#could you imagine the surprise of those spiders when one day he moved

[pucksandpower]

Danger Noodles

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: When asked to describe Formula 1 drivers in a single word, many people would choose “brave” … but those people clearly haven’t seen your boyfriends near a snake

You sink back into the plush couch, wedged happily between your boyfriends. Max’s arm is draped casually over your shoulders while Charles holds your hand, gently stroking his thumb over your knuckles as they both gaze at you adoringly.

“We have something we want to ask you,” Max says, giving your shoulders a little squeeze.

Your heart flutters, wondering what they’re going to propose. The three of you have been nearly inseparable for the past six months, falling more and more deeply in love with each passing day.

“What is it?”

Charles grins, bringing your hand to his lips for a tender kiss. “Well … we were hoping you would move in with us.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. Of course you’ve dreamed about living with them — waking up tangled in bed together each morning, cooking side by side, cuddling on the couch every night. But there’s one major issue that gives you pause.

“Wow, I don’t know what to say,” you stammer.

“Say yes!” Max nuzzles your cheek. “It will be amazing, the three of us together.”

You bite your lip anxiously. “Well, there’s actually something you should know first ...”

But Charles cuts you off, cupping your face in his hands. “We know this is fast but it just feels right, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine not having you with us when we fall asleep and when we wake up every day. We love you so much.”

He kisses you softly and your reservations start to melt away. How could you even think of say no when they’re looking at you like that, so full of hope and devotion?

Max tilts your chin towards him for a deep, lingering kiss. “Please move in with us, liefje. It will be like a dream come true.”

You open your mouth but Charles swoops in for another kiss, stealing your breath. “Imagine lazy mornings in bed, making those blueberry pancakes you love together, playing with our ...”

He trails off, his nose crinkling adorably as he thinks. You take a deep breath. This is your chance.

“Playing with my pets,” you finish for him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I have pets.”

Max and Charles exchange surprised looks.

“Pets? What kind of pets?” Max asks.

You hesitate, trying to figure out how to break this gently. But the words stick in your throat.

Charles grins and pulls you against his chest. “As long as they’re not snakes or spiders, I think we can handle whatever furry creatures you have.”

Max chuckles. “Yeah, anything but those two. You know how terrified we are of them.” He shudders dramatically.

You open your mouth but Max barrels on enthusiastically.

“I bet you have the cutest little dog or cat. Maybe even both! Don’t worry, we’ll love them because they’re part of you. Plus Jimmy and Sassy could use some more siblings.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Absolutely! Your pets will be our pets. We can’t wait to meet them and spoil them.”

You try again weakly. “But you don’t underst—”

Max presses a finger to your lips. “No more hesitation. We want you to move in with us and we want to meet your pets. I have a good feeling they’ll fit right into the family.”

Charles tickles your sides playfully, making you squeal. “So what do you say? Are you ready to take this next step with us?”

They both gaze at you with such hope and excitement, you can’t bear to ruin it just yet. Moving in together is a big step, one you’ve dreamed of taking. And they seem so thrilled about your pets, misunderstanding though it is.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe they’ll come around once they actually meet your snakes and see how sweet and harmless they are. You can ease them into it slowly.

“Yes,” you finally say, breaking into a wide smile. “I would love to move in with you both.”

Max and Charles let out whoops of joy, tackling you backwards onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and ecstatic kisses. You dissolve into giggles, caught up in their infectious enthusiasm.

For now, you decide to just enjoy this moment. The conversation about snakes can wait a little longer. You snuggle into your boyfriends’ arms, thrilled to be taking this step even if you have a nagging worry about their reaction to your pets.

But their smiles chase away those doubts for the time being. Curled between these two men who you love with your whole heart, you feel like the luckiest person alive.

***

You take a deep breath as you look around your new shared bedroom. The movers have brought in all of your boxes. Your clothes are hanging neatly in the walk-in closet next to Max’s Red Bull branded shirts and Charles’ eclectic collection of pants. Your knickknacks are scattered around, blending seamlessly with their belongings.

This really is your home now. The thought makes your heart swell even as your stomach twists anxiously. There’s only one thing left to move in — your beloved pet snakes.

You decided put this off until the very end, dreading your boyfriends’ reaction. But now you can’t delay any longer.

Taking another deep breath, you head down the hall to where Max and Charles are unpacking your novelty mugs in the kitchen.

Max looks up with a grin as you enter. “Is everything all moved in?”

You force a smile. “Just about. There’s, um, just three things left.”

Charles wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Well let’s go get them! I’m so excited to finally meet these pets of yours.”

Your throat goes dry. You should have told them sooner. But there’s no backing out now.

“Yeah, about that ...” you start nervously.

But Max is already eagerly dragging you towards the front door. “Come on, what are we waiting for? Bring in the fur babies!”

Your steps drag reluctantly as you lead them down to the garage where your car is parked. You open the backseat door, reaching for the first snake habitat.

Max and Charles peer eagerly into the car. As you turn, reptile habitat in hand, their faces morph from excitement to confusion to outright horror.

Charles stumbles back with a yelp. “Is that a snake?”

You bite your lip, cradling the habitat protectively against your chest. Your corn snake stares back at them curiously.

“Yes, this is Caramel. She’s my pet corn snake. And I have two other snakes — Cookie and Basil.” You gesture at the other two setups still in the car.

Max’s face has gone pale, his eyes wide as saucers as he stares at Caramel. Charles looks similarly shaken.

“Snakes?” Charles squeaks in disbelief. “Your pets are snakes?”

You nod, feeling awful for not warning them sooner. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t know how to bring it up ... but they’re very sweet, I promise! They would never hurt anyone.”

But Max has already stumbled several more steps away, looking like he might pass out. “You want us to live with snakes? Actual slithering, scaly snakes?”

Charles shakes his head rapidly, hands up in front of himself defensively. “Oh no no no. This can’t be happening. Snakes are my worst fear!”

You cuddle Caramel gently, who flicks her tongue out placidly. “I know it’s a shock but once you get to meet them, you’ll see they’re harmless. Please, give them a chance for me?”

But Charles and Max only continue to edge away, staring at Caramel like she might lunge at them.

“I can’t do this. I can’t live with snakes,” Max chokes out before bolting back to the elevator.

Charles gives you a desperate, apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. We ... we need some time to process this.” He turns and races after Max, pressing the button to close the elevator doors repeatedly.

You stand there, shoulders slumping as you hold Caramel’s habitat close. Your eyes well up with tears. You’ve just moved in with the men you love more than anything and they can’t even stand to be near the pets that you consider your children.

Sniffling, you gently set Caramel’s habitat back in the car next to Cookie and Basil.

“It’s going to be ok,” you whisper to them, wiping your eyes. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll give them some time and hopefully they’ll come around.”

But a sob escapes as you think about the apartment that was supposed to be your new loving home but now instead only feels cold and unwelcoming.

Taking a shuddering breath, you smooth down your hair and lift your chin. You just need to be patient. And maybe do some exposure therapy to help Max and Charles overcome their fear.

You have to believe everything will work out in the end. Because the alternative — either losing the men you love or having to give up your precious snakes — is unthinkable.

***

You sit on a park bench in the middle of Monaco, the sun warming your face. But even the beautiful weather can’t lift your mood. Your heart aches thinking about the disastrous attempt to move in with Max and Charles earlier.

The looks of horror on their faces when they saw your pet snakes are seared into your mind. You really believed they would accept all parts of you when they asked you to move in. Now you just feel silly for ever thinking this could work.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you gaze down at the snake habitats next to you where your precious babies Caramel, Cookie, and Basil are curled up.

“I’m so sorry, my loves,” you whisper to them. “This is all my fault.”

The snakes flick their tongues out softly as if to comfort you. You manage a small, sad smile. At least you still have your scaly companions, even if your dream of living with your boyfriends has been shattered as painfully as possible.

You’re so lost in melancholy thoughts that you don’t notice two familiar figures approaching until they’re right in front of you.

“There you are,” Max says, slightly out of breath. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You look up with reddened eyes to see Max and Charles gazing down at you remorsefully. Charles holds a small cooler in his hands.

“What do you want?” You ask warily, shifting to try to shield your snakes from view.

Max winces at your defensive tone. “We want to apologize. We’re so sorry for overreacting earlier. It was just ... a huge shock.”

Charles nods earnestly. “We feel awful for upsetting you and the snakes. We want to make things right.”

He sets the cooler down and opens it, pulling out three frozen mice. Your snakes perk up at the sight of their favorite snack.

“We brought peace offerings,” Charles says with an anxious but hopeful smile. “We want to get to know Caramel, Cookie, and Basil. Will you please give us another chance?”

You bite your lip, torn between cautious optimism and lingering hurt.

Max kneels down beside you, taking your hand in his. “We were idiots. We should have handled it better. But the thought of losing you is unbearable. We don’t want to live without you.”

Charles sits on your other side, squeezing your shoulder. “We’ll learn to love your snakes because they’re yours. Please come home and give us a chance to make things right.”

His pleading green eyes and Max’s gentle blue ones melt your resolve.

Finally you nod, a tiny smile breaking through. “Okay. I’m willing to try again if you are.”

Their faces light up with relief. Charles eagerly grabs Cookie’s habitat as Max reaches for Caramel.

“Let the snake exposure therapy begin!” Max declares. They settle the habitats carefully on their laps.

You let out a soft laugh as they lean in curiously. Caramel and Cookie slowly slither closer, flicking their tongues as they examine Max and Charles.

Charles yelps as Cookie boops her nose against the glass right in front of his face. Max laughs, though he looks nervous having Caramel so close.

You scoot over next to Max, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead, you can touch her. Gentle strokes along her back.”

Max gulps but tentatively reaches out, lightly petting Caramel’s head. His eyes widen in surprise. “Wow, she’s so smooth and soft!”

Charles gains courage from Max’s bravery and mimics him, stroking Cookie’s back. A small grin starts to spread across his face. “This is actually kind of nice!”

You beam proudly. “See, I told you they’re sweethearts.”

The boys relax as they grow more comfortable petting the snakes. All the tension from earlier fades away.

“We really are so sorry,” Max says, lifting your hand to his lips for a kiss. “No more overreacting. From now on, we promise to embrace all of you — even the scaly parts.”

Charles leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Please come home. It’s not home without you.”

Your throat tightens with emotion. You throw your arms around them in a big hug, snakes and all.

“Let’s go home,” you whisper.

***

Max clutches the steering wheel, brow furrowed in concentration as he races on his simulator. The wheels start to skid and he fights to keep control of the virtual car.

“Nice save,” his teammate Gianni says over the headset.

Max grins, glancing at the livestream camera filming him. “Just warming up the tires, mate.”

As he comes out of the chicane, he feels something brush his ankle. Probably one of the cats pestering him while he’s trying to drive.

“Not now, Sassy,” he murmurs, downshifting to take on the next corner.

But then Max feels smooth scales glide across his foot.

He yelps, hitting the brakes reflexively. The car spins out, the livestream immortalizing every second of his shocked expression.

“You okay?” Gianni asks, oblivious to the cause of Max’s surprise.

Max looks down to see Caramel curling happily around his simulator pedals. She must have escaped her habitat … again.

“Uh yeah, I just had a little visit from one of Y/N’s snakes,” Max says with a breathless laugh. “Nearly gave me a heart attack but I’m alright.”

He hears Gianni cracking up through the headset. “Oh man, I forgot you guys took in those snakes too! They just slither around while you’re racing huh? That’s wild.”

Max carefully picks up Caramel, her smooth scales sliding over his hands. She flicks her tongue out innocently.

“Clever girl, sneaking in here while I was focused on driving,” Max coos, unable to be mad at her. He makes sure the livestream audience gets a good view. “Say hi to the fans, Cara!”

The live chat fills with snake emojis and laughs. Gianni fake-shudders through the headset. “You’re a braver man than me, letting those things just wander around. No thanks!”

Max grins, gently stroking Caramel’s head. “They’re not so bad once you get to know them. Just gotta respect their space. Right, sweetie?”

Caramel bobs her head as if in agreement. The live chat melts over how cute she is.

“If you say so,” Gianni says. “Now put the danger noodle away and let’s get back to racing!”

“She’s not a danger noodle, she’s a sweetheart,” Max protests with a laugh. But he dutifully returns Caramel to her habitat before hopping back in the simulator.

Later that day, you come home from work to find Max laughing at the snippets of his stream that fans have shared online.

“I had a special guest appearance from one of our scaly housemates today,” he says, pulling you down onto his lap to show you the clip of Caramel surprising him mid-race.

You laugh, “She just hates being cooped up.”

“Clearly,” Max says wryly. But his eyes are soft as he gazes at you. “You were right though — they are growing on me. Never thought I would say that about snakes but here we are.”

He kisses you sweetly. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over his stubble as you feel your heart swell to triple its size.

“I’m really proud of you. And Caramel definitely got your stream some extra views today!” You tease.

Max groans. “I’ve gone soft! But I guess for you and our unconventional little family, I can make an exception.”

You snuggle into his chest, perfectly content. Having supportive partners who cherish both you and your scaly babies makes all the difference. And you have to admit, seeing your tough boyfriend coo over Caramel was pretty darn cute.

***

Race day morning in Monaco is always a whirlwind. You kiss Charles and Max goodbye as they rush out the door to head to the circuit, matching Louis Vuitton backpacks slung over their shoulders. Little do any of you know, a small scaly stowaway has curled up inside of one.

In the Ferrari motorhome, Charles is changing into his race suit when he hears startled shouts from some mechanics. He turns to see Cookie, peeking her head out of his backpack, flicking her tongue as she takes in the unfamiliar location.

“Cookie! What are you doing here?” Charles asks with a laugh. The mechanics back away nervously.

Charles gently picks her up. “It’s okay, she is perfectly harmless. This is one of my girlfriend’s pet snakes.”

Cookie wraps around Charles’ hand, seeking warmth. He smiles and strokes her scales.

“Well, I guess you’re the team mascot now,” he tells her. “Let’s find you a nice Ferrari bandana to wear.”

He ties the red fabric around Cookie, who seems quite pleased with her new accessory. Charles carefully sets her around his shoulders and heads out to the paddock.

As expected, the other drivers have mixed reactions to the surprise reptile visitor. Lewis grins and comes over to pet Cookie, happy to see a fellow animal lover. Meanwhile Lando takes one look and speed-walks in the opposite direction.

“If Roscoe can attend races then so can snakes,” Charles argues when there are murmurs about animals not being allowed in the pit lane. He scratches under Cookie’s chin proudly. “Right, ma belle?”

When Max arrives for the drivers parade, he bursts out laughing at the sight of Cookie draped around Charles’ neck.

“Y/N will get a kick out of this,” he says, giving the snake a little chin rub. “But I can’t let you outdo me!”

He quickly ties a Red Bull bracelet around Cookie, perfectly sized to be a snake necklace. “There, now she can root for both of us!”

You’re watching the broadcast in hospitality when the camera pans to show Charles, Cookie curled contentedly around his shoulders.

Your jaw drops.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim with a laugh. But your heart melts seeing Charles parade her around like a princely scarf. And her new accessories are just too cute.

In the end, Cookie seems to bring Charles good luck. He takes the chequered flag and snags his first home victory, the curious snake cheering him on the whole time from where she’s cozily curled up in your lap.

On the podium, Charles grins up at the cameras with Cookie snaking her way to wrap around his cap. “We make a great team!” He proclaims, holding up the little snake like she’s Simba in the Lion King.

The crowd laughs and applauds. You watch with delight, shaking your head at this ridiculous man and his new snaky sidekick.

Later, back home after a long night of jumping from club to club, you lavish both Charles and Cookie with praise and kisses.

“I can’t believe our girl got to be part of your special l day!” You cuddle her close. “She must have loved all the excitement.”

Charles grins and slides his arms around your waist. “It was meant to be. She’s my new Monaco Grand Prix lucky charm!”

Cookie bobs her head happily. She’s clearly enjoyed her big day out.

You laugh as Charles spins you around the living room in an impromptu victory dance while Max records the two of you with a proud smile. Having supportive partners who not only accept but celebrate all aspects of you — even the reptilian ones — is a dream come true.

This really is the perfect unconventional family.

***

Sunlight streams through the curtains, rousing you from sleep. You stretch languidly, sandwiched between Max and Charles’ warm bodies. What a perfect way to wake up.

Charles nuzzles into your neck, planting soft kisses along the stretch of skin. “Good morning, mon amour.”

