#thread the needle chapter 10

[the-kr8tor]

Parallel Cut

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is taller than r though) , TW violence, CW injury, CW food mention, suggestive content.

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Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 10 >>> EPILOGUE

You walk through aunt Janet's shop, eyes adjusting to the lights. The smell of the store wafts through your senses, the old carpet smell, rows and rows of fabric displayed on the shelves smelling of chemicals and dye. There's a faint smell of leather lingering in the air, reminding you of Hobie. Trainers squeak briefly on the floor, waking you up from your zombie like trance.

When did you even get here?

Your mind has been noisy since yesterday, you've mostly been on autopilot, muscle memory guiding you to your destination. Rubbing your tired eyes, barely sleeping last night, you had the urge to knock on Hobie's door to help soothe your screaming head. You feel a throbbing pain behind your eyes, temple aching in a stabbing headache.

You make your way towards the register, finding it empty, you ring the call bell.

"I'll be there in a second" Janet's voice answers. You have no energy to reply back.

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, fingers fiddling with your ring, its red beady eyes glaring at you, you turn it around so that it faces your palm. Clutching your hand into a tight fist, you're sure it leaves a spider shaped indent on your soft skin.

You already know you're not gonna take the offer so why are you feeling this way? Is it because you're afraid of telling Hobie? If you did, what would be his reaction to it? Whatever it is, you won't accept the job. You only have one Hobie, there'll always be another job, right?

Exhaling, you scratch off a bit of your nail polish, it falls on the floor like snowflakes. Janet finally makes an appearance, cane thumping against carpet, face lighting up when she sees you.

"And here I thought you wouldn't pick up your order" she chuckles, eyes staying on your leather jacket. "Nice jacket, wonder whose that is?" Janet gives you a teasing look, eyebrow raising knowingly.

Giving her a shy smile, you bite your lip. "He made the move– well it was a team effort for the both of us" chuckling, your eyes twinkle when talking about him.

Janet claps her hand, you jump slightly at the cracking sound. For an old woman she could clap really loud. She grins widely at you, smile lines prominent.

"Oh my days! Finally!" She clutches her pearls, "oh so proud of you, sweetheart. Tell me, How'd it go? Only if you're comfortable of course"

"Well he made this really dramatic entrance at the show, running late of course" Janet hangs on to every word, eyes flickering to your tired ones. "After he walked on the runway he just upped and kissed me" you say still in disbelief, happy that you've finally told someone else in person.

Telling Yuri and the others on the phone wasn't as satisfying as you thought it would be. Still, their happy screeches and between 'told you so's'– It left a very giddy look on your face while Hobie rolls his eyes at Yuri telling James he owes her money. Ned was yelling the entire time, chanting 'I did that!' On the speaker, so loud in fact you thought he was gonna break it.

You didn't even mean to tell them at first, but when you answered the phone, Hobie's phone at three am, voice hoarse, sleep still in your eyes with Hobie tangled around your body, telling you in his sleep deprived voice to drop the call, it's safe to say your eardrums almost burst out with (a very drunk) Ned's surprised screech followed by (an equally drunk) Yuri and James. There goes keeping it a secret for a while till you two get the hang of things.

Despite that, your past thoughts linger in the back of your head, hammering loudly, threatening to break down your defensive walls.

"But you don't look too happy" Janet pipes up after your retelling. She looks concerned, lips turning into a thin line. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm really happy" Voice quiet, surprised that she saw through the cracks. You're really happy but the offer has your very being torn in half. Occupying your thoughts, eating you inside.

"Honey, I have five children and eleven grandkids, trust me I can tell." She sighs, eyes softening. "You don't have to tell me, but if that boy did something–"

Shaking your head, you're prepared to defend Hobie with your life. "It's not him." With a wobbly breath, you ask her for advice. "Did you ever have to leave someone you love because it'll be better in the long run?"

"Depends, better for whom exactly?" She turns around, grabbing your order from the shelf behind her. "And why would it be better for them?" Bringing the rolls of fabric on the counter with a thump.

"Nevermind, it's nothing" you retract your previous words. Palm aching from how hard you're clenching your fists, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Janet nods, genuine concern on her face. "I don't want to push you, but if you still want my advice just ask." She rings up your purchase.

"Thank you" paying for the fabric, you walk away from the cashier. An idea pops up wherein you don't have to directly ask, because if you did, it would make it real.

"A friend of mine was offered a job" biting your lip, you're technically not lying to her since your classmate Hannah got offered the same thing as you.

Walking back to the counter, Janet listens intently. "And uh, she's worrying about leaving her friends because the job requires her to move away," you pause for a brief second. "Really far away. And she hasn't told them"

"Give your friend my congratulations then." She smiles at you, "Was it a good offer at least?"

"Yeah, they gave m–her a lot to consider. It's a great opportunity for her," with all the numerous visits at her shop, you've grown to trust Aunt Janet with her wisdom in life, not to mention you're quite similar to each other. You value her opinion.

"But she's anxious because she wants to stay with her friend?" You nod at her question, knowing exactly what she's implying. "Well, ask her what was her initial reaction to the news, that usually gives a lot of information on what she truly feels" remembering your excitement and happy first reaction, you try to cover it up in your mind.

"She really doesn't want to leave him behind" your eyes start watering at the thought.

"Does she love him?"

"A lot, she loves him so much it hurts sometimes." You inhale at the confession, feeling guilty that you're dumping it all on Janet.

She takes your clenched hand that's been shaking on the counter, unclenching it, your nails leave half moon indents on your palms.

"Just talk to him, tell him. He'll help her figure it out, better than this old woman can" Janet squeezes your hand. You nod, taking her advice.

"Thank you, I'll tell her that" smiling at aunt Janet, you blink away the tears pooling in your watery eyes.

"Do you want to have a cup of tea? My daughter just sent me a batch from India. I think you'll like it." Janet asks, determined to help ease your mind off of things.

"Okay, sure" accepting, she leads you behind the counter into the back of the store.

—

You wave to Janet goodbye, stomach full of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, you stop in your tracks.

Hobie leans on his bike, grinning widely as he sees you come out of the store. He gives you a look that sweeps you off your feet, feeling like you're back in school having a crush on your best friend. Your heart sings in his presence, a giddy smile on your lips, practically skipping over to him.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" Your smile turns into a frown when you spot a cut on his lip. "Holy shit! What happened? Who did this to you?" Anger settles in your chest. Hands carefully cupping his jaw, scanning for more injuries. You grit your teeth, winching at the thought of him getting hurt.

"It's nothing I can't handle, you should've seen the tosser who tried to take me on" He holds your wrist, calloused fingertips massaging the tensed muscle.

"Are you okay? Any pain?"

"I'm fine, I can barely feel it now" it's how he finds out about his enhanced healing, thanks to the ability, he healed it in no time. The injury looked much worse before coming to you. Still, he savors you doting on him, "Gromit, I'm fine, yeah? Don't worry"

You let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding. Hand sliding down to his neck, fingers fiddling with his necklace. "Are you sure? Let's just go home for today, then you can tell me who I need to beat up" pulling back, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Nah, c'mon. I feel better now that you're here" Hobie pats the seat of the motorcycle. Noticing that you haven't moved, he tilts his head, giving you his most convincing smile. "Gromit, love, cherry" He calls every nickname you have until there's a shy smile on your lips, he even calls your most embarrassing childhood nicknames, "little worm, pebbles, guppy" you hide behind your hand.

"Okay, enough" you laugh, embarrassed at the names, especially that you're on a semi busy street. Taking your hands away from your face to cup Hobie's mouth. He smiles underneath it.

"There she is" Hobie brings you closer, pulling you by the sleeve of his jacket.

"I hate you" you grin through it, eyes flicking down to his lips, worried that you might exacerbate his injury if you kiss him right there and then.

He chuckles deeply, "You love me though" Hobie shuts down your apprehensiveness, lips a breath away from yours.

Sighing, you act exasperated but your love struck smile betrays you. "Unfortunately, I do" you quip back, words stitched with fondness. Closing your eyes, he guides you into the kiss. Hands flying to the back of his neck, deepening it further.

The nagging feeling stays, whispering and taunting. You push it far back in your mind, it gnaws and claws, begging to be let out.

—

You whistle out at the breathtaking view in front of you, clutching the bag of fish and chips in your arms, Hobie helps you take off your helmet. The cliff overlooks the city's landscape, sunset turning everything around you in an orange glow. To your right is a dozen or so picnic tables, moss clings to the wood, still it stands tall. Behind is the woods, thick enough to get lost in, curved oak and pine looming like giants. Birds chirp in the background adding to the calm scenery.

"Do you take all your women here?" You ask teasingly half seriously.

"Only the ones I've pined for since childhood" he joins your side, shoving you with his hip lightly. Hobie takes the bag from your arm in exchange for his hand. Intertwining his fingers with yours as heat rises to your cold cheeks.

You and Hobie are the only ones in the place, save for a few birds and critters hanging around. Cold air nips at your neck, the sun making it warm enough to enjoy the weather.

Hand in hand, he guides you towards one of the tables. Sitting down, you inhale the fresh air. Hobie gives you your share of chips, you smile at him appreciatively.

"So, who do I have to beat up?" You ask, cracking your knuckles for added effect.

Hobie chortles, "hell, I'll even help you"

"What happened anyway?"

He sighs, frustrated. "We got blocked, they knocked down one of us for no reason. Things escalated" Hobie saves you from the violence. "Fuckin' Wilson Fisk still sits pretty up in his ivory tower" his frustration barks back. "Sorry" He exhales, unclenching his fists.

"Don't be, I should've been there. I'm the one who should be sorry" You take his hand, squeezing it three times.

"If you were there, you could've gotten hurt. Don't think I can handle that" The thought of you almost getting trampled back in the pit still weighs heavy in his mind. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a quick yet affectionate kiss over your skin. "Everyone's fairly okay, we got out early. We'll try again though"

"I'll be there next time, are you sure it's not hurting anymore? Once we get back home, I'll put some betadine over it" the thought of you on his lap, cooing and cleaning his wounds fills him with affection.

"I'm sure, love" Hobie exhales. "Let's eat, it's starting to get cold" you nod, still concerned for him. Hobie watches your eyes roam around the greenery. "D'you seriously not remember this place?" Sitting next to you, he sips at his drink, avoiding his cut lip.

"Why? have we been here before?"

"Yeah, school field trip. Our classes had the same schedule. This is where we ate lunch, remember now?"

"Oh, shit!" Recognition flashes on your face. "Where we got left behind by the bus!"

"Mm-hmm" He points at you with a mouthful of chips.

"We got left behind because you were too busy snogging what's her face behind a tree to remember the call time"

"No, I wasn't," he shakes his head. "You gotta get your memory checked, love"

"Nuh-uh, I remember it because it was what everyone was talking about"

"We got left behind by the bus because I was lookin' for you" his face turning serious.

"What?"

"I never snogged anyone here" he scoffs, "wankers were stirring up rumours 'bout me again." Hobie scoots closer to you, "I got back to the bus after going to the toilets. I watched your bus get filled up but I never saw you get on. So I came back out to look for you"

You nod, trying to recollect the memory.

He walks you back to that day. "I looked around, asked your classmates. No one saw you. I was starting to panic, thinkin' you got lost in the woods, tempted by a ghoul or somethin'" you snort at his joke. "Found you ten minutes later, crouched on the grass, drawing a fucking flower"

You hide your face in embarrassment, remembering exactly why you hid there. Memory brings you back to that day.

Hobie finally finds you, he feels like he can breathe again. Sitting quietly next to you, his eyes linger on the side of your face. Clutching your sketchbook and pencil in a tight knuckle grip.

You sat there in silence until you forgave yourself for loving him.

"Oh fuck" voice muffled by your hands. "We were stuck here for like three fucking hours because I was such a dramatic bitch!"

"Well, it was a pretty flower" he tries to make you feel better.

"That was not my best moment" you chuckle, "I remember running there because I heard about you kissing someone. Guess I've got a penchant for running away huh?"

"No matter, I'll keep trying to find you whenever you do," you smile sweetly at his words. "Or just catch you before you do"

"You're implying that there's going to be something for me to run away from" you joke, Hobie goes with your bit.

"I don't think there's any more crude rumours of me out there. Think you're good, love." You shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes, cleaning a crumb off his cheek. Hobie gives you a peck on your finger tip as a thank you.

A comfortable silence blankets you both, your mind takes the quiet to its advantage, it goes back to Janet's advice. Mrs. Williams' words echo around you, layered on top of Riley's offer. Heart beating fast, the plastic spoon snaps in half as you grip it too tightly.

Hobie's head turns towards the crunching sound, "you alright? Let me see, you might have splinters"

"I'm okay, just flimsy plastic"

"Here, you can share mine."

"Thanks"

Silence permeates the air once again.

"I need to tell you something" you and Hobie say at the same time.

"Age before beauty" He pokes your side with a chuckle.

You bite your lip, gaze lingering somewhere other than his face. Eyes moving at the gaps of sunlight on the trees. Maybe you shouldn't tell him, you're gonna stay with him anyway, what's the point? You find It painfully difficult.

Because if you did tell him, it would all feel sickenly real. A gut feeling fluttering restlessly, mind predicting the outcome of the conversation.

Hobie notices your apprehensiveness, he calls your name tenderly. Encouraging you to speak your mind.

"Do you remember that bloke back at the fashion show?" Bravery taking over with a shaky voice.

Humming in understanding, Hobie moves his leg over the bench, straddling it to look at you fully.

You fake a smile through it, "well he offered me a job"

"Bloody good on you, love!" He pats your arm, hand staying on it. "Well deserved!"

You smile bashfully at his reaction. "Thanks, but I'm not gonna take it" you bravely look at him, focusing on the slow knit of his brows.

"Why not? 's a good opportunity" his hand slides down your arm, landing on your thigh, unmoving, tethering you to him.

"It's just that– they want me to move to the US for it." Sighing, "so, I'm not taking it" you watch as Hobie's smile fades, the cogs in his head moving rapidly, jaw clenching, wrapping his mind to what you just said.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Trying to change the topic, Hobie takes your hand in his.

Heart lodged in his throat, Hobie stays quiet for a minute, for you it seemed like forever. The only sounds are the leaves blowing in the cool air, birds happily chirping as if they're mocking you. Faint traffic beeps from below, it might as well be right next to you with how deafening the silence is. The food you ate sits weirdly in your stomach. You try to even out your breathing as Hobie finally opens his mouth to speak.

"I fell for you right here, did you know that?" He squeezes your hand. You did not expect for him to say that, shaking your head, your heart beats a thousand times per minute.

"You gave me a sandwich– made me one, actually" he continues as you listen on. "Because you know I wouldn't bring my own lunch. You cared for me when no one else did. Then you upped and disappeared that day and–" Hobie releases a shuddering breath. "I just panicked. Then that turned into relief when I finally found you."

Stray tears slide down your cheeks. "As I sat down next to you, realizing that I was panicking because I loved you. And was afraid you were already gone without knowing how much loved you were"

A sob breaks through when you see his watery eyes, something you would've never thought of ever seeing from the strongest person you know and love.

"Hobie–"

"Take it, take the offer" he says woefully.

You shake your head like a child throwing a tantrum. "No, I'm not leaving you," your voice breaking. "I can't"

"You've wanted this since–before you've even met me." Hobie chuckles humorlessly. "I don't want to hold you back" softly, he cups your face in both hands, afraid of what he'll do next. "Do you want it? I won't hold it against you, I want you to fulfill your dreams" even if I'm not a part of it.

You nod your head slowly, answering his question, soft hands holding his trembling ones tightly. "Please, just say the words and I'll stay." You sniff, acting brave. "Please say it!" Balling his shirt in your fists. You hope, wish that he changes his mind. That he would tell you to stay with him. But you know him better, Hobie's a lot of things, selfish isn't one of them.

He stares at your glimmering eyes, watching his own face contort into sorrow. Killing the part of him that wants you to stay.

"You need to go" sobs wracked your body when he utters the words. The ground would've swallowed you whole if not for his hold on you. But it'll be okay if it did as long as you fall with him.

It's love in its most painful form.

His heart breaks for what he's about to do. Hobie takes out his favour card from his pocket, punching out all the remaining logos. You can barely see through your tears while he does it, the card looks bare in his hands. Small circles of logos taken by a gust of wind. He calls your name softly with no malice or resentment in his voice.

Nothing remains on the piece of paper.

You want him to scream and curse at you, make him feel something else instead of sadness. Instead, Hobie hugs you through it, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped around you protectively. Your hands cling to his vest like it's your lifeline.

You hate that you broke his heart after filling it with love.

In between weeping, you mumble 'sorries' love overflowing for each other, cups filling to the bream.

"I'm sorry," you look at him through the tears, cheek on his broad chest, he shakes his head, rocking you slightly in his arms. You feel his racing heartbeat.

"Do you regret this?" Us? You ask tentatively, sniffling. You don't want him to resent you for stringing him along just to leave him right after.

"No, never. I'll do it all over again if I have to.'' He doesn't regret loving you or even confessing, the only thing he grieves over is that it took him too long to do so, he would've had more time with you.

He resents himself.

"I'll wait for you" he blurts out through the tears.

"Please, don't. You don't have to"

"I've waited for you for as long as I could remember and I'll wait for decades more if I have to." He wipes your cheeks, you savour him with every touch. Hobie asks the dreaded question, "when are you leaving?" Whispering it to you so that the world doesn't know. Just you and him on that park bench, bodies in a tight embrace, love pouring out from every pore.

"In two months" you answer with a frown, tears still flowing freely.

"It'll be the best two months of your life then" he captures your lips in a solemn kiss, memorizing every detail, engraving it into his brain.

—

Hobie kept his promise, those two months were the best you've ever had. You and Hobie did everything you've ever wanted together. Moved in with him on that houseboat you've briefly called your home.

Bodies joined together on his sheets you've mended, love and laughter lit up the entire house. With every caress and whispered confessions sends you two reeling over the edge.

Still, your parting looms over your heads. Tears wiped away as soon as they started, reminding you that you won't be truly apart when your very souls have been intertwined since the beginning.

With tearful eyes and sad smiles you part with the love of your life. Promises of late night calls and hand written letters falling on both your lips. Kisses lingering, touch fading as you fly off to your new life.

Hobie takes your photo with him on every patrol, tucked safely inside his leather vest, fingers gliding over the seams you've stitched together.

You look at the polaroid of you and Hobie before bed as you end your call with him, his voice anchoring you. Looking at the moon on your small window brings you comfort that the same one watches over him.

He wakes up alone, sun beaming down on his face, smiling fondly, the thought of the same sun bearing down on you fills the hole in his heart. Reminders of you stays in his home, *your home. Throw pillows on his lumpy couch, your slippers in the bathroom, mug sitting next to his. He leaves it where you last put them, waiting for you.

You endure.

Slowly but surely you grow accustomed to your new life, getting used to the empty space beside you. You meet like minded friends, they help you get out of your shell.

You find yourself, the same one you've lost years ago.

Both of you try to make time for each other even with the time difference and busy schedules. You write letters sprayed with your perfume, a piece of fabric from your newest design is taped inside, words filled with adoration and content. Hobie replies immediately back, with blood stained knuckles he writes quickly. He leaves a dried flower inside the envelope, his letters always ending with the same three words.

After a rough battle, Hobie finds himself recruited to some society full of people with abilities like him. He doesn't seem so lonely anymore. A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders.

You see Spider-Man on TV one day, smiling as the reporter tells the audience that Wilson Fisk is finally out of power thanks to the spandex and leather clad hero. Even with the grainy footage, you recognize Spider-Man's vest.

You dream of each other, dreams getting blurry every night until it's foggy and muddy, turning into a dreamless sleep.

Hobie sees your familiar face, a version of you at least, he doesn't run to her or talk, just watches with a faint smile on his lips. Glad that you're happy in every dimension. He harbours no sadness or even guilt, just love. He'd always miss you but his happiness for you would always win over the emotion.

With each sunrise he wakes up to, satisfaction flowing through him, knowing he chose well. One day he looks next to him without sadness blooming in his chest, just a fond smile under his mask.

He's proud of you and you're proud of him. Sometimes that's enough.

Your love for each other never waned, it stood dormant in your hearts, waiting and yearning for the day you finally reunite.

Until you thread the needle again.

A/N: AHHH!! IT'S FINALLY DONE! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, and interacting with my lil story! And thank you for sticking around this long ❤️

Until next time, lovelies (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

(Please read the epilogue when it comes out ily)

#thread the needle chapter 10 #thread the needle series #thread the needle #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #spider punk #hobie brown #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #spider punk x fem!reader #cw food mention #tw violence #cw injury #fanfic

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 13

This is it guys, the chapter of this fic. I have had an absolute blast writing and even more so reading all the comments and tags.

This last chapter is dedicated to all those who wanted the moms to bring Steve into their fold. This was also chance for Steve to rip on the haters without fear of his parents ire.

Thank you so much for all the love and support for this little story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

****

Claudia was waiting at the Byers’ front door when Eddie pulled up in his van and Steve hopped out.

“Eddie!” she cried happily. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Hey, Mrs. H,” Eddie said with a wave. “I’m just dropping Stevie off. We’re hanging out later.”

“That was sweet of you, dear,” Claudia cooed.

Steve in the meantime was pulling things out of the backseat of the van. Eddie looked over at him.

“You need help, darlin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thank you, though.” In lower voice he muttered, “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

Eddie gave Steve’s forearm a squeeze and then waved at Claudia. He backed out of the driveway and was soon gone from sight.

“We’ve got all sorts of surprises for you today, Steve,” she said gleefully clapping her hands together.”

Steve grinned at her. “Mrs. Peterson here yet?”

Claudia shook her head. “She’s always at least fifteen minutes late. Something we were banking on actually.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

But Claudia just ushered him inside. He set his stuff down and then handed her a tray.

“I made blondies,” he said, “I hope you ladies like them.”

She peeled back the foil and gasped. “Steve they look amazing!”

Joyce came out of the kitchen wiping her hands. “What looks amazing?” she asked peering over Claudia’s shoulder. She, too, gasped when she saw them. “Steve, you didn’t!”

Steve grinned. “Your sons always eat the ones I send home with them before they even get home, so I figured you’d appreciate these.”

She kissed his cheek. “You are a dear.”

Claudia laid them out on table next to all the other treats.

On the coffee table were a bunch of things under a large sheet with clowns on it.

“The three of us,” Karen began, “wanted to do something extra special for you after hearing what fun our children had at the Fair because you made sure they did. So we each contributed something toward your love of sewing.”

She lifted the sheet. Underneath was a beautiful sewing kit in navy blue, a light green Singer sewing machine that looked older than he was, and a stack of old patterns.

Steve’s lip wobbled as he raised his hand to his mouth in shock.

“You didn’t have to do this, ladies,” he whispered.

“The sewing kit is from me,” Karen continued. “It’s a beginner’s kit, but it has fabric scissors, a seam ripper, bobbins for your thread and different kinds of needles.”

Steve sat down and pulled it onto his lap. He opened it and as he lifted the lid, the top tray pulled back revealing the tray beneath. “Thank you.”

“The sewing machine,” Claudia said proudly, “is the first one I ever owned. When I got married I got a new one and I’ve been using that ever since. But this ol’ girl has a lot of love and life left in her, and I want you to have her.”

Steve looked up at her, tears forming in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll break it? Or that my parents will find it and destroy it?”

Claudia knelt in front of him. “It’s gonna be kept at my house until you get a place of your own. You’re there all the time to see Dusty anyway, no one is going to notice that you’re there to sew now, too.”

“Plus,” Joyce said with a grin. “It’s a Singer. They’re a little hard to break. They’re one of the best machines and it will probably outlast your children. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve nodded, his lip quivering. Claudia kissed his forehead and stood back up.

“The patterns are from me,” Joyce said. “Whenever I would have a little extra money I would pick up a pattern or two at the drug store and bring it home. I picked a handful that I thought you’d like since you’re primarily making costumes. And if those work for you, next week I’ll bring another handful you might like.”

Tears started flowing down his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you. This is best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Oh honey,” Joyce said softly and suddenly Steve was being hugged on all sides by the moms.

They stayed like that until there was a knock on the door.

“That must be Olive,” Claudia said with a sigh. “I bet she brought those brownies that are totally store bought even though she insists it her grandmother’s recipe.”

Steve snickered. “My mom used to do that. I don’t think she fooled anyone either.”

Joyce grinned over her shoulder as she went to go answer the door. “Olive, dear! We were just getting started.”

“Oh?” the bright voice on the other side of the door cooed. “You’re usually in the full swing of things by now.”

Steve bristled. That meant she knew she was late and was doing it intentionally. He hated people like that. Acting like the rest of them were peasants meant to be waiting on her.

“Steve was just showing us the costumes he made for the kids for the Fair over the weekend,” Karen said sweetly as Steve hurried to get the things he brought to show off out.

