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coff33notforme · 10 months

Text

Atsv characters reaction to you calling them baby girl

A/n: Just silly little headcannons because this prompt has been living in my head rent free, also I’m adding Atsv to my writing list so feel to request headcannons. Pairing: Pavtri, Gwen, Hobie, and Miguel and Gn reader (Separately, Platonic or Romantic, just random bullshit I don’t know, headcannons )

Gwen: You’d just returned from an incredibly draining mission, your body ached with each tense step you took

But as soon as you saw Gwen leaned over one counter tops in dining hall you couldn’t help but feel a childish joy bubble up from in your chest

Wrapping your arms around her waist as you embraced her with a smile you whispered

“How’s my baby girl doing today?”

And she fucking freezes, your what?

You had never called her anything like that before, she can’t help but feel a smile of confusion creep it’s way onto her face

“What, what did you just call me?”

She asks with a smile

She’s not mad at all, just confused as to what brought this on, but after you repeat it she shakes her head with a breathy laugh as she turns to hug you

She doesn’t really mind the nickname, I mean it’s not like she’s in love with it, but she finds your strange nature oddly endearing

Whenever you use it In front of others though, lord have mercy, she’ll do that thing where she freezes up and her eyes go wide as she tries to cover up what you were saying to her

Hobie and Pav tease the shit out of her

One time just to test the waters you used the name In front of Miguel, when I tell you she froze, I mean like a deer in headlights as she turned to you with the biggest glare she could offer

Miguel only scowls at the two of you as he rubbed his temple with a frustrated sigh

“Y/n, Gwen, at least try to keep this professional.”

She wouldn’t talk to you for two weeks after that

But once her anger had subsided she found herself getting used it too it

Pavtri:

You were in the kitchen, bent cookie recipe with furrowed brows as your eyes scanned the paragraph of instructions your eyes fell upon one particular ingredient

Sugar

How could you have forgotten to buy some? With a groan you shifted your body to face Pavtri who had been laid out on the couch watching you work for the past hour of so, he looked over to you confused as to way you seemed so distressed

“Hey, Baby girl?”

You called out to him in only the sweetest tone, he couldn’t fight the smile that managed it’s way onto his now brightly grinning face

“Yes? My prissy pissy poo poo bear?”

At his ridiculous nickname, you couldn’t help but to burst out with a loud fit of laughter, as you clutched your stomach you turned back to Pav

“What, did you just call me?”

“What did you call me?”

He shot back with a lopsided smile

From then on anytime you used the nickname he only racked his brain for something ten times as ridiculous as what you had called him

You’ve compiled a list of all the weird shit he’s said

Anytime he does this you let out a soft snort and a quiet fit of giggles following this, and this only encourages Pav to keep going, he’s addicted to the sound of your laughter

But honestly he loves the nickname, the idea of him being yours and yours only, makes his heart flutter

Hobie:

The idea had come to you a long time ago, you had to admit, that you found the idea of calling Hobie baby girl, was at least a little funny to you if not incredibly tempting

With a shit eating grin crawling up onto your face, you’d found Hobie in his room, tweaking his electric guitar as he sat on his bed

His head shot up at he noticed your frimillar figure slinking through his door, he offered you a lazy smirk as he placed his guitar to his right as he opened his arms for you

“How ya been doin’ love?”

He drew out, you felt your smile only widened as you returned his embrace

“Not too well without my baby girl.”

You teased as you placed yourself onto his lap, kissing his cheek with a hum

“Damn Right.”

Just accepts it, baby, he’s whatever you want him to be

Malewife, babygirl, you name it he’s yours

He just loves you call him yours, and if you want he’ll call you the same

Miguel:

It was a dare, it was a dare, fucking Peter B Parker would be the death of you

Miguel was right there, this was all you had to do before you could leave, this was it, it was only for a moment and then you were gone

Miguel sat alone in his office, his head propped up in one arm as his eyes tiredly drifted through the monitor screens, with signature pout plastered to his face

With a deep breath, you turned and shot Peter one last glare as he smiled to you offering you a encouraging thumbs up as you stepped into

Miguel’s office, Miguel slowly turned his office chair as he looked to you with a bored look on his face

“Do you want something, Y/n.”

He spat, he didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but as he saw you wince slightly at his tone he couldn’t help but sigh, as he ran his hand through his messy hair

“What is it?”

He asked slightly softer than before, you drew in a deep breath as you approached him cupping his face with one hand as you kissed his other cheek

“Nothing much, just wanted to see my baby girl.”

You muttered against his skin

Miguel tensed up as soon as those words left your lips

“What the fuck did you just call me.”

At first you froze, you didn’t know if he was going to blow up, but much to your surprise

Miguel pushed you away as he quickly turned away letting out a string of irritated groans and growls as he held his face in his hands

He was so fucking glad you couldn’t see what an effect your words had on him, his face had glown bright red

There was no way, he actually fucking liked that, this only caused him to growl louder which had you flinching

“Get out!”

He barked which had you scampering out of his office as fast as possible, he needed to cool of now, but he was definitely going to make it up to you later

————————————————————

Requests are open teehee

#astv #spiderverse x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman x reader #spider punk #gwen x reader #hobie x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderverse pavitr #across the spiderverse

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theres-a-body-here · 6 months

Note

Yikes I am about to expose myself with this…

Could I get a prompt with an absolutely touch starved (but also incredibly horny) reader and König?

Basically reader is super touch starved and all shy, but is absolutely ready to burst within minutes, but also can’t get enough of this feeling and wants more, eventually getting overstimulated? And König is all shy but obliges? Not self projecting onto reader I promise <3

-Pillow Prince anon (I have more unhinged ones, but let’s start off light…)

König x Male!reader

As you lay naked on the bed, your hard cock throbbing with desire, you couldn't help but feel amused by your predicament. König stood above you, completely clothed in his military gear, looking like he wanted nothing more than to disappear into thin air. His anxiety was palpable as he fidgeted awkwardly, unsure how to proceed.

You decided that it was time for you to take charge since poor König seemed too scared to make any moves. With a nervous smile of your own, you grabbed hold of his wrist and slowly guided his hand towards your twitching member.

As König's trembling hand wrapped around your cock, you let out a soft moan. The sensation sent waves of heat coursing through your body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. Encouraged by your reaction, König slowly began stroking you, his fingers gliding along your length with growing confidence.

You could see the determination in König's eyes now; he wanted to please you, even if it meant stepping outside of his comfort zone.

It was both endearing and incredibly hot to watch him try so hard to give you pleasure.

"Ich.. I don't know if ich am doing zis right," König stammered, his accent thickening under pressure. "Fühlt sich das gut an?"

"Mmmm, yes…" you panted, arching your hips off the mattress as König continued to stroke you. "You're doing great, just keep going."

"Oh Gott, danke," König breathed, visibly relieved by your reassurance. With renewed vigour, he sped up his movements, running his thumb across the sensitive head of your cock.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you brought your own hand to your mouth, biting down on your knuckles to stifle a loud cry of ecstasy. König seemed taken aback by your reaction but didn't stop.

Using one hand to tease the slit of your throbbing erection, he used the other to maintain a steady rhythm along your length.

The stimulation had you reduced to a whiny mess beneath him, unable to control the needy sounds escaping your lips. It was clear that König enjoyed watching you lose control, his breath coming faster as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh God, König! Please...please, please!" you cried out, your words muddled with lust.

In a low, husky voice, he replied, "Schh, alles wird gut sein. Sei still und genieße es."

As if on cue, König picked up speed once again, using his free hand to massage your balls. The combination of sensations proved too much for you to bear, and suddenly, you were arching off the bed as you came violently all over König's.

Panting heavily from exertion, you collapsed onto the bed, feeling spent. König followed suit, lying beside you and using his sticky fingers to rub your chest, spreading your cum across your skin. The coolness of your seed contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from your flushed body, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

Without saying a word, König reached for a nearby towel and gently cleaned up the mess.

Once cleaned up, he moved closer, resting his heavy head on your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist. Despite his initial nervousness, it seemed that König craved you just as much as you craved him.

#cod x male reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #male reader #male!reader #cod mw2 #könig cod #könig x reader #könig x male reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2

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neteyamslovrr · 1 year

Note

29, fluff with Tsu’tey??

GIFT OF SONG

i love my tsu'tey <33 it was nice to write smthn abt him that wasn't complete angst LOL, hope you enjoy bby

You were told that being blessed with the gift of song was a true blessing from Eywa. To sing like harmonies themselves were created within you, it was truly a gift.

Your weakness however was your inability to show it off to anyone. You were reserved, tending to opt for silent foraging rather than large hunts. Or quiet fishing with your bow rather than communal festivities.

Some looked at you poorly for this choice in your activities. But it wasn’t as if you didn’t want to be around your people, you simply enjoyed the solitude of yourself more.

Though recently, the fierce, proud, and strong warrior Tsu’tey was confused but your odd behaviours. As children he never took notice of you, and that habit expanded into his adolescence. But as he grew older he started to take note of the women in the clan. Well, the prettier women.

You were beauty itself to Tsu’tey, truly a blessing to the eyes and to his home. So he was naturally curious to see what you spent your days doing rather than spending it with the clan.

So he followed you down to the river, hoping to spark a conversation with you, get to know you more. You were sat on your knees, picking herbs off the ground into a weathered basket, that had obviously been used many times. He must make you a new one he thought.

He was caught up in his own fantasies as he stared at you, trying to think of all possible scenarios that would occur if he were to approach you. He was obsessing with the thought that you would immediately take interest in him as well. Eywa, he prayed you took interest.

It wasn’t until a divine sound resounded within his now perked up ears. Focusing he realised that the sound was coming from you. Singing as if you were the creator of the first songs. You were magical to listen to.

Tsu’tey wishes he kept his usual composure up for longer, so he could listen to your harmonious voice just a tad longer. He cursed himself for being so impulsive with his actions, it was out of character for him.

“I did not know you could sing Y/N” You let out a loud gasp. Grasping onto your chest in shock, staring wide eyed up at the man towering above you.

Was the Tsu’tey talking to you? Y’know the tall, strong, lean, handsome, fierce warrior that protects your clan day and night. And he caught you singing. You might die of embarrassment. Right here, crumble into the floor and become one with the soil.

“That was purposeful.” You spoke back to him, turning away from his merciless stare, cheeks burning up as he shuffled to get a better view of your face.

“You sing well.” He said it so nonchalantly it made your heart burst, stomach churning as you tried to calm down your nerves.

“Thankyou Tsu’tey.” You were collecting your stuff now, ready to escape this interaction with such an attractive man.

“Why have I never heard you sing before?” You halted in your spot, grip on the basket in your hand tight as you tried desperately to conjure a response that didn’t make you look incredibly odd to the curious warrior in front of you.

“I am not one for performing.” It was easier then explaining your dread of interaction just like this one.

“Hiding such a gift is cruel. You have been truly blessed by the great mother.” Tsu’tey was spilling his thought as if he was the pouring rain, flooding you with compliments. Something about you made his tough composure, you melted it away.

