#also I can’t draw hands ahhhh

[sunny1927]

I don’t think I’ve ever shown my human character art in this wow (Sunny doesn’t count even tho she looks like a human).

So I drew out my OC! (She was originally my school work I had to do)

Meet Dorothy! ❤️✨

Still learning how to draw humans :,)

(Ignore the lazy shading) But yeahhh enjoy!

[crowtrobotx]

Every good fic needs a piece of cover art, right?

[eepwriting]

the way I NEED a iii x reader, where he pulls them away for a quickie rightttt before he’s gotta be onstage. mans is wild and makes his own rules, ok? probably has the crew panicking, probably almost misses his cue, probably leaves reader side-stage, ravished and dripping with his…

Please? <3

Let Me In ✶ III x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, intercourse, public? sex

AHHHH this request!!! I'm eating it up anon thank you! Also this is SHORT I’m sorry 😞

!! mdni !!

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You watch Vessel from afar, hopping up and down, his hands wringing at his sides. II and IV stand off to the side in a quiet conversation and the girls are gathered in a small huddle nearby. The rest of the crew running around, making sure everything was in order for the night. With a solid fifteen minutes before they needed to be on stage, the energy behind the scenes was high and somewhat chaotic.

"Hey, come with me a sec." You don’t even hear him walk up behind you but III's voice is close to your ear, his hand dancing on your back.

His eyes are full of mischief when you spin around to look at him. "For what?" You let out a quiet laugh. His brows wiggle under his mask and he shoots you a wink. You feel heat rise to your neck and give him a bashful smile. “What? No! You have maybe twelve minutes before you need to be out there.” Your whisper is rushed as you look up at him in disbelief.

He grabs your hand and starts to walk backwards, dragging you along with him. “It’s okay, I don’t need long.” You can tell he has a grin plastered on his face with the way his eyes crinkle.

You can’t deny the excitement and rush that runs through you as he drags you to the green room. The two of you have had your fair share of fooling around before and after shows but never with such a time crunch. With the way iii kept excitedly looking back at you it was hard to say no to him.

He’s quick to close and lock the door behind you, his hands pushing against your hips til you’re pressed against the nearest wall. His mask comes off in a quick tug before it’s shoved into his back pocket. He wastes no time when reaching for your bottoms, fingers making quick work to tug them down your thighs. You’re able to move fast enough in grabbing his face, dragging it down to your own as your own hands work his belt through the loops of his pants. “We really shouldn’t be doing this right now.” You mumble against his lips, although your hands still push his pants off his hips.

He chuckles as he pulls away from you, his hand cupped near his mouth as he coats his palm with spit. “Like I said, I don’t need long.” He grunts when his wet hand makes contact with his cock. “But I just really need you right now.”

He looks so desperate and needy for you and it sends a crashing wave of desire through you as you look at him impatiently pumping his hand over himself. You reach out for him, hooking a leg around his hip. His mouth meets yours again after he coats his cock a second time, bending his knees to fit against you better as his hips grind against yours. One hand grips the side of your knee, keeping your leg splayed open for him, the other finds its way in between the two of you to work between your legs. You make a poor attempt to stifle a moan, not wanting to draw any attention to where the two of you had disappeared to. III smiles against your lips and speeds up the movement of his fingers. “I know, I got you.” He breathes into your mouth, the head of his cock sinking into you slowly. “That’s it, let me in.”

Your heart races at the sound of footsteps outside the door but the fact that anyone could knock on the door, and surely hear the two of you, only added to the insurmountable amount of need you were feeling right now. “Shit, love.” III’s words are mumbled against the side of your neck as his hips snap to yours quickly. Open mouth kisses travel up your neck, pausing to lightly nibble on your earlobe. “Anyone could hear me fucking you right now. That turns you on, doesn’t it? Could cum just thinking about it.” He can barely get the words out before they’re cut off by a deep groan against your neck. You have to bite over your bottom lip roughly to contain the sounds you desperately want to let out.

You know he’s close when his thrusts turn messy and he can barely keep his hand moving between your legs, letting you take over for him. You’re right there with him, teetering on the edge. Even with his mouth muffling most of your sounds, you know they’re still loud, but when that lovely feeling comes crashing down over you, being quiet is the last thing on your mind. III’s hips move on their own against yours, buried fully when he finishes. He’s somewhat better at hiding his groans but it was definitely no secret now which room the two of you occupied.

III lazily pecks your lips and cheek before he pulls out of you with a hiss. You barely have a moment to collect yourself before a startling string of pounds sound on the door. “III, c’mon man! What’re doing in there? You gotta be on in 3 minutes!”

You have to stifle a laugh as you watch iii struggle to get his bearings. His cock still hard as he pulls his pants back up. His hair a mess but at least you couldn’t even tell when he pulls his mask over his face. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on!” He pulls the mask over his mouth once more before he pecks your lips again. “Well I already did, but you know what I mean.” He says loud enough for only you to hear, making you muffle another giggle. He gives you goofy smile before tugging his mask back down.

“What the hell, man.” You can’t put a face to the voice once the door opens but you can definitely register the confusion, panic and slight disappointment in their tone. III closes the door behind him and you hope which ever crew member that was didn’t see you. You didn’t want everyone to know you were part of the reason iii was late. Who knows what kind of relentless teasing you’d endure.

You move as quickly as you can in redressing yourself, not even trying to wipe away the black smears on your hips and thighs. You manage to sneak out of the room without any weird looks but you had a feeling everyone knew.

How iii managed to make it to stage on time was a mystery to you. The telltale sign that he was right on time evident by the loud applause and the all too familiar opening song sounding just as it should.

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Guyssss I just loved this request!!! BUT I am struggling to write omg I gotta pick up the pace.

ANON!! Thank you for this request once again, I’m giving you a fat kiss on the forehead for it 😚

K. Bye bye.

[literaila]

listening ears 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: in which peter is terrible at keeping secrets. and socks. 

warnings: idiots to friends to lovers, no angst just pining, arguments, fluff, ahhhh

a/n: heres the link to the playlist. for a real time experience, listen. (this makes it sound like an amusement park which i think is funny)

word count: 10k

the first time you meet him, you're listening to sad music. 

it's unclear which song--being that it's late enough that they've begun to blur together, instrumental shifting to piano and soft sullen voices and heartbeats you can't hear but feel--but it rings in your ears as he walks by. 

as spider-man is suddenly in front of you, suddenly right in front of your bench, flashing blue and red and ego and playing with some weird white string between his fingers. 

you're also fairly certain that he's cursing. 

so, quietly, you hit pause on your phone, taking out an earbud. you watch him, hoping that he's already noticed your presence. 

hoping that maybe he'll leave and there will be no questioning--from either of you--about what you're doing out this late on a night like this. 

the snow on your head has melted, turning your hair several different forms of wet. 

and when spider-man has not looked up, or any other place he might be mugged, you, graciously, clear your throat. 

alerting him of your presence and beginning an attempt to beg him to leave. 

spider-man, unsurprisingly, jumps back. 

his white eyes are wide, but that might just be the costume. 

you smile and wave. 

"wha--" he looks around, behind himself, like you might be waving at someone else. "when did you get there?" he asks. 

his voice is quieter than you've heard it before. less animated. maybe a bit rough, or sore. 

you tilt your head, lifting a brow. "about an hour ago." 

spider-man stares blankly at you. "no." 

you contemplate laughing, or maybe tripping him with your leg as he peers closer at you, but ultimately hum. "okay." you drawl, "maybe i didn't." 

your smile is soft. your voice is abundantly sweet. 

you do not doubt that if spider-man wanted to, he could make both of you disappear in an instant. 

not that you're afraid, of course. you've seen the news. and experienced an average day in new york. 

spider-man tries again to pull his hands apart. fails. 

"sticky?" you ask him, swinging your legs. 

you think--but really just know--that spider-man glares at you. 

and then, with the subtleness of a child, he leans up again, straightening his back. clears his throat like he's got a lot to say. "what are you doing out so late?" 

his voice might be even deeper now, as some method of intimidation. 

unfortunately for him, you got over your fear of spiders a couple of months ago. 

"i could ask you the same thing," you respond. 

spider-man does not find this amusing, apparently, because he just stares at you. waiting and watching. 

eventually, maybe just to evade some awkward silence approaching, you sigh and relent. "i was drawing," you say, gesturing to the notebook you set aside. 

you don't tell him about the music, or your sore eyes. 

or about how when he first showed up you almost fell off the bench. 

these are things he probably doesn't need to know, you think. 

spider-man must frown or something because he grumbles out his next question. "drawing?" he repeats. "at three in the morning? in the dark?" 

"there's a light right there," you point to the streetlight above your head, the picture of innocence. 

you continue to smile at this man, if only because he seems to find it immensely irritating. 

"aren't you cold?" 

"the weather?" you furrow your brows, criticizing him. "c'mon, i thought you were better than that." 

"it's snowing." 

"i hadn't noticed." 

"your paper is getting wet--" he points to your notebook, to the soiled edges. 

it's the first thing to make you frown since he's shown up. 

"shit," you whisper, brushing some snow and lead off of the paper. "i liked this one." 

"sorry." spider-man clears his throat again. he bounces between feet like he's freezing. 

"is spandex warm?" you ask him, leaning forward. 

"i'm fine."

you frown. "are you always this grumpy? or is it just cause i scared ya?" 

"you didn't scare me." 

"must be the hands then," you say, leaning over so you can try and see the hands he's kept hidden behind his back. 

but spider-man pulls them out--two of them--wiggling his fingers. 

you frown. "how'd you do that?" 

spider-man doesn't answer. instead, he looks around, probably for someone to rescue him. 

unfortunately, everyone else went to bed hours ago. 

you grin at him, suddenly and smoothly, holding your notebook out to him. "wanna see?" 

spider-man is definitely judging the mess of a journal you have, but he takes it from you anyway, if a bit hesitantly. "whoa--" he says, turning it over. and then he pauses. 

he looks back to you. 

you smile. 

"this is a penis." 

you and maturity have never gotten along. 

you make an effort to keep a blank face--snickering internally at the dry way he says it--and shake your head. "no," you say, "if you turn it over it's a smile." 

spider-man does so. 

and surely behind the mask, he's doing a slow blink, probably scowling at you. 

"do you like it?" you ask him, keeping your voice soft and sincere. 

he hands it back to you, sighing. "you should head home." 

"so, no?" 

"really," he says, almost gently. "you'll get frostbite. there's a reason no one else is out." 

you blink, leaning back. "except you?" 

spider-man swings his arms back and forth. he looks away. "except me." 

"you can't get frostbite?" you guess. 

and spider-man, despite himself, tries to smother a laugh with a cough. but you hear it clearly enough. 

you furrow your brows as you peer at him. 

and so he points a finger at you, stern. "get packing." 

"what if i live on this bench?" 

he doesn't laugh this time. he just starts to walk away, eyes still on you. "if you're not gone in five minutes i'm swinging you home." 

"you don't know where i live," you say, calling his bluff. 

but he turns around, waving nonchalantly.

you watch him, maybe surprised or irritated. 

either way, you call after him. 

and he spares you a glance. 

"maybe i'll draw you next time," you say. 

and then he's gone, and you're switching playlists. 

*

when peter runs into the bathroom he's not really thinking about germs. 

or toilet seats or washing his hands, or, obviously, checking the stalls for anyone else in there. 

the fire alarm went off two minutes ago; anyone who remains, peter thinks, is probably not going to connect any dots between him and spider-man. 

and when he unzips his backpack, digging his suit out of one of the pockets and cursing as pencils and pens fall onto the ground, he wonders why he didn't iron it this morning. 

why he even tried to do laundry yesterday, considering that he's not very good at it and may has definitely noticed. 

still, he kicks his shoes off. 

the floor isn't wet this time, peter's thinking, so thank god for that. 

he swings his jacket off of his shoulders and hurries to unbutton his pants. 

there's a gentle buzzing of a fan in the corner, only slightly drowned out by the siren that is giving peter a headache. and flashing lights. and people running by. 

and lots of chances to get caught, but not enough care in the world. 

and if peter focuses enough, he can hear some type of music playing, somewhere close. 

loud bass, quick rhythm. 

he almost pauses to think about it, and then decides against it.

he flings his pants onto the floor, folding his shirt over his head. 

it is very cold in this bathroom. 

still, peter slides his socks off, hating the tiled floors, and internally screaming when one of the socks falls under the stall, disappearing to places that peter does not have time to look in. 

and then he's squeezing into a very irritating suit. 

trying to remind himself what the greater good is and blah blah blah. . . 

but his arms are sore as he tries to zip it up, jumping to reach. 

peter is insanely grateful for doors and peace and quiet and advil, of course. 

and finally--finally--when he has the suit on, he scrambles to pick up everything he left on the floor while also putting his web-slingers on. 

a good effort, really. 

he sticks his backpack to the wall, promising himself that he's not going to forget it. 

and then he unlocks his stall, beginning to step out when he catches a glance of you. 

standing right in front of him, white earbud dangling toward the ground, proud smirk as you hold his sock up. 

peter pauses. he stares at you. 

you tap an innocent finger on your chin. "aren't you supposed to check the bathroom before you change?" 

peter's first move is to try and grab the sock from your hand. but you, swift on your feet, duck away, humming to yourself. 

"you're gonna go save a bunch of people with a sock in your hand?" you ask him.

peter thinks for a moment--not about socks, thank god--if you were standing in there when he walked in. 

if you had paused when he burst through the door, not thinking about what bathroom this was or any person who might've stuck around. if your eyes were wide and mischievous--as they are now--when he quickly ducked into a stall. 

but he knows, really, that you weren't there. 

because, peter recognizes, he wouldn't have been able to miss you. 

still, you're smirking at him. 