Olive stepped into the house with a sneer. “I think it’s so sweet you’re indulging the boy, but I doubt he can hold a candle to Claudia’s years of experience.”

Wow, Steve thought. Not only did she insult him, but she insinuated Claudia was old. What was with this old bag?

Claudia smirked. “It’s true that I’ve been doing it for longer, but Steve has a real talent for it. Come see.”

Olive walked into the front room and Steve was struck by how much she reminded him of his mother. She had perfectly curled hair with not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were fitted and showed off her figure. Her makeup was flawless.

In short, Steve hated her on sight.

Joyce handed her the shirt he had made for underneath his tunic. It was flawless but understated.

Olive took the shirt and scoffed. “You couldn’t have done this, Harrington, you shouldn’t lie to your betters.”

Steve was already seeing red. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you then.”

Joyce clapped her hands together. “All right, let’s get started. Steve, you can eat as much as you want, but just make sure to keep it away from other people’s projects.”

Steve smiled at her sweetly. “Of course!”

He knew that what she was really saying was that Olive Peterson might try something.

He sat in the armchair away from her and she glared at him.

“Is it all right if I work on my project first before you teach me how to use the sewing machine?” he asked just as she was taking a drink of punch.

Olive was forced to turn away and cough into her hand to avoid spraying everyone with the lemonade that Claudia had made.

Karen’s smile was feral. “I don’t see why that would be a problem, right, Claudia?”

“Of course not, Steve,” she replied warmly. “Just let me know when you want to learn and I’ll come over and help you.”

Steve nodded. He pulled out the materials that Eddie suggested he bring and got to work.

Eddie really liked that Steve’s bags had a lining because it protected the dice better, so Steve had brought along some materials he could use for that as well.

About halfway through his first bag, Joyce called out.

“Steve? What’s that pattern you’re putting on the bag?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “It’s my signature! I embroider it on everything I do to make sure people can’t pass it off as their own.” He handed the bag over to her.

“Oh!” she cried in excitement. “This is the design you put on Will and El’s costumes when you did their alterations, right?”

Steve nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you made the clothes, but I thought it was a cute way to tie the two together like they were twins.”

“It was perfect,” Joyce said. “El still hasn’t stopped talking about how pretty your design made the dress.”

Steve blushed as he took the pouch back from her.

“I was talking to someone at the Renaissance Fair,” he said shyly, “and she wanted me make them clothes and things that she would sell for me. She even told me to make business cards in case someone wanted to commission me directly.”

“Oh Steve!” Karen cried. “That’s wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and tilted her head. “I have to admit I’m a little jealous. That pattern is beautiful. I would love a handkerchief with that on it.”

Steve straightened up. “Yeah?”

Karen nodded.

“What color would you like?” he asked excitedly.

Karen tried to protest but he wouldn’t let her. In fact he managed to convince all but Olive to let him make them one for them.

It did, unfortunately take him to the end of the two hours, but he was excited to come next week.

“I’ll even host it at my place!” he said with a grin.

Olive sputtered. “Well I won’t be there if it’s at this young man’s house. That’s so inappropriate.”

The three other ladies looked at each other and then shrugged.

“Your loss,” Karen said dryly.

Olive stormed out of the house vowing that as long as Steve was part of the group she would never come back.

“Well that is a relief,” Joyce said, “I’m not the kind to speak ill of anyone, but we really got quite the upgrade!”

Karen clapped her hands. “Indeed. I can’t wait for next week. I’ve got a new project I’m starting and I found the best recipe for a chocolate mousse that I’ve been dying to try out.”

“Same time next week, ladies?” Steve asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Claudia agreed.

Then there came a loud honk.

Steve looked out the window and smiled. “Looks like my ride is here.”

He gather up his stuff, including the patterns and sewing kit and walked out to Eddie’s van.

He slid into the front seat.

“You have fun today, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, pulling out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” Steve said looking fondly at the house. “This has been the best weekend ever.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, it’s about to get even better, just wait to you see what I have planned for us today.”

Steve smiled as Eddie regaled him with his plans and nodded along.

Life was really looking up. He had a platonic soulmate, good friends, an amazing boyfriend, a hobby he enjoyed and could make real money from, and now a group of people to share that hobby with each week.

And to think it all started with a flier about the Renaissance Fair coming back to Hawkins.

“I can’t wait,” he breathed once Eddie was done.

Eddie smiled that sweet smile at always turned Steve’s insides to mush.

Yeah, Steve could honestly say that he was happy.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369 ​

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss

@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv

@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. There’s 3 new characters thrown in because why not? Future Wife gets a name as well! A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I just started on the 4th chapter but I’m excited to write it out! I had fun with the original fic and decided to write the prequel to how they met. Enjoy!

Also I have to go back to chapter 5 of my Kid Buggy fic since they talk most about their relationship beginnings in there, oops. I also wanted to write Buggy as the sort of "I'm a smooth operator until I'm not". And the Future Wife gets named in this chapter because I decided she needed a name.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 3

You saw him again a month later. He really was popping by for every little thing now, and this time was no different. You were working on a dress for a customer while the girls were ironing and hemming other orders. When Buggy burst into the shop he paused for a brief moment when he saw you before marching up to the counter where your boss waited.

“What now?” She demanded. Buggy glared at her but he held his ground, not backing down from her.

“I… need something fixed.” He said, glancing in your direction briefly before pointing to his shoes. “My socks.” 

“We don’t mend socks.” Your boss told him firmly. “Throw them out and get new ones.”

“You can’t fix them?!” He exclaimed. Miss Pins shook her head. Buggy took a deep breath, looking as though he was trying to think of something else. “Well, can you-”

“I can darn the socks.” You told him as you set your needle and thread down. Your boss glared at you, trying to tell you to sit down and stop helping this guy without speaking a word but you chose to ignore her. You pushed your chair back from the table and smiled at him. “But I’ll only do it if they’re washed. I assume you’re wearing them right now?”

Buggy turned red and looked away from you as he nodded. You chuckled softly and shook your head as you stood up. “Okay, come with me. Let’s get you taken care of.” 

Your boss and coworkers watched as the pirate followed after you to the backroom like a little puppy follows his owner. Miss Pins was going to have words with the both of you about this: he needed to stop coming around and you needed to stop being nice to him. He wasn’t some stray you needed to keep feeding. He was a damn pirate who needed to get back on his ship and sail away. While it wasn’t uncommon for the shop to have repeat customers, he was a thorn in Miss Pins side since he first showed up. She did not like him one bit and she did not like the way he looked at you.

You had Buggy sit down and remove his shoes while you got the washing bin ready. Since one of the services was to clean customers' clothes for them, you saw no reason why you wouldn’t wash his socks before mending them. Buggy said nothing as he removed his socks and held them out to you, but you grabbed a bowl and had him set them in there. He frowned but did as you asked before leaning forward in his seat, watching you as he tried to tuck his feet under the chair.

“I never know when to expect you, Captain.” You told him as you mixed the cleaning solution into the bin. Once it was ready you grabbed the bowl and tossed his socks into the soapy water. “But I enjoy the surprise of you showing up.”

“Well, I have things that need to be mended.” He shot back as he turned red. It wasn’t like he was coming here on purpose to have you fix his things. “And this is the only place that caters to pirates and does a decent job.”

You glanced at him with a smile as you added a small agitator into the bowl, stirring up the water and socks to get them clean. “I’m glad you chose us then, Captain.”

“Buggy.” He mumbled, looking down at his feet. You frowned, not hearing him at first but he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “You can call me Buggy.”

“Oh.” You looked back at the water that was getting dirtier with each agitation. Calling him by his first name was a little personal. “Okay.”

“I… never learned your name.” He continued to mumble, looking incredibly uncomfortable and unsure of himself right then. 

“That’s because I never told you.” Was your response as you pulled the socks from the water to wring them out. You set them aside and dumped the dirty water before refilling the tub with fresh water. 

“Well, what’s your name then?” Buggy asked. “What should I call you?”

You winked at him and went back to cleaning the socks. “Whatever you want to call me, Buggy.” 

He felt a small surge of courage right then as he now leaned back in his chair with a smirk. The chair tilted backwards, resting on two legs while the other two were inches off the ground. “Can I call you Babe?”

The courage left as soon as it arrived because you turned to look at him, face unreadable, and he lost his balance and tipped the chair backwards with him in it, his legs flying up and over, his torso separating from his body and landing beside him. 

You just stared at him in shock for a moment before rushing over to grab his legs. This… was weird. Very weird. His body seemed to snap back together and he stared at you in horror. Was this something pirates were able to do, separate their body parts like that? 

“Are you okay?” You managed to ask. “Buggy, your body-”

“I’m fine!” He snapped as he pulled away from you, embarrassed by what you saw. He didn't want you to see that, not yet when he was trying to get to know you. “Don’t to-”

You took his hat off his head and set it aside, ignoring his temper as you touched his head, feeling for any bumps from the fall. His entire body went rigid, eyes wide, almost fearful as you cupped his cheeks, looking into his eyes. You were just checking for injury, maybe a concussion from the tumble, but then you smiled with relief.

“You didn’t hit your head too hard it seems.” You said as you started to pull your hands back, but he grabbed you and your eyes widened when you saw his hands on your wrists but with no arms attached to them. “Buggy, are you okay?”

“What’s all this noise?” Miss Pins demanded as she came into the back, Livia and Edith following behind her. “I swear, if you two are fu-”

She stopped when she saw the two of you: Buggy on the ground with you kneeling over him with disembodied hands on your wrists. At least Buggy had the mind to look embarrassed by the situation while you just smiled at your boss as you explained what happened.

“Chair tipped back and he took a tumble, but he’s okay.” You told her as his hands returned to his arms. “Sorry if we were loud.”

Everything was okay for a moment, but you and Buggy both saw Livia lean over to Edith and not so quietly whisper, I guess his nose is real since it stayed on when he fell.

What if it’s glued on? Edith whispered back. I still think it's fake. No one has a nose like that. 

He has a nose like that. Livia grinned as she glanced in his direction. I bet it honks.

Buggy didn’t even have the chance to react because you were scolding the teenagers for him; even Miss Pins had her arms crossed and was giving the apprentices both a look. 

“Don’t talk about his nose, you two!” You snapped at them, friendly demeanor gone and replaced with a fierce protectiveness, startling the two of them and even Buggy. “Honestly! Apologize for being rude now! I cannot believe you both!”

“But-” Livia started to say but Edith cut her off. 

“You’re not in charge!” The other teen exclaimed, looking up at Miss Pins. “He’s been nothing but rude to us since he first came here! Why do we have to be nice to him?”

“Because he’s a paying customer.” Miss Pins told her. “And he’s never been rude to you two, just me and Sunny, so you two apologize to the Captain now.” 

The two looked at their caretaker before reluctantly looking back at Buggy. With the way you were glaring at them they knew they needed to apologize or else. The look of absolute fury in your eyes terrified them more than Buggy’s behavior had so far. 

“I’m sorry.” They both said before you pointed to the door.

“Go clean the kitchen and start dinner, both of you.” You ordered. “You’ll also clean the kitchen again tonight after dinner.” You shook your head and sighed. “I’m so disappointed in the two of you.”

Livia and Edith’s jaws dropped and they looked at Miss Pins once more. She nodded in agreement with what you were saying. At this point she trusted you (kind of) to make certain decisions, and speaking about a customer like that in front of him was grounds for punishment. Both left the room, grumbling about it being unfair. 

“Fix his socks and then he leaves, understand?” Miss Pins said. “And be quieter in here.”

You nodded, swallowing heavily as you tried to calm yourself down. It wasn’t often you got angry like that, but you were upset for him that they would say that in front of him like that. Your hands were shaking as you stood up, reaching out to pull him to his feet. He reluctantly allowed help, but as soon as he got to his feet he turned to head to the door but you held onto his hand.

“Buggy, wait.”

“What?!” He snapped as he turned to face you, cheeks burning from embarrassment. You were just a tailor, a shopgirl, you had no business being nice to him apart from getting paid for it. He didn’t need you coming to his defense when people made comments about his appearance, it happened enough that he always handled it with yelling and violence. No one ever apologized, and yet you had the two do it. 

“I’m sorry.” You told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “They shouldn’t have said those things.”

Buggy stared at you for a moment. His brain was going a million miles a minute as he processed your words, the way you were looking at him with those kind eyes that minutes before were full of absolute fury. He felt your warmth through his gloved hand and he wondered if he should take it off so he could feel how soft your skin was. There was a brief flicker of familiarity of your words, but he couldn’t recall ever hearing someone say that before to him. It must have happened in a dream.

He finally jerked out of your grasp and grabbed his boots and hat before storming out of the backroom. Miss Pins looked up as he walked through the shop, eyebrow raised as she saw him carrying his boots, but she said nothing. Maybe he would finally stop coming around and being a nuisance after all this. 

Except he would need to come back for his socks.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No’ like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire

[panda-writes-kpop]

thnks fr th mmrs, vn thgh thy wrn’t s grt

a/n: 0_0 ..me when I remember that I haven't updated the hypnosis series in months... whoops! anyways, here's another chapter to feed the people who enjoy this series! special thanks to @kingmaker-a for reading over this one - I'm glad you enjoy the series, my guy <3

tw: lots of blood 'n gore, weird spirit physics, double the people turning into vampires for none of the extra cost, sad memories and morally ambiguous characters

word count: 4.6k

( <- Previous Part | Next Part -> | Series Masterlist)

summary: everything's wrong. two of your friends are missing, two of your friends are in serious shit with the university, and the other three are barely hanging on to what they hold dear. and then there's you - the one who's seeing the ghost of your dead friend. the cherry on top? you may be turning into the monster that destroyed everything you loved.

but it can't get worse than this, right?

♡ Masterlist ♡

light - the absence of darkness.

From the bright sunshine that would blind you when you walked to your 10:30 a.m. lecture to the electrical lighting that allowed you to see what SuA had done to Siyeon, it was there to help illuminate your way and give you the answers that you seeked.

Without the light, you felt like you were stumbling into darkness, just as you were doing now. Your intuition had guided you forwards, past the unrecognizable mush of blood, guts, and bones that was a body in front of you. Your phone flashlight was the only sort of light you had, but it felt like a cheap replica compared to the warm sunlight that you and your friends used to bask in together.

Will things ever be the same?

That wasn’t the question to ask, especially now that you were in an abandoned part of a hospital ward. 

Looking back, the hospital room with your friends seems so far away, and you could go back and give up.

But you don’t quit, not when two of your friends are locked up in some cold, abysmal basement on campus while Ryujin and Handong are nowhere to be seen. You could do something for once, have some agency in the middle of the world’s shittiest situation. 

So you continue on until you encounter a disastrous scene. What intrigues you lies past the bloodshed, but you’re forced to look at what’s in front of you first.

There are eight closed doors past the messy nurse’s station - an evacuation or a massacre took place here, due to the scatter of paperwork, files, and file cabinets all over the floor. A few papers were stuck to the ceiling with pins and needles, and blood covers every possible surface. You’d normally gag at the sight of so much blood, but you weirdly find… comfort in all of it.

And when did your mouth start filling with saliva?

You force yourself to swallow the uncomfortable feeling rising in your chest. Handong and Ryujin are fine, if anything were to happen to them, they’d be the most likely to take care of themselves and each other.

Yet again, betrayal seemed to be a common theme in your life, so you’d best keep moving.

Alright, there’s eight doors. Find something familiar, someone familiar that will make you want to go through.

Your hand grabs the first door knob as you realize how ill-prepared you are for this venture. With just your phone flashlight and the will of pure fucking spite for SuA and her shitty life decisions, you pull through the tangled threads of your fractured mind to find someone to help you through this.

Unfortunately for you and your increasingly temporary good mood, your mind finds its way to settle on Chou Tzuyu, the girl who died before she ever had a chance to live.

What if I hadn’t blocked SuA immediately? What if I had talked things through with Siyeon sooner? What if JiU and I had seen eye-to-eye?

Would anything have changed?

You take a soft breath before turning the door handle.

Chou Tzuyu - the girl who never hesitated to help you out, the girl who gave you homework answers every time you came to class with glassy eyes, and the girl who helped you realize that you should give dating another chance.

You let go of the door handle to place both hands on the door. Rage builds inside of you as vengeance seeps into your bones. Chou Tzuyu was dead, and you were pissed about it.

You pull your hands back, only to slam them against the steel door. To your surprise, the door flies off of its hinges and slams into the parallel wall inside of the hospital room. With your hands extended, you stare at them in morbid curiosity (I did that?) before you realize that you can step through the room (I did that!).

With your phone flashlight, you scan the wall to your left to find a light switch, and once you find it, you flick it on. The light blinks for a minute before turning on. Although you weren’t a fan of the sterile lighting, it was better than the darkness that you were surrounded in before.

“What would you ever do without me?” A voice rings out, one that causes your hair to rise on your neck and arms.

You shriek and throw your phone - one of the least intelligent decisions you’ve made thus far - and you cringe when you hear it shatter against the wall.

Fuck.

“Tzuyu?” You spin around, only to lock eyes with someone you never thought you would see again. “Fuck, I’m sorry-“

“-Don’t worry about it, you can’t do me any harm.” Tzuyu offers you a warm smile before sticking her arm through a wall and then letting it sit at her side afterwards. “SuA already killed me once, you can’t kill me again.”

Bewildered, you stare at her.

“How? Why? What the fuck?”

“Well, I heard Siyeon and SuA fighting-“

“-yeah, I heard that story, I know.” You wildly gesture to the girl in front of you. “How are you here?”

“Being a ghost works differently than being a human or any other type of mortal creature.” She explains as you notice a soft lilac hue that surrounds her figure. “I’m free to roam between the planes of the living and the dead, and I can visit who I want whenever I want.”

“Okay…” You shake your head before nervously playing with your hair. “Why did you choose me to talk to?”

“You have a lot of questions, like usual, and I have plenty of answers. It’ll be just like old times.” Tzuyu sits on the edge of the hospital bed before patting the spot next to her. 

You reluctantly sit next to Tzuyu as you study her for a moment. She doesn’t look as ghastly as your last meeting with her; instead, she looks just as well as she did at the party.

“The party, Tzuyu, you were there… or, at least, it looked like you were there.” You try to explain the events of the party, but it all blurs together in your mind.

Drinks. Dahyun dancing? Tzuyu left to see her. Video games. JiU crashes the party. 2 a.m. wake-up. SuA bites me. Fox bites her. I died?

“It was a mirage, someone was working with SuA to create an exact duplicate of me. It has to be someone with powerful sorcery skills who would study under Professor Wang, since he specialized in mirages and illusions.” Tzuyu’s words cause you to sigh in relief.

“So it couldn’t have been Dami?” You softly ask as your heart tenses in your chest.

She’s the brightest witch you know, one with a soft heart and a kind soul. Did that make her more innocent or more guilty, you wonder.

“No, Dami wouldn’t be taking a class related to that subject until next semester.” Tzuyu places one of her hands over yours, but you can’t feel her warmth, even though you know it’s there. “She’s the last person I’d expect to betray you.”

“Really?” The disbelief in your voice causes you to physically recoil.

“Don’t you remember? When you left that party and went home, who was the first person that found you?”

You had to have been crying for hours when you got home from the party. What else were you supposed to do besides face the reality that your relationship with the girl you loved was over?

You expected one of your friends to come knocking on the door, Minji perhaps? She was too in-tune with your feelings for your liking, and it was something that bothered you about her. She knew that your relationship was over before you did, and she told you to break things off with Bora before you got hurt.

What a fool you are - maybe she’s here to rub it in your face after everything.

The knocking continues, but it’s less forceful than you thought it was. Gahyeon would try to tear the door off its hinges - she actually did so to your dorm room door when you locked yourself in there in order to prepare for exams. Safe to say, your RA, Irene, wasn’t a big fan of Gahyeon afterwards.

Handong would’ve only knocked once and called out to you. You got into a small fight with SuA, your first fight as a couple, and it absolutely broke you. You stormed into your room and didn’t come out for breakfast, which was unusual for you since you and Handong would get breakfast together before heading to your early morning classes. She was gentle with her approach, and her words eventually drew you out of your hiding spot to go grab a bite to eat before class started.

Yoohyeon would’ve just yelled instead of knocking - knocking was never really her style, anyways. She was your best friend, after all, so the door was always unlocked for her. She’d just yell before storming in, something along the lines of “you better have clothes on, otherwise you’re paying for our joint therapy session!”

Siyeon wouldn’t have knocked - you always went over to her place. Most of the time it was to pick up SuA, or to just hang out with all of the girls since their dorm was much larger than everyone else’s.

When you realized who it was, you pulled yourself off of the floor before wobbling to the door. Of course, the girl knocking on your door would be gentle yet persistent, quiet yet certain. Your first true college friend, your closest confidant - Lee Yubin.

It’s not like you didn’t trust Yoohyeon with all of your secrets - you both know too much about each other to not be friends anymore. Sometimes, you just want to talk to that friend who just listens to what you have to say. They don’t always offer advice or help, but a comforting shoulder and reassuring words are always found with them.

When you open the door, Dami’s not prepared with a humorous quip or a warm hug.

“Can I come in?” Is the only request she makes, with a gentle kindness twinkling in her eyes.

You mumble your answer before opening up the door wide enough for her to enter, and you shut it behind her before turning on a light in your dorm room.

“What did you hear?” You ask, knowing how… creative SuA’s storytelling can be when it comes to people she doesn’t like.

“It doesn’t matter. I want to hear what happened from you.” She reaches over to you and holds out her hand. “Your word matters more to me than SuA’s, or anyone else’s, for that matter. I believe you, I trust you, and I know you.”

So you tell her all of it. Some of the relationship issues you’ve been having to Minji’s break-up comments to the events at the party to how you got back home.

When you’re done, all you can do is scan her face to see how she reacts. Dami, ever the calming wave crashing against the shoreline, reflects empathy and kindness towards you as you finally take her hand.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I could’ve walked you home. You shouldn’t have been alone after all of that.” She says as you bite your lip.

Through tears, you can’t help but choke out a laugh.

“Are you alright?” She instinctively cups your face and brings it closer to hers, but you shake your head and smile.

“Only a true martyr blames herself for other people’s actions. Dami,” You lightly squeeze her hand, “I’m just glad you’re here. I’d much rather talk with you than anyone else.”

“Not Yoohyeon?” In disbelief, she lets go of your face.

You find yourself missing her warmth before you answer.

“Not even Yoohyeon. You’re irreplaceable to me, Dami. I hope we’re close for the rest of our lives because I can’t imagine what I would do without you.”

“…Right.” Heat flocks to your face as you nervously bite your lip. “How could I ever doubt her? Dami put her freedom, her ability to practice magic, and her scholarships on the line to save me. Who does that for a friend?”

“A good person,” Tzuyu quickly answers, “and you know it’s not Gahyeon either. She killed someone for you - a former friend of hers, no less.”

“I need to get them out of there, save them-“

“I assure you, those two are not damsels in distress.” Tzuyu laughs to herself for a moment. “The catacombs under the school aren’t that difficult to navigate.”

“Why lock them up there instead of a prison?” You ask.

“The university didn’t want news getting out about two dead students - bad for enrollment rates. They wanted to sort this mess out in private, but it’s all going to come out in one way or another.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Tzuyu confidently says.

“What do I do now? What about Ryujin and Handong?” Confused, you look to Tzuyu for answers.

“Try more doors. If you found me, then you can find the other answers you seek.” She wistfully responds.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be here when you need me. What else am I going to do for the rest of eternity?”

~

With a broken phone and a ghastly thumbs up from Tzuyu, you leave Tzuyu behind as you approach the room across from hers.

Wandering around in the darkness, you find yourself carefully maneuvering to the other side of the hallway as your stomach growls.

How long has it been since I’ve eaten something?

Your hunger doesn’t seem to be settled by the thoughts of food - rather, all thoughts of human food seem to be repulsive to you. You find yourself gagging as you crash through the second door without a second thought.

I’ve really got to get this superhuman strength under control.

After checking yourself for injuries, you stand up and flick on the light switch. The light comes on with ease, and a soft sigh leaves your lips.

A child’s room outside of the pediatric ward? How odd.

You see a small teddy bear resting next to your feet, and you don’t hesitate to pick it up.

You throw the dart against the board, and Ryujin chuckles as it falls to the ground after touching the board.

“Alright, fur-for-brains, you try it.” You gruffly say before stepping aside.

“I’d prefer you call me Jinnie over that.” She calmly says before picking up the dart and casually throwing it.

And, of course, it’s a bullseye.

She gives you a sweet smile as you give her a sweet two-finger salute, one on each hand. Mature as ever, she sticks her tongue out at you as the carnival worker grabs her an oversized pink unicorn.

