much, is there any part of this script when another member of your team answers one of the questions?”

Your shoulders shrugged, pushing yourself back from your desk, “they told me to find come home and come up with some good responses so that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

“But you’re a team, you split these sorts of jobs together.”

“They think that I’m the wittiest.”

Jin was stunned as he placed the piece of paper back down, “I know it’s not my place, but I really wish that I could go to your boss and have a word.”

“If the responses aren’t funny, it reflects badly on us all.”

“Budge up,” Jin smiled, moving you along your chair a little, “there’s no way that I’m letting you do this alone, two brains are better than one brain.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I can’t leave you alone like they have.”

Yoongi:

The sound of another piece of paper being screwed up captured Yoongi’s attention as he looked across to you trying to scribble down lyrics to take with you to the studio, but so far coming up with nothing.

“I can’t go emptyhanded,” you vented, feeling Yoongi’s worried eyes look across at you. “If they want me to sing most of the lines then surely, I’ve got to be the one to come up with most of them.”

Yoongi’s head shook back at you, whether you wanted a response or not. “Everyone has their strengths when it comes to a group, look at us, some are better than others.”

You smiled weakly across at Yoongi, dropping your pen, “the company have told me to come up with something, it’s supposed to be a group song, it can’t just miss a member.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand if you can’t do this one thing Y/N.”

“I don’t want to let them down.”

He smiled widely back to you, inviting you to take a seat beside him, “you’re human, if they’re going to feel let down for that reason then that’s their fault.”

“Have you ever struggled to write lyrics to take to work?”

“All the time,” Yoongi admitted, “I know they want you as the centre, but that doesn’t mean that you have to do everything, others can contribute too.”

“I’ve got no other choice tomorrow.”

“You had a bit of writer’s block, they’ll get it.”

Hoseok:

As you watched yet another episode of Weekly Idol, Hobi’s brows furrowed beside you, having spent most of the day watching the most popular episodes that you could find, you didn’t take your eyes off of them.

“They make it look so easy,” you murmured to yourself as you watched an old episode of Seventeen’s, “they don’t even put any effort into being funny, it’s just natural.”

It didn’t take long for Hobi to pick up on why you were watching the episodes. “You know I think that you’re incredibly funny too,” he tried his best to tell you, “maybe the funniest.”

Your head shook despite his compliment, “the company keep pushing me, if I’m the face of the group then I’ve got to make sure that I’ve got the humour to go with the rest of it.”

“Who says that you’re not funny as you are? You make me laugh.”

“No one, it’s just what I think.”

Hobi paused the programme, taking a hold of both of your hands, “if you force yourself to be funny, or act like another idol, you’ll regret it Y/N.”

“But it would possibly end up making people like me more?”

“No,” Hobi promised you, “trust me, the best thing that you can do is be yourself, it’s why the company is pushing you; they like you as you are.”

“Maybe you’ve got a bit of a point.”

“Don’t force yourself to be someone you’re not.”

Namjoon:

Once you walked through the front door, the pressure of the day finally hit you, barely stopping yourself from crying as Namjoon looked around, standing up and walking across to you as he saw you teary eyed.

“Why did they keep directing the questions to me?” You asked him, referring to your interview that was broadcast earlier in the day, “I didn’t even have answers prepared for some.”

Namjoon wrapped his arms around you, knowing that the pressure was eating away at you. “They should have made sure to focus on everyone, but that’s not your fault Y/N.”

Your head nodded, sniffing back your threatening tears. “I feel like I’m letting people down when I don’t have the answers, people expect but then I can’t deliver what they want.”

“Have you spoken to anyone in the company about this?”

“I can’t tell them to stop pushing.”

Namjoon smiled down at you, knowing that you had a point, “but you can tell them to take care of you if they want you to try and be the group’s centre.”

“I don’t want people to think that I’m not capable of this.”

“You are,” Namjoon assured you, “but there’s nothing wrong with asking for a few pointers, they’re your staff, they’re supposed to support you.”

“Maybe I’ll mention it tomorrow.”

“You’re doing the right thing, I promise you.”

Jimin:

Your eyes widened as the video came to an end, picking up straight away on how much screentime you had in comparison to your other members, with the camera focusing on your dancing more than anyone else’s.

“It’s almost as if I’m the only member of the group at some points,” you remarked in frustration, “they should focus on one of the others, they’re much better dancers than me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened at your admission, shaking his head, “I know I might be a little bit bias, but I think you’re by far the best dancer in the group, that’s why the camera is on you.”

Your head shook too for the opposite reasons to Jimin, “but it shouldn’t be on me when I’m not singing, it’s like they want to force me down people’s throats to watch.”

“Or they know that the viewers enjoy watching you.”

“I didn’t sign up to be the centre.”

Jimin nodded, knowing that the centre position was never really yours. “Sometimes companies have to listen to fans, and it’s clear your company is doing that.”

“Why me though? What’s so special about watching me?”

“Ask your fans,” Jimin chuckled, “if fans don’t like you, they let you know, you should be happy that people are rooting for you and wanting to see you.”

“I am, but it’s just overwhelming.”

“The pressure will get easier as you adjust.”

Taehyung:

You didn’t know where to begin as you looked over the scripts for Inkigayo after being asked to guest MC for the week whilst also trying to concentrate on your group’s comeback that had been building up.

“There’s no way that I can read through all of these notes in time,” you vented as Taehyung’s intrigue got the better of him, picking up the pack to read through it too.”

As he did so, he kept looking across to you too, “you don’t have to remember everything, the most important thing is that you smile and just be yourself for the show.”

You knew Taehyung was right, but that didn’t stop you being nervous. “Why did they have to pick me to represent the group? Why couldn’t they have picked one of the other girls instead?”

“Because everyone can see how talented you are.”

“This is too much pressure for me.”

Taehyung’s head shook as he tried his best to pick you up, “I know it’s daunting right now, but with a practice you’ll have all of this down in no time at all.”

“If I mess up, it looks bad on the whole group Tae.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he encouraged, “it’s easier said then done but you’ve got to try your best to think positively about how this week will go.”

“Right now, I feel like giving up.”

“I’m never going to let you do that Y/N.”

Jungkook:

Your heart pounded as you looked through your mentions on social media, struggling to deal with the numbers, with thousands of fans finding themselves mentioning your name as your group continued to rise.

“This is too much,” you sighed, looking to Jungkook who was reading through beside you, “how do you cope with all of this, this is nothing compared to what you go through?”

Jungkook wrapped his arm around you as tears threatened to spill for you, “you’ve just got to see it as a positive, people are liking you and that’s the most important thing.”

Your head nodded at his suggestion, “I want to make sure that people like the group though, I don’t want for them to just like me, I’m responsible right now for the other members too.”

“You’re not, you can’t control everything for them.”

“It’s up to me to get us noticed.”

Jungkook’s head shook as he squeezed your frame, “it’s not up to you, you’re a team, just because people are liking you more, that counts for nothing else.”

“I don’t know whether I’m built for the centre.”

“It seems like the fans aren’t giving you much of a choice,” Jungkook weakly smiled, “they’re deciding that you’re the centre because they love you.”

“At least I’m not being hated.”

“Things will get easier, I promise you.”

---

Masterlist

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venomous--fics · 3 years

Text

Anon Requested: Omg wait can i request a fic where reader feels like they aren’t good enough for eddie and venom so reader breaks up with them and eddies sad and just a lot of angst (BUT happy ending) if not thats okay !

A/n: Day 5!! I'm think about just extending the weekathon to the entire month! Not too sure yet, but I should decide quickly huh!! I just think it'd be fun to do something like that. Maybe get more and more festive along the way. What do you think?

Song: Halley's Comet by Billie Eilish

"So, that's just it? You're just gonna up and leave and not tell us why?"

He wanted to sound mad, but his voice gave it all away. You couldn't stand the thought of what you were doing to them both. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at them as you left. You didn't even bother to grab your things. You just left emptyhanded.

Subconsciously, maybe you knew you'd find your way back eventually. But...Not now.

The weight of the world began to crush you with every step you took away from their place. You knew they were watching you from the window. If you had to leave, they'd at least make sure you'd stay safe.