"better get out there, spider-man," you say, gesturing towards the door. 

and peter doesn't have the time to curse at you because you're right. 

he doesn't bother to try and grab his sock again. 

and when peter opens the door he can hear it--

your laugh. 

and a gentle throbbing of another one bites the dust coming from your headphones. 

*

you're trying not to laugh. 

really, it's an extreme effort as you store the snort deep inside your chest, trying to melt the smile off of your face. 

you are squirming in your seat as your sternum begs for some sort of relief. 

and you contemplate leaving the library before this goes too far. before you start cackling in his face, unable to hold back--even if he gives you a weird look and everyone else around you starts complaining. 

there's not much you can do to stop it, honestly, not when you've been sitting here, studying, for the last hour, music lulling you almost to sleep. and not when the boy who is now sitting in the cubicle next to you kicked his feet out, revealing some scruffed up converse. 

and of course, some mismatched socks. 

when you looked down--in a moment of weakness, dropping some type of pencil--you had to do a double take. 

not that you can judge this boy, who you've been studying for the last five minutes and his choice of attire. you lose your own socks all of the time. 

but there's a grey sock, plain and casual and not unlike your own. and then, just a couple of inches over, there's another sock. this one with a striped, colorful pattern, and words on the other side that you can't really read--for lack of view--but recognize almost immediately. 

because, coincidently, you have the same sock in your backpack, awaiting a certain visitor. 

and so, as soon as you looked up at this boy, the amusement crowded your not-so-subtle eyes. 

he's got brown hair, a frown on his face as he reads a textbook that looks much more than dreadful. his chin is jutted out, his teeth idly munching on the lip between them. a headphone in one ear.

and, of course, this boy doesn't look over. he seems almost unaware of your presence. 

and maybe that's what makes this so funny. 

being that you've experienced this a couple of times now, and it's getting really hard to not say anything about it. 

synchronicities, you know, can only go on for so long. 

and this boy--this strange, somewhat attractive boy--is blissfully ignorant. 

and you can't believe that he's wearing those socks in public.

you clear your throat, smile unstoppable now. 

but he doesn't look over. 

and you cover your mouth, shaking your head and turning yourself completely so that when he finally does decide to look over, he will know that you've been staring at him. 

he will know that there's no avoiding this interaction. 

which, for some strange reason, you're getting immense pleasure out of. 

if you listen close enough you can hear the music he's playing. 

some melancholy guitar music, completely what you would've assumed from him. 

it makes you smile even wider. 

you clear your throat again, leaning forward, legs crossed on your chair. 

you kind of want to make him jump. 

"excuse me," you say, softly. good enough to not draw any attention in this library. 

though, your smile might be enough to raise some eyebrows. 

the boy looks over, eyes wide and attentive. 

you note his face as he takes you in. 

"i was just wondering," you continue, innocently, "where you got your socks?" 

you have rendered this boy speechless. which you seem to do a lot of. 

you cough. "i mean, sock." 

he looks down, to his feet, and then to you, seeming to understand. you catch a smudge of panic in his eyes, carefully glazed over as he opens his mouth, trying to say something. 

he scratches his neck. blinking, with his mouth open, like he's trying to make sure that you're actually there. 

and, to be honest, this is exactly what you imagined of him. 

"lose all of your other pairs, too? or do you just like the look of clashing colors?" you blink at him, leaning back. 

he takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry?" 

"i mean," you shrug, turning back to your desk, "if it were me, i probably wouldn't wear those. especially when someone might have the exact same sock. but, to each their own." 

"you--" he awkwardly laughs. "i just, um, found this. in the bathroom." 

"was it in a backpack stuck to the wall?" you look back to him--his wide, scared, doe eyes--polite smile on your face. 

"actually, i bought them yesterday. they came like this." 

"interesting design choice," you respond. 

and the boy, who is still staring at you, though not quite as breathless now, ducks down, leaning closer to you. "what do you want?" he whispers, eyes glaring. 

"excuse me?" you whisper back.

"i'll--whatever it is, i'll try and get it. just don't--please don't tell anyone." 

you frown, resting your head on a hand. "tell anyone what?" 

"what you--" he looks around for anyone who might be listening. "what you know." 

you tilt your head, questioning, and amused eyes. 

"about me," he clarifies, almost hissing. 

you lean back, studying him. "we just met," you say, with a hand to your chest. 

he glares back. 

"i won't spread your questionable fashion choices around the school if that's what you mean." 

this boy still doesn't laugh. just like the first time, and the second, he seems to find you distasteful. almost annoying. 

and honestly, that might be the only thing fueling this fire in your veins. this want to mess with him until he drops. 

"seriously," he says, angry, "what do you want from me?" 

"just to know where you bought those." 

and then, as quietly and quickly as possible, you bend down to dig into your backpack, smiling in satisfaction as you find it, and then leaning back up, handing it to him. 

"i wouldn't leave those around," you whisper. "you never know who might try and copy you." 

you are almost threatening him. 

the boy glowers. "i don't know what you're talking about." 

you shrug, turning away again. 

but he grabs your arm. "what?" he demands, again and again. 

his eyes are angry, his face is hard and he's leaning away from you like you might reach out and turn him to dust. 

but you only smile, asking sweetly "what's your name?" 

he stares for a moment, blinking. "what?" 

"i think maybe we have met before," you answer. "you seem familiar." 

the boy grinds his teeth together. 

but you wait, shoving that chuckling down your chest. 

"peter," he says, the word mad and tough. 

"peter," you repeat, looking away from him. "nice to meet you. i'm y/n." 

you reach to shake his hand, and he stares at it like it's poison. 

you roll your eyes. "don't worry," you add, softly. "i haven't forgotten. i still have to draw you." 

his frown increases. 

and you laugh as you turn away, thinking about secrets. 

and listening to the music in peter's ears, still drifting over. 

*

peter is not really paying attention tonight. 

he roamed around all day--because there was nothing else to do--talking to strangers and not having to smile for pictures, just hoping for something to pop up. 

and it did, and then it didn't. 

when the problems are easy to fix, peter knows, they're less enjoyable. 

still, the distraction was nice. 

and you are not as you sit on a bench in front of him, smiling. 

you've got that look on your face--the one that makes peter want to run away. 

especially because you know who he is. 

because he's been especially reckless the past couple of weeks, and as a consequence, you have shown up. you have smiled at him, whispering gentle words and even gentler promises. 

and you've got a pencil in your hands. 

a glint in your eyes that peter's seen somewhere before. 

"fancy seeing you here," you say, amused. this is the same bench he passed by on the first night--when he was thinking about going home but didn't. 

peter curses his own stupid decisions; the difference that they could've made. 

"are you going to threaten me again?" peter asks, not really joking, though his voice gives nothing away. 

"i don't know what you're talking about." 

you're shrugging, looking away from him as your lips curl at the corners. 

and then you look back up. "you never did answer my question about the socks, though." 

peter rolls his eyes, though he doesn't miss the way he moves forward, trying to catch a glance at the surely explicit picture you're drawing. 

curiosity is a curse. 

"aren't you cold?" peter merely repeats. 

"it's not snowing. so, no." 

peter grunts. "another body part?" he nods toward the picture you're drawing, the thing you've chosen to look at instead of him. 

"a foot," you grin up at him, eyebrows raise. "though, if you wanted. . . i could get started on my picture of you." 

peter wishes you could see his frown. 

still, he takes another step towards you. "how much?" 

"hmm?" 

"how much are you charging for it?" 

peter watches you stifle a laugh, feels the pin-prick of pleasure in his chest. "only a smile," you say, head tilted. 

"no thanks, then." 

"c'mon, spider-man," you complain. "you're so much nicer to everyone else." 

"everyone else hasn't threatened me." 

you pout. "i won't tell anyone," you tell him, eyes wide, "if that's what you're worried about." 

peter doesn't answer, just stares at you. looking for any tells. 

"i mean," you continue, shrugging. "not that anyone would believe me. you've got enough frown lines to put me to shame." 

as if to prove your point, peter frowns. "what's that supposed to mean?" 

"well, i don't think anyone else has ever heard spider-man so much as grumble. so you. . ." you scrutinize him, nose wrinkled. "you couldn't be him." 

peter narrows his eyes. 

but you smile again, patting the bench next to you. "sit." 

"i can't. i'm working." 

you roll your eyes, sighing. "i'm the only one here. wouldn't you be better off watching me? just to make sure i don't do anything." 

you smile at him, and it's more vicious than kind. 

peter notes your eyes and the secretive glances you're giving him. 

you might be right. 

so he shrugs and moves to sit down next to you. 

he's been closer, anyway. 

you flip to another page, looking up at him, then down. 

and so it begins. 

you hum as you draw him, and peter taps his fingers on the bench, feeling nervous and uncomfortable, and mostly, hating that he's allowed himself to do this. 

maybe just to keep in your good graces. 

"what classes are you taking?" you ask him after a couple of minutes go by. 

"what?" 

"last week," you say, head tilting. erasing something on the paper. you've tilted it up on your knees, leaning against the arm of the bench, so peter can't see. "you were studying. that textbook looked horrible." 

peter lets his lip perk up. 

"what were you studying for?" 

"a chemistry midterm." 

you look at him, eyes just a bit tired. "you're into science?" you ask, almost doubtful. 

peter crosses his arms. 

"i mean, no offense or anything--" you smile as you say it. "--but i would've picked you for a music major. or business." 

peter understands the implication. he doesn't say anything. 

"gym major?" you ask, stealing a glance at his arms, laughing to yourself. 

"what about you?" he asks, suddenly leaning forward. "i didn't realize there were classes on how to manipulate someone." 

"that's called law," you respond, dryly. "and i'm an art major." 

peter is sure you can feel his raised brow. 

you roll your eyes, sighing as you relent. "fine. undecided. but i'm figuring it out." 

you smile again like you know something he doesn't. 

another minute passes, peter listening to the wind and your pencil as you scribble against the page. 

"how long is this going to take?" peter asks, looking up, wondering how long he's been here. 

"you can't rush art." 

"i can when it's annoying me." 

you don't look at him, but peter watches as you tense. he almost catches himself--the words he's just spoken and accidentally let out--and decides not to say anything. 

maybe you'll forget about it. 

"so," you drawl, after thirty seconds of awkward silence. "you're a chemist." 

"engineer." 

you scoff. "sorry, but that means the same thing to me." 

peter snorts back. 

"how old are you?" you ask him, brow furrowed as you concentrate. 

"i'm not telling you." 

you raise a brow, but don't look at him. "why not?" 

"you'll just add it to the file." 

you don't say anything. 

"the file of things you know about me." 

there's a quirk on your face, the clearing of your throat. "i was serious," you tell him, again. "i'm not going to tell anyone. i respect your privacy." 

peter gives you a dubious look. 

"i respect your anonymity," you revise, giving him a grin. "and if you keep moving your face i'm going to mess up your portrait." 

"are you actually an artist?" peter asks, "or is this a ploy to get unsuspecting strangers to stop?" 

"guess," you say. 

"i'm going with the latter." 

you shrug, not looking at him. "i've been told worse. but i think you're really going to like this."

peter doubts that, but he doesn't say anything. 

and another tens minutes pass--in which you scrutinize everything about the suit he designed, snorting when he argues back--and then you're tearing out a page, smiling at him.

"i mean it," you tell him, "next time i see you i want a smile." 

"i could be smiling right now." 

you stare at him. 

"just give it to me." 

you laugh, putting your notebook in the bag next to you. "just don't look until i'm gone, okay?" 

"you don't want to watch my reaction?" 

"i don't think i need to." 

and peter watches as you put everything else away--pencils and erasers and stick of charcoal. he pauses when he finally notices the headphones you tuck into your bag. 

"you were listening to something before i got here?" 

you just nod, zipping up your bag. 

"what?" 

you look up at him, eyes daring. "guess," you say. 

"kanye?" 

you scoff. "please." 

"miley cyrus?" 

you tilt your head, "i would be more likely to listen to the hannah montana soundtrack." 

"metallica?" 

you nod, lips pursing. "you got it, spider-man. i'm a metal kinda girl." 

peter could've told you that. 

but you're smirking before he can respond, pulling the pencil back out, flipping over the paper, and concealing it with your hand so that he can't see. 

"there," you say, after forty-five seconds of scribbling. "now it's finished." 

you put the pencil away, standing up. 

"i'll see you soon," you say to him, nodding. "and that smile." 

peter snorts. 

and then you're walking away, waving an idle hand goodbye as you turn the corner. peter watches until you're gone, making sure that you're not going to pop back out when he least suspects it, and then he slides over on the bench, finally grabbing the paper. 

he flips it over to find a black-and-white picture of himself, every slope and curve of his suit that he recognizes in the mirror. 

and he knows, for sure, that you lied to him. or he lied to you. 

it wasn't the latter. 

still, somewhat amazed, smiling under his mask, his eyes drift down to the words you've written at the corner of the page. 

you are a call to motion, it says. there, all of you, a verb in perfect view. 

and then another foul "smiley face." peter almost laughs. 

when you move, you've written, i move. 

and your number at the very bottom, scribbled a bit recklessly. 

peter memorizes the numbers before he swings home.  

