#“maybe more sleep would fix everything - except that has never worked for you and you know better than to hope it would this time.”

[yazzwrites6962]

Lonely ♡ L Lawliet

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ L Lawliet x Fem!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Established relationship between L and the reader. This is the first smut I have ever written, so pleaseeeeee be patient with me. I'm just a baby writer (I'm over 18. Don't take this literally). If you find any more warnings I should list, please let me know! I don't own any characters or images!

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Summary: It's lonely being the wife of the greatest detective in the world, especially when he's not the best at showing affection. However, something seems different about him today.

Word Count: 2533

Warnings: Sexual content, themes of loneliness, slight angst, OOC L, Fem! oral receiving, penetration, unprotected intercourse, light breeding kink, praise, begging, daddy kink, creampie.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you married him. You knew there would be many nights when he wouldn't come home. You knew there were some compromises you would have to make. Still, it took its toll on you over the years.

It felt like he married you out of convenience. You met young, and you fell so deeply in love with L the moment you saw him. Maybe it was his wit, or the deep charming look in his eyes. All your friends teased your obvious, painful crush on him. You didn't care. Your heart was set from the moment you met him.

The day he approached you and asked you to marry him was the happiest day of your life. You readily agreed without a second thought. You didn't pause to question why he asked. You didn't ponder about the fact you had only a handful of interactions.

"After much observation, I had determined that you will make an exceptional spouse." That's what L always told you when you would ask why. It was true. On the rare occasion that your husband was home, he had a nice meal waiting for him. He had a clean home and a made bed. It was a practical relationship.

He gave you affection, of course, but it always seemed like a chore to him. There were only a handful of times the two of you had been intimate. He never fully seemed to give himself to you, and the loneliness began to weigh you down.

A quick buzz sounded from your phone. You pull yourself off the couch, stretching a bit before checking the notification. It was a text from your husband. He was on his way home, after a week of being caught up in his work and sleeping at the office again. Despite all your conflicting feelings, butterflies fill your stomach. You love your husband. That has never changed.

You rush yourself to the kitchen. Early in your marriage, you'd managed to learn how to make his favorite desserts. You began to slave away over the counters, wanting to give your best effort. L was rarely ever home, so when he was, you gave it your all.

You hear the front door open. He's home much faster than you had anticipated. The desserts you were working on are still baking. You hadn't had time to get ready. Your hair was a mess, your clothes covered in creams and flour, and no makeup. You see L round the corner into the kitchen before his eyes land on you.

"Welcome home, Sweetheart." You say with a chuckle. "You came so much quicker than I thought you would. I haven't had time to finish my cooking or clean myself up."

L is silent, his gaze fixed on you. You grow nervous, fearing his disapproval. He seems tense or frustrated. You have trouble telling what's going on in his mind. He nearly never opens up about his feelings to you.

"Is everything alright? You seem... quiet." You comment, wiping your hands and approaching your husband. "Is everything going alright at work?"

"I want to have intercourse," Your eyes widen as L finally speaks. There were not the words you were expecting to hear. Not even a greeting. Straight to the point. "With you, of course."

"W-Well, no duh with me! I'd sure hope so!" You choke out, growing embarrassed. "What's this about? You seem off, Sweetheart. What's going on?"

"I love you." L says suddenly. He had only said this once before, on your wedding day, and you hardly believed that. It only felt as though it was part of his vows. You were always the more affectionate one, expressing your love without expecting any response.

"I... I love you too." You mutter, shocked by this sudden declaration. "W-What's going on, L. Seriously. If something is wrong, I need to know. I want to help."

"I know you do. You always have." L gives you a rare smirk, awkwardly wrapping his arms around you. Hugs were given on occasion, but this felt different. You could hear his heart beating out of his chest as you lay your head against him. "You have always been my greatest ally, Y/N. I realize that my appreciation for you goes unspoken more often than not. I would like to have intercourse, as a display of my gratitude and affection for you."

You look up at him, scanning his expression. It's comforting to feel his embrace. It's something you rarely get to experience. Yet, you feel this must be too good to be true.

"Darling, you don't have to do anything like that for me to know that you appreciate me, or that you care." Although, in the past year, you truly haven't felt appreciated or loved. You've felt more like a maid than anything.

"Y/N, I want you." He says, in a tone that sounds like a nearly frustrated whine. It's a sound you have never heard before. Still, everything indicates that he is speaking the truth.

He hesitates for a moment before leaning down to meet you face to face. His hands reach to your chin, tilting your head slightly. It's almost as if he's inspecting your face. Just as you are about to ask what he is doing, his lips land on yours.

Your husband was never fond of kissing. He was disgusted by the idea of sharing saliva. Yet, here you were, squeaking in surprise as his tongue forced his way into your mouth. You relax into the kiss. It's soft, and passionate. Your heartbeat practically echoes throughout the room as your excitement increases.

His hands find their way to your waist. He rubs circles on your skin and toys with the fabric of your shirt. You lean into him, your hands roaming his surprisingly toned chest. When you first married, he was much scrawnier than he is now. The thought of your wedding fills your heart with joy.

It was a small ceremony. Private. Very few people knew. Still, you felt as though you were the luckiest girl in the world. When those doors finally opened and L laid his eyes on you, you could've sworn you saw him tear up.

"You are arousing." He whispers in your ear, snapping you out of your pleasant memories. His hands snake under your shirt and gently trace your bare skin. "Even such minimal contact with you can cause a physical reaction."

You look down to see the outline of a very large bulge through L's sweatpants. His arms wrap at your hips, picking you up off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His erection prods against you. He carries you to your bedroom, gently placing you onto the bed. His dominance and affection are unusual, but very much welcome.

"Do I have your consent to remove your clothes and proceed with intercourse?" You chuckle at his formality. You've known him so long. He's seen every part of you. Yet, something still makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Yes, Lawliet. You do." With that, his hands swiftly move to your pants, sliding them off your hips, down your thighs, and finally off your body entirely. He kneels against the side of the bed, peppering kisses on your skin.

Beforehand, intimacy felt somewhat cold and distant. He had always kept your enjoyment in mind, but had never shown so much affection as he had been showing now.

You feel your arousal pooling as his kisses make their way higher and higher, his thumb teasing at the waistline of your panties. He hooks his index finger around them, slowly pulling them down.

"My, someone is eager." He jokes, his hands positioning your thighs over his shoulders. "Open wide for me, Princess." Simply the sound of his husky voice calling you an affectionate pet name would've made your heart race. What makes your heart nearly explode was the feeling of his tongue swiping a line up your wet core. You let out a shaky breath as he continues, lapping up your arousal.

At first, he is slow and delicate. This is something you had never done before. L was never a fan of foreplay. He enjoyed getting straight to the point. However, as small whimpers and moans escaped your throat, his intensity increased. He grew desperate to hear more, devouring you like an animal. Your thighs squeezed around his head, but this did not stop him. His tongue continued to make your mind go cloudy. Soon, you felt your climax approaching.

"L-Lawliet!" You whimper, moans cascading from your mouth like a waterfall. "I can't take much more!" Your hands, which once gripped the bedsheets, travel to your husband's unruly hair. You tug it lightly, causing him to grunt. His nails dig into your waist as he continues.

Soon, you find yourself releasing on his face with a loud moan. He licks up your liquids and you squeak as his tongue passes back over your most sensitive parts.

Your husband stands, his chest heaving as he undresses. Any remaining garments of yours are shed quickly as well. The moment feels so intimate, and vulnerable. You reach towards the nightstand. With how infrequently you and your husband would have intercourse, you find it somewhat pointless to consistently take birth control. Instead, your primary contraceptive was now condoms. However, L's hand stops you at your wrist.

"I want to have a child. Would this be acceptable to you?" He asks, gently, his eyes never leaving yours. This feels like such a sudden development. L had never expressed interest in having a family before. However, this was something you had been hoping for since the beginning. Tears of joy fill your eyes as you nod. "May I have your verbal confirmation?"

"Of course, my Love." You say quickly, as if the opportunity will pass you by. "I'd want nothing more, but where is this coming from?" Your husband smiles as he leans over your frame, his arms on either side of you.

"I have found myself thinking of you more and more often. The idea of protecting and providing for you has always been in my mind. Yet, in the past few weeks, I have been craving your warmth under the pressure of my current case." L says softly. You listen intently. He has rarely ever opened up about his feelings. Especially not about your relationship. "I do not mean physical warmth in this context. Although, that is something I have missed. I am referring to your overwhelming domesticity and optimism. You are comforting."

"I find you comforting too." Your hand cups his cheek. He nods, happy with your response as he lifts your right leg ever so slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. You look down, spotting his throbbing cock, pre-cum leaking from the tip. You didn't think it possible to become more aroused than you already were, but here you felt your heart race faster and your face grow warmer. He teases you, rubbing himself against your wetness. "Please, Baby." You groan, earning a hitch in breath from L.

He pushes himself in slowly, feeling your warm walls squeeze around his as he bottoms out. He exhales a shaky breath, his nails clawing at the sheets and his eyes squeezed shut. He fears that if he opens his eyes and sees you beneath him, he wouldn't last.

"You take me so well." His voice is low, and he finally opens his eyes. He has given you a few moments to adjust, and he begins to pump in and out of you.

His thrusts are slow and loving at first as he praises you, peppering you with kisses. As your moans and whimpers grow louder, his thrusts pick up in speed, like he's feeding off your pleasure. The sounds of wet slapping skin fill the room, accompanied with L's occasional labored breaths and grunts. Your legs are wrapped around his hips, and your nails scratch into his back. You can tell your husband is getting closer to his climax, as his thrusts become more animalistic and sloppier.