You hum happily, tilting your head to capture his lips in a kiss. His hand trails down your side, fingers dancing over your hip.

On your other side, Max presses up against you, his muscular frame molded to yours. His nose grazes your jaw as his lips find your shoulder.

You sigh blissfully at the sensation of being cradled between them. Their hands wander reverently across your body as they pepper you with kisses.

Then you feel something long and firm nudge against your thigh under the sheets. You smirk, assuming one of them is getting frisky.

“Is that a banana or are you just happy to see me?” You tease.

Max and Charles exchange confused looks over you.

You frown and reach down to grab whatever is poking you ... and feel familiar dry scales. Your eyes go wide.

Throwing back the sheets reveals Basil curled up happily on your leg.

“Basil!” You exclaim as Max and Charles shriek in surprise.

Basil just flicks his tongue out, pleased as can be to have found such a cozy sleeping spot.

You fall back against the pillows laughing while Max and Charles look on with wide eyes.

“So much for a romantic morning in bed,” Max grumbles. But his smile tells you that he’s not truly mad.

Charles runs a hand through his rumpled hair, grinning ruefully. “We really need to snake-proof the apartment.”

You scoop up Basil, giving him a gentle scolding. “What are we going to do with you, silly boy? You just love snuggling, don’t you?”

Basil bobs his head unrepentantly. Max shakes his head and comes over to scratch under his chin.

“Oh you little snake. Gave us quite the surprise!”

Charles joins you both, reaching out tentatively to pet Basil. “I have to admit, the look on your face was pretty priceless, mon ange.”

You swat his shoulder but let him pull you into his lap. Basil winds happily around your wrists as you kiss.

Max presses up behind you, hands wandering your body as he nuzzles into your hair.

“Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” He murmurs.

You laugh as they topple you backwards onto the pillows, peppering you with kisses. Basil slithers away happily and you lose yourself in your lovers’ embrace.

Later, basking in the afterglow, you glance over to see Cookie and Caramel have joined Basil in exploring the room. You really do need to snake-proof better.

But as Max pulls you against his chest and Charles winds his arms around your waist from behind, you can’t find it in you to care right now.

“Our lives may be crazy with these snakes,” Max presses his lips to your temple, “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Charles hums in agreement, dotting kisses on your shoulder. You cover their hands with your own, heart overflowing with love.

Is your little family unconventional? Yes. Chaotic? Absolutely. But also wonderfully, perfectly yours.

[zapreportsblog]

The Comfort of Imaginary Arms

➥ summary: Earth42!Miles misses his girlfriend so much he decides to sleep with his body pillow imagining that it’s her, but she won’t allow that

➥ one shot

The moon cast a soft glow through the window, gently illuminating Miles Morales' room as he lay in bed. Restlessness filled his mind, his thoughts consumed by memories of (Y/n), the person who had captured his heart. Though they were physically apart, the bond they shared remained strong, and the ache of longing for their presence grew more intense with each passing night.

Unable to find solace in sleep, Miles reached for the body pillow tucked beside him, a makeshift companion he had fashioned to provide comfort in (Y/n)'s absence. He hugged it tightly, the soft fabric against his cheek an imperfect substitute for the warmth of their touch.

Closing his eyes, Miles allowed his imagination to take hold. In his mind's eye, he pictured (Y/n) lying beside him, their laughter filling the room, and their fingers intertwined. He could almost feel the weight of their head on his shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of their breath against his skin.

As he clung to the body pillow, Miles whispered softly into the night, "I miss you, (Y/n). I wish you were here with me."

In the quiet darkness, memories flooded his mind—moments shared, conversations whispered in hushed tones, and the connection they had forged. He longed for those stolen glances, the way (Y/n)'s eyes would light up in his presence, and the laughter that filled the spaces between their words.

Miles traced his fingers along the contours of the body pillow, imagining that it was (Y/n)'s hand he held. He closed his eyes, his mind painting vivid pictures of stolen kisses, tender embraces, and the warmth of their love enveloping them both.

The silence of the night allowed his thoughts to wander freely, carrying him to cherished memories of their time together. Each memory was etched into his heart, a testament to the love they had shared. The pillow, now a vessel for his longing, provided a bittersweet comfort—a reminder of the depth of his emotions.

As the night wore on, Miles found solace in the intimacy of his imaginary embrace. It was a connection that transcended the physical realm, reaching deep into his soul. Though separated by distance, he held on to the hope that their love would bridge the gap and bring them back together.

With the gentle rhythm of his breath and the warmth of the body pillow against his chest, Miles allowed himself to drift into a fitful slumber. In his dreams, he walked hand in hand with (Y/n), their laughter echoing in the air, and their love radiating from every pore.

But even in his dreams, there was a lingering ache—an awareness that his imaginary embrace could never fully replace the tangible presence of (Y/n). He longed for the day when their arms would intertwine once more, when he could feel their heartbeat against his chest and whisper words of love into their ear.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the city as (Y/n) stealthily made her way through the shadows. She moved with the grace and agility of a spider, her movements purposeful and silent. The wind whispered through the streets, carrying with it a sense of anticipation.

Tonight, (Y/n) had made a decision—a decision that defied the boundaries of distance and longing. She couldn't bear to spend another night away from Miles, her heart aching with the need to be near him. So, she had taken a leap of faith, climbing through his window to surprise him.

As she silently slipped into Miles' room, her eyes fell upon the sight that made her heart flutter with both tenderness and sadness. There he lay, wrapped in the embrace of a body pillow—a makeshift companion that served as a surrogate for her absence. (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a twinge of longing, realizing just how much she had been missed.

Determined to make her presence known, (Y/n) gently slipped the body pillow out of Miles' arms. As she did, he stirred, his eyelids fluttering open in confusion. He blinked, his drowsy gaze meeting hers, his voice caught in his throat as he tried to form words.

"What—" Miles began, his voice a soft murmur.

But before he could complete his sentence, (Y/n) placed a finger on his lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. "Shh," she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. "Go back to sleep, baby."

Miles blinked, his mind momentarily overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions and the unexpected sight of (Y/n) standing before him. He couldn't help but feel a mixture of surprise, joy, and confusion. But as he looked into her eyes, the longing in his heart subsided, replaced by a deep sense of contentment.

Unable to resist the allure of her presence, Miles settled back into his pillow, his eyes never leaving (Y/n)'s form. The room filled with a comforting silence as he watched her climb into his bed, her movements graceful and unhurried. She settled herself into his waiting arms, her head resting against his chest, their heartbeats aligning in a rhythm of connection.

The warmth of (Y/n)'s body against his, the softness of her breath against his skin—it was a moment of sheer bliss. Miles wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, as if afraid that she would vanish if he let go. In the safety of his embrace, (Y/n) felt a sense of belonging—a homecoming that filled the empty spaces within her soul.

As they lay together, their breathing synchronized, Miles couldn't help but whisper, "I missed you so much, ma.”

(Y/n) lifted her head, her eyes meeting his, a tender smile on her lips. "I missed you too, Miles. But I'm here now, and that's all that matters. Just let go and rest. We have all the time in the world."

Miles nodded, the weight of his weariness settling upon him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped in the comfort of (Y/n)'s presence. Her words washed over him, soothing his restless mind, as he succumbed to the embrace of slumber once again.

Wrapped in each other's arms, (Y/n) and Miles drifted into a peaceful sleep—a shared dream that transcended the limitations of their physical bodies. In the realm of dreams, they found solace and the promise of a tomorrow filled with togetherness.

And as the night unfolded, the moon whispered its blessings upon the lovers, casting its gentle light upon their entwined forms. It was a testament to the power of love—a force that defied distance, embraced vulnerability, and forged unbreakable bonds.

In each other's arms, Miles and (Y/n) found solace and a home—a sanctuary that welcomed them with open arms. And together, they would continue to navigate the intricate web of their lives, their love serving as a guiding thread, leading them towards a future where their dreams would become their reality.

[cheralith]

the ghost of you | miguel o'hara

synopsis: you thought he was gone. what you didn't know was that he was waiting for you a universe away... or in other words... miguel is your gwen stacy and in another life, you're his.

word count: 2.5k (unedited as of 07/19 per usual)

a/n: a short (or at least in my terms is short) oneshot of sorts just to scratch that miguel angst itch

you never particularly believed in second chances.

you thought they were something foolish to believe in. often you think that second chances alternated the future that bewitched you with its cruelty towards you, despite knowing that this was what was to become the moment you put on that suit that gleamed to others of pride and glory.

fate as an embodiment is never, and will never, be kind towards you. you never believed in second chances because they were never offered to you because if they were, you could've prevented the entirety that was your life if you could've just chosen a different path.

you could've never gotten the job at alchemax.

you could've never been one of the star scientists that captured the attention of tyler stone.

you could've never met him—the love of your life.

because if you didn't, he would've been safe in the blissful ignorance that was your existence. but now, the haunting image of his face laying woefully in your lap—loving eyes now permanently close, the shallow river of crimson streaming from his nose with pale and dry lips that could no longer whisper sweet nothings slightly agape—is now permanently tattooed in the halls of your memory.

the failure to save the one person you kept to closely at heart served as a reminder that you had a duty to attend to and that you were to attend to it with nothing more than confidence, that you were to never repeat such a feat ever again.

because death offers no second chances to those who he greets. second chances are mere child's play, a figure of imagination that people choose to believe out of hope.

at least, that's what you've chosen to believe.

whenever jessica looks at you, you just barely manage to catch the glimpse of a particular look that you can't pinpoint the exact emotion of. you think it's a mixture of melancholy or apprehensiveness, but you're never able to quite accurately describe the look for it. but it goes away just as fast as it comes, her quickly shooing it away as if it was a pesky spider.

you've never inquired about it. you don't think you should, really, especially considering when she's in charge of possibility escorting you to what you've never known you could desire for.

"i've decided," jess states, a hand going to caress her prominent belly affectionately.

you let out a hum, your gaze not moving from the magnificent view you and her share of your universe's new york's skyline—you wonder how it differs from her own new york. "decided what?"

from her amber glasses, she offers you swift glance. "decided to perhaps let you visit hq once and for all."

it's no surprise that her statement makes your eyes go wide and jaw slack. jessica drew had found you alone in your own universe awhile ago, her being the first proven evidence that there were worlds beyond yours existing... meaning that there was existence of different variants of you. acquiring that knowledge had sparked an excitement in you that you hadn't felt in such a long time, that you didn't even know you could feel.

you wanted to see the other spider-people, a hunger caverning itself within you to know more, see more, to satisfy the loneliness you've felt since the dreaded day you lost miguel o'hara. to know that others likeminded to you actually existed was something you longed to confirm, leading to jessica constantly putting up with your begging to see what the headquarters of the so-called "spider society" was like.

you've met a few already—the rebellious, yet ambitious hobie brown from earth-138, the egotistic, yet grandiloquent ben reilly from earth-94, and the sarcastic, yet compassionate peter b. parker from earth-616. but it isn't enough. a yearn to see all of everyone alike to you grows stronger and stronger by the day, yet jessica is always quick to deny you from seeing hq and the rest of the spider-people, quick to excuse it with her needing to “evaluate you more.”

something about the excuse seemed rather loose to you, as if it was a cover-up for something... bigger? but again, you never questioned her actions because if you did, you could end up screwing yourself over and the possibility of you never joining them was perhaps a pit that welcomed you with open arms.

but now, after what seemed like ages (it was a given three weeks in reality) of consistent "no"'s and "soon"'s, your wish has been finally granted.

"do you mean it?" you whisper excitedly, leaning towards her with a gleeful smile. "like, really mean it?!"

"no, actually i was just joking," jess says with a suppressed grin. you whine aloud with furrowed brows, making her laugh aloud. "i'm kidding. yes, i mean it. i talked with my... my superior of sorts... and they granted me permission to let you into the spider-society."

jess watches with a soft grin as you giddily bounce about the twilight-cladded rooftop, the phrase of "thank you" endlessly on loop from your lips. with no time to waste on either ends, jessica opens up a portal leading to the universe that the spider-society was held in, jutting her head towards it for you to step foot in.

the tantalizing colors of a fiery sunset twirl about in your vision as the hum of the portal whispers itself in your ears. you've gone in portals before, but this particular one forces you to ground yourself and truly acknowledge what was to become of this present moment because the moment you enter this portal, your fate was sealed.

and fate gives no second chances regardless of any situation.

"nervous?" jess asks as she stands still besides you, examining your hypnotized state.

you swallow thickly, despite the smile still lifted atop your lips. "a little..."

"i see," she hums. she studies your features for a bit, admiring the way the sun halos your side profile before her gaze returns to the portal that you still stare at.

jessica suppresses a giggle, with her hand lifting slowly behind you without acknowledgement before it pushes you in with no warning. your screams of terror fall deaf on her ears, her being too busy with a soft fit of laughter at your bewilderment.

"jess!?" you shout from inside the portal.

"sorry, my hand slipped," she calls from the outside, mindlessly examining her fingernails.

"i'm gonna kill you!" you screech before your figure dissipates itself from her view.

jessica watches as the portal expands itself again like a blooming flower before she turns away from it once again, the smile of amusement fading ever so quickly. her wrist lifts itself up and quietly she murmurs into her device, "are you one hundred percent sure about this?"

there's a static that scuffs by before another voice stereos from it, one that jessica knows for a fact that you'll be much too accustomed to.

"there's no going back now."

jessica thinks she might have to put you on a leash. somehow, you've reverted back into a child at a playground from the way you're consistently getting out of her sight, too distracted by all the unique spider-people that pass you.

"i love your armor," you compliment with glowing cheeks to the spider-knight that gives you a salute. "wow, her hair is really cool... i love that guy's webbing! holy shit, is that a fucking t-rex?"

"yes yes," jess sighs and grabs you by your collar, "that's pter. he's one of us, now would you please behave?"

you smile sheepishly at her, "sorry... i can't help but get—a cat!"

jessica slaps a hand to her forehead, rubbing it with annoyance. you're not much younger than she is, but she thinks that there's too much of a resemblance between a five year old and the you that's much too preoccupied petting a content peter pawrker that purrs as you affectionately scratch behind his ears.

while rather a little irked, jessica can't help but feel a little at ease with the more time that gets eaten up as it passes by. she knows it's foolish, but to put off the one thing that you were supposed to come here for was perhaps ideal, knowing that the future truly remains unknown of what to come in the next few minutes.

her anticipation grows more weary by the second, especially as you and her approach the one location that is rarely ever allowed visitors.

she shoots a web and reels you back to her, not wanting to waste any more time than needed. your pleas of wanting to pet spider-cat more are ignored, being replaced with an urgency of, "there's someone i want you to meet."

jess walks you to a darkened and closed off area of the headquarters, one that you didn't know would've existed had she not lead you there. it's dark all around, the wide and vast space only illuminated by the golden glow of holographic computers atop a floating platform. there's no one around, just the hum of the technology filling the void until a voice echoes out from seemingly nowhere.

"you may leave, jess."

your companion offers you a final goodbye, a whisper of "you'll be okay, he doesn't bite." tickling your ear. there's not much time to react, as jessica stalks off faster than you can blink, and the thundering shut of the door bellows in the corridor.

you're left alone in the odd, dark room. it's a contrasted atmosphere to the interior of hq and rather, it unsettles you—especially considering the fact that despite it seeming like you're by yourself, you're not alone.

"are you the person that jess was talking about?" you ask quietly, hoping that despite the timidity and softness of your voice, that it's still heard.

the voice thunders out again hauntingly.

"you haven't changed."

the majority of your voice gets caught in your throat. something about that voice seems vaguely familiar, but seven words aren't enough for you to quite decipher its owner, despite the wisp of the ghost of the past whispering something unintelligible behind you.

"i-i'm sorry?" you state aloud with your voice caught between a question and a nervous laugh.

the owner of the voice stays quiet for a still moment before speaking once more.

