#HE'S A BLACK MAN FIGHTING POLICE BRUTALITY!!!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Me waiting for y'all to stop this shipping and age nonsense so we can start talking about Hobies very real trauma and how it effects him as a black man living under a police state

#me actually literally actually me #SHUT UP SHUT THE HELL UP #HE'S A BLACK MAN FIGHTING POLICE BRUTALITY!!! #ISN'T THAT SO COOL?!? #Spiderpunk #hobie brown #atsv #across the spider verse

[hellavile]

━━━ ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 & 𝑤𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 ♱ t.f

warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.6k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded, university setting, violence i.e fighting, readers obsessed & it's lowkey giving omega/alpha trope lmao, public sex at a skate park, running from police, oral [ m.], riding, titty sucking, praise, minors aren't allowed!

━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; this is a repost of one of my old fics so enjoy!

blood. it's seeped into the pearl white t-shirt of the man walking down the hall past you, dripping from his mouth, the look in his eyes careless as he held onto the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. to this day it felt like you were seeing him in slow motion. you could still hear how fast your heart paced, the intense eye contact between you two, your sneakers squeaking against the university's floors, hallway empty other than you, and the professor beside him.

his other hand was buried into his jean pockets, strolling with his chin up as if he wasn't phased by his injury, like he barely felt it. the dark-haired man burned his eyes into you, side-eyeing you and your skimpy cheer uniform, wanting to smirk at how entranced you were by him but couldn't given the pain on his face. for some reason you wanted so badly to ask if he was okay. clearly, he wasn't. the man had just been in a brutal fight where a student cut the side of his mouth with a switchblade. this you found out later in the day at lunch. people wouldn't stop talking about it. fushiguro, they called him. it was only his last name, simply because that's all people would refer to him as.

there was no explanation for your sudden infatuation for him. it was nonsensical. you never felt anything like that before, and you've only looked at him for literally no more than ten seconds. it was even more intense the moment you walked past each other, both of you looked back to catch another gaze for a few seconds, only you were too stunned, eyes widening and quickly whirling your head back around. he was suspended. why? he wasn't even the one to start the fight. since he had a reputation, it was easy for the school to see him as the bad apple. you actually despised the fact that the culprit who started the brawl was back in school only a week after while fushiguro remained absent.

i want to see him again. he's all you could think about. this town wasn't too big, so it's odd that you haven't gotten even a glimpse of him the entire two weeks he's been gone. not while walking the streets, not the mall where every person in town visited—then again he didn't seem like the type to do that. not the tattoo shop you worked at part time . . . nothing. friday comes around and you're stuck at work, the usual. since the shop you worked at didn't close until 2AM, your manager decided to let you out an hour early just to rest up for the weekend, thankfully off.

for some odd reason, you weren't tired, even after working a full week on top of dealing with courses and mastering cheer routines. balling the plaid black and white flannel your hands created sweater paws with tighter in your fist, you stroll peacefully down the sidewalks looking at the pretty city lights, blasting rock music until coming into view with an overnight bodega, wanting a few snacks for the night since you knew you were going to be up reading on your phone until possibly five in the morning.

you're greeted by the owner, smiling and waving, making sure to turn down your music to listen in on your surroundings. grabbing mostly chips and beef sticks, you hold all of your junk to your chest while making your way over to the refrigerators, needing a real drink since you haven't had one since jesus invented the calendar. trailing your fingers across the cool cans, you scrunch your face up at any budweiser, yards, or bud light. beer? hell no. wine sounded more like it. as you go to reach for a bottle, you catch a glimpse at a buff man at the front counter; midnight hair, all black clothing, knu skool vans, and a skateboard clutched between his right underarm hand. his items are being rung up, but you can't stop staring, squinting your eyes knowingly towards the stranger. why does he look so familiar?

"see you around, fushiguro," the man waves off, your eyes widening at the name, nearly tripping over a rack full of peanuts as you watch him nod once and exit the store, seeing the side of his face where his recent scar laid.

he's already out the store, and you rush to the counter, checking out after having to show your i.d. for the wine, saying goodnight as you snatch the clear plastic bag with a 'thanks!' and rush towards the mysterious man halfway down the block. he has his airpods in, so he doesn't hear how loud you're breathing or the thuds of your sneakers hitting the gravel. you practically bunny hop beside him making the insanely huge man jump a little, thick brows scrunching with annoyance at the inconvenience beside him. he pauses his music, never stopping his tracks as he continues to walk with you beside him.

"hey, stranger," you cheekily grin.

"hey," his voice is gruff, slightly scratchy. you clear your throat, ignoring the whiplash you were just given. "what are you doing out this late? pretty girls should be home around this time. it's not safe."

wow, protective already. you raise your brows at his sentence, slightly shocked he didn't tell you to fuck off—at least with that wording. wait, he called me pretty?!

"pretty girls have adult responsibilities. i just got off of work. besides, shouldn't reckless students be on house arrest around this time?"

he ignores you, so you come up with something else. "how's your scar?"

"it's a scar," he sighs.

"when will you be back in school?"

"not sure."

"in my opinion, i think that jackass dick sucker should get his shit kicked in. what fucktard cuts someone in the face?"

the man stops abruptly, causing you to let out an 'oof' as you bump into his side, the man giving you zero attention as he drops his skateboard on the ground to use, stepping onto it and begins to stroll away.

you drop your mouth open. "rude!"

"why are you talking to me?" he doesn't even have to yell, his voice is deep enough for you to still hear him. huffing, you jog towards him, trying your best to keep up with him.

"i like you!" you groan, irritated that he was being so ignorant, and that he was making you run in a goddamn skirt.

fushiguro laughs, and the reaction stuns you, as if he wasn't capable of such an action. "you don't know me. we go to the same uni, that doesn't make us friends."

"i'd like to be your friend, though, asshole."

"i don't need any friends."

"a girlfr—"

"no," he shuts down sternly, stopping at a walkway, looking both ways before crossing the street. you roll your eyes, chewing your inner cheek when you notice he's heading to a skate park just across the road, dark and empty, a few street lights illuminating just enough light for him to see the cemented ramps.

like he's getting away from talking to me that easily. you let a car pass by before rushing behind the muscular man, fushiguro seeing your presence once more and releasing an exasperated sigh. he just wanted to be alone. "guessing 'no' isn't in your vocabulary," he scowls, taking a seat at the edge of a ramp.

"no," you say, a cocky smile following.

he scoffs, digging into his grocery bag for a pack of skittles and a green apple flavored vape pen, laying on his back on the gravel to stare up at the moon, blowing out the vapor he sucked into his mouth. you pout your lips, taking a seat next to him, reaching into your bag for your wine, knocking a few sips down in silence.

"what's your deal?"

"i just find you interesting."

"no one talks to me. so why are you?"

"not even pretty girls like me?" biting your lip, you scan over his face, and it remains the same; stagnant. "i know there's women bowing at your feet to fuck you."

   toji rolls his eyes, a habit. "whoever i fuck is none of your concern."

   "so he's not a virgin, duly noted," you whisper to yourself.

   "name."

   "[♡]."

   "cute," is all he says before standing to his feet, taking one more puff out of his pen before grabbing his skateboard and positioning it on the ledge of the ramp, steadily dropping his foot and falling down. you watch him with fascination as he skates, laying your chin in your palms with your elbows on your knees, leaning in like an attentive child. he looked so pretty under the moonlight.

   this daydream ends when you notice a group of four men far behind bushes, titling your head to see them clearly. one of them, lanky with shoulder-length blonde hair, is seen handing the person before him a clear bag with tablets in them, and in return, gets cash. they're dealing drugs. minding your business, you turn your attention back to fushiguro whom notices this, and easily you can see the anger flash in his eyes as he jumps off his skateboard and lands on his feet beside you. it's not until the group of three approaches the two of you that you see why he's mad.

   the guy dealing drugs just so happened to be river, aka the asshole who slashed his face. he stalks closer with a nasty laugh, clicking his tongue as he keeps mainly his attention on the big man beside you. "fushiguro!"

   "toji," he corrects, not fond of people using his last name. toji, you repeat in your head. hot.

   "good to see you all healed."

   "healed is an understatement."

   awe shit, you just know some shit is going down. you gather yourself, standing nearby but not too far behind him.

   "the fuck do you want?" toji snarls, and you swallow your own lips, barricading an inappropriate sound.

   river holds up a few clear zip lock bags stashed with drugs from his hoodie pocket, jangling them with a grin. "selling the goods. do you want some? ohh, wait. that's rude of me, i forgot you lived in a household full of mentally unstable people who feen for drugs."

you couldn't help but fix your posture and stand in front of toji before he beat the asshole to a pulp. by all means, don't hesitate. but, you wanted your turn first. toji doesn't allow it to phase him, since he's heard similar things a million times. what's funny is that this kid barely knows him, yet he seemed to acquire so much intel on his life.

"watch your fucking mouth," you seethe, face close to his and fists balled up. "before i cut your tongue out, then what will you have to talk shit?"

"out the way, bitch," river snarls, his hand wrapping tightly around your arm to yanking you to the side. "none of this has to do with you."

murder could sum up the stone cold stare in toji's eyes, the man inhaling before kicking his skateboard away, emerging forward with his head slightly cocked to the side. until you make this direct back to you by standing back in between again, scowling up at river who's ready to strike you this time, but, doesn't have the chance as you ball your fist and punch him hard across his jaw, not once either. the second hit is an uppercut. then comes the finale; kneeing him in the dick where he stumbles to the ground with a strained grunt.

toji stares down at the back of your head with an impressed raise of his brow, an ounce of his anger sufficing.

"last thing i am is a bitch. i'll fuck you up if you say some stupid shit like that to me again. the fuck," you're not even half done, marching forward until toji grabs your forearm and stops you, whipping your head around to catch his gaze, telling you to chill out without saying it. really, he's amused. but this isn't your fight.

he crosses around you, crouching down to river's level, latching his hand around his collar and dragging him to his feet without any emotion implanted on his face. it's all in his eyes. he's pissed that he insulted you. furious that he scarred his perfectly imperfect face. the nerve.

"the only reason you're alive is because i couldn't kill you on school grounds. don't think you're getting away so easily after what you did to my fucking face."

punch. the hit is so hard it makes you jump, practically hearing the bones in river's nose crack as toji hits him again, and again, again. all in his face to make a point. he's bleeding excessively, his so called 'friends' waiting until he's half beaten to try in step in.

"step back unless you wanna get fucked up next," he points, voice ravenous, making the two men freeze nervously. you shift in your spot, pushing back the acknowledgment of dampness between your legs.

"like i was saying," toji sniffs, ducking when river makes a lousy attempt at throwing a punch, toji grabbing his wrist, balling it in his palm as if it were a piece of paper, twisting his arm as river screams. toji pins it behind his back, shoving him down on the ground where he then presses his right shoe on the side of his bruised face. "don't look so tough without your knife now, huh? you're stupid to even try that on someone you just met. you don't know me. you don't know where the fuck i'm from."

   "fuck. you," he spits out blood over toji's vans. you hold a hand over your heart dramatically, upset about him ruining his shoe. not so much about the fact that he's brutally assaulting a freshman, a kid. a kid whose also old enough to know right from wrong. he stepped into the wrong territory like an adult, so now, he'll get his ass whopped like one. he's lucky toji didn't press charges.

should i kill him? he wanted too, badly. the kid ruined his face, a scar impossible of fading into nothingness. it's there for life. he's an idiot kid. besides, he couldn't traumatize you like that. actually, he's scared you've seen worse. sighing, he picks the boy up once again and shoves him in the arms of his friends who weakly support him. river's sight is barely there, heaving over the gravel.

"i advise you not to cross my path, since i'm back tomorrow."

you gasp, catching everyone's attention. "you are?! oh my god."

toji's eyes widen the moment you squeal happily and jump into his arms, wrapping your legs around him. he's stuck, hands instinctively going to your waist, watching one of the guys before him turn beet red and quickly divert his attention to a tree. toji now realizes your skirt is riding up your ass, rolling his eyes and turning the other way, setting you down and tugging it back in its position with a clench of his jaw.

river stands from his feet, shoving away his friends and holding his gushing nose while staring dead at his partner who was beginning to grow a boner. he scoffs, disgusted. "tomato, quit acting like you don't jerk off to porn every week. it's just an ass."

"a nice one," the other says, boldly.

toji folds his arms across his chest, you mocking him by doing the same, waiting for the group to disperse. river, their wonderful leader, steps up to toji who ups his chin, ready to clock him, as if what he had gotten wasn't enough.

"this isn't over."

"yeah, they all say that. just make sure you take that advice seriously if you'd like to see another day," toji grits his teeth, river holding back his tongue, letting out a small 'tsk' before stumbling off with his posse.

"bitch ass," you mumble.

"enough," he snaps his finger in your face. you swallow, his hard stare and sudden closeness makes your stomach do backflips. fuck, he's so hot. "you're stupid for attacking him. he could've hurt you."

"stupid for standing up for myself? nah. as for him hurting me? you wouldn't have let that happen."

"says?" he sassed.

"i can see it in your eyes," toji's eyes divert to your plush lips, watching you move closer until you're chest to chest, feeling your hardened nipples graze him through your lace crop top. "you want me, therefore, you gotta keep your prize clean."

the sound of a switchblade catches him off guard, seeing you pull the weapon from your back, grabbing the bottom of your skirt and shredding off a long piece straight across.

"what are you doing?"

"your knuckles are bleeding," you say, tucking the blade away before grabbing his hand which he's stubborn on releasing strength before finally relaxing his hand, letting you bandage it. when you lower your lips to his palm, he feels his chest warm up, your teeth locking onto a piece of the fabric to pull the knot you made tighter. "all done."

you stroll away from him, taking a seat in your original position, wine and his skittles in your hand.

"hey, didn't you but your own shit?" he growls, stomping near you, the barbaric man so intriguing to toy with. he snatches them from you, sitting down and popping some into his mouth.

"share atleast." you pout.

he sighs. "hold out your palm."

giddy, you do as he says, toji pouring the contents into your hand, swinging your legs as you happily enjoy them.

"prize."

"huh?"

"it's what you said earlier. that i have to keep my prize clean. is that your way of saying you're rewarding me?"

"i think you're a cool ass person underneath that cold," you poke his chest. "quiet exterior. i salute you for not taking shit from so many people that look at you like a threat instead of a person. maybe i'm exaggerating, maybe i'm delusional, but . . . i feel like i see myself in you. or at-least the person i'm trying to become."