“Thankyou again, but I don’t believe my gift is for the public eye.”

“Can it be for the private eye?” Your eyes widened, shocked at his confidence. To ask such a question. It wasn’t taboo but it was showing a sense of attraction. Was the man you were insanely attracted to feeling the same?

“What do you mean?” An innocent question. Totally not one that lingers for an answer towards courtship, towards the acts of wanting another clan member.

“I’d love to hear your voice again. May I take you on a flight, show you the spots of the forest that have enticed me. Like your voice has. Like you have.” Tsu’tey was courageous, he was charming and his charms did not faulter. Your cheeks were a dark purple, skin hot as your stomach whirled.

“Yes you may.”

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey imagine #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar oneshot #tsu'tey avatar #tsu'tey fic #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey fluff #tsu'tey drabble

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sisterspooky1013 · 6 months

Text

Gaslight, Chapter 26/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Washington, D.C.

He pushes his face into the crook of her neck and she giggles. It’s not a sound he’s ever heard her make before, and it feels like his heart might burst.

He’s sandwiched between her and the back of the couch, and his arms are wrapped around her waist, holding her steady against him. Her breath smells sour, like hops, and the heat of her back against his chest is just so—right. It just feels so fucking good to be close to her like this.

“Stop it,” she whines, but he can see by the way her cheek is puffed up that she’s grinning.

He does it again, but this time he presses his lips to the soft skin of her neck. She makes a little sound like a stifled gasp and her body goes rigid, and he immediately pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says, loosening his grip on her as his cheeks flame.

“No, it’s okay,” she insists, grabbing his hand to stop him. “You just surprised me. I’m not used to…”

“Old habits die hard,” he finishes for her, and she nods. “Take two?” he asks, lowering his mouth to her neck.

She tilts her head to the side in invitation, and when his lips brush across her skin she sighs.

“That feels good,” she says quietly, like she’s telling him a secret.

And it does. It feels so good. So incredibly good.

When he first opens his eyes, he’s momentarily confused by his surroundings. The room is dim and still, with none of the familiar sounds or smells of home. He turns his head to one side and sees an end table with a lamp and a digital clock on it that reads 6:35 am. He turns his head to the other side and sees the chestnut tangle of Diana’s hair on the pillow, and the curve of her waist. He’s still in D.C.

He swings his feet over the side of the bed and sits up, then stretches his back. Several loud pops sound off along his spine and Diana stirs and rolls over.

“Jeff?” she says groggily, and he grunts in response. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he says. “I think I’ll shower and head home.”

She sits up and turns on the bedside lamp, and he blinks against the blast of light on his dilated pupils.

“I’m going to go home with you,” she says in an uncharacteristically tender voice. “The rest of the firm can manage without me, and I think we could use some quality time together.”

He twists around to look at her. She’s sleep rumpled but alert, and the corners of her mouth quirk up a little in a sympathetic smile.

“What about your car?” he asks, and she opens her mouth, but then closes it.

“I can ask one of the records clerks to drive it back up,” she suggests.

“You don’t have to do that, Diana, we can just meet up at the house,” he objects.

“No, I want to,” she insists. “I’ve been gone so much lately, and I see now how that affected you. I want to drive you home, Jeff. We can stop by that NSA museum in Annapolis you were telling me about.”

“The National Cryptologic Museum?” he clarifies, and she nods. “Okay,” he says, returning her smile. “That sounds really nice.”

She joins him in the shower, and while he appreciates the extra attention she seems determined to bestow on him, he’s too unsettled from the day before to respond to her advances. He makes an excuse, telling her he’d rather wait until they’re in the comfort of their own bed, and she is disappointed but understanding. He steps out and towels off in the bedroom, and she joins him a few minutes later with dripping wet hair.

“I’m gonna go get us some breakfast,” he tells her as he dresses in jeans and a black T-shirt. “Take your time getting ready.”

“Thanks,” she replies, puckering her lips and waiting for him to cross the room and kiss her goodbye.

Outside the hotel, the rising sun has already warmed away the dew of night, and the only people out are locals and the occasional overzealous tourist trying to be first in line for the museums. He walks a few blocks until he smells the skunky aroma of coffee beans and follows it around the corner to a small cafe. There’s no line, just a few people waiting at the end of the bar for their drinks, and he steps up to the register as he peruses the menu.

“Good morning, let me know when you’re ready to order,” says a twenty-something barista with grown out pink hair.

He orders two large black coffees, one with room, and two blueberry muffins, and pays with his credit card. The barista directs him to wait at the end of the bar, and within a few minutes he has the coffee and pastries in hand. He pops the lid on the cup with room and goes about mixing in Sweet and Low and cream to Diana’s specifications, stashing a couple extra packets in his pocket in case it’s not sweet enough.

“Mulder,” someone says, and he snaps his head over to see a man with long blond hair and square black glasses staring at him. “I mean, um, Jeff. Jeff Spender?” the man corrects himself, taking one step closer.

Jeff looks around, though he couldn’t say what he’s looking for. The man seems to be debating what to say next, and he looks remarkably nervous.

“Who are you?” Jeff asks. “Why did you call me that?”

Now the man looks around, then beckons someone with a tilt of his head. Jeff follows his eye and sees a tall brown-haired man approaching, dressed sharply in a polo and slacks. The two men make eyes at one another, and the brown-haired man speaks.

“Mr. Spender,” he says smoothly, offering his hand. “My name is John Fitzgerald Byers, and this is my associate Richard Langly.”

Jeff takes his hand and shakes it, looking back and forth between the two men skeptically.

“Do I know you?” he asks, and the men exchange a look.

“No, you don’t,” the one called Byers says. “But we believe that we may have some information that will be of interest to you.”

Fear and curiosity war as he tries to get a read on the men. They don’t immediately strike him as nefarious, but neither did Nick. He looks at both their ears, trying to detect a wire.

“You called me Mulder. Why?” he asks the blond man, Langly.

Langly opens his mouth, but Byers speaks for him.

“Does that name mean something to you?”

“It might,” Jeff answers noncommittally.

The three of them stand there, and he has the distinct sense that they are each guarding their own hand, unsure what to show and what to hold. He knows that trusting them is risky, and at the same time this could be his last chance to get answers before Diana tightens his leash for good.

“Who is Mulder?” he asks, and the blond man’s head cocks back like he’s struck by the question. “What?” Jeff asks him pointedly, and the man looks over at his friend for help.

“You are Mulder,” Byers says simply, with a bob of his head.

The corners of Jeff’s mouth quirk and he narrows his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks, shaking his head.

“You used to go by the name Fox Mulder. That’s what we knew you as,” Byers says, indicating his friend.

There’s a long pause as Jeff tries to orient this information in his brain. He very quickly comes to the conclusion that it is at once impossible and ridiculous.

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” he says, somewhat angrily, “but I would really appreciate it if you could tell me who the hell Mulder is and why people keep calling me by his name.”

“We’d like to help you,” Byers says, lowering his voice in an attempt to encourage Jeff to do the same, which is a trick he’s leveraged with his clients. “But we only have limited information. We can put you in touch with someone who knows more, though, if you’d like.”

Jeff looks at the two coffees and muffins sitting on the bar. Diana is waiting for him.

“I need to make a phone call,” he says as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Of course. We’ll be right outside,” Byers says, and the two men exit the shop.

He taps his foot against the floor as the phone rings and rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” he says, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, you, how’s the coffee coming?” Diana replies sweetly.

“Well, it was coming until I dropped it on the sidewalk two steps from the hotel door, if you can believe it.” He closes his eyes and cringes as he lies, like he can keep the guilt out if he doesn’t look right at it.

Diana chuckles. “I can, actually.”

“I’m going to run back and grab a new one, so I’ll be a little bit longer. They were pretty busy so it might take a while. Just didn’t want you to wonder where I was.”

He’s unpleasantly surprised by how easy it is. How smoothly it rolls off his tongue.

“I appreciate that. Good luck. Maybe ask for one of those drink cradle things this time.”

“Will do. Talk to you soon,” he says, and begins to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Jeff?” she says, stopping him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

It’s a sucker punch in the gut, and he hunches over a little at the impact.

“I love you too, Diana. I’ll see you soon.”

He insists on driving his own car, and follows their Volkswagen bus just a few minutes before it pulls into the garage of a small white house. Jeff parks on the sidewalk and approaches the door, which opens before he reaches the front porch. The brown-haired man is there, smiling and inviting him to come inside.

The air smells warm and electric, like overheated plastic and lysol. Though the logical part of his brain tells him to be careful, he finds that he feels oddly comfortable as he passes into a living area that is lined with tables and computer equipment.

“What is this place?” he asks as he walks around, reading random documents and examining unfamiliar devices.

“Holy shit! Mulder!”

He turns to see a third man, shorter and older than the other two, looking at him as though he were an apparition.

“Mr. Spender, this is Melvin Frohike,” Byers introduces them. “We ran into Mr. Spender over at Burial Grounds,” he explains.

“Did you call Scully?” the man named Frohike asks, and Jeff’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Dana Scully?” he asks urgently, and both men’s jaws drop open.

“You know Dana Scully?” Byers asks him.

“No. I know of her,” he says. “We met once.”

“You met a helluva lot more than once,” Frohike murmurs, and Byers jabs him in the ribcage with an elbow.

“Langly just went to get her,” he says. “She’ll be here very soon.”

“Is that who…that’s the person you said will have more information about Mulder?” Jeff asks.

The men look at him for a beat.

“Yes,” Byers finally says. “You should be aware that there are still significant gaps in information that we’re actively trying to fill, but she knows more than anyone else.”

They offer him a seat and a beverage, and he accepts the former but declines the latter, slumping into an armchair.

“My wife is waiting for me,” he says with some irritation. “Will this take long?”

“I’m not really sure,” Byers says. “It doesn’t take long to explain the situation, however you may have some questions.”

“When you said that Mulder is me, what did you mean?”

Byers sits on one end of a couch that’s perpendicular to the chair and rests his elbows on his knees.

“I meant exactly what I said, but I know that probably doesn’t make much sense to you right now,” he says gently.

They hear the rumble of the garage door opening, and they all wait. A sick, nervous feeling churns in Jeff’s belly, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s due to the possibility that he’s about to get answers, or because he knows that any moment Diana will call and ask where he is.

“Where is he?” he hears an urgent, harried voice say from another part of the house.

“Right through here,” the voice of Langly answers, and suddenly she’s there, standing in the doorway to the living room.

She’s small, both in height and mass, maybe more so than he remembers. She’s wearing blue jeans and a white button-up blouse, and her hair is much neater than their first encounter. Her face, just as beautiful, is scrunched up in an expression of absolute agony, though there is relief there, too.

“Mulder,” she croaks, taking several quick steps towards him.

He sits up and stiffens, and she halts as she reads his body language.

“You’re Dana Scully,” he says, and she nods in confirmation. “Thank you for coming over,” he tells her. “I’m hoping you can help me understand who Mulder is and why people keep calling me by his name, yourself included.”