“Good luck fitting that abomination in your dorm.” You laugh as Ryujin proudly holds the plushie in her arms.

“Lucky for you, it’s going on the top of my car as a hood decoration!”

You loudly groan as Ryujin laughs. Neither of you notice the pair of friends approaching you until a yellow snow cone lands on the giant unicorn’s belly.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” The taller girl, with long, black hair, quickly apologizes before grabbing some napkins and helping Ryujin clean it up.

“It looks like my unicorn pissed itself!” She whines as you softly laugh.

Your eyes peel away from the sight as you realize who the other girl is.

“Dami, right? We met at orientation.” You give Dami a warm smile that she reciprocates. 

“Yeah. Sorry I haven’t been responding to your texts, I was busy moving in-“

“-Nah, it’s alright,” You reassure her, “I’ve been busy trying to adapt to college life as well. How about we meet for lunch tomorrow and we can catch up?”

“That sounds great.” She gracefully accepts your offer before turning towards JiU and Ryujin. “That’s JiU - most of us call her Minji, though. She’s one of my close friends and we went to high school together.”

“Minji, huh?” Your eyes focus on Ryujin. “Ryujin’s been my best friend since I started walking. People thought we were weird, since she was a werewolf and I was a human, but we made it work.”

“Our friend group has a vampire and a vampire hunter, so it can’t get any weirder than that.”

“Your friends sound like fun. I’d love to meet them sometime.” You say as Ryujin dejectedly walks back to you. “Did you clean up your unicorn’s little accident?”

“It mostly came out, I’ll just put some bleach on it when I get home.” She shrugs as JiU nervously plays with a strand of hair.

“Please, let me make it up to you. I still have two food vouchers from the university that I haven’t used yet,” Minji hands them to you before turning back to Ryujin, "and I got this teddy bear at another game earlier, but I’ve got plenty of stuffed animals at home, so you should take it.”

“I’ll take the food vouchers,” Ryujin snatches them from your hand before handing you the teddy bear, “you can have the bear.”

Ryujin walks away, leaving you to say your goodbyes. 

“It’s been great to catch up, Dami, and I look forward to lunch tomorrow!” You wave at her with a smile before backpedaling towards Ryujin. “Thank you, Minji, for the bear. I promise to treasure it.”

You set the teddy bear down on the bed before grabbing the bedsheet and pulling it up to the pillow.

“I can’t believe we got a whole house to ourselves for a sleepover!” Gahyeon cheers before crashing against the bed.

“Don’t get too excited, Gahyeon,” Handong warns, “we’ll have to have the place spotless; otherwise, SuA will have our asses.”

You set your stuff down on a bed in the next room over as Handong and Gahyeon converse in the distance. Yoohyeon leans against the doorway as you start to unpack your overnight bag. 

“Getting comfortable?” She teases before sliding into the room.

“I’m trying to.” You sigh before tossing the bag aside and flopping on the bed. “Yooh, can I tell you something?”

“If you’re going to tell me something weird, I have to start charging you for therapy sessions-“

“How do you deal with liking one of your friends?” You honestly ask Yoohyeon as she loudly gasps.

“YOU LIKE SOMEONE-“ She shouts, loud enough for the whole house to hear, before you have a chance to close the door. “And you didn’t tell me first?”

“To be fair, I haven’t told anyone else yet, so you will be the first.” You offer her some semblance of comfort as your heart races in your chest - you were really going to say what you were feeling out loud, huh?

“So… who is it?” She asks before you sigh deeply.

“It’s someone I’d never thought I’d fall for, in all honesty. Someone who understands me in a way that no one else has.” You confess as Yoohyeon squeals.

“Oh, I know who you’re talking about! It has to be-“

“-SuA.” You quickly breathe out as Yoohyeon blinks at you once, twice, and then thrice.

“Oh shit, well, good for you!” Yoohyeon scrambles for the right words as you fold your arms.

“No words of comfort or reassurance?” You ask as she shrugs.

“SuA’s not out of your league, but she wasn’t who I was expecting, in all honesty. I didn’t know you two were close.” Yoohyeon says.

“So you’re okay with SuA and I being together if she says yes to a first date?” 

Yoohyeon takes your hand and gently squeezes it.

“I’m your best friend. I’d tell you if you were doing something stupid, trust me.”

You choke out a laugh before grabbing the pillow and putting it back into place.

“Minji, I’m so sorry to bother you.” You softly say before she hands you a glass of tea.

“No, it’s alright, it’s what friends are for. What did you need to talk to me about?” 

“SuA and I- we’re not doing alright.” Your words lift a weight off your chest, as if saying what you’ve been feeling will fix all of your problems. “We’ve gotten into more fights, and every time I want to talk about it, she blows me off to go partying. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Can I-“ Minji pauses for a moment before grabbing your arm. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You nod as she continues on.

“SuA, she’s a great person and all, but she has her flaws. You know this, just as the rest of us do. I love her, dearly and truly, but she’s an unnameable spirit. You won’t get her to settle down with sugar coated words or sweet promises.”

“What should I do, then?”

“You should break up with her.” Minji bluntly says it, and her words carve a mark in your heart that a thousand swords could not replicate.

“What?” You softly respond, hoping your brain had cherry-picked her words and made some sort of sick mash-up of them.

“You can’t- you can’t be with someone who makes you miserable. I see the two of you at parties. She has a great time with her friends, and you look like you want to be anywhere in the world besides at her side-“

“-yeah, but she compromises for me and I do it for her as well-“ You try to defend SuA, but JiU’s having none of it.

“-you’re new to dating, especially when it comes to someone like SuA, and I don’t want to see someone I care about get hurt.”

Your eyes involuntarily roll as you know the lecture is coming. Despite Minji being the most agreeable person on the planet, the two of you don’t always see eye-to-eye. She’s too involved in your life, at times, and you just need some space away from other people to clear your thoughts. To her, you don’t care enough about yourself and she will point that out, every single time, without fail. You’ve always treated her like an overcautious, caring mother, but something about her words irks you. Maybe it’s the fact that there is truth mingled in with her opinion, or you’ve finally grown tired of her meddling in your life, but you’ve had enough.

“I’m not a child, Minji.” You set the tea cup aside before standing up. “I can decide who I want to date, and when or if I should break up with them. I just wanted to see if you knew anything about why SuA has been so distant lately.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She repeats, firmly standing her ground.

“Do you know something I don’t, Minji?” You exasperatedly say before running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t see why you could care so much about me - SuA was your friend first, after all.”

“Her actions are not my responsibility.”

You can’t take this delicate dance of instigating and investigating any more, so you quickly move towards the exit of Siyeon, SuA, and Minji’s dorm.

“Wait, please-“ She calls out to you as you reach for the door. “I’m doing this because I-“

You slam the door in her face, an act you would grow to regret. When you come back a few hours later to return her pillow from your dorm, it’s like you’ve encountered a new person. She offers you a simple greeting before taking the pillow from her arms.

Minji’s smile doesn’t spread as wide as usual, and it’s all your fault.

Asshole.

A gentle tear runs down your cheek - you were awful to her, weren’t you? - as you gently fix the chapstick on the bedside table.

“You cheated on her!” Siyeon screams at you from the door as tears fall down your face.

“No, she cheated on me.” You offer a simple explanation, but she isn’t buying it.

“I found your chapstick in that girl’s bedroom, so try another excuse.” She haphazardly tosses the chapstick, and you’re able to catch it, even with tears partially blocking your sight.

“I let SuA use it-“

“I can’t even look at you. Come find me when you’re ready to make things right, and I may be kind enough to let you do so.” Siyeon slams the door as you fall to the ground in a puddle of misery and wallowing.

Two friends, one girlfriend. All gone within a few days of each other. Who else would leave you next? Handong? Yoohyeon? Gahyeon? Dami?

For some reason, the thought of Dami leaving you behind pushes you over the edge as the floodgates break open. You sob on the floor for what seems to be hours until your roommate finds you and brings you to bed, where you cry yourself to sleep for another night.

It’s saddening how quickly things can be over. Siyeon seemed open for a reunion - did SuA finally confess, or did Siyeon figure out the truth? You knew your friendship with Minji would never be the same, and that was okay with you. 

Although you were miserable with the loss of a few friends a few months ago, you’d be beyond consolable if one of your close friends of today were to betray you or-

Don’t think about that. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about that.

You lightly brush the tears away before looking in the vanity. The sight in front of you causes you to scream as the puzzle pieces connect in your head.

Hunger for blood, insane strength, and invisible in mirrors.

Despite the fact that your reflection is missing, two pointy objects reflect back to you as you open your mouth.

Sharp fangs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You rub your temples, hoping that’ll miraculously fix you. “This day cannot get any worse.”

As if the hell opened up and Satan heard your words, Ryujin crashes against the doorless door frame with a heavy sigh.

“You’re bleeding!” You yell as Ryujin winces and holds her side.

“I’ll be fine.” She reassures you as you rush over to her. “Nice fangs, you freak.”

“You’re not helping.” You gently help Ryujin to the bed. “Who did this to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She breathes a little lighter when she’s resting on your bed. “So is the vampire thing permanent, or-“

“Let me deal with that shit, you’re going to bleed out at this rate.” You grab a bundle of cloth that Ryujin can hold at her side. “I can’t do stitches, but I think Minji might be able to-“

Ryujin grabs your arm as you turn away from her.

“You shouldn’t go out there.”

“Why not?”

“She’s out there.” Ryujin coughs up a bit of blood as you grab a few tissues for her.

“Who is she?”

“Handong, but it’s not the girl that you know. They, the vampires,” She corrects herself before coughing into a tissue, “got to her before I could fight them all off. She’s a vampire spawn, hungry and lost to her instincts. We can’t help her until we get her some human blood.”

“We’re in hospital, there has to be blood somewhere-“ You reason as Ryujin shakes her head.

“Fresh blood, from a living human.”

“Yoohyeon.” You breathe out as Ryujin coughs again. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m a werewolf, this will blow over in a day or two. Supernatural healing is the shit, huh.” She laughs before going into another coughing fit.

“I can stay with you-“ “-You have to find Yoohyeon before Handong does; otherwise, we’ll have another murder on our hands.”

#seomjjit ~ hypnosis #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Notes: You and Miguel are together.

CW: He will smell something coming off of you, Miguel does have anger issues

Chapter 10: Same Way That the Stars Adorn the Sky...

Word count: 6.1K

Nearly a month passed as you and Miguel began to date. Well, as far as dating goes, there technically weren't any labels attached, but you assumed it was because Miguel was nervous about hopping into a relationship after so long.

You two still did the lovey-dovey couple activities; you were just strings attached with and without the string. Highly confusing, but you didn't mind.

Tapping your foot along to your music, you cook up some shrimp-fried rice. You came to realize that his job tends to hold him back, and you understood. Being a high-ranking worker and a hero can consume anyone's time, so who were you to be upset if he showed up late?

Especially when you took into consideration that he was missing hours to be with you when you would hang out every Wednesday night before.

You felt there was no reason to complain.

You got into the music more and more. You began to twirl and slide across the floor as if no one was watching you.

“You look so adorable dancing around.”

You jumped out of your skin as Miguel leaned against the pantry door.

“Miggy! I swear!” You feigned a grumpy pout as Miguel couldn't help but grin.

“I didn't hear you come in! Did you use my window again?” You turned one of the stove dials down, rotating over to him.

He just blinked and shrugged his shoulders. He was guilty.

“I made you a custom key and everything, and you still insist on using the window?” You tried to keep up the upset charade.

“I prefer it. It's more convenient to me.”

There was a day when Miguel stumbled through the window, gravely injured with a giant gash wound near his chest. You remembered freaking out, wondering why he didn't go to his job.

Apparently, he set his watch to go straight to your place after the mission was over but didn't take into account the collateral damage that was going to beseech him.

Miguel didn't have time to head to HQ, so he painstakingly taught you how to close it up just enough so it could revitalize properly on its own. With a first-aid kit, a fresh sewing needle, and thread you got from your job, you went to work.

Your hands never felt that steady in your life. You didn't realize how much blood a human could hold... or how much puke you'd held back after finishing.

You made sure to vomit when he was deeply asleep.

He ended up replacing your entire mattress, managing to find the exact bedsheets you had owned.

But ever since, he's been crawling through that window, no matter how much you whine about it.

“Miggy. The door.”

“Mi corazón.” He dragged out your nickname.

“I have a door right there. See, see! Door!” You expressively gestured toward it.

“Corazón!” He pushed himself off the pantry, entrapping you in a bear hug, and lifted you up with ease. “Mi chula. Mi adorable corazón.”

He trailed kisses from your forehead down to your neck as you rapidly patted his shoulders, laughing loudly.

“No, no, stop! That tickles! Miggy!” You squealed harder as Miguel tickled your sides, making you squirm. 

“He-hey! Not fair.” You giggled as Miguel went to kiss your neck again, randomly pausing.

He got a whiff of something. Something strong. 

“Miggy? You okay?” You calmed down and caught your breath as Miguel buried his head deeper into the crook of your neck. “Miggy?”

You've never seen him do something like this before, and it started to raise alarms. Miguel sniffed you and released a groan. Feeling the vibrations in his chest, his grip was gradually getting tighter. 

“Corazón…” Miguel grunted before snapping out of his haze. “¡Mierda! Lo siento mucho, corazón, no era mi intención hacer eso, algo se hizo cargo y no sé qué–” 

He placed you back on the floor before you lightly whacked his chest. “Hey, hey, it's okay. As long as you're okay. So, are you okay?”

Miguel gave a troubled nod. You motioned for him to come to you, to which he obliged. He bent over just enough so you could reach him. Holding his head, you gave him two pecks on the forehead, then pressed yours to it.

“Good, I'm glad you're okay. Now come on, the food should be ready.” You smiled brightly before giving him one more kiss on the lips.

Miguel still wasn't managing the relationship aspect well for himself. He was tremendously grateful for you enduring his moments and tendencies; however, he was still nervous about hurting you. 

“How was work today? You are a bit earlier than usual. I had a weird hunch that would happen too, so thank goodness I cooked when I did.”

Miguel collapsed on your couch, a habit he picked up even before you got together, and massaged his temples.

“Where do I even begin? We had two anomalies stuck on E-374, so that meant double the workers in that case, and I had to be there for that. What should have been an hour's work ended up turning into three when Jess's new rookie decided to do her own thing instead of following directions!”

You handed him his serving as he thanked you and hurriedly sat up to give you room to sit.

“Oh, the ghost teen? Yeah, teens tend to want to try and venture on their own path. Like any child, they require a lot of patience. Especially teens.”

Crossing your legs on the couch, you both began to devour the meal.

“I try to give them the patience; it's just so hard when you hand them those simple tasks and they still try to be all rebellious and diverge!” Miguel complained in-between bites.

“You're telling me you weren't a rebellious teen?” You placed a hand on your hip.

“No, I wasn't!” Miguel pushed his plate onto the table and crossed his arms.

A smug smile appeared on your face.

“Okay, yes, but that's different! What about you, then? Even though you wouldn't have struck me as one.”

“Hey! I did some rebellious things! I knew where the liquor cabinet was.”

“And did you drink any?” He picked his meal back up.

“Yes! I had a sip–then decided to wait until the legal drinking age. Oh, oh! I did sneak out once. But then they had to turn around fifteen minutes later because I kept crying about getting caught. Then there was that one time I asked permission about sneaking out…”

“My thoughts exactly. You were a good teen who followed directions! If only they were like you, I wouldn't have to deal with this.”

“But that's it; they're not like me. Like how you're not like me, and vice versa. We may have similar viewpoints about things, but we're our own individuals who are still learning to this very day, particularly teens. It's why they need patience so they can grow and understand the world around them.”

You stood up to grab water bottles. “You just have to explain your side.”

“I do!” He took the two bottles from your outstretched hand and opened one up.

“Without getting upset, listen to theirs. She probably saw something you didn't see, but the ideas may have clashed. We had our moments like that.”

“But the difference is that you actually hear what I have to say.” 

You smiled and bumped his shoulder, minding his meal and drink. “Well, I also don't get the yelling end. Perhaps that's why it's easier for us.”

“Why would I yell at you? You wouldn't do anything that would warrant it. In fact, I would never raise my voice at you.”

A small curve formed on your lips as you remembered the time Miguel mistakenly butt-dialed you as you heard Miguel shouting at Peter B. about him bringing his baby again on a mission. It was a chaotic five minutes of squealing laughter from a child and Peter and Miguel going back and forth.

Miguel had the urge to recoil until his body blipped out of existence when you told him. After that commotion, it worried you, so you taught him some breathing techniques if he ever felt that rise of aggravation begin to bubble.

It's been semi-helpful for him. He didn't realize how much he had to use to control his temper.

As a few hours crept by, Miguel's watch blared during the middle of a film you both decided to mindlessly check out.

“Miguel! We need you! Strong Sandman variant in E-2230! Truck. Truck! Hurry, Miguel!” An unfamiliar voice sprang out from the communicator as absolute chaos resounded in the background.

“Ay dios mío. ¿Puedo simplemente relajarme por el día?” He glided his hands through his curls. “¿Por un día?”

“Sounded pretty serious.” You nestled yourself into the soft blanket you were sharing beforehand.

“I guess it is if they need me.” He materialized his suit, leaving the mask off, and released a displeasing gruff.

“Still on for that rooftop date this week?” You pulled your body up so you were standing on the couch long enough to reach him.

“I'll see what I can do, corazón. It's just tough to make time now with all that's going on, and I ju-” 

You stole a kiss from him. “You know, I'll understand if we have to postpone. Now go out there and be the good guy that you are.”

You affectionately rested your forehead on his, garnering a smile from him.

“Gracias, mi corazón.”

“Of course, and use the door! The door–Miggy! The door. The door!”

Miguel sprinted towards your bedroom and right towards the window. “In a rush, mi corazón! More convenient!”

And with that, he was swinging into the city's night. You gave a bemused smile before laughing to yourself, resting on the wooden sill, gazing out over Nueva York's luminous view.

Miguel chuckled to himself as he grappled and flung from lamppost to building. He wanted to revel in the moment, especially after spending time with you, but his comrades wouldn't allow it as his wristwatch beeped and blared again.

Grating his teeth, he spawned a portal in mid-air and leapt right through. For once, he weirdly felt prepared to take on this situation. That's a common reaction, but now he seemed unstoppable.

This was the dynamic. You and Miguel appeared more lively—well, as lively as Miguel can get.

Ronnie nearly ecstatically backflipped off the shop's roof when you first told her you and Miguel were together.

You made sure to leave the Spider-Man part out.

And the spiders detected that Miguel didn't get irked as much. He still has his pissy moments, but they came off oddly tame.

Snuggling in your favorite cover, you stared at the sky. You focused your eyes on locating any other stars but found difficulty as the light pollution canceled it out.

“I swear one of these days I'm going to move out of the city.” You huff, rubbing your arms.

He was running late, but you didn't mind. You couldn't fully comprehend his work or what he exactly does, yet you were aware of the on-demand position he faced, and he was definitely worth the wait. 

Shutting your eyes and taking in the crisp air, you visualized an iridescent flare covered in a multitude of tinier colors.

“Hola, mi Miggy.” Your voice held that delight.

Miguel eyed you from behind, as he could picture the smile you were giving.

“Mi corazón. I'm so sorry I'm late! I got caught up in another mission. This time I was stuck with the cockney punk, Peter, and Jess's apprentice. Lo juro, estoy tratando de escucharlos, corazón, de verdad, es cuando hacen estup-”

“Come sit down, Miggy.” You tapped the empty spot next to you, not peering back.

Miguel didn't bother to phase his suit away and took the hint. You encased him in the blanket and cuddled up in his chest. Eyeing his state, his suit was a bit dusty; attempts at freshening up the sweat, the cuts, and dried blood. His gleaming, tanned skin bathed in the moonlight.

He was a rich, fine painting.

“You don't have to apologize, you know. If that were the case, it'd be an endless loop.” You knocked your head on his muscular arm.

“I knew what I was getting into. As long as I get to be with you, I'm fine if you're late. If it's one hour or two, hell, even eight, it'll be alright.”

“The forbearance of a saint. I swear, you make it seem so easy.” Miguel wrapped his arm around you, dragging you closer.

“Well, it's not something you wake up with one day. Just a commodity I've learned from years of what I've seen and gone through.”

Checking the time, you slapped at his thigh a bit. “Give me ten minutes. I'm going to run and make us some tea. I also made some cookies! Uh, the pre-made dough kind. I would've baked some, but I couldn't overcome the case of... laziness.”

He gave a slanted smile and whiffed a chuckle out. “That's fine, corazón. Take your time.”

With a cheer, you rushed down to your place as Miguel zoned out the minute you were out of sight.

This is what he should be used to. This is what he wants to be used to. No troubles, no pestering from spiders that do whatever they please, no anomalies, and no daunting pressure about a universe collapsing.

Even though it's wedged permanently into a part of his brain, it partially dwindles into a bean-sized thought when he's beside you. Whenever he's ready to see you, his heart and stomach flutter in anticipation.

Your smile, laughter, kindness, affection, and more embellish his formidable and stressful life. It's to the point where he daydreams about a future with you. He notes it to be utterly pathetic, as if he's some hopeless romantic. But he just can't stop the thoughts.

Living in a gorgeous, rustic farmhouse by a lake. A garden spirited with fresh fruits, vegetables, and flowers as his children pluck away weeds or harvest some of the delicious foods for the night's dinner.

As the heat passes through, he'll bring out some fresh lemonade as his kids dash in his direction, laughing with your smile. They'll chug it down and immediately want to wrestle before you warn them not to, as they just drank, and it'll make them sick.

They’ll share a calming moment before joining back together and helping in the mini-farmland. He's one with peace—a warmth he hasn't been acquainted with in so long. He'll look up, his heart melting as the kids' curiosity seeps through, and you'll answer, giving your words of compassion and wisdom.

He'll be happy. At that moment, he was happy. In this moment, he wants to be-

“Miggy? You okay?”

Miguel, containing his discomfiting reaction, turned over to the voice. You'd held a tray with a plate full of gooey chocolate-chip cookies and two mugs with steam flowing out of them.

“Si, corazón. Going over the assignment from earlier. Thinking how it could've gone smoother.”

Placing the tray in front, you carefully handled his tea and settled it in his hands.

“I'm sure everything went well, Miggy. You got that wicked, intellectual, massive brain power going on up there. Knowing all those big boys science and math to help you out!”

Miguel didn't know, but rather to be fazed or amused by that, before a hardy laugh broke out.

“Big boy science and math?”

“Yeah. Especially math, because you calculate the problems!” Your eyes crinkled as you granted him a giant, wide-mouthed smile.

Miguel sat the tea beside him and rested his claws over his face. An absurd, muffled wail of agony escaped the man as he shook his head.

“Ay dios mío–where's the suit? You must be hiding it somewhere.”

He cradled you in his arms and pokes your sides as snorts of laughter spewed out from you. You both eventually recovered from the antics and munched on a few cookies while sipping the herbal tea.

“Oh, hey, it's the start of a new month. A new beginning.” You signal at the waning crescent and lone star.

Miguel stalks to where your attention was directed, as his eyes go back and forth between the two.

“I know about the new month and how it signifies the time change, but new beginnings?”

“Mhm. In a way, a new month is the start of something fresh. When you close the last day of the month, the calendar rolls over to a whole different part.”

You take a sip of your beverage.

“Sure, the days and months are the same every day of every year, but when they change, so can life. The moon and star can start and continue a story, but the chapters will be different. Progress! Progress will always be made, no matter how you look at it.”

Miguel sat his mug down. He let your words sink into his depths as he took your views into consideration.

“Do you think I have progressed?”

“For the month? Yeah, they're small but still noticeable. I've noticed you have been doing the breathing exercises whenever something irks you. You say what's on your mind a bit more, which I'm really happy for.”

You snuggle next to him, your head near his pec.

“You slightly ask for more help instead of struggling because of that control you try to unhealthily keep fed. You take my compliments a bit better; you still have moments of rejecting them, but it's still a good step.” You placed your mug next to his.

“You know, now that I say all that out loud, they're bigger progressions than tiny ones from my standpoint.” You giggled as Miguel just stared.

“Miggy, is everything okay? I didn't upset you, did I?”

He only shook his head, placing your hands in his. “I-I just remembered something I read a long time ago.”

Squeezing his hands, you waited for him to speak his mind.

“Osram ne nsoromma. The moon and star also represent love, faithfulness, and harmony. The symbol represents a bond between two lovers. It's usually for marriage, but I now believe it can go even further.”

Your heart raced as your mouth gaped open. “Miguel…”

“Luna. Mi Luna. Corazón, you are my moon. Whenever you illuminate the night's sky, I will always be there, right next to you or all around.”

He caressed your cheek as he wiped a tear away.

“How do you say star in Spanish?”

“Estrella.”