"vacant?" he jokes.

"admirable," you correct with a tiny smile, toji blinking. finishing your drink and tossing your head back, you hum contently from the feel of nighttime breeze. "from what i've heard, you deal with a lot, so i admire you for still being you aside from, you know, bullshit."

"that was sweet, i'm disgusted."

you hit his shoulder, sucking your teeth as he laughs wholeheartedly. he sits up, dark eyes hunting you like prey as you run your fingers through his straight hair, leaning closer to press a gentle kiss to his healing scar.

"i'll kill him for this," you fume silently, highly upset that a human being could do this to another. you knew it hurt like hell that day, he just didn't want to show it.

"it's nice to have someone care, i've never had that."

"me neither," those single pecks of kisses turn into multiple, the alcohol in your system giving you the balls to direct the situation, holding his face still in both your hands before gently kissing him. "let's care for each other."

toji grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in, opening his mouth to slip his tongue over yours, moaning through the pain on his face and deepening the kiss, free hand groping your ass over the thin black skirt you wore, thighs covered in fishnet stockings. you exhale, disconnecting your lips, licking them to relinquish the taste of him, desire fueling you completely. you sit on your knees, ignoring the pain of the concrete, deciding to shrug off your flannel and bundle it up beneath you; substitute for a pillow.

he's gawking at you like a hawk, groaning as you trail your lips over his neck, kissing, sucking, all while unzipping his jeans and pulling his heavy cock out, brick hard for a good minute now. it rose when you told him you'd kill river just for cutting his face. couldn't help it.

"been thinkin' about you all week," your head lowers, and his skin prickles with heat the moment those full lips encase his cock. you whimper with satisfaction before wrapping your dainty fingers around, barely fitting.

"me fuckin' too," his jaw drops, tossing his head back while leading his hand to your head to gently guide you, hissing once he easily hits the back of your throat that compresses around him salaciously. he hasn't gotten head in a while, almost forgot how good it felt. so much better than his hand. you moan from the approval, gyrating your hips in the air after feeling how soaked you were. your head bobs and your lips glide to his exact desire.

his thigh twitches the more you gag or swallow him down, a lewd pop sounding the empty park as you kiss along the underside where a prominent vein pulsates, sensually kissing at his tip, slicking the point of your tongue between his slit which makes him gasp, the sensation ticklish. you took pleasure in giving men head, making you drunk off it every time.

"ooh, fuck," toji throws his head back, slowly thrusting up into your mouth, hearing him hit into your throat, pupils flipping white. you moan when he whispers 'baby' or whimpers out a 'stay here' before holding your head down for a second or two, keeping that warmth around his cock a little longer, letting you go and to his surprise, not coughing.

you leave your tongue to drool over his tip, licking your swollen lips before hiking up your skirt, toji holding the back of your thighs as you arch above him, chest in his face, gasping as he latches his mouth over your nipple through your shirt. tearing open your stockings, imbedding his fingers into your skin, so fucking soft it makes his dick jump. you smelt nice, you looked pretty, you made him feel good . . . a prize indeed.

  arching your back, you keep your left knee to the ground while your right foot remains flat, leg bent as you lift your ass and slick your entrance over his timid head, biting hard on your lower lip as you sink yourself down, clenching tight. the burn is pleasurable, so fucking thick you weren't sure if he'd even fit.

"you can do it, be gracious. aren't you rewarding me?" toji drags his teeth over your neck, behind your ear, clasping your hair once again. he's right, you totally can. it's just been a while since you've had anything remotely close to his size. you slowly work your hips to accommodate him, shuttering the lower you reach, taking a minute until he's somewhat in.

"feel that? how deep i am?" he taunts, hands gripping your hips to sink you down entirely, closing his eyes in bliss. you cry out.

toji finds it amusing that you're so fussy and talkative while engaging in conversation, but when he's smacking your ass and grunting by your ear each time you drop your ass down onto his jean covered thighs, grinding on his cock pruriently, you're not much of a shit talker. instead, you're sensitive, extremely. he rushes his fingers over your clit; you're crying. he pulls your hair; you're whimpering. he tongues your nipples over your top; you're screaming. he couldn't think properly. he's done this plenty of times, many women. with you, it's different. is it because there's an actual connection? he's fond of you. how the fuck was that possible after being in your presence for only two hours?

"yes, yes, yes," the deluge of whines makes the black haired man spellbound. your nails are forming crescents into his shoulders the faster you bounce, the two of your breaths mingling in the air, panting quicker.

"fu—fuck," toji's brows curl, paying close attention to the lecherous noise of your pussy taking him, dripping down his lower half like a faucet. "i'm getting fucking close."

"fuck me back," you plead, shifting forward as a way of telling him to lay down. he sighs shakily, your voice so goddamn venereal it's killing him. he tells you not to stop, laying on the gravel and bending one of his legs he uses to push up into you, getting rougher, bruising your flesh as he fucks you hard until you salivate, tongue sticking out and pupils scrolling back into your skull.

"good girl, cum for me," he hovers his hand inches away from your ass before hitting you over and over, your small hands compared to his balling up the black shirt on his chest, hips buckling and downright filthy moans leaving your throat as you cum to his command.

"the hell are you kids doing?!" a flashlight shines over the two of your faces, and you swear your heart falls to your ass. it's a cop. shit. gasping, you hide and hop off of him without hurting him, toji laughing as the two of you scramble to gather yourselves.

"go, go!" you yell, yanking his arm as you both run out of the park, toji being sure to snatch up his skateboard, leaving everything else behind. sprinting, the two of you rush past bushes, cars, and streets until you come in contact with a dark alleyway.

"fuck, we got caught," you laugh as you check the corner of the graffitied passageway in search for the cop you're almost sure didn't have the patience to chase either one of you.

a rough hand grabs onto your cheek, turning your gaze back to him, eyes sparkling under the dimly lit street lights. a solemn looks paints his features, fingers digging into your cheeks to make your lips pout. he traces his thumb over them, and you can tell what he wanted, reading him so well. he pushes you down to crouch before him, snagging your hair to lock you still while pulling his aching cock back out. by docility, you spread your lips apart, welcoming him with pride. he wastes no time, sliding his dick as deep as he desired and pounding until he's satiated. keeping that hand in your hair, the other resides below your chin, cupping it gently while fucking your mouth savagely.

"baby, fuck," he's spent, knees bending as he cums with a breathy moan, head resting on the wall behind your body. it's a lot since he's still sailing through his orgasm, slowly rolling his hips. you fall back, gulping before sucking him clean, making sure to hollow your cheeks, giggling when he whines. he's glaring down at you, always, dark hair dismantled over his forehead. you kiss his tip, licking your lips before tucking him back into his jeans and zipping him up.

toji helps you to your feet, wrapping his hand around your neck before kissing you tenderly, melting in his hold.

"good girl," he slips his tongue in your mouth, squeezing any part of you he liked. everywhere, basically.

good girl. it has you throbbing all over again. his praises felt warm. made you feel submissive, small, obedient. "wanna come to my house?"

toji nods, smiling shyly. "sure."

"can i tony hawk my way there?!" you ask excitedly.

toji raises his brow, shrugging with a chuckle. "okay?"

#𑄽𑄺 ━━ ꒰ 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 .ᐟ ꒱ #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x black reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #jjk fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen toji

[blingblong55]

Money, Money, Money- 141 X Reader X F1

Based on a request:

Idk if i can put in two requests but please. PLEASE I fucking love f1 Give more cod x f1 I dont care who and what and where, i just need more fics like that Thx for everything bestie(Feel free to ignore) --- GN!Reader, 141 x reader x f1

So I must leave, I'll have to go To Las Vegas or Monaco And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

The fame, the women/men that wanted you to date them, and the adrenaline, are all worth it and all possible if you drive in Formula 1. Twenty of the best drivers in the world, all in ten separate teams, every other weekend for 23 times a year you race around the globe to become the desired World Champion of that season. There was something that was missing, your friends, the military men you met years ago when one got lost and they ended up finding you.

"R/N!" Soap called, running to you for yet another exciting weekend. They were home from a mission and all seemed to be in a good mood. Ghost and Gaz even made sure to bring their caps to support your team. Soap played the role of the boyfriend so other women/men would not bother you. Price made it look like he was your father figure and Gaz and Ghost were always suspected to be your siblings or best friends. Of course, Ghose became loved by your fans, a man who wore a cap and a black surgical mask had become attractive to them. He never cared for it, would sometimes give the camera the bird and soon they learned to never show him again.

The four men had become your luck charm, the drawings of a bar of soap, cap, skull and a bonnie all on your helmet for every race. In a way, they became the second family whilst on the road. It was nice, you got to keep real friends close and have fun and good memories with them.

Soap for some reason played the role of your partner far too well. Suspicions amongst drivers and the media grew as the time went by. Truthfully, if he was your partner, he'd be as supportive as he is now. Maybe even more. Some of the other drivers need police escort whilst all you need is your best mates. Race after race, they would either hear your answerphone or you'd be on screen pointing at your helmet, your four drawn luck charms on it.

This race was one you were looking forward to, the Brazilian GP. All honouring the late Ayrton Senna, the favourite driver in Brazil, Hamilton and rooting for your two current rivals, Verstappen and Sainz. By Tuesday, you met up with Price, he was alone, which was weird. Soap was usually the first hug of the day. "So, where are the rest?" you kindly ask.

"Getting some rest, they had a rough flight." a lie he told that you believed. In truth, they had used this visit for a mission, most people would be focused on the race and that meant they had time to execute some mission. You believed him because the only lie he had told years ago was that they were just pub mates on a weekend out, never that they were trained soldiers who happened to be in the elite military force that is known as SAS. Brutal, strong and agile, that is who they are, not pub mates.

As the day went on, Price disappeared from sight. Instead of the usual welcome lunch they'd have with you, you walked around the paddock, wandering like a child.

Hours went on, but no text or call. Just a greeting from the answerphone, "It's me, just leave a message." But that's the problem, you never left a message, They knew how nervous this race was for you, Soap would always answer but why not now? You needed his usual comments, the banter Ghost gave and the shoulder pats Gaz gave you.

Somewhere in the country, the men executed their mission with absolute perfection. Few bruises and scratches, nothing new except this time they lied to you, if it wasn't for their mission to be in Brazil and your race to be happening at the same time, they would have not shown up. They'd be elsewhere, fighting for a good reason but not visiting you at the track. Gaz felt awful, having to lie to his best friend about what he was doing, even after them confining in you about what they do for a living, they still wouldn't and don't expect you to actually understand their reasoning for not telling you about this mission.

There you were, on the big screen as you answered questions over the best qualifying session you've had all season. They sneak in, trying to pretend like they didn't just kill the enemy and its soldiers.

"A perfect qualifying, what do you say to that R/N?" the interviewer said. You sigh in contentment, "Yeah, well it is amazing to have had such amazing times at each lap, I'm sure the team and I will want to keep these numbers and maybe go faster for tomorrow's race." You say and most of the crowd cheers in agreement. Soap should know but this time around he is lost, how great was your time? Did you go for pole position or are you just in the top three? Gaz definitely feels like a bad friend, not there to actually watch you like he always did.

After each qualifying, you'd greet them, run up to them and hug them but because you thought they weren't there, you just went towards the team and hugged them. From a distance, the men saw you celebrate as if they never existed in your life. It was them who you were supposed to hug, them who you should run up to. Soap was supposed to pat your helmet and you'd complain about it later.

Usually after the hug, you'd greet fans then the usual interviews or meetings with the team would take place. It wasn't until after 8 at night that they saw you again. They learned that you broke a new record for the team. Your speed was impeccable, and they weren't even there to witness such a memorable moment for you.

A/N: I think I went off my original idea to this...sorry

Tags: @agasawit

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod 141 #cod #mwii #mw2 141 #task force 141 #141 x reader #141 #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x 141 #cod x you #cod x y/n #cod x gn!reader #cod mwf2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod ghost #cod gaz #cod soap #cod price #mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare two #modern warfare #cod x f1 #cod men #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare

[m00nc4kes]

I love you. (pt.3)

hobie brown x black! reader

words: 6k

rating: teen & up

summary: He loves you. He loves you not. He loves you.

warnings: gender isn't mentioned for reader but they're fem leaning; angst with a happy ending; drinking mentions; lots of flower metaphors; yall know the drill

part 1 part 2

He loves you.

The flower petal flew away in the wind, dancing as it floated to the ground. You plucked another petal, letting the soft texture of it leave your fingertips.

He loves you not. 

A frown etched itself onto your face when you realized how it would end. Again. You stared at the last petal for a long moment before plucking it and releasing it into the wind. 

He loves you.

The flower stem was discarded to the side as your breath left you in a heavy wave. You knew he loved you, you could allow yourself to believe that. Especially after the last three flowers yielded the same results— the universe told you the same thing. But you wished he would tell you instead. You wished his love for you was greater than his fear of losing you.

You didn’t know how much longer you could keep the flower petals in between your fingertips before they rotted away.

There were shouts and cries in the distance. You knew you were getting close. You reached up to pull the mask over your nose then secure your hood over your head. The brass knuckles you wore glistened in the sunlight as you clenched your hands into fists. Your boots slammed onto the pavement as you broke out into a run. 

Protests and riots had practically erupted all over the city after the Prime Minister established a curfew. It was in response to the citizens’ unrest about the police brutality that the PM refused to acknowledge. You weren't the only victim of the pigs' barbaric behavior— of their complete disregard for regular citizens. But that was only one thing on the long list of beef you all had with the PM.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared the crowd in front of the government building. The place was packed and condensed with furious people. The energy coming from the place told you that the protest would become a riot in no time at all. People were screaming at the pigs adorning their riot gear and their shields, you didn’t blame them. You moved past people until you could see the front.

Someone stood above the crowd, screaming obscenities at the filth in front of them with a megaphone. They cried, “How dare you!” While the people joined them.

Your eyes reached for the skies, searching the rooftops for a familiar spiked Spider-man. You knew he was somewhere— he always was. He watched and observed the pigs, daring them to flip the switch on you guys.

You were always drawn to him, your eyes never failing to find him even in the unlikeliest of places. Even if the glimpse of him lasted merely a moment, only to be blown away in the wind like the petals that often found themselves in the palm of your scarring hands— you would always find him.

Like now. You spotted him squatting on a nearby rooftop, watching the scene unfold with a tilted head. You let yourself observe him a little longer before returning to the crowd. You joined the shouts and the cries of the people until it all went south.