"why are you still just as beautiful as the day i lost you?"

your brows furrow. are you supposed to know him? this person?

you're so focused on the platform of computers that it doesn't register to you that someone emerges from the shadows from behind you until the wind of something... someone grazing you. reflexes jumping into action, you gasp and jump back, your feet skidding themselves on the ground too painfully to the point where your balance is lost and your back stumbles first on the ground.

the shadow comes closer to you and fear strikes itself in your heart at last. something about this person is warning you with danger, that something bad is brewing. your hands dig into the ground and shuffle yourself backwards until you hit the wall. your heart is pounding painfully loud, with the rhythm of it pumping through your ears. a scream is begging to be let out of your throat, a certain type of terrified you haven't felt in years clawing at the edge of it, but the only thing that you can let out is a weakened whimper.

whoever the shadow is merely comes closer to you in the same pace he kept himself at, showing no signs of stopping.

the light of the moon that seeps into the rooftop windows suddenly let the light in and spotlights the person at last, making all the resolve in your body evaporate the moment you catch his face.

the face that's supposed to not exist anymore—the face of a dead lover who you watched with your own two eyes slip from your life—is currently plastered itself in front of you.

the face of miguel o'hara stares at you with the same daunting expression you wear.

the last time you saw this face was in the open casket funeral held for him two weeks after his death. you had stared at it for what seemed to be hours in the open rain, trying to come to terms that you will never see it again.

yet here you are, looking at it once more in the life that you thought would never show you any sort of mercy.

"miguel...?"

the person in front of you crouches down to your height and comes shyly closer to you, afraid that if he made the wrong move, you'd scamper away from him like a frightened doe.

unconsciously, you lift your hand up to truly see if what you were seeing right now was real—that your deceased lover was somehow alive right in front of you. the miguel that stands before you lets your hand cradle his cheek ever so gently, like he was made of the finest glass alive. the physical contact jolts you awake again and out of your trance, making you retract your hand as if you had just touched something hot.

miguel blinks. his chest heaves, mimicking your own that pools with longing. he goes to gently touch your hand again, bringing it back up to his face and shuffling his cheek to feel the warmth of it again.

the way his his face fits so nicely in your palm makes your chest burn.

"mi sol..." he murmurs, his lips wisping a soft kiss to your palm.

and suddenly, you're alive again. it's a different sort, the type of liveliness that only love could spark. so when you realize that the very flame you thought could never be lit again is once burning bright, you break into sobs.

your arms wrap around his neck tightly, like he'll be taken away from you all over again. his own go to hug your waist in the same manner, enveloping you in a warmth you could never seem to mimic with anyone else.

"i thought i lost you," you cry quietly, the image of miguel's face during that night flashing through your eyes.

his hand caresses your hair warmly. "i thought i lost you," he murmurs back, his throat evidently tight with a flood of yearning emotions.

you retract back and study him carefully this time, making sure he's here with you right now... alive.

and when his lips connect with yours for the first time in years, it doesn't take long for you to return the favor, knowing that the one thing you've longed for the most for the past years is finally back into your arms.

deep inside, you know he isn't your miguel, just in the same sense that you aren't his (y/n). you know that no matter how many miguels and (y/n)s are out there, no two could ever replicate each other in the manner that the latter wants.

but for now, you let yourself indulge in this second chance you thought could never come to life.

by the power of fate though... it somehow did. and you'd rather not waste any more time questioning it.

[kaplerrr]

König saves the day

Warning: based on a true story (based on two true stories actually), I am terrified of spiders and so is the reader in this one, König saves the day and prevents me you from having a stroke, fluff, König's your neighbour, first meeting??? Sort of ?? and you're referred as "small"

I need to vent because there was a f*cking spider in my room but no König to help me 😔😔😔

König was laying on the couch as he lazily scrolled through his phone. On his left was a glass of a warm beverage that was waiting to be drank, the weather was cloudy and windy and he was feeling at peace. A peace he rarely felt before. He sighed happily, turned off his phone and let his hand rest on his chest. He closed his eyes, the simpleness and the calmeness of his flat that he has missed so much for months were magically soothing his body, lifting an invisible weight off his shoulders. He felt himself dozing off, when-

Knock knock

A knock, so quiet he thought he had imagined it. He jumped on his feet, walking to the hall, looking the door as if it did something wrong.

Knock Knock

He quickly grabbed a mask, covered the bottom half of his face and opened the door.

And he looked at you.

His small neighbour.

You were looking terribly embarrassed, your eyes going wide as you looked at him and tried to maintain eye contact. He rose an eyebrow, confused and slightly worried. He wouldn't call you a friend, you were polite, kind and respectful but you never had a true conversation together. And honestly with his job he wasn't surprised, he was absent more often than not and he really wasn't one to go out and get friendly with people. But you seemed like a kind person for sure. You were for now his stressed neighbour.

And it was stressing him.

"Can I... Help you ?" He asked, unsure of what to say as an awkward silence settled.

You cleared your throat and tried to explain the current situation "Yeah, hi, hmm... I'm sorry that is so embarrassing but-" you stopped, your cheeks burning in shame "I mean.. I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"theresaspiderinmylivingroomandicanthandlethosethings" you said quickly, hoping he would understand.

He blinked, trying to understand what you had just said "Eh.. I'm sorry I didn't catch that, a spider ?"

You grimaced and sighed, trying to calm down "There's... A spider in my living room. And, the thing is, I'm very bad at handling those things, I just can't, they're- they're terrifying and... I mean, if I'm not bothering you, could you... Could you please help me get rid of it? Please ?" You hide your face in your hands, mortified. You were a grown up, you weren't supposed to bother other grown you barely knew up because of your fears.

König felt himself relax again and he wanted to sigh in relief that it was nothing dangerous but hold it back as he thought you might interpret this the wrong way.

Instead he smiled, eyes crinkling and nodded.

"Ja, of course, don't worry about it !" And just like that he stepped out of his flat, following you to yours.

___

As he saw how hesitant you were to enter your own flat, he suggested you to stay out for a minute so he could quickly eliminate the spider and bring you peace. You vividly agreed, thanking him profusely.

The spider was... Small. (no, you're just too tall konig) He didn't know what kind of spider he was expecting but now at least he understood how phobic you were. "I'm sorry little guy, nothing personal." He said before getting the job done.

___

"Thank you so much ! It means a lot, you prevented me from moving to a new place." you said only half joking, eyeing your walls fear running through your veins at the very idea of another spider intruding your home.

König noticed the quick glances you were giving to walls. "Do you want me to check the other rooms to make sure that no spider remains?" He asked kindly.

You paused for a moment. You wanted to say yes so bad, you were being paranoid about those spiders. But you didn't want to push your luck, your neighbour has done so much already you didn't want to overstep.

As you were gathering strength to refuse politely, you looked into his eyes. Beautiful baby blue eyes shining with kindness. He wasn't judging you and you wanted to believe that he wasn't asking that just out of politeness.

Your strength disappeared as quickly as it appeared and you sighed sheepishly "if it doesn't bother you, I would really appreciate that."

As soon as you said that, he disappeared, checking thoroughly each room. When he was satisfied, he came back, two thumbs up "your flat is spider free." He chuckled softly.

Your laugh was nervous even if you were feeling a little more at ease "I really don't know how to thank you enough for what you did" you smiled. Then your eyes widened "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name !" You quickly extended your arms, telling him your name, feeling silly for not asking that earlier.

"I haven't really thought about it either, so don't worry, we're even. I'm König" he said shaking your hand.

"Well, nice to meet you König." You beamed. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to thank you ? We can grab coffee sometime. Like tomorrow or Friday ? If you're fine with it, of course !" You cringed at your failed attempt of gratefulness that sounded more like a very bad flirting line.

König blushed but couldn't help laughing slightly, eyes so beautifully expressive.

"A coffee sounds great ! Friday's perfect."

_________

It's 2am, i should be sleeping, but here I am instead 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

[madwomansapologist]

Autumn Thunderstorm | Chapter 1 - A way to break the ice

Navigation | Series Masterlist | AO3

series synopsis: Thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attencion. If he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the Elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see her sooner. Or: how Gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

first chapter synopsis: Thranduil traveled to a village that reported spider attacks with his army to protect those who need it, and accepted when a respected family offered their inn so his army could rest. He didn't expect to find a mage there. Or for the dam to break. [3K]

warnings: female!reader. lotr kinda of violence. pre-Smaug.

glossary: Lossëistar: Ice Mage┆Mithrandir: Grey Pilgrim┆

Gandalf is a recurring face in the inn. In some months he appears twice, mostly by the end of the year when he does not have anything else to do, but he never goes more than a month without coming back. Even if he can stay only for a day or two, he always comes back.

Gandalf has been to so many places. Met so many people. Lived so many adventures. So why does he keep coming back? It is just a normal village filled with normal people living normal lives. A good place to live, but not the kind of place people want to visit.

"I will see you next month?" Helping him saddle the sorrel, you waited for the obvious answer. Goodbyes were never your forte. Hearing more, even if it is something you have heard before, is better than being silent for the whole time. You miss him already.

You led the horse out of the inn's stable, petting it. The cool breeze made your hair fly, autumn has begun to announce itself. The sorrel tried to run away, but you held him in place.

"There is someone I need to visit, a master who needs advice", he said. You know that tone of voice. Gandalf uses it whenever you do something stupid. Something as often as his presence at the inn. Someone is about to hear a stern lecture, and you are so relieved it is not you.

"Good luck to the poor person you will pay a visit," you say as he mounts the sorrel. Part of you is still surprised that someone so old would be able to ride a horse so easily, but looks can be deceiving. Gandalf is older than he looks, as well as more skilled.

Gandalf appreciated the river that cuts through the property, focusing on the sound of water lapping against rocks. It was one of the reasons for the inn to be so popular. The water was so calm there, higher on the mountain and away from the village. So crystalline. Gandalf could see the high wooden dam, ensuring the river would not run to the waterfall miles ahead crash against the village.

A familiar fear gripped your body. He always comes back, but you are always afraid that one day he will realize this is a waste of his time. And if one day he decides not to come back, you will be alone. "You will not forget about me, will you?"

Awakened by your voice, Gandalf faced you. His voice went softer. "Continuing to ask will not change the answer."

"But why do you keep coming back?" The sorrel stirred. You had to take a step back, and you could feel that Gandalf would use that to move away without answering. "You really do not know what happened to me before my awakening? Why do you keep on visiting me? Helping me?"

"Continuing to ask will not change the answer." Gandalf led the horse away. And so he goes, without giving you a proper explanation. As always. "Farewell, persistent girl, and do not cause troubles."

"I cannot promise you anything," you waved. Gandalf sighed, knowing you were honest just as much as he was not. "Good riddance, Gandalf!"

He disappeared into the ash trees, taking some of your fear with him. You took a deep breath and remembered that you had a lot to do. Aerin is a kind landlady, but she made clear your stay would not be paid with grateful smiles and friendly words.

"Breakfast!" You served each horse a mixture of fresh grass, hay and silage. With all of them distracted, you could prepare a new bedding for them. "Good morning, beauties."

Gandalf is always traveling, you never have an address to send letters. He usually sends you a letter a week, not that you have a way to respond him. But inside the stable, surrounded by horses in needed of your attention, work managed to override your concern. Everything would be fine. Everything always turns out fine.

So why does you feel like something bad will happen?

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Elrond called the Council.

Hundred years of peace. The enemy was dead. Sauron was dead. Such a long time most could forget about the danger, but something had awakened in Rivendell. Something dark and hungry. Something that none could ignore. Evil things did not come into that valley, but maybe something was born there.

"That is not enough to think something is happening", Saruman explained. Sitting in his armchair, Saruman's pearly tunic appeared to be floating as he moved his hand. "Orcs and spiders? Not enough."

Galadriel countered the room. Her white gown gleamed at every step, almost hurting the eyes of those who dared to look direct at it. The temptation to look at her was bigger than the discomfort.

"It would not." Galadriel whispered. "But we are not talking about occasional attacks. It is strategical. They are hunting something. Something south of Rivendell."

Gandalf glared at the wizard. He grabbed his staff, holding it closer to him. That subject was not on a good path. Not a good path for them both.

The Istari came in five. Not that anyone but Elrond, Cirdan and Galadriel knew what they really are. The rest of the world sees them as inopportune pilgrims, but they are so much more than that.

Saruman the White, a Maia of Aulë, leader of the White Council. The enemy of Sauron. The one who advices great lords, who is responsible for the biggest events, present whenever a important choice needs to be made. When the War of the Ring starts, he will be the one fighting Sauron.

Gandalf the Grey, a Maia of Manwë and Varda. The one to defeat evil by the lives of commons. The wiser. When the War of the Ring starts, Gandalf will be with the soldiers and squires.

Radagast the Brow, a Maia of Yavanna. The protector of Nature and its life. The avenger of animals and plants. When the War of the Ring start, he will not interfere. Saruman does not speak to him ever since he made his decision.

And there are the two blues. The ones who only purpose is to defend humans. Different than Gandalf, they don't organize humans. Different than Saruman, they don't empower them. They are the protective layer that ensures Gandalf and Saruman will be able to do their responsabilities. It has been long since Gandalf spoke their names.

Saruman looked into his tired eyes, and Gandalf understood what he was saying: "Do not".

Elrond was bewitched by the landscape in front of him. He could see the river, the mountains, the infinity of the sky. And he felt it. A shadow that grows in the dark. Elrond is still not sure if it is that same old evil, but he knows it is powerful. "Sauron have..."

"Do not even start with this!" Saruman nodded. "Sauron is dead. He is done."

At one point while Saruman and Elrond discussed, Saruman's only argument being the death of Sauron and Elrond trying to use some logic to explain his fear, Gandalf heard a voice on his head. "What are you hiding from us, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf smiled at Galadriel. His white long beard almost covered it, but she saw it. "Nothing."

"We were not summoned to argue about the Enemy's existence," Thranduil rose from his chair. It would take a fool to not perceive how, even simple and identical to those of the other council members, it looked like a throne. Thranduil was a king, his presence lived up to his reputation. "We are here to put an end to these vermin."

"Finally someone with an agile mind", Saruman intonate.

Elrond sat down. "This horde keep reproducing. Until we find the nest, spiders will keep coming back."

"Then we already know what to do." Thranduil decided to put an end to that endless discussion. "My guar..."

The door was flung open, shaking the council room. A sweaty, breathless messenger leaned against it, shaking with exhaustion. His eyes met Elrond's, who immediately rose and approached. "We found another litter."

"Where?" Galadriel asked.

"Above the tributaries of the Bruinen River, in the gorge of the last dam."

"Wake up the intendant," Elrond ordered. "Tell him to prepare my armor."

Saruman swallowed hard. It would be too close. If Elrond ever had a chance to... He glared at Gandalf, hoping he could think of an excuse. Elrond would need a mere glance to recognize her.

"In a token of gratitude for your hospitality," Thranduil made his way near Elrond. He touched his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Kind words, but attention would show that pride lurked among them. "Let me defeat these insects for you."

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They rode in twenty. Led by the Elvenking, the little guard entered the mangrove with their golden armor lit by the midday sun. Protected from the rear by the Elvenking, the little guard came out of the mangrove with their bloody armor lit by the sunset.

Still twenty.

"Our mounts need to rest before our return", Gildor saddle his sorrel. One of Elrond's captains, he was the one that managed to map the nest and guided Thranduil and his guard to annihilate the spiders. "Just like your elk, your grace."

Thranduil caressed his brave elk. A longtime companion, that faced bigger threats than a nest of spiders. "We went through a village, did we not?"

"Yes, your grace", Gildor pointed to a trampled tail. "An inn favored by master Elrond would gladly welcome us, with comfort and food for us and our mounts. I took the liberty to send a letter to inform of our stay while we were organizing in Rivendell."

It was a long road. The trail ran along the mountain, climbing towards the setting sun. The sound of running water showed that they were arriving, but what really made them understand that the path had ended was the sound of chitchat. Coming out from amongs the trees, the Elvenking and his men were greeted by dozens of elves.

As the king descended from his elk, everyone bowed and thanked him for defeating the spiders. Leading the small crowd, a short, plump lady approached.

"Lady Aerin, the owner of the inn", Gildor whispered to Thranduil.

"I imagine it must have been a long and painful journey, your grace." Aerin used sweet words, but it was clear that she practiced it a few times. "All my employees shall respond to your orders, no matter what they are. I know my little inn is nothing compared to your castle, but I hope it brings you comfort."

It was obviously true, but it was modest to say that this was a small inn. It was an immense structure, perhaps six floors high, and the long stables were visible even from the entrance. Nothing compared to a castle, but it certainly was not small.

Aerin was kind, personally guiding the king to his chambers. While everyone bathed, supper was cooked and the horses tended. The sun had already set when they gathered.

"It's a very lovely inn", Thranduil tried to calm Aerin. Her nervousness was clear.

"Oh, your grace, that is very kind of you." The old lady smiled, now focusing on her food. The lull was marvelous, but it didn't last long. This time, Aerin was trying to whisper to her son. "Why is she taking so long? I am starting to worry."