“Mi Estrella, my star. The moon and star. Even if all the other lights try to hide them, they will manage to shine the brightest.”

Your lips met in a fiery, impassioned kiss, entangled in an embrace that you both refused to separate from.

“I swear… we are so cheesy like year-old cheddar.” You dried your eyes, as more teardrops flowed and a shiver of laughter escaped from you.

“Si, mi Luna, but if it's near you, I would be the cheesiest cheese in the entire universe.”

Miguel pulled you up and tightly hugged you. He embedded his face in the crook of your neck and lightly kissed it. Trembling on the flurries from his lips, a whimper leaves your mouth.

Then that scent punched his nostrils. 

“Corazón…”

A strangled moan escaped from Miguel. His grasp refused to loosen. His tongue was swirling and teasingly gliding against your delicate skin.

You forced your squeaks back, as you didn't want anyone to hear you both up there. But when he grazed his fangs against your skin, a whiny cry found its way out. Miguel slipped his claws under the hems of your shirt, faintly nicking your flesh with his talons.

“Mi corazón. Hueles tan delicioso. Tu aroma perfecto y tu piel aterciopelada es adictiva, mi Luna.”

“Mi-Miguel, wa-wait. Fuck–Mm!” You bit your tongue, mewls coming from your throat as you gripped his hair.

His calloused fingers left circled patterns over your waist, his teeth sinking into your supple skin, nipping and sucking roughly. His claws sneakily palmed your breasts, squeezing the wretched fabric that stood in between him and your lovely mounds.

“Mi Estrella–” you slurred in lust, your mind racing in rounds until it was dizzy.

Miguel removed his mouth, and a giant reddish-purple splotch lay proudly for all to see.

He grabbed your sides, mindful of his sharp nails. His dangerous, carmine eyes pierced into yours. You stared back, heaving, as Miguel brought his thumbs down to your puffy lips, parting them with ease. Your tongue marginally slipped out, an indication he took to run them down your glossy appendage. Your breaths were ragged—how hot it was against his fingers.

He moved them away, causing you to whimper. Your aroma managed to become stronger, and that sprang another part out of him.

“Mi Luna is going through a time. She's about to begin... Mi corazón is going to start.” His husky voice huffed against your neck as you moaned out loudly.

He bundled up a portion of your hair, bringing your neck closer to his mouth, and bared his fangs. You quivered violently, petrified, and yet intoxicated, as you were ready to be bitten–

“¡Ah, mierda!”

Miguel yanked away, sporadic wheezing expelled from you both. Miguel drew back his claws, and you uncoordinatedly straightened your hair back to its original state.

You were a few inches apart as you two gazed out into the city's skylines.

You debated if you should question what happened but refrained from it and peeked over at him, observing his ashamed face. You could tell he was rebuking his actions mentally, and it crushed your soul.

“Don't, mi Estrella. I enjoyed it. I very much loved every second of it.” You filled that shred of space that he made between you two.

“Corazón, I nearly bit you. What if I accidentally punctured an artery? What if I hurt you? What if I-”

Thud.

Your forehead was on his, and your digits were kneading his shoulders to relax him.

“I know you wouldn't, Miggy. I trust you with my body. I know that's crazy to say, but I'm saying it because I'm comfortable around you. I know you'll never do anything to harm me in any way. Well–”

You leaned into his ear and licked his earlobe. “Unless I asked for it.”

An electric bolt shocked down his spine, making him grunt. His eyes were scanning yours, as he only saw that consideration and understanding. That love. That affection.

A string snapped to the ground.

“Come with me to my job.” Miguel snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you down.

Letting out a squeaky “oomph,” you landed on his hard chest. “Hu-huh?! Do what now?”

You balanced your elbows on his pecs and scooted your way to face him. 

“Come back to the HQ with me. Spend the night.”

You flickered your eyes, confused at so many things.

“Wait, wait. Several questions.”

“Alright, adelante.” He nodded to let you continue.

“One. You stay at your job? Two, spend the night tonight? Or another night tonight? Three, is that allowed? I know you can have visitors, but not after closing hours.”

“One, yes. I have an apartment near the top floor. Two, yes. Tonight. Three, I'm the leader; I'm allowed to bring in anyone.”

You couldn't argue with those results, but that angel on your shoulder was vocalizing their worries. “Fair, fair. We'll be okay, right?”

“Si, mi Luna, but we'll have to go through the back entrance.” Miguel arranged you so you were straddling in his lap.

“Not the front?” You angled your head upward.

“I don't want them harassing us both. They are a very nosy and gossiping bunch.”

Bowing your head, you began to gather the dishes. “Well, if that's the case, help me clean while I pack up some clothes! Do you think you'll be able to get me to work tomorrow?”

“If I can turn a forty-minute walk into ten, I can definitely get you there in the same amount of time or less.” Miguel swiped up the tray for you.

“Sounds like a plan! Alright, give me some time, and we can head on out.”

With a pep in your steps, you packed a small drawstring bag with your pajamas, extra clothes, and a few hygienic products.

Miguel proposed swinging you both over to the headquarters, just so you could become familiar with the process.

You loved that idea. Being lifted off the ground into the metropolis’ gleaning nightfall. The ambience that will ring around them.

Who would regret a choice such as that?

 

You regretted that choice.

 

Clinging onto his front for dear life as the winds violently whipped your hair and face. Screeching, you realized whiplash was certainly what you were going to feel as he propelled his body from building to building, with the occasional extreme free fall.

His claws were grating up the infrastructures before being aggressively snapped forward whenever he flung his neon web out.

No wonder he had you wear your bag upfront as he deathly tied the opening. All of your items would've been scattered across Nueva York like a scavenger hunt. 

Miguel touches down behind the tower with a powerful thump, his hand patting your back.

“Alright, we're here. You're okay, right?”

Skidding down his body, you dared not  speak one word, dropping down to the pavement floor on your hands and knees. You appeared as if you were a wet cat who just got pushed into the water.

“I love solid ground. I would make love to every inch of this sidewalk if given the possibility. Oh God, I'll just wake up early and walk to work. Yeah. Yeah, I'll go with that.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and puffed a chuckle out. He assisted you up, stabilizing you to make sure you reclaimed your bearings.

“Okay, but if you're running late, mi Luna, that'll be on you.”

You nuzzled your head into his torso, giggling into it. “I'll take the repercussions. But, if I'm desperate, I'll ask for the express pass.”

You bumped your hip into his side and looked up.

“So this is the place. Jeez, Miggy, how do you not get disoriented with this?”

Miguel shrugged his shoulders. “Second nature? You get used to these things.” He twisted his body around, making sure the coast was clear.

“Alright, let's head on in.”

Miguel took your hand into his and led you towards a narrow pathway with a singular street lamp illuminating a very unused pathway.

At first glance, it seems to be a regular wall that's attached to the building, but hidden away, tucked in a corner, were two steps leading to a single steel security door. It's blocked out, even from a bird's-eye view, just as he wanted it.

He specifically demanded to have a secret back entrance when he wanted to sneak away from it all. He scarcely uses it, but when the time is desperately desired, he heads on off. You observed as he punched a few buttons on a digital keypad, intrigued by the separate world behind that barrier.

Jitters snuck its way to you as he pulled the door open for you. You were ready to view the vast amounts of colorful spider-people swinging by and crawling up the walls from all sides.

Then your face dropped. Buzzing lights, white panels, and dirt-free, blue tiles underneath filled the hallway from as far as you could see.

“It looks like a bad clinic horror film.” You swirled your head from wall to wall.

“It's designed to be like this. It doesn't get any sort of traffic. Only two of us know about this. Well, three now, but I'm one of them. Come on.”

The walk seemed endless. The corridor looped endlessly for you as nothing changed. Finally entering a new section with spread-out hanging wires and brighter lights, a single door on wood panel partitions stared them down.

“Are there more apartments, or is it just yours?”

“There are spare rooms, but not like this.”

He fumbled for his key and opened it when new voices began to close in on your direction. Miguel shoved you in and briskly slammed the door shut.

“So after every mission, you have to make sure that you file a report in the system. That way, everything is orderly, and—oh, evening, Miguel.” Jess acknowledged her superior and pinned her hands to her hips.

A teen with half-shaven, ear-length blonde hair saluted Miguel, then immediately finger-gunned. “Evening, captain. Or do I call you Miguel? I'm still trying to figure that part out. The other spiders say leader; others say superior. I hear the vampire overlord from time to ti-”

“Gwen. Shut up.” Jess pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Shutting up.” She zipped her lip and pretended to throw away the key.

Miguel narrowed his eyes on her, still dissatisfied with the earlier events, even more so with the ‘vampire overlord’ nickname he didn't know about.

“Oh, Lord, anyways, I was meaning to contact you about you taking off right after the mission. You usually stay behind to make sure things are in proper order, but they said you just took off. What happened?” Jess dryly asked.

“I had to do more coding for a molecular device I'm wanting to use for the Go Home Machine. And I'm creating a new invention that will smooth and increase the portal's wrap speeds.”

Miguel leaned his back against the wall and glared at the two. “I wanted to jump back into it.”

“Oh, sweet, you are? Thank goodness, I swear, when I'm blasting through, my stomach feels as though it's being yanked out of the soul and the bod-”

“Gwen!” Jess turned to her with a disbelieving, scrunched frown.

“Gotta lock that key from me! Lock it up and just throw it. Okay, I'll just–” She nervously tittered before taking three steps back.

“Right. Miguel, you've been working on these projects for a while now. I've noticed the influx of days you've been missing to work on them. Look, if you need me to have Lyla or Spider-Byte assist you in the work, we can reduce their time on other proj-”

“I don't need assistance. I'm fine doing it by myself.” Miguel shoved himself off the hardwood.

“You say that, but for the past, what? For three and a half months, you've been working on these, and I'm hardly seeing any progress being made. Plus, the extra reports and anomaly cases have started piling up on my end. I've been telling you, Miguel, I need help.”

“They take time, Jess. I'm doing them. I just don't want to waste productivity on tedious paperwork.” He hissed, trying to curb his temper.

Lies. Lies. They were all lies, and he knew it.

“I know that stuff takes time, Miguel, but you promised that you wouldn't leave me in the open like this.”

“Jess, yes, I get it. I just need the time." Miguel's breathing picked up as Jess continued her tirade.

“I recall alerting you months prior that there's been rampant increases in anomaly activities. And I'm just alerting you now that the papers have been accumulating over the week, and I need you to-”

“JUST SEND THE DAMN REPORTS. I'LL DO THEM.”

He rammed the wall with his closed fit, causing a piece of wood panel to collapse on the ground. Gwen covered her face, hoping not to get smacked by plywood.

He brazenly inhaled and exhaled out the nose and mouth. His strained, ragged breathing saturated the tense air between the three. Gwen pretended to check her phone as Jess closed her eyes, the noiseless space ringing until she spoke up.

“Miguel. I know things have been tough lately, but like you tell us, focus on the tasks at hand. Right now, these tasks need to be reported, making sure those anomalies’ messes are thoroughly scrubbed clean. That's all I'm asking.”

Miguel withheld any comments about that. Refusing to even make a peep. Pressing her lips together, Jess tapped Gwen's shoulder.

“Let's go. I'll show you an efficient way to document your assignments.”

Gwen returned it with a thumbs-up. “Sounds good. Uh, see you around, boss.” She gave a stilted wave, then hastened her steps to the opposite end.

“I'm not trying to attack you, Miguel.”

“That sounds exactly what you're trying to do.” He harped back.

She opted to ignore that. “You've been more distracted as of late, and it's been stressful for us as well. I just want to be on the same page.”

He averted his attention to the floor. He hated how she was right. He scorned the fact, but he couldn't tell the reason.

It'll damage them too much. 

“Night, Jess.”

Jess clicked her tongue. “I'll send you the folders. Goodnight, Miguel.”

No other words were exchanged. No more needed to be.

Your ears perked when you heard the door hinges squeak a bit. “Everything okay? I heard a loud bang.”

Miguel trudged over to his couch, where you resided, and slouched next to you. 

“Just my secondary refusing to understand that I have other things to attend to. I have too much on my plate, and she just wants to pile more shit on me!”

You sensed the heated vexation emitting off him as his leg juddered. Your right hand positioned itself over his knee and waited. It took a minute, but it decreased in speed.

You knew.

“Being a leader is hard. They always look to you for everything or the right choices. You're held to these impossible standards just because you're the overseer… but is the leader also not allowed to have someone to rely on as well?”

You rubbed your hand in circular motions as he drooped on the sofa more.

“You have so much weight on you; does no one help take some of it off your shoulders? I know Peter, but what about the others?”

Miguel kneaded his temples and sighed out. “In a way, they try, but they don't do it right. I have to do so much, but more things pop up, and it never ends.”

“Ah, that unhealthy habit of you fueling that control. You haul it around to the point where you're burning yourself out, mi Estrella.”

“I just don't want anything to go wrong, but I have things that I need to do. It's an endless cycle of so many things that need to be taken care of. But I can't do those things because of moments like this!”

His claws dragged against the cushions, ripping up some of the padding. You removed your hand from his knee to his hand.

“Remember at the gardens how I said I envied flowers?”

Miguel turned to you with a quizzical gaze. “Yes?”

“And how they're able to show vulnerability.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“From the things you've told me, it sounds like you're used to doing everything by yourself because you're worried others will mess up, but it's okay to slip up and show vulnerability and ask for help. We rely on each other, from the smallest of things to the biggest.”

You interlaced his and your fingers together.

“Maybe try telling your secondary, uh, Jess? That's her name, yeah, if there's anyone who can help out with some of the stuff that has to be done. If there's hundreds of spider-people working here, I'm pretty sure they're all crazy smart to take on some of the endeavors that you do.”

Was Miguel being biased in this situation? Yes, he was, but hearing it from you was soothing. That benign, good-willed nature as you conversed with him instead of tearing him down.

“I-I will see what I can do, mi Luna. Simplemente, no puedo creerlo. How are you so gentle?”

“I'm not gentle.” You giggled. “I just want to make sure that you're okay. I deeply care for you, Miguel, and I only want the best for you.”

“No, no, mi corazón, you are very gentle.” He engulfed you in a firm hold, kissing your forehead as you laughed, and grabbed his arm with both your hands.

“Alright, alright. I'll be gentle as an excuse to forgive you for pushing me into your apartment.”

“Ay, I'm sorry, mi Luna. I panicked when I heard others, and I didn't want them harassing you and-”

“Hey, hey, it's okay; I'm just teasing.” You placed your lips on his forearm and nuzzled more into him.

Miguel sheepishly grinned and buried his face in your hair.

“So…”

“Si, mi corazón?”

“Going to show me around your place? It's so dark in here, I nearly stumbled over many unknown objects.”

“Ah–sorry about that. Yes, I'll show you around.”

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

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #atsv #miguel fanfic #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #spotify

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Perrito: Chapter 1 - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

you were supposed to be doing 6 months in prison for drug possession and prostitution. that is, until you met lalo salamanca, and he decided to make you his puppy. for $10,000 a week, you were to wear a dog collar around your neck 24/7, and once he clipped the leash to you, you were to obey his every command. tags/warnings: petplay, dom/sub, bdsm, possessiveness, implied stalking, face slapping, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, needles/syringes/injections, medical exam, a few tiddlywinks of blood, non-consensual body modification (you'll see >:33) anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/hole, (t-)dick/cock words: 6,918 ao3 link author's notes: baby's first multichapter fic!!! had a LOT of ideas for this concept and im super excited to write more for this 🥺 y como siempre no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. entonces por favor corríjame si se encuentra algo de errores :3

“Where do you see yourself in 5 years?”

A generic job interview question meant to gauge your desires and plans for the future. 5 years ago, you would’ve said the best case scenario would be a life of modest success and comfort. You would have never imagined that by this point in your life you’d be living in a lavish estate and making 10 grand a week. 

Let alone the fact that you were making 10 grand by wearing a dog collar for the drug cartel boss who owned said lavish estate. 

Whichever deity wrote your life story had a fucked up sense of humor. Your thread of life was being used to draw dicks on the tapestry of existence. You’d gotten great at lying to friends and family. As far as they knew, you were moving abroad to work as an on-call assistant for a shipping executive. You rationalized that it was technically true, but it was an egregious lie of omission. Don Eduardo Salamanca, or “Lalo” as he preferred, was a wealthy businessman; there was no denying that. Though your assistance was the furthest thing from business that anyone could fathom. It was a stable position that came with steady income, job security, and benefits. Sure, these benefits just so happened to include the best sex you’d ever had on the comfiest bed you’d ever touched, but that was neither here nor there. 

It all started how most job interviews go: prison. You were supposed to be doing 6 months for drug possession and prostitution, but Lalo took a liking to you the moment he saw you. He said that your skills would be highly valuable in an organization such as his, which was jobspeak for “I want to get my dick wet”. You thought he was talking out of his ass, but judging by the respect he got from your fellow inmates and even some of the guards, you took his word for it. He promised you a job when you both got out, if you’d take it. 

You agreed; it sounded a hell of a lot better than going back on the streets. He promised to set you up with his lawyer, who’d been working on a way to get him off. Luckily, the lawyer actually knew his shit. He had found some tiny loophole in your case and was able to get the charges dropped and your record expunged. Much to your surprise, Lalo was waiting outside the jailhouse to pick you up when you got out. He dropped you off at your place and gave you a week to get your affairs in order. Then, you’d be moving to his place across the border in Chihuahua, Mexico. 

The week after, he showed up at your apartment in a car that, if it could speak, would definitely call you poor. On the way to his house, you discussed the specifics of your position. 

“So!” Lalo declared in a cheerful voice as he adjusted the rearview mirror, “What do you remember from what we talked about?”

You combed through your memories, the many conversations you two had in the prison showers, cafeteria, and rec yard. “10 grand a week, I wear a dog collar 24/7, and when the leash is clipped to it, I’m working. When I’m working, you have full control over me, and I have to do everything you say. Is that right?”

“Yeah! There you go. That’s the gist of it.” Lalo affirmed, “But, you won’t have to do literally everything I say. If you’re uncomfortable, you have your signals, and I’m not gonna press your limits unless you say I can.”

That was one of the promises he’d made that had put your mind at ease. Discussing this over state-sanctioned lunch one day, he had asked you your boundaries, things that you would never ever do under any circumstances. He was receptive when you told him. Plus, he’d given you safewords to use: green for “I’m okay. Keep going.”, yellow for “Ease up a little bit.”, and red for “You need to stop everything right the fuck now.” There were also corresponding hand signals in case you couldn’t talk: 3 fingers up for green, 2 for yellow, and 1 for red. 

“Right, yeah. Thank you for that.” You said. 

“Ah, don’t be silly. You don’t have to thank me. I want you to enjoy this. It’s a lot more fun for me if I know you’re having fun.” He patted your shoulder, “And, if you want to really have fun,” and squeezed it tighter than you expected, “you can talk back once in a while. You can be a naughty little puppy, if you want, but you’d better be prepared for discipline. So make sure you know what you’re getting into, alright?” He put his hand back on the wheel.

That was generally good life advice, but you’d be lying if you said you knew entirely what you were getting into. “Alright, sure. Fair enough.” You gazed out the window at the desert terrain. Nothing but cacti and sand for miles and miles. You’d weren’t entirely sure which side of the border you were on anymore, or if it even mattered. “Question,” you posed. 

“Yeah?” Lalo prodded. 

“So, like… what am I supposed to call you while we do this? Just Lalo, or…?” Your voice trailed off, as if you were expecting a different answer out of him. 

“Oh, good question! I was actually getting to that. Such a smart boy.” He laughed and ruffled your hair, making you jump a little in your seat. His touch felt nice, but it was definitely something you’d have to get used to. You probably shouldn’t react that strongly every time. “You can call me Lalo when the leash is off, but if it’s on, you need to be professional. If you’re working, you call me ‘Don Eduardo’, ‘sir’, ‘master’, ‘señor’, ‘jefe’, or ‘patrón’. Those last two basically mean ‘boss’. Make sense?”

Sense was made. “Yeah, alright. Easy enough.” 

“Very good. And how’s your Spanish?”

You shrugged, “Mediocre at best. I can understand more than I speak.”

Lalo chuckled, “Well, I appreciate the honesty. I’ll have to teach you to speak it, then, no worries. Also, if the leash is on and I have you speaking Spanish, call me usted, not tú. That’s just when you’re working, though. Es formal, ¿comprendes? (It’s formal, understand?)”

Okay, sure, you could do that. It might take you a bit to figure out, but you’d get there. “Sí, yo comprendo. (Yes, I understand.)”

“Bueno. Now, what can I call you?” Lalo poked you in the arm, “And I don’t just mean your name.”

Your first thought was an idiot. That seemed like a fitting label for someone in your predicament. Thankfully, your second thought was much more receptive. “Well, uh… what did you have in mind? I’m pretty open.”

“Oh ho, you wanna hear what I think of you? I got a whole list of ‘em in mind. They might not all be flattering, just so you know.”

You secretly hoped they wouldn’t be. “That’s fine. Go for it.”

“Well, there’s the animal related ones. Puppy, dog, perro, cachorro (puppy), and then variants of those like doggy and perrito. Reminds you what you are to me, y’know? There’s also other animal terms like conejito (bunny) and osito (little bear). Basically, anything that lets you know how cute you are.” He reached over to pinch your cheek. 

You giggled. The attention and praise was definitely a perk to this whole arrangement. “That all sounds good.”

“And, if you’re a naughty little puppy.” His tone darkened to a rich growl and he dragged his hand down to your upper thigh, squeezing it hard before he spoke, “I may call you chucho, or a dirty little mutt.” He spat that last word at you with mock disdain. 

The idea of him changing up like that, getting rough with you, putting you in your place, that was another perk. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were more excited for the praise or the punishment. “Oh… Oh wow…”

He leaned in closer to you, his breath hitting your face. You wondered how he could watch the road like that, but maybe that’s why he drove you through the middle of nowhere. In his mind, you were the only thing worth watching. “You like that?”

“Yeah…”

He showed you how quick he could change by pulling back and switching back to his friendly tone. He gave you whiplash, but not from how he was driving. “Good! ‘Cause I got more. You’re okay with me being mean to you?”

You were more than okay with it, especially if he would say it in that same sexy tone. “Yeah, I mean, like, just don’t call me a girl and you can pretty much say whatever you want.”

“Heh, I’ll keep that in mind.” He patted your thigh before putting his hand back on the wheel once more. 

A few more hours, a few more rest stops, and a few more hundreds of miles, and you pulled up to what looked more like a military base than your future home, complete with friendly, welcoming armed guards and a concrete wall topped with warm, fuzzy, barbed wire. 

Actually, the armed guards were friendly and welcoming, once they realized who was coming at least. Lalo rolled down his window and spoke to a man with a ponytail, who greeted him with a smile. 

“¡Buenas tardes, señor! (Good afternoon, sir!)” He pointed at you in the passenger seat and leaned on the window. “Ooh, ¿es este el nuevo chico? ¡Él es más lindo de lo que usted dijo! (Ooh, is that the new kid? He’s cuter than you said!)” Apparently, his other employees referred to him with the same formalities.

“¡Ay, ay! ¡Mucho ojo, cabrón! (Ay, ay! Watch it, asshole!)” He laughed and pushed him off the side of the car. “Pero sí, es él. Parece un buen chico, ¿verdad? (But yeah, that’s him. He looks like a good boy, right?)” He turned to you. “This is Miguel. He’s one of the guards I have working here.”

Your eyes were fixated on the gigantic rifle across the man’s chest, enough so that you forgot your vocabulary from Spanish 101. “Bien a… bien a conocerte? (Nice to… Nice to meet you?)”

The two men laughed, but you could tell it was all in good fun. Lalo smiled, “Ah, tan tonto… (Ah, so silly...)” and petted your hair again as he corrected you. “You’re kinda right, but ‘Mucho gusto’ is what you’re trying to say, mijo (my boy).”

You blushed the tiniest bit and course-corrected. “Oh, lo siento. ¡Mucho gusto, Miguel! (Oh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Miguel!)”

“Igualmente, chiquito. (Likewise, kiddo.)” Miguel turned around and punched in a code on the keypad. “Listo, patrón. (All set, boss.)” Another term you shared for him. 

“¡Bien! ¡Gracias! (Nice! Thank you!)” Lalo waved him off as he pulled through the gate. He could see the tension in your face and slung his arm over your shoulder. “What, did the gun freak you out? Ah, don’t worry about that. He’s just compensating for something, y’know?” That got a hearty snort from you. “Nah, but really, he’s a nice guy. All of my people are great. I told them all about you, y’know.” He drove up to a spot in his massive driveway and parked the car.

His last statement tied your stomach into a knot. You couldn’t imagine facing an entire army of employees, your potential coworkers, knowing what they knew. “Uh… all about me? Like… what exactly?”