It all felt like a cruel punchline to an unfunny joke. How could you be such a fool to think you'd be good for them? They....They were a protector. A lethal one, but still a protector. They helped people and saved the world from every threat imaginable. You sometimes couldn't even drag yourself out of bed.

It didn't seem fair to drag them down like that. They deserved better. They deserved the world, and you just couldn't give them that. Someday they'd find someone who would.

That night was spent alone on a friend's spare guest bed. The world was so quiet. There were no streetlights beaming into your room. There was no more sounds of late night traffic or the people talking and walking as they passed under your shared window.

There was no more fighting Venom for the comforter because he'd purposely hog it just to get your attention. It always worked. There wasn't the usually jokes about forgetting to set your alarms for the work morning ahead.

You simply set your alarm and laid down. The world seemed so much colder and emptier. It didn't seem fun and bright anymore. The bed felt much more spacious now.. The pillows felt too squishy and new. The sheets looked nothing like his.

Staring at the wall wasn't going to put you to sleep any faster, so you rolled over and clamped your eyes shut. You willed yourself to not cry.

The tv kept repeating the same old stuff. Robbery after robbery. Someone got shot. A car accident. Oh, it's going to rain tomorrow.

We should be fixing that..

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore."

"I don't feel like doing anything anymore either, V."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Normally there'd be some form of a pep talk from you, but now.. Your spot on the couch was empty. All that was there to suggest that you even existed was your favorite throw pillow.

With hesitation, Eddie grabbed the pillow and held it in his lap. It still looked brand new, and that's simply because you always knew how to take care of things. Nothing of yours ever really got broken or misplaced..And you always knew just how to handle things.

"I miss them."

A thought they shared in common. It's felt like months, but it's only been a couple of weeks. Your things were still occupying space here. It was almost torturous having to look at them each day and know that you weren't going to come home.

It was that thought that broke them both. They curled up on the couch, sad and defeated. The world was incomplete because you weren't here to make ti better. A rough day at work? You'd say, "Oh, don't worry." as you made some hot coco to relax with. Emotions getting out of control? You were always there with ways to fix them.

Did they take you for granted? Did they forget to cherish you? Did they do something wrong? Everyone always told them that they were just screwups who ruined everything, so maybe they just fucked it up again.

Maybe they'd learn to live with it. Just not today.

It's just not home anymore. Home is where you were.

The rain was awfully heavy today. But you were thankful. Today was hitting you harder than the last few. You were stumbling down the sidewalk, tears streaming down your face. Nothing seemed to hold any meaning anymore. You'd pass by Mrs. Chen's shop, and normally you'd stop by there to get Eddie and V a snack or two. But now, you simply keep walking.

Today you just let your body walk. To where? Wherever you felt like you needed to go. You were so tired, and so worn down. That only help cement in the fact that you just... You were an absolute nobody. Who could love a nobody?

If only you were born gifted with the brains, the talents or even the powers. Maybe you'd be worth something. Maybe you'd see yourself as more. Maybe if you felt like you held any importance to anyone, you'd find a reason to stick around anywhere, with anyone.

Despite wanted to be more to literally anyone, all you could think is being better for them. They meant so much, no, no, they mean so much to you. It felt so dumb and childish to be so hung up on two of the goofiest creatures on this planet. You couldn't lie to anyone. You were hopelessly in love with Eddie Brock, a man who truly was a breed of his own. And you were in love with Venom, an alien with a heart bigger than his stomach but he's too embarrassed to say it.

You don't want to love them anymore. Because you still believe it was better to not be with them.

You slumped against a light post and wiped your eyes. You tried everything to stop the tears from flowing, but that only made them multiply. You'd scold yourself if you had the energy.

The world really did begin to feel more and more empty. People seemed to walk pass and not even give you a second glance. None of them cared, and to be honest, neither did you. Normally you never noticed other people, because you'd be so wrapped up in whatever it was you and Eddie, and yes, Venom too, were doing.

But they aren't here anymore. You were back to where you started. Alone and afraid of what the world had in store. You used to wake up knowing what you'd be doing...But now you weren't sure.

You remained leaned against the streetlight for an eternity. The sun had set and the moon had risen, yet you remained put. Everything was cold now. The rain had subsided, but the light continued to drip down on you, but even then, you didn't have the willpower to move.

It's better to be cold than to have never been warm, right? That is how the saying goes...Right?

You sniffled, waiting for the next set of drops to hit your head, but they never did. You slowly looked up and saw someone's hands holding up a jacket. They looked like they were doing their best to hold it up like an umbrella, and without touching you. You recognized the jacket immediately, even just from seeing the inside of it. You'd worn it so many times.

You stood up straight and turned around, being greeted with the sight of Eddie. He looked just as tired as you, and just as lost. He looked like he had a million things to say, but it seems like the cat had his tongue.

The universe was giving you a chance. For some reason.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing to spill out of your mouth.

"We're sorry, too."

"You didn- It was me. I was.." You took a step back from under the jacket, but it seems like Venom wasn't having any of that. He moved Eddie's body for him, this time, draping the jacket on your shoulders.

You gently crossed your arms and held them close, appreciating the gesture now.

"You can leave now. If you want." Eddie moved back a little, "We just saw that you were cold.."

"I don't want to go." you gripped onto the jacket, trying to fight the new wave of tears threatening to come out, "I just.. I had to because I felt like I wasn't good enough."

You were about to ramble on when Eddie cut you off, "That's why you left?"

"I'm sorry." You felt like you could just curl up and die on the sidewalk.

You looked down, staring at the cracks that littered the walkway. You'd find someway to make this poetic.

Two hands, one human and the other very much not, wrapped themselves around you as they pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Did we make you feel that way?"

The way Eddie's voice cracked made your arms go limp at your sides.

"No. I made myself feel that way- But I can't help it. You guys do so much good and I-"

"We love you."

The hug got tighter, "We used to do what we did because it was the right thing to do. But then we met you and it all changed. It seems so cliche to say that, but...It's true."

"You're just saying that."

"We adore you. We promised to do everything we can to make sure we leave this world a better place for you."

Your hands shook as your fought with yourself. You wanted to hold them just as close as they were holding you, but you felt-

"I don't deserve this.."

Unworthy.

In typical Brock fashion, and never knowing how to truly deal with his emotions, Eddie clung to you, almost pleading, "Would you just listen to what we're saying."

"You can't love me."

"Why the hell not? Huh? Whose going to stop us?"

"Nobody's going to stop us."

"Why is it me. Out of all the worthy people, why me?"

"You're such a good person. I know you don't see that..But you're the kindest person I've ever met."

"Certainly the nicest I've met..."

Every last word you wanted to yell out into the night sky just vanished from your mind. You wrapped your arms around Eddie and squeezed as hard as you could.

"How many times do we have to say it to make you believe it?"

"I'll say it a billion times," Eddie said, "Most guys would quit at a million but me? I don't know when to quit."

"It's true. He doesn't. But if saying it a billion times gets you to come home, then I'd do it a million more than him."

"I," You started, taking in a deep shaky breath, "I wanna go home regardless."

"We can talk more there if you're comfortable."

"With coco."

"I would like that."

The walk home was a talkative one.

Eddie's hand held yours tightly, but not too tight. He was so afraid that if he didn't hold it firmly enough, you'd simply slip away again. He was sure as hell not letting that happen again.

The apartment looked the exact same as when you left. You were so surprised by that. Normally they'd be a mess if you were gone for too long, and the apartment would reflect that.

"It all looks the same."

"Oh. Yeah." Eddie busied himself with fetching the hot chocolate ingredients.

"We couldn't bring ourselves to ruin your hard work...Or move your things." For the first time, Venom seemed sad.

They both seemed tired. You wanted to feel bad, knowing that they felt that way because of you. But knowing that they loved you meant that they felt bad, not because of you, but because you were gone.

Without thinking, your hand reached out and grabbed Eddie's arm, startling him a little.

"Can we go lay down for a little bit.." you asked quietly, "I think we all need a little rest."

Relief washed over him as he set down the cups and lead the way to the bedroom. There was no more words as you three crashed onto the mattress. Venom used a small tendril to turn the lamp off and pull you closer to Eddie.

"Are you okay with loving a nobody like me?" you asked as you watched him shut his eyes.

"Are you okay with loving two nobodies?"

"We are all losers."