"That's my good girl." He growls as your walls tighten; you're getting closer to your release as well. You whimper, his name slipping from your lips. This only seems to send him further into depravity, as he lets out a loud groan and a hand grabs at your ass.

"I-I'm so close-" You whimper as your husband presses into your sweet spot over and over again. His pace slows down, his eyes laced with desire.

"Beg for it. Beg to cum for me, or I will stop." You don't dare test or tease him. You know that he absolutely has the self-control to stop right then and there. Your legs tighten around his hips.

"No! Please! Don't stop, L. Please, I need this so bad. Please, let me cum. You make me feel so good Daddy." Though you had never called him this before, it seemed to unlock something within him. His thrusts become faster than you can handle, and your orgasm begins to wash over you. "A-Ah! Please! Right there!"

"Fuck." He whispers, lowering his head beside yours. You can hear his subtle cursing and growls right in your ear. Your mind fogs as you reach your climax, biting down on his shoulder as you cum on his cock. "G-Gonna cum-" He does so soon after, emptying himself out inside you with a couple extra thrusts.

He takes a moment to catch his breath before collapsing onto the bed beside you. The glimmer of sweat on his bare chest is truly a sight to see. Somehow, his hair managed to get even messier than it usually is. You giggle, happy to see your husband in such a vulnerable state.

"I hope you found this satisfactory." He turns to you, his eyes shining with affection and adoration. You turn on your side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

"What's gotten into you?" You ask, tracing doodles on his body with your finger. He hums, thinking of a proper way to answer your question. "You're very affectionate today."

"There are a pair of individuals I have been observing for a time. They go by the names of Light Yagami and Misa Amane. Miss Amane is quite affectionate with Mr. Yagami. However, I notice that he often will not return this sentiment. She is left unsatisfied and desperate for any crumb of attention from Light." L turns to you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. "I do not desire to do the same to you. I do love you, Y/N. Since the day I met you. I would like to have a family with you. I would like to be more present. I want you to feel the love I have for you."

You smile, hugging his tightly. You try to hold the tears in your eyes. You've always been relatively confident that he cared for you and loved you. He just shows his affection a little differently. Yet, his concern for your happiness filled a loneliness you'd refused to acknowledge for a long time.

"I love you too."

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[hanniedream]

EVERYONE LOOK AWAY THIS WAS WRITTEN FOR ME AND ME ONLY!!!!!

Jeonghan (SVT) | Nap fluff | 0.9k | gn!reader A/N: @hanniedream :)

This isn’t what you had planned when you joined Jeonghan for his nap after lunch.

Can it even be called a nap anymore when it’s been 3 hours?

You wake up feeling like you got hit by a train and woke up in a parallel universe. Your limbs feel so heavy it’s not even worth moving them and you’re not sure what amount of water you’d need to drink to get rid of the headache. You’re almost tempted to ask Jeonghan to bring you a painkiller, but then you stop.

If you’re in bed and just woke up, that means he must be still sleeping.

Carefully as you can with your body basically a deadweight you turn around. Sure enough, Jeonghan is still fast asleep. His chest rises and falls in a steady, slow rhythm. Just looking at him makes you feel like succumbing to sleep again. Maybe more sleep would fix everything - except that has never worked for you and you know better than to hope it would this time.

So you do the only smart thing you can - you sit up. Honestly your throat feels like you’ve been gurgling sand and a bathroom break sounds great too. And then perhaps afterwards you’ll feel good enough to be productive or at least awake enough that you’ll put on some movie and chill. Yet before you can get up, you feel warmth over your hand. You look back to see Jeonghan’s hand covering your, his brows furrowed slightly. He looks so pitiful. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you whisper to soothe him.

He doesn’t remove his hand but when you slide your hand away and get up, he doesn’t stop you either. 

It’s only when you’re standing at the sink minutes later that you realize you forgot to take your phone with you. Now that shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is.

When Jeonghan hesitantly brought up his desire for a staycation instead of planning anything for the first time off he had in months, you agreed without a single doubt that it’s the best way to enjoy each other and recharge like you both needed to. The first thing you agreed on and promised to follow was ‘sleep when you’re tired, for as long as you’re tired’, and you promised not to wake him up unless it was an emergency.

Your boyfriend promised the same without you asking him too - and honestly that’s for the best because usually the ‘emergency’ you’d be woken up to is him just waking up from a nap and needing someone to tell all about his crazy dreams. Other times he just gets lonely. Honestly you know it’s an excuse to look out for you. He knows you don’t like to sleep for as long as you did today in the middle of the day.

So now that you’re standing in the kitchen without your phone, you can’t help but sigh. Going back to the bedroom is risky enough, but looking for the device? You’re bound to wake him up. 

Still, you have no idea how long he’s going to keep sleeping and you’d rather avoid getting a notification that will wake him up anyway. 

You creep into the bedroom quietly, pleased to note that you’ve gotten better at it upon seeing Jeonghan sleeping as peacefully as when you left the room. He doesn’t stir when you reach the bed either, and fortune is on your side because your phone is right there - peeking from under the corner of your pillow. Right there.

You wrap your fingers around it and at that precise moment Jeonghan’s hand shoots towards the device too. You pull back, thinking he must’ve just wanted to check the time and thought it was his own phone. 

He did not.

Met only with the cold surface of the item, he blinks his eyes open - bloodshot and teary, clearly woken up from a deep sleep, while he aims and catches your forearm this time.

“Where-?” he groans, falling back into the mattress again.

“I just woke up, Hannie,” you sigh, sitting down now that he’s awake, “I’ll be in the next room.”

“No,” he whines, trying and failing to open his eyes again. He whimpers again and you get the message loud and clear. 

Lying down, you help him put his hand on your waist and return your embrace. “There, I’m here.” 

He hums quietly. His lips press against your forehead as if he wanted to kiss you, or maybe tell you something. You’ll never know. Now that you’re safely in his arms, his breathing is already even yet again.

You try to fight off the lingering exhaustion, push back the sudden heaviness to your body and your eyelids. It’s a lost fight. Jeonghan is so warm and his arms slung over your waist and the memory of his desperate need to have you close make your heart flutter.

If this is what your body demands, then perhaps you need it.

You stop struggling against the pull of sleep.

You earned this opportunity to rest as much as you can. You don’t have to do anything but recover.

And very few things are as precious and healing as waking up to Jeonghan’s beautiful eyes and smile, no matter the time or how messed up your sleeping schedule will be.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Things Simon Loves About You

Warnings: Fluff <3, Cosy Headcanons, Simon Being a Hypothetical Animal Crossing Enthusiast, Jealous! Simon :3, Simon Being the Best Boyfriend, Spoilers for Simon’s Backstory, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

He’s secretly enamoured with the way you’ll gently pluck a fallen eyelash from his face and tell him to make a wish on it. The first time it happened, you had to explain to him what this odd ritual meant, what it entailed. You shushed him before he tried to make his wish out loud, telling him with haste that it won’t come true if he told you what it was. When he blew the eyelash from your fingertip, all he could do was look at you and think: ‘but it already came true’.

Though it initially worried him, he loves that you go to sleep late — especially when he finds you zonked out on the sofa, TV on, remnants of your midnight snack escapade scattered across the coffee table. It means he has an excuse to pick you up and bring you to bed, holding you close to him all the while. Most nights, he just stares at you, watching you, wondering how he got so lucky to even have someone exist in the same house with, never mind you.

Nobody likes arguments — especially Simon. Having grown up in an abusive household, they were commonplace in some form or another. But, when he argues with you, he knows that it can easily be fixed. Especially if it’s over something minimal like laundry or cleaning — it gives him the excuse to seek you out and utilise his ultimate love languages: gift-giving and physical touch. Sure, he’ll give you a quiet, verbal apology, too, but his efforts shine through in the way he opens himself up to you, pulling you into a warm hug and not letting you go for as long as you’ll let him.

He loves the nicknames you give him: especially the funny ones. You’ve called him Semen Demon before now — completely unprompted. He couldn’t help but give a deep chuckle, saying “What are you like,” before turning back to what he was doing. This worked a competition between the two of you to see who could create the most cursed nickname for the other.

It’s still going on ‘til this day.

He lives for the inside jokes the two of you have, like a dialect only you know. It makes him feel like he’s truly part of something… normal. Sure, he has the 141, by they are bound in the blood of their profession, not by the sanctity of love. Not the kind of love you two have. He loves it even more when everyone else looks confused when you mark a reference onto you two understand; it makes him feel like you’re talking to him and only him. For the first time, he feels like someone sees him.

He loves when you listen to his music suggestions. It makes him feel like his opinion matters — like what he says matters.

He loves the music you listen to, too. Not even because he likes the songs themselves, but because he knows, somewhere between their instruments and vocals, you have found enjoyment, like a coveted treasure. And that's what brings him enjoyment when listening to them.

Simon’s always been a light sleeper. A trick he learned in childhood. So when you prod him awake to spill your thoughts to him, he’s immediately all ears. And he loves everything you say, no matter how banal or nonsensical. Even when you tell him your worries, his heart swells with the fact that you trust him enough with your perils. That you think, even for a second, that maybe he can fix them.

And he would. Before time can catch him, he’ll do whatever it takes to ease your worries, to destroy them.

He loves that he gets to show you off to the 141 — like a child with an arts and crafts project. He’s a secretive man, but he won’t hesitate to make light of the fact that his partner is absolutely stunning, intelligent, hilarious, loyal, understanding—

You see where this is going.