Gildor took a sip from his wine. "You talk about the Lossëistar?"

Aerin was surprised he could hear her. After all, she was so subtle. "She was supposed to be back by now. It is a long way to the fair, but not that long."

"Lossëistar?" Thranduil was interested. "An elve mage lives here?"

Aerin and Gildor glared at one another. Gildor was one that responded. "Not exactly an elve, not exactly a mage."

"Explain yourself."

Aerin sighed. "She... Look, I do not mean to gossip.” She looked around the room, and began to whisper. "We do not really know what she is. Not sure if she is a human, but an elve... she is not tall enough to be one."

Thranduil laughed at Aerin's honesty. "What is the cause of such confusion?"

The younger boy, Aerin's son, responded before his mom could. "She is weird. Gandalf worries about her."

"Beren!" Aerin scolded him. "Keep yourself silent!"

Thranduil's interest turned into something else. Gandalf is not exactly a friend, as he often delivers bad news and forget who is the ruler, but Thranduil is wiser to not underestimate him. Elrond and Galadriel care for him, and Thranduil respect their wit. If Gandalf has someone under his wing, he has his reasons. Thranduil wonders why.

Before he could ask more, the creak of the entrance door was heard. "Lady Aerin," a female voice echoed to the hall. It was melodic, Thranduil could sense the happiness. "You will not believe what I found!"

You entered the hall holding a basket full of fabrics, herbs and pots. "Close your eyes, it's a surprise." You were looking for something inside the basket as you walked towards the hall, not even noticing that it was not empty.

Thranduil hesitated.

Your dress was wrinkled and muddy, the marks of a long, busy day of walking. Your loose hair, falling around your shoulders, framed your face with a sense of freedom. The smile on your lips, so simple and true, carried such lightness. Your crooked steps, balancing your weight with the heavy basket in order not to fall, were lit by candles. There were violets in your eyes. They glowed. You glowed.

"Lossëistar", Aerin called. "We are not alone."

Your smiled died before you rose your face. Lossëistar. It is been more than a year, but she never called you by your name. Do not matter what you say, they never hear you. What is the reason to keep trying? But then you rose your face, and you disappointment turned into shame.

"Your grace", you bowed. "Pardon for the interruption."

Thranduil took a deep breath. He could smell the salty scent, a mixture of earth and herbs, emanating from you. A shiver rose the Elvenking's spine. "Apparently you are late."

"You were supposed to be here two hours ago", said Aerin. "Are you fine, kid?"

"The horse you borrowed me were not obedient." Your eyes alternated between Thranduils's and Aerin's. You may be a fool on a few subjects, but you always know when your presence is not expected. With another bow, you walked towards the entrance. "Have a good night."

"Supper with us." Thranduil did not controlled his own tongue. There was something about you that intrigued him. He repeated to himself that he was only trying to find out what interested Gandalf, but he was too clever to be so easily deceived.

"Your grace is so kind, but she does not need to", Aerin thought it was the right thing to say. "I will bring you a plate when we are done. Thank him, Lossëistar, for his generosity."

Thranduil's voice was heard again. Less graceful, less friendly. It was the voice of a leader, and a tired one. "What makes you think that an invitation to dinner and a cold dish are equivalent?"

Aerin blinked. "I am sorry, your grace. I thought..."

"Join us, lady", the Elvenking looked into your eyes.

Unsure of how to proceed, you followed in silence to the empty armchair at the end of the table. Next to Aerin's son, who was staring at you in a way you could not identify, one of the employees served you a plate. Gildor launched into a subject that made the tension in the air dissipate, but you could feel the weight of the Elvenking's gaze.

"The last time we saw each other", Gildor smiled at you. "You still did not knew how to ride."

You smiled at him, but discomfort gripped your body. You were too dirty, too tired, to sit across from a king. You must have reeked of mud and riding horses. How was your face? And your hair? He's very kind, kinder than the stories about Mirkwood elves, but it was humiliating.

"I am still learning." You tried to sound comfortable on your own skin. "I am not the best, but also not the worst."

"Certainly a stimulant way of thinking, Lossëistar."

"I am sure you have a name, my lady." Thranduil did not bother smiling.

"I... I do." You bit your tongue. "People just do not use it."

"So it is about time we change this."

A warmth took over your cheeks. You told him your name, and only then you noticed how long it been since you last heard it. It felt nice to have the Elvenking saying it, testing how it sounded on his tongue.

But everything was forgotten after the explosion. The guards got up, not sure what was going on, but you knew that sound. It was the sound of work. The sound of letters and more letters of complaint being ignored. The sound of the dozens of times the village had to rebuild. It was the sound of water. And it was near.

You drank the rest of your wine before getting up.

You ran out of the inn. As imagined, the dam had broken. The second time this month. "That is what happens when you keep solving it," you murmured to yourself. "They know you are going to fix everything so they do not even bother doing something."

Mist dominated the river bank. You took a deep breath and ran closer to the forest, as far away as possible. You took a bow out of your pocket and tied your hair in a tight knot. The last thing you needed was something clinging to your face. You heard the screams of some of the guards, but did not allowed that to distract you.

It raced down the gorge, skipping the bank and destroying everything in its path. You could hear the trees bending, you could feel the cold, hard wind burning your face. When the trees behind you shuddered, you knew you could start. So you ran towards the river.

You ran and ran and ran. You stopped walking on leaves to step on land, then from stepping on land to run over the river. You just ran, a thin layer of ice forming with each step, towards the pouring water. And when it was so close it could crush you, knock the air out of your lungs and claim it as its own, you reached out and touched the wave. And as quickly as it started, it ended. It ended with you standing in the middle of the river, with tons of frozen water in front of you, and a speechless Elvenking.

[Second Chapter]

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[futureslaps]

The Captive - Chapter 21

Chapter 20. Chapter 22

Sorry this took a bit longer to come out than usual. It would initially have gone up yesterday, but I wasn’t happy with it, so I basically rewrote 90% of it. Anyway, it’s here now, and I hope you like it!

Enjoy💙

Quaritch was outwardly calm as he felt Spider’s breathing slow in his arms, but anger was still burning inside him like a wildfire.

Seeing Spider in such a state, broken and scared out of his mind, endlessly pissed him off. It had taken him a good chunk of his willpower not to immediately demand that Spider tell him what had happened, then somehow break out and kick the nearest native’s ass.

Luckily, even as infuriated as he was, he’d known better. He’d figured out quiet a while ago that any attempt at a breakout would result in immediate death. If the guards were vigilant, they would probably cut him down before he even left the hut. Quaritch wasn’t about to get himself killed in a fit of rage. His time would be up in a few days anyway, so he wasn’t going to waste the time he had left.

He made an effort to calm himself down. He knew had to keep his head on his shoulders, at least while his son was here with him. Spider needed him to be here, calm, and present. Going berserk in front of the kid probably wouldn’t be very helpful. Quaritch tried to shift his mind onto something else to calm himself, but he couldn’t help gritting his teeth as the time passed.

The hut slowly began to illuminate as morning approached. Quaritch’s spirit sank a little when he realized he had to wake Spider already. His son couldn’t have been with him much more than an hour since he’d arrived so late in the night.

He was almost tempted to let Spider keep sleeping. Let Sully find them together, a big fuck you to the man. But he had to put his pride aside. Spider was already hurting now, and Quaritch didn’t want to imagine what would happen to his boy if everything came out. He frowned as he looked down at Spider, sleeping peacefully in his arms. It still hurt like hell to wake him…

For one more moment, he closed his eyes and held Spider as close to him as he could, savoring the final moments of contact. He tried to imagine that Spider truly didn’t have to leave, that everything was okay.

But it wasn’t.

He sighed, braced himself, and shook Spider awake.

“Hmm…?”

“It’s time to go, kid.”

“Already…?” Spider’s voice was tired, broken.

“You got here late last night, kid. You’ve gotta go now, it’s already getting bright outside.”

But Spider didn’t move. He remained in the same position, half holding, half leaning onto Quaritch’s arm.

“Kid?” Spider didn’t answer. Quaritch assumed he must have fallen asleep again. He gave his son a firmer shake.

“Kid.”

But Spider hadn’t been asleep. He turned his head to look up at his dad, tears in his eyes.

“I…I don’t want to go.” Spider’s voice was weak, pleading. It made pangs of guilt shoot through Quaritch.

“I don’t want you to go either, kid. But you’ve gotta. It’s morning.”

Spider shook his head.

“No…you don’t understand. I…I can’t go back. I don’t belong with them.”

The words took Quaritch by surprise. The one thing Spider had always insisted upon his time as Quaritch’s captive was that he belonged with the natives. All of Quaritch’s efforts to convince Spider that he should be among other humans had failed miserably. It had been like talking to a brick wall. It had even, somehow, made Quaritch feel a little proud, seeing that his son had inherited his own sense of loyalty.

What the hell had happened?

Hearing the words from Spider filled him with equal parts sadness and anger.

“Kid…”

Quaritch tried to think of something encouraging to say.

“Those are your people out there. You always told me yourself…”

But Spider shook his head again, the words just upset him more.

“No. They aren’t my people. I was stupid to think they ever were.” Spider croaked out the words.

Quaritch was at a loss. Sully could come through the door at any moment, but he had to try to comfort his son.

“Well…there’s still Sully’s family. I may not like ‘em, but…” Quaritch was desperate even mentioning them like this, but he hoped at least they could inspire some comfort in Spider. But at the mention of the Sullys, Spider let out a sob. He didn’t say anything, but the pained look on his face told Quaritch all he needed to know.  

Rage started to rise in him like a wave, surpassing any anger he’d been feeling before.

Sully.

Of course it was Sully behind this.

Quaritch let out a low growl. His son had stayed loyal to Sully the entire time they were together. As far as Quaritch could tell, Spider practically idolized the man. And in exchange, Sully kicks Spider to the curb? Was this some sick revenge? Making Spider suffer to get at him?

The cry of some animal outside snapped him back to reality.

Shit. Spider was still here. As much as it pained him, Spider had to leave now. It was already well into sunrise, and the villagers would be up and about any moment. Spider’s chance to get out unseen was rapidly fading.

Quaritch’s instincts were screaming at him not to, but he forced himself to push Spider out of his arms.

“Kid. You need to go. Now!” Some of the mounting rage he was feeling had slipped into his words. Spider jumped at the sudden aggressiveness.

“Dad…” Spider choked out, tears rolling down his face.

“If you get caught here, we’re both in for a world of pain! Go!”

Spider looked broken. Desperate. The sight tore Quaritch apart.

“Please, dad. I…can’t…”

“Spider.” Quaritch again had to force himself to do what he needed to do. “Go. Now. That is an order!”

He hadn’t used the phrase with Spider in months, but he needed to get the point across.

Spider, stood still for a moment, his bottom lip trembling. His eyes were closed as tears poured down his cheeks. It took all of Quaritch’s willpower not to hug the boy and never let go. Finally, Spider gave a slow nod.

Hesitantly, he made his way to the opening. He took a shaky breath, then, carefully, he crawled back through.

Quaritch let out a small sigh of relief, then, immediately turned and drove his fist into the tree behind him with all his strength. For a moment, he held the pose, shaking. His mind was on fire, overwhelmed by a mixture of fury and anguish.

He took a shaky breath of his, own then swung at the tree again with all his might, again and again. The rage pouring out of him as he sent splinters of bark flying. Some also lodged into his rapidly bloodying hands, but he didn’t care. He only let out a roar of anger.

He fucking hated this.

He hated everything about his situation. He hated that Spider was out there suffering. He hated that his son had to take enormous risks to even visit him. He hated that Sully was making things worse of Spider. Most of all he hated how he couldn’t do shit about it.

His son was going through hell out there, and he just had to sit in this shithole and take it. Quaritch was tempted to try to gnaw through his binds with his bare teeth. He would rip through them like a rapid dog, then he’d tear at the canvas of the hut until he got through or his arms fell off. Anything to get out there, take Spider far away from every blue-skinned bastard around, then put Sully in his fucking place. If he ever got his hands on that motherfucker…

They wouldn’t even have anything left to bury.

He grabbed the thick material binding his legs and pulled at it with all his strength, struggling against it like a wild animal. But, just as always, the ties didn’t budge.

Quaritch let out one more frustrated roar, then let himself fall onto his side.

It was useless.

His anger slowly subsided, replaced by a deep anguish.

Quaritch groaned. It was a pained, tortured sound, a reflection of everything he was feeling. He raised his bloodied hands to his face, holding his head as he lay on the dirt.

What did he even think he could do? He couldn’t even comfort Spider, for god’s sake. He’d had to look his son in the face as he practically begged for comfort, then all but throw him out of the hut. Having to do that had hurt Quaritch more than anything else he could ever remember.

He’d gotten Spider to go, but did it even make things any better? He was more painfully aware than ever of how much Spider was struggling outside.

I can’t go back.

Spider’s words replayed in his head over and over again. He’d saved Spider from getting caught, but he’d sent him back to what seemed to be Hell for the kid.

He let out another anguished groan. He felt so…powerless. Forced to choose between two ways of hurting his own son. It was torture. Everything about his situation was torture.

Having to order Spider away.

The knowledge that things were awful for the kid.

The upcoming trial.

Even the dump he had to stay in.

The fact that he couldn’t do anything about it.

It was all so…painful. Even for him, it was overwhelming.

As he lay on the floor, he felt a single tear roll down the side of his head, mixing with the blood that had dripped from his fists.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d shed a tear. In this new body, it was most likely never. But then again, he’d never been through anything quite like this. Today’s events had finally broken something in him.

He silently cursed Sully while a few more tears left his eyes, as if it could somehow improve things. But he knew that the man had won. There was no other course of events. In six days, Sully would kill him for good, and Spider would be left alone to his own fate. And judging from the way Sully was treating Spider, it wouldn’t be anything good.

Quaritch tried to think of something, anything, to give him hope. He needed something to hold onto. But his mind came up blank.

He let out one last, quiet groan as he lay on the floor, slowly trying to recompose himself. He refused to give Sully the pleasure of seeing him in this condition when he brought the food. But inside, he was shattered.

Sully had won, indeed.

Writing Quaritch telling Spider to leave was painful...

Hope you liked the way I wrote Quaritch finally cracking under the pressure, writing emotional!Quaritch is one of my favorite parts of this fic!

I felt like being forced to tell Spider to leave while he’s literally at his lowest would be enough to make a tough guy like Quaritch reach his breaking point, but idk. I couldn’t resist writing him shedding a tear. 

If all the angst is too much, don’t worry. These past chapters were basically rock bottom for most of the characters, so things will start looking up somewhat. 

Thanks for reading 💙

Taglist: @yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation @onlyreadz @buzzing-honeybee @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

[zhangyulian]

PAINT ME RED WITH YOUR BLUE - Snippet # 2

Also inspired by listening to 2step by Ed Sheeran

Another idea hit me when I woke up this morning. I need to write it out somewhere before I forget. A little background info: Spider, the Sally’s, and the Metkayina are introduced to the same versions of themselves from a different universe, sans the other version of Jake and Spider. Things get a little complicated and uncomfortable. And a little angsty. Enjoy!

Spider didn’t know how to react anymore. The past few days have been nothing but a whirlwind of confusion, mixed emotions, and very complicated feelings towards a particular person. Or alien. Would one consider a different version of someone you knew from a different dimension an alien? Every time they made eye contact, his heart leaped into this throat. Those golden eyes—alive, not dead, but was dead, different, yet the same, but not really. They bored their way into his soul and through it, ripping him apart, exposing him until there was nothing left. He could tell this new Neteyam was clearly older and more experienced, but he still carried the same mannerisms and expressions as his deceased counterpart. And kept a respectable distance, which Spider was grateful for. But then, there was that look he gives Spider every time they found each other’s gaze. Spider saw the sadness, the guilt, a dark possessiveness, but there was something else. Something that every time it happens, Spider can’t breathe.

The human boy was very aware of why him and Neteyam had drifted apart. He understood and even encouraged it, agreeing, knowing this would be for the best. Spider had snuck out to see the Na’vi boy intent on persuading the other, cementing a promise between both of them. Neteyam refused to listen to him at first, venting his anger that it was unfair Spider couldn’t be part of the Omaticaya, that he couldn’t be part of his family or anything close to him. He confessed to loving the human boy and couldn’t imagine a future without him, despite what everyone else thought or said. Everything was all wrong and that it shouldn’t be this way. Spider moved to comfort Neteyam, rocking them back and forth while the Na’vi boy cried in his arms, holding onto him like a lifeline. They both knew a child Spider’s age shouldn’t have to say “I understand”, that a child Spider’s age shouldn’t have to lecture his ten-year-old friend about his responsibilities bestowed upon him as the next Olo’eyktan and the dangers of being too close to someone like him. That he should focus on something better.