Her shoulders drop, and he watches the bit of relief on her face drain away as her eyes grow wet. She looks over at Byers, who is still seated on the couch near him.

“He doesn’t remember?” she asks, and Byers shakes his head with a sympathetic frown.

“Remember what?” Jeff asks, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on? My wife is expecting me back; I don’t have much time.”

“Your wife,” Dana repeats under her breath like it’s a dirty word.

“Why don’t you take my spot here, Agent Scully, and fill Mr. Spender in,” Byers says as he stands.

“You called me Agent Scully,” Dana says with what sounds like pleasant surprise, and Byers stops and looks at her for a beat.

“I did. That’s what I always call you,” he tells her, and a pained smile breaks out over her mouth. Even all tear-stained and twisted up, it’s a beautiful smile.

She sits down on the couch, stealing little glances at him as she gets comfortable. The way she looks at him is so familiar, the way someone who knows the story behind every scar might look at you, and it makes him a little uncomfortable.

“I have to preface this by saying that it will sound completely unbelievable, but I assure you that it’s all true,” she begins. She catches his eye and holds it, and a feeling of calm relaxes him just for a moment. “Two months ago, I woke up in the hospital and was told that I sustained a head injury. I had no memory of my accident, nor any events of my life since some point after 1992. I didn’t remember my husband, or my children, or the deaths of my father and sister. I tried to carry on with my life, but something didn’t seem right.”

She stops and looks at him again, gauging whether he is still with her. He nods, and she continues.

“I’ve since come to learn that I’m not married, and I don’t have children. I did not sustain a head injury. For reasons that I’m still working to understand, my memory was manipulated. Erased. I was not employed as a doctor, as I was led to believe, but rather I was a Special Agent with the FBI, and I was partnered with a man named Mulder. He and I witnessed something, or became aware of information that we weren’t supposed to see or know, and as a result, this was done to us.”

Again, she pauses and looks at him. He’s still trying to absorb what she’s saying. The fact that she worked for the FBI tracks with what his client said. Memory erasure is not something that is possible, to the best of his knowledge. But those parts feel less consequential. Mulder was her partner. Who is Mulder?

“That sounds like a difficult situation to be in,” he tells her. “You have my empathy, Ms. Scully, but what I’m still not understanding is what this has to do with me, and why I keep being mistaken for this man Mulder.”

Her chin trembles and she bites her lip, then pulls in a steadying breath.

“You are Mulder,” she says, looking right into his eyes. “He is you. You can’t remember because of what they’ve done to you.” She must see the disbelief on his face because she shakes her head and looks at the coffee table. “I wish I had a way to prove it to you.”

He isn’t sure what he was expecting the answer to the Mulder mystery to be, but it wasn’t this.

“My name is Jeffrey Spender,” he says plainly. “I’m a therapist. I’ve been married to my wife Diana for over ten years. I did join the FBI in the eighties, but I never graduated from the training academy at Quantico. Before we crossed paths in the coffee shop, I had never seen you before in my life. I’m sorry, but you have the wrong guy.”

“Come on, man,” Frohike interjects. “Think about it. Why would people keep calling you Mulder? You don’t think that’s a little bit weird?”

“I have no idea,” he admits, “but I’m relatively certain that it’s not because I had my memory erased. That’s not even medically possible, is it?”

“Is there medication you have to take every day?” Dana asks, and he looks at her sharply. “There is, isn’t there? Does your wife make sure you take it?”

He thinks about his blood pressure medication on top of the microwave back in Philly. He hasn’t taken it in days.

“Wives harassing their husbands about taking care of themselves isn’t exactly anomalous,” he says with a shrug. “It’s comic strip material.”

His phone rings, and he silences it.

“Do you have strange dreams about people and places you can’t remember, but they feel familiar?” she asks next, and he sighs.

“I think everyone does. So then are you saying my wife had her memory erased too? She doesn’t take any daily medication.”

Dana sits back in her seat.

“No. I’ve been told that she’s involved,” she says carefully, watching his reaction. “And she isn’t your wife.”

“Involved? In what way?” he asks, immediately defensive.

His phone rings again.

“Is that her?” she asks, and he silences the call. “Does she keep a close eye on you? Always needs to know where you are and with whom?”

“I don’t like what you’re suggesting, Ms. Scully,” he says sharply.

Dana sits up again, rubs her hands over her face, and leans in toward him.

“Please listen to me. Your Manatua Virus vaccine, the one that was administered at the base of your neck? It’s not a vaccine, it’s a computer chip. It interferes with your memory, and it also allows them to track your location. If you don’t answer that phone call, someone will likely be at the front door within the hour.”

The three men give each other fearful looks, clearly believing what this woman is saying. His phone rings again. He flips it open and holds one finger to his mouth.

“Hey, Diana,” he says as soon as he answers. “I’m sorry, something crazy happened at the coffee shop. I’m on my way back now.”

“Something crazy? What do you mean?” she asks in a voice that makes his balls draw up into his body.

“A domestic dispute of sorts. I’ll tell you all about it in five minutes, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting,” she says, and he hangs up, then stands.

“I have to go,” he tells them as he makes his way toward the door.

“Mulder, please,” Dana calls after him, following him into the foyer. “If you remove the chip from your neck, you’ll remember. Please, just let me remove it,” she begs. His hand is on the doorknob when she speaks again.

“Your parents are Teena and Bill. Your sister is Samantha.” He pauses and, taking his hesitance as doubt, she continues. “You hate black olives. You have a scar on your foot from stepping on a beer bottle when you were drunk at Oxford. That scar on your shoulder? I shot you, to keep you safe. You told me once that you—”

“I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is,” he barks as he spins to face her, and she recoils, backing up until she collides with Byers, who lays his hands on top of her shoulders to steady her, “but Diana and I have been together for over a decade. My father’s name is not Bill. My sister died when I was twelve. I never did any actual work for the FBI, and I don’t know who you are. If you could please stop sending people into my life to call me Mulder for whatever twisted reason that motivates you, I would greatly appreciate it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my wife.”

He slams the door behind him and stalks back to his car. He wanted answers, but he’s leaving this place even more confused than he was when he arrived. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they say those things about Diana, about him? What would motivate someone to cook up such a completely implausible story and try to rope him into it? Money? He doesn’t have much of it.

He speeds back toward the hotel, actively working on the details of the story he’ll tell Diana about what waylaid him. Maybe he should punch himself in the face to garner sympathy. Maybe…

He passes by a gentlemen’s club called “Sly Fox” and slams on his brakes. He pulls off to the side of the road as two memories, one fresh and one faded, come together in his mind.

You used to go by the name Fox Mulder. That’s what we knew you as.

That’s it. Yes, Fox.

Diana had called him “fox”, but then lied about it. Why would she do that? Why would anyone do any of this?

His phone rings again. He ignores it.

None of it makes sense. None one bit. Not what that Scully woman said, not any of his theories about why people keep calling him Mulder. Diana would never do something like that to him, even if it were possible, which it’s not. But still, there’s this nagging feeling that there’s a kernel of truth in it. There are so many questions and so few answers. Would he have seen this situation differently years ago, when parapsychology and the mysteries of the universe called to him? When convention and science offer us no answers, might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?

He doesn’t believe that any of it is true. But he also has to admit to himself that he doesn’t completely believe that it isn’t.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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sataniquepanique · 2 years

Text

Do It.

Summary: Eddie's rude neighbor threatens him, and little does she know you are 100% ready to fight for him (and it really turns Eddie on).

Genre: fluff, light smut, standing up for Eddie, 18+ only.

Warnings: cursing, anger, light violence (choking), light smut.

A/N: Writing this because of a real situation that happened recently with myself and my fiancé, only it didn't end exactly like this lol

“Eddie!” You squeal as he tears his van into the trailer park. “Stop making me laugh, I have to pee so bad!” You try to stop giggling, tears rimming your eyes from laughing so hard at some dumb joke Eddie kept running with.

The van lurches to a stop in front of his trailer, both of you still heavily breathing trying to recover from your laughing fits. You wrench the passenger side door open letting the deafening sounds of W.A.S.P. echo into the night. Leaping out, you sprint to the front door. “Eddie! Open the fucking door or I will legitimately piss my pants on your doorstep!” You yell at him, watching him kill the engine and slowly exit the van, pretending to not know what key he needs to open the front door. The second he unlocks it, you rush past him to the bathroom, silently chastising yourself for drinking a large diet coke right before you left the movie theater.

You emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, noticing how quiet the trailer was. Eddie is a bull in a china shop, and you can always hear him no matter what he’s doing. Practicing guitar? Loud. Doing dishes? Loud. Changing the channel on the tv? Fucking loud. He’s incapable of being quiet, so its suspicious that he seemingly followed you into the trailer yet it’s this quiet.

You peer into his room, scanning the stacks of tapes, piles of clothes and other random shit lying about. He’s not in here. You walk down the hall to the kitchen and can see he’s clearly not in the trailer anymore.

He did follow you inside, right? You can’t even remember, with how preoccupied you had been with trying to not piss yourself. That’s when you heard it. There was muffled talking coming from out front. You go to the front door and peer out the window, seeing Eddie talking to a woman you recognize as his neighbor on the corner. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but the look on her face is far from friendly. Eddie seems calm though, smoking a cigarette with one hand in his jacket pocket. The woman says something and Eddie starts to talk with his hands, which he tends to do when he gets emotional. And then you see it. The spark that ignites something inside of your brain, something that makes you see nothing but crimson fucking red. The woman has her finger pointed at Eddie, right at his face, millimeters from his nose, and she’s snarling something at him. You burst through the door, stalking across the yard.

“…ALL HOURS OF THE FUCKING NIGHT! YOU NEED TO KEEP THE GODDAMN MUSIC DOWN OR SO HELP ME GOD…” the woman spits at Eddie as you push past him and stand between them. Her finger that was pointed at his nose, is now touching your forehead as you stare daggers at her, never moving your eyes from hers.

“Is there a problem?” you growl, narrowing your gaze. You can feel Eddie’s presence behind you, and can smell the smoke he’s nervously blowing over your head. He might be loud and abrasive, but the kid is incredibly passive. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and doesn’t enjoy unnecessary confrontation, unless it’s with some dumb jock at school. You on the other hand, love to match people’s energy, especially when they deserved to get absolutely fucked.

“Why don’t you go back to your house.” You warn her, clenching your fists at your side.

“Why don’t you tell your little trailer trash boyfriend to keep his fucking music down?” She sneers at you, lowering her finger.

Ding, ding, bitch.

You step towards her and she puts her hand on your throat, fingers splayed across your jawbone.

You lean into her hand, forcing her to push on your windpipe. Her eyes dart from your face to Eddie’s behind you, and you can see a flash of fear in them.

Leaning in harder you clench your teeth, “do it bitch. Fucking. Do. It.” You feel her elbow cave as she pulls her hand away from you.