*

you get the first text three days later. 

your phone vibrates in your pocket as you're waiting in line at a coffee shop, watching the people around you move with creases in their brows. 

your fingers itch for the notebook in your bag. 

and when you read the screen, you're a bit confused. 

a text from an unknown number, and all it says is: 

you lied. 

you frown, thinking of who you might've irritated in the past couple of days. 

it only takes a couple of seconds to recall the boy who you've messed with the most. 

peter and the scowls he's given you. 

you smile, knowing what he means. 

and then you send him the spotify link to enter sandman. 

*

peter rolls his eyes when he gets the message. still, he clicks on the link, plugging his headphones into the jack. 

he walks while he listens, wincing at the words. 

and when it's finished--when peter officially decides that he's finished with you--he sends back another link. 

one to the song you wrote out for him, the song you happened to lie about. 

are you flirting with me? he asks, trying not to let himself regret it. 

or smile as he sees the little bubble at the bottom of the screen, letting him know that you're still there. 

you send an emoji of a spider back and peter's smile fades. 

*

you're laughing as you type, you still owe me a smile. 

you move up in the line, trying not to stumble over the shoes of the person in front of you, scowling when peter sends you a scowl back. 

not literally, of course. but it's been two minutes since he read the text, and he has not answered. 

which, you think, is very rude. 

is that a no? you type out. 

peter merely says: you owe me a song.

so you send him knee socks, by arctic monkeys. 

and you forget what to order when you get up to the counter.

*

peter begins to look for you before he walks around any corner. 

he's avoided that bench, thinking that if he gets too close, too soon, you will get bored. 

that you might've already after you sent him that song and he had nothing good to send you back. 

he's been thinking about it for the past couple of days. 

while he studies, and showers, goes to class, and swings from building to building, staring down at tiny people and thinking that one of them might be you. 

but you haven't shown up. peter thinks maybe you've been hiding out too. 

maybe worried because he hasn't texted back. 

but then he corrects himself; he can't imagine you worried about anything. 

still, he peeks around the corner before he moves, waiting for your cheeky smile and irritating laughter. 

instead, he finds a crowd of people that he doesn't know, and who don't know him. 

not that you do either. 

peter is listening to music as he walks. trying to pretend that there is no correlation between you and this song. 

he moves around the people, keeping his eyes low. he says hello to anyone who says anything to him. he smiles at strangers and reminds himself how to be polite. 

he thinks about how mean he's been to you, and wonders if it just comes naturally. 

and when he gets home, kissing may on the cheek and walking up to his room, happy to finally put down his backpack and all of the books in it, he's still thinking about you. 

thinking about the picture he's put on his wall, and your simple handwriting underneath it. neat and smooth, nothing like he'd expected it to be. 

he's thinking about you as he gets undressed, sliding on his suit and staring at the socks he's left on the floor. 

when you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked. . . 

peter shakes his head, kicking them under his bed. 

but, right before he leaves, he grabs his phone from his bed, angrily clicking on a playlist. 

and then he sends you another link, about a week later. 

and he doesn't have it in him to question it. 

*

you awake from your nap to a text. 

the name at the top of your screen just says "itsy bitsy," because you were a little bit delirious and thought it was hilarious when you put him in your contacts a week and two days ago. 

you almost smile at the notification, and then catch yourself. 

spider-man, peter, has sent you a link to love grows (where my rosemary goes). 

you click on it, smirking as you do so. 

and then two minutes and fifty-four seconds later, you finally text him again. 

are you busy tomorrow?

*

"you're my muse now," you say to him, pointing to a stool. 

you sent peter the directions to an art studio, about three minutes off campus, and told him to come at noon. 

it is 12:23 and you haven't stopped smiling at peter since he walked in. 

"any song suggestions?" you ask him, wide eyes and tilted head and that devious smile that runs goosebumps up his arms. 

peter clears his throat. 

"no," he says. "pick whatever," 

you asked him to pose for you. told him that he owed you at least that, if not some laughter. 

and peter disagreed, but didn't argue. 

and now he's not quite sure why. 

you put on some soft guitar music, going to a shelf in the corner of the room to grab something. 

"how's my bench?" you ask him as you move back over to him and sit on the ground. 

peter frowns. "i don't know." 

you pull out a notebook, scoffing. "you're telling me that you haven't checked it once in the past week?" 

"nope." 

"aren't you supposed to be like the protector of new york city, or whatever?" you blow some hair out of your eyes as you say it. 

"that typically applies to people." 

"except me," you grumble, under your breath. 

peter's lip twitches. 

"what are you doing, again?" he asks. 

"well, i figured since i drew spider-man, the least i can do is also draw peter." 

"you said i was a terrible statue." 

"you are," you laugh at him, "but you've got a nice face." 

peter pretends not to feel it as he flushes. 

"i won't show anyone," you tell him, "if you don't want me to. but it would be nice for my still art class." 

"so you are an artist," peter says, attempting to evade your subtle question. 

"only in my dreams. i'm also taking algebra, economics, and philosophy 101." 

peter frowns. 

"i'll declare next year," you tell him, frowning as you erase something. 

"as an art major?" 

you grin at him, but the peter that's on the paper. "wouldn't you like to know?" 

peter doesn't answer that. 

he watches you as you draw him, peeking an eye on the side of his face every couple of moments, and smiling when you catch him staring at you. 

"what's your last name?" you ask him, breaking the silence. 

another song plays, and peter still doesn't recognize it. 

"parker." 

you snort. "figures." 

his brows furrow. "what does that mean?" 

"of course, you would have a superhero-ey name." 

"what's yours?" 

"y/l/n." 

peter laughs. 

you frown. "what?" 

"of course, you would have an annoying-sounding name." 

you glare at him, but peter doesn't miss the twitch of your lip. "don't copy me, parker." 

"don't make it so easy." 

and you don't say anything back, instead choosing to focus down at the paper, but peter notices the little chuckle that falls from your mouth. the silent sneer in your eyes. 

"what?" he asks after it doesn't go away. 

"i think that was the first time you've actually teased me." 

you don't say the rest of it. and peter doesn't acknowledge how comfortable he feels, sitting on this stool as you stare up at him, watching you as you look back. 

"you can use it," he says, suddenly. 

"what?" 

"the picture. for your class."

you don't say anything, but nod in acknowledgment. 

and peter feels like an idiot as the silence drifts. feels like he shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have agreed to this.

and the song changes again, a soft, melodic sound. 

peter almost smiles. 

"is this opera?" he asks, heavily judging you. 

you grin, dropping your notebook on the ground and standing up. you take a step closer to him, leaning in. 

"shut your mouth and see," you whisper to him. 

peter is almost offended, brows furrowed as he stares at you and how close you are. 

but then someone else echoes the words back, and you begin to dance, holding a hand out to invite him to join. 

peter does, memorizing the slow movement of your hips as he stands up, feeling like his limbs are heavier than they were only four minutes ago. 

and the two of you dance to only angel like no one's watching. 

peter listens to you sing the words under your breath. 

i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine.

*

you are humming to yourself when you get the phone call. 

when your hand stumbles, pencil creating a harsh line over the drawing you've spent the last twenty minutes hating. you scowl at your hand, and then your phone, for interrupting. 

until you see peter's face on the screen. 

the picture you took of the picture you drew of him, scowling at you like he seems to do a lot of. 

you don't smile, but bite your lip as you press the little green button. 

"hello?" 

"hey," peter says, voice soft. he clears his throat. "what're you up to?" his voice is suddenly louder like he's using a microphone. 

you smile, glad that he can't see it. 

"just laughing at this picture of you." 

"from last week?" 

"yup." 

"really?" 

you roll your eyes, hoping he can feel it. "no," you drawl. "i was just working on something new. what's up?" 

"do you like movies?" 

*

after that, peter doesn't have to avoid you. 

he doesn't look for you around any corners, because you've already leaned forward, already allowed him to see your smile and guess what you might be thinking about. 

"hey," you say to him as you match his stride. "how was class?" 

"boring," peter answers, accepting the earbud you hold out to him. 

"of course, it was," you grin at him, "i wasn't there." 

and peter just barely laughs, feeling a bit light when you smile back, face full of some sort of victory. 

you play a song about being cold, and peter completely understands.

*

"i can't believe you got me to agree to this," you say to him as you open the door. 

you're wearing a dress. pretty and flowing and completely surprising peter, if his face says anything. 

"wow," he says, coughing. then clearing his throat. then coughing again. "it's--you look nice." 

you scowl. "i look terrible." 

peter just chuckles, looking down again, then at your eyes like he's forgotten something. 

you just glare at him, waiting for him to tell you that you don't have to come. 

but peter holds his hand out to you. "ready?" he asks. 

"no. because i'm not going." you try and close the door in his face. 

peter pushes it back, just smiling softly at you. 

finally, you understand why he's been so irritated and cruel to you. if your smile is anything like his, then his reaction is completely rational. 

"it'll be fine," peter coos, reaching a hand out to comfortingly--and condescendingly--rub your shoulder. 

"it's a banquet," you say, just barely getting the words out. "for science." 

"it's a party for engineering majors. i invited you a week ago and you didn't say anything--" 

"all of your teachers will be there," you correct him, staring daggers. "if there are adults there, then it's not a party. and you made it sound fun." 

"we're adults." 

"i'm an adult, peter. you are a child. you are childish for tricking me into this." 

"tricking you?" peter laughs, eyes gleaming. "i don't remember that part of the conversation." 

you, suddenly, smile sweetly at him. "i don't know if you've heard," you whisper, smoothly, "but this is going to be terrible." 

he grabs your hand, rolling his eyes. "it'll be boring, maybe, but not terrible. i'll stay with you the whole time." 

you frown. then say again, in the same, all-knowing tone, "i don't know if you knew this about me, peter parker, but i'm terrible at boring. or being serious. or talking to people." 

"you talk to me just fine--" 

"as soon as anyone says anything i'll start laughing. it's a nervous reaction, i can't control it." 

"i'll put a hand over your mouth." 

"that's a violation of my boundaries." 

peter snorts, "look, not that i'm not enjoying this--" 

you pinch his arm, shaking your hand out of his. 

"--but we're going to be late. we can talk about your chortling on the way there--" 

"chortling?!" 

"witch cackle, guffaw, whatever," peter corrects. 

"you are not making me want to go with you." 

"c'mon," peter whines, catching your hand again. "you're my plus one. everyone will think i'm a loser if i show up without you." 

"they already think that," you hiss at him, moving back again. "and anyway, i can't walk in these." 

you gesture down to the heels you dug out of your closet. 

it took you two hours to get ready, simply because you were stressed out enough to absolutely ruin every outfit you put on. 

"i'll die, peter," you say, staring at him desperately. "die." 

he raises a brow. "you can put on different shoes." 

"you're a man." you wave a hand, scoffing at him. "what do you know about fashion?" 

peter shakes his head. "okay, if your feet get sore, i'll carry you." 

you stare at him blankly. "i highly doubt that, noodle arms." 

the smile that appears on your face is one of satisfaction. 

but peter rolls his eyes and doesn't bother to correct you. 

"look," he says, pulling his phone out. "i brought my phone so we can listen to music. i'll let you pick." 

you look away from his eyes to the strand between his fingers. then back to him. "you promise?" 

"sure," peter says, almost snorting. "and anyway, i heard that there might be karaoke and you know that--" 

as soon as he says the words, you're turning around, grabbing your purse from the table by your door, and locking it. you shut it, reaching for peter's hand. 

"alright," you smile, easily. "let's go." 

peter laughs as you begin to drag him along. 

you sing along to sexy silk while you walk with him, just to keep the smile on his face. 

*

"hey," you say to him as you pick up the camera on his desk. "you didn't tell me about this." 

peter looks over, noting your frown and the furrow between your brows. he's sitting on your bed while you canvas his room, making fun of everything he's got in there. 

not to mention the way you almost died of laughter when you saw your drawing on his wall, telling him that he's a dirty little liar, then smiling a secretive smile at it. 

not that peter noticed.

still, he sits up, watching as you click on some button. 

"there are lots of things i don't tell you about," he says, smoothly, and smiles at you. 

your scowl grows. "you've got a camera?" you ask. 

and then, after peter doesn't bother answering that and another moment passes, your jaw drops. 

"you've taken pictures of me?" you demand, pointing to a moment he got a week ago, minutes before he met you for lunch. 

"that's not you," peter lies, and goes to take it from your hands.

but you pull away. 

"when did you do this?" 

peter hesitates for a moment, but he sees the look on your face. "last week." 

"why didn't i notice?" 

peter smiles. "because you are particularly unobservant." 

you glare. 

". . . and because i was about twenty feet away, and ten minutes early." 

"peter," you complain and whine. "why wouldn't you tell me about this?" 

"didn't want to steal your thing." 

"i don't have a camera." 

he shakes his head. "no, art, or something." 

"you're lying," you say, peering at him. "that's your lying face." 

he holds a hand to his chest, mock offended. 

but you don't say anything as you put the camera back on his desk, frowning at the window and avoiding his eyes. 

peter watches for a moment, at the pout on your face and how soft and smooth your skin looks. 

he thinks about you dancing and almost forgets that you're mad at him. 

"hey," he whispers to you, hand reaching out. "i'm sorry i didn't tell you. i didn't realize that you'd want to know." 

"of course, i want to know," you mumble. peter thinks you might be saying something else.

"well, now you do." 

"i also know about your ninja turtle underwear," you say, with a hint of a smile on your face. 

"yeah," peter says, standing up. "and you can hold it against me forever. i won't even complain." 

you look over at him, raising your brows. "really?" 

"mhmm." 

and then you purse your lips, pretending to consider it. "okay, i guess," you say, as a means to forgive him. 

and peter is glad about that. glad when you walk over to him, pushing his shoulder. 