He even loves how jealous they all look when they see you wearing one of his shirts in all your unfiltered glory, wishing them a good night while you bid Simon his own – a special one. A kiss. Just on the forehead. But a kiss all the same.

He’s dazed for the rest of the evening, trying to hurry his friends uut the door so he can come to bed and see you.

Lazy morning cuddles !!!!!

He’s recently gotten into video games because of you, too.

Secretly a big fan of Animal Crossing. He absolutely would have been one of those people to try and buy Raymond from anyone willing to sell him back in 2020 .

Likes any games that are life simulators. Simple ones — free of life’s stresses.

Loves Harvest Moon. And the Sims (Sims 2 is his favourite).

Although, when he found out you can romance other characters, he felt a bit bad because he felt like it would be cheating on you. Until he found out that you were already leading many a double life on those same games. The moment he found out you’d been romancing a collection of pixels and shapes, he picked you up, slung you over his shoulder and dragged you to the bedroom to “Teach you a lesson.”

All in all, domestic life with you is better than anything Simon could have hoped for. So long as you’re with him, he’s living a life he’s only ever dreamt of. And so help the person who tries to wake him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[shaunamilfman]

Me when I see your domestic Shauna hcs and immediately decide I need a Nat version so this is my formal request for some

If you want to ofc no pressure I just love your writing

-📝

Domestic Nat Headcanons

pairing: Nat Scatorccio x Reader note: no crash au. nat in her 20's. idk why i answered this so quick tbh

in my mind, Nat's a bartender. maybe opens her own bar one day in the future so she can get away with giving a few free drinks to people that aren't assholes. she charges the assholes double, of course. 

sleeps till like 2 every day and has black-out curtains over every window in her apartment. if you like natural sunlight, your ass is going to have to go outside. 

if you're asleep by the time she gets home, your ass will be waking up. she never does it on purpose, she just has no idea how loud she really is. humming quietly in the shower after work and not even thinking about the fact that the wall would amplify it. you don't have the heart to tell her to stop. 

on the flip side, she never really gets that annoyed if you wake her up while she's asleep. just rolls her eyes as you get up, and pretends not to be pleased when you kiss her forehead. immediately rolls back over and falls right back asleep. it's almost impressive how quick she is. 

blasts music while she's getting ready, or doing just about anything that allows her too. you're always coming home to her gaming and blasting music on her days off. 

night owl even on her days off, always has been. it's a rare sight to see her up before noon, and it's only if you or one of her friends specifically asked her. leaving the house with her sunglasses on and almost hissing at the sun. 

Nat can't cook for shit except for a few staple foods that she'd eat every meal if you'd let her. she's not necessarily bad at it, she just doesn't really have the patience for it. 

her space constantly looks like a hurricane came through it, but she always miraculously knows where everything is. if you try to organize it for her, she'll be so lost. messes it back up the second your back is turned. 

You constantly catch her in the middle of the night making the weirdest snack combination known to man. If the sight of her eating it doesn't make you want to gag, then she's not doing it right. 

has a half feral cat with some mean ass name like ‘bastard’ or some shit that she leaves food out for. she saved his life when he got stuck and almost starved, and got permanent scars as a thank you. the cat comes and goes as he please, and neither of you are sure how he's getting in or out. 

she always pretends the scars were from something much cooler whenever somebody asks. it's a different story every time. you think she must have a list somewhere she adds to when she gets bored. they're starting to get really creative. 

you witness the cat getting into a nasty street fight with another cat and Nat's just like “hell yeah, go bastard!”

the first time you visited Nat's apartment, the only furniture she had in the living room was a beanbag chair and a TV setup propped up on a box. gallantly offers you the bean bag chair as she eats on the floor cross-legged next to you. 

she insists that she was always going to get more furniture and that it was just temporary, but you're not so sure. the first thing she buys is this beat to shit couch that's somehow the most comfortable thing you've ever sat on. she's so proud of it. 

if you didn't force her to get more, Nat would only own one fork, one spoon, one plate, etc. insists that she can just watch them.

likes going out with your or her friends, but isn't as much of a fan of hosting the events. makes it harder to just leave when she starts getting tired of them. always tried to make you be the bad guy whenever she wants to go. “sorry guys, she's tired.” meanwhile you're wide awake. 

Nat's really good at fixing things, mostly out of necessity. still, if something’s busted, there's a good chance Nat's already on her way to the hardware store to get parts before you've even noticed. she really enjoys the process of fixing shit and ends up getting really into cars because of it. if it wasn't for the hours, she'd consider being a mechanic. 

absolute coffee fiend. you rarely see her without a cup. only drinks it black and will turn her nose up at the sugary stuff. she's not pretentious about it though, it's just how she likes it. 

Nat randomly comes home with little gifts for you, tossing it at you without really acknowledging it. if you press her on it she'll say some shit like “saw it and thought of you.” 

she's not a big fan of surprises. she has a bit of a routine and whenever there's a major interruption to it she gets a little antsy. with the way Nat grew up ,she really appreciates knowing just about how her days going to go before she starts it. 

Nat really enjoys watching movies with you. it doesn't really matter what it is as long as she can just turn her brain off and watch. she likes physical contact, but isn't super big on cuddling per se. the type to lift your legs up into her lap when you're laying across the couch.

[bluejutdae]

Prince Felix thoughts

🫶 this is for you

• Prince Lee Felix, son of King Minho, raised at court.

• he’s always polite and kind to whoever works at the castle and be’s knows n as the “fairy Prince” or the “kind Prince” because of his beauty and behavior

• you two meet the day of your arranged marriage. Sometimes politics is too strong to be challenged, so you meet on the altar, both nervous but both set on fulfilling your commitment.

• the wedding ceremony goes smoothly and you’re surprised at how gorgeous pretty he is in real life. Photos haven’t been photoshopped and portraits didn’t need to pass under the strict editing of the royals, he really looks like a Fairy Prince, the name deserved. You only hope that’s the only characteristic akin to fairies, seen their ability to manipulate words to avoid saying the truth.

• what you fear the most is the wedding night, you’re not a virgin, but you heard nightmarish stories about Kings and Princes forcing themselves on their spouses. Felix proves (again and again) to be a good man. He walks you to your rooms and with a gracious bow he wishes you good night and leaves you alone to get ready for bed. It’s the same the night after, and the one after that, and so on.

• you two spend your days together, he helps you getting aquatinted to the castle, the court and their customs. And in the meantime he tries to get to know you. He has infinite questions about you: your favorite colors, food you like, where would you like to travel to, your hobbies and passions, which ice cream flavor you prefer, your shoe size and so on…

• you’re married for a month but you never kissed, except for your chaste wedding kiss. He’s not shy with his affection, though. He often reaches to fix your hair, to remove lint from your shoulder or he simply squeezes your hand quickly when you say something that makes him laugh. God, his laugh is so cute and real. It’s been a month but you already have feeling for your husband.

• physical affection is not the only thing he offers. He gives you gift after gift. Sometimes it’s something as simple as a flower picked during a walk in the gardens, a sweet he knows you like from a bakery in town; others, it’s fancy things: he gifted you ruby earrings, a pearl necklace, a collection of rare books, a ball gown with real diamonds on the corset.

• you often try to reciprocate his gifts and attentions, but it almost seems like he prefers giving more than receiving. He’s always happy to receive something from you. And even if you don’t know, he safeguards everything you ever gave him like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Included the origami flower you made once.

• one of the things that make you both happy is your complicity. You become friends, talking about everything and laughing together. Your nightly runs in the kitchen get habitual, mostly after a day you couldn’t spend together. You talk and he bakes, or he talks and you cook. It’s your way to decompress and being able to do it together is the most importantly thing.

• Minho starts to call for numerous balls. So many balls. You have now more ball gowns than you ever though was possible. Felix says it’s weird how often there is a ball at Court, maybe it’s Minho’s way to court someone? Did he meet someone he’s interested in? But after every ball, Minho roll his eyes when he gets info on you still sleeping in different rooms. Does he have to step up his game?

• Luckily he doesn’t have to. The next ball has many dignitaries from other countries as guests and one of them, a tall and handsome guy, asks for a dance. You accept because it’s part of your role, but when he holds a bit too tight and shuffles his hands a little too close to where he shouldn’t, you look around, trying to find your husband’s eyes in a silent ask for help. You don’t have to search for long because he’s already behind you, politely but firmly asking to dance with you. You relax in his arms, but he’s still tense. “Felix, I’m fine. He was just too-“

• “I’m not fine”. He never speaks in this tone, furious and clenching his jaw. “No one gets to touch my wife like that.” His gaze is fixed on you, and after month you finally realized you’re not the only one having feelings. Not caring of rules and appearances you grab him by his hand and guide him to a less crowded room to kiss him. The kiss is messy and hungry, but you both need to communicate too many things with it. Surprisingly, Minho doesn’t want so many balls anymore…

• your first night together ends with you both submerged in a warm bubble bath (thank god for rich royals who can afford spacious bathtubs), cuddling and tracing shapes on each other’s body. His neck and chest are littered with marks, the rest of them are covered by the water, but you know they’re there.