Tear gas was first— then the pigs started shooting rubber bullets into the crowd as they used their shields to push everyone back. It quickly became a violent mess, though one you’d been prepared for. 

Your brass knuckles slammed up against a pig’s mask and made him stumble back. He had been in the middle of pinning someone on their back, but you’d be damned if you let it slide. You grabbed the person on the ground and took off with them. 

You were practically hacking up a lung, trying to breathe through your mask. It didn’t help that you couldn’t see much of anything. People were fighting and running all over the place and the person in your arms wasn’t faring any better. He had snot and tears running down his face. You just wanted to get the two of you out, but you still couldn’t see shit. 

You knew your old wounds would ache when you went home later. Man, you longed for a bath.

Your eyes stung as you whipped your head around. Through the fog, you couldn’t tell if you got turned around or not. You didn’t want to panic— you didn’t. But your nerves were getting fried and the guy hanging off of you wouldn’t be much help. 

Then, you heard Hobie’s voice in the haze.

“Oi! Keep runnin’, mate!” 

It was enough to fuel your footsteps again and keep your nerves solid enough to get you two out of there. You were sure he didn’t know it was you, but it didn’t matter to your wounded heart.

The last petal on your flower would tell you the same thing over and over as it danced in the wind: He loves you. 

You saw Hobie from time to time outside of the protests. Sometimes you’d overhear a concert occurring while you stood near a venue or spot him in a pub as he chatted with his friends. In each instance, you would stall your cheers or resist the urge to ask him for a tipsy dance. Instead, you would carry on as if your heart wasn’t rapping against your ribs and your legs weren’t threatening to buckle from underneath you.

You wondered if he ever knew you were there. If he even wanted to be with you anymore. Maybe the fear convinced him to fall out of love with you and give up on the two of you.

Perhaps it was time for you to move on— the flower petals could only do so much. Eight months and four days was enough time to mourn a relationship and move on, wasn’t it? You’d stop thinking in patterns and repeated words, hoping to make sense of your failed love with Hobie. You’d understand that love was a four letter word not meant for you— not selfish enough for you. You’d understand that once upon a time, Hobie loved you and you loved him.

Even with the last petal screaming ‘He loves you!’ in the palm of your scarred hands, you could move on. You should move on. No, no, you would. You would move on.

You would let go of that petal and watch it fly away. The universe could tell you whatever it wanted— but you were tired of holding out hope. Eight months and four days was enough time to pick up your fractured pieces and mend your heart. You could put the pieces around the blade Hobie had put there and move on. 

The idea didn’t sit nicely with you at first. You toyed with it, swirling it around as if it were the whiskey in your glass cup. You’d sit alone at pubs, thinking of the possibility of letting go, as bitter of a taste it left in your mouth. When you grabbed a flower, the idea made you hesitate at plucking the petals, forcing you to stop asking the universe questions you already knew the answer to.

Then, the idea adjusted to you and your habits. It would lead you out of your pining and show you that moving on wasn’t just a possibility, it was something you could do. It made you think that your relationship with Hobie was something to learn from, not something to return to.

But the idea never considered that your resolve would be so weak when confronted with Hobie again.

Your protest organizer called a meeting a few weeks after the curfew was put in place. She said the meeting was extremely important since she would be partnering with another group. Apparently, if everyone played their cards right, the PM and police department could be overthrown. So you weren’t surprised that your usual meeting place was completely packed.

People were still showing up in the little room, standing around talking to each other. You, on the other hand, were sitting at one of the tables that littered the place, talking to one of your friends. 

She leaned in close, a conspiracy on the tip of her tongue. “I heard this group has close dealings with Spider-Punk, that’s why Ramona wants to work with them on this.”

You had to stop the panic from reaching your expression. You answered slowly, “Is that right?”

She hummed and tapped the table. “Apparently some of the people in the group know his identity— they’re not gonna tell us who he is, though. For good reason. You never know who might crack under a little pressure from the police.”

“Huh.” Your mind was absolutely reeling. You had thought you’d seen Kamala at some point— but you psyched yourself out. You didn’t want to believe that one of Hobie’s friends were here, because if there was one of them, then there would be all of them.

And that meant Hobie would be here.

You were going to say more to your friend but you accidentally locked eyes with someone across the room. It took you looking away then looking back to realize you were staring at Riri Williams. Another one of Hobie’s best friends.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

She openly stared at you for a moment. You were sure your expression matched hers and even more sure that you two were on the same train of thought. The two of you never harbored any ill will towards each other, she was a fun person to be around, even after you and Hobie fell apart. But she could understand how awkward this was about to be. 

Suddenly, her eyes flicked over toward the door then back at you. You turned your head to face the door to see Hobie. He gave Riri a confused frown. You saw the moment he followed Riri’s gaze and his honey-colored eyes found you.

Your heart leapt to your throat and you found yourself trapped under his gaze. Surprise was written all over his face, but there was a flash of something else in his eyes. You hadn’t seen it in such a long time, but you knew him well enough to recognize that glint of sudden resolve.

Before you could consider what it meant, Ramona moved to the front and cleared her throat. You tore your attention away from Hobie.

“If it’s alright with y’all, I’d like to commence this meeting.” Her words were silk smooth yet commanding at the same time. 

People started grabbing chairs and filling up tables around the room, so you weren’t surprised to find that someone was moving the chair beside you to sit down. However, your soul nearly left your body when you realized exactly who was there. 

Hobie, in all his lanky glory, leaned back into the seat with his arms folded across his chest. He lazily met your gaze through half-lidded eyes which made you turn away from him. You wanted to crawl into a tiny hole and never come out.

Ramona began to explain how the symbiotes worked and how she planned to use their weaknesses against them, all things you’d heard before. Every so often, the other organizer would ask questions to clarify certain points. You believed if you focused and contributed enough to the conversation, you would forget about the man sitting next to you.

“Now, we do require a lot of speakers and amps for this to work out,” Ramona started, “If anyone’s able to pitch in, it would be greatly appreciated.”

You leaned forward onto the table. “If you need a shit-load of speakers, I got a cousin who’d be willing to donate.”

Other people joined in with other things they could supply and one by one, everything needed was being checked off the list. Ramona clapped her hands together.

“This is perfect. And I’m assuming those of you who know Spider-Punk can relay the message, yes?”

Hobie spoke up, “Word by word, ma’am. The bloke won’t be missin’ a detail.”

“Absolutely wonderful.”

You hadn’t seen Ramona so hopeful in a long time and that brought a gentle smile to your face. For someone who’d been fighting against the government for so long, you could only imagine the relief she felt. The smile on your face promptly fell from your lips when a foot pressed up against your boot. You didn’t spare it any attention and shifted your foot away. You could handle an accidental touch, you told yourself as you released a shaky breath.

Yet, the Chuck Taylor persisted and nudged your foot again. You didn’t quite appreciate your heart being sent into the stratosphere from the very intentional touch. This time, you pointedly moved your foot out of the way and shot Hobie a glare. To which he returned with a confused eyebrow raise.

He had the audacity to jut out his chin to tell you to pay attention which— you were just doing. You bit down the spike of irritation and returned your attention to Ramona. Your cheeks were starting to warm up and it only made your irritation harder to curb. The last thing you wanted to deal with was being flustered. 

Everything suddenly got worse when Hobie’s foot was there again, pushing up against your foot and— what were you going to do? 

Not this, that’s for sure. You weren’t going to play footsie with him— not when you still had that double-edged sword lodged in your chest. And definitely not when you were finally getting used to the idea of moving on. You weren’t doing this.

So when his shoe nudged you, begging for your attention, you moved to slam your heel onto his foot. He needed to cut it out. But, your shoe only met the floor when he shifted his foot out of the way.

“Too slow,” he muttered, not once sparing you a glance.

The words made your brain short-circuit. Wires were in disarray, clogs weren’t moving like they were supposed to, and an indignant laugh was threatening to leave your mouth. You had to cover your mouth and turn away from him. You didn’t know what his main objective was, but you were familiar with his antics. He knew which buttons to press to pique your competitiveness and you didn’t like that. The action only made playfulness surge through you even though you tried to force it down.

What was the point in egging you on like this?

His foot was back and pressing up against yours again. It was a dare and a silent question.

Would you indulge him? Even after all of this?

You knew the answer to that, no matter how much you tried to lie to yourself and say otherwise. At the end of the day, you were completely and utterly weak for Hobie and maybe he knew that.

You pushed your foot against his shoe, accepting his dare. You kept your face turned away from him, you didn’t think you could handle him seeing the way your lips quirked up. Which is why you missed how his eyes lit up. 

You could practically hear the universe again, reminding you of your flower petals. Your past I love yous, your broken heart, and your longing for Hobie spurred you to play footsie with him until the end of the meeting. 

You were the first to pull away, shifting your body to face him completely when Ramona called an end to the debriefing. You just stopped and looked at Hobie, the very one who still had you wrapped around his finger, the one who had put you in this heartbroken position— and you said nothing. His warm dark skin, the countless piercings he adorned, his amber-colored eyes that held an infinite amount of secrets behind yet looked at you like you hung the stars— you took it all in. And you silently asked him why?

Your flowers answered for you over and over and over:

He loves you.

He loves you.

He loves— 

Before you could get his answer, there was a tap on your shoulder. You already knew who it would be, so you weren't surprised to see Ramona there looking between you and Hobie with a knowing look. She gestured for you to follow her. You figured it was about the supplies you volunteered for. You spared Hobie one last glance and he gave you one of those sweet smiles of his before you stepped away. 

You attempted to will your heart to stop racing as you followed Ramona into her little office. She suddenly spoke and broke you out of your reverie.

"I was going to get straight to business and ask about the speakers, but I'm curious," she trailed off as a smile broke out across her dark skin. "Is that boy a lover of yours?"

If you were drinking water, you were sure you would've spat it out everywhere. Your mouth hung open for a few moments. Lover was such a strong word. "Uh," you were going to play dumb. "Who?"

She gave you a look that said you weren't fooling anyone. 

"That boy you were giving heart eyes to."

"Heart eyes?" You shook your head and blew a raspberry. "Far from it."

"Oh so you just look at everyone like that?"

You gave a non-committal hum. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't." You started to drum your fingers on her desk as your mind wandered.

Ramona let out a puff of air and shrugged. "If you say so, but he was definitely giving you the look."

Your head practically snapped to look back at her. "What look?"

“Hm. Who knows?” She was teasing you, you could tell from the way she smirked at you. You slumped over her desk with an exaggerated noise. 

“Ramona, c’mon—”

“Well.” She took her time to dig through some files in a cabinet behind her desk. “It’s like I said earlier: heart eyes. But maybe I’m reading too much into it?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

You didn’t exactly have an answer to that. Your gaze fell to the floor. Were you reading too much into this? Trying to figure out what the hell Hobie was trying to do? 

There was a hand on your shoulder. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to pry ‘n make you all sad now.”

You placed your hand over hers. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s just that—” You hesitated. You wanted to hold your tongue but something about Ramona’s kind brown eyes made you speak. “I don’t think we know how to look at each other any other way.”

That confession rang loudly in the small, cluttered room. Ramona patted your shoulder then dropped her hand. “That’s surely something special, isn’t it?” She stepped away from you and pulled out a file. “Now, about those speakers.”

The topic practically flipped on its head and you eagerly gave her all the information you had about your cousin. Yet, your mind couldn’t let go of her words. 

It was special.

Your love was special. It made you hold out hope even when you believed you didn’t.

It was special enough to make you wait for Hobie, even after he broke your heart. Or, hey, maybe you were just stupid. Stupidly in love with Hobie Brown. 

You scoffed. It made you feel stupid.

When your meeting was over, Ramona bid you with a short farewell. “Good luck with your lover boy!”

You made an indignant noise, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

You opened then closed the door behind you, taking in a deep breath. The little meeting room was empty with some chairs in places they weren’t supposed to be.

Then there was a voice to your left.

“Lover boy?”

You whipped around so fast that you swore your neck would’ve snapped if you went any faster. You openly gaped at the sight of Hobie leaned up against the wall with his hands tucked neatly into his leather jacket. 

“You…” You started off slowly. “You didn’t go home?” You couldn’t keep the bewilderment from being evident on your face.

Hobie simply pushed himself off of the wall. “I was waitin’ for ya.”

The eye contact you two shared was too intense for you. You dragged a hand down your face and moved your gaze to the studded lapels on his jacket. You could remember vividly how you used to drag your fingers along the material to entice him for a kiss—

You shut that thought down there. 

“First footsie, now this,” you muttered as you pulled your jacket closer to your body. Frankly, you didn’t think your heart could handle this. Figuratively and literally.

You didn’t spare Hobie another glance as you headed toward the exit. Though, he caught up to you easily. 

“C’mon, let me walk you to your flat. It’s late.”

Before your hand could touch the door, he pushed it open for you. The cool night air hit you and it was confirmed that it was, in fact, late.

Noticing your sudden pause, Hobie stepped forward and leaned his face into view. “Well? Whaddya say?”

You drew out a long breath. The universe had its way of fucking with you, didn’t it? Fine. You could play along. “Sure. Why not.”

The walk was strange. You weren’t drunk and stumbling over yourself this time, nor did you feel the need to acknowledge the space next to Hobie that you currently occupied. The two of you kept a respectful distance between each other— no arms draped over shoulders, no leaning on each other for balance, nothing. Only hands firmly tucked into jacket pockets.

You passed under yellow street lights as the sound of your shoes echoed into the air. Your gaze trailed to the ground as your mind wandered to a flower with beautiful pluckable petals. It was always up to chance anyway, so it never mattered how you started. And maybe, just maybe, you were feeling pessimistic. 

A petal fell.

He loves you not.

“Are you nervous?” you found yourself asking. Hobie startled beside you, most likely not expecting you to speak. He gave you a questioning look.

“About?”

The petals continued to fall in your mind. “The plan. Everything’s riding on whether or not Spider-man can handle the task.” 

Hobie clicked his tongue. “The bloke can handle it. Besides, he won’t be alone.” He paused to nudge your shoulder. “You’ll be there brandishin’ those brass knuckles of yours.”

Reeling from the sudden touch, your voice caught in your throat. “My— how did you—” You made a frustrated noise at your fumbling. “You noticed?”

He shrugged, his jacket brushing against yours as the space between you shrunk. “Hard not to notice someone absolutely deckin’ a pig at any given moment.”

There was a sense of pride behind his words that warmed your wounded heart. You felt your lips spread into a shy smile. 

He loves you. 