"but don't do that again," you tell him, almost as a threat. 

"do what?" 

"keep a secret from me." 

peter almost winces, but decides to smile instead. "you already know all of them," he says, simply. 

and you smile back. 

he doesn't quite let himself believe that it's a lie. doesn't think about you being mad, or what you might do if you found out. 

he just sighs, reaching over you to pick up the camera. 

"do you want to see more pictures?" he asks you. 

and then delights in the eager way you nod back. 

*

you are humming along to the song playing from peter's phone as you doodle on the piece of paper in front of you. 

you don't know the name, but peter's played it often enough that you know the words. 

and, coincidentally, he's laying his head in your lap--claiming a headache--as you play with his hair. 

he is almost distracting you as you attempt to draw a pretty little spider on his bedside table. 

peter hums back, but it's not to the song. 

"what?" you ask him, pausing your hand. 

peter reaches up, moving it for you, and you snort. 

"okay, okay," you say to him, and scratch his scalp some more. 

"are you ruining my table?" 

"no more than you already have." 

peter groans, but doesn't bother to look up. you know that he knows that you're not drawing anything on it. 

you smile down at him, then get back to the tiny sticky note you found in his drawer. 

the pen you stole from the dining table downstairs. 

you sing to him, to yourself, and minutes pass, and the song changes. 

but you picked this one, and peter doesn't complain. 

"do you feel any better?" you whisper to him, refraining from calling him a big baby. 

"no. keep going," peter grunts. 

you scoff but listen. 

"look," you tell him, holding the drawing in front of his face. "do you like it?" 

"pretty," peter mumbles. 

but he doesn't even open his eyes. 

so you flick him in the nose, raising a brow. "you didn't even look, you idiot." 

"don't be mean to me," peter whines, "i'm in pain." 

"you refuse to take any medicine."

"you're close enough," he whispers, and you try not to feel anything at the words. 

"just one eye," you say to him, pulling at his skin. 

and peter relents, staring at the picture you've drawn for him. "are you trying to be funny?" 

it's a spider, sure, but a very hilarious interpretation of it swinging and falling off a building, and then, a couple of feet away, a picture of it being smooshed. 

you grin. "i think you should put it on your next suit." 

"i'll think about it," peter says, and closes his eyes again. 

you laugh at him and hope he can feel it. 

sing along to the song until peter falls asleep. 

i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave. 

*

when peter wakes up, he's alone. 

he wonders when you disappeared and where you went. he aches for the feeling of your hands in his hair and your smile and laughter as he wakes up. 

it's dark outside though, so peter's glad that you're at home, at least, hopefully sleeping. 

he looks at the clock, frowning at the numbers. 

he sits up, head buzzing and blinking until he can see. 

and then he walks over to the bathroom, figuring that he should probably brush his teeth. 

and when he goes back to his bed, back aching and thinking about you, he notices the sticky note you've put on his wall, right next to the picture you drew of him. 

he smiles at it, glad you put it there, where he probably would've put it anyway. 

and there's another one, right next to your bed. 

you're lame and you fell asleep, it says, don't worry, you didn't drool. 

peter smiles, appreciating your handwriting. he puts it on his wall, right next to the other one. 

and then he texts you. 

when did you leave? 

you answer almost immediately: about an hour ago. 

it's one in the morning, and peter frowns. 

did you walk home alone? 

yup! 

he scowls, immediately dialing you. 

"hello?" you say, singing it. 

peter wonders how you have so much energy, but doesn't give himself the time to dwell on it. 

"you walked home alone?" he asks again. 

"yes, peter." 

"in the dark?" 

you hum. 

he's scowling, wishing you were there so you could see how serious he is. "don't do that," he says. 

"peter," you sigh, snorting a bit. 

"you shouldn't be walking home by yourself." 

"might i remind you that you fell asleep? who else was i going to ask at midnight? may?" 

"you could've woken me up." 

peter hears you laugh. 

"aw," you say, "but, baby, you just looked so peaceful." 

peter almost flinches at the words, because you're not being serious and still-- 

"promise me that you will, next time." 

you laugh again. "okay, peter. i'll uber home next time." 

"you'll wake me up." 

"please," you tell him, "i don't have a death wish." 

*

you are frowning as he sits in front of you, but trying not to. 

you're trying to keep a calm face and a smooth mind and repair peter without him figuring out a single thing about you. 

without getting into another fight with him. 

but he knows you, much better than you'd like. 

"what?" he whispers to you, the words soft on your cheek. 

he's got bruises sprinkled over his abdomen. a bright red cut on his cheek. a black eye and fingers that look more like pens than limbs. 

still, you're trying not to be too rough with him. 

trying to clean these wounds without opening up any others. 

"nothing." 

"you're frowning." 

"you've got a big cut on your face." 

he grabs your hand, stopping your movement as you dab at it. "you're frowning," he repeats, a bit louder. 

you sigh and look away. "peter. . ." 

"you're mad at me?" he asks, tilting your head back to him. 

you're three inches away from him, staring. 

and you don't even need to answer, because it takes one look from you, and peter nods. 

"okay," he says, turning his cheek so you can clean the cut again. 

you do. 

and you listen to his breathing, hearing your own heart pound in your ear, staying silent. 

there's not much you can say to him without wanting to scream. 

"are you going to tell me why?" he asks you, minutes later, when you've had to replace the water so it's not so cold. 

you hum. rub some ointment on the wound, apologizing when peter winces. 

"y/n," he says, tilting his head. he's smiling at you like it might get you to break. 

"you're not taking this seriously," you complain, closing your eyes. you move back, just for peter to move forward. 

"hey," he says, grabbing your hand again. his eyes meet yours. "i'm okay." 

"you're hurt," you argue, frowning, concern piercing your brows. "you had to come here so i could patch you up." 

peter swallows. "i wanted to see you." 

"no," you shake your head at him. "you can barely move that arm. you limped in here." 

"it'll be fine by tomorrow." 

you scoff. "but it's not fine now peter!" you whisper the words, but with enough force that he moves back, his eyes wide and his brow furrowing, as if he's just realized how serious you are. 

"you're really mad?" 

you shake your head, looking away from him. "i'm scared for you, and i'm mad because you don't even care. every time," you say, "you just brush it off. tell me that it'll be fine." 

"because i will," peter swears, trying to catch your eyes. 

"but what if you're not?" you ask him, just whispering the words, your voice breaking. "what if you come here," you look back to him, tears evident. "and i can't do anything to help you?" 

peter starts to say something, tries to brush the liquid away, but you flinch back. 

"no. what if someone else has to move the mask? what if they see you, but you're already--" you stop, not wanting to say the words. 

and before you can blink or breathe, peter has wrapped an arm around you, crushing you to his skin. 

he apologizes and holds you close, breathing slowly as you try to catch your breath. 

he whispers in your ear, rubbing your back. 

"i'm sorry," he says, "i didn't realize." 

and you know that. and you know that this argument isn't quite fair. 

"i promise i'll be careful. i promise, okay?" 

you nod against his neck, breathing him in. 

and a moment passes, and you try to memorize the feeling of being this close to him. 

and then you whisper, "you're my best friend, peter. i don't know what i would do without you." 

and it's only partly a lie. 

"i know," peter says, moving back so that he can look you in the eye. "i know." 

you try and smile at him, and he tries and smiles back. 

"okay," you whisper. 

and then you notice the small wince on peter's face. 

you frown. "what?" 

peter looks down to where your stomach has brushed against the cuts on his and clears his throat. "ouch," he says. 

you meet his eyes and laugh.

*

peter knocks on your door, waiting.

he hasn't seen you in a couple of days, and you haven't been answering the phone. 

he hears someone move around. hears a lurking at the door. 

"y/n?" he calls. "i can hear you." 

but you don't answer. 

so peter knocks again, checking his phone for any sign of you, and staring at the door. 

all he gets is a quick "read" message, and then silence. 

he sighs. 

"c'mon," he calls again. "just open the door, or text me, and i'll leave." 

but you do neither. 

peter scowls. "i'm not gonna go," he tells you. "i'll be out here until you are, and when i freeze to death you're going to feel really bad." 

he might hear a scoff, but the only thing that follows is some silence. 

he says your name again, leaning against the door. 

and then he scrolls on your phone, sending you another text. 

he hears your phone ring on the other side of the door. 

and he can hear you sighing because he's just sent you a link to door. 

there's a moment that passes, where peter is just a bit proud, and then you open the door. 

"that's not even what that song means," you tell him, glowering, but you let him in. 

peter just smiles at you.

*

you're drawing him again. laughing as he teases you and listening to a playlist that he's made for the two of you--promising that it was great and that you'd enjoy it very much. 

this time, though, it's a bit different. 

you haven't asked to draw him since that day when he met you in the studio and finally looked comfortable enough to sit still. you haven't wanted to push that line, again, because you knew that it would be different. 

and that last picture of him, well. . . 

it's not the same as now. not the same as peter is when he's smiling at you. 

when he's singing along to a song that he's chosen and rolling his eyes when you say something, or make fun of him. 

it's not the same, you know, because last time, it was merely some strange sort of attraction to him. some want, or need, or crazy, fantasy thing. 

but now. god. 

now you know peter. now you know what he looks like when he's upset, how he acts when he's scared, or what he cares about, or who he truly is, behind the mask. 

now you're in love with him and trying to hide it. 

unsuccessfully, you're sure. 

"how much longer?" peter asks you, spinning around in your chair as you sit on your bed. 

it's also different because he's in your room, messing with your things. 

"i've already told you, peter, that you can't rush art." 

"you're probably not even drawing me." 

you grin down at the paper. 

peter continues to sing, continues to flip through an old notebook of drawings. 

"you know," you tell him, just glancing up to meet his brown eyes. "i don't like this song very much." 

peter raises a brow. "really?" 

you nod, pursing your lips. 

and so he sings even louder. 

"a zero, zero," peter says to you, laughing. "now he's a--" 

you throw a pillow at him, smirking. 

peter frowns. "that's going to ruin the drawing." 

"so is your singing," you tell him. "stay still, peter." 

"can i at least see?" he asks. 

"not till i'm done."

and then the song changes, and suddenly, you're grinning at him. 

just like that first day.

*

as soon as peter hears the opening chords, he's cursing himself for putting this song on the playlist. 

for letting himself be manipulated at the thought of your smile, and funny laugh as you danced around to this one the first time. for allowing himself to give in to it. 

because your smile is nothing but evil. 

and suddenly, you're not drawing, but standing up, biting your lip. 

"hey, good lookin'," you croon. moving your hips and your shoulders and smiling at him because you just know. "whatcha got cookin'?" 

peter throws his head back and groans. 

but you're singing along, dancing around him, and whispering the words in his ear. 

"there's soda pop and the dancing's free," you whisper, the goosebumps much more than a physical reaction. 

and, really, peter's trying not to smile as he watches you dance. as he watches your smile ebb and flow and listens to your voice, to your accent as-- 

"--so we can go steady," you gesture at him, smiling sweetly. "how's about saving all your time for me?" 

you are a monster, an absolute devil as you pull peter up, as he goes so willingly, and begins to dance with you. 

his hands around your waist and yours wrapped around his neck and that goddamn smile. 

and your voice, and every single thing that you mean to him. 

"c'mon," you say to him, giggling. "dance." 

and he does. he can't stop. 

then, when the song begins to fade, and you whisper a last "how's about cooking something up with me?" he pulls you down to your bed. 

he's almost breathless and laughing at you as you try to squirm away. 

he's absolutely gone as you still against him, suddenly realizing where you are. 

that he's pulled you so that you're laying right against him. and, peter is three inches away from you, and he can feel your breath against him. 

he can see your smile as it almost fades. 

as you watch his eyes, but falter, and look down. 

down and down and peter's eyes follow. 

he's staring at your lips, and he almost doesn't notice it as he leans in, as your breath hitches. 

and he kisses you. 

finally. finally. 

he pulls you as close as he can get you, hand wrapped around your neck, and at the base of your head, and digging into you, and your hands are on his face, they are still and alive as you grip onto him just as tight as he's got you. 

as you pull him, push and pull his lips, and breathe into his mouth. 

as he finally feels all of you, and thanks god that you're there. 

and when he pulls back, almost disassociating, eyes wide, he's staring at you. 

he's listening to a song in the background but he doesn't know the words. 

he can't think at all, can't breathe with you right there. 

"i'm sorry," he whispers, as he suddenly remembers who you are and what you mean to him. 

but you--you smile at him. you laugh like you can't believe it. 

you look into peter's eyes and you see all of him. 

you shake your head, one hand drifting to your lips like you can feel something new. 

you laugh again. 

"peter," you whisper to him, and he's staring back. "do it again." 

if you were a waiting room, i would never see the doctor. 

*

more of them.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch​ @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff​ @hollandweather​ @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan​ @valvlry​ @imthatcoolmom​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[multifariousqueer]

Miles G and Miles Morales Headcannons: Twin Edition

For reference: miles g will be called Milo

A/n: AHHHH ITS GOOD TO BE BACK BABES!!! Ik new fics And pt.2’s are Coming soon, works been a killer and I’ve been going through stuff but it’s good to be back writing for my boys. Requests are closed but opening up soon 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Warnings: none

Miles Morales:

Is like 4 inches taller but makes it feel like 4 feet

Nicer and a bit more approachable

Loves being in pictures and making funny faces

Dog person

Can’t cook for shit but tries so hard for his mom

They have their own little dates and things

His side of the room is a mess

I feel like he played an instrument in the past when he was a kid

Maybe Piano or guitar

He’s a loner by default but he would have more friends if he wasn’t so busy being Spider-Man

He def takes pictures of sunsets from the tips of buildings

Used to color code outfits with Milo but stopped when they were 12

Same with baths but they were 7 for that

His side of the room is disgusting. Like shit is crawling

There’s a single chair with all of his stuff on it

He brings Ganke over sometimes but Ganke took a stronger liking to Milo bc he’s chill

“Yeah man idk if i can come. Is Milo gonna be there?”