• he insists on having a serious conversation about what this means, how to navigate being in love with you wife once you’re already married. You decide on at least a weekly date outside of the castle, just the two of you. You talk all night and when you fall asleep, just when the sun is rising, it’s one in the other’s embrace…

[azullumi]

“and they were roommates” ; albedo & diluc

summary — what is he like as your roommate? in correlation, how does he often act around his home shared with you?

includes — albedo and diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader) ; separate

tags — fluff, domestic fluff if you squint so hard, no established relationship, some sprinkle of smau ; headcanons

note — surprise, there is no note ; masterlist

albedo, the helpful and kind roommate, also an artist and somewhat a friend

a genius, a roommate, and a friend (maybe). minds his own business and does his own things but he is willing to help you at most times, he wouldn’t mind tutoring you if you’re a student who needs guidance or wouldn’t mind fixing the pipes if ever it gets broken—i mean, that would affect him also if it breaks down as you two share the same home. he’ll figure things out on his own even if he doesn’t have that much experience with such tasks.

he’s an artist and you’ve seen some of his artworks when you pass by his open room. however, he never talked about it, his art, so if he didn’t leave his door open and if you hadn’t taken a peek inside, you wouldn’t have seen him painting—if you didn’t ask him about it, you’ll never know of it.

probably loves fruits, unsure since he never said it out loud but will always bring some home whenever he goes out—there’s always a basket of it on the table or a container in the fridge—and will even slice or peel it for you, sending you a photo and a message if you want some. you honestly don’t know how that string began but it just happened, peeling oranges for you and sharing just became a normal thing on a hot—perhaps summer—day.

he’s quiet most of the time, doesn’t talk a lot and texts from him first are not a common thing, but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to engage in a conversation with you and you get along with him just fine. he’s not some emotionless stuck up jerk, he’s very much the opposite of that. he’s caring, gentle, and attentive. he doesn’t leave a mess around unless it’s in his room and he does his own fair share of chores.

his room is somewhat divided into two spaces: rest and work area and the latter space is always messy. cleaning it up is just futile effort as it only gets untidy afterwards. there are all kinds of items and things inside, materials for his art and work or research, expensive equipment lying around his room, and a shelf with different kinds of books. along with some of his paintings that he put up, there are also papers that he taped on the wall, ideas and reminders that he can’t afford to forget.

diluc, just your simple and average thoughtful roommate, a bartender and an old soul

god, he’s just so sweet, attentive, and caring, and if you two aren’t dating, you wish you were. he lets you borrow one of his shirts (even if you have some in your closet but his j ust smells so good and it’s also so comfortable and soft to wear), he doesn’t mind it at all as long as you don’t go digging deeper into his room—not just the clothes—and invading his personal space and overstepping your boundaries. he lets you borrow some of his things also as long as you’ll ask for permission.

he’s not much of a morning person, getting out of his bed when it’s nearly afternoon already. if ever he wakes up early, he’ll stay inside his room probably just laying on his bed and catching to more sleep or cherishing his alone time and making the most out of it, he wallows in the warmth of the sunlight that seeps into his room and lays at his floor and the silence that engulfs him—it’s just peaceful and comforting.

speaking of his room, he has a simple one, adorned with small decorations and a few framed photos, and everything is always neat and tidy. all of his things are stored where they should be. there’s nothing much to describe here except it’s clean and organized with a faint smell of his cologne. he does have a collection of vintage and old items placed around his room such as a phonograph on his table and an antique vase on the corner.

he works part-time as a bartender—from afternoon until night. that’s why he’s often out late but he tells you in advance, either through a call or text message, whatever his mood is. although it’s not everyday that he works since he’s at home on some days. during those times, he’ll be the one to cook and would do chores around the house, letting you rest instead.

he lets you try some of the drinks he made, non-alcoholic if you don’t want alcohol, and would ask for your opinion. he’ll prefer it if you’re honest—lying wouldn’t be beneficial here. but then all of the ones he makes are all good so there’s no need to fabricate and sugarcoat your words to please him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[isa-ghost]

Headcanons about qPhil and chronic pain? And maybe how people get him to actually get help?

WOOOO bet :D

qPhil headcanons masterlist

I'd like to note that since Phil doesn't think of qPhil has having chronic pain bc the circumstances of his injuries/pain are different, I don't either. HOWEVER, that bitch still has hella ouched meechos.

There are 100% days where he just cannot get out of bed. It hurts too much to move and even more to stand. He has to be bedridden on his stomach and let his wings breathe and rest, though he's a very restless person and gets very agitated when understimulated.

He tries to power through the pain unless it's a day where Chayanne & Lullah are sleeping all day, then he'll give himself a day off.

Aka Eggza days actually do him some good besides stocking up on cookies for the kids LOL

He HATES that progress/healing isn't linear. It's a little funny to witness bc it's just him being salty as hell. God he is SO pressed about it, what do you MEAN he's not getting better day by day every day so hopefully in a few months he can fly again!! This is bullshit!!

The occasional warm soak in a bath does him wonders. It's a struggle not to flap around in the water like a birdbath though, it's a reflex

He tries to do morning stretches and the like, only doing as much as his wings/back will allow though, just to make sure things don't get worse instead of better

He's trying to ignore the fact that even when he heals enough for flying to be an option, he won't be straight back to it full throttle (he is also salty about this)

He's very intensely Do Not Touch My Wings but Chayanne & Lullah are exceptions. Like I said in another set of hcs, Lullah's wing hugs are everything to him

Someone get him stoned. CBD would do this man wonders pain relief-wise

Tbh he's his own worst enemy sometimes, he's too stubborn to be as lenient on himself as he should be and he just hurts himself more and makes life harder on himself

Often times he just sleeps off the pain if he can, it usually works

Or,, sometimes he eats a couple gapples : )

One thing he'll never do is ice his back to deal with the aches, he'd rather explode. Cold BAD.

Tbh he'd be more willing to rest if he had Missa around to cuddle and chill with him all day during the times he should stay in bed

I'm obligated to joke that Lullah/Missa have joked to him about fixing it with vaporub

[eccentricgrace]

Toss and Turn || IronDad

summary: tony finds peter walking around the cabin, which is odd, because it is way past bedtime for spidery-teenagers.

tags: post-endgame au, tony stark lives!!, sleep-walking, fluff and humor, tony acting as peter parker's parental figure, hurt/comfort

wc: 2,516

cross-posted to wattpad by the same name!

Tony considered himself an "above-average" light sleeper. He never really stopped to consider how long he'd been like that. It was more of a gradual understanding that he came to, that if there was any kind of sound, even if it was one that his unconscious body made, he would rise up like a feral cat and start planning his defense.

Maybe it started after he was kidnapped, which was well over fifteen years ago now, but sometimes still seemed like yesterday, as most of his mistakes often did.

Maybe it started even younger, with shattered glass bottles and yelling that rattled through walls, or the smell of that damn cologne nearing, the sound of expensive shoes echoing on wooden tile, on asphalt, on carpet—

Nevertheless, he is a light sleeper. It's gotten better over the years, with less unfamiliar noises that would echo throughout the night. Owls yearlong, frogs in the spring, cicadas in the summer, the gentle creaks and groans of a house settling in its space, that had all become natural to him by about the first year they moved in.

Now he woke up to nightmares, first and foremost. His, of course, which dredge up acid from his stomach and tears from his eyes, and a cold sweat that sticks to his clothes and hair— but also Morgan's.

His daughter, who had nightmares about as often as any other kid (Tony researches religiously about anything that could possibly be out of the ordinary, anything he may have done wrong) sometimes woke from her nightmares with quiet tears— and Tony would subsequently wake to furniture being gently knocked around by a sleepy girl trying to get to mom and dad.

That's what he assumed to be happening tonight, when he gets woken up by a soft thud in the hallway.

Tony pushed himself out of bed, wincing at the pull it gave on his 'arm', all synthetic, but the connecting joint still in the long process healing. He glanced at Pepper, still fast asleep beside him, and let himself feel in love for a moment longer before he left the room.

He stepped quietly on the wooden panels of the floor, opening the door slowly as to not startle Morgan who would be on the other side. There's a darkness he has to squint through in the hallway, all shadows and grey splotchy objects of space where furniture should lay— but immediately he could tell that it was indeed not his daughter who had woken him up tonight.

Tony flicked the hallway lamp on. A dim, orange light cast over the scene. Peter's lanky figure is swaying silently on his feet, his head tilted downwards as he looked intensely at the floor.

"You alright?" Tony asked immediately, his voice groggy. He's already scanning the kid for injuries— a limp, maybe, or some kind of twisted limb— but nothing is sticking out in any odd places or swollen.

"Mh," Peter grunted. "Fixing it."

Tony blinked the sleep out of his eyes and made a face of displeasure as he looked over at Peter's late-night workings.

Peter didn't stay over at the cabin all the time. Maybe once or twice every few weeks, which is still far more than Tony imagined he could have had before, but still wasn't enough to settle that old, parental spark in his chest that cried out, as it had for so, so long, about missing him.

He was... adjusting still, to everything. Tony understood. The whole scenario in of itself was impossibly difficult from any end of it. Losing someone like that for five years, it drove Tony to an emptiness that he wouldn't wish on anyone except those who caused it. (And Thanos was gone. Killed twice over. It still never feels like enough.)

But for Peter, it was a different breed of horror. Different beast. He couldn't imagine how it would feel, thinking you've died, only to wake up missing a chunk of something as valuable as time. A chunk from everyone else's life gone, with you left to try and understand the pieces. Like a coma designed personally by Hell.

Simply put, it was difficult for him to be over here. Tony wasn't stupid, he knew that. He would look at the kid, sometimes, and just see something strayed. Lost, like he didn't know where he fit in. Pepper said it would take time before the teenager would feel like he belonged in the world again, and as much as Tony hated the honesty in it, Pepper was always right. He knew patience was the only medicine for this.

Being patient didn't stop him from worrying. Which is what he was doing now, of course: worrying if Peter had a nightmare, or if he couldn't sleep and was trying to distract himself with meaningless tasks around the house.