Venom pulled a blanket over you and Eddie, going so far as to fluff the pillows under your heads.

"And that's okay. I love us the way we all are."

You yawned for the first time in ages as your eyes closed, "I love us too."

There was that familiar light coming through the window. And there was the sounds of the cars and the people. The world felt just right and you were home. You moved closer to Eddie and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips, and his arms were quick to wrap around you.

You felt a soft tendril wrap around your arm.

"I know what you're feeling and what you're thinking." His voice sounded surprisingly quiet, "But you are more than enough for us. We don't say it, but sometimes we feel the same way. You could certainly do better than us. But.."

The tendril tighten a little, but not enough to really do much.

"You left and we realized...We don't know what to do without you. We didn't feel like doing anything anymore. It felt pointless."

You turned your head to look at your arm, seeing two small white eyes staring at you with a mixture of sadness and adoration.

"I know I'm not good with these human emotions..I might never be good with them, but..I know that I love you. And Eddie loves you too. We always try our best to show you..But you are truly all we need to be happy in this life."

You were a bit shocked with how much Venom had to say. Most of the time, he tried to use the least amount of words possible to get his point across, so you knew that he meant it.

"You both complete me, and for once, I finally have the courage to say it, because I don't know when I'll get the chance to say it again."

You smiled softly at him, and moved your arm in a way where you could place a soft kiss onto the top of his tiny little worm head.

"I won't leave again. I promise we can talk about it first."

"Talking is good."

"I love you, V."

"I love you too." He seemed to pause as he shot a glance up to Eddie, just to make sure he was still asleep, "More than that guy."

"Not possible." Eddie groaned, adjusting a little.

You smiled a little as you curled up under the blanket and actually shut your eyes for good for the night. Finally, a good night's rest. You still had doubts, maybe not many and none as big and frightening as before, but that was normal.

Not everything in life is a given or a certainty. You're not promised to tomorrow and it's not a give that you'll be a millionaire. But where you are now is where you're supposed to be. Don't doubt it. The two halves of your heart will quite literally walk to the ends of the universe just to see you smile, and that's more than enough for you.

#venom imagine #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock x reader #venom x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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wildwarcat · 2 years

Note

I have no idea if you've seen nwh yet so please don't read this if you haven't!!

I was just wondering if your marvel asks included Andrew garfields spiderman after watching nwh I need some fluff with him cause that movie brought back my obsession with tasm

I also need fluff cause after nwh I need 3-5 working days to recover

I'm more than happy to write pieces for other Marvel films that aren't in the MCU. And yes, X-Men, the Blade Trilogy and Marvel TV shows. Thanks for the request! Hope you like it!

Another World (Peter Parker 3 x Reader)

Summary: After the events of No Way Home, Peter returns to his world to find you worried about where he had vanished to. He’s more than happy to fill you in on his newly discovered secret.

It was unreal. One moment you were watching Peter take down the Rhino before he plowed through a bustling Times Square, and the next he had just vanished. Rhino was left hanging from a skyscraper wrapped in webbing, but you and the rest of the crowd that had been watching Spider-Man were dumbfounded.

“Wait, wasn’t he just here?” Someone asked aloud.

“Yeah, where’s Spider-Man?”

A vibration in your back pocket told you to take out your cell phone, only to see a call from Aunt May.

“May, were you watching?” You asked quietly, weaving your way out of the crowd and to the nearest subway stop.

“I saw everything, Y/N. Is he really... gone?”

“Looks like it. I’m gonna stop by Oscorp on the way over, maybe they’ve been working on some sort of teleportation device.”

May sighed and agreed that it was a good place to start before wishing you luck. You stepped onto the subway and put on your headphones. J. Jonah Jameson was sure to have a field day with this on his new Daily Bugle podcast.

“That’s right, folks. It appears the Spider-Man has disappeared without a trace! What sort of hero does he think he is? I mean, he just left the Russian rhinoceros guy hanging from the Chrysler building. All it’ll take is a nice strong wind and down the two-ton man will go-”

You gave up on listening to the podcast. Jameson didn’t know a thing about Peter. He didn’t know how hard it was for Peter to put that suit on ever since Gwen had... passed on.

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

Of course, you had known him before he was Spider-Man, back when Gwen hadn’t even known who he was. You had been there when he was bitten by that spider, you were there when he first decided to become a hero, and you had been by his side for everything that had followed. In the months that followed Gwen’s death you had supported him in every way you could, until the realization hit you that you were in love with your best friend.

You pushed it down, hid it as best you could without having to push him away. But then, after months of hiding your true feelings, he kissed you in front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree.

“I’ve loved you for a while now, Y/N. I guess I’ve just been waiting for the right time to say it.” He confessed, his cheeks turning red from both embarrassment and the cold. This was it. Now or never.

You kissed him back.

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

Oscorp had been a bust. No one had any projects related to teleportation in the works and no one in their R&D department was planning on it either. So, you found yourself on the train back to Queens emptyhanded.

When you got to your apartment, you fumbled with your keys and unlocked the door, setting them on the keyring just inside the entryway. You sighed heavily, hanging up your coat and walking toward the living room with the intention of turning the TV on. But as you strode past the kitchen, you saw a flash of red and blue in the corner of your eye.

You froze.

Then after a moment, you slowly backed up a few steps and looked into the kitchen. Standing there, with a wistful smile and tears in his eyes, was Peter.

“Hey, Y/N.” He said, his voice quiet and raspy.

“Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been?” You asked him, practically running to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He said breathily. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. His suit smelled of sweat and burnt copper.

“Try me.” You smirked.

Releasing you, he set his mask down on the kitchen table and motioned for you to sit. He spoke for over an hour, telling you about how he had been transported to another universe, along with a few of his enemies. He spoke of how he met two other Peter Parkers, both of them Spider-Men, and how they had worked together to save the multiverse.

“Another world?” You breathed when he had finished. It was all you could think to say.

He nodded vigorously, “Maybe someday I’ll figure out how to take you there.”

You grinned, “As long as I don’t have to call you Peter 3.”

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

@ancailinaerach

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter number 3 #avengers fandom #avengers x reader #request #spider-man: no way home #the amazing spider man #multiverse #steve rogers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #tony stark x reader #carol danvers x reader #bruce banner x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #clint barton x reader #thor x reader

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

for you, my dear @kerwritesthings 💐 from the 800 followers celly prompt list

this one is set after the ‘21 season (damn l*ghtning). just over 2k words (now you see why these take me forever, bc I am apparently incapable of these things called “blurbs” lolol next time I’m doing fewer than 8!)

Night after night you fall asleep on me / I'm prayin' that I don't go back to who I was (Deserve You, Justin Bieber) - Mathew Barzal

Mat had never allowed himself to grow attached to anyone the way he’d grown attached to you in the past eight months. And if he was honest, that vulnerability scared him to hell and back.

And so when the Islanders exited the playoffs in dramatic fashion for the second year in a row, but only the first since you had come into his world, Mat did what he always did after a devastating season-ending loss — he shut down, ignoring that you were now a part of all of this, too. Blocking out the knowledge that you were waiting in the wings to comfort him and show him that he wasn’t alone under the heaviness of the burden weighing on him. He told himself that he didn’t want to put this pressure on you, didn’t want to bother you with the overwhelming sense of disappointment and failure that began to eat away at him as the seconds ticked down on the clock and really took root when the Isles walked away from the ice emptyhanded, yet again.

Your “I’m so proud of you, baby” text went unanswered, as did your singular FaceTime call in the wee hours of the morning when you knew he would have already been home from Tampa. The brunch you DoorDashed him the next morning from your favorite spot on his block was delivered without any thanks from Mat, and that was when you decided to let him be, at least for now.

Because you dealt with your own heartbreaks in a similar way, and you knew firsthand that it was better to let him sit in it for now and come and find you later, than to press, as gutwrenching as it was knowing he was so close by, and yet so far away from you — all alone, nearly drowning in his self-doubt and insecurities.

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, nor had it the night before following the game. The next morning, you woke with a heavy sigh, the ache in your chest only growing sharper the longer you went without speaking to Mat. You dragged yourself to the kitchen to make your coffee in an attempt to shake off the fog, and you nearly jumped out of your skin with anticipation when your phone buzzed on the counter nearby, but the bubble burst when you saw the name of your boyfriend’s best friend on screen instead of his own. You picked up the phone anyway, thankful for the sweetness of the man who was calling.