You merely shrugged, once again receiving that fleeting touch. "I don't do nothin' they don't deserve." 

Hobie snickered. "I know that's right."

See, you could do this. You could make small talk and be acquaintances. This was good. 

"You're still performing, right?" You already knew the answer to that. 

Hobie met your gaze out of the corner of his eye. "I am." 

"Could never take that from you, huh?"

The smile didn't quite reach his eyes and you feared that you had said something wrong. Though, he didn't let you linger in silence for long.

"Course not, but..." With how he trailed off and broke eye contact, you could guess what he wanted to say.

It wasn't the same.

And, well, of course it wasn't. You used to go to every show, even before you two ever got together. You loved the music his band made, so you made sure to be there in the front row, screaming to your heart's delight. So, no, it wasn't the same.

But whose fault was that?

Your hand absentmindedly found itself over your heart as you remembered that blade— the heartbreak. You hated how quickly your mind could flip a nice moment on its head. But there was no way you could just pretend that you didn’t remember how hopeless you felt after your relationship fell apart. Not when this very walk reminded you of how Hobie had stopped holding hands with you in public and how swiftly it had all spiraled after that.

Your flower cried, he loves you not.

“How’re your injuries?”

You blinked yourself out of your reverie, hoping your solemn thoughts didn’t reach your face. Though, with how concerned Hobie suddenly appeared, you were sure they did. It probably didn’t help that your hand was resting near one of your scars. 

You dropped your hand and did your best to wave his concern off. “Wouldn’t really call ‘em injuries at this point. They’re just scars now.”

“They don’t hurt anymore?” he asked. 

You sighed and moved your attention to the ground. They didn’t really hurt, they just ached at times like when you overexerted yourself or rolled out of bed wrong. The muscles that were torn didn’t really have the same flexibility anymore, but you could live with that. One amazing bath would take all of your problems away.

“They’re… fine,” you said carefully. And they were fine. You were fine with the scars they left even if, at times, you weren’t. You were fine even when they reminded you of why Hobie left— of a relationship you couldn’t seem to move past— of Hobie leaving your apartment and never coming back. 

You couldn’t do this.

Your footsteps slowed to a stop. You hated when your mind plagued your thoughts with this— No, you hated the effect Hobie had on you whenever he was near. You longed for him all of the fucking time like some lovesick puppy yet couldn’t handle being close to him at any given time. It made you feel stupid. 

“‘M sorry, I ain’t mean to pry.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could hear the guilt in his voice. You two weren’t standing beside each other anymore; Hobie stood a few steps ahead of you, under a streetlight while you stayed in the darkness surrounding it. 

You didn’t understand why you kept reacting like this— always reliving the past until it upset you. You just needed to take a deep breath and finish the rest of the walk. You’d be fine.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Hobie asked, taking a step forward. You took one back.

There it was. The straw that broke the camel’s back. The final nail in the coffin— You had told him to cut it out with all the pet names and he did. Of course he did, that’s who he was. But you were sick of how casual this all felt. You couldn’t just be acquaintances with him.

“Why are you doing this?” You started off quietly. It was merely a whisper in the wind. “You’ve got to know what this is doing to me, right?” You tried to calm your racing heart, to keep your emotions steady enough for you to speak.

You heard Hobie shift. “What?”

It truly didn’t help. “You—” Your hands tightened into fists. “You can’t just walk out of my life then walk me home like it's nothing!” You didn’t mean for your words to come out so sharply, but you were slowly tearing apart again. “You take care of me after getting left at some stupid party. Then you sit next to me and start a game of footsie— And proceed to offer to walk me home after. I—” Your voice got caught in your throat so you shook your head. You started again, this time much softer. “I don’t understand. You must know I’m having a hard time moving on, right? Can you tell? Is that why you keep…” you trailed off. The pathetic, choked laugh that left you made you want to curl into yourself.

You had to move your gaze to the starless sky to keep the tears at bay, but you continued. “What you’re doing… it’s…” Selfish. That’s exactly what it was. The realization dawned on you and you slowly tilted your head down to look at Hobie. The tears that welled up in your eyes dripped down your face.

Hobie, oh, Hobie stared at you with those eyes of his. Those eyes that shared the same color as the whiskey you used to drown your sorrows. A vice. Your vice. He practically glowed under the streetlight, his eyes glistening. 

He looked completely and utterly wrecked.

You just wanted an answer. “Why, Hobie?”

You could see his hesitation clearly as he opened then closed his mouth. In your mind, the last flower petal fell and tried to tell you what he couldn’t. But you didn’t want that. You were tired of guessing. Tired of plucking flowers. You just wanted him to tell you that he loved—

“Because I still love you, and ion know how to deal with that.”

Everything seemed to still, except for the tears that slowly fell down your face. Your mind couldn’t quite keep up. “You…” you started yet never finished. You couldn’t. 

Hobie observed you quietly with his eyes lidded and focused. You shifted on your feet under the intense gaze.

Your mind finally caught up and the words found themselves leaving your lips. “Why did— why’d you say that?” It was a stupid question. A stupid, stupid question, but Hobie took it in stride.

“Jus’ wanted to say it, duck.”

For a moment, you could imagine Hobie gripping the blade he had plunged into your chest, silently asking if you’d let him take it out. Your body started to shake as another round of tears overflowed from your eyes.

“Knowin’ I wouldn’t say it back?” 

There was a soft, understanding look on his face. “Knowin’ you wouldn’t say it back.” 

You knew the blade wouldn’t come out easily, you were sure it would never come out. Even if it did, the wound it left behind was sure to ache afterwards. But…

Your face was in your hands as your disbelief finally reached your wet, burning cheeks. You could hear your heart in your ears. “Can you say it again?” 

There was no hesitation. “I love you.”

You knew Hobie would do his best to soothe the pain in your aching heart, no matter how deep the blade had dug into his hands.

Your legs finally seemed to catch up as you timidly walked up to him, still wiping away your tears. Once close enough, you pressed into him and wrapped your arms around him. The action was reciprocated almost instantly as you silently wept into his jacket. 

Hobie’s embrace was warm and you never wanted to let go. His arms held you close as he spoke near your ear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurtin’ ya.” You could hear the emotion in his voice. “I made a mistake. I jus’— I thought it would be easier to stay away to keep you safe but— it was worse.” He pulled away just enough to see and hold your  face. “You were right. It’s not worth bein’ miserable.”

He wiped your tears away with his thumbs then said softly, “I couldn’t— I can’t stand bein’ away from you and seein’ you with that sad look on your face. I’m sorry, love. Please, forgive me.”

You looked at him with your watery eyes, realizing how quickly you’d just watched him break. Hobie Brown didn’t beg, but, for you, you knew he would. Your hands trailed up to his cheeks, brushing away his stray tears.

If only he knew that you had already forgiven him, as sad as it was. As broken as you were. You didn’t think there was a universe where you couldn’t forgive him. Not when his warm brown eyes stared at you as if you held his world. 

Love was a four letter word, and it made you do stupid things.

Like pull his face close and press your lips onto his. The kiss felt like a sigh of relief while the next conveyed how much you wanted and needed him in your life. 

When he pulled away and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispered, “I love you so much.”

You knew he would have no problem telling you such, over and over again. 

And he did just that when the plan was set into motion and the final standoff between the People and the Thunderbolt Department took place. Your cousin had hooked you up with your shit-load of speakers and it was all connected to a single guitar:

Hobie’s.

With a single powerful cord, the battle began. Pigs were everywhere but your group took them down with a grandiose need for freedom. It didn’t last long. The end of the affair was easily called when Hobie’s guitar bashed in the Prime Minister’s head.

Victory was sweet and smelled of blood, but the cheers and screams of the crowd overpowered it all. Hobie had torn off his mask and raised his bloody guitar in the air. The moment would be something you’d never forget, especially when Hobie looked at you with well-deserved pride written all over his face.

With hugs and cries being handed out around you, it took a moment for Hobie to reach you, but once he did, he squeezed you tight and kissed all over your face.

“Fuck! I love you so much, ducky!”

Your cheeks hurt from grinning so hard while the tips of your ears burned from the loud declaration. But you couldn’t stop yourself from cheering then planting a kiss on your boyfriend’s lips. Though, you were sure you couldn’t call it a kiss from how much you two were smiling.

You knew that there would be a lot of healing and growing as time went on. Hobie took no offense to you not being able to tell him that you loved him. He would say it enough for the both of you. Though, there would never be any doubt that he loved you. 

Not when he performed on stage, dedicating songs to you. Not when you two shared tipsy dances and kissed each other late into the night. Never.

But where was the fun in never saying it back?

“Hobie?”

He hummed, which was to be expected. It was late into the night and you both were supposed to be asleep. The boat rocked gently, attempting to lull you to sleep, but to no avail. You stared at your boyfriend’s resting face, taking in his handsome features.

There was something about this night that made you want to pour your sleepy heart out to him. It probably didn’t help that that godforsaken blade was no longer in your healing chest. Instead, it clambered to the floor and flowers blossomed at your feet.

You reached forward and placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. He peeked open an eye and gave you a small smile. He covered your hand with his and shifted his head to kiss your palm.

“Y’alright, me duck?” he whispered and you nodded. You leaned closer to him.

“I love you, Hobie.”

Both of his eyes flew open as he drew in a sharp breath. He gaped at you and his hold on your hand tightened. His mouth opened then closed. His reaction only made you smile which, in turn, brought tears to his eyes.

“Aw, Bee,” you cooed, pressing light kisses on his forehead. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He let out an indignant laugh because how could you expect him not to cry at least a little? He moved to wrap his arms around you and pressed your foreheads together.

“I love you too.”

The confession soothed your soul and calmed your heart. You smiled even after you fell asleep, it was hard not to. You didn’t have to pluck flowers anymore, asking the universe to spare you an ounce of hope. There was no denying the truth.

He loved you.

And you loved him.

header by me :0, divider by cafekitsune :3

so sorry this took so long pookies, but i hope you guys enjoyed this little series of mine <333 i put a lot of love into this last part and i hope it shows

(lawd i hope i got everyone who wanted to be on the taglist, sorry if I missed you!)

taglist: @hoe-bie @hao-ming-8 @anonoussy @amianelf-main @muffinlovesfiction @hobiebrownenthusiast (won't let me tag for some reason :'() @l0ve-sicc @monsterroonio @deathmoonpalette @tires-slashed

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #writing #spider punk x reader

[silent-raven13]

Punkflower thought

One of the things I don't see people talking about Hobie and Miles is one of their biggest arguments (most heated ones) is about Cops.

Yeah, we mention on here about Hobie making back handed comments toward Jeff or say things about Pigs. (Which is completely fair for him to act out and feel a certain way especially in his world cops are trash)

But one thing I realized is Miles' view of the police is waaaa-aaayyy different than Hobie's view on them.

We really don't talk about it much, but we do know Miles' knows he's a black teenager that had been stop by cops (in the comic books, I forgot which one was it). But from my memory I remember Miles being surprised (bc he was dressed as Spider-man) two cops stop him being happy to see him (as Spider-Man) and he was surprised he was met with cops that were happy to see him. (because he mentions he's normally stop by the cops for being a black teenager)

Now, in my fanfics on Punkflower, they rarely have fights or arguments. And we see Miles through out the movie, he's an easy guy to deal with, or he rarely gets mad (I'm sure if you pissed him off, you don't want to mess him) But normally, he's a chill guy, always forgiving and reasonable.

Then you got Hobie, who's laid back, always joking around, and prefers to make Miles see the truth (Going back to the scene he tries to defend/protect Miles from going to Spider Society).

Now present time (meaning they got together, Miles prove them wrong and all is great) The two rarely fight or argues, until Hobie makes comments about Jeff or about cops.

Miles can handle his boyfriend's words from time to time, but one times let say, Hobie slips out his true feelings about them.

Hobie: Man, fucking pigs. They are still wreaking havoc on the innocent. pfft, figures. This is why we should have no problem killing them off.

Miles: Wait? whoa, pause! Hobie, my dad is a cop, remember?

Hobie: Yeah, so? He fail his part.

Miles: Hobie, it's not that easy. There are some good cops out there that's trying to protect and-

Hobie looking at his boyfriend being super offended: Protect? GOOD? Sunflower, are you hearing yourself? They are fucking pigs! They only protect the privilege!

You can figure out where this leads. Now, many would say Miles would view the same thing as Hobie because he seen police brutality. But I don't think that's the case. Miles grew up with a father who's a cop, and became Chief of police, not to mention he sees how his dad is a good man. Jeff always trying to do right, fix the problem, do his part as the police. Not to mention, Miles probably met all of Jeff's friends from the force. All cops, a mix of bad and good cops, so Miles sees good man, husband, fathers are trying to make a living, and do right in this world. So Miles is stuck in the middle seeing both sides of the situation, he understand that the system is flawed, but he sees there are good cops out there. His dad is one, and he's trying.

For Hobie, he dealt with enough police brutality knowing the system will never change, especially having "good" cops. He sees how they fail to do anything, because they don't help change or fix anything. They continue to allow bad or corrupt racist ass cops to beat on black people without no punishment what's so ever. For him, it's a system that needs to be teared down and rebuild. It's something he strongly believes.

Thus, a heated conversation between the two. Both of their reasons are valid and it's a very sensitive topic to bring up.

#punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #across the spider verse #spiderman #spider verse #fanfic

[justatalkingface]

The worst part about the dark Deku arc in my opinion is the completely mixed messages. By attacking Izuku and criticizing what he did, they said the lives of all the people he saved weren't worth it. That he was stupid for leaving and should have stayed in his ivory tower with them. It wasn't like this guy was just fighting AFO and left school because these fodder children weren't enough. He saved MANY lives and took down numerous, murderous people who would have been left completely unchecked because Japan apparently does not have a military and the police aren't interested in protecting the citizens. Heroes are all that stands between total anarchy it seems, and most of them retired despite a crisis being the best possible time to earn fame and accolades. The civilians are left to fend for themselves with black market support gear they're so incompetent at using that they take themselves out with it and also wreck their own neighborhoods. Yo Shindo would be dead if Izuku stayed at UA. That's a point the narrative ignores. Muscular could have killed hundreds of people, thousands if he felt like it, and who could have stopped him? The man can withstand 100% OFA punches. That giant animal lady? She'd have been brutalized in a hate crime for no good reason. The fodder kids spit on all these actions. This man is out there actually helping people and saving lives, and their answer is to drag him back to their little safe zone where they keep all the civilians. Sure, let's put all our eggs in one basket and create a single point of failure! Why can't they all just join him in hero work? All 20 of them could be kicking ass and taking names. At least then we'd see the hero kids actually helping people for once. Yes, Izuku's lack of self care and mentality was self destructive, but the end result is that people were better off because he did it. He was being stupid for neglecting his own self care, not for leaving. If Izuku behaved the way they wanted him to, Nagant, Dictator, Muscular, and many others would still be in AFO's pocket and ready for deployment. Also, Aoyama was still the traitor and he 100% would have led Izuku into a trap if ordered to. Staying at UA would have created a worse outcome but the story doesn't acknowledge this at all. And it also didn't address Izuku's concerns, like you said. Bakugo dies, and Jiro loses an ear. We know these injuries will of course be reversed because the heroes have access to Eri who is like a senzu bean basically. But they didn't get massive power ups or anything. They just attacked a guy who didn't want to fight them and wouldn't beat them all into the dirt with Black Whip, like he totally and easily could have.