"Well, whatever you did worked wonders, I think it's fixed," Tony said gently, looking over the completely unchanged vase. "Mind telling me what you're doing out of bed? Whatever prompted this midnight excursion, huh?"

"It's," Peter started, his speech stilted. He frowned deeply with concentration, then looked up at Tony. "You're not leaving without me."

Tony paused. Carefully, he put one hand on Peter's shoulder, another staying at his chin to keep him from moving around. His mind full of concern as he took stock of Peter's dazed, distant, glassy-eyed expression, the way his eyelashes fluttered slowly, the sleepy turning of his cheeks. His pupils weren't crazy dilated, they weren't red or bloodshot any more than they usually were with Peter's unpredictable sleep schedule. Tony mentally crossed off drugs or alcohol, to an embarrassing bout of relief.

"No," he answered, tilting his head to the side. "I'm not leaving without you, kiddo. Why would you think that?"

Peter swayed again on his feet, tilting forward and looking a second away from swan diving. Tony's other arm shot up to steady him, immediately wincing from the pain that resulted from such a sharp movement.

"Mgh," Peter muttered. He dropped his head into Tony's chest with a thud, sweaty curls of hair pressed against a faded MIT shirt. He didn't answer the question, instead deciding to snuggle himself closer, lean his full weight against Tony's side until he was slumped over and making muffled sleepy sounds into Tony's shoulder.

Tony's hand came up to cradle the kid's head instinctively. He frowned, running his fingers through his hair and untangling the locks with a distracted diligence. A thought came to him. "Peter, are you awake right now?"

Peter pulled away from Tony and stumbled away with movements that weren't so different from a marionette on strings— clumsy, up-and-down steps, with the illusion that something as thin and slight as a string was all that held his weight.

He stopped at the end of the hallway, fully turned around, and stared at Tony with wide, expectant eyes.

Tony confirmed in his head that, yes, Peter was sleep-walking. He also confirmed that yes, he would be going on whatever adventure the sleeping teenager wanted him to apparently go on. He followed him down the hallway.

'Down the hallway' turned into 'down the stairs', which Peter was surprisingly graceful at navigating. Peter had stopped again, next to the fridge, and just stood there without making a sound.

Tony quietly took a seat at the counter as he watched, making sure Peter wouldn't be getting himself into any kind of danger, and smiled with amusement as Peter's eyes drifted closed, then opened again a few moments later.

Peter opened the fridge.

"Hm," Tony hummed. "You hungry?"

"Gotta." Peter reached in, then pulled out a bottle of yellow mustard, turning it over in his hands, and then walking back to the counter to drop it there. He went back to the open fridge, reached his hand in again. Pulled out a vanilla pudding cup, the ones Pep bought for the kids' snack times, and dropped it in the same place.

"Mustard and pudding, huh? That one of May's recipes?"

Peter ignored him  in favor of walking back to the fridge. He retrieved the entire jar of mayonnaise, then trudged over to the silverware jar. Tony hid a smile in the crook of his fingers.

Imagine his surprise when the kid dawdled back over to very solemnly hand him said mayonnaise jar, as well as a comically large spoon that Tony didn't even remember they had.

"Oh, for me?" Tony asked. He took the mayonnaise, setting it on the counter. "Thank you so much. How did you know this was my favourite?"

"Best," Peter responded. "Best at the job. I won. And... And taxes."

Tony put up a valiant effort not to chuckle. "You'll have to tell me all about that when you wake up, then."

Peter nodded seriously, his eyes half-lidded as he sat down next to Tony at the counter. He opened the bottle of mustard and turned it over, for some mysterious and unknown reason began to shake it, and then put it back down on its side.

He honestly should be studied in a lab, Tony thought. Nobody else's kid was as interesting as this. And if they were, then no they weren't. Tony just simply refused to believe it.

"I have to buy alligators," Peter mumbled, picking up the cup of vanilla pudding and fumbling clumsily with the wrapper.

Tony carefully plucked the pudding cup away from him and set it farther away. He didn't know too much about sleepwalking, so he figured it was better safe than sorry on whether or not Peter would or should even be able to eat it while still... asleep.

"Oh, really?" He asked. "Alligators?"

Peter stared offensively at his empty hands, and looked up at Tony with his mouth wide open and his nose screwed up in irritation.

"Oh, ok. Didn't like that," Tony noted. "Well, how about I promise you that when you wake up, you can have all the pudding you want."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed and he turned to his hands, still looking wildly offended at the apparent theft. His frown deepened. "No..."

Tony stared uselessly. After a moment, he patted Peter on the hand. "Sorry."

Peter grunted. Then he gasped. He stood abruptly, the chair squeaking against the tile. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Tony's heart skipped a beat. He scans over the kid again, thinking maybe he missed something—

"I'm late," Peter said cryptically. "Gonna... got to go."

With that, he started at an alarmingly fast pace for the front door. Tony swore and slid as quickly out of the chair as he could, wincing as he did so.

He followed Peter down the hallway, and then Peter just— he was pacing back and forth, it seemed, whispering under his breath in a sleep-addled panic. He had grabbed a photo frame from the shelf set up at the entrance and was holding it in his hands.

Tony put a gentle hand on his elbow. "Hey, buddy," he tried. "How 'bout we get you back to bed?"

Peter jerked away from him, and Tony moved like he had hurt the kid by accident, his hands lurching back in alarm. Then Peter stalled, and swayed again on his feet. All that could be heard for a moment was the kid's quiet breathing.

Then, so quietly, he spoke. "Wait for me?"

Tony blinked rapidly as he processed the words. When he realized he was being asked a question directly, Peter's glassy eyes boring into his, he frowned. "Wait for what?"

Regardless, the answer was yes. Yes, always yes. Should anything happen, he would wait. Until both of their bodies have been reclaimed by the earth, Tony would still be there, waiting for his kid to come home to him. It's been proven, written in the stars with the destruction of alien ships and engine exhaust, that he would wait. Five years. Ten years. Ten hundred years. Forever.

Still, Peter's sleeping face looked so heartbroken now, and he whispered his next words just loud enough for Tony's old ears to catch them.

"For me to catch up."

It's so painfully innocent. He's pleading, he's desperate, even in his sleep.

Tony glanced down at the photo frame Peter still held in his hands— catching the glimpse of the two of them, five years younger, five years closer.

"Kid," Tony choked out.

Peter pressed the photo frame to his own chest, hugging it tight. He pulled away from Tony, slipping around him and trudging back up the stairs.

Tony's hand lay cold in the air, but after a brief moment of reining his tears back in, he followed Peter to the cabin's second floor.

The hallway was empty, but Peter's bedroom door was cracked open. Tony quietly pushed it open, and Peter was standing dazedly in the middle of it.

"Something new on the itinerary?" Tony asked hoarsely, his throat tight, his heart hurting.

Peter seemed to jump out of his skin, whipping his head around in alarm, and oh. This wasn't how asleep-Peter acted. He would know, as they've just been introduced fairly recently.

"Well, hello there. Good morning," Tony said, leaning against the doorframe. He made himself sound amused as possible.

"What is happening," Peter whispered loudly, his eyes wide. He still was hugging the damn photo to his chest. "Was I asleep standing up? Like a... like a horse?"

"Oh, you weren't just standing," Tony informed. Knowing now that Peter didn't seem to remember any of the events that happened while he slept, he gave him an easy smile. "You went on a whole rodeo, cowboy."

Peter's face went red, and he looked momentarily horrified. "What?"

"Yep. House-round trip, I'm afraid." Tony casually took the photo from him, and Peter, who was still dazed, let it go without hardly noticing. "You should get some actual rem sleep now. Maybe I'll invest in some bells around your door handle."

Peter hid his face in his hands and groaned. "That's so embarrassing. Please tell me you didn't get photos."

Tony smiled, running a hand through Peter's hair. "Hm, no, not this time. Next time for sure though. It's about time I started a new album, I think."

Peter leaned into the touch like moldable dough, which Tony took as his cue to gently guide him back to bed. They scuttled across the room, Peter noticeably more clumsily than him, and Tony lifted the covers.

(It seemed asleep-Peter either had the courtesy to make the bed after he got out of it, or, the more depressing possibility, awake-Peter had fallen asleep without getting into the bed at all.)

"Can we just—" Peter shook his head miserably. "—forget this? Ever happened? Like, all of it?"

"Hmm, let me think about it." Tony tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No."

He played it up like a joke, because that's what they're used to, the two of them. Banter, the back-and-forth, the easiness of it all. The photo frame burned in Tony's hand.

No, he wouldn't forget tonight. And tomorrow morning, once his kid has gotten a good eight hours, and a good meal, they'll talk about it. They'll keep talking about it until Tony is 100% sure that he gets it, the lengths he'd go for him, the hardships he'd endure to keep him safe— the time he'd lose for Peter to be safe and sound and himself, just the way he is.

That, he would wait for him.

But, he didn't have anything to wait for.