Milo doesn’t give a shit but secretly loves Gankes company

They chill and play video games

Miles is also better at video games than Milo

Whenever he gets stuck on a level, he hands the controller to him

He’s more affectionate than Milo

Will draw you and touch you more

Very smart but he has his moments

Definitely more book smart then Street smart

Doesn’t know basic things and code within the streets so sometimes Milo has to help him

Overall, he’s a sunflower child and we love him 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Milo Morales

Was def born First but is shorter than Miles and Miles makes fun of him for it

Plays basketball with Uncle Aaron sometimes and he’s pretty good at it

Played the violin or cello at some point in his life

“Don’t forget im older than you” “im sorry is someone speaking?”

Is more violent than Miles but it’s because he’s the Prowler

Takes more time for him to warm up to you but once he does, he’s stuck on you for life

Will spoil you with Gifts

Speaking of… him and Miles get into it regularly over it, when they fight physically they sometimes slip and use their real names

He’s a mamas boy FR. This man loves his mama

Will make fun of Miles for being a no sabes kid

Sometimes, him and Rio will speak in Spanish in front of Miles and he’ll just stare at them hoping to recognize a word

“Hey you said cabròn, i heard that!”

He’s more of a cat person then Miles

Yells at Miles for creasing his Jordan’s

“Nah homie, you gotta apologize to the J’s they didn’t deserve that”

Is a loner by choice whereas Miles is a loner by default

This man hasn’t smiled in YEARSSS

He hangs out with Uncle Aaron more than his dad

He seems like his side of the room would be cleaner than Miles

“Milo! Have you seen my- Oh Nevermind! I found it” “yeah”

Has an rbf but once you get to know him, hes kinda nice

Takes the pictures in the family

Learned to cook from his mom and regularly cooks with her while speaking Spanish

It’s so freaking cute oml. Like if there’s music playing, he will spin her to the music and everything and they will laugh

He’s not a snowbunny lol. He’s down with the brown

He seems like he wears 100 million cologne

Smells better and is more put together than Miles

Overall, he’s more razor sharp

More nonchalant

Definitely is a tad bit jealous that Miles is apart of a spider society

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 1 - 2.6K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1 (you are here!)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

______________

You sat at your desktop and sighed. The clock in the corner of the screen read 2:38 AM. You could feel your eyes throb, the blue light from the screen was going to cause them to be bloodshot tomorrow you just knew it. You should probably call it a day but the Gauntlet of Shar was kicking your ass and you felt beyond dejected. Saving your progress you quit the game. You stare at the screen which had the Baldur’s Gate III loading screen, the green “play” button tempting you despite just logging off. Shutting down the computer you went through your night routine. Shower, brush teeth, pet the cat. You slid into your bed and sighed. Life felt so mundane, you wished you could adventure. Maybe that’s why the game was so appealing to you. You were already thinking about playing tomorrow after a grueling day of work. You set your alarm and slowly let yourself relax before going limp into a deep sleep.

____________

You could feel the migraine in your head before you even opened your eyes. You groaned before you realized you could also smell grass and feel a slight breeze on your brow. Suddenly a swift kick was planted into your side. Your eyes squeezed shut as you curled into yourself, holding your right side and coughing. 

“What the fuck!” You yelled. 

Coughing some more before you felt cold metal against your throat. You finally opened your eyes to see six people standing around you. People is a lose term as some had horns, tails, scales, etc. 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t slit your throat where you lay istik.” Said the green woman in dazzling armor.

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it stopped. This was a dream. A fucked up dream. You really gotta lay off the Baldur’s Gate III because this is ridiculous.

You knew everyone looking at you but they did not know you. The blade pressed further into your throat and you let out a whimper. You did the only thing you could think of. You slowly put your hands up next to you head, palms open to show you meant no harm. Lae’zel let up ever so slightly but kept her eyes fixed on you. 

“She asked you a question.” Said Karlach as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at you with curiosity but also caution.

“Y/n…. My name is y/n.” You squeaked out, feeling the blade start to dig into your neck.

“And how is it that you managed to stumble upon our camp?” Asked Astarion with an unimpressed tone. 

“I - I didn’t… I wasn’t looking for you I swear…. I just woke up here and I don't remember anything else.” Is sputtered out quickly, praying they believed you. 

You felt a sharp sting and a… wriggle? Behind your eye, Shadowheart forced herself into your mind. Just as quickly as she had entered, the pain stopped. 

“She’s telling the truth.” She said.

“Are you friend or foe? Speak now so I may offer you a clean death istik.” Lae’zel spat.

“Friend! Definitely a friend! I don’t want any trouble I promise!” Your voice shook and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes as you felt the blade draw blood.

Karlach gave a “tsk” before pushing past Astarion and Wyll. She stretched out a hand to you. You glanced at her, then back to Lae’zel. 

Karlach looked to Lae’zel before speaking, “They look like a scared puppy you can’t possibly think they’re a threat Lae’zel.” 

Lae’zel let out a huff before withdrawing her sword, your hand immediately flying to your throat only for it to be coated in blood. You looked at Karlach and quickly took her hand, scrambling to stand up before hunching over when you felt the shooting pain in your side.

“Ahhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” you whispered to yourself. 

“Any sign of aggression and I will not hesitate to smite you.” Lae’zel said before walking back to her tent.

You finally straightened out. Looking at Karlach you spoke, “Thank you.” You gave her a smile, or what you could manage as a smile in the moment.

She looked you over before smiling brightly at you, “No worries soldier! I’m Karlach, pleasure to meet you.” She said while vigorously shaking your hand.

“Y/n.” You said softly while looking around. “I’m sorry, do any of you have a mirror?” 

“Not even with us for more than five minutes and you’re already preening for a mirror. Petty vanity will get the best of you darling. Besides, not much to admire if you ask me.” Astarion said with a sassy yet disinterested tone.

You scoffed. Karlach pulled out her sword, you went to take a step back, ready to book it, before she held it horizontally in her hands. She looked at you before glancing at the sword. You stepped closer. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…” you said, feeling your face and hair. The reflection looking back at you was your Tav from Baldur’s Gate III. You pinched and pulled at yourself not believing what you were seeing. 

“Something wrong?” Asked Shadowheart whom you made eye contact with in the reflection.

“I - I ummm… I’m um….. I’m not myself…” was all you could manage. Karlach sheathed her sword and you turned to finally face everyone. “Come find me when you want your bedroll y/n, I should have an extra one somewhere…” Karlach said before walking to the bonfire. 

Shadowheart looked you up and down before shrugging “Lady Shar’s blessings upon you stranger. Please join us, you must be in want of a meal.” she gave a soft smile before going back to her tent. 

Gale and Wyll introduced themselves. Gale healing the cut on your throat after mumbling a quick apology about Lae’zel stating she was the definition of overprotective and outrageously homicidal. Everyone had seemingly returned to their tents or the bonfire in the middle of camp. 

You sat back down in the clearing you woke up in. This was not real. No damn way. Maybe you’ve had a severe psychotic break. Maybe you have a brain eating parasite (literally). Maybe you ate a cordycep and this was the end for you. Literally anything else would make more sense than “Oh my ass got Jumanji'd”. You stared off into space, trying to keep your shaky breathing consistent. You felt the air chill around you as the sun fell behind the horizon and Shar’s embrace consumed the night. 

“You know it’s rude to stare.” said Astarion without looking up from you from his tent, the closest to your clearing and the direction you just so happened to be honing in on. 

You slowly shifted your eyes down, resting your head against your forearms as they rested on your knees. You just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. “Sorry.” was all you could whisper. 

“Ugh gods, Karlach was right, you look like a scared puppy. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long if you’re so…. fragile.” he continued his tone laced with a tinge of venom. 

Your eyes started to water. You stood up, your joints yelling at you as they snapped and popped. You walked into camp, trying to make yourself as quiet and invisible as possible, walking swiftly to Karlach’s tent. You took your bedroll silently and found a spot in a clearing under a tree opposite to the clearing you woke up in. Leaning your head against the trunk you closed your eyes, crying silently until you fell asleep. 

_________________

Astarion gazed at you from his tent for a large chunk of the night. Everyone else was fast asleep and he had just returned from a hunt. He could hear your heartbeat: soft, steady, calm. He heard your heartbeat when you arrived in the clearing, he’s the one who called the others to investigate with him. He was surprised you were so still when he found you. Your heart was beating hard, fast, endlessly. Terrified. He hadn’t heard a heart beat like that in a while. It was how all his victims' hearts sounded after he gave them to Cazador. He pushed the thought out of his mind, which wasn't hard as it was overtaken by another, more overwhelming thought. Why had he only heard your heartbeat and felt the immediate urge to find you and protect you? He felt something stir inside his chest when he laid eyes on you. That wasn’t allowed. That wasn't his purpose. He didn’t get to feel his own feelings. Everything was consumed by Cazador and the looming threat of him returning to Astarions life. He shuddered. He could smell the faintest scent of your blood that was dried on your hand from earlier. Gods it was sweet, even thinking of it made him salivate. His best option was to avoid you enough and reject you enough that the feeling inside him would cease. It was easy. You were already distressed. How much more could you fall emotionally? And yet, as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest he couldn’t help but think of anything else beyond how soft you looked. How peaceful. Your face relaxed, your jaw unclenched, your eyes puffy, fly aways clinging to your face, eyelashes still wet, short breaths being exhaled from your mouth. You were… cute. 

Shit. 

____________________

You awoke just as the sun started to rise. The sky is a beautiful mixture of blues, pinks, and purples. You sat up as if it would get you a better view of the heavens. Astarion walked up behind you quietly. “You’re up early.” he stated. You jumped slightly before facing the sky again. “Early riser.” you said back. Astarion hummed back before walking down the hill of your clearing. You followed him swiftly, not wanting to be completely alone in a camp full of sleepers. Astarion bent down softly into the small stream, gathering the water in his hands and gently rubbing it into his face. You sat silently next to him, gently letting your fingers dip into the rushing stream. 

“What is that?” Astarion asked, glancing at your boot. You looked at him confused. He leaned over and pulled out the object.

There, in all its glory, your phone. You quickly snatched it from Astarion, his voice fading into the background. You turned your phone on, it had no service but it still worked and that was a great comfort. Suddenly it was ripped from your grasp.

Astarion stood up, holding the phone up and away from you. “What is this? Must be important.” He teased with a sneer. “Is it powerful?”

You stood quickly, putting your hand out “Please give it back its mine.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that it is yours. You need to answer my question though before I’ll consider giving it back.”

“I… I don’t know how to explain it… they don’t have these devices in your world…” you trailed off.

Astarion rose an eyebrow at you, “My world? So you’re from another world? Now I know you’re lying.”

“Wait! Maybe… maybe I can show you something with it.” You said in a small voice, reaching your hand out once again. “Something you’ve wanted for a long time…”

He eyed you up and down repeatedly before tossing your phone at you, “This better be worth it.”

You opened your phone's front-facing camera and stood next to Astarion, gently turning the phone in his direction. You saw his face drop then he just… stared. You started to bring the phone back down before his hand caught your wrist. His hold was gentle and cold, “Just a moment.” he whispered.

You nodded and let him hold the phone. He gazed at his eyes for ages before opening his mouth. He licked over his fangs, gently tracing his lips with his fingertips. “What is this thing? Why can I see myself?” He spat at you, suddenly angry. He tossed the phone at your feet before storming off to camp, leaving you alone at the stream.  ____________________

The sun was now high in the sky and you had enough of sulking by the stream. If you were going to be stuck here for a while, better start working on making some friends. You walked back to camp before seeking out Gale.

“Morning! Is there something I can help with, you have an inquisitive look on your face.” he smiled at you. 

You gave a small smile before asking, “I was hoping you could help me… enchant something? It needs power to survive, usually electric power but I don’t think that will work right now… can you try?” 

Gale looked away as if thinking about what he could do; he snapped his fingers, “Ah! Yes, I think I might have something for that, Mystra willing and all. Can I see what you are talking about?” 

You nodded quickly, shoving the phone into Gale’s hands. 

“This little thing?” he glanced back at you. You nodded and gave a pleading look. 

He nodded and sent you a soft smile before speaking strange words over it. Colorful beams of misty light enveloped your device, now floating in between Gale’s hands. He finished his incantation, all the beams shooting into your phone before he caught it as the spell seemingly ended. He smiled brightly and handed it back to you before crossing his arms over his chest. “Well… did it work?” he asked you, unsure how the device worked he was iffy about his magic in this instance.

You turned your phone back on, full battery that seemed unchanging for now. You smiled back at Gale “Yes! Thank you so much…. I appreciate you and your kindness towards me as a stranger.” 

“With pleasure friend, bring it back should it start to falter, I’d be more than happy to fix it.” he said.

You smiled at him one final time before walking towards Karlach who was currently accompanied by Shadowheart and Lae’zel. Slipping your phone back into your boot, you quietly walked up to them. Their conversation died down once they saw you walking over. Lae’zel shot daggers at you, her gaze alone felt violent. Shadowheart and Karlach sent you small smiles. 