You give her the most satanic smile, as you are quickly lifted into the air from behind. Eddie has thrown you over his shoulder and is now carrying you back towards his trailer. The woman yells while walking away, “Redneck pieces of shit!” And you lift your head to see her face as you give her two middle fingers.

Eddie dumps you onto the couch inside the trailer and stands in front of you, one hand on his hip while the other cards through his hair. You can’t read his face, but suddenly you have an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. “Eddie…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to act like that, I just saw her being so aggressive towards you and I blacked out.” You look at him apologetically while he stares at the kitchen avoiding your gaze.

A few seconds pass, and he hasn’t said anything.

“Eddie…talk to me please…” you whisper, standing up and touching his arm.

He gives a dark chuckle and turns to face you.

“That was…without a doubt…the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He stares at you, giving you a wry half smile.

This was far from the reaction you had expected.

Eddie’s dark eyes are boring into yours, his smile has turned sinister, as he snakes one arm around your waist. His other hand grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you into a ferocious kiss, while you brace yourself against his chest by clutching handfuls of his shirt. He wasn’t joking, you could feel how hard he was as you pushed your hips into his.

The hand that is holding the back of your hair in a vice grip smooths it’s way down to your cheek, and then trails to your neck. You shiver at the coolness of Eddie’s rings as they trace your skin. He stops at your throat and squeezes slightly, pulling away from the kiss.

You look up at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip. “…do it bitch.”

Eddie’s eyes close as he rolls them back. “Jesus Christ….” He growls as he grabs the back of your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you back into his bedroom. You trail hot kisses down the side of his neck, feeling his hands squeezing your ass right before he throws you back onto his bed.

You glance up at the wall next to his bed, and then back at him. “Can we use the cuffs tonight?”

He gives you a devilish grin as he rips his shirt over his head, “oh sweetheart…we’re going to be doing everything tonight.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson edit #Eddie Munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x you #fan fic smut #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

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takeyourcyanide · 29 days

Text

There Will Come a Day

(Soul Eater Fanfiction)

Summary: Stein finds himself sitting, basking in the darkness of his bedroom. One day he will lose all control, and the thought won’t leave his head. He will not be able to stand anymore.

Character(s): Just Franken Stein, thought there is a mention of Spirit

Word Count: 796

Note(s): I wrote this in like 10 minutes. Short and sweet and very angsty.

Stein sat incredibly still, similarly to a porcelain doll, on top of the end of his bed. There was no light that could be seen in the room, not even from underneath the door could a speckle of light enter.

In the depths of the darkness, he heard a small whisper in one ear, a gentle, yet incessant ringing in the other. He had found himself being ripped limb from limb in the singularity of a black hole, his arms and legs being clawed off, his brain being made into mince meat slowly, so incredibly slowly, yet surely.

Stein stared at nothing at all, ignoring the feeling of invisible hands outstretching to wrap around his body, the feeling of a group of people surrounding him, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Stein was horrible at ignoring that awful, crippling feeling.

An emotion Stein seldom experienced coiled around his heart, constricting like a boa. He breathed out stuttered and shallow breaths, a swirling ball had formed in his throat long ago. He sunk his teeth into his chapped bottom lip, the taste of blood making itself known as a sharp, gut-wrenching pain echoed throughout not only his lip, but also his entire frame.

He had considered for too long the inevitable prophecy he was to fulfill. And now he felt as though his brain would explode, his skull along with it, leaving his walls stained with brain matter as though he had shoved a gun down his continuously closing throat. He felt as though he was going to vomit up his internal organs, leaving his body just as hollow as he himself happened to be.

One day he wouldn’t be able to “self-medicate,” and shakily, clumsily stand on his own. There would come a day when they’d all see what it was that he had been so desperately attempting to conceal from everyone. They’d all see. They’d see his soul for what it was. And he’d lose all of his control over himself.

His eyes bulged out of their sockets, damp and ready to burst, as Stein tried his hardest to continue breathing at a steady pace. His chilled hands trembled lightly against his thighs.

That emotion? He supposed it was fear. A fear he had never experienced before. It wrung him from the inside out, consumed him, just as he was slowly devouring himself.

As a stray tear fell down his helpless and pitiful cheek, he heard the loud sound of a little girl weeping. No. Sobbing. Bawling.

He did not move, instead peering emptily at the face that had briefly appeared before him. It was pitch black, after all. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him.

But what were his ears doing?

The bitter, burning, yet pleasurable scent of cigarette smoke filled his nostrils, he even tasted it, as well.

Was Spirit smoking in the apartment? No, he’d never break the rules like that.

And even if he was, why would he taste it? The taste and odor of the cigarettes had long since left Stein’s mouth and nose, as he had last smoke over an hour or two ago.

Or was it yesterday? He couldn’t tell anymore. Did he dream it up? No, he smoked.

More and more scorchingly hot droplets feel from his eyes. He did not sniffle. He did not whimper. He did not make a sound.

His expression remained unchanging, his position following suit, despite how terribly he desired to curl in on himself and simply throw a tantrum. But he’d surely be scolded for behaving so childishly. God forbid. But they wouldn’t go away. The feeling wouldn’t go away. And he knew there’d come a day.

He didn’t know when. But he knew it would come.

And the thought utterly horrified, terrified, and frightened Stein, as it banged against the gooey walls of his brain. He was sure each cortex was pulsating fervently, his corpus callosum tearing itself apart.

Stein’s body shook with a hushed sob, one of which he choked on.

He could do nothing but cry, as he was utterly powerless against his own mind. He dreaded that day, but could nothing to stop it.

It terrified him. Just like when he was a little kid.

It terrified him, for no one shall see him and live.

It terrified him, because there would come a day in which not only would he be cut open and displayed for the whole world to see, but because he’d lose himself entirely. Because all of the work he had put into playing pretend, into holding on by one of his many cracking finger nails, into simply just existing. It would all be a waste.

He had given it everything he had.

And it was all for nothing at all.

#soul eater #franken stein #stein soul eater #stein #dr stein #spirit soul eater #spirit albarn #angst #hurt/no comfort #implied hallucinations #hallucinating #hallucinations

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vonev · 10 months

Text

The Strings Of Webs (and the ones you’ve woven)

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Chapter 2: Finding Meaning In A Meaningless World

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, angst, hurt/comfort.

Summary: Oops, seems like you've been captured; what could you do now?

Part I Part II

White space.

Your eyes cracked open and it was all white everywhere; the floor, the walls (if there are even any), and the blank slate of the ceiling staring down at you, almost as though it pitied you.

For your whole life, you thought you cracked the code and found salvation in the life you led. You weren’t a stand-out, not at all, but you were content with that path you had carve for yourself—to live out a life full of no regrets, which is why you had dabble in so many things; impulsively signing up for a barista and a tutor job at the age of 16, graduating high school with flying colors and pursuing your degree in engineering with the goal of one day achieving a PhD in genetic engineering and bringing a positive change to the research.

Oh, and indulging in strange hobbies like people watching—it was how you learnt the behavioral patterns and responses of people and how you grew to be incredibly adaptable to your surroundings wherever you are. Came in handy when you had to deal with all types of customers during your line of work, too.

Miguel had been the first one to burst that bubble, reminding you that while you thought you had it all figured out; you really didn’t.

For one, he was the only individual you weren’t able to crack on the get-go. His stoic nature as though he had built himself a wall of defense over the years, and you hadn’t known that the walls bite, too.

You tried to understand him, really, you did. Which is why you had the naïve approach when he had been the one to intrude your home, giving him the benefit of the doubt as you watched him take your life away from you—and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You weren’t sure whether to resent him or simply let it all go, after all, what more could you have done?

Your memories played back in front of you like you were merely the audience who had been granted the pleasure of looking back at your own life in a lengthy cassette tape, inserted into the old-fashioned player on a casual Sunday afternoon—the screen showing moving cards that allowed you to see into your slice of life.

Some of the memories stuck you like a knife to your core; painful and unwavering, but others found themselves warming that void of your heart you had desperately begged to be filled with something, anything of worth.

The times when you had been a rebellious teenager, running around the back of the city where everything was nothing, with a gang of friends you made as you all grabbed the bags of cannons and ran from the cops when you guys were spotted vandalizing public properties with your vibrant graffiti across the already abused walls from long-term use.

It had been fun times, but like all things—it eventually had to end.

You soon found yourself in a different card, showing your disheveled appearance as you hunched over your desk, your thick glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose as you moved your fingers to fix the spot of your dress where the fabric had torn earlier when you ran into some thugs. Foot on the sewing machine and fingers gently pushing the fabric to be sewn as the sound of ‘whirring’ hit your ears, followed by a loud yelp as you had managed to prick yourself on the finger.

You hadn’t touched sewing machines since.

More memories came by and left like the people in your life—none of them truly stayed, and you hadn’t managed to grasp a single memory that was truly dear to you.

You broke down.

It hurt.

To have the last moments of your life grieving over what you lost and have not found, the life you led that you thought would’ve been enough—it was never enough. You never made enough friends, families never stayed, and money was always a concern.

To simply put, you were akin to a bubble that had been stuffed with air to no end, waiting for the day, the right moment to finally burst open and confront the reality that you were in.

You never thought you would be confronted with how miserable your life truly was until your death—but it was all too soon yet too late. The things you promised yourself you would finish by tomorrow, the projects you’ve abandoned over the years collecting dust bunnies in your drawers and files, the people who you told you would meet again yet never did because you were a coward.

You had the idea that you had found the cheat code to life living by yourself, doing everything by yourself—who would’ve thought it would end up pushing the people you cared the most about away, to never be seen again?

Your sobs could be heard from a mile away, sounding like a child who had experienced their first fall from their bike onto the hard, concrete ground that scraped their skin. Your heart was broken, you were broken. But you chose to swallow up in denial rather than reach out and fix the issues that plagued your mind, the people you wanted to see again, the views you would beg on your knees to be able to watch just one last time—

It had all been fruitless; your efforts.

At the end of the day, you had been the sole reason for your downfall, who else could you have blamed?

From behind you was a bright flash of white, you brushed away your tears as you turned around and saw the opening of a door with blinding lights coming from it.

This was it.

You hadn’t even been content in bidding goodbyes to anyone—to yourself. You still had so much more self-reflection to do, so much more forgiveness you had to grant yourself, and so much potential—yet it all amounted to nothing. You picked yourself up and started stalking to the door, ready to embrace your fate like a mother would a child.

And as you got closer, the lights engulfed your whole being, your soul, reeling you in with a promise that you could maybe start anew.

But you knew better.

And so with a deep breath, you dragged your feet and stepped into the door, feeling yourself slip and fall through what you thought would have been the floor—your screams and cries were left to deaf ears.

You woke up in a pool of sweat— your sweat.

Your eyes shot open and jumped up from where you laid, your heart beating at what felt like more than 40 miles per hour, trying to soothe the raging headache you could feel blooming in your head.

You were overwhelmed.

All the emotions came rushing in like tides, drowning you in feelings you hadn’t been ready to touch on, to learn, to feel. You felt around your body with your hands—solid, like you’ve never left.