[decaydanceredacted]

admin help ive been thinking about girl pete (like actual cis always-a-girl pw) and how in that universe patrick would've put like four kids in her at this point 😖😖😖

like the first time they fuck, they're kids and it's a saturday night after a shitty show in some bar. and they're in patrick's room just messing around like they always do. but the adrenaline post show or whatever has them wired and one thing leads to another and suddenly patrick has his fingers down the front of her jeans. and pete has her fingers around his and is showing him how to touch her and she's so fucking wet and needy she let's him hit it raw (because they're dumb kids and just best friends at this point and no one thought of a condom). patrick comes almost instantly because he's seventeen and it's the first time he's getting his dick wet so of course he doesn't pull out. the mere idea of pregnancy, the feeling of patrick's warm come inside and dripping out gets pete so hot she ends up flipping them and riding patrick's face into oblivion. they go to sleep wrapped in each other and have breakfast with patrick's mom like nothing happened <3

except they keep fucking through the years. maybe they don't even officially date, pete has her string of partners and one night stands and patrick has his number of girlfriends, but from time to time post show celebrations or nights at the studio or fights around the songs end up with them fucking. in the van, behind a bar, in a bathroom or in green rooms. and they always do it raw and patrick gets such a possessive kick out of it bc he knows only he gets to have pete like this. none of her boyfriends get to come inside her and rub her belly right bellow her womb tat while he's still deep inside her pussy and no one else gets to see their come dripping down her thighs.

their first kid is deffo unplanned. a drunk fuck after some record party or whatever, too horny to even think of the consequences. and ughhhhhhhhhhh what if pete is already married/engaged at this point??? does your husband know??? that the baby isn't his???????? god, another win for infidelity.

the hate sex doing folie is extra hot. not only bc it's how their arguments end up but bc he knows he's gonna leave her so there's a morbid desire of patrick to leave a bit of him in her as a reminder that she's his. meanwhile pete's thinking if she can baby trap him. it's awful on both parts and it doesn't work anyways.

baby number 2 is the reunion baby. they've been writing songs together again and they just can't help it, they end up fucking in the floor of patrick's home studio. they keep working on their shitty songs and they keep fucking and they get the band together and they have their comeback album and it's a success and truly it is like reunion sex because they can't keep their hands off each other. the pregnancy is like the culmination of everything they worked up to this point to fix, a reminder of the commitment they have to each other now and a promise to never leave again.

baby 3 i guess would be around ab/ap era? early mania??? idk it's the honeymoon baby. they've just settled and they've gotten their heads out of their asses and they know they want to expend the rest of their lives together, so baby. or maybe they have a quarantine baby???

4th baby is deffo current era. they've finally, after everything in the world and with them, found the joy in what they do. and their record is so loved and they can look at the past now and the tour has been amazing. and maybe they're aboard and having the sweetest most disgustingly sappy married sex. you know weeding rings clinking and slow caress and i love yous mumbled against skin. truly sickening in love sex. and after all these years, more than two decades jesus christ, patrick just knows how to play her like an instrument. he knows just how to flick his fingers and how to use his mouth just right to have pete under him shaking and whimpering and so wet. he gets her to come twice before he even fucks into her. and pete grabs his face and pulls him up and rubs her thumb against his beard, wet with all her slick and come, and tells him she kinda wants to have another kid. and patrick just shakes and kisses her so hard because he's been thinking about it too and there's nothing he wouldn't give to pete. all of it has always been about giving pete what she wanted since he was a kid. something about her pulling him in and wanting to do anything she asked just so she would look at him and only him.

they come back from china with a plus one.

fin.

(PSA kids don't do any of this. fucking use a condom ffs)

.

[casualaruanienjoyer]

post war Jeanpiku?

Hello anon! Thank you for requesting something so tasty!😭 I love Jeanpiku. I've not writted Pieck so I hope I can nail it!

Anyway, onwards!!

Sharing a bed

Jean and Pieck bicker often. So often, in fact, that their tents at Fort Salta couldn't be further apart.

It's only been a couple of weeks since the rumbling and things were still looking pretty unstable around Fort Salta. Armin, now commander, was tasked with organizing everything from resources to communication. They would do manual labour during the day, and meetings late in the evenings.

Jean was Armin's right hand, and he was there to support him no matter what. But tonight there is no meeting.

The catastrophic events of the rumbling had affected the weather, making it extremely unpredictable. Today was one of those days.

The rainfall was short but heavy enough to damage some tents. Armin and Muller decided it would be best to sort out the issue during daylight, so everyone was asked to form groups and share some of the intact tents for the night.

This is why, unfortunately, Jean is now stuck between a snoring Connie and a smirking Pieck. His tent never felt this small before. They had to push two makeshift mattresses together to fit the three of them, and even so it was still very much shoulder to shoulder. Fortunately for Jean, Connie fell asleep the moment he hit the mattress. At least he didn't have to deal with him tonight. Unfortunately, he has other problems.

Jean rests on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling of their tent. His back feels stiff and he cannot relax for the life of him.

"Look, don't get too cosy in here, alright?" Jean is uncomfortable. Not that those shitty mattresses were ever comfortable to begin with, but at least before all this he had his own space. -Personal- space. Which is now breached by an intruder.

"Aw but Jean, I'm just trying to relax a bit" Pieck teases him. She's resting on her side, awfully close to him.

"Remind me again WHY you had to pick OUR tent to sleep in?" Jean groaned. "Why couldn't you pick Annie's?"

"She's sharing it with her dad, and his reduced mobility means he needs the extra space" she shifts to rest her head in her palm, elbow digging into her pillow. "Besides, I think we need to work on -us- a bit, you know?"

"What does -that- mean?!" He hisses at her, but keeps his voice low. He really doesn't want to deal with two pricks tonight.

"You know, I feel like you don't really like me. And I want to know why". Pieck's hair cascades over her shoulders, and Jean avoids looking at her visible cleavage.

It's not that he didn't like Pieck. After all these years, Jean still didn't know how to approach girls he had a crush on. Yes, Pieck is, unfortunately, exactly his type. Long, black hair, soft eyes and a nice figure. But unlike Mikasa, who was stoic and level-headed, Pieck was seriously driving him nuts: cunning, mysterious and above all, a seductive devil.

She knew exactly what she was doing every time she teased him around camp and every time she tried to hug him tightly. She's manipulative and Jean has no idea how to deal with women like her.

Every other girl he met in the military had always been very righteous, disciplined, well maybe except for Sasha. Pieck is a mystery to him. An alien.

"You're making it very hard for me to like you, quite frankly" he crosses his arms over his chest, sighing. "There's nothing to talk about, we should sleep."

"Ooor, you could tell me what I could do to make you feel more comfortable around me~". She whispers in a low purr, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"First of all, stop that. You always overdo it" Jean manages to look at her, trying to remain calm. But even in the dark she looks so beautiful that he can't help but blush.

"Overdo what, exactly?"

"Y-your flirting. It's not elegant at all." He mutters, looking back up at the ceiling. It's so much easier to talk when her face isn't a distraction.

Pieck's eyes widen. "Flirting? Me? With you??". But her tone is playful.

"Look, if you want something just tell me. I don't enjoy being teased. And I certainly don't like girls who play with my feelings" he shifts, uncomfortable. Now he's done it.

"Is that what you think of me...?" Pieck whispers, sounding somewhat sad.

"Well, you're confusing, that's for sure." He pauses, measuring his words. "Look...guys like girls that are direct." He sighs. "How am I supposed to know if your flirting is genuine or not-?"

"Kiss me"

Jean blinks. Once, twice. His face reddens.

"What?!"

"You want me to be direct? I can be. So kiss me." She whispers, pointing at her lips.

This can't be real.

"Pieck, I swear, if this is another one of your games-"

"Jean, I know you like me"

Silence. Utter silence. Jean wishes he could disappear.

"W-what makes you think that?!"

"You're not very good at hiding it, you know?" She laughs softly.

Jean closed his eyes, thinking of of all the choices that led to this very moment. All the times he found himself glancing her way. The times where they worked together day and night. The way she made him feel like he was falling in love again. He was already a lost cause, might as well go for it, right? "And what if I do?"

"Then kiss me"

💜This fic is now also on AO3 !

[starryredpandawrites]

The newest bendy bites be absolutely peak I’m all the more for it (I would love to rant forever about this but sadly sleep is needed for a brain to function so this will do)

First of - first Aid

The transition between food in the cycle and how it works for healing… (besides Henry… is not like this for some reason, he literally just has a passive constant healing effect in Batim it’s never acknowledged nor questioned even then Dark revival speaificly set up, idk if it will be the same in The Cage, admittedly kinda doubt it but it would be just an extra layer of fucked if Joey designed Henry to heal form his injuries at a rapid enough pace where he can get hurt, heal back up, and get hurt again without “dying”) gigantic rant aside. It’s unclear if the Ink demon can even get hurt physically enough for the sake of needing food to survive - or simply based of the fact he’s a gigantic ink monster that’s also a living breathing being that gets hungry and needs to eat a lot just to keep himself vigilant and perhaps not as “mindless” (cus like… he can’t starve to death, surely and sadly the Keepers would have found that out quickly) like say Batim pre “evolving”

It’s sadly not a topic that’s explored even then getting consumed is perma death in the cycle by itself (Inky, the widow king, Shipohoy Wilson & Steve respectively I belive to be the only ones we know can achieve this in DR)

My gibberish aside- Inky & Bendy would know that getting hurt in the cycle you’d need like a nice snack of a whole meal just to recover. Audery having fallen and scrapped up her knee on her way home from work and bleeding isn’t gonna magically fix itself in the real world. And that may very well take a good few attempts to really stick, yet even the cartoon logic and probably flexibility of Audrey’s body that few take advantage of will probably cause her to get less hurt but like… Shipohoy still snapped her legs at the top femur - bones are infact still in there. So Audrey would either have to teach him how wounds work, maybe some anatomy and what is really bad for a body to actually break or damaged and what is truely severe and what needs prioritizing (like how to hurt people who hurt his sister and make it hurt truely last)

Still, it could be something he’d mock her for probably in being clumsy and getting hurt, but I can also see him being worried about her for it. Not knowing what to do and feeling frustrated or helpless at food nor working anymore, so having to think and do other methods to ensure that she is safe and out of harms way. Could progress into learning more of the inner workings of animals to or simply Audery also returning the favors figuring out how to help Bendy in either of his form if he ever gets messed up. Just stuff like that

Thank you!!! I love rants but I'm glad you've chosen to prioritize sleep, haha. Also, these are good good thoughts, thank you for sharing 🥰

There would certainly be a tall learning curve for Bendy regarding injuries in the real world.