“If you are going to travel with us we need to know your strengths. How are you useful to us and our endeavors?” Lae’zel questioned “You’re obviously no warrior, so what are you?” she gritted out. 

“I’m a cleric… I practice under Ilmater… though I haven’t seen a battle before.” You spoke, picking at your nails instead of focusing on the women in front of you.

Lae’zel spat on the ground, “Not only have we taken in another mouth to feed, we have taken in a useless cleric with no combat experience. We may well have taken in a child.” she went back to her tent, wildly slashing at the poor practice dummy as if to further demonstrate her displeasure. 

You winced watching, imagining every blow aimed at you. Shadowheart put her hand on your shoulder. “Perhaps we should go see Gale. He’s a follower of Mystra and I of Shar, I’m sure we can teach you a few things. Do you know much about Ilmater?” she asked, leading you by the back of your arm towards Gale. You shook your head no. “Well, my knowledge is limited, but if I recall correctly he is the protector of the persecuted and oppressed. There are worse gods to be in service to.” she chuckled. You smiled and gave her hand a squeeze as a soft ‘thank you’ for her simple kindness. 

“I overheard, let's get to work shall we?” Gale asked you both before conjuring the weave, creating a safe, fragmented reality to practice in without causing any real damage. 

Hello! This is my first ever public fic so please be gentle lol I'd love some drabble requests in the mean time before I send out chapter 2. I hope you enjoy! :)

[theroseiswithoutawherefor]

Well, first of all, I have to thank @yridenergyridenergy for selling me the ticket! It was literally the best experience I had throughout the year; I really, really, sincerely appreciate it.

As promised, this is my repo of the gig in Wakayama. To be honest, I’m really a bad recorder as I can only recall the sensation or vibe in general and forget the details every time. Am I the only one?? Anyway, I guess my drawings may not be precise at all and it would be more like a summary of the year.

And this repo will be focusing on Kaoru, Toshiya and Kyo. I’m sorry but I stood on the left in both times.

Kaoru

It’s so strange that I can easily feel my love for him grows with time and what a coincidence! I visited them twice this year and I was right in front of him every time. I always assumed that I would be in front of Toshiya when I checked the hall map in December, but no! It was Kaoru again! It kinda shocked me the time I located my seat and noticed his microphone stand was there, just about 2 meters away.

I think probably it has been known by all of you, the show started with a semi-transparent screen showing some AI-generated footage(sorry, I hate this part). It covered most of the setting but just revealed some shadows. I could only see Kaoru, his side profile, priest-alike gown and silver hair. He looked so focused and indifferent and so good-looking…my hands are still sweating as I recall it now.

That was my first time listening to Rinkaku on-site. I got caught up in emotion when you could easily compare themselves in reality and their sketches in the video. You could see how much they have changed and it also just reminded me a lot of moments, staying at home and staring them on the screen. The real vs the virtual.

Also, at the beginning from the distance, I could only see some sort of marks on his chin that looked pretty much like piercings? It turned out to be his makeup; so brilliant.

Kyo

I didn’t see Kyo that much this time, but I feel he is that kind of vocal that you would fall in love with once you’ve actually seen him in the venue. He looked so nostalgic to me this time, maybe bc of the ghost face makeup or the fact that I have seen him too much this year. I also went to HK for sukekiyo this year.

The gig of sukekiyo was more emotional, floating and spacey (and less aggressive, obviously). Kyo’s dedication was so contagious. Although he looked a little bit nervous at the beginning of the Day1, forgetting the lyrics now and then lol.

It is interesting to see the similarities and differences between Diru and Sukekiyo, like looking at different reflections of the same mirror.  

Btw probably he is the most inspiring Diru member to me I guess. Idk why drawing kyo always begins with a pretty satisfying draft then it becomes a big challenge to my expertise and patience ahhhh. But yeah, I can improve a lot after finishing it. So, kyo, thx? lol

Toshiya

I’m not quite a fan of his white outfit that day(the one worn in the pic of their tweet on 16th Dec). Actually I even failed to recognize him the first, waistcoat and palazzo trouser are ok but definitely not the most stunning look of him. It seems that his style is becoming more gender-neutral this year, with hair dyed brown, pearl jewelries and feminine makeup.

But I still quite enjoyed his performance, his body language was so beautiful (ugh! It’s such a shame that I can’t recreate it)and he was the first one going to the left terrace and saying hi to everyone. Toshiya is always the sweetest person in Diru to me.

I prefer his encore look more and he took off the shirt and threw it to the gift right in front of him

（and a random sketch）

That’s it! I could have drawn more but, sorry I’m a perfectionist, these pics really took me some time, but I may keep going if I have spare time.

And I’m not used to talking so much on the Internet, it is embarrassing somehow.  

The year of 2023 has treated me rly good, I hope it would be the same for all of you and Diru members, see you next year.

[cocogrrrl]

HIIIIIII ugh ur writings are so freakin good and so fun to read it makes me AHHHH could I request kyle, stan, and kenny (separate) with a f!reader that can’t control her facial expressions at all so she’s pretty much an open book? Maybe have the reader be an artist so when she’s drawing she’s like 🤩😙🙁😋🤨😱😐 THANK UUUUU

expressions

(headcannons + drabbles!) the main three's separate reaction to their artist gf who is very expressive whenever they draw (requested!)

main three (separate) x female!reader no cws wc: 1007 overall

an: omg its my first time writing in an hc listed format also the drabbles are a lot more artist gf than the expressive thing sorry huhuuu (also i forgot to reply to the ask last time i took up a request LMAO)

🍀 k. broflovski (wc: 330)

He really wants to comment on it, but doesn’t wanna bother you

I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just think that he finds it entertaining to see your mood and facial expressions shift around a lot

Like okay imagine you two parallel playing, both of you off in your own worlds

Kyle looks up at you to see you go from happy to frustrated to upset to shocked all in the span of a few seconds

He definitely finds it adorable and just basks in it by the side

Completely forgets what he was doing cause you’re just so gosh darn cute awwww

You were lying face down, arms holding you up, on his bed. You were tasked to make landscapes of any place but from different perspectives and views. To be honest, you were struggling a little bit. Backgrounds and scenery aren’t quite your strong points, but that didn’t mean you weren’t trying! You were lying down there, tongue poking out as you focused really hard to get the drawing looking at least a little bit realistically correct. You were real deep into it that you didn’t even realize Kyle was watching you until you heard a soft giggle in the back, which immediately made your head whip up. “Hmmm?” You hummed, questioning what he was laughing about. “Ah, it’s nothing.” He smiled at your curiosity. The look of amusement on his face was still there, so you had a hint of what was going on. “You’re just really pretty." You felt your cheeks heat up, giddily smiling to yourself as you felt your legs kicking back and forth in happiness. “Thank you…” You hummed. He only laughed more in return. “Don’t thank me.” He said, lifting your head up by the chin with his fingers as he placed a little kiss on your nose.

🍁 k. mccormick (wc: 360)

FINDS IT SO CUTE

but definitely teases you about it like

“You should take up acting, YN. You’re really good at changing emotions.”

Do you know how some people make facial expressions and random body movements for reference while drawing?

When he sees it for the first time, with no context whatsoever, he thought you got possessed or something CAUSE YOU WERE JUST FLAILING YOUR ARMS AROUND WHILE LOOKING INTENTLY AT THEM

I can just imagine him lying down, watching you drawing, while he’s kicking his feet in the air HEPL

You and your boyfriend, Kenny, were sat slumped against a wall in the back of some alleyway, spending your time together in the quiet where only sounds of passing cars, footsteps and chatter of pedestrians, and the soft winds blowing every now and then. You were getting into your drawings on your little sketchbook, moving from one doodle to the other and leaving many unfinished. Every couple of minutes, you’d revisit the other, but that was only if you were still up to it. Other than that, you had new ideas pulling you away from your drawings every other second. Kenny was playing with the hair that fell by the side of your face as you were doing your own business—twirling, braiding, and unfurling it over and over again. You stretched out your hand and formed it in a reached-out, grabbing motion, shifting it every so often to get a better view of what it looked like. Kenny watched you observing yourself in intrigue as well, resting his chin on your shoulder. As soon as you were done and about to get back to drawing, he lifted himself back up and started to play with your hair once more. While you were drawing out the hand same hand you motioned earlier, you felt a soft kiss on your cheek, which caught you off guard. You turned your head in Kenny's direction, giving him a look that asked, ‘Why?’ Not in a bad way, just out of curiosity. He shrugged in return, cupping your face in one hand with his fingers resting on both cheeks as he squeezed them. “Cutie.”

🎸 s. marsh (wc: 317)

He doesn’t pay much mind to it honestly

He sees it for the first time and thinks it’s kinda silly, but not much after that

He brings it up sometimes though like

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s funny how you’re really expressive.”

But really its not something that bothers him

If anything, he finds it really adorable sometimes, especially when you get a little too into the zone and you’re just changing expressions every millisecond

Honestly, I think it’s a neat little dynamic since you’re probably really bubbly while Stan’s more aloof

You and Stan were in your favorite corner of the world—Stark’s Pond. Okay, technically, it’s one of the farthest things from a corner, given that it’s a whole landscape, but it was a special place unbeknownst to many, especially people who aren’t from the small town of South Park. You two were sat on a bench by the pond, Stan playing the guitar cross-legged, and you were leaning towards it while drawing on your tablet. You hummed along with the songs he was playing, familiar to you as it was your relationship’s self-declared theme song. Your face was twisted in a pout, trying to get a small detail, but important (to you), correct. You clicked your tongue, flipping your canvas every so often to make sure it looked right or physically possible. You sighed, resting your body weight on Stan as he paused to look at you and your art’s progress. “Frustrated?” He hummed, putting his arm down so that it was more comfortable for you to lean onto him. “No,” you clicked your tongue. “Just need to get around this little part. Like, I can’t  draw feet for the life of me.” You sighed, tipping your head a little further as you ground into Stan's shoulder. He found himself giggling at you, patting your back, and giving you a little kiss on the cheek.

[estrellami-1]

I would tell you this off anon but I love your writing and esp the way u write Steve n robin :) :D

Ahhhh hello friend!!!!! You’re more than welcome to come off anon if you want but I fully respect your decision to stay on anon :) thank you so much, you’re so kind!!!!! Steve and Robin are very dear to my heart as I am also “always the damn babysitter” and have a lesbian best friend and we are platonic soulmates and have been since before Stranger Things was even a thing. I’m well aware she and I don’t have the *exact* dynamic Steve and Robin do, but I definitely draw from it a lot in my writing!

You are very very kind and I haven’t had time to write in a while, so here’s a little something just for you ❤️

(also side note I’m writing it in this reply on mobile online instead of the app and Tumblr is an entire dumpster fire so occasionally it’ll glitch and I can’t see what I’m writing… so I have to post and then edit… bear with me. 😂)

Robin is Steve’s best friend in the entire world. He genuinely know he wouldn’t be where he is today if it wasn’t for her.

However, Robin is also… Robin.

“Goddamn you,” he gripes, “that’s my sweater.”

“Is not,” she returns. “It was in my closet.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you stole it!”

“Did not! And anyways you still have my sunglasses.”

He gapes at her. “Because you gave them to me!”

she narrows her eyes at him. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because I get migraines!” He drags a hand down his face. “I got a bad one at work and you handed me your glasses and took my keys, remember?”

“No,” she sniffs, in the way that means she totally does and doesn’t want to admit it. She deflates. “Do you want the sweater back?”

“Nah,” he smirks, “it looks better on you.”

She scoffs. “It looks gayer on me, maybe.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “that’s what I said.”

She slaps him with a sweater sleeve. “Let’s get ice cream after.”

“Only if you’re buying.”

“Fuck you, you know I’m broke.”

“I know.” He grins. “I’ll pay as long as we go to Mary’s.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it, and go silent, working together with little glances that say more than words ever could.

“Okay,” Robin says, because silence is a thing she hates, tolerates it only because it helps Steve’s migraines. “So about Eddie-”

“Oh, fuck you.”

[terrainofheartfelt]

and now, a playlist:

Mister Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

or,

FirstPrince (Taylor's Version)

shoutout to my beloved cherry @blairwaldcrf my friend in rwrb and my enabler in everything related to the two himbos above.

shoutout to this post specifically for their intrepid scholarship

listen at the unlisted youtube playlist here

Track list and annotations under the cut.

✨tracks✨

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things They broke an $80k wedding cake. and alex is such a brat about it. and holds a grudge like none other 

Gorgeous Alex hoarding that magazine cover of Henry. Henry is literally so gorgeous the bisexual jumps out

Teardrops on my Guitar  Henry-coded the only one who’s got enough of me to break my heart I MEAN

Untouchable The. YEARNING. I want you but I cannot risk telling you so you please tell me say it first please say it first please. Ever thought about that bros being bros visit from Henry’s perspective? Hmm? I didn’t know you wear glasses

gold rush Long distance bro-ship. Just chattin and textin. Gay crush gay crush gay crush. Watching each other’s public love lives and seething. Almost jump into the fantasy but then letting it fade to gray. or as the british say, grey. 

Stay Beautiful The constant texting. Each one finds a way to be the other’s highlight of his day. But we were ever so careful dear. Alex being america’s sweetheart and Henry being totally gone for him

Foolish One Henry kiddoooooo. The prince with the heart on the outside of his chest. 

Forever Winter before their relationship is even romantic, they are a safe place for each other. Like christmas. and thanksgiving. 

You’re on Your Own, Kid NYE. Henry’s gayass breaking point, searching the party of better bodies and wanting wanting wanting.