Were you relieved? You had no idea.

But you were alive.

The throbbing ache on your neck cried, and you put your shaky hand on it, feeling the slight dent of where the fangs had punctured.

Him.

And now, you had finally recalled the events of what happened to you, how Miguel chased you down with ferocity you’ve never seen before—those eyes of his that still plague your mind till this exact moment, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered at the moment; albeit you could just be completely delusional.

Suddenly, you felt your intestines twist within themselves, your body contorted into a sheer amount of pain that had you screaming for your life in the small, confined cell; your cries falling deaf to the walls that seemed to hug your conscience, squeezing you tight—you felt suffocated, and you want out. Your body tore itself apart just to stitch itself back together again.

And all of that in just one second.

You pant, desperately trying to catch your breath, your head now infested by the seemingly endless amount of headaches that ensued.

It hurts to be alive.

And you questioned whether or not you would’ve gladly let your life be taken from you if it meant you didn’t wouldn’t have experienced this.

You coughed into your palm, and upon seeing the blood that trickled down your hand, you felt yourself losing grip on reality—you were so done. Turning your head around, you surveyed the room you were in; or rather, the cell you were in. Bare minimums were met, the toilet sat by the corner, the most definitely uncomfortable bed that would have your back cracking indefinitely if you had slept on it, and strangely, the small pot of flower that was put away in a corner. And the security camera—

—you scowled; the sight and knowledge of being observed had your nerves up in flames, aggravating you to no end. You stood up from where you sat and looked around for something to prop yourself onto, eventually spotting the small stool that found its way under the bed.

Getting to work, you picked up the stool and placed it right beneath the corner where the security camera sat, blinking innocently at you as though it served a justifiable purpose—watching over you, every single second you would be in here.

Unfortunately for you, you were just barely out of reach from tearing down the device yourself; jumping did not work, either. You sighed in defeat, yet not wanting to give up your pursuit of destroying the camera.

You took to the pot of flowers that sat in a corner, approaching it, you could tell from afar it was your favorite—forget-me-not, sitting in a typical looking ceramic flower pot. On the regular you would’ve been happy, flattered, even, that somehow someone knew the exact favorite of yours—yet in this situation, it only served as a mockery; as though it knew and wanted only your suffering. As if whoever had planted this here was hoping the flowers alone would make you forget where you are.

It hadn’t helped that you studied flower language, either, and whoever picked this one out did not take account of how ironic the selection would be.

You snatched the pot up from the ground, the flowers fluttered in unison, almost if they were begging you to not throw them. You bit back the bitter taste in your tongue, you usually would’ve never done this; but extreme situations called for extreme measures. You turned to stare into the camera yet again, catching a glimpse of its eye blinking back at you, as if questioning your next move.

Sighing, you positioned yourself slightly far away from where the camera was placed, fingers gripping tight around the curve of the flower pot, aiming high as you chucked the object with all your might. A loud ‘clunk’ could be heard when the pot made an impact; in an instant, the camera imploded within itself, causing fragments of the device to rain down onto the floor beneath it, rendering it completely useless.

You were caught off-guard by your strength—never once had you managed to successfully open a tight-lipped jar, so why was it now that you were able to destroy a camera only with the throw of a flower pot? Had security cameras always been that finicky? You tilted your head to the side in confusion, your brain racking around for answers as to why you gained a newfound strength. You slowly turn around and stare at the metal bars, ones that have tormented your mind for so long—“ no escape,” it screams.

But you ought to try, even if your efforts may be in vain; and especially considering you have a period of time when the camera is down and you were 99% sure no one was watching you anymore. You approached the bars, your fingers reached up to grasp around the cylinder shaped metal, tightening your hold as if your life depended on the cold, biting metal.

And in an ironic sense, it did.

You mentally prepared yourself—this could easily end up being a fluke and you would look like an amateur escapist, or you could very much be out of here instantly if you did succeed.

Oh, what the heck, what else do you have to lose, anyway?

Taking a gulp of air, you hunched over slightly and pulled.

You weren’t sure what you expected, but to be launched back from the strong pull of your own and landing on your butt, effectively bruising it as you let out a soft ‘ouch’ on the impact. You coughed, and the image in front of you flooded your mind—the bars; they were broken. Your eyes shone like never before, adrenaline ran through your body, ignoring the pain in your palms from when you dug your nails slightly too deep into the skin of it.

They were broken!

You had managed to snatch two of them out from the roots, the gap that was left in its demise wide enough for you to fit yourself through.

You felt giddy, and before you could lose the opportunity of escape—you took it.

You rejoiced, jumping in newfound joy as you threw your arms up in the air and ran across the vast hallway, and if you noticed; you would’ve recognized that you were the only one in there, with only one cell occupying the entire space of the hallway. You paid no mind to anything else and sprinted toward what you assumed would be the exit, the larger-than-life doors automatically slid open as you approached.

Your feet felt like the weight of feathers, carrying you down the empty hallway with ease and at the speed you’ve never experienced before. You could outrun a car—you were sure of it.

Light.

You could see the light shining through in-between the cracks, but instead of despair and your demise—you approached it with a flicker of hope swimming in your bloodstream, like a seemingly dead lighter cracking with sparks, lighting up your senses.

You were beyond delirious.

And upon reaching the gigantic doors, you ran down another large hallway before coming face-to-face with yet another door, this time, it hadn’t opened for you.

A frown found its way onto your features, your eyebrows furrowed as you slowed your pace and inspected the mechanics of the door. You could see the glow of a handprint security console to your right, the light from it illuminating the dark, unsuspecting hallway.

You shrugged, and settled for the good, old fashioned way: brute forcing it.

You laid both your palms flat against the surface of the door, taking a deep breath, you concentrated on your palms and pushed.

It only made a small dent this time around—but you were determined to escape, to see the light of the sky and the breeze that would greet you with fluttering touches. You kept pushing, and the more you pushed, the more you exhausted your body—you couldn’t stop now; not when the grasp of freedom is within the palm of your hands, quite literally. You could hear the screeching creaks of the hedges, a positive sign; because it would mean you were close to breaking it down. Your body pushing its limit against the weight of the door, prayers falling out along with your heavy breaths. And soon enough, you felt the weight of the door suddenly lessened tenfold, slowly falling over—and you almost tumbled down along with it.

It was excruciatingly loud.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel had excused himself for a tea break when he saw you had woken up, his eyes restless as he hadn’t had a wink of sleep in days. So imagine his utter disbelief and surprise when he came back to his desk thinking he was able to have a small break, only to find that you had somehow managed to wreck the security camera he had installed prior to your arrival. He let out a string of curses in his mother tongue, “¡Ay, coño!” as his fingers worked their magic, the absurdity of the situation had gotten to him–

—this was the exact reason he told Peter B. Parker that he couldn’t catch a small rest every time he would suggest, because whenever he does, shit goes down.

Panic ensued, coursing through his entire fiber of being as he fiddled around with his keyboard with insane speed, the sound of ‘clicks’ and ‘clacks’ motivated him to find your whereabouts—you couldn’t have been far, after all, this was his building.

You rode the high of having pushed over a door that probably weighed a thousand times more than you; but you weren’t prepared for the sight that would meet your eyes next—

—Spider-people.

A lot of them.

So much so that you could feel a hundred pairs of eyes staring you down, as if to see what could be behind the collapsed gate. To their curiosity and confusion, the dust from where the door fell soon blown away by the wind, revealing your comically tiny figure compared to the large gate, how you had been the culprit that somehow brute forced her way through their security measures, some Spider-people eyeing you with a glint of amusement—the others? Couldn’t care less, you saw how one Spider-woman went back to enjoying a few sips on her cup of drink as she kept on walking.

Well.

You had caused a scene.

And this should be the part of the play where you run.

Suddenly, the speakers blared loud alarms, and you saw the way all of their watches’ screens turned on—revealing the oh-so familiar face you’ve grown to despise.

“All stations, stop what you’re doing right now, we have a prisoner on the loose—capture on spot by any means.”

It seemed as though the world stopped functioning for just that one second; your breath hitched, the entirety of the vast spaces that were occupied by the Spider-people dropped into complete silence–you could’ve sworn you heard someone clearing their throat somewhere amongst them.

“That’s her, right?” You could hear one of the Spider-men on the far right quip, scratching his head.

“Yeah I’m pretty sure–”

“Are you an idiot? Of course it’s her—” another one raised their voice, pointing at you and hopping in frustration.

“No that couldn’t be her,” you spoke up, your voice deepened, pretending to chime in as one of them while you cautiously side-stepped into the empty hall closest to you.

“Puta madre,” Miguel’s words rang through everyone’s ears, “It is her, get her now!”

All at once, the dozen eyes of the Spider-people landed on you, some of them gearing up to prepare for the chase, the others stared you down with what you would assume to be murderous gaze. You gave a small, innocent wave with a nervous smile worn on your face as someone in the back shouted.

“What are you guys doing?! Get her!”

You felt your heart leap out of your chest.

…maybe you should’ve stayed inside your prison cell.

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #angst #hurt/comfort #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #spiderman

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666writingcafe · 6 months

Text

Three Days Later

Simeon

It's been eerily quiet ever since we returned to Purgatory Hall. Solomon and I have taken turns at keeping an eye on the door, just in case anyone comes with any news about MC's sudden disappearance.

Currently, I'm in the living room with Luke, helping him with some of his homework. I can tell he's just as worried as we are, but I'm trying to keep his mind off it the best I can. He doesn't need to carry that kind of burden; he's only a child.

The loud, rapid knock on the door startles both of us. Luke starts to get up, but I force him to stay put.

"Solomon's got it," I remind him. As Luke resumes doing his homework, I attempt to focus on the conversation happening at the door, but I can't make out anything distinct.

That is, until I hear the door slam.

"What's going on?" Luke asks. "Is everything alright?"

"Simeon." Solomon bursts into the room, looking at me expectantly.

"I'll be back, Luke." I pat him on the shoulder as I stand up. Solomon darts out, and I have to walk quickly to catch up to him.

When Solomon opens the door back up, he reveals two people: one that I've never seen before, and...

When my eyes meet theirs, I instantly realize why Solomon called for me.

"Give me your hand," I instruct. They extend one out to me, and I sandwich it between my own hands. They're warm, but not supernaturally so.

"They're alive."

Solomon directs me to step back so that MC and their guest can come inside, allowing him to shut the door behind them.

"You have no idea how worried we were, MC," Solomon whispers. "When I saw you point the dagger towards yourself, it sent shivers down my spine." I figured that Solomon sent all of us out of the room so that MC could choose a victim for the blade, but I didn't think they would pick themselves.

"You all are incredibly lucky I was there," the female stranger replied. "Otherwise, they would be dead."

"So, I take it the dagger did not get used?" I ask.

"No. Look at their hand." Glancing down at MC's other hand, I notice a ring that wasn't there before. A simple black band.

Wait a minute. Is that what I think it is? The look on Solomon's face confirms that it is.