The funniest thing to me is AFO's complete inability to kill anyone. His confirmed kills are previous OFA holders, and this clown show is out here unable to kill literal children. The "Symbol Of Evil", everyone. What's funnier is that he treated Endeavor like an ant back at Kamino. The guy was completely beneath him. But then Endeavor gets buffed to be one of the strongest people in the world inexplicably and is capable of inflicting fatal wounds on AFO. All the training and upgrades in MHA happen off screen. It's the strangest thing how we've got a school setting, but it's the kids themselves doing all the training and inventing of new attacks and breakthroughs. They've got loads of pro hero mentors and a super genius principal who could theoretically give them the most efficient training plans possible and maximize their use of their quirks, but Mina trains with Bakugo and Shoto to perfect her acid. Well, I guess she's right. They're the ones at the forefront of fighting a war for their country, while many other heroes with more training and experience decided to just stay home. Which again, is the oddest thing. Are they hoping Shigaraki won't decay them when he wins? That AFO won't do a hero purge? We don't see them all fleeing Japan on planes or boats or anything. A lot of these people would have a decent amount of money and could leave with all their assets. Just straight up abandon ship. But we hear about them quitting because they don't like being criticized but not what they plan to do after. The cracks show a lot in MHA. It relies on so many contrivances to function. It's not a story that runs on cause and effect. As you said, everything has to go perfectly for things to work right. You mentioned Machia in another post, and it perfectly illustrates things. Imagine if the guy didn't suddenly decide to attack his master and instead he just crushed all these heroes. They have no one capable of defeating him and Momo's stuck at UA acting as a battery (lol) so they don't have a convenient drug to take him out this time. But of course they had the idea to use Gigantomachia against his allies, and of course when he was broken out of Shinso's brainwashing, he actually secretly hated AFO and wanted to fight him. Because the alternative is this being a suicidal, stupid plan and getting everyone killed when AFO frees his friend! The heroes always get to benefit from these unearned victories. They didn't flip Machia. They didn't earn his trust, or speak to him about his trauma and learn his past. They didn't have a heart to heart with him about his motivations and convince him he's more than a tool to be used by a megalomaniac. They didn't show him photos of all the people he crushed and ask him to make amends for what he did and help end the war he was used to start. No, he just gets a new personality with no build up to help stall a guy who can't manage mass fatalities we know he should be capable of, considering he destroyed Kamino VERY quickly. It's just like how Dabi has been shown to be able to turn people into charcoal in seconds with his flames, and also melt metal, but when he burns Hawks, he manages to barely damage his quirk a bit. And then the guy gets support gear so it's functionally like it never happened. The villains are always jokes in this series. Every victory they have is pyrrhic and there's a contrivance that lets the heroes still manage to get one over. This is the first narrative I've seen that's so openly biased for the main characters and doesn't try to hide it.

So the thing is with the Dark Deku arc? In many ways, it's the culmination of everything Hori's set up and left to rot. It's all these threads about heroic society Hori left blowing in the wind.

In other words? It's complicated. It's so so complicated, it's an arc that is all about complicated things, difficult subjects, and problems that don't have easy answers, and Hori treated it like it was a simple topic... but he couldn't even keep that up. It's such a mess, it's not even funny.

Because the thing is? You're right, Izuku did do good things while he wasn't in school. He saved people, many people, and that's something the story didn't acknowledge... at all. Meanwhile, his classmates, for all that they are trained to be heroes, trained to go and fight and protect, are sitting safe at home.

The thing is, though, that they are still children, all of them. Children shouldn't have to risk their lives for other people. They should live their lives, enjoy their youths. This is the moral question.

At the time though, on a logical level, each hero trained is, potentially, hundreds or thousands of people saved in the future; by allowing them to stay safe and grow up, far more people will be saved, theoretically, than if they were to be deployed in the field right now to save people. At the same time, though, Japan is in crisis, heroics as a whole is threatening to collapse under its own weight, and if they sit on their asses rather than help, there may not be a tomorrow for them. This is the logical question.

So morally, logically, which choice is right? Which is wrong? Is there even a right answer? What is the price someone should pay for others? What should a child give up for society? What are you willing to sacrifice to live how you want? What burden are you willing to bear for another's sake?

These are the kinds of questions this arc askes, and it's something you can't just avoid for as serious a topic as this. Personally, I'd say the answer is somewhere between these two points, but every story has its own moral and message it is ultimately saying is right or wrong, and that is eventually proved correct by the story itself. Sometimes it's that the day can be saved, if you just try hard enough, and that friendship is everything. Sometimes it's that the world is bitter and cold, and that only the strong and lucky survive.

Here's the problem MHA is suffering from, what this arc and Izuku ultimately exemplify: what is Hori saying is right? What is the moral or message that is correct here?

Yeah... Hori has no fucking idea. And, I've said this before, the fact he doesn't even seem to know what he wants beyond, 'ACTION! MORE ACTION! EXPLOSIONS! I CAST FIST!' is something that severely damages the overall story telling. It really feels like he doesn't know where things are even going, sometimes.

Ah, AFO. I really, honestly, feel sorry for him. He's just so... pathetic now. He suffers from being made too strong for the setting, and so Hori keeps having to nerf him just to explain why everyone is still alive. Like, really, honest truth? If I was AFO? I would have just, like, poisoned All Might years ago; none of this fair fight nonsense. The second All Might became a viable threat he should have started cheating like the criminal genius he apparently is, and taken advantage of all of the many, many advantages he has, between his Quirks, his resources, and his ruthlessness.

The spin off manga says AFO tried to steal Erasure back when Aizawa was still in training, which... yeah, that makes sense. Then he fails, and then... never tries again. Ever.

Am I the only one who sees the problem here?

I've seen people say that Aizawa, a man employed as a teacher in perhaps one of the most visible schools in existence, is too off the radar for him to find. When, apparently, AFO has his finger in the government, and criminal element, he is unable to... check his tax record to find out where he lives, or to have someone follow him home, or ambush him after he leaves the school he has to go to, or anything like that. Or, hell, just kill him, if Erasure is somehow too hard for him to get.

Oh well, I guess that's too much work for one of the most OP Quirks in the setting, one that can easily counter his All Might problem, or cripple him personally. Better to just ignore it entirely instead; what could go wrong with that?

Remember when AFO bitch slapped just about every top hero, minus All Might, causally? How in the fuck is Endeavour a threat to him now?

Yeah. The thing is, AFO is too strong, plain and simple. Even in a setting where All Might, who changes the weather while holding back exists, much less everyone without OFA. If he was allowed to have a fraction of the brains and fire power that we're told again and again that he has, the story never would have happened, because OFA would have been taken or destroyed generations before All Might even became a thing, before Izuku was even born. But the story is still happening, and people keep successfully beating him, and they need to keep beating, and will continue to until he is finally defeated. Does that make sense? No, but the show must go on.

On all the people not putting their part in... to be fair, we see a more personal version of Shigaraki than almost anyone else, in story. There's a real question of how many people even know what his goals are, much less who would believe it, since it's kind of nuts to say the least. Under that logic, I could see them not thinking it's worth the danger to themselves, though the fact they're willing to just sit there and do nothing when their ultimate fate is up to grabs, when they could actually make a difference, unlike so many other people, is... stupid. But people are often stupid, so to some extent, that is understandable, but you'd think the people who trained themselves to fight every day would be more willing to put their lives on the line... though, that goes back to the 'corrupt heroes' thing Hori keeps dropping.

Really, Machia's entire thing there is so mind numbingly dumb that, even though I made a post about how bad it is, I'm still surprised no one stopped to ask, 'And then what?' when Shinso proposed it. Brainwash is very powerful Quirk, don't get me wrong, but it is not a Quirk that is made for direct slug match like that... but Shinso is too cool to not include, so there we go, I guess! Hori does everything possible to justify him making a big, dramatic contribution to the fight when the smarter, yet absurdly obvious choice is Shinso just telling Machia to walk off to the other end of Japan, cover his ears, and wait there forever so that one of the most dangerous people in the story just doesn't participate in the final fight. But, you know, Post War is about the how COOL it is! For the cliffhangers! And Machia taking a nap, no matter how smart a choice, isn't a DRAMATIC CLIFFHANGER!

And that's the thing, really: so much of the worst choices in MHA (that aren't from long running overarcing problems that come from far earlier in the story, anyways) are about that, cheap drama. Every poor choice that everyone has criticized ultimately boils down to making every chapter DRAMATIC and EXCITING, by making every possible scene look cool, even if it needs to be promptly taken back in the very first panel of the next chapter that follows it, even if it conflicts with things he's said before, even if it makes everyone involved an idiot. Hori has taken the worship of cliffhangers above everything else in MHA, over story, or logic, or characters, or messages,; any and all of it will be sacrificed to the altar of 'does this make the fans want to read the next chapter?'.... which, ironically, makes the fans not want to read the next chapter anymore, because people didn't get into this story because of big hits and dramatic scenes.

And each cliffhanger has built off each other, until we've gotten here, to the point where the story doesn't even make sense anymore, where the most common comment I see reading each chapter is, 'I don't understand what is happening, I guess I'll have to wait for the anime to make it make sense', or, even more damning, 'I don't care anymore'.

The heroes win, and the villains lose, not because of of the choices they've made, or how strong they are, but because reality itself bends over to make it so. And nobody wants to read that.

#ask #bnha critical #mha critical #AFO is being nerfed HARD #hori's inability to choose a message #the failure of the development of heroic society and corruption #give me logic not cliffhangers

[princess-of-the-corner]

One idea as a villain Chloe/Countess Golden Bat could face in the "To Bee a Bat" AU: Lock Up.

Lock Up was created as a one-off villain for Batman: The Animated series, and later got imported into the main Batman comics as a c-list supervillain.

His entire gimmick is that he feels Batman and the police are too soft on crime (and also hates "spineless liberals"), and thus decided that he's kidnap and torture criminals and anyone he believes enables them.

More recent comics have abandoned this in favor of making him generic muscle for other supervillains, as modern Batman isn't much better than Lock Up nowadays, and the writers kinda want to GLORIFY brutality and torture when used by a "tortured heroic manly man who's man enough to make the hard choices".

But given Chloe's own history, I can imagine fighting Lock Up would give her the chance to vent out some of her own frustrations.

(Plus, Marinette seeing Lock Up and facing his black and white view of the world, with him very explicitly being viewed as actively making the problem WORSE, would probably have her further questioning how she handled Chloe.)

Oh that could be Fun

#to bee a bat

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Lady C Tea YouTube 2/29/24 (a few nuggets paraphrased by me) by u/daisybeach23

Lady C Tea YouTube 2/29/24 (a few nuggets paraphrased by me) Greetings from Castle Goring, you’ll notice I am in black today draped in jewels. I am in mourning. One tear. Left eye. Go. Mourning for H. He lost his case. I am so distraught on behalf of H. And even more distraught on behalf of the nation. H is threating to appeal and it’s going to cost us even more money. Ok, let’s plunge right in.Lady C, can you please comment on the most recent news headline that Harry lost his bid for security. Will this ruling stand or be overturned? He is threatening to appeal it. He is so contentious and so vexatious. It is not only police protection he is fighting for. It is his status as a Prince, no matter how much he takes steps to be apart from the Royal Family. I would be very surprised if this decision is reversed. The decision is clear that all issues were considered with regards to Harry and the bottom line is Harry is not entitled to what Harry thinks he is entitled to. For example, Harry brought up his mother’s death. But Diana would have survived had she worn her seatbelt. Diana had private security in a foreign country. Harry has private security in a foreign country. The decision also stated that Harry’s attorneys had taken an inappropriate interpretation of the RAVEC policies. RAVEC makes decisions based on security assessments and the person’s impact to the country’s interests. Harry seems to think that because he was born a Prince, he is entitled to that kind of security. But his Aunt Anne and Uncle Edward were born the same and they only receive security when they are working. Why should Harry have it? On January 11, 2020, Sir Edward White (who Omid Scobie criticized as a while middle aged man) provided Harry a draft of the security process should he leave the Royal Family. The is evidence that Harry’s private secretary had multiple conversations with Sir Edward White. It was determined that Harry knew exactly what would happen. Harry has lost.Lady C, Harry has always been free to choose his behavior, but he is not free to chose the consequences. Regarding his claim that there was a failure to do a risk analysis and consider the impact an attack on him would have, I disagree. I think RAVEC concluded Harry is the biggest threat to the current monarch and heir and that an attack on Harry would be of no consequence at all. Sorry, this is the least brutal way I can think of to say this. Do you agree? I fully agree, but maybe not for this reason. LOL. I think basically this decision says that if an attack on Harry should occur, this still does not merit the level of security Harry wants. It couldn’t be simpler. Harry is now considered an ex-Royal living abroad making money. This case is a farce because Harry does get protection on a case by case basis. You’ll notice that when he left Clarence House the other day, there were no outriders.

#SaintMeghanMarkle #harry and meghan #meghan markle #prince harry #fucking grifters #Worldwide Privacy Tour #Instagram loving bitch wife #Backgrid #voetsek meghan #walmart wallis #markled #archewell #archewell foundation #megxit #duke and duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex #doria ragland #rent a royal #clevr #clevr blends #lemonada media #archetypes #archetypes with meghan #invictus #invictus games #Sussex #daisybeach23

[valyrou]

hi, i asked this to someone else but got ignored so- could you write a vance hopper x reader where the reader works at the grab n’ go and was best friends with vance (probably a secret mutual crush) but then vance gets kidnapped and the reader reminisces by the pinball machine (maybe happy ending where none of the kids got killed and the reader reunites with vance)

A/n: shame on the person that ignored you! (Jkjk) It’s such a good request!!