“Hi, Beau,” you answered softly. “How are you?”

“Hi, ma chérie,” he said, more chipper than you’d anticipated — no doubt partially in thanks to his lovely new girlfriend who was sure to be easing his own grief over the season’s abrupt end. “I’m okay. At least, uh, trying to be. How are you?” he asked, obvious concern laced in his tone.

You pursed your lips, unsure of how to respond.

“I… I dunno,” you said, leaning your elbows against the counter. “I’m okay. I’m just… worried.”

Beau huffed loudly on the other end.

“So, he still hasn’t called you?” he asked, and unexpectedly, a lone tear fell down your cheek. You swiped it away with your wrist and sniffled.

“No,” you said softly, popping your jaw and attempting to steady your breath.

You heard what sounded to be Tito covering the speaker with his hand, his muffled words, presumably to Emma, unintelligible.

“Come over to my place later, let’s say 3 o’clock,” he said firmly. “I have an idea.”

_____

You should have guessed — could have guessed.

When you walked into Tito’s condo, Emma greeted you at the door with a tight embrace, brushing a kiss to your cheek before pulling back and pressing her index finger to her lips, then pointing toward the balcony situated on the far side of the living room. There, you spotted Tito, leaning against the railing and overlooking the city, a beer bottle nestled between his palms.

Next to him was Mathew, assuming the same position.

You gave Emma a soft smile as she patted your back, nodding as she gestured toward the balcony. Your heart raced as you followed her prompt, watching the gentle breeze pick up strands of Mat’s dark hair. Your mouth went dry as you stood motionless in the open doorway.

What the fuck were you going to say?

For now, you settled for the obvious — “hi,” in a voice barely above a whisper — and Mathew turned around, wide-eyed. His playoff beard had been shaved off, replaced by a five o’clock shadow that had grown in its place since his exit interview — which you had reluctantly watched with an unsettling, churning feeling in your stomach. His eyes were faintly bloodshot, dark circles rimming them, and his long hair fell haphazardly around his face, not neatly slicked back by his usual post-shower gel. The man who stood before you was only a shell of the bright, confident, optimistic man who had left for Tampa earlier that week.

“Baby,” he breathed, a question and a relieved greeting all rolled into one. You offered a reserved smile and slowly took a few steps forward out onto the balcony. Tito gave you a brief side hug and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Thanks for coming,” he mumbled into your ear before stepping away. “I’m going inside. You two just… take all the time you need.”

You nodded, nervously tucking hair behind your ear as Tito gave you an understanding look and pulled the sliding glass door closed behind himself.

You took up the space he had left empty, a good four feet from where your melancholy boyfriend stood. You felt his eyes stealing glances at you as you looked out across the skyline, still trying to come up with something intelligent to say to the broken man beside you.

Instead, to your great surprise, he spoke first.

“I’m so sorry,” Mathew said, cautiously stretching out his hand to wrap around both of yours, clasped on the railing before you. Your eyes fell to his hand before traveling the route to his face. His apology was not only hanging in the air, but etched into every detail on his face. “I know I did the wrong thing — I fucked up. I shut you out. I never should’ve shut you out, baby.” His voice cracked over those last few words, and without hesitation, you closed the gap between the two of you, gathering him into you. His tall form seemed much smaller than it truly was as he rested his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, his shoulders and spine hunched as his breathing became unsteady. You quietly shushed him, dragging one hand up and down his back as you used the other to rub soothingly at his scalp.

“I forgive you, Mat,” you said quietly. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because we both know it’s not, but… I forgive you. You’ve never had to sit in these feelings with another person. And it fucking sucks and it’s so hard. But you know what? That’s what I’m here for. I don’t want just the good games, the ones where you score a billion points and we go celebrate after. I want the shitty ones too, where you feel mad and sad and frustrated after. You’re there with me when I’m having all of those feelings. I just wanna be there with you, too... if you’ll let me.”

Mat drew a shuddering breath and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to your neck before standing upright and enveloping you in a long embrace, his arms holding you warily, as though he thought you may just disappear. It must have been several minutes before he spoke.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you,” he admitted abruptly, his brutal honesty forcing your eyes open as he sighed heavily. “Like, why should you stay with me? After what I did… why should you put up with that?”

Slowly, you looked up, your brow furrowed at Mat’s questioning which, from his tone, you could tell had come from the place of deep-seated insecurity and fear of his world crumbling around him. He didn’t visit this place often, only when things weren’t going well, only when the pressure was too much and he envisioned it all crashing and burning right there in front of him.

And so you knew it was time to truly reassure him, to anchor him, to tell him the one and only reason you had turned the other cheek and decided to stick around when he had tried to push you away.

“Because I… I-I love you, Mathew.”

He seemed to stop breathing then, the only movements of his body the astonished blinks of his weary eyes.

“Y-you do?”

You nodded, resting your hands on his waist.

“I do. I really do.”

Mat wasted no time then, gathering you back into himself, but this time standing tall, cradling your head to his chest as he dropped sweet kisses into your hair, your presence and your admission empowering him and already mending the cracks in his soul, in his being.

“I love you, too,” he told you quietly, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips — the first one he’d worn in days.

You hugged him close, your hands smoothing over the wide expanse of his back, before you lifted your face to look into his.

“I love you, which is why I need you to communicate with me — to be honest with me,” you pleaded softly, clutching at his soft white t-shirt. “You know?”

With a sniff, Mat nodded, running a hand over your hair as his shoulders fell again, but only slightly.

“I will. I want to, especially now,” he said. “When I get in my thoughts sometimes, I just… I dunno, it’s hard for me to believe I’m the person you think I am. The person that you’re telling me now that you love.”

You pressed your hands against his back, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

“You have already shown me exactly who you are, Mathew. And it isn’t the person that you’ve been these last few days,” you said. “That person is just sad, and scared, and hurt, because something really shitty happened to him. And I get it.”

He offered a grateful nod and kissed your forehead tenderly before reaching for your hand, staring down at your intertwined fingers as his lips lingered along your hairline.

“I need you more than I let you believe I do,” he mumbled against your skin.

You reached to smooth your hand down the back of his head and rest it on the nape of his neck, gazing up at him.

“That’s okay, Maty,” you assured, your brows creased, determined to convince him that everything he was feeling was okay. “You know why?”

You felt Mat shake his head. Tears stung your eyes as you pushed up on your toes and hugged his neck.

“Because I need you, too,” you whispered.

After a seemingly stunned pause, you finally felt Mat’s arms wrap tightly around you, holding you the way you were used to — firm, solid, steady, sure. You stood in his embrace for quite some time, content to hold on and be held onto.

Finally, Mat broke the silence that had settled over the moment.

“Don’t let me go,” he whispered.

With his head tucked in your neck once more, your hands slipped down his back and up again, sliding beneath his shirt, desperate to have him as near as could be.

“Never,” you assured.

_____

Late that night, after sleep had found you at last, Mat lay awake in his bed, tracing his fingertips along your bare arm. As he ghosted a kiss to your forehead, your eyes fluttering in deep, needed slumber, he counted his blessings that you loved him — you fucking loved him — when he least deserved it. And he prayed to the powers that be that he would never again make the same mistake of holding his true self back from you.

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saltpepperbeard · 3 years

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Fighting the Rain ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Oh? What’s this? *Cough hacks CHOKES on cobwebs* A one-shot after almost two years of inactivity? Who knew that over-caffeinating was the true key to motivation after all this time! But hello hello everyone! So very happy to be back. I come bearing a bit of Reverent Sweetness™ as a small exercise to hop back into things! I really wish for this energy to continue, and so I’ll be attempting to push myself into getting back into the swing of things.

For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly blame Andy and Cate for such an idea. And I do believe I’ve seen another tub-related piece that was also hanging around in my mind as I thought this up. Whatever the case, thank y’all; your talks and creations fINALLY FUELED ME lmao!

But for now, enjoy some simple Everlark rubadubdub, and without further adoooooo...

Fighting the Rain

No two days are the same, and no two hunts are created equal. Some glow with warmth and yield a plentiful harvest, while others fall into a category of melancholy and disappointment. Unfortunately, as the clouds build relentlessly overheard, my efforts seem to be leaning towards the latter.