Lalo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Well, basically, your personality, your looks, how we met, and what you’ll be doing here. They don’t need to know all the details. Just enough to know what to expect, right?” 

You unbuckled yours as well, even though you were now mortified to step out of the car. “What I’ll be doing here? How the hell did you explain that?”

Lalo waved off your concerns, “Oh, what, are you worried about? That they’re gonna judge you for it? Don’t be silly! They know better than that. Honestly, they’re all psyched to meet you. Now, c’mon, you’ll see what I mean!” He opened his door and saw you reach for yours, “No, no, let me get that for you, sweetheart.” He stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening your door and offering his hand for you to take.

“Thanks.” You gave him a timid smile as you took his hand and stepped out. Sure enough, a couple steps later and you saw an eager crowd of people waving you over. 

Lalo raised the hand you were holding and called out to the crowd as he approached, “¡Aquí él está! Entonces, tengo suerte, ¿o qué? (Here he is! So, am I lucky or what?)” He let go of your hand and patted you on the back. Knowing his ego, he definitely wanted to show you off. 

An older woman was the first to answer him with a voice that sounded like how fresh baked cookies smelled. “Claro, tienes razón, mijo. (Of course, you’re right, my boy.)” She approached you and held her arms out for a hug, which you graciously accepted. “¡Bienvenidos, querido! Estamos encantados de tenerte aquí. (Welcome, dear! We’re happy to have you here.)” she said, hugging you with all the love in her heart. Oh, god, that wasn’t his mother, right? You dreaded to think of how that conversation must have gone.

Lalo introduced her as she let go of you, “This is Yolanda. She’s my housekeeper, cook, and the reason why I have such a fat belly!” He laughed and patted his stomach, clearly exaggerating. In reality, he was only slightly pudgy, but hey, you liked a man with a little squish. Much better to cuddle with. “Let me tell you, she looks sweet, but her cooking is dangerous. I’m told she's got something great planned for us, you’ll see.”

A young man, even younger than you were, raised his hand to ask a question. He looked tense, probably afraid to speak out of turn. “Uh, perdón, ¿señor? ¿Él habla español? (Uh, excuse me, sir? Does he speak Spanish?)”

Lalo scoffed, “¿Por qué te importa a tí? ¿Qué, le vas a decir que huir? (Why do you care? What, you gonna tell him to run?)” He was staring him down like he was trying to melt an ant with a magnifying glass. The kid looked like he was about to piss his pants, he was so nervous. Suddenly, Lalo burst out laughing and flicked the boy’s forehead. “¡Ah, solo te estoy jodiendo, chamaco! (Ah, I’m just fucking with you, kid!)” He then turned back to you. “This is Ciro. He’s another one of the guards here, believe it or not with a babyface like that. He was asking if you speak Spanish.”

“Oh! Hi! Uh…” You took a moment to think of an answer for him, “Comprendo más que yo hablo. Solo hablo un poquito. (I understand more than I speak. I only speak a little.)” You glanced over at Lalo, who gave you a thumbs up. 

Lalo snapped at him, both physically and verbally, though his words had an edge of sarcasm to them. “Entonces, no le digas algo estúpido a él. ¿Entiendes? (So, don’t say anything stupid to him. Understand?)”

Ciro nodded, “Sí, señor. Entiendo. (Yes, sir. I understand.)”

“Bueno. Pues ve a llevar sus cosas a mi habitación. Tiene dos maletas en la cajuela. (Good. Then go take his things up to my room. He’s got two suitcases in the trunk.)” Lalo patted the boy on the shoulder and handed him the keys. 

“Si, señor. (Yes, sir.)” Ciro replied before he ran off to get your bags from the car. 

While he was doing that, Lalo took the time to introduce you to his remaining staff: Cecilio, the gardener, and the other two guards, Herardo and Raul. Everyone seemed like decent, hardworking people, and you couldn’t wait for dinner tonight. After having said your hellos, Lalo said there was one more person you had to meet, a visitor, and he was waiting in the living room. 

Lalo led you into the house, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back. To the right of the foyer was the living room, where sure enough, someone was waiting for you: an older man in a white lab coat. A doctor?

“So!” Lalo gestured to the man standing before you. “This is Dr. Cruz. He’s been with my family for years. Actually, he helped deliver my little cousins Marco and Leonel when they were born, so we have a lot of trust in him. I just brought him in today to give you a quick checkup and see that you’re fit to work. Is that okay?” 

A physical? That seemed pretty excessive, but this was a new job, at the end of the day. You figured it wasn’t entirely abnormal. “Uh… yeah! Sure. I think I’m actually due for one, anyway.”

Dr. Cruz smiled at you. “Great. I just need to talk to Lalo here for one second, and then we can get started. Please, have a seat on the couch. I think that will be the best place for everything. It’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

You returned the smile. “You too.”

As you sat down on the examination couch, Dr. Cruz walked Lalo over into the next room. You could hear bits and pieces of what they were saying, but you couldn’t decipher any of it. He spoke in a hushed voice. “Está seguro que yo no pueda disuadir a usted de esto? (Are you sure that I can’t talk you out of this?)”

Lalo responded at the same volume. “Estoy seguro. No quiero que él se pierda. Te pagaré doble por el molestia. (I’m sure. I don’t want him to get lost. I’ll pay you double for the inconvenience.)”

The doctor sighed. “Bien. Entonces… (Alright. So…)” He put on a friendly grin as he walked back over to you. He reached into a bag that was sitting on the coffee table and started pulling things out. Needles, syringes, bandages, alcohol wipes, and some other medical supplies you couldn’t quite name. Then, he pulled out a file and handed it to you. “These are your medical records from your time in MDC Albuquerque. Would you just tell me if the information here is up to date?”

You briefly wondered how in the hell he was able to get his hands on those, but hey, the cartel family doctor probably had connections. You scanned over a list of medications, vaccinations, diagnoses, allergies. Everything was correct. “Yeah. Looks good.” You said plainly and handed the file back to him.

“Alright, perfect.” Dr. Cruz accepted the file from you and placed it back in his bag. “Now, we need to take some blood to run labs. Just to make sure that nothing has changed and that you’re clear for work. Don’t worry, we won’t need much. Just a finger stick will be enough.”

Bloodwork? That seemed excessive too. But, come to think of it, you’d basically be sucking Lalo’s dick for a living. He probably wanted to make sure you wouldn’t give him anything. “Okay, yeah. Hit me.” You held your hand out. 

Dr. Cruz snapped some gloves on before he grabbed your wrist and stamped the needle into your fingertip. You winced at the stab, but it was over in a flash. Then, he milked your finger to get some blood, enough to fill up a small vial. “This will be used for STI testing. We’ll have the results back in a few days, but we’ll only call if you test positive for something. As far as we’re concerned, no news is good news.” Once the vial was full, he capped it and bandaged you up. He put the vial in a bag, sealed it, and stored it with the rest of his equipment. “Okay, last thing on the agenda. Your records state that you’re due for a tetanus shot. It’s a big injection, so I’ll have to numb you first. The injection site will bruise and be sore for about a day or two. Now I’m sure this is probably different from how they do it in the states, but this is how it’s done in Mexico.”

“Oh, really? Interesting.” You pondered, none the wiser to your boss’s plan. He’d exploited your naivete and trust in him to get you to do this, and it worked like a charm. You had no clue. “Yeah, I mean, if I’m due for it, might as well.” You rolled up the sleeve for your non-dominant arm.

“Perfecto.” Dr. Cruz said as he grabbed your forearm. He sanitized the underside of your bicep with an alcohol wipe. “First is the local anesthetic. Tiny pinch, but then you won’t feel a thing when we do the second one.” He positioned the syringe just below your muscle. “I’m gonna have you breathe in and out twice, and on the second exhale I’ll inject. You ready?”

“Yep.” You said, closing your eyes and calming your nerves.

“Alright. Breathe in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale.

“And in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale. Pinch. 

“Beautiful. Now, it’ll take about 30 seconds for the numbing to kick in. I’d advise that you keep your eyes closed while I prepare the vaccination. The needle size may frighten you.” 

“Sure thing.” You obliged, keeping your eyes closed and your arm out. You could hear the doctor rifling through his bag, unwrapping sterile equipment and popping containers open. It was hard to picture exactly what he was setting up, but you could tell he was done when he grabbed your forearm again. “Can you feel me touching you?” He asked. “Not where I’m holding you, I mean right here.” He poked your bicep again, not that you knew, of course.

“Where?” You asked. 

Dr. Cruz chuckled. “Okay, you’re numb. Now, same thing as the last one. I’m gonna have you take a deep breath twice before I stick you. Ready?”

“Yep.” You repeated.

“Breathe in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale.

“And in…” Inhale.

“And out…” Exhale. You didn’t feel a pinch this time.

“Amazing. You can open your eyes.” As you did, you watched Dr. Cruz set the syringe on the coffee table and grab some gauze. He debriefed you as he wrapped it around your bicep. “The numbing will last for a few hours, so it’ll probably wear off in your sleep. You may bruise and be a bit sore tomorrow morning, and you can take the gauze off then as well. Try not to overwork the muscle for a day or two.” He taped the gauze to secure it, then patted you on your shoulder. “And you are good to go, my friend. I wish you all the best in your new position.”

You gave him a friendly smile. “Sounds good! Thanks so much!”

“No problem. I’d say see you around, but hopefully you won’t have to deal with me too much.” He laughed as he finished packing his bag. Once he was done, he grabbed it and turned over his shoulder to Lalo, “Y enviaré a usted la factura mañana. Me llame si él se molesta. (And I’ll send you the bill tomorrow. Call me if he has any problems.)”

“Claro. Gracias otra vez. (Of course. Thank you again.)” Lalo replied as he led the doctor outside, patting him on the back for a job well done. He shut the door, and finally, finally, he could focus on you, and he was chomping at the bit to get started.  “Alright! We’re good to go! Got the formalities out of the way, so now,” He sauntered over to you, swaying his hips as he walked. When he got to you, he snaked his hands behind your back and grabbed your ass. “Now, we can put you to work.”  You barely had time to react before he let you go, but not before giving you a playful spank. “Follow me, doggy.”

You squeaked at the literal pet name. Being ordered around by him felt better than you thought it would. This was going to be amazing. He led you up the stairs to his bedroom, though you were practically chasing him up with how excited you were. When you arrived, he closed the door behind you two. “Stay right here.” Lalo commanded. He walked over to the dresser and opened a fancy box that sat atop it. You heard the clinking of metal, and when he turned around, he was holding a black leather collar in one hand, and a chain leash in the other. You beamed at the sight of it. This is what you were here for. You couldn’t wait. You’d be such a good boy. Lalo knew that, but still, he had to ask. “You ready, puppy?”

“Yes, sir!” You responded cheerfully.

Lalo smiled and fastened the collar around your neck. His calloused fingers swept your hair out of the way; his hot breath billowing against your sensitive skin. It was intense. You could feel your thoughts fading away as you focused on getting into your new role; a cute, silly little puppy. You closed your eyes and let the warmth of his embrace dress you up. 

Lalo cupped your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings in his native tongue as he petted your hair and scratched behind your ears. “Oh, mi chico hermoso, eso es. Se veas perfecto con ese collar. Es como tú has nacido para ser mi perrito. Vas a ser un buen chico para mi, ¿verdad? ¿Vas a hacer lo que yo digo? Oh, sí, sí, buen chico. (Oh, my beautiful boy, that’s it. You look perfect in that collar. It’s like you were born to be my puppy. You’re gonna be a good boy for me, right? You’re gonna do what I say? Oh, yes, yes, good boy.) Such a good boy.”

Your head lulled from side to side, following his gentle touch. As he pulled back, your eyelids lifted up, and you saw his gorgeous face. Dark brown eyes half-lidded, his mouth curled into a smile. You were so happy to see him. You really did feel like a puppy, so bubbly and playful at the sight of their master. You gave him a goofy grin and said, “Hi…”, one of only a few words left in your brain.

“Hi, puppy.” Lalo cooed as he caressed your cheek. “You ready to get started for real?”

You nodded. You’d been ready for hours.

“Bueno.” Lalo hummed as he clipped the leash on your collar. Thus began the start of your first shift. You were working now. Henceforth, you were at his beck and call, his perfect little lapdog. “Now, I’m gonna teach you some tricks. I’ll say them in English and Spanish so you learn a bit. Okay?”

You giggled, already feeling hazy and obedient. “Okaaay…”

“Perfecto. Entonces… (Perfect. Now…)” Lalo backed off you to straighten his posture, and pulled the leash taut. “Siéntate. Sit.”

You dropped to your knees without a second thought and gave him a cherubic smile. If you had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging. You were anxious to make him proud of you.

“Good boy! So smart!” Lalo praised as he crouched down on one knee and held out his hand. “Dame la pata. Shake.”

You laid your hand in his and waited for your next command.

“Bueno. ¿Puedes hablar? Can you speak for me, boy?”

You could. Barely. “Yes, Don Eduardo.”

Lalo smirked and shook his head. “Oh, no no no. Not like that, mijo. Like a dog. Habla. Speak. Let me hear you bark, okay?”

You blushed, but you wanted to be a good boy. And good boys do as they’re told, no matter how embarrassing it may be. “Woof! Woof!”

Lalo couldn’t help but laugh. You were just so cute! “Oh, that’s perfect! Good boy!” He kissed your forehead again before standing up. He tugged the leash to get your attention. “Stand up. Levántate. Two legs.”

You rose to your feet and stood upright, hoping it wouldn’t be for too long. It was hard to act like a puppy when you were standing like a person.

Lalo could read your mind. His next command solved the problem you were thinking of. “All fours. Cuatro patas.”

You smiled and went down on your hands and knees for him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the leash. “Ven aquí. Come here.” 

You crawled over to him and knelt between his legs. Instinctively, you rested your hands on his thighs, before realizing he didn’t tell you to touch him. You started to pull away, but Lalo interrupted you.

“You can keep them there. That’s fine.” He traced his fingers from your collar up to your chin and tilted your face up to his. “You’re a real lapdog, aren’t you? You want your master to take care of you, right boy?”

You nodded.

Lalo tugged the leash and gave you a firm command. “Habla. Speak.”

“Woof!”

He snickered again. God, you were just perfect for this. “Oh, good boy. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.” He tapped his hand on the bed. “Arriba. Up. Up on the bed, and then get in my lap.”

You crawled onto the bed, the smile never breaking from your face as you sat in his lap. Lalo’s hands dragged down your back, mapping the curves of your hips. He took his time admiring his new pet. “You can use words now, puppy. ¿Quieres tu patrón que te haga sentir bien? (You want your master to make you feel good?)” 

You whimpered and nuzzled into his neck, trying to translate and then answer him in Spanish. “S-Sí, patrón… (Y-Yes, master…)”

Lalo’s hand made its way back up your spine, your breath shuddering as he traced his finger up. “Mírame. Look at me.” He took a handful of your hair and tugged your head off his shoulder. You let out a soft gasp and met his gaze. He was staring you down. Before, you’d felt calmed and nurtured by his attention. At this moment, you felt weak. Exposed. He was just so intimidating. He had you quite literally in the palm of his hand, right where he wanted you. He kept you waiting for longer than you would have liked, almost like he was sizing you up, trying to see when you’d break. Once your anxiety reached its peak, he pressed his lips against yours.

You sighed into the kiss and collapsed onto him, your arms slumping onto his shoulders, gripping his silk shirt. Lalo’s lips enveloped yours, his tongue pushing inside your mouth to swipe across your own. His teeth tugged your bottom lip. Since he was holding onto you by your hair, he slipped his hand through the loop of the leash and let it explore, groping your chest, your ass, your thighs, eventually letting his hand rest on your front between your legs, cupping you through your jeans. 

Even though you were the dog, you praised your master, “Oh, fuck, Lalo...”

Your master yanked your hair back and reprimanded you. “No, no. You’re working. What’s my name?”

Panting like the dog you were, you tried to parse the meaning of his question. When you got it, you said it. “Don Eduardo…”

Lalo confirmed your answer, “Good boy,” and took your lips back in his. He released his grip on your hair and moved to unbutton your shirt, unwrapping you like a gift with his name on it, “Oh, chico, you have no idea how much I missed this.” He placed an open mouth kiss on your neck, just above the collar, “I missed that tight little hole,” and on the other side, “Always so wet and needy for me,” and bit down enough to leave you with a glaring mark. 

You wanted to moan his name again, but hesitated. Lalo seemed to roll off the tongue more easily than Don Eduardo, especially when you lacked the brainpower to talk more than absolutely necessary. Thankfully, you recovered. “La-ah… oh, fuck, patrón…”

Lalo peeled your shirt off and let it fall to the floor. “Yeah?” He asked, biting on the other side of your neck. “You like that, puppy? Habla.”

This time, your bark wasn’t loud and confident. It was akin to the yip of an overstimulated Pomeranian. “W-Woof, woof…” you whimpered. 

“That’s it…” He pried himself from your neck and tugged the leash. “Date la vuelta. Roll over. On your back.” 

You scurried off his lap and onto the full expanse of the mattress, flopping onto your back with your knees propped up. It was much softer than the prison bed you two were on last time you did this. Lalo climbed over you and worked your pants off, then everything of his except his boxers. He pushed your legs apart and smiled at the visible wet spot in your underwear. 

“Aw, perrito, look at you! I got you all worked up, huh?” He was honestly one to talk, judging by the tent in his boxers, but you weren’t about to argue, especially when his face was mere inches away from your core. Lalo slid your underwear off and threw it over his shoulder. He laid down on his stomach and pushed your thighs up to your chest, revealing your weeping, aching hole. He bit his lip at the sight, and flicked his eyes up to yours. “It’s good to see you again.” He said before diving in headfirst.

You gasped as his tongue swiped up and down your cunt, lapping up as much of your wetness as he could. He pulled away to warm you up some more, leaving wet kisses and sharp bites on your squishy thighs. The teasing made you whine, though not as loudly as he’d like. He took your t-dick into his mouth and started to suck, which gave him the exact response he was looking for.

“Ah! F-Fuck! Fuck!” You cried as your hands scrambled for something to hold on to. One found the sheets, and the other his hair. Keeping him still, you bucked your hips up and started to fuck his mouth, whimpering pure nonsense the whole time. Just combinations of “please”, “fuck”, “more", and the cutest little sounds he’d heard in a while. 

Lalo let you have your fun. He even winked at you, which you interpreted as a signal for “Yeah, you like that?” He took one of his hands off your thighs and brought it down. You didn’t realize why, until you heard some soft grunting. You felt the mattress bounce, just a tiny bit, and strong vibrations against your cock. He was stroking himself, feverishly so, to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Lalo ripped his head up and gasped for air. “Dios mío… (My god…)” He laughed breathlessly before getting off the bed and tugging his boxers down. “I hate to rush this, but… I don’t think either of us can wait any longer.”

He was right, of course. You’d been waiting for this moment ever since you got out of prison. No bars, no guards, no spectators, no worries. Just him filling you up and fucking you into the rest of your life, a life of luck, luxury, and lust. He hopped back onto the bed and positioned himself in front of you. You held your legs open for him, making it easy for him to slide inside. He gripped the base of his cock, and looked into your eyes for approval. You nodded, and he pushed in.

The sensation of being full was too much for you to keep quiet. Reflexively, you moaned his name. “Oh! Lalo! La-ah!” Your praise for him was cut short by a slap across the face.

“No! Bad boy!” He tugged you up by the leash to face him. “I told you, you’re working. And what’s my name when you’re working?” He snarled.

You hastily corrected your mistake. “Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! I’m sorry, Don Eduardo!”

“Much better.” Lalo lessened his grip on the leash, allowing you enough slack to fall back against the pillow and hook your legs around his waist. He gave you a hard thrust, making sure he bottomed out inside you. Then another. And another, until he had a good rhythm going. His efforts earned him a slew of pathetic babbling from you.

“Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! Ah! Fuck…! Fuck me! Please!”

As much as he loved hearing you beg, he didn’t want you bossing him around. He was the master here, not you. You were his dog, his bitch. He lowered himself down, pressing his elbows into the mattress, and shut you up with a kiss. You hugged him tight, whining into his mouth as he rutted inside you. He pulled away and growled into your ear. “Eso es. Tómalo. Tómalo, puto. Eres mío. Eres mío y de nadie más. Perteneces a mí, y voy a follarte como la perra que eres. (That’s it. Take it. Take it, whore. You’re mine. You’re mine and no one else’s. You belong to me, and I’m gonna fuck you like the bitch you are.)

You couldn’t hear a word he was saying over your own cries and the obscene sounds your bodies made. He held you tight against him as he used your body like a toy. You couldn’t move or fight him off, not that you’d want to, but you were completely powerless, and in turn, he had complete power over you. From now on, at any time he wanted, he could clip a leash onto your collar and take you for himself. You’d spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, knowing that you could be stripped naked and fucked senseless at any moment. Exhilarating, thrilling, intoxicating, none of these words seemed to fully encapsulate what you were feeling.

You choked on his formal title as you pleaded for mercy, mercy that you didn’t expect to get. “D-Don Eduardo! Don Eduardo! I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Oh, already? Is that right?” Lalo sneered and slithered one of his hands in between you two. He gripped your dick and started to stroke it, knowing that was the key to making you break. “Do it then! C’mon, puppy! Be a good boy and cum for me!” 

You didn’t need him to tell you twice, or even once, for that matter. You orgasmed on his command, squirting hard enough to force his cock out of you. You sobbed into his shoulder, overwhelmed and overstimulated, clinging to him for support through it all. When it was over, you collapsed back against the bed, gasping for air and relief.

Lalo sat up for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked when you were too pleasured to think: your face flushed, chest rising and falling, tongue hanging out of your mouth. You really were like a puppy, all tuckered out from playtime. It was adorable. 

You stared up at the ceiling as you basked in the afterglow of climax. It was like lying on the beach at sunset. The warmth of your body heat being cooled by the dots of sweat on your brow; the oxytocin flooding your brain like waves on the shore. Blissful. Peaceful. Serene.

Yet you had no vacation time left to use. You were called in to work by your master slamming his cock into you and bringing you back to reality. You yelped and stared up at him in shock as he pumped in and out of your abused hole.

“What?” He scoffed. “What did you expect, doggy? You’re not finished ‘til I finish.”

You weren’t sure how many times he made you cum that night, but the last thing you remember was dozing off with his seed spilling out of you.

–

You woke up the next morning in Lalo’s bed, alone. On his pillow, there was a note. You reached for it and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes to read it. It said: 

Good morning, puppy! Great job yesterday! Come to the kitchen when you’re awake and I’ll cook you breakfast. 

XOXO,

Lalo.

You smiled. He was so sweet. You folded the note and stretched to put it on the nightstand, but suddenly, you felt a jolt of pain in your bicep. Right, the tetanus shot. The numbing had worn off. Oh well, at least you could take the gauze off by now. You unwrapped your arm, and just as you suspected, there was a nasty bruise at the injection site. Going against better judgment, you pressed down on the mark. Something you felt shocked you enough to recoil, not the tender bruise itself, but rather the foreign object implanted underneath it.

That’s when it hit you. 

When Lalo said you were gonna be his dog, he meant it. You were to be collared and at his beck and call 24/7, and in return he’d give you food, water, a place to live, companionship, everything a responsible dog owner should provide.

And what else do responsible owners do for their dogs?

They microchip them so they can’t run away.

#bcs #bcs x reader #better call saul #better call saul x reader #better call saul smut #better call saul imagine #better call saul headcanons #better call saul hcs #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca headcanons #lalo salamanca hcs #ftm reader #ftm puppy #lalo salamanca x ftm reader #perrito

[idontknowreallywhy]

Contents post for Recrudesence & Estera

(Nothing to see here, just to avoid copying all the hyperlinks at the start of each chapter as that is getting cumbersome! Now I can just update this one!)

RECRUDESENCE by @sofasurf

[AO3]

1. The Beginning 2. Focus

3. Realisation 4. The Past

5. Flashes 6. Walking

7. Things Unseen 8. Words

9. Out of Depth 10. Thunderbird

11. Breaking 12. Burning

13. Drastic Measures 14. Coming Back

15. Handle With Care 16. Virgil Struggles

17. John 18. Nightmares&Needles

19. Morning 20. New Alliances

21. Patricia 22. Healing

Prologue - Stars are Only Visible in Darkness

ESTERA by @idontknowreallywhy and @sofasurf

[AO3]

1. Colour 2. Dinosaur

3. Shoes 4. Thunderbird

5. Lesson 6. Safe

7. Gull 8. Deliver

9. Coffee 10. Flight

11. Run 12. Fall

13. Trying 14. Hide

15. Wait 16. Distraction

17. Haunted 18. Falling

19. Calling 20. Thread

21. Consult 22. Assist

23. Jump 24. Drive

25. Cracks 26. Meet

27. Yarn 28. Routine

29. Bez 30. Introduce

31. Stories 32. Trust

33. Questions 33. Questions epilogue

34. Anniversary

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tb Estera #index post only please ignore #Estera #Scott Tracy #Tw: ptsd #bereznik aftermath #Tw: war #Recrudesence #sofasurf fiction #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Scott has malaria #hurt/comfort #Actually quite fluffy despite all of the above

[houseoflibra]

Saint Seiya: Dark Wing Chapter 31: The Surplice's Memories

Page 1

Eulalia: - Scarlet Needle Antares Kick!!