"It was supposed to have been lost in the carnage of the Great War," he murmurs in awe. "Clearly, I was mistaken."

I have questions.

As Solomon takes MC to the living room to reunite with Luke, I stop the stranger from following them.

"Who are you?" I ask her.

"Thirteen," they reply. That name sounds familiar. "And you must be Simeon, the angel that got demoted after the war."

"How do you know about that?" Thirteen crosses her arms.

"It's my business to know about these sorts of things." What does she mean...

Oh. Of course. She's a reaper.

"Why did you help MC?" She shrugs.

"It wasn't their time."

"I doubt that's the only reason." The words escape my mouth with a sharpness I did not intend. However, instead of her responding in kind, Thirteen sighs.

"You're right. It wasn't. I had to keep a promise I made a long time ago." Interesting. I didn't think reapers made promises, unless...

Unless it was to keep something safe.

"The ring was never lost, was it?" Thirteen shakes their head.

"Lucifer gave it to me. He thought that it was fitting at the time, seeing as he was no longer an angel."

"Nor was he no longer tied to Michael."

"Exactly. That connection now belongs to Solomon and MC. Hopefully, they make better use of it." I smile as I guide Thirteen to the living room.

"They'll make a great pair. Trust me."

#obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me mc #obey me luke

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whiskeyswifty · 1 day

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Hello, we're not mutuals, but I've been a long-time follower of yours, and I've always associated you with New York. So today, when my job told me they're sending me on a mission there next month, I immediately thought of you haha. This is my very first time visiting. I am staying over a week, but I'll be working weekdays up until like 5 PM. If you have time, could you please recommend me some must do/see things in your opinion? Thank you 💕

this is so incredibly sweet and lovely!! taylor swift move over I'M NEW YORK CITY NOW BITCH!! kiddingggggg but i'm still so warmed by you saying that. I'd be happy to be your unofficial tour guide of sorts, and i'll give you a mix of places that you should definitely see since you haven't been before and some fun offbeat places that might not be first on tourism lists but i particularly love. You can peruse the list and pick and choose as you wish! No pressure to do anything of course and i won't be offended if things don't seem interesting to you. Also this is in no particular order, just how they popped into my brain haha.

Grand Central Station - one of my absolute favorite places in the city. It's a architectural marvel from a bygone era (literally we don't build them like this anymore) and is actually as stunning as in pictures! The teal vaulted ceiling painted and lit up with constellations from the night sky, the original chandeliers, the Tennessee marble floors. It's also a fully working transit hub so you'll get to feel the hustle and bustle of the city. Lots to eat here too if you want a bite, like the famed Oyster bar or something quick from the food hall in the basement, which isn't much to write home about but convenient and hardly ever crowded. There's also a bar off the side of the station that used to be the office of a very wealthy financier, called The Campbell. One of the most stunning bars and lounges in the city and if you time it right, you can enjoy a drink or a bite to eat without a huge crowd!

2. The Met (aka The Metropolitan Museum of Art) - my personal favorite museum in the entire world, although i am biased and used to live a few blocks from the steps so it might just be the museum i've been to the most lol. However, it's phenomenal in it's range of pieces and in how immersive the curators try to make each exhibit. Instead of putting objects in cases, they try to display them in the context with which they were used! The Arms and Armor hall is my FAVORITE with several suits of armor on horseback parading down the middle of the whole exhibit, and flags hanging from the balconies that each represent one of the knights of the round table!! i mean how COOL is that!! Also, a must see is the temple of dendur, obviously. moved so Egypt could build a dam in the area it resided, they gave it as a gift to Kennedy for the millions he allocated to help Egypt preserve their monuments. it was accepted on behalf of his wife Jackie, who then was instrumental in *ahem* suggesting quite forcefully to the presidential successor LBJ that it be put indoors and not outdoors (obviously). go to the Met who agreed to pay for an entire addition just for it. It just so happens that the addition they built to house the temple has floor to ceiling windows that look up into the very apartment on 5th Ave that Jackie was living in at the time. Whether you find that a burst of sentimentality for her late husband or hubristic, that's up to you, it's probably a bit of both, but i love that story as it gives the temple a fun bit of context. Another highlight is the furniture collection, which sounds boring but to display them the met recreated entire ROOMS from the eras the furniture is from, including a full transplant of the living room of one of Frank Llyod Wright's most famous homes!! and you can walk IN IT. (i could go on for days, as could you wandering this museum and all of it's fantastic collections)

3. Time's Square - which is loud and dirty and crowded and horrendous BUT is still pretty magical, especially if you've never been. My advice, go late at night if you can for smaller crowds and it just looks so damn cool all lit up, even I can't deny.

4. The West Village - broad i know, but i'm a huge advocate for walking around residential areas when you visit a city. something my mom taught us as kids and it's a great way to get a feel for how people actually live and not just the Disneyland areas. also it provides a bit of a sensory and energy break on your trip as most residential areas are mellow. This is one of the more lively areas, but you'll find yourself wandering around stunning colonial town homes and adorable shops. It's a bit grimy and crowded with NYU kids in some parts, even on weeknights, but i think it adds to the charm of it. It's a lived in neighborhood! Washington Square park is a fun little central area to people watch, but honestly sitting at a cafe table anywhere is really fun just to see people walk by, ranging from 80 year old hippies who have lived there for their entire lives to 18 year old kids who look like the coolest people i've ever seen in my life. Also, you'll always find a swiftie taking a photo under the cornelia st. sign, so if you want a little piece of swiftie new york, that's an easy one to get. (there's a section that is particularly grubby and awful that is a series of blocks below west 4th under Washington square park and above Houston st, bordered on the east and west by Broadway and 6th ave respectively. It's not horrible, but it's super crowded and the less charming chunk of the area for sure. however feel free to venture down there for some trendy food and interesting shops if you're feeling up for it! a fun little store that's cool to peruse is called Chess Forum where they host chess tournaments but also sell incredibly intricate themed chess sets! don't go out of your way, but if you're around, pop in and check it out for five or so minutes)

5. Statue of Liberty (including the ferry itself) - something that should be overrated but really isn't! It's genuinely cool, even to me who's lived here for so long and to my friends who are lifelong new yorkers. It's such a monument in the truest sense of the word and honestly, bigger than you expect. It's not that you think it's going to be small, just the mere fact of seeing something you've only seen in photos, your brain will just be shocked at how big it is. No need to go up in it, imo, but do what you want! I think the last ferries leave around 5 each day so if you can make it out of work a biiiiiit early one day, and you're nearby, you can catch it! Not a must do of course, but if you find the time, it's one of those few things in life i have found that is worth it. Also, the ferry to and from there is a bonus sightseeing element as you get GREAT views of the tip of manhattan! makes for some gorgeous photos and one of the lesser known tips is manhattan as seen by a boat is one of the best views you'll get. If you can't make it to the official ferry tour, here is a pro tip: take the Staten Island Ferry. i KNOW that sounds weird, but the route to Staten Island is pretty much the same as the Statue of Liberty tour route. You won't stop at the island to get off and see the statue, BUT you'll get very close to it! Why the Staten Island Ferry? Well it runs all hours of the day and night and it's FREEEEEE. You can just hop back on the returning ferry and get double the views! You can board the ferry in Manhattan at the tippy tip on the bottom right at Whitehall terminal. The second best view of Manhattan is......

6. Brooklyn Bridge - another great monument that is open to you 24 hours a day if you cannot get out of work early enough. Another architectural marvel (which i'm super into so apologies if you don't care about buildings lol) but also a true monument! You can walk across it at any time of day and be sure to turn around half way for a spectacular view of manhattan. my advice to you, as corny as it is, do NOT turn around until you get halfway at least. the contrast of walking away from the city and turning around and seeing it up close like that is really a delight. I always make people i go with do that and they hate me until they turn around and then they're begrudgingly happy they listened. Also, truly any time of day is great, but if you happen to do it at dusk on a lovely spring day, oooooo boy it's glorious. I have dozens of stories about the bridge, as it's one of my favorite stories in the entire history of the world (again biased sorry but it's SUCH A GOOD STORY) but two anecdotes i'll tell you. 1. the man who was supposed to build the bridge was the son of the man who designed it, and he had everything ready to go but got sick and bedridden shortly after starting. So, his wife, who had been studying engineering alongside him this entire time, was taught by her husband specifically about bridge engineering as he was bedridden for ten years. Over the course of that time, she eventually took over as Chief Engineer on site and technically is the person who oversaw and instructed the construction of the bridge, her husband never really setting foot on the project site. Her name is Emily Roebling and for her work, they awarded her the privilege of being the first person to cross the bridge on opening day, leading the parade. Also, there is a street named after her on the Brooklyn side near the bridge. 2. It was the largest suspension bridge ever built at that time and people were freaked out by it, thinking it would fall. To prove to the public how sturdy it was, Emily enlisted the help of the circus star P.T. Barnum (yes that Barnum) who brought 21 elephants, including his star Jumbo, to cross the bridge!

7. Broadway rush tickets - since you sound like you're traveling alone, or at least with a small group, broadway rush tickets will be very easy for you to get! You can look up the process online, there are lots of resources. It's the only way to see something cheap these days, and even then it might not be so cheap. I'm not a huge broadway person so I can't say what is particularly good or bad, but currently Stereophonic is a hot new show that seems really interesting! It's more dramatic and play-esque than your typical dazzling brassy musical, so if you're into that, check it out!

8. Top of the Rock - most people will send you to the empire state building to see skyscraper level views. and that's good too, but here's the thing, you're IN the empire state building.... so you can't SEE it. people don't think of this and walk away from their new york visit with no photos of the damn thing because they stood on it instead. Also, it's a fenced in balcony for.... obvious reasons and much more limited in scope. Top of the Rock is not only in the very cool rockafeller center, which is fun to walk around and admire, but you can see the empire state building while up there! Also, it has northern AND southern views, all at the same time on the roof deck, with glass walls. So you get no obstructions! It's also situated a bit further north so you get a fantastic view of central park sprawling north. It's open until midnight, so after work you can get some dazzling sunset views or glittering cityscape night views.

Some food recs:

Pizza: the most controversial of all, and sooooooo particular to each person's taste. Most pizza places on Best Of lists are great, you can't go wrong. Word of advice to you though: L'Industrie is great, but the lines are insane and it's not THAT worth it. However, if you want a typical "slice" then look no further than these two:

Joe's - the most accessible since it's all over the city, but is honestly the perfect slice imo. Which means there's not much to it in terms of frills, but that's what tourists seem to not understand. it's just a damn good slice. Crust perfect, crispy and not droopy, sauce to cheese ratio is perfect, sauce has a bit of flavor but not too much. I go for the cheese cuz i'm basic but the pep is great too! Don't get anything else. Carmine's is the original shop but any of the locations are great.