My arrows drive into a frustrating nothingness. My pray scurry as if they have an oddly heightened sense of awareness. My attitude grows all the more frustrated and downtrodden. And almost as if to directly mock me, the sky cackles and booms before releasing an onslaught of cold moisture.

Great. I’m quite a ways from home, but close enough to hopefully beat a deluge should it chose to erupt. I hate departing emptyhanded, but don’t feel keen on pushing my luck further. Not when a kindling of annoyance burns within my chest, and the clouds answer back with further rumbling.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and dart with bow in hand, the various unused arrows clinking against my backside. The rain is chilling, biting my skin and hissing against the internal fire. Water is normally apt at putting out flames, but it only serves to amplify mine. My scowl deepens as I continue on, growing damper and colder by the minute.

Aside from the fire roaring in irritation, perhaps it burns for another reason. Perhaps it presents itself now as a yearn for warmth, for the feeling only he can provide. His arms have always been there to chase away the deepest of stings, so of course I would want him like nothing else now.

My step inadvertently quickens, the mental image of his embrace fueling me. A blessing and a curse; the sky groans above and opens up to completion, sending buckets of rain upon me. My desperate speed of course, points to an even extremer drenching effect, my scowl deepening something terrible as I’m quickly soaked to the bone. But in moving faster, in practically flying across the land, the entrance to the back porch quickly appears through the falling sheets.

I waste no time in careening up the steps, practically throwing myself into the house with a hissing groan. But I’m sure such sourness will be short-lived. Such dampness will likely turn anew. Such chilling sensations will be burned off, the embodiment of the sun coming forth to bestow his touch.

Or not.

On the contrary, I’m met with emptiness. Silence. Nothing more than the shivers coursing through my form, and the soft drips of water rolling off my soaked clothes.

My scowl, though now painted with confusion, deepens all the more. Was I too presumptuous? Knowing my current luck, he’s likely elsewhere: wrapped up in the Bakery, next door with Haymitch, or deep in the throes of a painting upstairs.

I shed my father’s hunting jacket, hanging the damp leather to dry before shrugging off my equally-wet bag. My arms come to lace across my chest, crossing in both self-comfort and simmering frustration. Though, my lungs are quick to rattle with a sigh. He’s not responsible for my happiness, and I know so. And I can manage well enough alone when I need to; I’m no stranger to the empty cold.

But God, he definitely helps. He’s everything and more on a rainy, relentless day. And with every hour, with every moment spent with him, it gets harder and harder to deny the growing draw. So used to solitude and survival, and yet now do I find myself wishing for warm company more often than not. How Spring has warmed the deepest reaches of my soul.

I’m about to let my hair down and poke my head out the door to wring it out, when the day continues to prove me wrong. Or maybe, my mental call is answered by the only one who can hear it. Whatever the case, cold limbs run warm and angered heart beats ginger as his voice unexpectedly manifests.

“Katniss?”

My sigh shifts to something of tender relief, blowing out a quivering breath as I feel the instant effects.

“Down here,” I call back.

My chest seems to pound in unison with his footsteps on the stairs. He has no idea, the effect he has. It’s like the dissatisfaction towards the day’s events instantly drains, washing away like the billowing spout outside. Made even more intense, of course, by him rounding the corner.

I should be used to this. This is something of normalcy now. And yet, my breath still manages to hitch, coupled with the stutter of my heart. As usual, he beats me to talking, grinning his endearing smile as his blue eyes lay upon me.

“Hi, my love-” His voice and the expression are short-lived; he must have gotten a proper look at my state. Yes, the widening and wandering of his eyes confirm it, as does the speed in which he reaches me.

“Oh...God, you’re soaked!”

“That obvious?” I grumble through the hairs plastered to my face, though twinges of amusement exist therein.

“A bit!” he softly chuckles, reaching up to brush said strands away. An action which, is unsurprisingly topped off with a kiss, a very tender one against my glistening forehead. In missing him, in wanting the mellowness from my flower, I move for more. I chase after his lips as they depart, quickly bringing forth my own. The tender connection causes me to contently sigh, particularly when I can feel him smiling. We hold each other in the gentle lock for a few ginger beats, before he pulls free- oddly looking sheepish.

I cock a brow at him, which seems to be enough to pry an explanation.

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Really ah...puts a damper on my plans.”

I roll my eyes at what appears to be a pun, and he laughs a bit before grabbing the back of his neck. I cannot help but pry further.

“Plans?”

“Yeah...”

He puts on the shy smile which likely stole my heart all those years ago, and looks down in the direction of our feet.

“I ah...Drew you a bath. Thought you would like it after a long morning of hunting. Seems kind of counterintuitive now though.”

There it goes, the departure of every ounce of cold, of negativity. Akin to Spring melting the deepest reaches of Winter, easing the snow into the Earth and drawing forth blooms. I’m sure his thoughtfulness will never cease to soften me into awe. And, though it seemed impossible years ago, what with all the roadblocks and challenges that stood in our way, I’m sure my love will never stop heightening.

I find myself hushed into an affectionate silence, my cheeks blushing all the while. Before he can doubt the validity of his decision though, or doubt himself to any other degree, I leap back to him once more. My mouth dusts across his tender cheek first, before selfishly seeking out another caress of his lips.

“No,” I assure when we finally break, “No. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Fighting dampness with dampness?”

“Well, yeah. One is awful, cold, and from rain, and the other is inviting, warm, and from you.”

I’m surprised, though absolutely not, to see a glint flash through his shyness, his smile turning a bit more crooked to match.

“Hmm. Not yet it’s not.”

I roll my eyes and give his chest a playful shove. He of course laughs, and softly grabs my wrists, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I sigh against him, falling all the more into a state of contentment. Unsurprisingly, a trio of relatively new words present themselves on my tongue. Though, in yearning for Peeta, in having my heart beat deeper and faster for him day by day, their utterance feels more and more natural.

“I love you...” I whisper for him to capture, “Thank you.”

He grins so hard our connection breaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush, effectively triggering mine all the same.

“I love you too. Now go ahead- can’t have the bathwater turning into sitting rainwater.”

I let out a huff of mirth, and give one last parting kiss before taking him up on his offer. There’s a small bit of apprehension towards leaving him so soon, but I remind myself that this was his doing. The warm water will carry his essence, surely, ushering me away from all the troubles of the morning.

And so I walk up the stairs towards our bathroom, humming softly as I envision what awaits. Dampness to fight dampness indeed; I’m met with a plume of steam when I open the door. But quite quickly, it proves to be a far better option than that of outside.

Unlike the rain which chased me away, this draws me deeper into the bathroom. The steam is like a warm blanket, or a hug from Peeta, wrapping around my slightly shivering form. When I inhale deep enough, it seems like I catch notes of something floral- lavender, maybe? All the more thoughtful of him to doctor it up so.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly rid myself of my soaked garments, plopping them into a wet heap on the tile. My skin is quick to pimple from the biting air, so I’m even faster to slip into the beckoning tub.

And I cannot hush the contented moan that slips from my lips. It’s wonderful. Heated just so, smelling so sweet. My eyes roll shut with a sigh, and I poise myself to slip deeper into the watery embrace. That is, until the day continues on with its ever-changing events. That is, until a jostling of the doorknob halts my movements and breaks the relaxed trance.

Out of pure reflex, I draw my knees up towards my chest, hugging myself and hiding my body away. An action birthed from years of apprehension, and one that immediately unravels at the sight to follow.

Because it’s Peeta, of course it’s Peeta.

But the unexpected element is that he too, stands completely bare, all of him on displayed for my stunned, flustered eyes. I find his own first, and though he’s grinning, I can see that same shyness playing across his features. Much to my blushing dismay, my gaze cannot help but drift to the space I’ve become recently acquainted with. It’s still so new to the both of us that the hitch of my breath is answered by one in return. Warmth seems to travel to more than one place as I gaze at him, though my grey stare wanders to where it’s most prominent, his cheeks utterly rosy with red.

He shifts himself a bit then, looking down and snickering softly before catching my eye once more.

“Too much?”

A shiver rolls down my spine. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I have a feeling I won’t be opposed to anything he brings forth. Thus, I’m entirely earnest as I shake my head, releasing my knees fully.