That hadn’t gone over well and resulted in a very heated argument that almost became physical, Spider was surprised the other animals hadn’t come and attacked them. In an attempt to make some type of peace, Spider joked through his own self deprecating smile and own set of tears that maybe in another world, in another life, they could have been more. They had to keep their distance. To protect everyone they loved and everyone else’s hearts and future, at the sacrifice of their own. Neteyam didn’t say anything else, eyes looking up towards the sky, as if he was begging them for help.

Neteyam walked away from Spider that night, accepting his fate. But not before they embraced one more time. Spider made sure to remember those beautiful golden eyes that couldn’t belong to him, burning them into his brain. It was the same look Neteyam gave him when he lay dying on that rock—the sadness, the guilt, a dark possessiveness and something new—regret.

When Neteyam glanced at Spider on his dying breath, the human wanted so badly to comfort him, to embrace him, to tell him everything was going to be okay. Yet he couldn’t. As he laid there dying, Neteyam was still honoring their promise because his family was there. And Spider knew it. It broke Spider’s heart that Neteyam stayed loyal to him in the very end, but it shattered Spider’s soul that as he did the same for Neteyam, he would never be able to tell him one last time that “I love you.”

Spider had suppressed both memories so deep in his heart, he wanted to forget.

His Neteyam, his brother and friend, the keeper of his heart and soul, died because of him. Nothing would absolve him of that guilt. And probably never will. They gave his body back to Eywa mere days ago only for another version of him to suddenly appear. Alive. And even worse? He had learned from the new Lo’ak that not only had his version of Spider and Neteyam been close, but they were lovers and promised mates.

Was this some cruel joke from the universe, or perhaps Eywa’s way of punishing him? To remind him of his sins against someone so perfect, he didn’t deserve him?

Spider didn’t know anymore. It was too much for him to attempt to process on certain days and on others, he would think about taking off his mask under water or finishing what Neytiri had started and plunge a knife into his chest, ending it all. But when he was functional, he’ll continue to avoid this new Neteyam like the plague because he promised his own that he would stay away from everyone they loved to keep them and their hearts and futures safe, at the sacrifice of their own. This promise was the only thing he had left of his Neteyam, and he would honor it until Eywa took him from this world.

[lilunaire]

tag game

tagged by: @ironduke10 tagging: @flowersfortheghost and honestly idk who else to tag lol sorry

number of stories posted to ao3 for 2024: only 1

word counted posted for last year: 144,600 words

fandoms i wrote for: in 2024, i only wrote for the Spider-Verse chapter. Howerer, i do hope to expand that list in 2025

stories with the most

KUDOS: Til we burn our skins (15,6k) BOOKMARKS(including private): /// (375) COMMENT THREADS: /// (137)

work i’m most proud of (and why): well, probably Til we burn our skins. Even if that fic gave me a hell of a writer block, it's the first time i enjoy writing a (multi-chapters) fic so much. I love thinking about it, trying to fit new ideas without adding too much chapters (i fail every time), and (when i dont face a writer block) writing about it of course. It's also the first time i let myself explore some themes, that i wasnt confident enough to do the previous years.

share or describe a favorite review you received: i dont think i have a favorite review, but i do love reading them in general. Especially when they're a long list of what the reader liked about the chapter! Howerer, I do remember a comment from CivilizedYawp on twbos chapter 10, about a smutty scene : i was really unsure about that scene, scared that i couldnt write it the same way i imagined it (because of my writing skills + language barrier). And this comment made my whole day and swept away my insecurities. Thank you so much Yawp.

a time when writing was really, really hard: well, it's kinda still the case... But thankfully the situation is at least better now than it was a few moths before. I posted the tenth chapter of twbos in april 2024, and the next one in december 2024 : huge gap right? it was a horrible writer block, and im glad i can finally move on from this chapter.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: now this is the type of question i hate because im currently running through everything i posted because those kind of information leave my brain as soon as they can so im gonna say writing that much about Betty Brant (and Edward Leeds) in my last chapter : i wanted to develop the friendship between her and Gwen, since they really seemed distant in ATSV, while Glory and Em-Jay seemed more close to Gwen. I thought that for Gwen to be finally herself with her band, she needed to be close to the three of them, to clear tension. And from Betty's side, after wondering for months what happened to Gwen, she wanted to be closer to her and understood that, for this, she also had to be more honest and take her side.

a favorite excerpt of your writing: again i dont like this question, i have a shitty memory when it comes to this 😭 howerer i loved writing the fireworks scene and the smutty scene in chapter 10 (both from twbos, again), so here's a small excerpt from the first:

You can hear the high-pitched sound of rockets soaring into the sky, the voices below sound louder and louder, drowning out the music of the evening. “2!” She feels Miles' hands go over her ears, covering the ambient noise. She only hears white noise, he cuts her off from the cacophony and only him remains. She can see this electric blue blur pass through his eyes before she closes hers. “1! HAPPY NEW YEAR !" His lips are on hers in a second, and time slows down. She feels a shiver run through her, and instead of pulling back, she stands on her pointe to kiss him better. He sighs into the kiss, pulling her closer too. He never wanted to let her go again.

how did you grow as a writer last year: i dont know how i grew, but i sure know i did. i just have to read what i wrote in 2024/late 2023, and compare it with something from 2022 to see the huges differences, and also improvements. Im starting to get a writing style i like and master enough to be able to "twist" it for particular fics/chapters/scenes.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): im not gonna mention everyone, but i want to thank a certain garden that im so glad i got to join (iykyk)

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: write, just write, whatever it is, whatever how bad you think it is, it doesnt matter just do it. Maybe you'll open your doc the next day and will delete it all but it's still improvements. And maybe you'll look at the fics you posted a few years later and will want to hide from the world with how cringe they look now. But in the end, whats important is that you wrote what you liked, and made progress all along the way.

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year: twbos please im begging, i need to finish that fic or i'll explode. id also like to write the 'summer fic', write a bit more for sunshine in grey clouds, a 'nurse au' and a 'royal au' (lets see if i manage to 😭), and a small story for timebomb

thats everything, thank you for the tag and you all for reading ❤️ i hope to see you all soon with a new chapter

[cryptid-writing]

Would love to hear some of your writing concepts too! There’s definitely not enough Mysterio x Reader content out there (especially for the he/ theys :C )

what few posts do exist of that nature is less than you can count on one hand and go a far darker route than I would like.

here's a few of those concepts btw that anyone is welcome to turn into a bit of writing practice or into a full thing:

Insomniac specific:

The Mysterium itself provides a lot of potential for many many many fun things one could do and imagine. :)

The Mysterium was closed for maintenance on the opening day? Oh no, you'd come all the way to see it, you wanted to give it a try.. Not wanting your time to be a complete waste, you spend your time visiting other attractions and booths, but you occasionally stop by the Mysterium. You know whatever issue there was, it wouldn't be resolved so soon.. yet you just couldn't help yourself. There wasn't anyone outside it who you could talk to to see what was wrong or when it would be up and running again.. not until it had gotten late and the man in charge finally stepped out. you saw your chance.. and well. perhaps he noticed you a couple times throughout the day hanging around the Mysterium, or perhaps he is merely surprised by your enthusiasm to keep checking by to stick around this long to see what he'd made?

General:

Perhaps you knew of him before his reform? You knew who he was and who he used to be, but beyond that you knew very little. Perhaps you fancied him a little then, thought him interesting.. perhaps a little ashamed of yourself for thinking that way of a villain. but you couldn't deny there was a level of charm and intrigue with how he looked and moved when footage would play on the news from his fights against Spider-Man. Your first time seeing him unmasked was certainly a surprise. yet. that didn't compare to this moment. Meeting him face to face in person. How did this occur? Maybe you were a brand new "unwilling" hostage/participant in whatever scheme he's cooked up this time, or perhaps he is not in costume and merely trying to be just a normal man, undercover.. yet you know his truth. Do you dare to say anything?

There is nothing that compares to watching a movie alone in an empty theater. You would often try to catch the very last showing of any new or old movies you fancied, hoping to be alone.. Surprise, surprise. There was just 1 other person there. A man. No one else came in, as to be expected of a film which you considered underrated. Throughout the duration of the movie, the two of you were silent.. Then came the end of screening and quietly he initiates a conversation. You feared he may be a threat or a creep, yet to your surprise, he wasn't. He's surprised to see that someone else had come to see this movie in particular, it was one he liked yet many, especially critics, failed to be impressed by.. He has many questions to ask you, won't you indulge him? Who knows, it may end up being far more beneficial for the both of you in the end than either of you could have expected out of this simple little late night outing. (inspired by a moment in the webspinners comic)

Comic leaning:

Quentin Beck retiring indefinitely from the mantle of "Mysterio" and selling off some of his stuff as he goes into hiding to try and live a more honest and normal life. You, by some chance, came across an auction for the real deal devices and costume being sold online. No one had laid any bids on it.. you know you shouldn't, but you admired him, sure he was a villain, but you were aware of what you would be getting yourself into with this. Saving up your money for a long time.. You managed to have just enough to buy the items. They were a little damaged, so you stuck them in a bag and hunted down a shop where you could get some safe repairs, tossing out the 'it's for a cosplay' lie to make it less awkward. During one of your treks back home from repairs, Quentin Beck noticed you from afar, he noticed an all too familiar and impossible not to identify gauntlet of his fall out of your bag. Watching you fumble to quickly gather it again and proceed to scurry off even faster down the street. Now why on earth did you have that? For what purpose would you have with his stuff? It wasn't his business anymore.. yet he was curious.. so he follows after, seeking a few answers from you. Perhaps.. he may wind up with more than he expected? in a positive sense?

[labselkie]

IM BORED and i feel like taking up all the space in the liv tag again

this is the last chapter of Tender Buttons and its main plot on ao3!! its rushed and rambly but i had fun doing it!

“Alright! Alright, so, what you said stuck with me. Why drag people into this? When I can just focus on the Spider. However-” She speaks brightly as she moves her mug to one of the tentacles.

“Oh, goodness, and..?”

“I can drag you into it!” Olivia outstretches her arms with a wide grin.

Lucy’s heart sinks, and she freezes up. “Me?! No, no, no! I’d be terrible for your plan!” She stammers.

“I’d absolutely disagree, you're perfect!” Olivia points at Lucy and pokes her in the chest. “Don't worry, don't worry.. I have a plan, you'll be fine!”

“And if I said no? Would you go and just grab some random guy off the street?!”

Olivia blinks a few times, and pulls back her hand. “Maybe.”

A few moments pass, and Lucy drops her gaze to the counter. She's clearly mulling it over, as her eyebrows furrow and she frowns ever so slightly. All before taking a deep breath and looking back up. “I’m in, but not for the sake of whoever else you would've gotten- I’m doing this for you.”

She can't imagine how long Olivia has been fighting. Fighting for herself, for her work, for her life. Lucy just wants to see the doctor win.

If it weren't for Olivia perking up at Lucy’s acceptance, the younger woman definitely would've felt bad.

“Oh that's just perfect! You know, it's definitely best that you agreed, we already work so well together.” Olivia exclaims, and she steps to the side to wrap an arm around Lucy’s shoulder. An actual arm. Lucy does take this with surprise, but just like the day before she does follow along as they leave the flat.

If Fisk hadn't owned this building, the two women would definitely be getting far more stares, but this only bothers Lucy.

“I was thinking last night, you're the first test subject I’ve grown a liking to, you're not as much of a captive audience. I don’t know-” Olivia muses, and when Lucy’s expression hardens she quickly reiterates. “Hey! Hey I promise I haven't tested on other people- Maybe a spider or two, but you’d think if I did any bigger animal I’d be out of a job!”

Despite the odd subject, Lucy cracks a smile. There's something about the way Olivia talks, the lilt of her voice when she corrects herself, the shift in tone when her mood lightens. Lucy isn't sure why she notices this, but she likes that she does.

Their chats are simple in the long elevator ride down, but the plan is laid out simply.

Lucy attracts Spider-Man to a location on the outskirts of the city. Whether it be a building he hits on patrols or a past battle location, she can catch him and say she's lost. She could hypothetically try and slip on those web-shooter disablers, but she's adamant she couldn't. The machines activate, Olivia is alerted, and Lucy escapes as they fight unfairly.

Not much could go wrong!

𖦹

It isn't the best location, a warehouse on the harbor that is cast into shadow by the clouds above. It's fairly chilly, and the place seems more deserted than anything. Olivia takes a seat on the edge of the roof, her actuators dangling off like ribbons as Lucy looks down into the inky waters.

“I know it's weird…” She begins simply, her hair whipping in the wind, “Why would I know Spider-Man’s patrol routes? Shouldn't I be more focused on work?” Her tone is mocking, like she's tired of herself.

“I wasn't going to ask, if anything, it's best for… Planning-”

Olivia chuckles quietly as Lucy hops down to sit next to her, but her expression soon shifts. “That's nice, but still, if I can do this one thing right, I- I may just get past that thick skull of his.” She’s more solemn, far from the enthusiasm Lucy had expected. The younger woman frowns, glancing back up.

“How long have you been fighting him?” She inquires, keeping her tone soft to try and be a better listener.

“5, uhm- Maybe 6 years?” Olivia speaks with a shrug. “The collider has been such a priority for the last decade, he only got involved a little bit after.”

Lucy fiddles with the web-shooter gadgets as she listens, letting the doctor's voice sink in. “And how often did you fight?”

“Every two weeks, maybe.”

Goodness…

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow, her lips in a thin line as she tries to process just how much Olivia must've been through just to get that machine operational.

Suddenly, far to the west, there's a blur of red leaping through the sky. Lucy notices this first, she was just moments away from zoning out, and after she nudges Olivia’s shoulder the actuators spur back to life. Olivia rises quickly, using the claws to support and lift herself maybe a foot into the air. It must've been a habit by then, like a fearful animal trying to seem bigger. Only two of them are free, and one instinctively pulls Lucy forward.

The distant figure dips behind one building, and then leaps over another, leaving silken strands in his wake. This was it.

“Can I pick you up?” Olivia chimes.

“What?!” Lucy barks, “I mean, sure, but-”

In the split second when the wide eyes of Spider-Man’s mask are visible, Lucy is held up like a trophy by a tentacle as Olivia drops back down to her feet. A second one snaps around her torso as well, and practically squeezes out a shrill, short scream. She slams her eyes shut, and she clenches the mechanical wristbands she held tighter.

The next moment she opens her eyes, all she can make out are the machines that hold her, the dizzying sky, and the flash of Spider-Man yanking an actuator on Olivia's back. Promptly, Lucy is dropped, and she can't help but yelp again as she curls into herself. Rather than by the Spider, one of the tentacles catches her by the collar of her shirt, and tosses her from a foot in the air to the building's stairway.

She can't make out much of the fight, maybe a wide grin from Olivia and flashes of hits, but is too preoccupied with not panicking and breaking the tech anyway. There’s a joke here, a shout there, but the only thing that shines through is how dangerous these two can be. After Spider-Man had pulled the tentacle from under her, Olivia retaliated with a kick. For as cunning as she was, with rhythmic maneuvers and long reaching swings, Spider-Man always seemed to weasel his way out. Whether it be with or without the use of his webs.

“You can't seriously think that you’ll get away forever!” Olivia snaps, her voice breathy and cold. The years of practice came in handy, she deflects a punch and returns with a hard kicking blow to the hero’s stomach, but all he does is deliver an even harder punch right in the face.

“I never did!” He shouts back, and the youthful courage in his voice clearly surprises Lucy. Olivia lets out a forced, dark cackle at his expected quip, and quickly retracts the claw of one tentacle to replace it with a buzzsaw. The sound of spinning metal cuts through the air, an uncomfortable addition to the already tense fight.

It all went downhill fast. Spider-Man pays no mind to Lucy, and strikes hit after hit. Olivia barely had a chance, never did, and probably never will.

One punch hits her square in the nose, causing her to stumble back. But as she does, the saw-tipped actuator rushes forward, and accidentally cuts past her left arm. It slices right through her latex suit and severs a wire on her shoulder, leaving sparks and a gnarly scar in its place. The doctor uses a tentacle to anchor herself to the floor, and the tentacle that had cut her twitches as the saw retracts.