Scarrs - this is my ACTUAL favorite slice, however there's only one location and it's pretty out of the way. It's on the LES, which is a fun place to wander if you don't mind a bit of grit and grime. Again, super simple, but my man mills his OWN FLOUR so he can get the right ratio. as far as i know, nobody else in new york is doing that. Dough is also fermented, so it has the perfect amount of crisp, tang, and saltiness. Also, Scarr is afro-latino which is rare in the pizza world, but a welcome wakeup call to all the italian goombahs slinging mediocre pies. As always, get the plain cheese, but the hotboi is so fucking good, don't miss it. and get the honey on top!!

Bagels: Honestly, anywhere you go will have great bagels. I've gone into the shittiest looking dump and gotten a bagel better than outside the tristate area. (Yes the water is what makes it great, it's been proven and it makes the pizza great too).

Personally, my favorite is Tompkins Square Bagels as i lived next to it for many many years. Bagel purists shut upppppp i don't wanna hear it!! They churn out bagels pretty frequently so you're likely to get a hot one! DONT get it toasted, especially if its a fresh bagel. It'll be perfect on it's own, but do what you must to enjoy it. You MUST however get an everything bagel, scallion cream cheese is optional but it's highly recommended. If they have it, the french toast bagel is wild and kind of sacrilegious, but soooooo fucking good if it's warm. get plain or if you wanna develop diabetes, birthday cream cheese if they got it.

Russ & Daughters - an absolute knockout place, both the storefront/bagel shop and the restaurant. It's incredibly stylized to evoke old school LES bagel counters of yore, but the quality is unmatched. There is usually a line, so i don't really emphasize this as a MUST GO place, as new yorkers don't wait in lines lol. But weekdays you might fare better! If you're a lox person, this is the place to get your bagel and lox. (i'm not, which is blasphemous to my jewish family, but i won't turn down one from Russ and Daughters).

Gonna list my other favs here just so you have some in other neighborhood: Baz Bagels (LES), Murray's Bagels (WV), Apollo Bagels (EV), H&H (UES), Orwashers (UES & UWS), Tal Bagels (various locations).

Other Food spots that i like that are pretty classic new york food!

Daily Provisions - get the BEC (bacon, egg, & cheese) to feel like a real new yorker. it's one of the more gourmet versions, but my god it's a good one. also, go early as you can to snag a cruller. one of the BEST doughnuts in the city.

Magnolia Bakery - GO ONLY FOR THE PUDDING. the cupcakes are mid as hell, you can feel the sugar granules in the frosting, not great. Their signature banana pudding is fantastic though, and if the seasonal one sounds good to you, grab that too! they offer very small sizes so you can try both, or a big tub if you want.

Veselka - another spot i kind of am biased about because i lived near it, but it's a CLASSIC new york haunt that doesn't exist anymore for the most part elsewhere. It's a Ukrainian diner from 50s, and has typical diner food and service, but the pierogis are the star here. Any kind, go nuts. Open 24/7 and always filled with NYU kids, but still retains that city-that-never-sleeps charm somehow.

Pastrami Queen - for.... a pastrami on rye sandwich lol if that wasn't clear. Most people will send you to Katz, which is fine! It's not what it used to be, but it is a very cool experience. The pastrami is still good, and the matzoball soup is good. Knish's are a little greasy for my taste though. Best pastrami though imo is at Pastrami Queen. one on UES and one on UWS (plus a location in the new moynihan train hall) so it's not super easy to get to, but i highly rec it.

Parm - now this is my biggest cheat rec. new yorkers will read this and go, pfffft who cares about Parm? Well, i'll tell you why. You might have heard of the famed rigatoni alla vodka from carbone, which is good! but not worth the hassle of going to carbone. You CAN get it at Parm though, which is much easier to get into, cheaper, and more relaxed. They have several locations and the rest of the menu is really solid! Meatballs are great, garlic bread is fantastic, and the italian sandwich is wonderful. They've always had the rigatoni on the menu for those that knew, but only recently has the secret got out and so they changed the name to say "carbone rigatoni alla vodka." Don't go out of your way, but for a trendy new york dish you can brag about, that's a little tip from me to you.

Peter Pan Donuts and Pastry shop - LITERALLY MY FAVORITE PLACE EVER ok it is just a 50's style donut counter, and yes it is in greenpoint which makes it almost impossible to get to. HOWEVER if you manage to make it out there, you're in for a treat. Any doughnut you get is fantastic, and the pretty green interior and counters are so delightful to sit and enjoy as you get frosting/powdered sugar all over yourself. i try not to hype this place up cuz i don't want it to be even more popular than it is with locals, but for you anon i'll let you have it.

Xi'an Famous Food - a great hand-pulled and hand ripped noodle chain that is somehow still pretty authentic despite it's many locations. Great lunch spot for while you work, which most of these recs aren't lol. If the menu is overwhelming, i rec N1 and N2, or N9 if you don't love spice.

Morgansterns Ice Cream - also something you can't really go wrong with all of the Best Of lists. but this one is my absolute fav. Their traditional flavors are all exceptionally creamy and delicious, but they always have wild flavors on deck! You can't sample them, so getting a scoop is a commitment, but for fun, pick a wild one that you think you'd like and dive in. They're great at balancing flavors and making it actually delicious, not just shocking instagram fodder, so you might surprise yourself!

Los Tacos No. 1 - another trendy place that is actually worth the hype. There might be lines here as well but they move quickly, and there are many locations! A great lunch spot to grab some quick tacos, and one of the first in the city to bring al pastor to the masses. If you're mexican or come from the southwest, you might be underwhelmed or skip it altogether. but for new york, this is a shockingly fantastic mainstream taco place, and more authentic than you'd get most places.

Other than those big things, my recommendation to anyone visiting is to wander! Everything below the 80s is pretty safe, despite what you hear. The financial district shuts down daily after about 6/7 pm so avoid that for evenings mainly because it's boring. If you see something in a store, pop in! Also this list is particularly New York Staples, but it's one of the most racially and ethnically diverse places in the world. Seriously. any kind of food you want, it's here, and it's made by someone from that exact country/community. A quick google and you'll probably find whatever you're looking for.

I hope you have an amazing trip and no pressure to do anything you don't want to, honestly! Pick the things that interest you and go with your gut. It's a bottomless city and there's no definitive list of things that make it a New York Trip. Locals will tell you one thing and ex-pats will tell you another and transplants will tell you something completely different. It has something for everyone, but not everything is for everyone, is what I like to tell people. The city is YOUR playground, so do whatever you want! Just make sure to tip your drivers and servers generously and ALWAYS walk at a steady pace and on the right side of the sidewalk. ❤️

#this is a mess of things so i hope its helpful #and i hope you don't hate everything on here akldfjalsdkfjf #i tried to keep it varied but ya never know #some people come here and hate everything so lol what can you do #also sorry i took so long #but i wanted to make sure i had a good list of stuff! also i ramble as you already know if you've followed me for a long time hahaha

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phiixomath · 2 months

Text

housewarming

Hunk plugs in his speaker, queues his favourite cooking playlist, and gets to finely chopping up vegetables after he decides he wants to serve the skewers with fried rice. He dices larger for the skewers and, once that’s done, he sets up their kitchenette with stations so he can most efficiently skewer, grill, and wrap the pork belly. He begins doing that, piercing each chunk of pork with bell peppers and onions in between. He creates a trayful of the skewers then starts placing them on a small, oiled skillet, three at a time.

The loud sizzle is a sorely-missed sound, and he revels in it as he turns the skewers on each side so they’re evenly cooked, generously basting them with what’s left of the marinade.

The delicious aroma hangs heavy when he’s done with the first skewers and he gingerly slips off a piece, blows on it, and gives it a taste.

Hunk doesn’t even try holding back a satisfied noise. The pork is so, so incredibly soft, and his teeth barely have to pierce the skin before it melts in his mouth. It bursts with flavor, not to mention the light char which adds some smokiness. He nods in approval, popping another piece into his mouth. It’s followed by a square of bell pepper and it elicits a nice crunch.

He dusts off his hands when he hears a shuffle. He looks up to see Pidge slowly come into view, clearly woken up from a nap, holding Steampunk.

“Good morning,” Hunk teases.

“Hey. I smelled something good.” Their voice is gruff with disuse as they reach the kitchen. Steampunk leaps from her arms and onto the floor, heading toward her scratch post and thankfully away from the food. Pidge dusts their clothes. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Pork skewers and fried rice.” Hunk grins and lowers the music. “And Lance that texted he and Keith are bringing home dumplings, so we’ll have that, too.”

Pidge hums in interest. They walk over to Hunk and reach onto their tip-toes so they can look over his shoulder.

“Here.” Hunk turns around with one of the skewers and eases a bit of pork onto a small fork, holding it up to Pidge’s mouth so they can taste. Their drowsy expression wanes as they chew and they comically blink several times as they process. “Wow. That’s delicious.” Some of their internal battery seems to recharge as they take another bite, finishing off what’s left on the fork. Hunk happily relinquishes the rest of the skewer after making sure to wrap it around a napkin, so Pidge can snack while he grills the rest. They mumble a ‘thank you’ around a mouthful of pork belly and go to lean against the opposite counter.

Like when Hunk first met them, Pidge usually prefers to do their own thing. He and Lance respect it, give them their ample space, but it warms Hunk’s heart whenever they embrace co-living.

Like now, when they wordlessly start setting the table.

“You’re gonna join us?”

Pidge shrugs. “Sure.” They kneel to refill Steampunk’s food and Hunk smiles, turning back to the stove.

He finishes grilling all the skewers and sets them off to the side, quickly moving on to tossing rice with some finer chopped vegetables and soy sauce and sesame oil. Pidge takes out serving bowls to scoop it into.

#wip wednesday #28.02.24 #i have so much to say about this #a small piece of my heart and an extremely therapeutic piece born from a sudden rush of inspiration a few months ago #klance

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remusremorse · 8 months

Text

A marauders type of love

C̺͆H̺͆A̺͆P̺͆T̺͆E̺͆R̺͆ O̺͆N̺͆E̺͆:

1st person

September 1st 11:15am

I spent the first 15 minutes of the train journey doing my prefect duties, making sure the first and second years got on bord safely and happily. I have been spending the last 5 minutes looking for my best friend Regulus Black. We are currently in our 7th year at Hogwarts, so we have NEWTs this year.

'Petal over here' I hear my name being called as I turn around, I realise its pandora rosier. As I followed her to our compartment, I finally saw Regulus. I tackled him as he didn't realise I was there. 'You sure you can catch a snitch if you can't even sense me about to tackle you. Captain Black' I bit back a cackle, but the others didn't, they just laughed with no regrets. 'I will have you know Captain Grindelwald that I am an amazing seeker you on the other hand are a one-of-a-kind seeker' Regulus snarked back in an incredibly posh sarcastic voice

'Don't talk like that you sound like Dumbledore or my father' came the voice of Dorcas Meadows. We all burst into a fit of laughter. 'Oi, come on don't compare me to my father he's an asshole' my voice rang through the compartment. Followed by murmurs of agreement by my closest friends. Soon we all defused into our own convocations. Me and Regulus reading whatever book we bought each other last Christmas, Dorcas and Pandora catching up with each other and fawning over there crushes on Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans, Evan and Barty keep showering each other in compliments and kisses or are making out in the corner (them having been together since 5th year).