So we all know vance is a Hard Ass, so instead of ‚failing‘ to kill the grabber he actually did kill him ;)

Hurt to comfort Vance x Gn!Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, mention of injuries, cursing, typical Vance behavior (let me know if there’s anything else)

Here with you

The grab n‘ go store was always packed in the Summer times. You liked and hated it at the same time. You liked it because a lot of cash would fly in the register but hated it because sometimes some boys and girls tried hitting on you or started a fight. If you had to guess around this time of the year you would have to call the police at least 5 times.

The actual good thing was, that Vance was always around. He would always play with that pinball machine and sometimes you would sneak some snacks to him. He was a weird one because you couldn’t tell if he liked it or if he hated you sneaking snacks to him. He would often say „what the Fuck is this shit, you think I’m poor??!“ but he would still take it.

Over the time you came to realize that it was the nature of the curly haired boy to always seem tough and rude, so everytime he‘d curse at you, you took it as a thank you wrapped in insults. To your surprise the two of you somehow got close to each other.

Vance started to stay after the store had to close, or your shift ended and walk you home. You started to believe that he did it on purpose to get close to you, but when you brought it up to him he immediately got defensive and say stuff like „As if I’d want to get ‚close‘ to some freak like you! Dream on dickhead“ and storm off.

He didn’t talk to you for a week until you apologized for it. Nonetheless, you knew that something was up because every time a boy would try and hit on you, he‘d be there to fuck them up saying „they‘re just some fucking Bully, they just want to fuck with you idiot“ even tho you thought it was brutal and overprotective, it was somehow still sweet of him to care for you like that.

Until one sunny evening when you just got off of work and didn’t see Vance waiting for you Infront of the store. It was unusual since he would wait for you, but you just brushed it off thinking that he had something important to do. You walked home yourself and noticed a black van in the street. It creeped you out and you wanted to turn the other way and avoid that creepy van until you heard yelling coming from it.

You immediately knew whos voice that was and didn’t think twice. You ran in record time to that van and saw a struggling Vance trying to break free from some middle aged man. You looked around for a weapon but couldn’t find anything, so you decided to just throw yourself in the fight.

„LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU PERV!“ you screamed while running full speed at the stranger and tackling him in the side. The unknown man yelped but wasn’t affected to much and just kicked you in the guts making you fall to your knees coughing. Vance cocked his head back, hitting the kidnappers nose who then dropped him.

You scrumbled to your feet, Vance tried to get to you but was yanked back. The stranger sprayed something in his mouth as he tried to scream and you could see how Vance body fell limp in just mere seconds. Vance was roughly thrown in the back of the van and you tried to throw a punch at the middle aged man. He caught your fist and roughly twisted your arm „Fucking kids“ he swung and hit your face so hard that it knocked you out asap. He just dropped you on the pavement and drove off as quick as he could.

When you woke up you were at the hospital. Your memories were poor and all you could remember was Vance getting thrown in a van. You couldn’t remember where it happened, how the kidnapper looked like or what the van looked like. You had a really bad concussion and a sprained arm. You felt awful for not being able to help Vance..

You were advised to stay home and rest, but the thought of doing nothing was unbearable so you went to the only place you know you made good memories with. The grab n‘ go store.

You actually got the owner to make the pinball machine inaccessible, so Vance could play where he had left his Highscore at. If he ever came back.. the owner respected you a lot and even let you stay longer at the store. Even after closing time, you would sit on the floor next to the pinball machine and wait.. you didn’t know what you waited for.. maybe for Vance to show up? Maybe you just wanted to drown yourself in pity? You didn’t know anymore

Every passing hour you grew more anxious about him. You had to admit, Vance was a huge asshole, but he was your asshole. He was your protector, maybe not guardian angel but guardian devil for sure. If only you knew in what distress Vance was down in the basement. He thought the grabber did something to you.. something far more horrible than kidnapping.

Maybe the thought of not knowing if you were okay gave him the strength he needed to kill that kidnapping bastard. And he did. Oh Vance killed that perverted old man with a smirk on his face. He was alive, but that didn’t matter to him. What mattered to him was, if you were okay.

He always tried to be distant to you, but he just couldn’t help himself falling for you. When he saw you trying to save him back when he got kidnapped, that was when he finally admitted his feelings to himself..

You thought your heart stopped when the police reported that Vance hopper was found alive and well in a neighborhood not far from yours. You heard everything they said but couldn’t register it in your head, you just hurriedly threw on some shoes and ran to Vances house.

When he opened the door you froze up, taking all his features in. He had a bruise here and there and a few patched up wounds but he looked fine. Before he could even say a word, you jumped into his arms hugging him tight. You were sure he would try to push you away and throw some insulting things at you, but to your surprise he hugged you back in the most soft and gentle way you could have ever imagined.

Just after feeling his touch you couldn’t hold back anymore and every tear you had bravely held back the days he was gone flooded over your cheeks like a river, and he was there. Vance was there to comfort you without saying a word. Without making fun of your pathetic tears „Vance!“ you cried out, sobbing into his shoulder „I thought I lost you“ you felt as if your tears wouldn’t stop rolling down your face

„I‘m fine y/n… I‘m here with you“ he said. That was the first time he ever said your name and when he did, you couldn’t stop your face from flushing into a deep red „I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.. I tried I really did-“ you ranted but he shut you up by just pulling you tighter to his chest „just shut up.. I know you tried your best“ he said. It was weird hearing him sound so genuine.. so calm.

You didn’t say anything and just stood in his arms, embracing each other „I like you y/n“ that hit you unexpected „are you okay vance? Did you hit your head?“ you looked up to look him in the face but he just scoffed. He was about to let go of you, when you hold on tight „I‘m just kidding!“ you chuckled „I like you too“ you smiled sheepishly „good because it would have been fucking embarrassing if you didn’t“ he said. You both started chuckling. You were glad he was ok.. And he thought the same

#the black phone #the black phone x reader #headcanons #vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #hurt to comfort #tbp #the black phone fanfic #the black phone 2022 #the grabber #robin arellano #finney blake #brady hepner #Brady hepner x reader

[travosti]

It’s not easy for some queer/lgbt+ people to be able to go out and live the queer experience in person but what needs to be clear is that external queer spaces vs internal queer places are two different experiences inside our community, and those who live not having online discourse on Twitter or Tumblr over who’s more valid or what’s correct to identify as, most of the time, don’t care. I was so chronically online years ago that I got into silly debates that in the end never existed in real life situations. I ended up having constant hiatuses on Tumblr or Facebook because of how mentally draining it was to be fighting for situations that most of the time do not happen in person. Then I realized that there’s situations that needed more visibility of.

For instance, did you know trans masculine people in latin america have a higher chance of committing suicide before their 30s? One of the examples would be of a black Brazilian trans man, Demétrio Campos, was an activist who committed suicide on May 16th of 2020, because of social injustice towards the lack of opportunities he had from being black and transgender, many times also denying mental health services towards his well being.

Did you know that Argentina is the only country in the continent that has won the legalization to having a non binary ID? Being the first country to legalize this in all of LATAM.

Did you know that just a few months ago, a trans man named Estéfano González , was wrongfully sent to jail because he defended himself from being murdered in the streets with his girlfriend while the attacker kept shouting transphobic AND lesbophobic comments towards him even though he does not identify as lesbian?

Did you know there is no law in Chile that protects trans people who have the right to labor?

Did you know that Tehuel de la Torre, a trans masc in Argentina, was forcefully disappeared after he went to a job interview in 2021, and to this day the police hasn’t done proper investigations and closed the case saying he passed away when there is no body to be found?

And in another occasion, a few years ago another trans masc (Santiago Cancinos), again, in Argentina, was made to be off the radar, the police not helping this trans male whatsoever, just to find out approx 4 years later that the remaining parts of his body was found deep in a hole just a few meters away from his home?

Two Peruvian trans men went to celebrate their honey moon In Bali this year, both were detained by security airport, because of “supposedly having illegal substances in their luggages”. They were brutally beat up in their cells, to the point one of them died because of the attacks. Leaving the newly wed male, becoming a widowed individual in just short time.

This is what’s happening in Latin America towards trans mascs and men but the internet is so focused in the experiences of trans mascs in countries like the USA, or countries that are in Europe. The trans experience, in this case trans masc experience, is NOT the same in every country. As a trans masc living in Chile, it’s very frustrating to see that many comrades typing from their homes, in a first world country, dare to criticize our experiences saying that our privilege is the same as theirs. I invite you to acknowledge our pain and re-think that not everything is centered around countries that is socially looked as more important than others. Please take your time translating the articles I cited, because my job informing is sufficient. I’m not debating with someone that invalidates trans experiences from my continent. Thank you, and you’re welcome from your angry sudaca.

The suicide of Demétrio Campos (Brasil): https://www.hypeness.com.br/2020/06/mae-de-demetrio-campos-fala-como-a-alegria-de-viver-do-filho-foi-abreviada-pelo-racismo-e-transfobia/

Legalization of the non binary identification in Argentina: https://www.hrw.org/news/2021/07/22/argentina-recognizes-non-binary-identities

The wrongful incarceration of Estéfano González (Chile):

https://www.eldesconcierto.cl/reportajes/2022/06/27/el-caso-de-estefano-el-joven-trans-encarcelado-por-homicidio-y-que-clama-legitima-defensa.html/amp/

No law that protects trans people from working in private establishments in Chile: https://www.latercera.com/paula/inclusion-laboral-trans-una-deuda-pendiente/?outputType=amp

The disappearance of Tehuel de la Torre (Argentina): https://agenciapresentes.org/2022/02/11/donde-esta-tehuel-a-11-meses-de-su-desaparicion-las-organizaciones-reclaman-justicia/

The disappearance of Santiago Cancinos (Argentina):

https://www.infobae.com/sociedad/policiales/2021/07/01/que-revelaron-las-pericias-al-cuerpo-de-santiago-cancinos-el-adolescente-trans-desaparecido-hace-4-anos-en-salta/?outputType=amp-type

The murder of Rodrigo Ventocilla and mourning husband, Sebastián Marallano (Perú): https://www.bbc.com/mundo/noticias-internacional-62683218

#tw suicide #tw murder #transphobia #chile #brasil #Argentina #perú #demétrio campos #tehuel de la torre #santiago cancinos #estéfano gonzález #rodrigo ventocilla #sebastián marallano #carnet no binarie #cupo laboral trans

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hey i know a lot of fics and posts make Hobie out to be a cool chill laid back kinda guy but uhhh

Need i remind you homeboy also lived/lives under a fascist regime and police state.

That has an emotional effect!

Like he’s a black man who fights with cops head on routinely.

He probably knows police brutality more than anyone and that can fuck anyone up

You can’t tell me that doesn’t have an effect and i feel like that’s a character trait that’s REALLY overlooked in Hobie. Which sucks because his punk ideology and activism is one of the most interesting things about him YA’LL

Can we PLEASE acknowledge the trauma of the black guy whose literal job is to put fascists to sleep

Can we PLEASE talk about how living under a police state mentally effects Hobie Brown and how he’d carry that trauma PLEASE

He’s not just some punk cool chill big brother he’s also a black kid growing up under a police state who puts on a mask every night to fight for his right to exist as he is DO YOU REALIZE HOW POWERFUL THAT IS - IT’S THE REASON HE DOES EVERYTHING HE DOES

#IT’S LITERALLY THE REASON HE HELPS MILES #PLEASE Y’ALL ITS CENTRAL TO HIS CHARACTER #Hobie brown #atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #marvel #spider man #spider punk #spiderpunk

[seriesxwriting]

In his arms

Pairing- Robby Keane and you

Warnings- fighting with use of a knife, kissing, a robbery and swearing.

Series- cobra Kai!!

Summary- you and your boyfriend Robbie Keene are in the middle of an argument but when your house is Robbed by an armed man you only want Robbie. You only feel safe with Robbie.

—💕—

“I’m not arguing anymore Robbie! I’m done with this you need to grow up” my voice rose with clear anger and I ripped the phone from my ear ending it on my boyfriend. The name flashed off the screen with all the hearts surrounding it vanishing too. I blinked at the white home screen trying to figure out what I do to keep my self busy. Because if I didn’t I’d cry, and if I cried I was weak.

Everyone in the valley did karate at this point they were all strong, apart from me. I hated violence I was never very good at it my self.

Before him, it turned me away almost immediately from a boy. I didn’t ever think I’d find the one.

But I met Robbie through the violence he was engaged in at the mall that thursday morning.

He was running, clearing chasing someone when the clumsy yet handsome boy ran straight into me, knocking us both brutally to the ground.

Fighting was usually a massive turn off for me but it looked so good on Robbie Keene. It didn’t take us long to fall absolutely in love with each other.

That was almost two years ago, fights like this saddened me yes. But didn’t worry me anymore. Not like most people. We would work it out tomorrow or the day after that.

But now I had to distract my self from dwelling on it. My sad eyes scanned my room for something to do away from my phone. It was then, a loud heart-stopping crash came from my kitchen bounced off my walls. Usually I’d ignore it due to my loud family, but I was home alone.

Someone else was here.

Though the hairs all stood up like soldiers and my blood ran cold like a river I managed to slide out my covers onto the smooth polished wooden planks I had on my floor. More crashed came like an animal was in my house. My feet tiptoed my self across the room trying to close as much space between me and the door as possible.

I clung onto it like it was a Roman shield. Like this door would protect me. I crouched down peeling back the door and squinting through the crack checking the coast was clear. It was. Silently the door was pulled open to its limit and I like a ninja slid across the walls to the stairs.

Creeping down the fluffy carpet i peep round the wall for any sign of movement. My eyes widened with fear as my heart punched my chest again and again. Breathing became hard as I crawled back up the steps making my way back to Safety.

Someone was trying to rob my home. Wearing all black with a ski mask on hiding his face. What amplified my fear was the stainless steal piece in his gloved hand. I desperately clambered onto my bed to find my phone between all the silk sheets. Generally not calling the police but my boyfriend for help.

There’s no place I felt safer than in his arms.

“Thought you where done talking to me” he asked with snide. I gulped ignoring the argument. “Robbie there’s someone in my house” I whispered climbing back down and leaning up against the door. “What?” His tone changed dangerously “theres someone in my house and they have a knife” the first tear of the night did a rolly polly down my cheek as my eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m coming right now! Where are you” he demanded making loud clashes dropping what ever he was doing. “In my bedroom- I think he’s a thief Robbie” “don’t worry he will give us answers, I need you to stay up there and lock the door don’t make a sound okay” Robbie’s voice had no hint of patients and I didn’t want to do anything other than that.