As Lucy scrambles to the stairway’s broken door, Spider-Man shoots a web and disables a tentacle to keep Olivia busy, before shooting one to leap over to Lucy and kneel at her side.

“You! Hey, are you alright?!” He asks, his voice quick. He’s taller than both women, and with how bright his suit is Lucy can feel a headache forming from that and her fall. She lies there for a moment, before leaning forward with a small groan.

“Yeah… Yes-” She mutters. Her upper arm had been badly bruised, and an ache pulsed through her shoulder. Spider-Man brings her hands forward, ready to catch her if she tumbles forward.

The slightest drops of rain tumble off of the Spider’s costume, and cause Lucy to blink quickly. That's when she notices the tall silhouette of the doctor behind Spider-Man.

She bursts forward where she sits, and snaps the thin devices around his wrists.

All she can do is whisper “Sorry,” before Olivia strikes. The villainess clutches her injured arm with the other, and she wrenches Spider-Man away from Lucy by his shoulder. She tosses him like a ragdoll across the roof, and when he attempts to recover with a web, he simply can't. The click of his ring and middle fingers to his wrist are met with silence, and he scrambles to latch onto the side of the building.

Olivia can't even fathom a smile through her rage, and before she's able to rush over Lucy grabs onto an actuator. The girls look like messes, as rain pours down each and every scar is much more visible on Olivia's face, her arm is bleeding and one of the tentacles is glitching wildly. Each strand of wet hair frames her face. Frames that… Look of fear. Lucy keeps her head low, her own hair practically covering her whole head and shoulders. They both breathe quickly, they both freeze, one from pain and one from terror.

As quickly as it started, the moment ends, with Spider-Man leaping forward from the ledge and pushing himself off for momentum. As quickly as she can, Lucy scrambles to stand. She tugs down the tentacle she held as Olivia shouts in surprise… And just before Spider-Man reaches them, Lucy shoves Liv through the doorway and down the broken stairs. The villainess flails to recover, claws slither and writhe to grab anything possibly, but they're unable to other than a windowsill further down. Lucy ducks almost immediately, and Spider-Man’s quick attack only hits the doorway. The concrete crumbles, dust forms around his fist. The punch could've been fatal, and the impact of his strike even formed a hole.

There's a thud at the floor of the building as the downpour continues, and Lucy stays low to the ground.

Spider-Man hesitates, his breath heavy as he looks down. He wrenches off the devices from his wrists, and tosses them in front of Lucy. All before rushing to leap away.

She’s left there, alone, unsure of Olivia's safety after technically betraying them both. Tears hit the roof lighter than the rain.

𓆞

Oh that girl.

It’s over for her.

Olivia lands in a stack of wooden scaffolding, her impact rattling the whole building. It strikes her back and snaps an actuator out of place, leaving her a dizzy, pained mess in a pile of dust.

She doesn't stand immediately, she doesn't even feel like she could if she wanted. Slowly, two tentacles retract back into her suit, but that's met by weak groans. The one that had snapped can only go in so far, and the broken half lies limply out of its casing. The fourth twitches weakly, and fumbles to find something to latch onto.

𖦹

Even through her pain, Lucy was able to get away from the building. She struggles to make herself look presentable in her slow trek back.

She’ll hate me, she won't ever forget what I did.

She does make it back to Olivia's apartment, thank goodness for her planning, but the moment she makes it inside she rushes to the small office room.

It's much cleaner than it was at her arrival, and she makes a note to apologize later when she begins to rummage through.

Was damage to the tentacles felt? Could they be rebuilt?

But she finds nothing helpful. No notes, no schematics, just a map with marks of past fights. It’s covered in bunches of pins and miscellaneous marks, like something a detective would have- Many are bundled around Alchemax locations, but now, a new spot could be added.

𖦹

But what if she didn't team up with the Spider?

Understandably, Olivia's trek home is much slower and much more painful. Each step drains more energy out of her, and she feels like a disgrace.

This is how it usually ended. She’d lose, be beaten and torn worse than before. It was worse this time, since this time she was with someone. It wasn't that she made herself look like a failure in front of the first woman who’s liked her in any way in forever, but more that she was afraid of how she'd lash out at Lucy.

As she walks, she replays each and every moment of the fight in her head. The cuts, the kicks, the punches. And it strikes her that Lucy didn't just run away.

𖦹

The next hour was rough. Lucy crumbled onto the couch, her knees to her chest and her head low. She didn't even bother to clean her wounds, and just… Cried for a bit.

That was most definitely the worst thing she could do. It hurt, she hated herself for acting on impulse, hated herself for even getting wrapped up in this mess.

A knock sounds at the door. It's quiet, but firm. She does hesitate before rising to open it, but does so anyway.

Of course. It's Olivia. She looks worse than earlier, her hair soaked and flat as it tumbles over her shoulders. The cut on her shoulder has been haphazardly covered with another torn piece of her suit, and bruises and scratches litter any visible skin. Her eyelashes flutter, and her chest heaves with each breath. But she stands tall, even with the one tentacle holding her up and the snapped one hanging limp.

Lucy is quiet, her breath caught in her throat as if she were stuck in a dream. Olivia looks at her like a deer in headlights.

“You…” The doctor murmurs.

“You helped me.” Her voice weakens.

She steps in, Lucy steps back, and she wraps her arms around the younger woman. This was nothing like the dream Lucy had. Olivia shakes with each breath, she feels light as a feather as she hugs and holds on for dear life. Lucy is frozen where she stands, her teary eyes widening in shock as she tries to process anything.

It's going far too fast for Lucy, but not fast enough for Olivia. As they stand in a warm, bundled hug full of pain and rainwater, Lucy tries to speak.

“But I-” Lucy breathes out.

“You pushed me, y- Yes, we know..” Olivia states, keeping the hug tight.

Before she can utter another word, Olivia looks up with tired eyes and leaves a weak kiss on the crook of the other woman's neck.

“But you saved me.”

[ephemeralove]

The monk hums to himself, seeking after his next victim target … patient.

And aha! It is not long before she is sighted.

“Miss Katarina! Back so soon—”

Azama pauses almost mid-step, brows furrowing lightly. Maybe he’s imagining things. The wallflower isn't much for making merry on the best of days, he's come to learn, and it's not like she looks devastated or anything. She just. Looks like Katarina, he supposes.

He sits on her cot beside her, hands falling together in his lap. Thumbs twiddle.

“I heard you did well out there,” he starts. “I heard that the odds were not in your favour, but you still stuck it out for as long as you could.”

His smile is gentle, far from its usual. There is a strange lack of mirth in his expression, for once, though it is fleeting - too fleeting perhaps, as he’s back to chuckling in the next moment.

“Well! If I were in a fight like that, I don’t think I’d have had the motivation to keep bothering with it at all, hoho!”

He jumps back up as someone calls his name - truly, there is no rest for the wicked... But he doesn't leave without a parting gift for a farewell: possessed by some impulse, he delivers unto Katarina one, two, HQ headpats. He’s got it on good authority that girls love it when people pat their heads. “Ya did good, lass. Chin up!”

And like a whirlwind ever on the move, the monk prepares to go bother fix up someone else.

At some point, far away from the action, in whatever place her existence is least incumbent upon those flitting hither and thither around her, Katarina is alone. Dark gray casts out toward Gronder Field, staring but not seeing; most of what matters to her has already departed the fray, though she hears Queen Caeda still rains terror upon her foes.

But in this quiet and unremarkable corner, the once and former tactician detachedly mulls over her deficiencies. The eye she turns upon herself is distant and appraising, and as familiar as the disappointment she finds in its place. Each time she should have died and didn't; each time she should have died, and did; at her core she is hardly changed, still that same futile creature who struggles so much and in vain.

"...Oh, Professor Azama." If she recalls correctly, he approached her first with that ineffable whimsy of his, the memory of some exuberance prickling at her mind ere she pulls herself from thought back to reality. Happenstance has saddled him with her company enough times that she accepts his more easily -- she would say 'that she understands him better now,' but no, he is just as befuddling as before. She doesn't mind.

He is confusing this time as well, sitting beside her on her cot with what seems to be a sort of hesitation. Had she earned his pity this year, too? The thought gnashes her lips together in a wry, unsteady smile. It is true, when she thinks on it: she has never accomplished anything, here nor elsewhere, worthy of pride. It was even him who she'd forced to cut her down once, was it not?

"... ... ...? ???????"

And yet for all her moping and silence, Azama disarms her of her melancholy swiftly and succinctly, his palm touching the crown of her head not once, but twice. Without leaving so much as a moment for Katarina to react, the monk freely sashays away. A shame, as it means he shall likely miss the confoundment on her face, and the way her brow twitches, dancing between the furrow of confusion and the skip-up in surprise.

But... he thought she did well, did he not?

Though it may not be pride in her, it is near enough to it that Katarina clings to it like a fool to the spider's thread. Her gaze remains with her, no longer called to Gronder Field but to the warped scar upon her own skin. Vainglory will never be her vice, but... ah, she supposes that not all of her choices are fouler than fair. She may struggle in vain so much more often than not, but there is something to be said for trying.

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023: Day 29: Alt: 9: Drugged

(Part 1 of 2, continued in tomorrow's prompt)

Peter (ooo different!)

My eyes were only off of her for a moment but that’s all it takes for everything to go to shit. My best friend. The girl I love and could never admit those feelings to.

I don’t deserve to love her anyways. Not after this. It’s all my fault and she should have someone far better. Someone who can actually save her.

Ro. I first knew something was wrong with her when my Spider-Sense went off like crazy, the hair on my arms standing on end.

I search the party, weaving through crowds of people to look for her. It’s just a high school party. I know people can get a little crazy but I never expected anything bad to happen.

But here we are. I open a bedroom door, hearing muffled screams behind it. At first, I hadn’t even considered that it was Ro who was in trouble.

Because I can’t ever bring myself to think like that.

Behind the door, I find Ro half dressed and screaming with two guys overpowering her, pinning her to a bed. She struggles under their weight, looking dazed.

“No! Get off!” I scream.

They turn to me, dropping her suddenly, leaving Ro to writhe on the floor, not having the strength to get up. “Ro! Ro, can you hear me?!”

She moans, showing no signs of knowing what’s going on around her. “What did you do?!” I growl in anger.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Parker?” One of them taunt me. I don’t even recognize either of the guys.

“Glad you asked.” I reply, punching him in the face, easily fighting the second guy as he tries to get me off of his friend.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts, surprised by my agility and strength. I don’t care if they find out I’m Spider-Man. Right now, all that matters is Ro.

I don’t pull my punches, beating the two severely enough that they’ve become whimpering piles of blood on the floor.

“Fuckers.” I spit.

My fiery anger dissipates at the sight of Ro. She’s passed out next to the bed, disheveled. “Oh my God, Ro…”

I rush to her side, checking her pulse. She’s okay. It doesn’t seem unusual. “Ro? Ro, please wake up. Please, it’s me. It’s Peter.”

She gasps and whimpers, curling into a ball. “N-No…P-Pete…help…”

My stomach turns and I nearly puke. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Let me get you outta here. It’s okay now.”

I find her shirt, helping her put it on. She has practically no strength to move at all. When helping her pull her jeans back on completely, I find that the button is broken off.

They tried so viscously to rape her that they broke the button on her jeans. I’m gonna be sick at the image in my head.

Ro. Helpless. Crying. Screaming. Begging. Begging for me to help her. And I was nearly too late. If I didn’t have my Spider-Sense…

I can’t think like that. She’s okay. She’s alive and she’s okay. And I’m getting her the hell out of here.

These fucking vultures did a real number in my best friend and I am fuming. But I need to put Ro first. No matter how much I want to kill those two guys, I have to worry about her.

Plus, those two are writhing on the floor right now. They won’t mess with her again. And hopefully they won’t touch anyone else.

I’d call the police, but I imagine that would leave the cops with a lot of questions. Two bloody guys beaten to a pulp and a drugged up girl with her seemingly lanky and weak best friend.

Her best friend who is definitely not Spider-Man.

I’ll deal with the consequences of showing the extent of my strength later. There’s no time to waste. Not with Ro still in this house.

I open a window and swing out of it with her in my arms, going to my Queens apartment to help her out in a more private place.

I crawl in through my window, placing Ro on the bed. She looks terrible. I should make sure she’s okay. What if she never wakes up?

I gulp. “May?”

Hearing me call her name, she pops her head in the door, seeing Ro. “Crazy night?”

I don’t have to say anything for her to change her tune. She just looks at my face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Ro got drugged. I almost didn’t save her in time. I almost…” I tell her, letting the tears fall as the horror sinks in.

“Oh, Peter…” May gasps. She sits on the bed, putting a hand on Ro’s forehead. “She’s okay. She’s gonna be fine. We should call an ambulance. We don’t know what kind of drugs she was given.”

“I need to tell Mr. Stark.” I say. “I mean, this is his daughter. D-Do you think he’s gonna hate me? I hate me…didn’t save her…not fully. She was half dressed and barely conscious…”

May kisses my temple. “You saved her. You did. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened to Ro. And if Mr. Stark is as smart as he says he is, he’ll understand that.”

I nod. “Yeah…okay. I should call him now. Just so he knows and so…so Ro has her dad. They’re really close. I mean…he’s all she has now. Like I have you.”

She smiles sadly. “And you’ll always have me, Peter.”

I pull out my phone with shaking hands, dialing Mr. Stark. He doesn’t answer, but I don’t blame him. There’s no good reason for me to be calling this late and he likely thinks it’s just me talking about lab stuff. More often than not, that’s what I call him about.

I decide to use Ro’s phone for the second try. He’s more likely to answer her. It rings a couple of times before his voice can be heard on the other side of the phone. “Hey, kiddo. You on your way home? It’s past your curfew, miss.”

His playful kindness towards her makes me both happy and sad. Happy that she has him, but sad at how he’s going to feel about all of this. It’ll destroy him like it has me. Probably even more so.

Ro is his baby, after all.

“Mr. Stark.” I say, voice shaking more than I thought it would. “It’s Peter.”

There’s a tense pause before he speaks. He knows it’s bad. I wouldn’t have called from her phone if it wasn’t. “What’s wrong, kid?”

My heart pounds. “If I knew something was happening I would’ve come quicker, I swear. I-I…”

“Pete, tell me what’s going on.” He gently presses. “Is Ro alright?”

“I don’t know.” I say. “I don’t know how this could happen but…someone drugged her. They must have slipped something in her drink. She wasn’t even having alcohol. I lost track of her and my Spidey-Sense went crazy and I…I found her in a bedroom with two guys trying to…to…”

I hear him exhale, his breath shaking fiercely. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m at my apartment. I brought her here so I could keep her safe. She’s passed out on my bed. She was half dressed when I found her there. They were gonna really hurt her, Mr. Stark. They almost did. If I hadn’t found her…” I explain.

“And the guys that did it? Where are they?” Mr. Stark questions.

“Back at the house where the party is. I beat the crap out of them. I don’t care if it looks suspicious or if they find out I’m Spider-Man. I had to save her.‘I had to.” I reply.

“I know, kid.” He says. “And you did. Is she hurt? I'm on my way.”

“Okay. And no, not that I can tell. She wasn’t really able to talk to me when I found her but she was crying out for help and that’s when I got those assholes off of her. She’s out of it now and I’m scared she won’t wake up. I don’t know what she was given. But physically…she’s just a little roughed up. I think she’s okay mostly…I hope.” I tell him.

“I’m on my way. If anything changes, you call me. Understand?” Mr. Stark urges me.

I nod. “Yeah, of course.”

“If things take a turn and I’m not there, you swing out of there in all your spider glory and take her to the hospital, alright?” He continues. “I’m not losing her. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“You’ve got it, sir.” I say. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

He pauses before hanging up, seeming to have trouble leaving like this. I’ve just told him some earth shattering news, so I can’t blame him.

“Kid?” Mr. Stark asks.

“Yeah?” I reply. “I'm still here.”

He gulps. “Don’t leave her side. P-Please.”

Hearing him so vulnerable shakes me up. “I won’t, Mr. Stark. Not for a second.”

“Good.” He mumbles. “If she wakes up, tell her I’m coming.”

“I will.” I say.

Mr. Stark hangs up after that and I wait anxiously for him to arrive, not leaving Ro for even a moment just as I promised.