“No,” I murmur, giving my lips a quick lick.

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Already seem pretty prepped to do so.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh, before blue interlocks tightly with grey. In knowing he’s silently asking for permission, a nodding gesture of my head brings him forward. I watch as he walks towards my backside, and I believe I’ve placed his intention. I slide forward a bit then, allowing him space to slip in behind me, should he choose to do so.

Sure enough, he does, momentarily sitting on the tub’s lip to unclasp his prosthetic before sliding in, the water sloshing a bit and rising from the introduction of another body. And, of course, it seemingly grows warmer, his form, his raw form, utterly reaching the depths of my being.

It’s ridiculous, considering he’s gone where no one else has, but I find myself somewhat timid. Maybe because it’s yet another new form of intimacy. I never really considered so many existing aside from the more carnal ones, but Peeta continues to surprise me. And where I find myself unsure, he also is there to softly guide me.

His warm hands gently slip to grasp my shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he ushers me to lean back against him. I don’t protest in the slightest, venturing back with his grasp and gasping ever so slightly when skin meets skin.

It’s different. Our bodies have been unified before of course, tangled and messy and desperate. But this is...different. It’s vulnerable, it’s tender, and it’s...comforting.

It’s everything. Just as he is.

My thoughts momentarily blip back to the former however, when I feel...him wedged between us. I squirm a bit, my breath hitching as more intense thoughts threaten to invade. But the more I feel, the more I lay against him, the more I realize that he’s relaxed.

And that it’s simply us. All that we are, together.

The thought settles me, and I sigh as I fully melt against him. Every bit of tension saps from my body, and my form seems to meld perfectly into his. His head comes forward to nestle against mine, and I can feel him smiling, the heat evident as he nuzzles and offers the occasional kiss.

I’m back to humming, back to closing my eyes, utterly slipping away like he intended, like I wanted. I had felt almost selfish before, wanting this so badly. But then again, it was nigh impossible not to; it does exactly the intended purpose. I’m ushered to plane where it’s just he and I, where nothing bad exists. I’m taken to a place of pure warmth, of pure love, everything else falling away.

As blissfully lost as I am, I of course have no choice but to vocalize once more.

“I love you so much...”

His turn to hum, as if he’s absorbing and ingesting such sacred words. But all the same, he presses a kiss to my cheek before returning the sentiments.

“And I love you...”

I’m prepped to simply drift away, waiting for my body to become so relaxed that I doze off against his chest. He denies me the opportunity though, but I don’t complain, his fingers coming up to nestle into my messy braid.

“May I?”

When I nod, he begins to softly unravel the intertwined strands. An easier task than usual, as the rain and running left it loose. I give my head a gentle shake when I feel it entirely unwind, fully freeing the waves of darkened ebony.

“Beautiful...” I hear him whisper, and before I have a chance to respond, before I can really even process, his fingers venture in further, sifting through swaths of black to dance atop my scalp.

Any crinkle of my nose towards his compliment instantly dies with such an action. He rubs, massages, the pads of his fingers driving me into an entirely different state of bliss. How is he able to do this? How can he affect me so? How can he drive my body and soul to places unthinkable?

I guess if anyone could be able to do it, it would definitely be Peeta. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I fall even deeper, my skin sliding against his as I descend a bit into the water. He snickers softly, but continues on with the massage. Or wash, perhaps? I think I can smell even stronger notes of flora and sweetness. Whatever the case, I can barely think, barely process, utterly mollified and melting.

So much so that I think my chin eventually brushes the water’s surface, effectively snapping me back into reality. With it, comes a hint of something else. Further selfishness? Guilt? Desire to return? Either way, my whisper breaks through the gentle steam.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like...We need to switch places. Take turns.”

His fingers momentarily halt, before he laughs and continues on.

“No. No no- this is more than enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“But-”

“Just enjoy it, love,” he murmurs, “Really. I’m just...happy to be here with you.”

So sweet, sugary sweet, sweeter than the confectionaries he specializes in. Surely something that would have earned a tense scowl years ago; now it draws forth a ghost of a smile. It makes me want to consider the journey, the steps we’ve taken to come to this very moment. But in the delightful erasure, all the pain and hurt is numbed, cast aside in the eyes of our affection.

What it fails to erase however, is my want to be stubborn, my need to please in return. Though blips of meekness still linger, shyness still evident amidst my cheeks, the former drives me and overrides. With a bit of difficulty in the porcelain space, I pivot around to face Peeta, connecting our stares with my smile running to a playful scowl.

Though there’s a slightly confused lift to his brows, he’s grinning immensely, an expression that acts as magnetism between our mouths. I kiss him for just a moment before carrying on with the intended plan. Just as he had done with me, I reach up with both hands, curling my fingers through his ashy blonde locks. I hear him shakily sigh, though the silence it what truly drives me onward; no argument is being made.

My pads nestle deep into his hair, softly rubbing and massaging like he had done for me. It’s lovely, returning the sentiments, returning the newly found intimacy. Unfortunately though, in doing so, I fail to recognize the more prominent form, the more familiar.

Perhaps it’s Peeta’s shaky hand that comes to rest at the small of my back, or the realization that such a position has put him directly at eyelevel with a more than desirable part of me- at least to him. I subsequently bite my lip, blush, and halt at the thought, slipping back to my previous perch.

Sure enough, when I pull away to get a look at his face, the flush to his cheeks and flare to his nostrils paint the correct picture.

“Too much?” I ask, parroting his opening question from earlier.

“Hmm, uh, a test of will perhaps, yes,” he replies with a shaky laugh.

It’s my turn to snicker, reaching to gently cup his face with a hand.

“Sorry. Might make this take a different turn.”

“I mean, it could, if you wanted,” Peeta murmurs, his grin turning crooked once more.

I let out a huff of mirth, softly shaking my head.

“Seems inevitable. But I dunno...I do like this.”

Peeta’s smile shifts back to a warmer tonality, pivoting his face to kiss my hand a kiss before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m just...happy to be here with you. Always.”

His words repeated off my tongue are perhaps more loving and beneficial than the stroke of my fingers; he lights up like the sun, burning away the fog between us as his sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Always,” he reaffirms with a whisper, giving my hand another kiss before continuing, “Whatever you’d like then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Whether I nestle up against his chest, lay back against him once again, or get ravished atop towels on the bathroom floor, the thick clouds of steam refuse to reveal. Whether they remain entirely chaste and grey, or heated and dripping, they encapsulate us, locking us away from the morning, from the bad.

Just as he does for me, and how I hopefully do in turn.

Oh, how life is simpler, more bearable. How the negatives turn into things so much more desirable. And how humorous is it that I find myself longing to get caught out in the rain once more.

120 notes · View notes

lyssismagical · 4 years

Note

Maybe 28 and 57 for the prompt writing? That would be really cute 💖

28 - “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

57 - “Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death.”

Idk how it happened but nearly 4k words of Cheerleading Captain!Peter x Quarterback!Harley for your consideration

Joining a new school in junior year wasn’t easy. Moving from Tennessee to New York was even harder.

But if there was one thing Harley had on his side, he was a fantastic football player. And everyone knew football players were top of the social pyramid.

“Quarterback? Really?” One of the boys say when he says it to the coach. “You think the new kid will get the position?”

Harley shrugs. “I played in Tennessee. I won every game.”

The coach lifts an eyebrow and then nods in approval. “Ever since the schoolboard started talking about implementing athletics at a STEM school, we’ve been pretty emptyhanded. Not enough students willing to drop robotics to join a team, not enough good students. We won one game last year out of a total of nearly fifteen.”

With a smug grin, he rolls his shoulders and slips his helmet over his head.

He gets Quarterback with ease.

As he’s leaving the field after tryouts, he notices a group of girls and a boy congregating by the bleachers, all dressed in blue and gold.

“You’re new here,” a girl says, appearing beside him. He recognizes her, having been sitting in the bleachers alone during tryouts. She’s not wearing a football uniform or the ones the group across from them is wearing.

“Harley Keener,” he replies. “You’re Michelle, right? You’re in my chemistry class.”

She offers half a smile. “MJ. I heard you landed Quarterback.”

“Not that it was particularly hard, there’s not much competition.”