I imagine the Keepers would have done everything possible to kill Bendy and obviously it just doesn't work, including starvation. He doesn't need to eat, but he enjoys it a lot. It's his first and favorite hobby lol

He can get injured/stabbed/crushed but he heals really, really quickly. Like Henry, he would have a passive healing factor but much higher/faster. He doesn't have a lot of experience getting injured except for the Keepers.

I'm thinking he'll either have the same healing factor as in the ink world or it will be somewhat slowed. Leaning toward the latter because the idea of Audrey having to teach him first aid is cute. Imagine he trips and scrapes his knee and freaks out that he's still bleeding even tho it's been more than 2 seconds. He thinks he's dying and Audrey has to explain that injuries don't get magically healed here. She bandages his booboo and gives it a lil' kiss. Then, the next day it's her turn to be baffled because the injury is completely gone and she has to revise her statement about magical healing.

Imagine he actually believes her kiss healed him and she's just like, actually, I may have been wrong about you not being able to heal here, oops

Audrey is definitely more resilient than the average person but not invincible, like you said. She might able to bend her finger back pretty far but she still has bones that can break.

If Audrey ever got hurt he would totally do the thing where your sibling falls and your first reaction is to laugh your head off until you realize they're still on the ground and the worry hits. Then he would try to fix it by bringing her a snack. Audrey has to explain multiple times that injuries take time to heal in the outside world and he is very mad about it. Eventually, he would get used to it but secretly starts keeping a list of reasons the ink world is superior to the real world. He never shares it because it's a much shorter list than he expected.

Quick tangent, I don't think he's so naive that he wouldn't know what death is, but I do think he might forget how it works. Imagine he kills something, a bird or a deer and Audrey finds its half-eaten remains. She would scold him for being wasteful and he'd be like, If I eat all of it then it won't come back. Audrey has to remind him several times that death is permanent here and that deer isn't coming back no matter what.

Queue anxiety about Audrey permadying and she also has to remind him that the cycle is wayyyy more dangerous and that her chances of dying there (and possibly getting consumed) are way higher than in the real world.

Fun thoughts, thank you for the ask 🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

[pomplalamoose]

we need some domestic headcanons for luke 😭 i absolutely LOVE you for putting out so much luke content for the faint of heart

Making as much Luke content as I can is my mission here so thanks for your ask!!!🫶🏻

I hope this is what you wanted, if not, you are always welcome to ask for something more specific <3

• despite what he wants his Padawans and others to believe, Luke likes to sleep in

• of course he can't admit to that out loud because he's trying to be a good role model

• so outwardly he puts in great effort to be the stern and responsible teacher

• you, however, know better

• while he is never even a second too late and appeares out of thin air just when he is expected, he loves slow mornings in bed

• especially with you in his arms

• he's a "ohhh just five more minutes" kinda guy but tends to really REALLY stretch that saying

• until the five more minutes quickly turn into "shit I overslept" and suddenly he's scrambling, trying to do everything at once, often forgetting to get his breakfast in the process

• he never learns his lesson either which makes it even funnier 

• his students would have a blast if you told them the truth about their Master

• (even more so if they knew how he drools in his sleep)

• sometimes, after an especially hard day of training or a long excursion, he allows his Padawans a day of rest 

• what they don't know is that he enjoys those more than they do

• finally he has some time to sleep as long as he wants to

• while he also likes surprising you with an extravagant breakfast in bed, he much prefers to prepare it together 

• also, since we're on the topic, I think he'd be really into having brunch 

• when he has scraps of time in his every day life, he does his share of household chores 

• wearing an apron 

• so his very nice black clothes don't get dirty

• listen, I don't know where he got it from, maybe it was lying around some day because you took it off and forgot to put it away again 

• possibly it says something cheesy on the front, like "kiss the cook"

• OR even better, it has ruffles 

• either way he manages to look hot in it

• something about his broad frame in tight fitting clothes, his sleeves rolled up and a big apron bow at the back makes you want to climb him like a tree

• most of the time he is a very orderly person too, keeping your shared living space tidy and clean 

• except when it comes to his socks 

• they're lying around everywhere

• and I mean EVERYWHERE

• at the beginning of the week, after he did the laundry on Sundays, they are neatly folded and stacked in his drawer

• once they are out, they are out though 

• it's like they have a will of their own 

• so when he eventually runs out of clean ones, he has to painstakingly search every last corner of every room to get them all back together 

• on the plus side he's really good at building and fixing all kinds of things

• it definitely has to do with the way he grew up and he likes to do it too; it helps him get his mind off things 

• I totally see him forcing one or more of his students to help him out as a form of detention 

• (it's low-key fun though)

• he's like a dad in those moments, going full "hold that flashlight for me JUST like that" mode

• also he recruits them for extra credit from time to time when he's working on a special project 

• of course he could also put droids to work but insists on letting his Padawans do it, because "it's an important part of their education"

• (he likes having them around)

• he often tells them fun stories while they're at it and since he is a great story teller, they always have a good time 

• during the children's free time he allows himself to be more easy going with them and is totally down to play dress up or hide and seek

• occasionally he gets invited to little tea parties and picnics 

• also I think he'd try to make the introduction to meditation easy and more appproachable for the little ones by making them color out mandalas 

• (he likes mandalas too)

• he's horribly allergic to kiwis but doesn't know because he never encountered one before 

• (and probably never will, are there kiwis in space?)

• sometimes he randomly goes missing during the day 

• if that's the case there's a high chance he's off somewhere snorkeling to look at fishies 

• it's very hard to get his attention then and every call falls on deaf ears

• rumor has it he does it on purpose 

• when he eventually leaves the water sopping wet, with his pants clinging to him tightly, everyone forgives him easily enough though 

• especially his older students like to wait out for these moments

• I kind of see that turning into an event 

• he never quite understands what's going on but is delighted to see so many coming up to him

• (he understands very well but pretends he doesn't when you indignantly throw a towel and him, telling him to cover up)

[eluxcastar]

The little sisterfication of Sandrone

── ୨୧：sandrone & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: sandrone being a moody tsundere child but it's cute

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child character

୨୧﹑words :: 828

omg so I meant to do more of these back when I posted childe's but then I just never got around to it Idk why because they were cute and people wanted more of them and I actually have one for scaramouche in my drafts?? so here's sandrone

all little siblingification posts

Sandrone is not the fondest of her family, and I really don't think she ever has been, but there are exceptions, as with everything. She still holds you dear to her even now.

She misses your affections, really, like being sat in front of you while you would fix her hair. She likes how it feels as you brush the knots out of her hair, gentle enough not to hurt too much and overly apologetic to every noise she makes so that you know she's not too hurt by it. She doesn't know how you did it, just that she would recreate it in a heartbeat.

There were also the times you'd carry her around on your back, body tired and walking becoming too difficult. While her parents didn't want to hear of it, you were on your knees in a heartbeat, offering she gets on. Sandrone liked how close she got to be to you, snuggling up to your back, arms loosely around your neck as she looked over your shoulder and watched the streets go by. Your parents never liked your doing that, but you never seemed to care, laughing it off and carrying on, refusing to put her down.

You didn't care if she denied her liking for things or hid her overexcitement. The moment she wanted to go somewhere, you would take her if you could. Festivals, stores, events, the theatre if you had the money. You would save up every single mora you worked for to be able to take her to the theatre for her birthday and let her watch the performance. She was only vaguely aware of how little your parents contributed toward that, thinking they had been a part of it just as you told her it was a gift from all of you.

She'd go on talking about it for weeks, then start again by the time her next birthday came.

She loved the snacks you'd sneak her, buying her things while the two of you were out and feeding them to her over your shoulder, even your own snacks, which she claimed to not want, but would gobble up without a hint of hesitation before admitting they were only "Ok".

Along with these trips she remembers, Sandrone treasures every doll you made her. Even the wonky ones you tried to make by hand when you were a little short on cash. They weren't particularly pretty in a conventional sense and didn't have the same flawless charm as many dolls, nor were they made of porcelain.

Your handmade fabric dolls are imperfectly perfect. The eyes are a bit misaligned, and maybe the mouth is crooked. The arms aren't the same length either, but it hardly matters to her. It was your gift to her, and though she couldn't sit with you and marvel at how beautiful she was like your other gifts of dolls, she could certainly do that herself.

She could sit those dolls among her collection and treat them like priceless works of care and passion because they were. You may not be and probably never will be a famous dollmaker, but they're the most valuable in her heart.

No famous artist would make something that unprofessional, but something about that makes it better. It was made with your love for her.

Besides, she's still sleeping with the first one you made her. Porcelain dolls don't make very good bed buddies. Especially not when trying to sneak into your sibling's bed in the middle of the night to cuddle them where you feel safest. Somehow even if she's so sure she can go back to sleep after she wakes up, she will lay there for what feels like hours (it has been five minutes) and try to sleep only to concede that the other way to sleep is to go get in your bed and cuddle you.

She usually wakes up without you, wrapped up in blankets to keep her warm, and to you shaking her awake after leaving her to sleep in, probably because she stayed up too late. Sandrone's presence is not always unwanted, but you wish she'd stop staying up until ungodly hours of the night to do whatever it is she's doing at that hour, but at least you cover for her. You always tell your parents she's off playing, all the while knowing that you've concealed her in your bed and wait until there's an opportunity to drag her out of bed, clothe and feed her.