I’ll never leave her side again.

(Second/last part of this tomorrow)

[localwebslingers]

Peter nodded slightly, “I can’t imagine…” not really. The change he underwent himself all those years ago was dramatic in its own way. Still had been scary in the moment as he tried to figure things out. It didn’t change his appearance though, and he was still in control of himself and his own mind. At the end of the day, Peter was still himself. What Conners was going through right now? It was a whole other level, anyone would be terrified going through that. 

“There’s a lot of tunnels down there that he could escape through, but there’s a lot of rooms where maintenance work happens. Pressure gauges, safety valves, vents…the whole thing.” it wasn’t Peter’s first time having to go down there. Even if he didn’t face Conners in one of those spaces, he'd still know about them, “There’s a few larger areas too with just drains, mostly brick and a few pipes to get to other areas. If I had to guess, he’s already in one of those areas. They’re isolated, warm, seems like a good place to hide out.”

No one would be going down there right now either, not after news about the fight between a giant lizard-monster and Spider-Man got out and started circulating. 

Goblin was looked back at and Peter thought it over, “...you mean like, let you lead the way in?” he asked, frowning a little, “I mean sure, if you want to, but you shouldn’t move to get near him alone. Conners would be able to focus on just you then way easier. If we both go in together, then it might have his attention divided enough that we can get close enough for the antiserum to be given to him.” he didn’t mind hanging back or moving after Goblin did, as long as Conners wasn’t too on edge by the time they got there. 

“I can definitely try and web him down to slow him, if you give me a clear shot, but I can’t promise he won’t dodge them. I wasn’t kidding when I said he was quick.” and they’d already gone up against each other before. Peter wouldn’t be surprised if Conners had an idea already of how to avoid him. Of course, that also meant he had an idea of what to watch for too, “I’m okay with you moving in first, but I’m not going to stay hanging back.”

\\ @inhcritance \\

Connors being an actual lizard was both good and bad news, in a way: it meant he had taken the lizard serum they were working on countering, because if it was some kind of version closer to the primitive G-Serum Harry had taken in the past, the doctor's situation and the formula would be rather different.

Still, Harry had not been there to face the man when he'd first turned himself into the Lizard, so he had no frame of reference to compare. Only Spider-Man's rather bloody experiences, and what he could see as the result afterwards.

"If there's some awareness, that might make it all worse." He considered, in the end, shifting the formula into another vial to mix it properly, before returning it to the heat.

He was far from eager to be fighting Connors, all in all, and the man being completely unaware might have been a mercy... and not only that.

"The mind is not made to deal with those kinds of changes." He told Peter. "Of course he's scared."

And of course the Lizard was stronger then: Harry found it hard to ignore them still, when under tension and under stress, and he could only imagine Connors' situation.

"Cornering him will be dangerous." Harry admitted. "But cornering him and keeping our distance might be our best chance at applying the anti-serum."

He halted for a few moments, aware as he was that he was not too familiar with the sewer systems, and needing to pay attention to the cure once more.

"When we get down there," he added, however, glancing at Spider-Man once more, "leave the first approach to me. Even if I won't oppose it if you manage to web him."

He probably could break through the webs, at least a few times, but it might gain them a few moments.

It didn't change how Peter was in very little condition to get close to the Lizard.

@localwebslingers

[arileartist]

Fluffy Headcanons for Rin Matsuoka~

Best boy deserves best love❤️❤️

Wakes up VERY early, doesn't wake you up though. He knows you like to sleep a lot, so he'll let you awake up at your own comfort. He will kiss you a lot though, so if you are a light sleeper, get ready for random kiss attacks.

Makes breakfast for the two of you everyday before going for his morning jog. He doesn't cook a lot, but you still appreciate that he does this for you (also, his Australian style breakfast is just🤌🏻✨)

Not a big fan of cuddling. Only when you two are together in bed, he'll hug you as his "pillow". Cannot fall asleep without you otherwise.

Throughout your day, you'll be constantly having messages like, "yo!, Had lunch??/ I'm leaving early today, will come to pick you up. Wanna go somewhere after?/ Let's meet up with the others and go for a swim!"

You'd think he's the manly one, but he's just as scared of critters and other things as you are. One bumblebee and he's going to be moving out. You wonder how he lived in Sydney.

"Y/N NO. THERE'S A GIANT ASS SPIDER UNDER THE COUCH I'M NOT STAYING HERE, IT CAN KEEP THE HOUSE BYE"

PDA 10/10. Will throw an arm around your shoulders, random kisses on your hair, pinching your cheeks is all your daily routine now. He doesn't care if you're in public, he wants to make you feel loved, and he will. Just make sure to return his gestures with equal amounts of affection.

Clean boi. Self care and workouts with him ALWAYS. You go to the gym and do your workouts, advise each other on your figures, you two also take turns making each other feel relaxed and have massages. He knows how to get hair off, so you don't need to worry about spending $$$ for special salon waxing. You can rely on him and do it at home (mostly with him). His hands are gentle, and you barely feel any pain when he tears off the strips and blows on the area, smiling and asking you if it hurt.

He's so gentle with you :(

You'd think he's strict and would be just as tough as when he talks, but it's the opposite. He WILL make sure to handle you in the most careful way. If there's any arguments, he would wait out his frustration, but he'll come to terms with it and start treating you normally again (provided you also gave your efforts ofc). Your fights NEVER last over a day. If you're mad at him, he leaves you alone for some time, but he can't stay without talking to you. He'll come and sit besides you, randomly smother you with kisses, tickle you to get you to laugh, he'll lay on your lap and give you his puppy face (I 100% believe he does this). He'll be upset if he sees you hurt. He cannot bear to see it.

If you are the one who angered him, it wouldn't take long before he's calmed down, although he has a habit of being mean to push people away when he's upset at them, so you'll need to break through his barrier. Just give him lots of love and show that you're truly sorry, he'll be understanding, and will be back to normal.

Loves to watch romantic movies with you. Oftentimes, imagines the scenes with him and you as the main characters, and might get emotional. Cherish your romantic idiot, he'll be the one you're going to be spending the rest of your life with. Make sure every single moment counts...

Get him small gifts every once in a while. Celebrate his swimming victories, and take him out. He loves it when you surprise him, and he'll always appreciate it. "Thanks y/n..I love you sooo much". Encourage him when he's swimming. He loves your attention, especially when he's nervous and needs some assurance. You're in to fill that role~

You two cook together. It's one of those things you love to do with him. He's honestly a solid cook, could probably rival Haru's skills. You play with each other a lot while at it.

"Hey Reeeen~ catch!" *Throws a bottle of sauce*

"y/n there's something on your lips-" *kisses you*

"HEY!!"

"heheheh~"

Before sleeping, you two talk about your day, and share all the good things that happened to you. It acts as a good summary to remind you both how lucky you are.

"Goodnight Rin"

"Nighty night~"

Maybee someone's still a little energetic and wants to play with their boyfriend some more though....

"Hey-" *pokes Rin's arm*

"hm?"

"Wanna do something fun?"

*chuckles* "Alright, let me show you a sight you've never seen~"

You two proceed to spend the rest of the night getting wasted on your console. There's nothing more relaxing than a hard core gaming session.

What? Did you think something else was going to happen? Sheesh~ y/n... Naughty naughty :))

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Once again, GIF credits go to @meideixx

Namor (MCU) X Mexican!OC

Part I Here

Part III Here

MASTERLIST

Synopsis:

War photographer Sadie Medina is one day mysteriously whisked away on a mission that is suspiciously secret for a botanical expedition. A tragic twist of the events leads to her getting too close to something she should’ve never found, and too close to people who, by all odds, was never supposed to meet, be imprisoned by, and much less grow close to.

Word count: 2,250

Warnings:MCU typical violence, mentions of war, mentions of death and un-aliving people.

*Disclaimer: I’m by no means an expert on Mayan, but I did my best (by this I mean I looked for the best translator possible) and sorry for any mistakes. Handy little translations at the end, if needed.

Sadie could hear their voices like they were very far away, and for a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming. Some of the words were familiar.

Ta’akubae’

Chu’ukul

Sajakil

Familiar didn’t mean reassuring. There were two people. A man and a woman were arguing about her. By the time she had fully opened her eyes, she was surprised to still see some dim, greenish light surrounding her. Finding herself lying on a hammock, Sadie turned her head slowly to get a better look at her captors.

They looked like they had jumped out of the walls of one of the many ruins she had visited, out of the murals and carvings that covered them. And yet, there was something about them that didn’t look entirely…earthly. While Sadie couldn’t fully understand what they were saying, she comprehended fragments that gave her a notion of what had just happened.

They had gotten the entire team while she was inside the grotto and realized there was someone else inside when they saw the rope. After deciding to wait, they saw her emerge and “were ordered” to take her and find out what her purpose was “by any means necessary.” 

Her brain couldn’t even take one minute to think about those people. She knew it was vital for her own survival to act quickly. Her hand slowly crept up her opposite arm, sighing with relief when she found the small bulk of the vial. Sadie removed and carefully placed it between the folds of the hammock.

“Ma’k’a’abéet,” she spoke, cringing at her own pronunciation. To say she was rusty after so long was the understatement of the century. “Ma’in wojel mixba’al”

That immediately made them turn towards her and exchange quick glances. Sadie slowly sat up and tried to walk a little, feeling pain in every inch of her back. She made her way toward the cell and added, in the calmest voice she could.

“Láayli’ bey ma’ u páajtal in t’aan.” There. That’d buy her some time. If only she remembered how to say, “I want to know who is in charge.”

Apparently, it wouldn’t be necessary. The woman whispered something in her partner’s ear before leaving the room. Meanwhile, the man examined her. She was surprised to find more curiosity than hostility in his demeanor, like a child that had just trapped a spider under a glass, before turning his back to her with a disdainful huff.

“K’eeban,” she said, apologizing out of habit. “Tu’ux biin?” Sadie asked, to no avail. Sure, she didn’t even want to imagine how horrible her Mayan was, but she figured it was understandable. She repeated her question, but he kept ignoring her.

She muttered a curse under her breath as she headed to the back of her cell. Of course, he turned around so fast she thought he’d break his neck.

“Yeah, that you understood, didn’t you?” she shouted back without turning around. Fine, stupid move for a hostage, she had regretted it as soon as she did it but damn her stupid impulses. And yet, what she heard a moment later threw her off even more than if the huge guard had tried to pry her cell open.

“Mercedes Medina Alba”

Her name. Her actual name spoken by an unknown voice in a paused, arrogant tone that sounded more threatening with every word he emphasized.

“How do you…?” she asked, this time being her who violently turned around. Before she stood a man that held her ID card, analyzing it carefully, holding it by the corner as if it was toxic to him. He was dressed differently from the other two, with a pale turquoise shawl covering his shoulders, jade piercings on his ears and nose, and many necklaces.

“I assume you are in charge,” she stated, carefully approaching the bars.

“And you assume well. Now tell me, what were you and your people doing in this part of the ocean?”

Men with badges. Men with authority. She didn’t trust either of them one bit.

“But you see, I’m at a disadvantage here. I don’t know how I got here, where I am being held, or by whom. I don’t even know the name of the person I’m talking to. Can you at least give me that?”

“You’re not in a position to demand anything,” he coarsely asserted, “I ask something, and you give me an answer. That’s all.”

“It’s not a demand,” she insisted. “Please.”

He stared her down thoughtfully. The woman leaned in and whispered something to him.

“K’uk’ulkan, ma’ in wa’alike’ bixake’ ma’alo’ob tuukul.” 

“K’uk’ulkan? Is that your name?” Yet another familiar word.

“It is to them,” he quickly snapped at her authoritatively. “You may call me Namor. There’s your answer. Now I need mine,”

He spoke with urgency. Sadie knew he was desperate to know. Why did he care so much about what a group of people did in some underwater caves?

Unless there weren’t just caves. She remembered the bright light that emanated from the rocks. Perhaps they had found something they weren’t meant to. And Sadie knew very well what happened to that sort of person. But, unless he had seen the pictures, Namor could not know whether she had found anything. She had to keep it that way for her own sake, so she took her chances.

“I already told your people. I don’t know, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell everything to a complete stranger.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer he wanted. Namor inched closer to the cell, never prying his menacing eyes off her. She did her best to hold his glare until he was so close she had to tilt her head upwards to maintain eye contact.

“If you won’t talk, I have ways to make you.”

“You’re hardly the first one to try,” she retorted, leaving him standing there and going back to her hammock, sitting on it with her back towards them.

“But I will be the last. Trust me.” He uttered before leaving as quietly as he had arrived.

 

 

With no natural sunlight, it was hard to keep track of time there. 

The only thing that helped was finding a small bowl of fruit and fresh water outside her cell every now and then after sleeping. However, Sadie was sure it wasn’t constant because sometimes she’d be starving right before finding it, but when the next one arrived, she wasn’t hungry.

While she knew a guard was always standing nearby, nobody came to see her for the next four or five food bowls. 

Of course, the first thing she did when she felt alone enough was check every inch of her cell, searching for microphones or cameras. Once she found nothing, she tried finding a weak spot on the bars, or a gap in the wall, to no avail. 

She’d just given up right when her last bowl had been delivered. 

When Sadie reached out to grab it, another hand gripped the other side and held it firmly. She lifted her head to find a pair of familiar dark brown eyes. 

“You must owe them a lot if you insist on going through all this for them.” 

Sadie hummed with an indifferent shrug. She’d have to talk again. 

“I don’t. But I don’t owe you anything, either. And since I don’t know what either of you wants, what I might know is safer with me.” 

“You say you don’t owe me anything, but I could have had you killed instead of taking the risk of bringing you here.” 

Namor slowly sat down in front of the cell without taking his hand off the bowl. Sadie nodded in acknowledgment and followed him, mirroring his movements. 

“That would be a bad call. I know something you don’t, and it’s important. So, you need me alive.” 

He seemed to want to add something until Sadie interrupted him. 

“But I think you already made a mistake, didn’t you?” She hissed, bringing her face a bit closer to the bars. “You sent your people to kill the intruders, and by the time you realized they were there with an important purpose, it was too late. But by sheer luck, you found one still alive. Am I right?”

Namor didn’t reply. He remained completely silent, staring intently at her with such a bitter expression that Sadie feared she’d made a terrible mistake. Without saying one more word, the man harshly pushed the food towards her, stood up, and marched towards a tunnel away from her cell until the echo of his footsteps was imperceptible among the rocks. 

Now Sadie knew something else. She was right. And he was incredibly proud. 

~Disclaimer: the Mayan long dialogue has been translated for clarity.

 

“Can you believe it?” Namor huffed in annoyance, pacing back and forth across the room while Namora observed from her seat at the table. 

“Who does she think she is, speaking to me like that when she is the prisoner?” 

“She may be a prisoner, but she’s not wrong, my king,” she replied in a reprimanding tone, “She could know more than we had anticipated.”

“And yet, she refuses to speak. I don’t know if she’s incredibly loyal or incredibly stubborn.” 

“The girl has one point,” Namora noted thoughtfully, “She has absolutely no reason to trust us any more than she did the dwellers that came with her.”

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Namor asked, sitting down as well with a tired sigh. 

“Convince her that we’re not the enemy,” she replied, “Gain her trust little by little until we convince her that whatever she knows will be of better use in Talokanil hands. Once she complies… we’ll do what we must.”

“It’s a shame,” Namor spoke after a short pause. “She’s smart for a surface dweller. I wish they would stop looking for their own demise.” 

Both of them stood up. 

“Let me know when it’s time for her next ration. I’ll try and talk to her again.” 

Namora answered affirmatively and left the room after saluting K’uk’ulkan. 

Mercedes hadn’t heard her full name in a while. To listen to it for the first time in months with such a threatening tone affected her more than she cared to admit. 

Her favorite person to call her that had been dead for twenty years. Pa was wrong. In the end, it was Mercedes who had to leave for the mountains with the rest of the children and women, despite her pleas to stay and help like some male friends did.

She wasn’t the best shot, but at least she knew how to fire a revolver or wield a machete. 

Her father knew their weapons could do little against what the army would bring. Rumor had it they had received help from their neighboring country. 

They hadn’t said it explicitly, but every man who stayed behind knew that, despite having been told by their leaders that defending the campsite was the main objective, they were fighting to give their families enough time to reach the safety of the Sierra Madre. 

So much so that only a few women returned the following day to collect whatever belongings the soldiers had left behind and identify as many people as possible to give their families the bad news. 