Looping their arms together, she leads him a few more feet away from the group. “They’re the cheerleaders in case you didn’t know. Cindy, the one with the pink water bottle, she’s co-captain. And Peter Parker is captain, he’s been captain since freshman year.”

“He’s captain?”

MJ’s smile turns knowing. “Yeah, he’s captain. Too bad you missed him in freshman year. The school didn’t have the budget for two sets of cheerleader uniforms, so Peter had to wear the short skirt the whole first year. I had to teach him how to shave his legs. Now he gets to wear pants.”

Harley turns, pretends not to look, but still says, “The pants are nice.”

“I know what that’s code for,” MJ laughs.

Indignant, Harley huffs, “I’m not a creep, his pants are just really tight.”

“Well, he is both single and bisexual, so if you’re courageous enough, I’d say to shoot your shot, Keener.”

Before Harley has the time to reply, MJ’s already walking off towards the school, without even a glance over her shoulder.

Harley’s not courageous enough to ask Peter out. All he does is wave from a distance, reveling in Peter’s little smile in return before making his way to the locker rooms.

* The first game of the season they nearly lose thanks to Harley’s constant staring at Peter on the sidelines.

The next two games, he focuses so intently on winning for Peter that they totally annihilate the other teams.

At the end of their third game, a home game, Harley’s on his way to the showers, grinning at his teammates when Peter catches up to them.

“Congratulations on your win,” he says.

Harley’s stunned into silence. It’s the first time he’s really seen Peter up close. They only share one class together, Spanish, and they sit on opposite ends, with Harley only able to see the back of his head.

But Peter’s gorgeous.

His brown curls are messy from the last few hours of cheering on the sidelines and the halftime show, some of it still sticking to his forehead. His pale skin is practically glowing in the lights of the field, bambi-brown eyes sparkling and wide, and chest still heaving from the exertion of their last, over-the-top performance. His arms are practically straining in the tight t-shirt he’s wearing, the gold accents making his eyes look a little more honey, smile wide on his face.

“I, uh-” Harley chokes out, cursing himself for acting dumb. “Thank you. You guys were pretty incredible.”

“Thanks.” A soft blush rises on his cheeks, makes him look down, smile turning shy. “Good luck on your next game. The Brooklyn Team’s the best in state.”

Harley can’t help the frown. “You won’t be there?”

“I’ve got Academic Decathlon competition in DC that weekend. But good luck anyways.”

“You too…” Harley feels like his chest is constricting over the knowledge that Peter’s smart too. “I, uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

Peter smiles sweetly and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

* Over the next few weeks of short conversations after games or practices, Harley finds himself watching Peter all the time.

Peter wears his cheerleading uniform all day everyday like the others do, head held high and students parting for him like he’s royalty. He’s friends with pretty much everyone, sending smiles and having short conversations as he goes down the hallway to class.

He’s also unbelievably kind, stopping teasing at every chance he gets, using his popularity to keep people in line, being nice to even the nerdiest looking freshmen.

Harley finds himself falling hard the longer he knows Peter.

Watching the way he moves with grace and confidence in such contrast to the way he blushes and smiles shyly whenever he’s complimented. It makes Harley’s heart clench with this crush that feels like it’s developing way too fast for his own comfort.

* “Could I talk to you?” Peter asks him after practice.

Harley’s still sweaty, still uncomfortably warm in his pads and uniform, helmet dangling from his fingertips leaving his hair messy and ruffled. But he offers a smile. “Yeah, everything okay?”

The cheerleader looks uncomfortable, turning his gaze to the grass, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Hey,” Harley says, voice dropping low and quiet as he pulls them farther away from their teams, trying his best to keep his thoughts away from Peter’s bicep flexing wondrously beneath his fingers. “You can talk to me, whatever it is.”

“It’s just embarrassing…” Peter looks up at Harley through his eyelashes. “My grades have dropped in a few of my classes, and I know we only share Spanish, but I kinda got MJ to snoop and it turns out you have one of the highest GPA’s in school.”

Harley frowns because that can’t possibly be right. “From what I’ve seen in Spanish class, you seem really smart.”

“Well, I don’t want to sound overly confident, but I am smart. I’ve just had a bad habit of slacking off when it comes to homework. So my grades aren’t looking too hot and my aunt threatened to make drop out of cheerleading if I didn’t get it in order.”

Offering a reassuring smile, Harley nods. “Not really tutoring, but I can sit with you in the library and help you work through the homework? More like study date- sessions. Study sessions.”

Peter positively lights up in a grin. “Wow, really? Thank you! I��ve got cheerleading practice three nights a week and Academic Decathlon every other night, so I’m not really free, but if you’re willing to hang out after your football practices…”

“Yeah, of course, sounds perfect. We’ll start Wednesday?”

“Yes! Thank you! I promise I’ll be a good study partner. I’ll see you around, Harley!”

And with that, Peter skips off to catch up with his cheerleader friends.

Harley can only shake his head in wonder and head off to the lockers.

* Wednesday comes quickly, and Harley’s glad because with how much time he spends daydreaming about Peter, he’s not sure he can keep up his grades either.

But soon enough, he’s waiting outside the locker rooms for Peter, hoping that the shower was enough to wash away the sweat from the tough practice.

“Hey!” Peter says, bubbly and smiling brightly. “I know we said we’d study at the library, but I’m getting a little bit sick of being inside all day. Do you want to work out on the bleachers?”

Harley nods, swallowing thickly and trying his best to keep his eyes strictly on Peter face and not watch his arms or his neck or his legs. “Sounds good.”

They head out into the setting sun, playfully nudging shoulders and nearly racing each other to get to the bleachers first, which ends in Peter laughing and shouting when he makes it their first.

“So, I heard from MJ this morning that you were being unbelievably humble when you said you were smart. She said you have a genius IQ. And you needed study help, why?”

“I told you,” Peter says, laughing. “I haven’t done homework in nearly three years. My grades are solely based on test scores and participation which would be fine if the take-home projects weren’t weighted so heavily.”

Harley rolls his eyes but takes out his Chemistry textbook anyways. “Alright, let’s get you caught up then. You’ve got nearly two months of homework to catch up on.”

“Let’s do this then.”

It turns out, Harley loves watching Peter work. He really is a genius, easily getting the work done like it’s second nature to him, able to answer mathematical equations without a calculator or a second thought, speed reading his way through chapters in the textbook. And it definitely helps that he looks absolutely stunning in the light of the setting sun and the gentle wind.

Eventually, though, they can’t stay much longer with the fading, and curfew closing in.

“Thanks for your help today… Same time Friday?” Peter asks, eyes all wide and hopeful, smile sweet.

“Actually, not to be presumptuous, but we’d have more time if we hung out for longer… Would you want to come over? Spend the night? We could work later and get more done on Saturday?”

Peter thinks about it for a moment and then he shrugs. “I don’t think my aunt would be happy with me spending the night, but you’re welcome to come to mine?”

“Sounds like a plan, Parker. You need a ride home?”

“Sure, yeah, thanks.”

Harley helps pack up their things and then takes Peter’s bag before leading him out to his truck. He opens the door for Peter, memorizing the dazzling smile he gives in return.

They only have half an hour together on the drive home, but it’s enough time for them to share more personal information.

Harley tells Peter about his sister and his mom, about Tennessee and how different life was there, how much he loves New York in comparison. He talks about getting quarterback, winning games, being on top of the social hierarchy for the first time in his life.

Peter, in turn, mentions quietly how he was bullied in the ninth grade before and when he first joined the cheerleaders. How at first, people told him it was girls team, that it wasn’t meant for him. But then they won their first trophy which snowballed into him becoming captain and leading them to win nationals and get them fifth in worlds. And then, very quickly, he became the most popular kid in school.

By the time they reach Peter’s apartment, Harley feels like they’ve grown closer and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to him.

“Today was really nice,” Peter murmurs, leaning across to kiss Harley on the cheek. “Thanks for helping me out. I’ll see you at school tomorrow and then Friday night?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue, wanting to ask Peter out, change Friday Night into a Date Night instead of a Study Session.

But then Peter’s hopping out of his truck, bag slung over his shoulder and gold accents of his uniform glimmering in the streetlights. And Harley misses his chance.

* Peter’s quiet the whole way to his apartment, bag sitting in his lap.