1:30pm

The lunch lady mrs Parkason I believe her name is came past and offered us food. I bought a chicken sandwich with mayo in as well as some cheese and onion crisps but there was also a lot of different sweets and chocolate. So being the expensive bitch I am I bought the honey dukes chocolate infused with fire whiskey. We all continued to chat while we ate and after descended into a comfortable silence despite the smack of lips from Evan and Barry.

6:00pm

It was peaceful and quiet most of us reading either a book or the daily prophet. When suddenly a loud crash and James potter, Sirius black, Remus lupin and Peter pettegrew came bounding in. 'What the fuck' me and regulus screamed simultaneously. 'Sorry to barge in but where hiding from the prefects' was potters response. Then he turned around and realised that had just walked into a compartment with 3 prefects one being head girl as well. 'Shit,fuck,shit,fuck' we heard potter, black and pettegrew repeat. The look on lupins face was just 'I told you so'. 'I will refrain from giving you all detention because I can do that know as head girl if you tell me who you where pranking and why and also you find out who the head boy is and tell me' is how I responded. The look of pure shock on there faces as to why I wasn't giving them detention was hilarious. That's when Black pipped up and said 'well we where pranking snape as he called Lily Evans a mudblood again also James here is head boy.' 'By the ancients, Merlin help me' I whispered under my breathe as they left.

7:45pm

I checked my watch for it to read 7:43pm. 'It's quater to 8:00 we should probably start getting into are robes' I said with tone of hurry. There is a ruffling noise and the all proceed to change( her uniform is the second slide) the only difference between mine and Dorcas was the tie,robe and jumper colours. Mine and pandoras are the same as we are in the same house and share a dorm.

Once we arrived as head girl I had to make sure all the first years got to Hagrid safely. The only problem was the head boy is potter so that sucks. You see for some reason he hates me, it could be because he's Gryffindor quidditch captain as well as chaser so naturally we would be rivals but he's hated me since first year for some reason unknown to me.

#fanfic #marauders #polyamory #poly!marauders smut #polyamarous #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x reader #smut #animagi #slytherin skittles #poly!marauders imagine

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icycoldninja · 16 days

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The monster in the closet (Genesis x reader)

Your physical body lay in your bed, fast asleep, while your subconscious danced about in dreamland, making friends with mutant unicorn-aliens that smelled like popcorn and had giant wads of cotton candy on their horns--or whatever it was that you usually dreamed about--when you were abruptly startled from your slumber by a blood-curdling scream, followed by a massive explosion and the sound of frenzied footsteps hurrying up the staircase. Your brow crinkled in confusion as you slowly sat up, pulled the covers back, and prepared to slide off the bed when the door suddenly burst open, revealing an incredibly panicked feral cat Genesis.

"Y/N!" He shrieked, voice shrill and nearly unrecognizable.

"What, Gen?" You groaned, massaging your eyelids, trying to get your blurry, sleep-hazed vision to return to normal. Genesis' fists were clenched and shaking as he crossed the room to bury his face into your shoulders. Confused, you returned the hug. "What's up?" Genesis then sucked in a great, long, trembling breath before bursting into loud, horribly exaggerated sobs.

"THERE'S A MONSTER IN THE CLOSET!!!" He wailed, clutching you tightly, trembling with genuine fear. You raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the sobbing man in your arms.

"A...monster?" Genesis nodded feverishly.

"A monster! It's huge, has tons of arms, and no matter how many Firagas I throw at it, it won't fucking die!" He threw himself upon your neck and wept, hot tears soaking your skin. You sighed, patting his back and shushing him; rocking him like the baby he was.

"It's OK, Gen," You whispered, kissing his forehead and squeezing his biceps. "Everything's ok-"

"EVERYTHING IS NOT OK!" Genesis whined, pulling away with a tearful pout. "There is a monster in the closet downstairs! Help me!" You threw your arms into the air in exasperation.

"What the hell do you want me to do about it?" Genesis frowned and placed his hands on his hips, tears gone and irritable attitude returning.

"I want you to kill it!" You let out a long, suffering sigh and followed him downstairs to where the "monster" was supposedly hiding. Genesis dragged you down the staircase, revealing that he'd absolutely destroyed the first floor.

"Holy shit, what happened here?" You gasped, looking around in pure astonishment. All the furniture had been scorched; massive, charred craters were present everywhere on the walls, the floors were singed, and even the ceiling had dents in it somehow.

"These are...the results of my....erm...attempts to defeat the monster." Genesis admitted, nervously heading towards a linen closet that had been blocked with a table. "The monster's in there." Genesis said, unsteadily pointing at the door. "Go on, kill it!" You rolled your eyes, then shoved the table aside as Genesis anxiously wrung his hands behind you. With bated breath, and shaky hands, you turned the doorknob and swung the closet door open.

"Genesis, what the fuck?"

It was a spider. A goddamn, fucking spider. It wasn't even a big spider, or a dangerous one! It was a tiny little house spider. Heaving a great, exhausted sigh, you snatched a slipper from the closet shelf and whacked the spider with it.

"There, done. Was that really worth destroying half our house, Gen?" Genesis gazed at you with trembling lips and puppy dog eyes.

"Yes," He croaked, before breaking out into loud, frightened sobs again. Sighing, you took the melodramatic redhead in your arms and kissed him.

"You're such a drama queen, Gen," You mumbled, raking your hands through his hair. Genesis did not answer; he was likely milking this opportunity as much as he could to get more attention from you. "Come on," You chuckled, throwing an arm around his shoulder and guiding him upstairs. "Let's go back to bed. I'll hold you." With a sniffling sob, Genesis wiped his tears with the sleeve of his coat and clung onto you tightly as you led him up the stairs. Truly, what a drama queen.

#Ffvii #Ff7 #Final fantasy 7 #Final fantasy vii #Ff7 crisis core #final fantasy vii crisis core #ffvii crisis core #Final fantasy 7 crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #Genesis x reader #Fluffy and stupid #Drama queen genesis #X reader #Ff7 fanfic #Ffvii fanfic #Final fantasy 7 fanfic #ff7 genesis #Ffvii genesis

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7seas-of-ryy · 2 years

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I’m Here For You

Author’s Note: This is based off of this request! Also this grounding technique helps me so much, please try it if you need something to help you as well.

Summary: You have an anxiety attack and Rooster helps you through it :)

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: anxiety attack (goes into detail)

Y/N = your name

Y/n/n = your nick name

...

You were having one of those days where everything just felt off. There were a few things that had already happened setting you on edge. Certain triggers were brought up and it was making you incredibly anxious. You didn’t wanna bother Rooster, your boyfriend, so you tried to push those feelings down.

You hated how somethings made you feel so weak. Something that was so small to everyone else was huge to you, weighing heavy on your chest. Rooster never made you feel like you were a burden but you couldn’t help the feeling.

Bradley knew about your anxiety and how it effected you. He had been there for a few anxiety attacks in the past, each time learning more about what helped you. He had done research, called doctors to ask for tips, and tried many things to figure out the very best way to help you through it. He couldn’t know what it was like for you but he was sure gonna try his hardest to be there in any way that he could.

You were both supposed to head over to Mav’s house for a get together with the crew. Rooster could see you weren’t having the best day and he didn’t wanna push you.

“Hey sweetheart, you sure you wanna go tonight?” Rooster softly spoke to you as he came in and laid down next to you.

“Yeah, I wanna go. It’ll be fun” You smiled weakly at him. You didn’t want him to resent you for making him not go. Your thoughts getting in the way of seeing that he doesn’t care about the party, only you.

“Ok, if you really wanna go still, we can” He spoke to you with a soft smile.

You both headed to the party and when you walked in, you were immediately hit with everything. The sounds of the music, everyone talking, chairs being pulled out and pushed in, people making their plates of food. All the noises at once. You were immediately overstimulated, which was starting to push you towards your limit.

Rooster put his arm around you and looked down at you.

“Do you wanna go sit and I’ll make you a plate and get you a drink?” He said to you

“Yeah that sounds nice, thank you” You mumbled. He kissed you and went off to the kitchen.

You sat in an empty room and people started to file in. Everyone was talking to each other and you tried to block out some of the sound but it felt impossible. You felt like the walls were closing in on you. You knew what was about to happen and ran to the bathroom.

You chest started to hurt, you breathing was rapid. You thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Tears sprung to your eyes and you didn’t know what to do. It felt like you were dying. That’s when you heard knocking.

“Y/n/n, honey, please open the door for me. It’s only me.” Rooster spoke so softly through the door. You gathered as much strength as you could and unlocked the door.

Rooster rushed in and immediately sat you on the floor. He sat across from you and pulled you closer, in between his legs.

“Look at me baby, focus on me ok? Can you do that for me darlin?” Rooster stayed calm, knowing if he became too loud or scared, it would only make you worse.

You nodded your head, looking at him. Your breathing had not calmed yet. You were clutching your chest terrified. It was as if you could not get enough air no matter how hard you tried.

“Y/n, I want you to follow what I say honey. Tell me 5 things you see.” He said as clear as he could as he stared into your eyes.

“D-door”, you whispered out through your breaths, “sink...ba-bath, soap... you” You stared at him with wide eyes.

“Good job! You’re doing so great! Ok, now tell me four things you can feel” Bradley said

“Floor, rug...w-wall...you” You said, breathing still rapid but starting to calm slightly.

Rooster smiled at you, “Now tell me 3 things you can hear, only focus on three baby”

“music...Phoenix laughing, and you” You still stared at him with wide eyes

“Sweetheart you are doing so so great, now give me two things you can smell” He watched you with hopeful eyes.

“Burgers and you” You said with one deep breath. Your heart was starting to calm down.

“Only one more honey. Tell me one thing you taste” He said while still holding you

“Chapstick” You smiled, thinking back to the kiss he gave you earlier. The chapstick he was wearing (Stole from you) was still on your lips.

He chuckled and gave a sigh of relief, happy he was able to be there for you.

“Are you ok darlin?” He asked you, pulling you into his embrace “I’m so sorry we came today, I felt like you weren’t having a good day and I should’ve just said we weren’t gonna go, I am so so sorry”

“I’m tired but feeling a little better” You let him hold you “and it’s ok, I should’ve told you”

“I promise I’ll be there for you no matter what. This isn’t your fault” He mumbled into your hair, “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Yeah that would be nice”

Rooster let everyone know you were both leaving. You heard him tell them he wasn’t feeling well even though it was clearly you who wasn’t feeling well. That made your heart swell. You felt so loved and you knew you’d always be safe with him.

You both got home and laid down. Rooster changed you into more comfortable clothes and held you in his arms all night. He didn’t go to sleep that night, just in case you woke up feeling bad again.

He would whisper “I love you” or “I’m here darlin” in your ear any time you would move around in your sleep. He would make sure to be the strong one when you didn’t have any strength.

...

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