Tied Together with a Smile The prince charming act be coming undone!

Message in a Bottle Alex’s bisexual crisis. He knows henry likes him, and it’s kinda frightening, standing here waiting, and that asshole won’t return his calls so he’s gotta trick him into a state dinner at the white house.

Treacherous A state dinner of antici………PATION. And a makeout in the drawing room. As one does.

Electric Touch  alex waiting after dinner in his white house bedroom all nervouslike

Snow on the Beach First hookup. Soft disbelief, because you wanting me tonight feels impossible. Snow in DC (a swamp) is as weird as snow on a beach imo. 

I Can See You FWB era. If you could only see all the things that happen inside my head. At galas and polo matches and wimbledon and whatnot

Wildest Dreams The henry journey. This will end and it will wreck him but right now it’s beautiful. Also this is the song for hooking up in a stable post polo

Delicate Secret relationship. Boys are bad with feelings. Oh damn never seen that color blue. I pretend you’re mine all the damn time. Waking up with each other in Paris speaking of: 

Paris No I didn’t see the news. Too busy getting dicked down by the most eligible bachelor in the Western world. What who said that.

Lavender Haze Don’t read into my melancholia. Let’s just stay in this gay suspended animation. This secret bubble. It’s safe here. 

22 They literally spend Alex’s 22nd birthday together you know he was feelin’ 22. Pretty sure the novel says that actually

I Think He Knows It’s fun and flirty and the feelings are creeping in at the edges, but not enough that they have to face them

Jump Then Fall Alex is a smitten kitten

So It Goes… LA gala. All eyes are on them but as separate entities. Magician, illusionist. Trying to play it chill but being utterly incapable. 

Starlight dancing in the club in LA. Alex getting carried away by queer joy

Dress Their night together in LA. their secret moments in a crowded they got no idea about me and you. Their hands are shaking from holding back from each other! Say his name and everything just stops! They don’t want each other like best friends! Pez only bought those custom kimonos so they could take em off! Ah ah ah ahhhh! Carve your name into Alex’s bedpost, Henry babe. 

Hey Stephen cutesy emailing. Hey henry you blew my mind in LA last week u up? I can’t help it if you look like an angel/achilles/james bond

I’m Only Me when I’m with You Sweet email exchange post LA. I’ll be damned but I miss you

…Ready for It? (BloopPop remix) Henry says In the middle of the night in my dreams you should see the things we do….Let the games begin

Glitch Wimbledon. Fucking love doing things out of spite. I’m not even sorry. Henry will go back eventually to dudes to give him nothing but for now there’s this 

Sparks Fly DNC. Henry really dropped everything to come see alex at the convention. The kinda reckless that should send him running, but he kinda knows that he won’t get far. Give him something that’ll haunt him when he’s not around, Alex. 

Everything Has Changed Telling madam president mom. Do you feel forever about him? Henry making a point to be there for him is alex’s emotional tipping point. 

State of Grace Time between dnc and lakehouse is their state of grace. No leaving, no leaking. It can’t last but its so good. Mosaic broken hearts, but brave and wild and I never saw you coming and I’ll never be the same

cowboy like me Alex texas boy. The reflective nature he turns on henry once he’s fired from the campaign. Thinking about that word forever

Wonderland Never worse but never better. In all their searching of the world they won’t find anything else that feels like what they have. yk?

Cruel Summer summer vacay at the lake house. the darkness approacheth. I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you but here I am sealing my fate over and over again 

You Are in Love ‘you’re my best friend.’ and you knew what is was: Alex is so in love he could die

willow Alex at the dock like he is begging for Henry to take his hand and wreck his plans. He’s like that’s my MAN.

illicit affairs it dies a million little times. like by a lake in the moonlight. henry sees the truth when it shows and alex gets angry because you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else 

Bye Bye Baby henry fleeing texas. You took me home but you just couldn’t keep me

Midnight Rain He wanted it comfortable I wanted that pain. I broke his heart ‘cause he was nice 

Hits Different when alex thinks about the sham the firm will make henry go through. I pictured you with other girls “in love” then threw up on the street

august refrain of henry. It was never mine. You weren’t mine to lose. This was over before it even began

Breathe Separated. Neither of them doing well. 

exile alex obliviousness meets henrys stubbornness. the imagery of nations and homelands

Anti-Hero henry has it’s me high I’m the problem it’s me at tea time everybody agrees disease. no cure but it can be treated 

Renegade alex working up a head of steam because he just wants to say get your shit together so I can love you 

Maroon your body comes back to me in dreams and I wake with your memory over me that’s a real fucking legacy!!!!

my tears ricochet alex has literally never had it within himself to go with grace. Ever. In his life. Bless him. Screaming at skies. Stealing lullabies. You know how it is. 

How You Get the [Boy] Narration of the storming of Kensington Palace. Alex being like I want you for worse or for better I would wait forever and ever

The Archer Henry prepared for a lot but he never prepared for Alex staying

Love Story  The dramatics the mythologizing of one’s life the I want you / Then fucking have me like “baby, just say yes” also romeo and juliet and pyramus & thisbe are the same fucking story!!!!

Stay Stay Stay Morning after when Henry comes into the room with coffee. How he could have a lifetime of fine but he’d rather have this. 

Holy Ground Dancing in the V&A

Today Was a Fairytale Lots of this music plays with the idea of fairytales and royalty and the push and pull idealism has with reality and it just fits so well. Because. Prince. &c.

Come Back…Be Here Having the big conversation and then alex having to leave and go back to dc. The long distance drama. This is falling in love in the cruelest way.

End Game choosing to do this thing for real. knowing what they’re up against. Big reputation big reputation ooh you and me would be a big conversation 

Labyrinth oops they both caught feelings. Henry thought the plane was going down how’d he turn it right around 

Cornelia Street The sacred new beginnings that became their religion aka those crazy 48 hours holed up in Kensington. Tender and fragile and amazing

mirrorball henry’s fable. His shattered pieces and the peasant boy with chin dimples who is not like the regulars the masquerade revelers. never been a natural all he does is just try try try

Paper Rings I thought you were a nuisance but whoops you're now the air I breathe. In paper rings and picture frames and dirty dreams

Timeless The phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me. All the quotes and recitations they send each other in their emails. 

cardigan The intimate email conversations. Always wanting to know more about the other. 

Lover  The ease with which they say I love you post storming of the castle.

Out of the Woods The almost reveal and the cover up dates with June & Nora to make a cover. The hiding in an alleyway in the car. When the sun came up you were looking at me.

False God Rumors aside they are both In This and that shalt not change. Still worship this love. They might just get away with it.

invisible string it all began at the olympics. All the winding paths of our public lives one single thread of gold tied me to you, &c.

Mastermind Henry saying he’s loved Alex the entire goddamned time! Newsflash asshole (affectionate)

hoax Sería una mentira, porque no sería él. The only hoax he believes in! He feels forever about it!

peace The last email sent before the leak. Give yourself away sometimes sweetheart there’s so much of you

I Know Places The something that happens when everybody finds out. The vultures circling dark clouds.

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince Alex and the leak fallout. The whispers in the hallway. American stories burning before me & high fives between bad guys. 

I Did Something Bad The email leak. There’s the harshness of the trauma, but there’s also madam president mom going “fuck it.” Don’t tell me this song didn’t pull henry through. Avoiding plans and sucking cock. Don’t knock it til you try it. Go ahead and light me up

the lakes (original version) I like this mix because it’s more ~cinematic~ to me. And something about henry not being cut out for these cynical clones and hunters with cell phones yk?

Run The phone call from air force one post leak. The eye in the storm

Sweet Nothing It’s them in the music room of Kensington. It’s alex “can’t let anyone know how much he needs” claremont-diaz admitting he’s just too soft for all of it

Slut if they’re gonna talk shit, we may as well be together in public. It might be worth it for once

You Need to Calm Down Shade never made anybody less gay, fake elizabeth ii. Why are you mad when you can be glaad, pip?

King of My Heart  Wordplay on royalty words, yk. “That’s the bravest son of a bitch I’ve ever met” yk.

Change The crowds in front of Buckingham, alex’s speech from the white house. History, huh?

London Boy We hold this track listing to be self evident

Ours The contrast of the outer life and inner life. Private relationship  under large public scrutiny. 

It’s Nice to Have a Friend It’s about the best friends to best friends AND lovers.

Call It What You Want He wears his signet ring on a chain round his neck not because he owns me because he really knows me, &c

Karma Everything surrounding finding the source of the leak and Rafael Luna double agent and the fact that Alex and Henry can both say that Karma is their Boyfriend. 

Long Live Election night in Austin.

New Year’s Day The mythical place NYE occupies in Alex’s public life and now his private one with Henry. The Balls Out Bonanza is great but now it’s about what comes after. 

[ambrosia-ghostie]

i am so upset.

here are my real-time thoughts from tua series finale, i guess:

- is gun control not a thing in this timeline? jeez

- i don’t even know where i’d get a gun lmao

- this is giving MAGA… yikes

- i love meghan so much. national treasure. AND she can sing. EGOT, please.

- lila isn’t the only one hiding stuff from her husband 👀

- diego talking about lila with a new lease on life 🥺

- awh this is very “it’s a wonderful life”

- lila’s family is fab. the spinoff we need.

- i love how many actors get to perform as other actors performing another role on this show

- the whistle !!! call him out dr. jean !!!

- THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY

- dr. jean deserved better !!! 😭

- i love the fast food lady (featured extra). she understood the assignment.

- “it smells so nice in here!” why are me and klaus the same person but completely different?

- call back to viktor drawing the umbrella tattoo as a kid !!!

- holy shit, ben is the fly

- body horror is so cool

- oh hey! they’re seeing each other and it’s neither a wedding nor a funeral

- klaus still eating because he deserves it - just give him all the nourishment, please

- why do they always wait to tell each other the most important thing ??? one brain cell - i stg

- “not during christmas” - oh, diego. for those of us with chaotic families, it’s always on christmas

- klaus scooping up five’s empty seat is such big family/sibling energy

- “i didn’t see that one coming!” klaus, luther, and allison look just as confused as i still am

- THIS IS SO WEIRD AND RANDOM

- LITTLE GRACE NOOOO

- time travel is wild. five was right in s1 - i am not smart enough for it.

- “do you love him?” 🥺

- cronenberg would love this. i wonder how much of the virus effect is practical vs. cgi

- klaus’s clothes make a lot more sense for the final showdown since he probably borrowed from one of lila’s relatives

- luther’s borrowed clothing is a bit too luther to be believably borrowed tho

- this is my favorite van 🚐 set piece since little miss sunshine

- allison pulling the emergency brake is the ultimate mom arm 💪

- i too, like five, always end up in the subway (as a new yorker)

- oh shit, i just realized that no one probably told klaus how ben really died - ugh

- but, you know what, allison probably didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy with more trauma so i’ll let the lack of communication slide this time

- “i can fly now! oh it hurts”

- aim for the tanks… like jaws… the… 🦈 ?

- sigh, five and diego beef is just really not necessary - i’m annoyed

- “my hand is stuck in its ass” !!!

- FIVE AND DIEGO STOP THIS NONSENSE

- WHO CARES ??? this romance is not that important, dude. you’ve been trying to save your family for decades, my guy 😭

- oh damn - is five going to find the right subway station now?

- if they all forget everything like fucking dorothy in kansas, i’m going to be so mad

- holy shit - PET CEMETARY, but like PET SEMETERY !!! you can’t bring someone back, not really… that’s the show 😭

- netflix loves their stephen king

- this is also the lesson in 11/22/63… JFK… yeah

- i could write a thesis on this rn

- we got our coffee shop AU ?!?!

- can i be “cheesecake five”?

- oh… oh no

- THE COMMISSION! THE FOUNDER! AHHHH

- no no no

- don’t make my children not exist 😭

- THIS ISN’T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR

- i’m sobbing… out of hurt and anger, tbh

- the children/family are on the lifeboats 💔

….

….

…

i’m not going to be ok for a while

klaus didn’t find out how ben died ???

wouldn’t ghost ben have been able to tell him ???

they really did borrow from stephen king because the alien reginald plot was pointless (i’m looking at you, under the dome)

all in all, i’m glad i got to spend time with these characters… we could have gotten even fewer seasons based on how netflix operates. but this ending could have been written/executed so much better.

i would have even smiled if the last scene was with everyone in the void. but no. we get the original ending of the little mermaid with the marigolds instead of sea foam 😫

there were parts of it i did like - especially the cleanse - but i feel like we all deserved better…

i dedicate this post to the memory of dave, sissy, ray, and every other beautiful character who ultimately became disposable. 💔

[lxfinty]

┊𝐢'𝐦 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝

miguel o’hara ; spider-man: across the spider-verse

pairing: miguel x gn!reader (you do not show up though)

warnings: (vague) breakup emotions, angst

request: n/a

summary: inspired by ‘i’m tired’ - labrinth & zendaya

a/n: kind of worded like a poem (sorry I love writing poetry and can’t stop)

character credit: spider-verse movie series

w/c: 456

'Hey Lord, You Know I'm Tired.'

It is like clockwork really – the way Miguel goes about the day.

Home: The place for basic necessities that couldn’t be completed at headquarters. The place where he was supposed to yearn to go to at the end of each day, yet the place where he rarely ends up. It is less of a “home” and more of an unnecessary residence, for your presence was fading faster than he cared to acknowledge and to keep outside the walls was to keep you in.