He looks almost out of place in the outside world while still in his Midtown Cheerleading Uniform. But Harley’s still in his jersey, so it’s not so strange in comparison.

Peter leads him into his cozy apartment, empty apart from them, and they make themselves at home in the living room around the coffee table.

“Everything okay?” Harley asks, almost startling himself with his own voice. He was planning on leaving it alone, he’s not really Peter’s friend.

“Yeah, I just kind of have a lot riding on this.” Peter’s quiet for a second, fiddling with his nails before he explains, “I can’t afford to go to a school like Midtown, but I got awarded a full ride. If I don’t get my grades up, I might be put on academic probation, have my scholarship taken away… I’d have to switch schools for my senior year, also meaning I’d probably lose the university scholarships I might’ve been offered for cheerleading.”

Harley mulls over it for a moment before shrugging. “Well, you have a very good study partner on your side. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your grades are up by exams. Don’t start thinking of the worst-case scenarios just yet.”

The tenseness leaves Peter’s shoulders in one exhale, expression softening. “Thanks. I don’t want to put pressure on you, but-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Smiling, Peter opens his bag and they get to work.

Time passes quickly when they’re focused on getting things done, it’s not hard for Peter to get closer and closer to catching up, but there’s only so much they can do before boredom and hunger starts to set in.

They order pizza, Harley offering to pay but Peter insistent after Harley’s helped him so much.

“You know,” Harley says after Peter gets off the phone, “Breaks are important to keep up consistent work.”

Peter grins knowingly, flopping down onto the couch beside Harley. “Are they?”

“As an avid homework-doer and studier, I can totally say that breaks are important. So, I suggest we do pizza and a movie, and then a bit more work before bed.”

“Of course. And as someone who doesn’t do homework or study, I can’t disagree with anything you say. Here.” Peter gives him the TV remote. “Let me go get changed, I can only wear this for so long before I start craving sweatpants, and when I get back, we’ll start on a movie of your choosing.”

Harley picks out Star Wars, seemingly a safe bet considering the very obvious Star Wars poster stuck to the wall above the couch, and texts Abbie in the meantime who teases him endlessly, already having figured out his crush on Peter.

“Star Wars! It’s like you read my mind!” Peter calls out, slipping around the couch.

“I mean there’s science so it’s-” But the words are gone as soon as he sees Peter.

He looks so much different than the Cheerleading Captain Harley’s always seen him as, tucked in a pair of loose sweatpants and an even looser t-shirt, hair mussed and body relaxed. God, if Harley thought he looked incredible in his uniform, it’s nothing compared to the way he looks relaxed and content in lounge clothes.

“So it’s…” Peter prompts, forehead creasing but smiling in amusement.

“Sorry, I- You’re just- Sorry, I’ve never seen you outside your uniform before,” Harley says, voice suddenly thick. “The movie’s educational, that’s all.”

Peter giggles, sitting down beside Harley, against Harley, and presses play so the beginning credits begin to roll. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, but I don’t think Star Wars counts as educational.”

“It is a compliment!” Harley gasps, higher than he means it to come out. “I was just surprised is all… You’re- It’s just- Wow.”

He laughs again. “Wow? For someone with a nearly perfect GPA, that’s not the most articulate compliment.”

“I meant- Oh god, I’m totally embarrassing myself, aren’t I?” He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his face flush warmly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s sweet. I get a lot of compliments, but most about how my ass looks in the uniform, so I do appreciate being complimenting for being wow while in sweats.”

Harley’s eyes go wide, and he’s quick to try to redeem himself, “You’re just really pretty is all! That was worse than wow, wasn’t it? I’m just making this worse.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Peter repeats, eyes so soft and open and earnest. “That’s a new one.”

For once, Harley manages to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to say anything more, but Peter’s still blushing and smiling when he turns back to the TV, shaking his head fondly.

Long after pizza and their movie’s done, homework continued through until they were laughing too much to continue to think straight, Peter finally calls it a night.

Harley changes in the bathroom and purposefully leaves his jersey on the back of the couch, while Peter makes him a bed on the couch.

It would’ve been a good time, Harley knows, to ask that question, to see if this will lead in another direction, but he chickens out and ends up just with, “Goodnight, Peter.”

And Peter smiles, all warm and sweet, and he murmurs, “Night, Harley.”

And that’s that.

In the morning, Harley wakes to the smell of coffee.

He pretends he’s still asleep when he hears voices drifting in from the kitchen.

“So that’s the infamous Harley Keener,” a woman says, Harley guesses it’s Peter’s aunt.

“He’s helping me get my grades up.”

The woman laughs. “For someone with a genius IQ, I don’t know how you managed to let your grades drop like that. It’s not his fault? Or cheerleading?”

“No, May, I promise I’m working on it.”

“Good. Don’t let him get in the way of your education or focus, honey. Don’t let him hurt you, alright?”

Harley finally stretches up, making himself known as awake. He yawns, looking over the back of the couch towards the kitchen. “Morning.”

Peter lights up in a smile. “Morning, Harley. You want coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He slips up just as May says she’s off to bed, still wearing her nurse scrubs, and he offers a quiet greeting to her on her way out.

And then it’s just him and Peter.

“Sleep well?” Harley asks when the silence stretches a second too long. Peter nods, passing him the mug of hot coffee. It’s a Star Wars mug and he can feel his cheeks warm.

“We don’t really have much breakfast food… You wanna maybe go out somewhere to get some?”

Harley, still sleep-warm and relaxed, jumps as the chance. “Do you want to go out? Like on a proper date? Breakfast? On me?”

“The quarterback with the cheerleading captain?” Peter says. “That’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. Is that a no?”

Peter seems to ponder it for a moment before he shrugs. “I kind of love clichés.”

“Breakfast then.”

Grinning, Peter nods, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Let me get dressed and then we’ll go.”

“Perfect.”

As soon as he’s left alone in the kitchen, he pumps his fists in the air, barely managing to stifle his excited cheer.

“I saw that!” Peter calls out.

Flushing, Harley quickly sets down his coffee, grabs his bag and heads to the bathroom to get changed quickly, wishing he’d packed something nicer than jeans and a flannel.

“I’m surprised you’re not in your uniform,” he says when he sees Peter waiting by the door.

He’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a simple t-shirt, grinning just as bright as always.

“I only wear it at school.”

Harley shrugs. “I was starting to think it was the only thing you owned.”

Peter links their hands together and pulls open the door, smiling just as bright as ever.

* All eyes turn towards the cafeteria doors.

“Oh my god-” Betty breathes from near Harley.

He looks over his shoulder, expecting to see something vaguely newsworthy but otherwise boring, but instead finds Peter.

Peter who’s wearing his blue and gold cheerleading uniform as always, curls messy and cheeks flushed pink, except he’s wearing a jersey over his uniform.

Harley’s jersey.

“Who changed the thermostat settings? I’m freezing to death,” Peter calls out, dramatically loudly to get the rest of the student’s eyes on him.

Harley trips up to his feet, eyes wide and shocked because after one date, Peter’s already announcing it to the world.

“You left this at my place,” Peter says, walking up to him. His eyes are bright and amused like he expected Harley to get this flustered. His voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I know it’s soon but I saw you staring, saw you watching me during practices. The only reason I saw is because I was watching you too. I want to make this official.”

“Yeah, I- Yeah, I want that.”

Peter grins, kissing Harley on the mouth for the first time, they’d parted yesterday with only a kiss on the cheek. When he pulls away, he’s still smiling. “Sorry about doing this here. I couldn’t wait. Too much?”

“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes,” Harley chokes out. “I’m just- You look good. I didn’t expect you to like me too.”

“I do. I really do.”

Harley finally smiles back at him, grabbing Peter by the waist to kiss him again. “You want to go out with me again? Wednesday? After practice?”

“I would love to. Can I- Would it be okay for it to be as boyfriends?”

“Okay? Yes, more than okay. I would really love that.”

Peter laughs, tucking himself close to Harley’s chest. “Wow. Boyfriends.”

For the rest of the year and the following year, they’re considered Midtown’s Power Couple.

And when they make it MIT together, Peter having managed near-perfect grades with Harley’s help, they’re considered MIT’s Power Couple too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #lyss answers #parkner #peter parker #harley keener #may parker #abbie keener #parkner fic #harley keener/peter parker

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