Page 2

Page 3

Minos: - Ghwah!!

Page 4

Minos: - (What…?) - (My consciousness…) - (…as Minos, the Celestial Noble Star Gryphon…) - (My soul is becoming unstable…?!)

Page 5

Page 6

Minos: - (At this rate,) - (it won't be just my cosmo that will disappear. My soul will too…!) - Damn you… damn you!!

Page 7

Minos: - (No!) - (I refuse to accept it!)

Eulalia: - (Is that…) - (…the Gryphon Surplice?)

Page 8

Eulalia: - What an ominous cosmo…!

Minos: - My cosmo as a specter… I can still fight, - even if all I have left is my soul! - Yes, I have the perfect solution… - I captured Pandora and Necromancer before coming here.

Page 9

Minos: - I will be fine if I take their cosmo!

Pages 10 + 11

Eulalia: - No, wait!!

Minos: - Hahahah! Yes! - Those two are indeed ready, - just waiting for me, aren't they?

Page 12

Minos: - (Oh, Lady Pandora!) - (And you, Necromancer!)

Page 13

Minos: - (Give me your cosmo!!)

Yoruhime: - Celestial Noble Star Gryphon, - so you were shamefully defeated by the Scorpio Gold Saint, weren't you?

Page 14

Minos: - Defeated?! - If I will take your cosmo and go back to that vessel, this time I won't!

Yoruhime: - This time…?

Page 15

Minos: - Whaaa?!

Charlotte: - (Sigh…) - As warriors of the gods, - our strong beliefs and loyalty afford us great cosmo.

Page 16

Charlotte: - You were defeated by a Saint, - reduced to a mere soul, - and fled so shamelessly that you possessed that surplice. - Is that really what one of the Three Judges, close aids to Lord Hades, is supposed to look like?

Minos: - Damn you… - You lowly Necromancer - dare to address me, your superior, in such a manner?!

Charlotte: - Mort Resurrection!!

Page 17

Page 18

Minos: - What?! You were able to clear my cosmo threads - with a cosmo like yours?!

Charlotte: - You are currently nothing more than an ancient soul possessing a surplice... - You are like a vengeful spirit who possesses nothing - of the noble will of the Gryphon or any loyalty to Lord Hades!

Page 19

Charlotte: - You are not my enemy!!

Minos: - Grrr!!

Yoruhime: - You miserable soul, - risen in a twisted resurrection by an abhorrent power!

Page 20

Yoruhime: - By my hand, - may you rest in peace - once more.

Page 21

Minos: - This cosmo… - Is it soothing me and showing me compassion?…

Page 22

Yoruhime: - You will eventually be awakened again by a strong will. - Until then, - slumber peacefully among dreams of the night.

Minos: - (This cosmo feels like) - (a quiet and gentle night…)

Page 23

Minos: - (Forgive me… Lady Pandora.) - (I will go back to sleep now.)

Page 24

Charlotte: - In the end, he had a gentle cosmo, didn't he?

Yoruhime: - It appears that this surplice was used - to summon the most violent and cruel memories of the Celestial Noble Star Gryphon.

Charlotte: - The surplice… - …has memories?

Page 25

Yoruhime: - Perhaps surplices and cloths alike - harbor the memories and souls of those who wear them? - Maybe… - they can even transcend space-time or dimensions.

Charlotte: - Yeah… - maybe.

Yoruhime: - But it's still too early to relax, - Charlie.

Page 26

Yoruhime: - The cosmo barrier around the school is getting stronger.

Charlotte: - Huh?! - Then that means... - ...the Gryphon wasn't behind these incidents after all…

Yoruhime: - *nod*

?: - Well done, well done!

Page 27

Seirim: - Pandora, I didn't expect you to have - a cosmo technique like that!

Yoruhime: - So you're the one who used the Gryphon's surplice - to cause these incidents?

Seirim: - Yup! - (That was me!)

Page 28

Seirim: - I am a Clown of Lord Demiurgos, - one of the Four Horsemen, the "King of Diamonds", Seirim. - I am the one who was entrusted with conducting this "story", - the "Witch".

Page 29

Yoruhime: - (She called herself a Clown of Demiurgos…) - (They're completely unknown to specters and saints alike.) - (They're a formidable enemy…!)

Charlotte: - If I defeat you, - this barrier will be lifted, right?

Page 30

Seirim: - Ohh! - Despite appearances, you're unexpectedly aggressive, huh? - *giggle giggle* - Ok, sure! - I'll let you fight me, - little Charlotte!

Page 31

Yoruhime: - (Charlie hasn't been awake for very long,) - (and her cosmo was also considerably depleted breaking free of Gryphon's threads…) - (Shoichiro and the others aren't responding either.) - (Something must have happened to them.)

Page 32

Yoruhime: - (Harpy was supposed to lead the battle but she's out too.)

Zhu: - Yaaah!! - Jeez! - It's still standing?!

Yoruhime: - (And Sphinx) - (is also being kept out by the barrier.) - (The female Gold Saint was fighting against Gryphon…)

Page 33

Yoruhime: - (As for the other Gold Saint,) - (we should assume that he was also dealt with somehow.) - (And this was all…) - (…this Witch's doing!)

Page 34

Seirim: - *giggle giggle*

To be continued…

#saint seiya #dark wing #saint seiya dark wing #scripts

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Fluffbruary with turtely

Masterpost

big thank you to @fluffbruary! again: i loved this challenge and the support was amazing 💚 found some amazing ficlets through you too ^~^

read everything in "That Stuff Called Fluff" on Ao3!!!

(not all chapters uploaded yet)

NOTE: i've struggled with a tumblr bug during this challenge. most of the links didn't lead to the promised post. i updated them all i hope, but if you happen to find something that doesn't work please let me know!!!

the used prompts are bold. the ficlets are chapters and have their own title & summary on ao3.

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

day 1: clue | velvet | museum

day 2: memory | trace | movie

day 3: thread | coast | beach

day 4: daydream | snow | rest

day 5: pigeon | enthusiasm | aquarium

day 6: butterfly | trust | copper

day 7: routine | colorful | energy & pic: umbrella

day 8: grass | sunrise | fashion

day 9: moment | strong | neck

day 10: ghost | fireplace | harmony

day 11: unlikely | fog | anniversary

day 12: amber | tenderness | incandescent

day 13: whole | steam | first

day 14: idea | teach | fruit

day 15: vague | radio | tent

day 16: sailor | landscape | glasses

day 17: crystal | yesterday | fantasy

day 18: recovery | flight | film

day 19: mosaic | dragon | nursery

day 20: favourite | reveal | lounge

day 21: marathon | young | journal

day 22: bridge | throw | dawn

day 23: scrap | snack | ballet

day 24: art | needle | slip ft. fanart by @ohsoineffable 😍🥰

day 25: breathe | offer | ignite

day 26: ice | beautiful | night inspired by @justanobsessedpan's fanart! 💚

day 27: market | friend | photograph

day 28: wreck | veil | wind

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed💚) @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @psychosociogentleman @quickslvxr @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @johnlock2708 @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain

#turtely writes #turtely's masterposts #that stuff called fluff #fluffbruary with turtely #happy about reblogs 🥰

[the-kr8tor]

Thread The Needle

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 48.6k (complete)

Synopsis: You've been pining for your best friend of ten years, unbeknownst to you he's also hopelessly in love with you. Will your final college project bring you closer and finally admit your feelings? Or will it drive a wedge between you?

Tags: Best friend! Hobie, fashion student! reader, fem! Reader. Best friends to lovers, idiots in love, lots of pining, is it still slow burn if they're already in love? Hurt/comfort, FLUFF. Specific warnings are listed per chapter.

Disclaimer: I have no experience in fashion design or went to school for it. I've based my knowledge on my own research and what I've seen in various media.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

All images used are from pinterest

Main Masterlist

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1 - Pin my heart

CHAPTER 2- Loose thread

CHAPTER 3- Knee Socks

CHAPTER 4- Threadbare

CHAPTER 5- Woven Wheel

CHAPTER 6- Lace

CHAPTER 7- Crossed Stitch

CHAPTER 8- Out of Style

CHAPTER 9- Threaded Through

CHAPTER 10- Parallel Cut

EPILOGUE

TTN one shots (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

Classroom inspo

Chapter 8 outfit inspos

TTN secrets (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Submitted by the readers ❤️

Chapter 8 fanart by @thesevenofstaves

TTN Memes by @hunx147 (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Songs recommended by readers to listen to while reading ❤️

Spotify playlist

From the start by Laufey, Chemtrails over the country club by Lana Del Rey, good old fashioned lover boy by Queen, Just a friend to you by Meghan Trainor, I bet on losing dogs by Mitski, Everything in you by adventure time, What a wonderful world cover by the Brooklyn duo, me and your mama by Childish Gambino, A thousand years by Cristina Perry, Tis the damn season by Taylor Swift, thousand years cover by new found glory, Outset island by Hot freaks, Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo.

#thread the needle #thread the needle masterlist #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #fanfic #first series letss goooo #series masterlist #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Lady Whistledown Returns: Chapter 10

Colin survived his ordeal but has yet to awaken. What will Anthony’s next moves be?

Need to catch up? Find previous chapters and works on AO3.

This chapter has no content warnings.

By the time the sun was setting, the mood in Colin’s bedroom at Bridgerton House was one of exhaustion shot through with relief. On the doctor initially seeing Colin, he had chosen to try to administer a compound to neutralize the venom through the ivory needles. The compound and venom had reacted badly, and the reaction Colin had had was terrifyingly reminiscent of Edmund’s last moments for Anthony and Violet, both of whom had departed reason in the throes of panic. Violet had nearly thrown both Benedict and Simon off of her when they had tried to move her to let the doctor attend to Colin. Eloise had curled into a ball in the corner at the sound of her mother’s screams; nothing Francesca and Daphne could do would rouse her. Gregory and Hyacinth clutched each other’s hands in a different corner of the room, pale-faced and teary-eyed, but out of the way. Kate’s attention was fully on the catatonic Anthony who was slumped over in a chair and not responding to anything.

Slowly, over the next few hours, the reaction calmed, and Colin’s breathing and color improved, if not the swelling about his joints and the fever. By evening, the doctor announced that Colin’s life was not immediately in danger, and he was going to his apothecary to refresh himself and his stock of medications before checking back in early in the morning. Simon saw the man out, as the Bridgertons began to breathe again.

Violet was curled up on the double bed next to Colin, one hand stroking his cheek. She had not stopped whispering to him for hours; what had begun as declarations of love and assurances that he would be alright had slowly morphed into family memories—happy, sad, and anything in between. Her voice was an exhausted thread but she had not stopped.

Between them, Benedict and Kate manhandled Anthony into the space on the bed that was not taken up with Colin or Violet, trying to bring him back to the room and prove to him that Colin was alive and would recover. Kate stayed next to Anthony, and Hyacinth and Gregory moved to sit on the floor next to the bed, in gentle physical contact with Kate and Anthony’s legs, still clutching each other’s hands.

After settling Anthony, Benedict carefully pulled Francesca and Daphne to their feet before lifting a pale-faced, tight-lipped Eloise into his arms. Daphne and Francesca settled on the floor by the bed, with Francesca wrapping arms around Gregory and Hyacinth. Daphne tried to take all three of their hands in one of hers, while setting her free hand on her mother’s back. Benedict settled on the opposite side of Gregory and Hyacinth with Eloise under one of his arms and his free hand on Gregory’s shoulder. Everyone’s heads were leaned into the center of what was becoming a pile of Bridgertons as they listened to Colin’s laborious but steady breathing and Violet’s whispers.

Simon returned, surveyed the pile, briefly kissed Daphne and left the room again. When he returned, it was holding a laden tea tray and accompanied by Sophie, who was holding an equally laden tray.

“The children?” Kate asked quietly, not moving.

“With the maids and nannies,” said Sophie, putting her tray down in front of the Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth pile before taking a tailor’s seat on Eloise’s other side and stroking the girl’s hair while handing Benedict a sandwich. “They’re all right.”

 Simon’s tray went on a small end table that was within reach of the bed. He handed Kate a small plate with a few sandwiches on it, then handed a plate to Daphne before settling in behind her to give her something to lean against.

Eventually, slowly, as the night wore on, the youngest four Bridgertons ate, drank tea, and one by one fell asleep in their pile, with pillows sneaked in by Daphne and Sophie. Simon and Benedict tucked blankets around them. Sometime after midnight, Violet’s voice finally died away, replaced by calm breathing. Her hand still rested on Colin’s hair, and other than covering her with a blanket, nobody so much as tried to move her. Anthony returned to himself about an hour later, as Colin’s breathing became notably less labored.

When he accepted a cup of very cold tea and a sandwich, Kate dropped her head against his chest, whispering something in Hindustani. The last of the tension also drained from Benedict and Daphne when Anthony met their eyes and was clearly there. Daphne, Anthony, and Benedict did not sleep properly that night, and neither did their respective spouses, but all three dozed as false dawn lightened the room, and as the sun rose, the doctor returned as promised.

Surveying the pile of sleepy and sleeping Bridgertons, the doctor looked as though he might snort or roll his eyes disapprovingly, but seemed to think better of it when Anthony raised an eyebrow. Without waking anyone—even Violet—the doctor briskly examined Colin, and nodded decisively when he was finished.

“He will recover,” the doctor said to Anthony. “I expect he will sleep for the rest of today, unless pain wakes him. I shall leave a tincture for pain and one for sleep with your housekeeper. Rest will be the best medicine for him. If he should develop a fever, or if the swelling in his joints gets worse instead of better, send for me.”

“When can we expect him to recover fully?” asked Anthony.

“If it were just a matter of the poor reaction, I would say he would be fully recovered in four, maybe five days. Given the other compounding issues—” the doctor gestured to the purple bruises that had bloomed across Colin’s torso and face, and the knot on his head— “I would imagine a few weeks at the soonest, perhaps two months, if the venom has long-term effects. I admit, I do not know what was used, so I cannot be more specific and I cannot tell you what to look for, except things out of the ordinary. Of course you may send for me if you are concerned, but this is all I can do for now, my lord.”

“Of course. You have my thanks, and that of the Bridgerton family,” said Anthony. Bowing briefly, the doctor turned and left the room, leaving the pile of sleeping Bridgertons and a room that was palpably less tense.

For about a minute.

Anthony placed a gentle hand on Colin’s calf, reassuring himself that his brother was here, was alive, and if not alright just then, on the mend. His eyes hardened when Kate leaned into him, though the arm he snaked around her and the kiss he placed on her hair were gentle.

Slowly, and careful to not disturb Francesca, Gregory, or Hyacinth, Anthony rose and extricated himself from the pile, followed equally delicately by Kate. Eloise had slid into the pile in her sleep, so Benedict was relatively unencumbered when he caught the fury deep in Anthony’s eyes and leapt to follow the Viscount and Viscountess, gesturing to Sophie to stay where she was. Daphne had risen when Benedict did, and she and Simon were hot on Kate and Anthony’s heels as the entire party headed for Anthony’s study.

Standing at the door, Anthony turned to Benedict, Simon, and Daphne. “You are not required; I suggest you return to Colin’s room. The others will require your support when they wake. Mother in particular—”

“Sophie is there, she can look after Mother until we are finished,” said Benedict. “You looked ready to murder someone and I am here to make sure it isn’t Penelope.”

“What?” Anthony and Daphne’s faces were the same shade of red as they yelled simultaneously.

“Get in here before you yell the house down,” ordered Kate, opening the study door and helping Simon chivvy the Bridgertons in. “If you wake the others they’ll be outside this door listening in.”

The door had barely closed when Anthony and Daphne were yelling at Benedict again.

“Were you in the same room as the rest of us all night—”

“You would allow that poison-pen witch to harm this family AGAIN—”

Benedict’s face didn’t redden, but he was more than equal to shouting down any two of his siblings. “Penelope did not hurt Colin, the queen did!”

“She might have stayed her hand had Miss Featherington not provoked her,” bellowed Anthony.

“You cannot possibly know that!”

“She should never have taken the chance,” yelled Daphne. “That is not love, you do not do that to someone you love!”

“Would you have done that if it were Sophie?” Anthony’s tone was cruel. “Surely not, brother. Imagine her lying unconscious on that bed, too pale and in pain. It takes the hard heart of a born harridan to abandon a partner to the crown’s tender mercies!”

“I didn’t have to make that choice, and neither did you, Viscount, so unless you know exactly what Penelope was facing, perhaps we ought not judge and instead focus on the person who gave the order!” Benedict’s hands had fisted at his sides when Anthony described Sophie in Colin’s condition, but he had to remain focused. His wife was fine, Colin would recover. Penelope had been nothing but sincere and terrified and she had no other voice in this room.

“The order was published for the entire ton to see in Lady Whistledown.” Anthony wasn’t yelling anymore, which was somehow more threatening than his bombastic affect. He had moved behind his desk, and was digging aggressively in a desk drawer until he came up with a leather folder that he slammed down on the desk. Leaning forward on the desk over the folder, braced on his knuckles, Anthony caught Benedict’s eyes and held them.

“This is a bill of divorce I intend to present before the Lords. It will accomplish three things.”

Somewhere behind Benedict, Daphne gasped quietly.

“First,” spat Anthony, “it will end this utter sham of a marriage that served to elevate an utterly unworthy, small-hearted bitch into this family and offered her protection at the cost of the safety and reputation of not only Colin, but the entire extended family—your wife and son included, Benedict.”

“She has never harmed—”

“Second,” said Anthony, steamrolling over Benedict’s protest. “It will expose the identity of the author of Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers as Mrs. Colin Bridgerton, nee Featherington. That will open her up to social ridicule and ostracization, which is not required but is rather a side benefit of revealing her identity.”

Thoroughly disconcerted by the savage light in Anthony’s eyes—was he enjoying this?—Benedict turned to Daphne, who was standing tall, face stone, with her hand in Simon’s. Simon’s face was carefully blank, while Kate’s was angry and determined.

“Third—” Anthony chuckled darkly— “the bill offers charges against Miss Featherington for harm to her husband, harm to the Bridgerton family, and criminal conduct against members of the ton. She will be utterly ruined at best, and if we are exceedingly fortunate, she will spend time in gaol. This family will be free of a dangerous actor and Colin will be free to find a wife who loves him.”

Benedict dropped into a chair in shock. “How long have you had this bill sitting in your desk?”

“Since that business with Felix Featherington. Colin refused to leave her then, but I had the bill drawn up anyway, just in case. I am immensely glad that I did; this dreadful business will be over quickly. I shall attend the Lords this afternoon.”

“Without consulting any of the interested parties? At least consult Mother—”

“It is not Mother’s job to protect this family! Did you see her last night, Benedict? If you imagine I will risk her losing a child again when I can prevent it—” he could not even finish the sentence around the fury.

“Then wait one day. Colin did not want to divorce Penelope last time, would you really take the choice away from him now? Would you wish to set that precedent? Would you give someone a reason to take your marriage away from you?” Benedict was rewarded with a miniscule crack in Anthony’s rage, and his older brother’s eyes flicked to Kate. He had to press this, widen that crack. “What if you’re wrong, brother? What if you dissolve Colin’s marriage before he wakes and it was the wrong choice? Do you think he would forgive you for that? I certainly would not.”

Anthony hesitated, for the first time looking uncertain. He paced the room for long moments, while Benedict held his breath. If he could buy enough time, he could save his younger brother’s marriage and gain an ally in focusing on the insupportable behavior of the crown. Finally Anthony slowed, and turned back to Benedict, hands clasped behind his back.

“Much as I would hate to cause Colin further pain, I cannot wait. It is my responsibility to protect this family, and in this case that means removing Miss Featherington from the picture. I will act to protect the family now, and if I must make amends to Colin later, I shall do my utmost in that endeavor.”

“Anthony,” said Daphne, voice hesitant. “Surely one day will not make so much difference. Colin may wish you to remove the request for divorcement from the bill. You can still present the bill with the charges, but it may be best not to meddle with Colin’s marriage without his permission.”

“It cannot be helped, sister. In cases where a family’s reputation is at risk from the actions of a woman who married in, the Lords tend to recommend divorce unless there is evidence that the wider family was complicit, which will not be the case. You cannot think I am wrong to bring a bill before the Lords?”

“Of course I do not, but I would hate to hurt Colin more than we must by failing to consult his feelings.”

“Daph, I feel the same, but it cannot be helped.” Anthony picked up the folder and moved toward the door. Benedict dove between them.

“And who will protect other families of the ton from the queen’s wrath if you go through with this?” he cried. “We are at a tipping point, Anthony. The crown illegally kidnapped and tortured an innocent member of an old, popular, and influential family. Will we excuse it and open the door to other offenses by failing to blame the crown and letting them scapegoat Penelope?”

“Get out of my way,” snapped Anthony. “And if you continue to so strenuously defend her, I might just suspect—” Anthony’s face went white. Benedict’s stomach sank so far that he thought he might have to visit Tartarus to collect it again.

Anthony reached into his jacket, using his arm to hold the folder between elbow and body, and withdrew the issue of Whistledown that had doomed Colin. He studied it for long moments, turning it over in his hands, looking for a printer’s mark and the crown seal that would have been affixed had it been printed under a crown writ. As Benedict well knew, Anthony wouldn’t find either.

“What on earth are you looking for?” asked Daphne.

“There’s no printer’s mark and no seal on this Whistledown,” he whispered. Kate gasped, hand covering her mouth a second too late to muffle the sound. “And the only printing press I am aware of in London that would not require a crown writ to operate now is the one at the academy.” Anthony’s eyes were still glued to the broadsheet in his hands as he spoke. “Benedict…please tell me you had nothing to do with this. Please.” His voice was hoarse and nearly broke on the second “please.”

“You didn’t,” said Daphne, tears in her eyes as Simon’s arms encircled her shoulders. “How could you? Colin could have died.”

“He wouldn’t have if the queen hadn’t kidnapped him in the first place, Daphne,” said Benedict. “And do not deceive yourself into thinking that if Penelope had not published that the queen would not have contrived some reason to hurt him anyway. In a feud like the one between the queen and Lady Whistledown, when you hold the advantage that Colin represented, you use it.”

“You do not think like that,” said Anthony. “Those are not your words, are they? She talked you into helping her, the vicious—”

“Anthony,” interrupted Kate. “Whatever Penelope has done, you cannot treat her like another Eve. The Bridgerton skull is far too thick to be casually tricked or seduced. If you had been listening to your brother’s words, you might see the bigger picture—”

“Of course you would side with her, you both married into this family, both gained significant status and prestige—”

“Finish that sentence and you will find your bed cold until we send Edmund to Eaton,” snapped Kate. “Your fear does not excuse taking that tone with me.”

Anthony actually shut up, face red and jaw working.

“There is the risk of a larger issue,” said Simon, quietly. “The argument about this happening to another ton family is sound. By all means, be furious with Penelope, and if you insist on a bill of divorce, I will not argue, but we must place the blame for Colin’s injuries at the crown’s door. If we do not, what is to stop them kidnapping a child lordling and controlling the estate through them? Kidnapping some lord’s wife?” He squeezed Daphne’s shoulders. “Recall your history, Anthony. The crown cannot be allowed to interfere in the ton without the backing of the rule of law. Chaos and fear follow. Would you have a Reign of Terror on English soil?”

“What would you have me do?” demanded Anthony. “Challenge the crown itself? As if this family hasn’t been in the midst of enough scandal since—well, since Daphne’s first season, frankly!”

“Do not drag me into this,” muttered Daphne.

“And,” Anthony continued, shooting an irritated glance at his sister. “I will not forgive Penelope’s role in this. Perhaps the crown has overstepped, but she is culpable in the feud as well.”

“These are separate issues,” said Benedict. “One is something we can deal with as a family, but we cannot fail society and the ton by failing to call the crown on the carpet.”

“This is exactly why I am the head of this household and you are not,” yelled Anthony. “The risk to the family–”

“Is practically nonexistent,” interrupted Simon. “You would be in the right, Anthony. Do not let your desire to punish Penelope prevent you from seeing that the crown was entirely out of order to kidnap Colin in the first place. Take the Whistledown feud out of the equation for a moment. Who precisely is to blame here?”