Work: The Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse, he would call it by no other name because that is exactly what it is. A multiverse. Multiple realities converging and connecting through the means of spider-people. If he had a home, and he uses if very wisely, he would consider headquarters the living room that he never occupies; always trapped in his own hideaway for means of work, “play” does not exist in his vocabulary – not anymore at least. The enjoyment of downtime had withered away once you had left, leaving the quiet that relaxation had brought to accept the racket of his misfortune.

Missions: When Miguel was not in one of the two listed places, he was surely on a hunt of his own. He does this a lot now, taking on assignments himself. Though he has timelines to monitor and canon events to oversee, he finds that hands-on pursuits block out the noise more thoroughly than any desk duty. He takes every hit and assault, willingly putting himself in harmful positions in hopes that the ringing in his ears will drown out the distant echo of your laugh.

He can no longer carry weight of his own memories.

So this cycle repeats. In various orders and never through allocated time frames, but using these three places, using these three environments Miguel allows his days to choke on the air that lacks of your scent in hopes that the sounds of his own suffering will drown him.

‘It is all I got, Is this Enough?’

He likes to remind himself that he tried his best, that he held on to the breaking strings of your relationship for as long as he could.

But did he really?

Surely if he did he wouldn’t be wishing for you gone from his mind while simultaneously wishing for his memories to draw fresh.

He does not wish for you back.

He does not wish to witness you breaking again, because that is exactly what would happen. He would never be able to give you what you deserve – what you desire most and he does not wish to watch you walk away again.

He wouldn't be able to erase the memory once more.

short little drabble to get me back into writing,, also ahhhh first spiderverse ff after being obsessed for MONTHS (my requests are open!)

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

Hi ^^ now when i've found your list, and i feel safer than a while ago (thank you! :D ) and i have no idea what Aphelion could be, may i ask about:

Melshi and the others ...?

ahhhh, my dear Nen, that is part 2 of my zombie AU i wrote for Whumptober!

(also, side note, 'Aphelion' is an astronomical term for when two heavenly bodies that orbit each other are at their further points away from each other. take from that what you will)

here's a snippet of part 2 of Sometimes the Wolf:

Jyn lays half upright against the other wheel well, still panting. Her own charge seems to have passed out on her chest— from sheer exhaustion or from shock he can’t say, but it doesn’t matter. He can work around her. “Cass…” she hisses at him almost in warning as he drags himself toward her. He snaps open the thick plastic hatch of the tac box. “It’s too late—“ “Are you feeling feverish?” he asks, plucking the precious vial from the foam encasing it and shaking it. “No, but… Cassian it could just be the rain… or shock. Too much time has passed—“ “The virus works different on everyone. Thirty minutes is just a rule of thumb—“ “Cassian, if you do this and I turn anyway, it will be a waste. Wasted when it could be used for someone else.” He pulls the cap off the syringe with his teeth. Pierces the vial and begins to draw. “Draven will flay you alive!” she continues, growing a bit desperate, perhaps. He flicks air from the needle. “You think I give a shit about that?” He pulls up the sleeve of her jacket, smooths the rain and blood from the bite. It’s black and putrid and hot to the touch. He feels himself reel, but he takes a breath, looks up at her with the best grin he can muster. “Are we married or not?” Cassian waits for a relatively smooth stretch of road as Jyn lets out a harsh breath of frustration. “I can’t fucking believe your making jokes right—“ Jyn halts in her griping with a hiss of pain as the needle goes in. She always did hate needles. Cassian depresses the syringe, pulls the needle free, tosses it back into the box. He grips her face between his hands and brings their brows together. “You’re going to make it,” he swears to her. “You’re going to make it, or I’m going with you.”

[bigmack2go]

I got live‘sies so its time to appreciate‘sies some brackrond‘sies detailies

Not rly bc but i live how it looks like were zooming up, and then back down the lodge before and after santafee prologue

Why tf is crutchie su confused when he wakes up

Jack proceeds to sleep with one of just drawings wtf

He waves his hand infront of crutchie like „ur eyes closed yet??“

Al playing and leaning on the rail ahhhh ahshwksmdnxlxl (in case u didnt know: i love albert)

Race laughing and slapping specs

Everyone just deads in their tracks and teams up when Albert gives his coment that went to far

Finch scratching his head is so real

DID BIRD FLY TWEETY BOY JUST LEAN IN FOR A GOODMORNING KISS

AND DID GINGER MF JUST REFUSE BIRD FLY TWEETY BOY HIS KISS??

The slap on his chest like „not now honey“ 😭swejfcizp

Ike and mike arent in the same thibgy thing. For fucks sake thank god cuz its been bothering me for a while how they only get mentioned in the same context. I hate it when they do that. Wait nvm that looked like mush but it actually was mike.

Naw sniper can be so adorable

Did i mention i fucking love jojo

Smalls snd finch sharing a room ™️

Crutchie is so done w jacks bullshit

LMAO BUTTONS COMBING HIS HAIR

Albert posing infront of the „mirror“ is so me tbh

Ive mever seen anyone struggle this mutch to out on a hat as blink. All those tbh thats smt that could be me prolly

Specs babe what r u doing on the floor

Race shaking his jaket is so overdramatic and its perfect

Mush and henry are a duo I didn’t know I needed.

Why is mush acting like hes in a circus lmfao

Tommy struggling with the pants is everything

Elmer just took his cap off, put it in his pocket, and the magicaly made it apear in his other hand???

Who is tommy saluting at

Naw specs is like a big brother to livesies blink and it breaks my heart in the best way possible

Albert jumps in the middle like when i slide through the kitchen on my socks lmfao

Tbh sniper just wanted to move too

Sky. What was your thought process when you looked at darcy‘s ass instead of Katherine‘s even tho you knew this was gonna be in the proshot?

BUTTONS WTF??

Finch is such a mood istg

Snipe honey ily but you are being a little creepy

HENRY YOU JUST PUT ON THE JACKET HOW DID IT GO OFF U AGAIN?

I demant to know what jojo is doing

Ok smalls just sitting there dangling their feet is everything

BUTTONS ALSO LOOKED AT DARCY INSTEAD OF KATH WTH ?? HER ASS CABT BE THAT BAD /j

Kath awkward queen

Darcy going „alright“ like „okay thats enough, im done— your dONE“

HES SO PROUD 🥹

Specs. Going down backwards are leathers. This are stairs. Please watch where you’re goibg

RACE TOO IS EYEING DARCY INSTEAD OF KATHERINE

Istg romeo and jack r the only ones eyeing kathering wtf is thos?

RACE LOOKS AT CRUTCHES SO KNOWINGLY LIKE AN INSIDE JOKES UNDER BROTHERS LMFAO I LOVE THAT. THEYRE MAKING FUN OF JACK TOGETHER AHSHWKENFN

Ok so elmer actually looked at kath but he honestly just looks angry

Tommy boy save me, youre the only normal person here!

Nvm

Race wtf is your deal??

OKAY SOMEONE HELP ELMER I THINK HES HAVING A SEIZURE

How is blink STILL bot done?!

Jacks just talking to the air

Every single one of finches facial expressions. Like i can’t even count them all.

Hes so done lmfao

Mush? Wtf? Stop? Please?

You wanna share with the class tommy? We wanna laugh too

Buttons just watches like he just gave up like,,, ah whatever you do you

Mush is becoming a poledancer??

WJEN DID SPECS GO BACK UP THERE WTF

Race slapping buttons on the cheek like a grandma💀💀💀

We all agree that albert is that one friend where the whole friendgroup thinks he’s the token straight friends but hes everything but that, its just that he doesn’t talk about it a lot. And there’s that one friend (i wonder who/j) that knows fron experienced how thats just so fucking wrong

Elmer is like „😒😒😒—oh shit thats my cue- IM HAPPY“

So i got aprox two seconds into it and now in tired so see u lmfao

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hiiii, I saw the match ups and i had to participate 🩷

(my first tav was technically based off of me heavily, so i hope that’s okay? and i wanted to give this photo for some help bcuz i love them sm)

So, Jae is afab but uses they/them pronouns, a high elf druid that loves chaos - in healthy amounts - and they’re tattoos represent smudging their eyes when hunting, the dye in their hair comes from their sibling who loved messing with colors. They tend to be pretty neutral when it comes to making decisions, however they help anyone for a bit of coin, if they can cough it up. Their scars are from the animals they tried handling before they were ready :’)

They love swimming, telling stories by the campfire, and listening to their partner read to them since it helps them sleep. They have sleep terrors/visions that usually keep them up, so hearing their lover helps a lot. Quality time and physical touch is their love language, but they can get overwhelmed by too much heat, so they usually just hold hands or hold the others’ pinky. they tend to stare into space just lost in thought with everything going on

(i hope this was okay !!! and thank you in advance !! 🩷)

A/N: Ahhhh, your Tav is so pretty! And it’s totally okay! I basically did the same thing with my Tav- she’s me, but like with powers lol. 

For you, @a-jynx I think Jae’s best matchup would be Halsin! 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Halsin doesn't have preferences when it comes to gender or appearance. He’s very in tune with his feelings and when he falls, he falls pretty hard. He can’t help it. 

As a fellow elf druid, Halsin is immediately drawn to Jae. They appear cunning and mischievous, which draws him in all the further. Halsin may prefer to keep the peace, but that doesn’t mean he isn't up for a little more, shall we say adventure, every now and then. Jae’s desire for chaos keeps him on his toes- in a good way. He may occasionally frown upon Jae’s moral compass being so dependent on the coin, and he’ll voice his displeasure should the situation arise. But for the most part, Halsin is also neutral and can be swayed not by coin, but by the exchanging of favors. He’s more of an ‘I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine’, guy, so he usually goes along with Jae wherever they lead.

And Halsin finds Jae’s tattoos gorgeous. They’re primal, yet natural, and it just hits that sweet spot for him. He also admires Jae’s hair color, as he, himself is rather apprehensive about coloring his. He thinks it’s rather brave of Jae to proudly showcase their personality. Jae’s scars are also a point of admiration for Halsin, as it shows Jae’s learned to give creatures, and by extension, nature itself, the respect it deserves. 

Halsin loves spending quality time with Jae out in nature- be it swimming or hanging out by the campfire. And he loves reading to Jae. He’s an avid collector of books- his camp is practically overflowing with them and he’ll never pass up an opportunity to share them. 

And physical touch is most definitely one of his love languages. He makes it very clear throughout the game just how much he wants to touch the player- to love them in that way. However, Halsin is also very much aware of his size. If his body heat is too much for Jae, he’ll happily back off and be very happy with just holding Jae’s pinky. Whenever Jae has night terrors or disturbing visions, he’s right there, ready to lend Jae his soothing voice or warm hand. 

Jae is such a source of light in Halsin’s troubled life. He would love nothing more than to stay at Jae’s side and support them, in whatever way they need. 

[dark-elf-writes]

Ahhhh, also for Shindeku, a skin writing soul bond? Like baby muzzled Shinso, the only regular conversation he gets is with his Soulmate? And he worries sooo much about revealing his quirk? Especially since his Soulmate seems to love talking about quirks.

ANDJSJSJJAV I have another skin writing one I started as well for a different pairing but this is aaaaaa

At first it starts as an accident where Shinso really needs to tell someone something but he forgot his slate/whiteboard/whatever they make him use since they won’t let him talk so he out of pure frustration just scribbles ‘Bathroom’ on his hand and shoves it into the nearest adult’s face. But by the time he’s going to wash it off he sees a question mark at the end of it that he definitely didn’t write considering the foster home only gives him the cheapest and most streaky ass black pens and that is very clearly bright green ink looking back at him. He washes it off both thrilled and horrified because he finally isn’t alone but there’s no way his soulmate would actually want a villain like him.

He almost doesn’t write back. Almost lets it slip away without reaching out because he knows that the end will hurt so fucking much but… he’s lonely. He’s been lonely for years. And finally, finally there’s someone who’s not scared to talk to him.

The way it works they can’t share names so the go by bunny and kitten. Bunny likes to draw and loves heroes and quirks. Hitoshi always knows when they forget their notebook because his arms end up covered in analyses and doodles of support gear and a scary accurate depiction of exactly what Present Mic looks like mid DJ Punch. They apologize for it, along with the weird gaps, the places on their arms that they always seem to avoid, but Hitoshi begs them to keep going because he’s pretty sure he’s going to die if he doesn’t get to read their rambling or see the stupid little All Might faces they doodle on everything. Both of them share their dreams of being heroes. Both of them promise that they will ring a way to let the other know who they are when they finally get to UA.

(Shinso doesn’t cry when Bunny tells him they got into the class they had been hoping for, knowing that he didn’t. He’s so fucking proud of them through the pain though)

Then the USJ happens and he knows his Bunny is in trouble when thick red writing appears on his arm in the middle of class. Red. So fucking red. He almost tackles Mic as he starts freaking out demanding that there was something wrong on the 1-A field trip and there’s a villain attack and they have to go help them. Mic, being a god damn professional who was just told their own soulmate was in imminent danger, puts their class on lockdown and calls a code red so all of the staff book it to the USJ.

Everyone is safe, Shouta is broken but healing, and Hizashi watches sweet little Midoriya Izuku with their shredded gym uniform still drenched in their husbands and Izuku’s own blood and water and hastily appearing writing along their arms, going around the scars that look suspiciously like burns like their soulmate knows exactly where they would be, as familiar streaky black hand writing begs them to be okay to be alive, and it’s a bit like looking in a mirror and seeing their high school self with Shouta littering their skin in pleas no one else would see.

If they happen to double schedule the two for a talk after they definitely saw Izuku doodling on their hand during class then the only person that will call them out on it is Shouta who honestly owes both of the little listeners for saving his life anyway.