It's nice to sleep in sometimes.

Every time you try to leave, there's a child-sized growth attached to your leg, begging you to stay and play with her, usually because she's bored and has no one else willing to entertain her. You wish you could, but know you have to pull her off, kiss her head, and set her back down on the floor.

She wishes you would kiss her forehead in that way even now.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[blue-macaron]

your war is over

synopsis: rei and the aftermath of his execution, except this time he has you

characters: rei sakuma

x gn!reader, angst with comfort, ~1.1k words total, a bit of character exploration(?)

tw: some imaginations of violence that are towards self, self depreciating thoughts, some religious stuff (not much)

a/n: ...Well I’ve been gone for a while. This was mostly a word vomit to write something, and dang this got turned into angst quick. I’ll try to offer a more happier work in the future, hope you enjoy!

God, is it possible to be any more tired then he felt at the moment? He feels torn apart, left to rot by the student council that includes Keito and Eichi Tenshouin, and damn for the first time he feels like he doesn’t want to help anyone because he just wants to curl up into a ball and sleep.

He can imagine the vultures picking at his now deceased body, mimicking how the students of Yumenosaki were so quick to isolate him and the rest of the group he calls his friends, the chance of blaming someone else for their faults was just too easy to grab. Maybe if he was a little stronger or hanged on just a bit more he could survive, but damn it’s so easy to want to let go of something that doesn’t even feel it could be in your grasp. It’s so easy to feel out of your skin when that exact skin feels like it is pulling you in 10 different directions and melting off your body, wanting to shed it off to get comfort for the first time.

The feeling of being so out of your zone makes him feel like a thin rope snapping at any second, yet for the love of God he doesn’t feel anything towards it. The thought of being left alone both comfort and scare the shit out of him, cause he both wants it and doesn’t want it, he wants to be comforted but he also doesn’t want others too see him in a such a sorry state that he had done to himself, the hole in the ground that he had dug with his bare hands.

It felt like he had a black thick ooze around him, tainting everything that he touches, the clothes he wore. That ooze felt like it trailed after him, following him and laughing at him as he screwed himself over by traveling everywhere to fix the problems that plagued the schools. Each time he fixed a problem, more would pop up and multiply. Each time he fixed a problem it also came with people relying on him and seeing him like some sort of god that could do anything. It did once feel like he was on top of the world except now that world is crashing and burning down now that everything is over, now that he is exterminated.

His home is now so far away because he pushed it away, he left it to rot because of his selfish needs to give the world everything that he knew he didn’t have, that he would never have. His home is somewhere else and damn it he wants it back, but he knows he out of all people doesn’t deserve that home because of what he had done to it. Everything feels like it’s on fire, that everything that he built for himself was in flames and now they are ashes, and those ashes are blowing away in the wind that he himself is creating.

And he himself is the reason why he played in Tenshouin’s hands, let himself be carried in this rotting play that brings him at least a little excitement in his lonely life that wasn’t there before. Yeah, he’ll play the villain, cause there’s no way he’s gonna be a hero in this world full of crime and hopelessness. But all of what he’s said is shit because what he is saying is going against everything that actually happened. Cause he had someone, he had someone that was his home, but he really did lose them, lose something that is one of a kind and that he truly doesn’t deserve after what he has done. He’ll ingrain that in his brain until the day he dies but isn’t he already dead?.

Yet time and time again he will be stumped by the way his home comes back to him after every single time he leaves, after all he’s done. He knows he should let go of his home, yet he craves the way it embraces him, the way it will shelter him from the outside world that is pounding on the walls to get to him. His home loves him unconditionally, it loves him not just because of his titles, not because he is known to help solve problems, but it loves him because his home knows he will love them just the same. That love is built on the trust and the raw feelings that had existed between them since they bonded, since they met. That home makes him feel like he could hold the world in his hands, and yet that world isn’t Earth but his home itself.

That home is not just any home but where he can finally rest and not have to deal with fixing everything, including himself. But you don’t deserve to be called just a home, you deserve to be called his other half, his sun, his equal. He loves you so much that every single time he left he felt pieces of himself break off, but he hopes those pieces ended up with you.

The comfort of your hands running through his hair was heavenly, the way you cupped his face and wiped away the tears that he didn’t even realize were running down his face. He wasn’t sure if you would scream at him, if you would punch him, turn him away or ignore him completely, tell him that he really means his first name. Instead of all that, you hold his hands with both of yours and invite him inside, guide him to your bedroom and let him rest. You had every right to be mad at him, but instead you only show him comfort. You call him 零, Rei, and each time you call him by his name it feels less like the meaning of zero, of nothing, and instead zero, of a new start. The arms that gently wrap around him and ground him back to reality are what helps him feel alive, what helps him feel safe. And damn it, you are one of the best things that happened to him and he would be a fool to think otherwise. If he was mistakenly given to you by some higher power he’s surely not going to say anything, not going to say anything that could screw him over and take away one of the best things that was brought to him.

It won’t be a while until this war ends, until the rest of the Oddballs are executed by Tenshouin. And yeah, he feels like restarting his damn life. But the thing that he hadn’t realized was that you were waiting for him throughout all of this, silently supporting this guy that screwed over so many times. This time, he’ll restart his life, except he will have you with him, side by side, facing life together.

[dailyunstableeve]

I’ve been non-stop listening to this song, Natalie by Mckenna Grace. I couldn’t help it but to think this song is my Spidersona, Eve and Miguel. 

I wish I could draw it out but my talent in art is limited so I thought maybe it would be nice if I just used words to visualize it. 

You can listen to it while reading it too 💕

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

She's got something about her

It's easy when you're around her

Miguel is used to working solo like any spiderman would, after the spider society is founded, he’s mostly with Jess. Since Jess is pregnant, Miguel would secretly look after Jess. Eve joined the group and Miguel would find his job of capturing anomalies a lot easier than before. As in dropping the idea of constantly getting worried at Jess because Miguel and Eve would get it done most of the time. 

A big smile and dark eyes you get lost in

Eve is a cheerful person, she’s a big sister to everyone or a mom figure for everyone, because of her ability to look after people, like how she cares for Miguel. Eve basically cares about everyone more than herself. 

Eve and Miguel would hang out from time to time, Eve is always there to try to crack a few smiles or laugh from Miguel but Miguel is mostly in his serious mode. But little does that Eve doesn’t know, Miguel loves watching Eve smile, holding onto eye contact as she was talking to him. 

She's the first on the dancefloor

Eve is an 80% extrovert, she will never be able to resist the temptation of music and always dance along with it. 

Small Flashback from the Christmas fic (You can find it in the Masterlist), Miguel gifted her a vinyl of classic music and she loves dancing with it. 

Watch her laugh, the kind you would fall for

This will be the same explanation of “A big smile and dark eyes you get lost in” 

She'll always be there when you're calling

She'll hold your hand in the crowd (Ahh)

Miguel often would have nightmares about what happened in Gabi’s Universe, that he will keep on working and working until he thinks he did enough (he never did). When it comes to night that he couldn’t sleep, Eve would accompany him, she would sit in the office together with Miguel as he continued the work. 

The kinda girl you'd write a song about

Or, write a poem about (They had a poem bet before) 

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Her flexibilities, her ideas of fixing problems, all learned from F.E.A.S.T. Which brought her a huge advantage when it comes to keeping everyone on check. 

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

Miguel believes he’s a monster, sometimes he wishes to be like Eve, that everyone in the Society adores Eve while Miguel is just a boss to them. 

I'd like to know

Natalie

She's always fun at parties

Walks in looking so carefree

She shines and I feel a little lighter

‘Parties’ take it as the band show she’ll be in every weekend with Hobie, Gwen, Miles and Pav. Eve would never know that Miguel actually watches her show every time. At start Miguel is just watching from his office then he starts to appear in Hobie’s universe just to watch the band show. 

Miguel loves to watch how Eve just spreads her wings and sings out her best, it does give him a slight relaxation of how he doesn’t need to be so strict to everythings.  

Brown hair right past her shoulders

Confidence that makes her seem older

Eve has brown hair, except she dyed it to red (since Red is her favorite color). Miguel and Eve have an age gap of around 8-9 years (I heard Miguel is around his age around 30 while Eve is 23 by the time she joined the society) Sometimes, Miguel would forget about Eve’s age due to how she handles the situation no matter how bad it is. 

I wish I was a little like her

She'll hold your hand in the crowd (Ahh)

The kinda girl you'd write a song about

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

I'd like to know

Natalie

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh)

Natalie

Feel like the moon watching the sun

Miguel is like the moon, and also he is a crazy workaholic at night. And the moon is only able to shine because of the sun. He thinks that with Eve around, he could do so much better, turning the society into a better place

So many stars but she's the one

That everybody needs

Out of every Spiderman he recruited, Miguel believes Eve is the one (no hate towards other spiderman, spiderwoman and spidersona, I love all of them)

(Oh, oh, oh)

I'd like to be like that for once

How does it feel to be so loved?

Could you show me how to be?

After losing Gabi, Miguel basically told himself that he doesn’t deserve anything anymore until Eve appears. Eve showed Miguel that it’s okay to embrace the mistake and learn to fix it, she showed him warmth and he wishes to return that favor too. 

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

I'd like to know

Natalie

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh)

Natalie

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

a/n: this is mostly of how Miguel viewed my Spidersona and I've been urging to write about it for so long because the song is so beautiful 😭😭😭

Masterlist