My hand reached to my golden lock above my head and I twisted it while biting down on my teeth. “Done” i told him quietly. The bottom stair creaked when someone stood on it, the familiar sound filled the house. “I love you Robbie” I sniffed feeling my heart beat pick up again.

“Don’t do that- I’m five minutes away just hold on for me okay” he breathed panicked. Just like that my phone died in my hands before I could answer. “shit- are you serious” I whispered trying to tap it back on. I eyed up my charger on the other side of the room. But before I could reach for it my ears pricked up hearing the man get to the top of the stairs.

My body froze and I didn’t want to move towards the charger anymore. All I could do was listen to the hard boots smash against the floor as he made his way down the corridor. The handle above my head turned but the door couldn’t open. The man tried again this time pushing against it. I bit down on my lip hard. nails digging into my legs.

All of a sudden I heard a smack.

——

Robbie smashed the man’s head on the door giving him a bloody and broken nose. The knife in his hand dropped to the floor spiralling away from the two. “Who the fuck are you” Robbie’s eyes slimmed trying to work out who it was through the ski mask but the man lunged for him. Robbie blocked two punches and held his arm before kneeing him in the side and then kicking his back.

The man fell to the floor and Robbie flipped him over going to punch. The robber blocked it and pushed Robbie off him trying to crawl to the knife. Robbie kicked his face making the man hit the wall with power. “Come on them big man, get up” he panted looking at the robber hold his croocked nose. He slowly stood up and Robbie fell back into the stance enjoying the fight too much.

“I don’t want to hurt you kid” the man put his hands up, but Robbie just laughed hysterically. “Should have thought about that before you tried to rob my girlfriends house” he didn’t back down from the stance. The man chuckled and then tried to surprise Robbie with another punch. The brunette boy held his arm attacking the shoulders and snapping the arm. The man winced in pain but Robbie wasn’t finished.

He kicked his back allowing the man to fall to the ground. His hand reached out for the knife but my boyfriend stamped on it before bending down and replacing his foot with his knee. The guy screamed out by Robbie ignored it. His hand now reached out and pulled the mask off the man’s ugly face. “I’ve seen you around- just a dirty scumbag” Robbie grabbed his hair and smashed the man’s face into the ground finally knocking him out.

He stood up backing away watched his work for a second before turning to my room panting. He knocked on the door leaning against it.

——

“Y/n? You in there is okay to come out now” he breathed slowly. I immediately stood up and unlocked the door. With no hesitation I ripped it open and flung my arms around my boyfriends neck. He giggled showering my head with kissing “this beats normal making up after an argument” he whispered holding me tightly. “Thank you Robbie” I whispered eyeing the body over his shoulder.

“Don’t look at him” he told me brushing my face softly. “We should call the police” he lead me into my room closing the door to. “I’m sorry for shouting at you that wasn’t necessary” “I can’t even remember what the argument was about y/n” he shook his head not caring. “I’m always here for you even if we’re arguing love”.

At this I grabbed his beautiful face pulling it swiftly towards mine. It was the only thing that could have stopped me from smiling at this point. He knew exactly what to say to me that just made me fall even harder for him every day. The brunette boy held my face gently as we both moved in passionate sync.

“Anything for you y/n” he told me under his breath kissing my nose.

—💕—

Masterlist- for more like this!

#netflix #fyp #imagines #writers on tumblr #writing #short storys #cobra kai x y/n #cobra kai x you #cobra kai s5 #cobra kai s4 #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai series #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai fanfic #fighting #cobra kai fic #cobra kai season 5 #no mercy #cobra kai netflix #robbie Keene #cobra Kai robbie #cobra kai edit

[trrickytickle]

//collab with the notorious @tickle-beans - this one is a big boy!!//

History often repeats itself.

Once again, the Anti-Life Equation was within the grasp of Darkseid's iron fist. The Unity was upon Earth. Darkseid's forces had once again managed to get their hands on two out of three Mother Boxes, and Apokolips' chaos was once again leaking around Earth like a deadly oil spill, which had already engulfed a quarter of the planet with the carnage caused by Darkseid and his two best lieutenants- DeSaad, and with him the formidable Granny Goodness leading her flurry of Female Furies and the armies of Parademons that came with. The Blue Planet was no New Genesis- but the air was rife with disparity and darkness.

But just as history would have it, metahumans- this time led by a sole Kryptonian- would come to the rescue.

The Justice League. A name respected and idolized by many civilians for saving the planet time and time again when it all seemed helpless. On the smoggy streets of Gotham City, which were less rampant with the duochrome flashes of police sirens and outrageous criminal masterminds, lights flickered and hellish red aviator lenses glowed faintly. The usual reign of terror by any such member of the Caped Crusader's rouge's gallery was replaced by the anguished feral hisses of shrinking piles of Parademons swooping in from all directions- drifting past the Iceberg Lounge, dive-bombing down from Wayne Manor, and from behind the clock tower.

There was a bloody struggle in the melancholy heart of Gotham. Diana, with a swish of her lasso, caught a Parademon by the neck, and with the strength of the gods, slammed it head-first onto the tar-black street.

"Behind you!" she warned. Clark flew out of the way and swiveled, only for yet another Apokoliptian barrage to surround him, the Parademons pouncing and snarling at him like wildcats, one clawing at his cape and attempting to overpower him, to no avail. As quickly as he was cornered, the Man of Steel squinted, his red-hot laser vision searing through each and every one of their broken and bruised hides, which were branded with a flash of red light, which disintegrated them into fine dust of pure destruction. While the ash fell to the ground, Barry corralled the Parademons on land, grunting in exertion.

"Got ya guys covered!" he yelled, as the horde of hungry husks' gazes followed him and attempted to catch up, only to be sliced by the speed of sound, their reconstructed constructs falling to bits down to the ground at the same speed as Victor's gatling-fire of plasma, which wiped out the last of the teeming mass of Parademons led by Granny Goodness in Gotham with the help of the swift and sudden STAB of Arthur's trident and his quick-witted waterboarding of a row of demons, who fought with brutal struggle. Looming over the scattered bodies of Parademons along the floor of the city, the Justice League stood, scarred and determined, and ready to move on and stop the plan that they had failed to- the one that would prevent the inevitable end of Superman- and in turn, them. The Knightmare, as Bruce called it. It was what would split their group apart if Darkseid's forces were to conquer.

"Quick, quick, we gotta go!!" Barry urged, running past before the sound of suffering lurches could reach his ears. Another horde. Though they looked weak and sickly, they were another horde no less, though more comparable to the lowly Hunger Dogs, but still without conscience. They seemed… harmless- they weren't armed as they'd usually be- but they were mangled, more or less- defective traits like extra arms and blunt, though still long claws. Still, they were that Apokoliptian, alien brand of horrifying- unsettling for the Justice League, but instilled an uncanny-valley fear in the average civilian's eyes.

"There's more." Bruce scowled. The Justice League swiveled, preparing for a fight that seemed like more of an obstacle, as the (surprisingly fast) Parademons lunged and sprinted at the group with a feverous hunger for agony. He readied his Batarangs, fixing his gaze on one, causing it to bleed out from its scalp- significantly softer, likewise with its teeth and claws. One-hit kill. A freeze breath barrier was set by Clark to placate them, but this was quickly crossed by the agile army. This fight was proving harder. With ease, Diana readied her lasso, drawing it towards one Parademon in the middle- but before she could move a single muscle, they pounced. One came after another, and with another were two more. No big deal. Diana thought. This'll be nothing compared to the Furies.

But as soon as one's claw sunk into the space between her rib and stomach, she winced. Not in pain, however. A weakness she had failed to hide. And with another attempted scratch, Diana screamed- more of a squeal, but a scream nonetheless. The demons, encouraged by the feeling that was new, different, but unmistakably suffering, kept going. Their multiple claws ravaged her, keeping in mind different areas that would cause her to shriek or heave or even cackle- out of force- at different volumes.

"What's-" Cyborg, shocked from shooting off the horde, exclaimed.

She unhanded the Lasso of Truth, but when one got its hands on it, her hands were kept above her head, and she exclaimed.

"kH-AAAH-hhUH-huhhuhAaah- ee-Ahaha-I cch-Ha! I- It tickles! hh-hahh-hI'm ticklish!" Diana screamed. Hoist by her own petard, she was compelled to tell the truth- no matter how embarrassing for the strong Amazonian. "Please, it tickles!" Cyborg, immune to the scraping sensation, shot a few away, but they just kept coming after her- as if embarrassingly uttering just HOW and WHERE she was ticklish ("Not there! No, not my tummy! Please! No, no, no- just- don't tickle my aHAHA-ampihits!) against her will wasn't enough. Like an impenetrable fortress, the Parademons were flowing in like a flock of seagulls from Palmera City next over, cybernetic neon hues barely visible from Gotham's gloom.

"I can't take it there! Puhh-hehah-hhAH, no, no, no, not the belly agHAHAIN!"

Clark yelled out. "Diana! I-" He dove down, taken aback by her squealing giggles and aggressive thrashing as the Parademons attempted to tear at her by biting into her ribs with their cartilage teeth, and scraping at her vulnerable and toned stomach with their tactical claws. They licked their lips at her specific screaming and squeals when certain spots were hit, and as soon as they noticed the Kryptonian, one pounced at his torso. "You have to hold out, I'm surrounded!" The same Parademon chomped at his left side, causing his legs to jolt up and throw it into the air with superhuman strength to no avail. It flew back, grabbing his arms while more merciless creatures took his legs, stretching out his upper body for Parademons to pounce, and that they did. They snarled and hissed, moving their claws around in a drunken haze of violently enacted laughter from his sides up to his ribs and back down. A blow to the belly also proved incredibly effective, reducing the Man of Steel's dexterity to a state of incapacity.

/Continued in Part 2/

#tickling #tickle community #t-word #tfb community #tickle fic #tickle #tword #ler

[lovekz]

infatuated (4)

syn ->  izana kurokawa is infatuated with two things. the adrenaline from illegal racing and getting into fights. you might become a third.

beware of... slight police brutality, izana catches you with your pants down (literally), and fluff

“izana kurokawa.” echoed throughout the cell. 

izana looked up from his game of shogi with one of the cell mates, squinting just a bit.

“you’ve been released.” the guard grumbled, unlocking the door and holding it open for him.

izana squinted even more, confused as hell. it’s only been a few days. he was about to get out already?

“if you won’t take it, i will kurokawa.” one of the guys commented, shooting him a wolfish grin. 

izana laughed, lifting himself from his seat and heading out of the cell. “yeah.. maybe next time.” izana replied smoothly, waving goodbye.

he hadn’t even known who those guys were. he just knew they shared a cell for a short while.

“you’re lucky someone had the heart to bail you out. should’ve kept you for longer.” the guard muttered, watching the younger man place his hands behind his head.

it was true. izana could’ve been in jail or accused of so many things that he wouldn’t be able to get out.

lucky for him though, his adoptive siblings were left with a lawyer shiniciro insisted they shared with him.

so they did, helping him get out of every situation he was in. 

however, it never included anything with bail. so who the hell could it have been?

was it you? he did fight for you after all. but you wouldn’t have been dumb enough to bail him out.

you were in school, almost all your money went towards that if not your living space.

“if that’s your girl, you need to stay outta here. she could be mine in a few minutes.” the guard taunted as they stepped out the hall.

izana looked for you, but didn’t see you. however, he seen a blond woman he declared dead to him.

“trust me. you can have the bitch.” izana muttered, walking straight passed her.

he wanted nothing to do with her. besides, who the hell beats their face to come pick up their delinquent ‘son’ from jail?

“izana!” the woman called out, chasing after izana with slight speed. 

izana ignored her, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around to figure out his surroundings once more.

if he takes a left turn and cut through the alley, he’ll be able to catch the next bus to mikey’s house.

izana nodded to himself, beginning to follow through with his plan. being outside in broad daylight with fucked up clothes wasn’t a good look.

the back of his shirt was grabbed harshly, making him halt in his steps and not throw the person over.

he knew exactly who it was.

“is that anyway to treat your mother?” karen huffed, looking up at the younger male.

“my mother is dead, remember?” izana retorted, shrugging her off him and glaring down at her.

she sighed, looking away in shame. izana nodded, beginning to walk away again.

karen didn’t bother trying to follow him after that again.

~

when izana got to mikey’s house and rang the doorbell, he realized no one was home.

he sighed, deciding to take that hour and 30 minute walk all the way to his gated community.

curse manjiro for not wanting to live near or inside the gated community.

so he walked for an hour and 45 minutes, walking slower than he probably should have.

once izana walked into his house, using the spare key to get in. he yawned, kicked his shoes off and walked upstairs. 

his siblings will find out he’s home sooner or later.

after his shower and a nap, of course.

izana hummed, stripping himself of his shirt and opening his bathroom door.

what he wasn’t expecting, was to find you in the full mirror, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of black panties.

his eyes widen, the same way yours did.

“i-izana!” you yelled in surprised, grabbing the spare towel and wrapping it around your waist.

“..what are you doing here?” izana asked, crossing his arms teasingly as he smiled at you.

“i- uhm- your siblings. suggested i waited for you to get out here.” you replied, pushing a hair away from your face slightly.

izana nodded, looking you up and down. the more he looked at you, the more he noticed.

you had his hair tie on your wrist, his spare gray towel around your waist, his favorite shirt on, and with one peak in his room, he came to a conclusion.

you slept in his bed as well.

“wow. it’s almost like you live here.” izana laughed a bit, looking you up and down once more.

“not really. i’ve been sleeping in the guest room and wearing emma’s clothes.” you shrugged, wrapping the towel around your waist properly and looking at him.

oh? the guest room? emma’s clothes? izana could only guess that was the lie emma fed you to ensure you were comfy.

though he didn’t mind.

“guest room? sweets, you’ve been sleeping in my bed.” izana laughed quietly, shaking his head.

your eyes widened as you stood there like a deer in headlights.

you were sleeping in izana’s room? which meant the clothes you were wearing were definitely his too.

“i am so sorry. you can have your shirt back-” “no don’t.” izana cut you off, holding his hand up with a smile.

“i like it on you. keep it.” izana said, putting his hands in his pockets.

you nodded, looking down at the shirt then back at him, smiling.