Kate was nodding along with Simon’s logic, and even Daphne was looking somewhat discomfited by it, despite her still-clear solidarity with Anthony. Anthony himself had a distinctly mulish look on his face that said louder than words that he knew Simon and Benedict were correct, but said equally loudly that he still had no desire to reconcile with Penelope. 

After a long, tense moment, Anthony slapped the folder back down onto his desk. “I still will not have her anywhere near this house and family, and if Colin gives the slightest indication he no longer wishes to be attached to her, the bill of divorce will go before the Lords.”

“But?” asked Benedict. 

“But I shall have my solicitor draft a new bill to present to Parliament tomorrow, one that condemns the actions of the crown and calls for restitution and measures to prevent this from happening again. Are you all happy now?”

“I will not be happy until Colin wakes up,” said Daphne. “But I am content for the moment. I believe I will go check on Augie and Mama, and then I shall go lie down; last night was not what I would describe as restful.” She swept out of the room, followed by Kate. 

Anthony and Simon spent most of that day ensconced in Anthony’s study with both their solicitors. It was decided that the bill would be stronger if the Duke of Hastings and Viscount Bridgerton presented it jointly, as the argument could be made that both their families had been adversely affected by the actions of the crown. Their positions as members of the Prince Regent’s personal court lent additional weight to a joint presentation.

Benedict stayed for a while, intending to help, but Anthony was snappish with him, still clearly angry over what he saw as Benedict’s role in things. Rather than fight with his older brother, Benedict went back upstairs. Sophie had left–likely to deal with Charles–and Colin and Violet were still sleeping. Eloise lifted her head as he was turning to leave, and Benedict extended a hand to his sister. She took it, and the pair retired to the art room. Benedict filled her in on Colin’s prognosis, and the two shared tea. The rest of the day was spent in the art room; Benedict painted and napped, while Eloise read on the window seat and dozed. 

Eventually, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth also wandered down to find their siblings, and were absorbed into the slow but relatively normal routine of the household. Violet refused to leave Colin’s room, so Kate and Daphne ensured that she had company more often than not. It was not until late that evening, when the solicitors had left and the family had already had dinner that Anthony climbed the stairs to check on his mother and brother. 

He was expecting Colin to have awoken by then, as the doctor had said, but when he entered, Colin was still unconscious. Violet had changed and moved to a comfortable chair beside his bed, but her face was pinched with worry. 

“He hasn’t developed a fever, I’m certain of it,” she said by way of a greeting. “He’s in pain, but I can’t give him anything until he wakes, I won’t risk him choking on the tincture.” As if to underscore Violet’s words, Colin’s face twisted, and stayed that way for a long moment before relaxing slightly.  

“I’m sure he’ll wake again before long,” said Anthony, but Violet was shaking her head before he finished. 

“He hasn’t woken up yet, Anthony. I think that if he does not wake tonight, we ought to consider summoning the doctor again.” She sighed, shaking her head as though she could shed her worry. “But there’s nothing to be done until he wakes up or morning comes.  So in the meantime, you can tell me what you’ve done.”

“Of course.” Anthony pulled a second chair over, sitting across from his mother so he could speak to her while watching his brother’s face. “You shall be pleased to know that I have been working with the solicitor to draft a bill for parliament–”

“About Penelope, Anthony,” interrupted Violet. “It occurred to me that she has not been here, and when I asked, Daphne equivocated as though I was an undesirable suitor with a proposal, and Kate said that was yours to tell. So please, do tell.”

“There is nothing at all to tell,” began Anthony, stiffly.

“Nothing to tell? She is his wife, Anthony. She should be here, she loves him.”

“I think you’ll find the jury is still very much out on that count, mother.”

“Do not snap at me Anthony, not in this room on this day,” warned Violet. “Did you forbid her from being here?” Her eyes widened. “You cannot possibly blame her for this?”

Anthony didn’t meet her eyes. He had spent too many hours going over and over the arguments with the lawyers to comfortably own placing blame at Penelope’s doorstep, but to say that he didn’t blame her anymore would be an outright falsehood. 

“You have had a blessed life, Anthony, if you have never had to face a choice without a bloodless option,” Violet said, gently. “Not everyone is so fortunate. I suspect that Penelope has faced more of those choices than any young woman should have to.”

“But she did have a choice,” said Anthony. 

“Yes, she did, and I suspect that having a choice makes dealing with such options even more difficult. Do you remember the night Hyacinth was born? The choice that dreadful doctor asked you to make?”

Anthony shuddered; the magnitude of the choice that the man had insisted he make had been unimaginable. “But I made the choice, mother. I told him to do what you wanted.”

“Dearest, you did not make a choice that night. Hyacinth and I came through, but you did not make a choice. You declined to choose. That is not a statement of blame or of judgment,” said Violet quickly, as Anthony raised his head to respond sharply. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you could decline that choice. You were so young, Anthony, and had you made that choice, I suspect you would have never recovered. You are a wonderful Viscount, and you are measured and careful in the choices you make to lead this family. But you also go to extraordinary lengths to ensure that you do not have to make choices like that.” 

Colin’s face twisted again, and he moaned deep in the back of his throat. Violet and Anthony watched his face, both tense. Colin’s face could not be said to relax in the next few moments, but he seemed to get used to the pain, and when he did not moan again, Violet let out a breath. She stroked his sweat-matted curls almost absently as she resumed speaking.

“Penelope could not have declined the choice she was given. She could either let Colin languish in indefinite captivity or she could make such a hue and cry that there would be no choice but to release him. To decline to choose would be the same as choosing to leave him there. In all honesty, I do not know what choice I would have made, but I did not face that choice. I am grateful that Penelope had the strength to choose, and that she chose to love my son enough to make the choice that brought him home to us.” 

Anthony found that he could not swallow around the lump in his throat. “Why do things of such magnitude always seem simpler after we speak?”

Violet simply smiled, hovering her hand a mere whisper above Colin’s hands and then his elbows, checking to see if the joints were still hot with inflammation. The smile did not disappear, but it did become strained. 

“These are not improving, Anthony.”

“If he does not wake tonight, I promise I will personally summon the doctor. Should I have some ice fetched for now?”

Violet and Anthony spent the rest of the night with Colin, trying to ice the tender, swollen joints without causing him more pain. Every Bridgerton sibling poked their head in the room at least once during the night, and by morning, Daphne, Eloise, and Benedict had taken over icing duties from their exhausted mother and eldest brother. 

Even the slight pressure of ice chips wrapped in handkerchiefs laid atop his elbows, wrists, and hands made the still-unconscious Colin cry out in pain, so they had been careful to put them next to him rather than over top of the affected areas. Daphne somewhat limply opined that it was better than nothing, but even she did not believe her words. 

As full morning broke, Anthony summoned the doctor again. The poor man nearly had to be dragged into the room by Simon and Anthony, and his brisk examination of the patient revealed no new insights. The man did not quite openly admit that he had no idea what to do, but the somewhat hysterical list of patent medicines he rattled off to try was a bit of a giveaway—particularly as one of them was meant to ease a difficult birth. They would simply have to wait for Colin to wake up on his own. 

#polin #bridgerton #the polin fic #polin fic #polin fanfic #polin fanfiction #colin bridgerton and penelope feathertington #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope bridgerton #penelope featherington

[rorywritesjunk]

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. There’s 3 new characters thrown in because why not? Future Wife gets a name as well! A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I just started on the 4th chapter but I’m excited to write it out! I had fun with the original fic and decided to write the prequel to how they met. Enjoy!

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 4

The girls refused to speak to you because of how you defended Buggy. They still thought he was rude and didn’t like him, and they didn’t understand why you’d defend him. They were also mad because not only did they have to clean the kitchen twice that night, but Miss Pins had them sort fabric scraps by color before organizing all the threads the same way over the last few weeks. The final act of punishment was organizing all the pins and needles by length and gauge. 

They didn’t think it was fair. 

Had you been in charge you would have dismissed them from their apprenticeships entirely. 

Yes, Buggy was loud, had been rude each visit to you and Miss Pins but he was a pirate and all the shop’s customers were pirates. A lot of them were rude to you and Miss Pins, some even threatening, but he was also becoming a repeat customer and overpaid you each time, and when you brought it to the attention of Miss Pins, she let you keep the extra amount because you took on helping him. 

Honestly, and you didn’t want to admit it to your boss just yet, but you liked Buggy. So far he hadn’t tried to flirt with you, act inappropriately, or threaten you. Countless others had since the day you started as an apprentice. Miss Pins was protective of her girls, having no problem pointing a gun at any pirate creeps should they make her apprentices uncomfortable. Buggy was loud, demanding, but he wasn’t a creep.

It had been a month since you last saw Buggy and you figured that you weren’t going to see him again. Why would he return to the shop after what the girls had said? You felt bad about it and wished you could have talked with him a bit more, but he took off so fast that you didn’t get a chance to. 

You still had his socks that you fixed for him and even secured him an extra pair. Maybe he’d stop by to pick them up? You weren’t going to hold out a lot of hope. No doubt he would be on his ship, sailing for treasure or adventure, forgetting about the incident a month ago. 

Hopefully.

The shop was closed for the evening but you were still working when you saw him again. You wanted to get extra work done before taking a few days for yourself to celebrate your birthday. The girls originally wanted to do something with you but now that they weren’t talking to you, you got to do whatever you wanted. 

You were going to go to a nearby lake and feed the ducks while enjoying a packed lunch. 

The pounding at the door startled you. You grabbed a broom to protect yourself as you approached it and looked through the peephole. You saw the bright red nose and immediately relaxed as you opened the door, smiling at him as he stood on the doorstep.

“We’re closed, you know.” You told him teasingly. “We’re not a clinic where you can stop by whenever you need me to fix something.”

He looked flustered as he tried to think of a response, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the shop, closing the door behind him as you headed back to your work. He followed after you, looking around at the different bolts of fabric on shelves, the trays of thread, and several dresses that hung on a rack behind the counter. You took a seat and gestured to the other chair as you picked your sewing back up.

“You left your socks, you know.” You said as you passed the needle through the fabric. You were finishing up another dress for a customer, attaching the bodice and skirt together with piping along where the two pieces met. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back for them.”

Buggy sat down and crossed his arms, turning his attention to what you were doing. Your fingers were careful as you worked, your fingernails guiding along the piping to keep it in place as you sewed. He didn’t think you actually made things, just repaired them, so he watched you for a moment before responding.

“I had other socks.” He mumbled as you removed a pin and stuck it into your little pin cushion. “I… was going to come back.” He glanced up at your face, seeing the look of concentration, and looked back down at your work. “Why are you up so late?”

“Why are you at the shop late?” You countered as you stuck a pin in your mouth before repositioning the fabric. He hesitated and looked away. “Surely not for your socks, Buggy.”

“I… was out on a walk.” He replied as he clenched his jaw. “And I saw the light on and thought maybe you were being robbed.”

You took the pin out of your mouth and stuck it back through the layers of fabric. “And you knocked so kindly.”

“I don’t have-”

He stopped himself and took a deep breath, trying not to overreact. You were just teasing him, trying to rile him up, but there was no malice in your voice. He looked back at you and saw you were smiling at him and his heart skipped a beat and his face was warm. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I just wanted to stop by and… say hi. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Well, hello and good evening then.” You chuckled. “What would you have done if Miss Pins answered the door with her shotgun?”

“I’m not scared of her!” Buggy shot back. You looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“Good evening, boss.” 

Buggy spun around, eyes wide, but you laughed. There was no one there. Oh, you were cruel. He turned back around and glared at you. You were still laughing as you set your sewing down. Buggy huffed and looked away from you with a glare on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry.” You giggled as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “As for your question about why I’m up so late… My birthday is in two days so I want to get as much work done as possible so I can relax.”

“Oh, birthday?” He repeated. Girls liked getting gifts. Should he get you a gift? Why would he get you one? He looked back at you as you picked your sewing back up now that you had calmed down from laughing. What kind of gift would he get you if he was to get you something? He was a pirate, he could go find some treasure and give half to you, but would that be weird? Why was he even considering that?

“Mhm.” You nodded. “I’m going to go feed and watch the ducks and have lunch.”

“Ducks?” Buggy laughed. Ducks were not exciting, but if you liked them, he would take you all around to show you all the ducks in the world if you wanted. “Just duck watching, that’s it?”

“Yea.” You frowned when he laughed. It wasn’t really anything to laugh about. You didn’t need to do something exciting to enjoy yourself, just sitting and taking it easy was enough. “It’s something I like to do, Buggy.”

“It’s your birthday, though! You should be going out and doing something fun!” He said. “Drinking, having a party, something like that! Go on a raid or something!”

“I’m not a pirate, Buggy.” You reminded him as you looked back at your sewing. “I’d rather do something quiet.”

He leaned back in his seat and watched you with a frown. You lived in a town frequented by pirates, you had to be used to what they got up to, so why would you want to do something as boring as watching ducks? Maybe you were just never given the opportunity to do something fun. Buggy would change that.

“How about we-”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence because he saw you look up, eyes widening at something behind him. He wasn’t going to fall for that again so he rolled his eyes. “The old hag’s not there, so don’t try and trick me again.”

THWACK

“Get the hell out of my shop!” Miss Pins barked as she raised the broom up again. “Do you realize how late it is?!” 

Buggy fell out of the chair and dodged the blows from her broom. He almost made it to the door before she threw it at his feet, tripping him up as he scrambled. She stormed over to him and grabbed the door, pulling it open before pointing out. 

“It’s too late for you to be coming around!” She snapped as he hurried out the door, but not before he looked back at you for a split second. You were still in your chair, looking rather amused by the whole exchange. At least you weren’t frowning at him anymore. Maybe he could sneak back around for your birthday. He just needed to find out where the ducks would be.

Miss Pins slammed the door behind him before rounding on you. “Stop encouraging him!” 

“I haven’t done anything!” You exclaimed. “I’m just being nice to him!”

“That’s encouraging him! I don’t need another lovesick pirate after you, Sunny! He’s as bad as the last one!” Miss Pins snapped. “I can’t keep chasing these pirates off!”

“He’s not like the last one!” You shot back. “And he’s not lovesick, he just needs a friend, Miss Pins. It’s not like he’s asking me to marry him every time he sees me!”

Your boss glared at you as she locked the door and picked up the broom. The last one wasn’t like that until the fifth visit, where he had demanded you to marry him while you were fixing his coat. You were only 19, the man was almost ten years your senior and if your boss hadn’t been there, who knows where you would have ended up. She wasn’t going to lose you then to that man and she wasn’t about to lose you to some nobody pirate. 

“He’s not welcome here anymore.” Miss Pins told you. “And next time you see him you tell him that.”

She left after that, returning upstairs without another word, leaving you alone to think about what she said.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

[whynotaskmagiconch]

Wukong and Romance

Many people asked whether Wukong in the original story ever had romantic feelings for someone. The answer is no. However, in chapters 72 and 73 of Journey to the West, the author gives us room for imagination in a metaphorical way. The following quotes are all from Anthony C. Yu's translation of Journey To The West.

First, at the beginning of chapter 74, the author says “we were telling you about Tripitaka and his disciples, who broke through the web of desires and leaped clear of the stronghold of passions.” This sums up the story metaphor of chapters 72 and 73.

The original text in Chinese is: “话表三藏师徒们打开欲网，跳出情牢。”

“欲网”——the web of desire/lust, refers to the spider webs of the seven spider spirits.

“情牢”——literally means “prison/cage of love”. In Chinese, there are many interpretations of “情”. It can indicate passion, but more often it refers to love and romance.

So, this sentence can also be translated to “we were telling you about Tripitaka and his disciples, who broke through the web of desires and leaped off the cage of love.” 

If the spider webs represent the web of desires, then what represents the cage of love? The answer is the golden beams of the centipede spirit. 

Interestingly, the web of desires could not trap Wukong:

“From their navels threads and cords poured out, which became, in no time at all, a huge awning that had Pilgrim entirely covered down below. Sensing that the tide was turning against him, Pilgrim at once recited a spell and somersaulted right through the top of the awning to escape.”

In contrast to Eight Rules (Pigsy) in desire:

“The moment he moved his legs, he began to stumble: he headed to the left and his face hugged the ground; he went to the right and he fell head over heels; he turned around and his snout kissed the earth; he scrambled up only to do a handstand. He tumbled over countless times until his body turned numb and his legs flaccid, until his head swam and his eyes could not see straight. Unable even to crawl, all he could do was lie on the ground and moan.”

This is a very accurate depiction of what a person looks like when they are in lust. However, although Wukong can easily jump out of the web of lust, when he faces the cage of love, things are different:

“Terribly flustered, Pilgrim spun around and around in the golden beams, unable even to take a step forward or backward. It was as if he had been imprisoned inside a barrel. As the blast of heat became unbearable, he got desperate and leaped straight up into the air to try to pierce the golden beams. The beams were too strong, however, and he was sent hurtling back to the ground head over heels. Then he felt pain, and when he touched quickly that part of his head where it had rammed the golden beams, he could feel that the skin had softened somewhat.”

We know that Wukong represents the Heart and Mind. In English, the phrase "feel butterflies in the stomach" is often used to describe the feeling of being in love. But in Chinese, we use the term "小鹿乱撞" to describe this feeling, which means the heart in love is like a flustered deer, not knowing where to go, spinning and bumping around. I would love to know if there is a similar phrase in English.

Anyway, look at the state of Wukong in the golden beams, just like a heart in love. Wukong is a heart that has been tempered and hardened like steel. But when trapped in love, a strong heart like him becomes soft, feels pain, and can only flee in desperation. The golden beams had only 10 miles, but he escaped for 20 miles before he dared to come out. And what happens after he escapes? Is the heartbreak healed? The original text says “力软筋麻，浑身痛疼，止不住眼中流泪。”——“he was overcome by fatigue, his whole body ached, and he can't stop the tears in his eyes.” Even after escaping from love, the heart is still tired, ached, and can’t stop crying.

So, what is the way to break the cage of love? In the story, it is a needle cultivated from the eye of “The Star Lord Orionisa” “昴日星官”, a rooster that looks at the rising sun to announce the dawn day after day. At the same time, the sundial, which represents the time, also has a needle standing on it. So, It is not enough to just run away, only time can crack the love prison and heal the heart, which is a very romantic expression.

But it must be remembered that this is only metaphorical and allegorical. It has nothing to do with the main storyline. It does not mean that in this story Wukong is falling in love. And it is only one of the interpretations. Journey to the West is a novel rich in connotation and with many ways of interpretation. Although Sun Wukong never shows any interest in romance in the original story, the author does leave us with such interesting reveries. I hope you find this interesting!

#journey to the west #jttw #sun wukong #monkey king #xiyouji

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - Chapter 10

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | Next | First | AO3 ]

Log date: 10:20. 7th month, 1st day. 104AC Location: Talus Plateau, East Lanayru Great Spring Weather: Clear skies, some wind

Found another geoglyph. Couldn’t help myself. Mapped out the path from the wetlands up the river to Zora’s Domain and planned to go straight there. But then I climbed into the Skyview Tower in Upland Zorana and saw it. 

It’s a Zonai Secret Stone, though not the next one in the sequence. That would be the kneeling figure, due west, in Gerudo. But I thought… who hasn’t skipped ahead in a book they’re reading, or asked a friend to get to the good bit of a story they’re telling? Can’t hurt to have a little foreknowledge.  

Wondering now if it was worth the detour. In the vision, Rauru gave the ancient sages the secret stones, and asked for their help to fight the Demon King. It’s nothing we didn’t hear from the sages of Wind and Fire already. That said, the war didn’t seem to be going well. Have to wonder how close they came to defeat. And if Zelda really did fight alongside them. No - who am I kidding? She would have, every step of the way. 

I just hope… she didn’t get hurt. Once, a very long time ago, I swore a vow to never let that happen. And all I want right now is to keep it. But I can’t do that if she’s stuck in the past — unless a vow can stretch that far across time, back to before it was even made? Or did I break it, the moment I let her hand slip through mine? 

Have wasted enough time already. Will make it to Zora’s Domain before tomorrow even if I have to walk all night.

A photograph of a dragon tear, taken just as it falls momentarily upwards. Reflected in the waters of the tear is Link’s face, captivated.

Caption: Need to find more of these. 

---

Log date: 9:50. 7th month, 2nd day. 104AC Location: Dento’s Workshop, Zora’s Domain Weather: Muddy

Arrived in the Domain a bit past midnight. Booked a water bed, rupee pouch be damned. Feel great though. Not a single muscle aching.

Listening to the click clack of Master Dento’s fine tools as he repairs my Zora armour. Occasionally he whips out a sewing needle, to thread arowana scales into the mesh. Asked him what those do and he said ‘Nothing, if I can’t focus.’ Point taken. So here I am tap-tapping away on the Purah Pad, making no noise and not distracting anyone. 

Regret not coming to Zora’s Domain sooner. Situation’s dire — their water’s been poisoned. It’s as vital to them as air. Worse, Sidon and Dorephan aren’t here. Sidon has gone to Mipha Court to purify the water flowing into the Domain. And Dorephan, no one would say. No one seems to even know. If it weren’t for Lady Yona helping heal the sick — I don’t know. It’d be catastrophic. 

Though, not as catastrophic as the earful Zelda might give Sidon for not telling us he was engaged. (Happy for him, of course.) Just hope she’s back before their wedding. We’ve been to a couple, mostly small, simple affairs. Zelda’s a great dancer, and it makes her laugh that I’m not… 

All the more reason to sort out this sludge. Dento’s nearly done. I better leave him in peace. The side eye he’s giving me is so sharp it physically kind of hurts. 

A photograph of said side-eye, as Master Dento scowls at the camera. In his hands is an expertly crafted Zora chest-piece. On the workbench is a spread of metal working tools of every shape and size. 

Caption: Will have to give him my last rupees as thanks, when he’s done. 

---

Log date: 17:30. 7th month, 2nd day 104AC Location: Mikau Lake, Upland Zorana Weather: Mud continuing. 

Zelda, Zelda, Zelda. What have you been up to? 

First you appear at Hyrule Castle and spook all of the soldiers, then you’re on Stormwind Ark just as it unleashes a deadly blizzard, then you give Yunobo a mask that turns him against us, and now, apparently, you’ve attacked a King.

I don’t like where this is going. I don’t like not knowing where this is going. Because Zelda, I’m starting to think terrible things. You coming back different is one thing. Coming back evil is another. 

I do know what I saw, at least. After following a trail of clues (ancient stone tablets, eavesdropping on children, the usual), I found Dorephan hidden in a secret cave. He’s in a bad way. He said you set a sludge monster on him, Zelda. I can’t even picture it, but why would he lie? 

Anyway. You should know Sidon has been wearing himself thin trying to protect his people. He literally can’t stop, or the whole Domain will be poisoned. And then they will be without a home and a King. Those don’t sound like the consequences of well meaning actions to protect Hyrule, do they? In fact, nothing I’ve seen you do in the present seems right, anymore. 

I’m not angry, just… confused. I’ll find the truth, as much as I don’t want to. I know that you’d do the same for me. 

A photograph of Zora’s Domain taken from the cliffs of Upland Zorana. The waters are murky and discoloured, in contrast to the pristine stone masonry and metalwork of Zora’s Domain itself. 

Caption: This couldn’t have been on purpose, right?

--- 

Log date: 13:00. 7th month, 3rd day 104AC Location: Ancient Zora Waterworks  Weather: Damp

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote Three Our Quest to Defeat The Treacherous Sludge As told by Prince Sidon

I, Sidon, have asked the Hylian Link, my dearest friend, if I may dictate my musings on the past few weeks so that they may be written on a twelfth Zora stone monument.

Link, who I treasure above all Hylians, is dutifully transcribing the words I am saying onto his small glowing device. He calls it a … a what pad? Who is Purah? No, no, don’t write that. I will continue now. Thank you Link. 

On the terrible day of the Upheaval, vile sludge began pouring from the skies. It seemed to fall from islands suspended in the air, but how could this be? No such islands had ever before been seen. 

Despite the terror of that day, I felt great pride in my heart, for the Zora dove headfirst into action. The soldiers evacuated people from the water. My father departed with Muzu at once to investigate. And my dear Lady Yona began healing any who had been injured. 

As Prince of the Zora, I went immediately to Mipha Court, so named for my beloved sister who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect our home. There I hoped to fortify our sacred wellsprings and divert as much of the sludge as I could. It was there I remained, day and night, for many weeks.

Just as my faith was waning, who would appear but my truest friend - Link! I sent him to treat with our historian, Jiahto, and to find my father, the great King Dorephan.

Imagine! My horror at hearing that my father had been attacked by a monster, set upon him by Princess Zelda herself! Almost as much as my shock at hearing a pillar of light had appeared in the Eastern Reservoir! Spurred on by caring words from my beloved Yona, I departed with Link to investigate. 

Beneath the reservoir, we have found a large cavern that appears to house an ancient waterworks. I believe this concealed place was used by my ancestors to control the waters flowing from the Domain, so that all of Hyrule could benefit. To think, we stand now, in a place built by those who may have founded Zora’s Domain itself! 

Our quest is not yet complete, for the sludge still sullies my home. However Link, a great adventurer, believes we are ‘on the right track’, as he says in his charming Hylian vernacular. 

I, Prince Sidon, swear to not rest until all the sludge has been vanquished and the people of Zora’s Domain are safe once again! 

Okay. Phew. How did that sound? Thrilling, I hope! Have you finished eating your lunch? I’m not hungry, but thank you. Link, you can stop writing now. Link, I have finished my tale. I am serious. Link. LINK.

A hurriedly taken photograph of Prince Sidon of the Zora, who is reaching for the Purah Pad with an incredulous look on his face. The photograph is a little blurred, as the photographer was laughing while trying to take it. 

Caption: Priceless. 

---

Log date: 01:38. 7th month, 5th day 104AC Location: Zora’s Domain  Weather: Clear skies, mild

Well well where to start. First, they had the wedding. Sidon and Yona. Maybe six hours after we got back. I went to get my things and next I knew .. wahoo! A wedding! Secondly, lots of wine, at this wedding. Is it safe for Zora to drink wine? Maybe it’s Zora wine. Made of fish?

Could write this in the morning but you know, why not now? Now is good. There’s music, mostly flutes, people are dancing, eating, and drinking. I sure have been. Not the dancing, the other bits. 

Anyway, the log notes. We defeated the Mucktorok! But also, before that, Sidon and I, best bud Sidon, we activated a big waterfall and swam up to the Water Temple. Another waterworks, in the sky. Not as dramatic as a ghost ship or a volcano but, whatever. Oh but, but but but, this one — makes you float. You’d jump and whoosh , you’d be flying through the air, lighter than silk. Or a feather. Or something else that floats. 

We coasted through that place in no time. Four puzzles? Easy as pie. Pie. Wonder if there’s fish pie here. Porgy pie, with lemon, and dill. I’m starving. 

…

Okay, back with lemon cake. Not exactly what I was picturing but it was free. Or if they were charging they didn’t catch me. Anyway the Mucktorok. That thing was awful. Thank Hylia for Sidon’s water powers. Made quick work of it. We struck it down in minutes, and then it exploded, because of course it did. Why do monsters do that? Sidon took it all in his stride. He’s the Water Sage now. And the King. Big day for him, in particular. 

Sidon promised to help find Zelda. He said there must be a Zelda in the past and a Zelda in the present. Two Zeldas? Sure. Anything’s possible. Will think about that… tomorrow. 

Sidon and Yona got married, it was sweet. Sidon cried during the ceremony, and thanked me in his speech afterwards. Wahoo. Then came the toasts. Every Zora and his grandfather made a toast. Long live the King! Raise a glass! I’ll drink to that! And now my head… is very wobbly. Kind of like that floating temple, up in the up, up there. Very wobbly. 

Up, up. Down, down. I am going down. To bed. Yes, to bed. I am going to go to bed. Goodnight. 

A self-portrait of Link and a group of Zora revellers. Zora’s Domain is decorated brightly with glowing lanterns, ribbons and silverware. There is indeed music and dancing at the wedding, as Zora from all over the Domain have converged at the main plaza to celebrate. Link is drinking from a small silver chalice that overtops with wine. 

Caption: Don’t tell Zelda. 

#totk #tears of the kingdom #zelink #legend of zelda #link #sidon #tears of the kingdon fanfiction #my writing #yah i know the light dragon isnt in this chapter i just liked the photo i took LOL

[clatoera]

Always Remember We’re Burned for Better Chapter 14: Who You Are Is Not What You Did

Welcome back my friends! Not much to say this week, other than aren’t you proud of me for updating in seven days! Thats a big deal for me (who slipped into 10-14 day updates). 

AO3

Masterpost

Title from Innocent (Taylor’s Version)

Here. Have some Glim Glam. And Cato. With a gun. 

I feel like I shouldn’t even tag the besties this week because this chapter is so fucking random but. I guess I will. @ohhowwehavefallen cato with a gun is for you and you alone. @kentwells look i tagged the right blog this time. 

Time does not pass in District Thirteen. Well, of course it does but at the same time it does not. Monotony and Isolation do not make for the easy passage of time, when minutes blend to days blend to weeks. Glimmer isn’t even sure if it’s been weeks or if it’s been months. The only confirmation of passage of time is when she catches her reflection in a window, on the way to various mandatory (Mandatory for most, unless you are Cato who refuses and throws a punch at the first possible opportunity when someone attempts to grab him and force him) gathers. She can catch the roots of her hair, imperceptible to some, but to her she can see the shimmering platinum dyed tones in her hair growing out to the more natural golden tone. It wasn’t much but as a girl who grew up with the priority on her appearance– she could recognize it as at least four weeks since their initial capture.

This is what the world has come to. Calculating weeks of isolation based on the roots of platinum blonde hair.

That’s okay. He had always liked her golder hair better–

No, Glimmer, don’t think of him. You can’t live for the people who aren’t here.

She’s got her legs tucked under her again, criss crossed with her right foot atop her left knee, as she’s bent nearly entirely in half with a piece of thread and an old, blunted sewing needle in the other.  She stitches together her sheets, with an invisible seam she runs down the length of them.

“Are you trying to make a sleeping bag over there, Glim Glam.” Comes grumbling from her room (cell?) mate, the one the only Cato Hadley, who is quite literally doing nothing but laying on his back and staring into the gray abyss of the ceiling. “You need that comfort of feeling like you’re in the arena to be able to sleep?”

“You’re one to talk about sleeping, Cato.” Glimmer murmurs to herself, having been kept up by the constant thrashing, tossing, and turning, of the man throughout the duration of the night. If she had to guess he’s probably getting two, three interrupted hours a night. Ask how she would know.  “No. I need something to do, I’m just..practicing making a dress.”

Cato props himself up at that, craning his neck to look over at her across the dull room. “They gave you a needle? They won’t even give me a fork.” A knife, of course, is so far out of the question it isn’t even funny. It makes sense, of course, and neither of them had been given the privilege of more than a spoon at mealtimes. “Aren’t they afraid you’ll stab someone’s eyes out?”

“I guess they figure the worst thing I would do is stab my own eyes. Or, you . Which, who here would really complain about that?” Her fingers slide the thread through the low-quality cotton, bringing the makeshift hem to a proper, even line. “I can’t have a fork either, by the way. Seems stupid, doesn’t it? You kill people with your bare fucking hands.. like you need a weapon to do damage. “

“It doesn't seem to take much to be in charge here.” Cato remarked, before he lays back down on his flimsy mattress, which has to have an imprint of him by now due to how much time he spends laying there, lifeless on the mattress. “What do you mean you’re making a dress? Since when do you..sew?”

Glimmer nods, pulling the needle from where she holds it in her lips. “It would’ve been my talent. Dresses. You know, before they decided my talent was just my body.” She flips her wrist over, forming an elaborate loop on the bottom edge of the sheet in her hand. “Then, of course, Firegirl got to claim it. As if she even thought about those designs she was passing off on her own.” It was as if her eye roll was audible in her voice, from the way she heard Cato laugh over it. “I wanted to make pretty dresses. Wedding dresses..tour dresses for victors…like the ones Clove was wearing on her tour. That green dress she was in when you came to one–wow.”

“....that was my favorite one, too.” He admits, and the soft tone in his voice tells Glimmer he’s remembering it now, the ivy embroidery that had covered her skin. “The only thing Clove and I can stitch is each other. I guess that was our talent, too.”

“What would you have picked, if you had gotten to?” She continues, flipping her fabric over to reveal a fairly functional looking skirt. Immediately she rips out the seams so that she can start over with her fabric. She begins again, threading the dull needle with thread, before repeating her exact lace as before.

“No idea. I..honestly never gave much thought to life after the games, Glimmer. I just planned to be a trainer. Be with Clove. I dunno, have a couple of kids, I never gave much thought to what I'd do to entertain the masses.” Cato brings his hands behind his head, propping his head in the palms. This is all he does anymore, it feels like. Fidgets into new positions, slowly slipping closer to the edge of madness in this bare room, not knowing the fate of anyone he loves, not knowing the fate of the world. “Clove..hers would’ve been cooking. God she was so good at it.”

“Is. She is good at it.” Glimmer corrects gently, having forced herself only to speak in the positives, to cling to any semblance of hope that they are still alive out there. “I never understood the big deal with food.”

“You’ve never had hers, god Clove made the BEST breakfast, and she’d make this sauce for steak that was just so fucking good. She was just good at everything she ever did.” Cato nearly smiles, just barely, when he talks of her, when the memories of early mornings before her training slipped into his mind. “After the games, damn, we had the best time trying new things. She had this fascination with avocados, we never even had those before I won, and I accidentally bought a whole like..crate of them. One avocado seemed so small, I thought they were like a grape, I don’t know. She liked them a lot, though.”

“I wasn’t allowed to do all of that.” Glimmer explains, setting her pile of sheets and thread by the foot of her bed before leaning back herself, joining him in his staring at the ceiling. “I’ve been on strict, strict, strict diets honestly…my whole life. It seems funny, you know, that people in the lower districts don’t have enough to eat, but I just…wasn’t allowed to. Have to maintain the Capitol’s favorite product, you know?”

“Yeah, well, you still don’t eat anything.”

“Yeah, that’s on purpose, Cato.”

He snorts.  “Is that your grand plan? Starve yourself to death? I expected better from you, Glim Glam.”

“They can’t force me to stay alive.” She retorts, though she knew if they really cared to they would. Afterall, they do it to Katniss. Not that they’d care about her, a problematic career girl.

“Sure they can. They do it to us all.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, Cato. You lay in that bed all fucking day, and sleep maybe two hours at night. You’re going to kill yourself by sheer fucking exhaustion.”

“What else am I supposed to do? Go play friends with Katniss? Have lunch with Finnick? Is that what you do? I don’t really want to live in a world without her, either, Glimmer, but at least I'm not actively starving myself out.“

Glimmer curls into herself, at that. This infighting, this bickering, it was not going to get them anywhere. They were each other’s only allies, now, and this was getting them nowhere. These childlike arguments did not serve them.

“....it’s hard to live for the idea of someone coming back, you know? When we have no proof that they’re alive. It’s not like I really want to live in a world after this, Cato, if he isn’t here.”

“And you think I want to go back to Two without her, Glimmer? Fuck no. But I’m not actively trying to slowly die while waiting for her. You’re the one who keeps telling me to talk about her in the present, but you’re the one actively trying to just..give up. I’m not telling you to live for him, but yeah, I am.”  Cato pulls himself to a seated position, facing her bed directly. He wants to be angry, he wants to be livid at her, but she just looks so..small? Pathetic? Hopeless? “If that is all we have we have to hold on to it.”

“She’ll kill you if you die before she gets back.” Glimmer half teases, though any playful edge is gone from her voice. It wasn’t like this was unusual. She slipped into a semi catatonic state once a week, it felt like. They managed to alternate days– who went off the deep end which day changed as quickly as the weather.

“Then how about we don’t die before they get back.” He gently teased in response, watching Glimmer roll onto her side, facing away from him.

If he had it in him, he’d comment on the way her shoulders are shaking softly, a tell tale sign she’s resigned to crying to herself again. It wasn’t uncommon, necessarily, he just didn’t have it in him to fight this time, to try to reassure her when he could not even reassure himself.

“When this is all over, when we’re back home.. You’ll have to let Clove change your mind about food.” He offers as a verbal truce, before laying back down on his own side. “I can’t wait to eat anything but the same dry, flavorless chicken over and over and over. They fed us better in the academy, and even that was fucking awful.”

Glimmer sniffles, wiping her tears out of her eyes, trying to catch her breath before she lets herself respond. “I’d like that. So would Marvel. He loves all things food.” She kicks the sheets up over her feet, turning her once makeshift dress back into the sheets that they are.  “He’s so funny, you know, everyone thought that would be his talent. And yeah, trust me, he could make anyone laugh but he’s good at so many other things! He used to make me these beautiful flower arrangements and he was so good at writing and you’d never know but he hates blood outside the games– he was a lot more than just funny, that's all.”

“....is. Glimmer. He is.”

-

A fingertip’s worth of roots have grown out of her hair by the time she can stomach talking to Finnick Odair.

He’s stored behind a door just like hers, only alone. For a second she wonders why Cato and Finnick were not boarded together, when she remembers that they'd probably rather she and Cato both be dead by this point anyway. They probably hoped they’d off each other before this point.

“You look terrible.” Is the very first thing she says to him following her attempt on his life a month prior. “So much for the prize of the Capitol.”

“I could say the same about you. I’ve never seen you without the fresh highlights.” He offers in response, though he does not even look up from his hands. She realizes almost immediately what he is doing, when his fingers twist over and over into each other.

“You gonna hang yourself with one of those?” Glimmer invites herself in, perching herself at the foot of his bed. “Seems like a waste of fabric.”

“It’s all my fault.” Finnick whispers, and for the first time Glimmer realizes he is rocking back and forth almost imperceivable. Well, imperceivable to someone who hasn’t spent hours and hours of their lives sharing traumatic experiences. “It’s my fault they got her.”

“Who? Annie? No, Finnick..they woulda got her anyway. It’s not your fault.” Now is it his fault the four of the careers had split up, not knowing what was coming? Yes.

“It is. They got her. If I had never said her name–”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. They would have gone after her, anyway, Finnick. She wasn’t going to be safe.” Her heart cried for the sweet girl. She wasn’t mad, no, not at all. Who amongst them hadn’t experienced severe trauma in the arena.

“I wanted to tell you.” Finnick croaks out, lacing his fingers together faster and faster, tying knots at record speed. “They told me one and two..you guys couldn’t be trusted. I wanted to tell you.” There's a shameful quality to his voice, as if he genuinely did feel terrible for not telling her sooner, as if he did in fact regret not inviting her into this secret alliance.

“After all we had gone through..you still believed I couldn’t be trusted?” Glimmer half whispers, reaching out to take the other end of the fabric, where she simply chose to braid it instead. “You were there the worst days of my life. You were there with me through all of it. You taught me about the meds to knock myself out, you warned me about–”

“I know. And I’m sorry, Glimmer. I am. It was bigger than me, but I'm sorry.” He can’t look up at her, cannot see the agony behind her eyes, the loss of joy that has been building for seven years finally coming to a head. “It’s my fault they’re there, I know.”

“It is. But you can’t change it now. I want to hate you, Finnick. I want to hate you, but then I remember being seventeen and terrified and in pain and you being the only one who could sit with me while I cried in the shower. I want to hate you but you were the one who carried me home after those terrible procedures, every time I cried because I thought I was bleeding to death, Finnick... I want to hate you but it’s hard to hate you when you look so pathetic.” Glimmer takes the risk, reaching her hand out to place it on top of Finnick’s. “How can I hate you, after we ended up in the same terrible sinking boat again.”

“I am sorry.” He repeats, and Glimmer starts to wonder if this is the broken record he’s been giving to everyone in thirteen recently. “I’m sorry to them, too.”

“You weren’t the one who left them behind.”  Glimmer concedes, dropping the other end of his fabric knot contraption. “You know, I’m impressed, Katniss is still putting up that little show for Peeta. Guess she’s a better actress than I remembered.”

“It’s not all an act, Glimmer. You weren’t there, you should have seen how she acted when that video of Peeta came on.”

Right. Peeta Mellark and his pro-capitol propaganda video. How could she forget? They had been in isolation, as usual, when it was aired. All they knew is they could hear the screaming from their locked unit. Whatever he had said had upset the masses, and had brought Katniss Everdeen to the proverbial edge.

“You shouldn’t hate her so much, Glimmer. She made the deal to pardon Clove and Marvel, too.”

Right, how could she forget. Part of her terms and conditions had involved the pardon of all living victors, which, if she didn’t hate her so much, she might actually thank her for.  Of course, this hell hole and this government would see them as a threat. It was probably the same reason her and Cato were even still alive– the Mockingjay conditions.

“She does everything for her sister, you know? It was all for her. But it’s about Peeta now too. I didn’t believe it either.” Finnick admitted, finally locking green eyes with her own. “You should have seen her when his heart stopped–”

“His heart stopped??”

“During the games. I brought him back, she never would’ve held it together without him.”

Glimmer thinks for a moment, back to the arena, that first night when there had been a dying scream and no following canon– “The first night, right?”

Finnick nods, flexing and squeezing his hands together to uncramp them after the intricate knot tying exercise. “She reacted..honestly like I would have. Or you would have. Or Clove would have.”

She scoffs, raising a single eyebrow in pure disbelief. “You think she likes him?”

“I think she loves him. She’s just as bad as we are, Glim.” Finnick admits, running a hand through his greasy, unshowered hair. The curls fall more as waves at this point, lacking the care and upkeep of even a basic shower. “She’s been sedated as often as Cato has.”

For a split second, Glimmer feels almost bad. She pouts, bottom lip out, as she thinks of all the jabs she’s sent Katniss’s way. It never looked real.

“well..I don’t believe for a second that she’s pregnant. I would- well, I think we’d all know, considering she’d have to be what? Like..four? Five? Months pregnant by now, there's no way–”

“I’ll give you that one, Glimmer.”

-

“You look absolutely ridiculous.” Glimmer reminds him freely, hands sitting in her own lap as she watches him across from her, a thin plastic spoon bending and snapping as he tries to shove it through the thin chicken breast with no avail.

“You try to cut this dry shit with a spoon, it would be easier if the chicken was still alive.” Cato rips a piece off, tossing it at the face of the blonde girl across from him. “Eat.”

“If you’re complaining about it, I'm not sure it’s worth the waste of calories.”

“Shut your stupid mouth and eat.”

Glimmer rips a piece of a bread roll off to throw back at him, hitting him straight in the forehead, but does relent and rips a tiny piece off to nibble on herself. “I bet this is what it was like to live in District 12.”

They’re isolated in a different way, now. Sure, they’re with the overall population of District Thirteen, but the two of them sit at a corner cafeteria style table, with noone within four or five tables from them. It’s like they had the capitol loyalist plague, and no one wanted to catch it. The murmurs of murderer, child killers, psychopaths didn’t bother them much, though sometimes Glimmer just wanted to scream back at them.

 We were children too. We wanted to live, too.

Whatever. At least they don’t have to play nice.

At least, until right now.

Beetee– who recovered from both their attack on their arrival– wheeled himself over to their table, not bothering to bother with niceties.

“Would you two follow me?”

“We’re a bit busy enjoying this gourmet, five star meal, maybe we’ll try again later–” Cato argues, intensely focusing on the garbage food before him. He tightens his grip on his fork, and Glimmer can tell he’s debating how to turn it into a weapon. Or rather, if he should.

“No. I believe you will be very happy to follow along.” Beetee urges again, nodding his head towards the door.

Glimmer and Cato lock eyes, distinctly debating if this was worth the possible trap. Sure, Beetee is not a risk to either of them, but there was no reason he wouldn’t be in on a reason to get rid of them, either.

Glimmer pushes herself up first, and Cato follows. It’s funny, for someone who declared himself the de facto leader of their career pack in the arena, he often seemed to wait for her cue, too. Maybe he finally saw her as an equal threat.

All it took was a few attempts at murder  to bring two people together.

They follow Beetee silently, through elevators and the deep depths of District Thirteen they had not visited before. Hell, they didn't even know it went this deep down into the Earth.

He leads them to a heavily armored door that he can only access through a scan of his eye.

“I had to fight to get you two privileges down here.” Beetee begins, as two heavy metal doors begin to part down the middle, giving way to a heavily armored room, both in terms of the heavy metal surrounding the room but also in terms of arms.

Weapons. They brought them to the weapons.

“Holy shit.” Cato grins, actually grins, for the first time since their capture and separation back in the arena. “You have to be an idiot to bring us here.”

LIke a kid in a candy store, truly, Cato half runs forward. He runs his hand over the array of shining metal weapons, sliding his finger over the sharp metal edges of hunting knives.

“Well. Katniss and the others are on a special mission. District Eight, trying to gather some footage. If all the other victors have access, you should as well. You can’t hurt anyone from inside here.”

“How the hell did you get them to agree to this?” Glimmer smiles, picking up the spare bow, weighing it in her hands. It was most certainly meant for Katniss, not her, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

“Think of it as enrichment time. If they think you two are useful to the cause– you may have some advantages on your side.” Beetee was no fool. Neither Glimmer nor Cato were going to support this cause, but at least they could be less of a danger if they were entertained.

Cato picks up a trident, clearly meant for Finnick, and twirls it between his nimble fingers. “ Don’t tell me you’re going to send Finnick into an active war zone with a trident. What moron goes into a literal battle with a Trident.”

The games were one thing. They were all trained in some sort of short ranged, low impact weapon. This, though, was different. This was war.

“Finnick and Katniss are…more for show.” Beetee admits, noting how Glimmer has discarded the bow in exchange for some of the other knives at their disposal. “It’s impactful, to display them with the weapons they were known for. It helps to bridge a gap. Besides, Katniss is very comfortable and proficient with a bow.”

“That’s suicide, to send them into actual war with those, you know that.” Glimmer mumbles, shaking her head in disapproval. “Bringing a knife to a gunfight. But somehow worse, when she is the actual symbol of your war.”

“Our goal is to never let her experience actual danger..”

“You don’t have Peeta. She’ll put herself in danger to get him back.” Glimmer counters, ignoring the perplexed eyebrow raise of Cato. Right. She hadn’t shared Finnick’s revelations a few weeks ago with him. Note to self, then. “I can’t believe we got access to the victor playground. We’re on suicide watch at breakfast.”

“Well..I assumed this would be a nice distraction, and you will keep access so long as you don’t go for the–”

A literal shot echoes through the metal room, and Glimmer and Beetee both whip their heads behind them.

Cato stands there, smoke coming from the actual gun he holds in the palm of his hand. “I’m not going into any fucking war, but I want one of these.”  He fires off a few more shots, that one after the other, hit the center of the distant target dummy. He’s aimed at one of those many times in his life–usually with a sword or occasional spear– but this..this was pure power held in his hands.

“Guns. I didn’t want you to go for the guns.” Beetee sighs, as Glimmer practically jumps over him to get to Cato. “Just don’t kill any of us.”

Glimmer holds out her hands excitedly, grabbing towards him. “Gimme, I wanna try.”

“Get your own.” He nods to the table behind me, where another similar handgun remains. “I don’t get why they never let us use these…”

“Oh please, we’d have ended the games in an hour flat.” She teases, twirling the metal in her hands and bringing her arms out before her.

Like Cato, she hits the dead center of the dummy, over and over and over, each shot as precise as the last.

“Not bad, blondie.” Cato compliments, giving her an affirming nod of her head. “I guess all that training carries over across weapons, huh?”

“You’re blonde too, idiot.” Glimmer rolls her eyes, firing off a few more shots before the clip runs out. “Beetee, I need more!”

“On the table.” The older man sighs, watching in contentment  as the two most unhinged members of the rebellion fire off countless accurate, precise shots.

They learn, fast, how to reload the clip without missing a single beat, firing off hundreds and hundreds of rounds of lead into the dummies around the room.

They never miss.

“Clove will love this.” Cato decides, for the first time genuinely speaking positively about the future without prompt. “I can’t wait to show her.”

“Do you think we could go after them?” Glimmer whispers for Cato alone, eyes flicking between the targets. They were incredibly accurate– but they’d need access to the weapons and transportation. There were logistics involved that they may not be capable of.

“...we could try–” Cato offers, before shaking his head. “It might be suicide.”

She understands, and gives a short nod of her head. It was probably a no. But the idea, well, it was there and shared between them.

“Beetee!” Glimmer calls, twisting blonde hair over her finger with a little coy look on her face, offering an abrupt change to the topic of conversation. “I am not going into this war, but if I had to, can you get me a pink one?”

Cato snorts, going back to his roots and picking up a long, serrated hunting knife. “Just what everyone wants to see, you take out President Snow with a pink, shiny little gun. Will you be fighting Miss Mockingbird on fire for that honor?”

Glimmer begins to giggle, then lets out a short, sharp gasp as she realizes what he says. He must realize at the same time, the implication of what he has said, for he looks up with a startled look on his face.

Such a statement is blatant support for the Rebellion. The implications that they would be part of a take down of the Capitol– well that's treason, in itself.

Of note does not try to correct himself, or change the topic. Beetee does not comment, but he does have a small smirk twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Cato gives a half hearted laugh, before he goes back to the array of weapons before them. Glimmer sets down the gun, the implication of holding it still a bit much.

When did they become treasonous little snakes themselves?

#clato fanfic #clato fanfiction #THG fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #ARWBFB tag #always remember we're burned for better #cato and clove #glimmer and marvel #glimmer and cato r becoming friends they're trauma bonding