“now if you don’t mind, i’d like to shower.” izana chuckled, walking further into the bathroom and flicking your ear.

you nodded, letting him open the door to his bedroom for you and walking in.

izana doesn’t know what to do with you,

~

when izana walked into the room with a towel around his waist, he was met with you laying in the middle of the bed on your tummy.

you were watching something on youtube.

the only thing he could really focus on, was the silhouette of your body. more importantly, your ass and the round flesh.

but he shrugged it off, dropping his towel and quickly slipping on his underwear to spare your eyes if you turned around.

izana put on basketball shorts and climbed into his bed, gaining your focus rather quickly.

“is this okay?” izana asked quietly, laying just a bit away from you and grabbing some covers.

you nodded with a smile, moving over to give him some space (though his bed was big as hell)

he nodded along with you, rolling onto his back and moving the blanket down to his waist.

there, you had began to focus on the scratches and bruises on his chest. they looked rather nasty.

“is that.. from that night?” you asked quietly, sitting up and running a finger over it softly.

izana nodded, immediately knowing what you were talking about.

the night he had beaten the absolute shit out of your boyfriend because he’d hurt you in front of him.

“that happened that night too?” izana asked, tapping your broken wrist softly and looking in your eyes.

you nodded, frowning at the memory of it. you were crying so hard when it happened.

“did... tetta give these to you?” you asked shortly, looking up at him and frowning just a bit.

he shook his head, leaning further into his pillow. “from the police. when they slammed me to the floor and the car.” izana muttered.

you could tell he’d rather not speak about the fact that the police were more brutal towards him than kisaki.

“take a nap with me.” izana stated, quickly changing the topic to take your mind off him.

you looked up at him with a questioning look. “you should take care of these. they look nasty.” you sighed, crossing your arms.

“yeah well, nap with me first. then we can take care of them together.” izana hummed, looking up at you.

after thinking for a bit, you nodded and laid next to him smiling.

“promise?” you asked, holding your pinky out to him with a small laugh.

izana looked at you, before chuckling and linking his finger with yours.

a promise is a promise. a promise with you is something he isn’t sure he can break.

tagss ~ @galactict3a​ 

#izana x reader #izana kurokawa #tokyo revengers izana #izana x you #izana fluff #tr izana #Tokyo Revengers #tokyo rev x you

[noneedtofearorhope]

January 8, 2024

Minneapolis, MN — In a historic ruling, Hennepin County Judge William Koch vacated Marvin Haynes’ murder conviction, dismissed his charges with prejudice, and ordered his release from prison where he was sentenced to serve life. Haynes walked out of MCF-Stillwater as an exonerated man into the loving arms of his family and supporters on Dec. 11, 2023.

Marvin Haynes was 16 years old when he was framed for murder by the Minneapolis Police and Hennepin County Attorney’s Office. Haynes’ wrongful conviction was supervised by former Hennepin County Attorney Amy Klobuchar and upheld by the Minnesota Supreme Court years later in an appeal.

After a Petition for Post-Conviction Relief was filed and evidentiary hearings were held in November 2023, Hennepin County Attorney Mary Moriarty and Judge Koch agreed to vacate Haynes’ conviction. The judge ruled that Haynes’ due process was denied because his conviction relied on “constitutionally improper” eyewitness evidence.

Read Unicorn Riot’s Investigative Series on The Case of Marvin Haynes and watch our film: Part One – Part Two – Part Three – Part Four – The Film – Further Reporting

Proclaiming his innocence since being arrested in May 2004, Haynes remained hopeful his truth would be heard. Along with his sisters, led by Marvina, and his family and advocates, the fight for Marvin’s freedom never ceased despite falling on deaf ears for nearly two decades.

The Great North Innocence Project (GNIP) took up Haynes’ case in late 2022. Their legal team and staff found new evidence of coerced and false testimony along with faulty police procedures. An expert reviewed the suspect line-up techniques and witness processes applied by the police. Witnesses signed affidavits recanting previous testimony as well as Haynes’ family swearing he was at home sleeping at the time of the murder. Based on these findings, GNIP submitted an application of exoneration to Minnesota’s Conviction Review Unit (CRU), which they helped create, in December 2022.

GNIP attorneys and staff then took the fight for Haynes’ freedom to the court itself. They filed a Petition for Post-Conviction Relief in the District Court of Minnesota in June 2023 which ultimately led to Haynes’ vindication.

[...]

GNIP lawyers were able to get patched through to Haynes in Stillwater prison on Dec. 6 to tell him over the phone on his 36th birthday that his conviction was soon to be vacated and he would be a free man. “That was the best birthday present I ever received,” said Marvin.

[...]

Dozens of other Black men, who were youth in the 2000s, have been calling out what they deem their own wrongful convictions. “Like many Black boys at the time, our criminal legal system too easily wrote [Haynes] off, failed to protect his rights and sent him to prison,” said Moriarty at the press conference.

During the reign of Hennepin County Attorney’s Mike Freeman and Amy Klobuchar, “the state prisons became the Blackest places in [Minnesota’s population],” said Michelle Gross to Unicorn Riot, the President of Communities United Against Police Brutality. “The prison population of people of color increased by over 300% during that time period.”

In a similar case to Haynes, however two years apart, Myon Burrell was wrongfully convicted of a Minneapolis murder and sentenced to life in prison before he was able to get his sentence commuted and released from prison after pressure from the community during Klobuchar’s run for presidency in December 2020.

Many other families have been pushing the names of other prominent inmates like Phillip Vance, Deaunteze Bobo and Cornelius Jackson, to name a few, who also proclaim their innocence.

[...]

Summary of Marvin Haynes’ Case

Marvin Haynes was accused of robbing a flower shop in North Minneapolis and fatally shooting 55-year-old Harry “Randy” Sherer in May 2004. He was charged with assault and murder despite no physical evidence linking him to the crime. Haynes was found guilty by a jury in a 2005 trial.

Proclaiming innocence after the verdict, Haynes’ exhorted “I didn’t kill that man.” Haynes was sentenced to life in prison. Haynes’ attempt for a new trial was then denied and his legal team filed an appeal which was also denied in July 2006 by then Hennepin County Attorney Amy Klobuchar. Finally, in January 2007, the Minnesota Supreme Court upheld his conviction and life sentence as Justice Lorie Skjerven Gildea found no abuses by the state or district court in Haynes’ prosecution.

[...]

Haynes also has an ongoing civil suit alleging Hennepin County Attorney’s Office and Minneapolis Police withheld documents and information they’re compelled to provide from the Minnesota Government Data Practices Act. A donation page has been created to help Haynes get back on his feet.

#Marvin Haynes #Amy Klobuchar #acab #fttp #minneapolis #unicorn riot

[cyb3rscoups]

The Glory AU (3)

Wrote this while listening to the most high note packed bubblegum kpop thats ever existed.

Wanna be tagged? LMK in the comments <3

Other parts of 'The Glory'

Attuma relentlessly taps his foot, creating a redundant knocking sound against the floor of M'Baku's office. He hated having to come there. The police station was too familiar to him and his early years.

Before he discovered the fight club, he took the act of punching people in the face to the streets where he was caught more than a dozen times giving his comrades black eyes and broken ribs. By the time he was 20, he was an overly familiar face to the holding cells and handcuffs. He never had any charges only thanks to Namor and the money he kept to hush people up.

But now, he only came there to prod Chief M'Baku into 'accidentally' wiping his juvenile record so he could start from scratch in a way.

"Brother is director over one of the biggest and best hospitals in the country. Your best friend is chief of police. And you...do what? What do you do, Attuma?"

"I gave you that split lip and tattered ego."

"Your mother must be so fucking proud." M'Baku swiped his tongue over the bandaged cut mindlessly before going back to his computer. "And obviously, this woman isn't an imbecile like you. All she's got is a police report from like 2009 and she's your age so...16 years old?"

"What the hell did she do at 16?" Attuma, jumped up and rounded the oak desk, leaning over M'Baku's shoulder to take a look for himself.

"Not what she did. Some one brought her to the station because of some pretty nasty bruises and shit she had but she didn't say a word when asked what happened."

Attuma's jaw ticked as he squinted at the report. "Move." He started to push M'Baku out of the chair gratingly until the man gave in from a grunt and stood over him while he took the seat.

He must've scrolled through the same information for at least five minutes before he brought a brutal fist down on the keyboard in anger. His chest heaved as his striking glare shifted to M'Baku who only rolled his eyes.

"Don't fucking go there, Attuma. It's not my fault she doesn't have a record!"

Attuma's temper was nothing new. He had a big tendency to go overboard and if things didn't go his way, he never thought with the morality in his head. For example, the only reason he knew the little information he just got about Okoye was because he stole the glass she held from the bar and had M'Baku scan it for her fingerprints.

Now that it seemed his delusional efforts were in vain, morality was out the window and run all the way down the street.

"You really gonna make me punch it out of you? So fucking childish sometimes." M'Baku grumbled and started to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. "Bring it on, kid."

Attuma had a hint of a smirk before he swung at his friend, only being met with a blow to his stomach, making him double over and groan.

"Fuck!" He held to the desk. "Alright shit! I'm cool!"

"Good. Now get the fuck out of here."

------

Everett Ross. It seemed that Valentina got her highschool wish. She married well and Everett was quite high up in the social hierarchy. Now, whether he earned his spot or bought it was up for heavy debate with him. Nevertheless, Valentina made sure to marry him quickly and loudly so she could maintain her status.

They were the perfect family; Valentina, Everett, and their five year old girl, Harlow. One that Okoye hoped that they had raised well. She needed to be perfect and pliable for the cause.

She found the prestigious private school that they had enrolled Harlow in and promptly black mailed the principal into a job. Now, she was head teacher of the adorable kindergarten class.

"Good morning, kiddos." Okoye smiled as she leaned against the wood of her desk.

"Good morning, Miss Okoye." They beamed back in perfect unison, fidgeting and giggling in their seats.

"Who would like to tell me what they did this weekend?"

Instantly, the tiny hands shot up as the stories of the weekend began to crowd their brains and threatened to bleed through their eyes if they did not get a chance to speak.

"Miranda! Let's start with you." Okoye pointed to the brunette sitting a few chairs to her left and the girl squealed in excitement.

"Ooh Mommy and Daddy and me went shopping! I got a build-a-bear!" The girl gleamed with happiness as her feet swept the floor from her forceful kicking.

"That's beautiful! Dillon, how about you?"

The boy stood up sending his chair back with a squeak as he began his recall of memories. "I went fishing with my Uncle!"

"Ooh how many fish did you catch?" Okoye began to inquire.

"Two! But we let them back out when we were finished." Dillon shrugged as he dragged his seat back to his desk and plopped into it.

"That is great, Dillon. It is very important to not interrupt the environment and let nature do its job."

The kids hung to her every word with mouths agape and sparkling eyes of wonder. Suddenly, Harlow's hand went up and she waved it like a fish out of water before Okoye acknowledged it.

"Yes Harlow?"

"What did you do over the weekend, Miss Okoye?"

Okoye shrugged. "I visited some old friends from when I went to school."

It was true. The alumni awards were held just the Saturday before and Okoye had the pleasure of facing her old peers again. It was almost satisfying as they didn't even recognize their dearest Koko at first, greeting her as if they had never met before.

"Oh no. This won't do." She sucked her teeth at the trio, standing in the same spots as if they hadn't moved an inch since 2009. "You can't forget me. It won't be any fun if you don't remember me."

"Excuse me?" Valentina's tone had darkened as a tilt of her head gave away her annoyance at Okoye's arrogance.

While, the other alumni of Fredrick High had gathered by the long table of food and drinks as the interaction went on. It was almost an illusion of sorts. To the isolated group, it was like they were the only ones there but they mustn't forget, this time, there's an audience.

"Don't be coy, Val. It's me, Okoye."

Okoye could've watched the color drain from their expressions a thousand times and it never would've gotten old. "Hang on a minute. Okoye was the one that died right?" W'Kabi mumbled to Erik who rolled his eyes at the clueless man.

"No you idiot. Aneka died. Koko dropped out." Erik sneered.

"Ah!" The light bulb over the poor man's head flickered until it shone in recognition, "Now I remember. I had a lot of fun with you, Koko." He chuckled.

Valentina scoffed as she stepped to Okoye. "You've grown up." She smirked.

"You've grown old." Okoye feigned a smile. "How's your husband and kid? Bet you're the best housewife."

An audible laugh from her then and a look of pure disbelief at her words. "Bold too! You see this Erik?"

"Mhmm." Erik smiled as Valentina continued to get closer to Okoye, allowing her stiletto heels to meet her sneakers.

"You listen here, girl." She leaned into her with piercing eyes. "You were a loser then. You are a loser now."

"Who me?" Okoye doubled over in exaggerated laughter as the other looked on, half amused and quite convinced they were losing their minds. Once, her laughter died down, she sighed. "I'd watch what you say to me considering I have sweet little Harlow right under my thumb."

Again, Valentina went white as a ghost. "What about my kid?"

"The kid that I teach everyday? Tell stories to? Make sure she learns her right from her fucking left. That kid?" Her smile only grew as Valentina pigmented red with anger and fear.

"You stay away from my child, Okoye." She growled out, venom spitting from her lips

"Why? You must be scared. Hm...maybe I should enlighten her about who her mother really is. Show her the things you showed me."

"You crazy bitch!" Valentina screeched and Erik moved to hold her arms, soothing her spilling anger as he leaned into her ear

"Val...They're watching."

Surely enough, the scene had been witness by their class as they muttered their suspicions among themselves.

"Fuck who's watching." She snatched her arms from Erik's hands, glaring at him to retreat before sneering at Okoye. "I will kill you, Okoye. Just like I should've back then." She muttered.

"Yeah you should've. But you didn't, so, let me tell you what to prepare for since you let me live and sit in my pain..." Okoye raised her hands, landing them on Valentina's shoulders and swiping away the dust on her jacket before tugging at it so they were close enough for her to whisper, "Hell on earth, bitch. And trust me, I'll make sure it burns."

With a laugh, she shoved Valentina back hard enough for her to stumble and lose her footing. "I'll see you around, Val!"

@pilesofpillows @loeysaeri @hottie-hotch @xblackreader @faatxma

#alex livinalli #attuma #attoye #attuma x okoye #attoye fanfic #black panther #wakanda forever #danai gurira #mcu okoye #okoye x attuma #the glory #kdrama #attoye fluff #dark!attuma #dark!okoye #dark!attoye #we love a good revenge plot