This time they couldn’t stop Mercedes from tagging along. To that day, she wished they had.

The camp was completely empty, which was confusing until a terrible stench reached them. Then they saw the smoke coming from behind the huts, creating a horrifying realization. It wasn’t until then that someone grabbed the little girl from behind to prevent her from going further. No matter how much she screamed and kicked and eventually begged. 

Mercedes screamed so loudly that she woke herself up. She sat up on the hammock and fumbled with it in frustration, trying to free herself before finally falling to the floor, panting. 

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes until a soft sound made her look up. 

“What the fuck are you doing there?” Sadie asked, angrily wiping her eyes, “How long have you been standing there?”

Namor didn’t say anything. To her surprise, he looked puzzled. Almost uncomfortable, having surprised her in such a vulnerable moment. That only angered her more. 

“So? What do you want? Or are you just going to stand there like a creep? Is that what you’ll do now?” She yelled at him, pounding the bars once. He didn’t even flinch. It was until then that Sadie realized he had a small package in his hands, which he carefully placed on the floor in front of her cell. 

“I'll come back later." He announced before leaving. 

He had left new clothes for her. They consisted of an opaque white ankle-long skirt made out of soft, flowy fabric, decorated with colorful embroideries and tiny seashells; a matching shirt of the same color, except the seashells were substituted by brown-spotted feathers around the neck. She thought of rejecting them for a moment, but by then, she felt like the neoprene suit would become one with her skin. 

With a sigh, Sadie buried the ghosts of the past back where they belonged and relished in the feeling of soft fabric caressing her skin. 

The Translations:

Ta’akubae’: Hidden

Chu’ukul: Trapped

Sajakil: Fear

Ma’k’a’abéet Ma’in wojel mixba’al: It’s not necessary. I know nothing.

Láayli’ bey ma’ u páajtal in t’aan: Still, I can’t say anything.

K’eeban, tu’ux biin?: Sorry, where she go? (mistake intended to show Mercedes' lack of practice)

K’uk’ulkan, ma’ in wa’alike’ bixake’ ma’alo’ob tuukul: K’uk’ulkan, I don’t think it’s a good idea.

[silver-weasel]

Diving (Deku x Reader)

Pairing : Deku x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut • fem!reader (she/her) • best friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers • quirkless AU • p*rn with feelings (like. a lot of them) • public sex (more or less) • switching • hair pulling? • pining • Deku being flustered and an absolute angel what’s new • Reader being a teasing brat • It’s all soft and fluffy, I’m as vanilla as you can get 🤷‍♀️ • Happy birthday to the bestest boyyy I love him so much it hurts

Word count : 10 600 (Holy sh—)

A/N : Thank you @hoe-doroki my beloved and savior for beta-ing <3

Written for @rat-zuki​’s collab in honor of our favorite birthday boy, The Deku Agenda Escapes no One. Thank you so much for letting me join! (go check out the other amazing writers and artists!)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The ground grinds repeatedly under your hiking shoes, some pebbles being kicked forward on your way. You’re way too deep in the forest to hear any cars passing by and during the two hours you’ve been here you haven’t run into anyone. The place seems empty, the only souls breathing the forest’s thick air being you, Izuku and the birds chirping all around you.

The afternoon is coming to an end, the sun sinking down on its way to hide behind the mountains. The remains of its soft light are filtering through the dense leaves all around and above you. You’re surrounded by green, lush and immeasurable greenery, every plant merging into another.

You’ve left the marked paths, now wandering deep in the richest, boundless part of a forest you both know like the back of your hand after roaming it all over innumerable times. All over, except for this part, in which you’re setting foot for the first time today. Your many previous hiking sessions were shortened by your questionable sense of organization, always arriving too late to explore further into the unknown.

Leaves brush against your knees with every single step you take as you follow Izuku on his heels. He’s moving at a steady pace, his hands holding tight the straps of his yellow backpack that he’s had for as long as you can remember. He’s always so organized, has everything you two could eventually need and generally never do. Two huge flasks of water, an entire meal he calls ‘little snacks’, with sandwiches, fruits, protein bars, even hard-boiled eggs. A first-aid kit with disinfectant, bandages, scissors and painkillers. Hell, you’re even wondering if he has any pads for you in there, in case of an unexpected period. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You giggle lightly when you see him stumble for the sixth time since you got here; he can’t seem to keep his curious eyes from drifting up and around, looking in every direction, probably retaining every detail and logging it in some impressive mental database of his. And he’s commenting on every little thing he sees too; he makes you notice things you never would have if it weren’t for his candid interest in everything.

“Oh! Look at that bird!” he exclaims, pointing at a branch over your heads. “Do you see it, right there, with the red mark!”

You turn your gaze to where he’s pointing and see a little bird, very cute, but so tiny you’re wondering how one could spot it without specifically looking for it. That’s probably what you like most about Izuku: his attention to detail. That’s the thing—nothing is too small for him, everything is worthy of interest. His eyes always light up with such curiosity, this child-like wonder and it was always one of your favorite things to witness growing up.

When he came over to your house at age six, he was always running around with some bug on his forearm, calling your name, yelling, “Look at this!”

Most of the time, it was a snail or a ladybug, and that always managed to catch your interest. Sometimes, it was a spider or a beetle, and he had you screaming in horror more than once, running to your mother’s legs with weeping eyes. Those times, he always watched you go with wide, sad eyes and a wobbly lip, because, “I would never hurt her, Mom! I swear I didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, yeah, I see it! It’s so cute!”

And it is cute, the way his huge green eyes go even rounder in amazement. You treasure these hikes for providing occasions to witness this. But as much as you wish this moment could last forever, the sun is beginning to set, you probably shouldn’t go deeper in the forest at sundown.

“We should probably head back to the car, Izuku. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Come on, it’s still so light—there’s no rush!” His lips crook a bit into an impish smile. “Scared that a bear is coming to get you?”

“There aren’t any bears here—we’ve been coming for five years.”

“Because if it’s the bears you’re afraid of,” he begins, ignoring you on purpose, “you know I’ll protect you, right?” he says, sticking out his chest like he’s some superhero.

“Against a bear? Right.”

“You’re underestimating me? That’s just mean.”

You chuckle at his antics, shooting him a look of yours that says, ‘Come on, please?’.

His eyes soften a bit, but he’s used to that look; it’s been years since it worked on him as well as you’d like it to.

“We can just keep going this way, then we’ll make a loop and head back to the car directly! It’ll be even shorter this way.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” you agree, and the smile it elicits from him makes something tingle deep in your stomach.

You move forward again, sinking deeper within the forest. It’s becoming harder and harder to walk, brambly branches and huge leaves blocking your way more and more with every step.

You’re a bit ahead of him when you catch sight of a sparkle behind the bushes. Just a glimpse of light, but you’re positive you saw it. Is there water here? You never really looked at a map of the place before—you just always went wherever you felt like and used the same tracks on the way back. You hurry up a bit, curious eyes fixed on that glimmer of light.

Soon enough the dense greenery comes to an end, and you’re finally out of the bushes, finding your way into a little clearing. You’re standing, speechless, in front of a pond: it’s about forty feet wide, catching the last rays of sunshine in a dazzling reflection. The water is surrounded by gigantic trees big enough to be home to an entire niche of biodiversity, and a half-sandy, half-stony shore with reeds rising from the water on both sides.

It’s all calm and quiet and massive trees, branches pouring, cascading above still water. The air feels cool, filled with a pure smell of dew and spring even though it’s the end of a hot day of July.

Izuku is close behind you and lets out a very cute, “Whoa,” ditching his backpack on the ground next to you in the middle of the cove. The both of you just stand there for a moment in complete silence, aside from the birds chirping. Izuku breaks it first:

“How come we’ve never seen this before? This place is amazing.” He sounds distant as he speaks, soaking up his surroundings like he always does.

“I guess you never know everything about anything,” you say mindlessly, without detaching your gaze of the wonderful view ahead.

He’s standing close to you, very close. You’re only noticing now that you’re coming down from the high of your discovery. Your arms are brushing, you can feel his body heat from how close you two are. It wouldn’t be the first time; you’re no stranger to being physically close to Izuku. You’ve been playing together since you were able to put one foot in front of the other. And you wish you could say it feels any different right now, but that would be a lie. Being close to him always felt the same. Always felt like the only easy thing in your life. The only constant.

Yet it’s not enough. No matter how close, it’s never enough, it never was. You hate yourself for feeling that way; you’ve never been the greedy, unsatisfied type. You have everything with Izuku. Well, almost everything.

But right now this place—this very quiet, beautiful place with no one in sight is doing things to your fertile imagination. Despite the sun just beginning to set, the summer air still remains thick with heat. You find yourself staring in the abyss of that water, admiring the masterpiece of a reflection on the surface, a painting of leaves and clouds and blue sky. It calls you, sings an irresistible song of fresh water on sweaty skin and strong, freckled arms wrapped around you.

You don’t know if the slight, insignificant detail that you would have to undress in order to dive into that water—since you didn’t bring a swimsuit—is a better reason to do it or to refrain from doing so.

You’ve lost count of how many moments you’ve shared with him just like this one. So many chances for you to take. You never have.

Back to the original issue: can you see yourself walk out of that clearing the way you always do? Can you see yourself going home, adding this missed chance to your growing collection of lost memories, of hands within your reach that you chose not to take?

The answer pops in your mind, crystal clear for the first time since you met him.

You drop your bag on the ground, turning to Izuku with a delighted expression stretching your features. The look on your face reminds him of one he’d seen on you as a kid, bouncing on the balls of your feet in front of the ice cream truck. At this moment he just knows you’ve got some stupid shenanigan in mind, like you always do. Once again, he isn’t wrong.

“Wanna take a dip?” You’re squinting at him from his side, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“I-I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he stutters.

It’s been a long time since he last stuttered in front of you. He got rid of it years ago, but it still resurfaces sometimes in front of intimidating strangers or in a socially uncomfortable situation. Never in front of you, though.

“Me neither,” you answer plainly with that same impish smile, and his eyes go round at your implications.

“Wait, you can’t be—Oh my God—”

His heart does a great flip in his chest when he catches you taking the hem of your shirt up over your head. In less than five seconds, you’ve got him scorching hot, feverish and suddenly he can’t tell right from left.

His reflex is to bury his face in his hands. He respects you too much to take a peek, but you’re making things very difficult for him. He can hear you move towards the water, can hear the thump of your forgotten shoes hitting the ground one after the other, can hear the soft pad of your naked feet on the rocks.

“For the love of God, please, put it back on…” 

“What? Look at this view, it would be a shame not to make the most of it!”

He’s not looking at the view right now, he can’t let himself. He knows very well he won’t be able to focus on the trees when you’re standing pretty much naked—although he’s not sure to what extent—in front of him. You could be entirely naked right now and he wouldn’t be able to tell, his burning face still hidden in his shaking hands. His voice comes out muffled when he stammers, “I-It’s starting to get late, we really should get back to the car…”

“What, you’re scared of the bears?”

He can’t see you, but he knows you’re sporting that smug grin of yours, the one he first saw when you showed him your impressive collection of Pokémon cards on your preschool’s playground. You’ll have to take a lingering silence for an answer.

“Izuku, come on. I don’t bite.”

He’s not entirely sure the sight of you won’t gnaw him to the bone, won’t melt his entire body down and leave him a hot mess. He won’t be a man anymore, just a walking flame fueled by the heavenly sight of you. No, he can’t let himself fall into that. Obviously you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

Nevertheless, you’re probably the most stubborn person he knows. And he’s friends with Katsuki Bakugou, for God’s sake. He won’t be able to get out of this as easily as he wants, especially as he hears the delicate noise of water splitting at your feet as you enter the little pond.

He slowly moves his hands off of his face. You must have your back turned to him, so maybe he can drift his eyes off somewhere—

You are in front of him, thigh deep in the water now. In nothing but your panties. Your white, flower-patterned lace panties that are doing a very bad job at covering your backside. He lets out a long, pained whine, standing in the middle of the little shore with his arms dangling down his sides, not sure what to do with them.

“Why didn’t you at least keep your bra on?” His voice comes out way more wobbly than he intended to.

You turn a little so you can look at him, and it takes every little bit of strength he’s got left to look you in the eye. But as you’re turning around, the smooth curve of your breast starts showing, and God, is that your nipple?

He wants a giant hole to swallow him right now. He wants some forest creature to come for him right this instant, anything to keep him away from you, keep him from doing things he might regret. To punish him for having such thoughts about you, because you trust him, you’re so oblivious, so innocent, and he’s so weak against this inner monster that’s eating him away.

With a little frown, you deliver the answer like it’s self-evident as you kneel into the water, the surface just above your chest:

“I didn’t want it to get wet.”

“But you’re okay with your panties getting wet?”

The realization of what he just said is slow but surely comes. And when it does, he wishes even harder to get erased from the surface of this planet he’s already lucky enough to share with you. There is a long silence, and all he can hear for a few seconds are the birds chirping and the violent pounding of his heart against his ribcage, straining to get out.

You turn back around to look at him, dumbstruck. 

“I’m more than okay with that—”

“Please forget I just said that,” he cuts you off. He’s not sure he can bear to hear more of this.

“I’m never forgetting you said that. It’s pure gold,” you scoff.

He can only answer with a drawn-out whine. He doesn’t have any choice in this, does he?

When you dive in the water, he takes both his shaking hands to the hem of his shirt and starts undressing.

What the fuck am I doing?

The water is so pure you can see underwater as clear as day: the few rocks at the bottom, the little silvery fish all around you, and the last rays of sunlight permeating through the calm surface above your head. The water feels a bit cold on your naked skin since the sunlight and summer heat must only hit the clearing at certain hours of the day. Still, the cold water isn’t enough to clear your foggy mind.

What was I thinking?

You’ve always been a bashful person, why is it changing all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the devastating effect Izuku has on you.

You try to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath. So, you’re pretty much naked in front of him. Well, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, and it (probably) won’t be the last. Now you just have to go through with your stupid idea. It’s no big deal, it’s only Izuku. Only Izuku.

Only Izuku.

Fuck.

You finally surface, not only because you can’t hide underwater forever, but also because, surprisingly, you’re not a fish, you have to actually breathe.

You push your dripping hair to the back of your head, still careful to keep your breasts under the water. Izuku’s already in to his hips when you turn around to look at him, your vision still blurry from the water trickling all over your face. He’s merciless, standing like that, only the elastic of his boxers peeking out of the water. You’re a bit surprised by the plain, black color. You were expecting something along the lines of blue, yellow and red. Izuku is full of surprises.

But nevermind the color of his underwear—what you find just above is mesmerizing. Your indiscreet, incorrigible gaze can’t help following the thin trail of hair tracing up to his navel, then the stunning lines of his abs, partly hidden behind his freckled forearms shyly crossed over them. The freckles spread up his powerful arms, gently sunkissed, scattering all over his broad shoulders.

Is he actually hiding, though? Doesn’t he know he looks like he was carved by the gods themselves?

“Have you done this before?”

The sound of his voice startles you a bit. Ah, right. You were shamelessly staring. It takes you a couple of seconds to force your distracted mind back into focus. “Done what?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s my first time. It looks like it’s yours too.” His big, bright eyes drift around like they don’t know where to look. It’s really cute.

“It is,” he admits, now kneeling into the water as well. “I would’ve thought you were used to this.” You arch a single eyebrow in an amused frown.

“What, do I look like I have a professional degree in skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s just…You look confident, it just seemed like it.”

Confident? You’re nowhere near confident—you’re terrified. You try to keep your cool, but it’s probably the first time you’re putting on an act in front of Izuku.

“Well, you’re not so bad at it yourself.” You don’t miss the little blush coating his cheeks at that. “Also, I’m not exactly naked.”

“You’re not exactly dressed either, that’s a...v-very small piece of clothing.” He’s blushing a bit harder, looking away.

“Oh, seems like you paid some attention to my piece of clothing then, good to know.”

Now he’s quite simply scarlet. A very cute, very hot, freckled tomato. He’s so easily flustered, it only makes you want to tease him some more.

“Were your legendary All Might boxers in the dirty hamper? That’s a shame. I’m a bit disappointed,” you say in a mockingly innocent voice.

He doesn’t retort, simply stands there on his knees, shooting you an unreadable look and a little pout. After a few seconds, you open your mouth to continue, only to be startled by a strong splash hitting you in the face.

When you snap out of your shock, hair and face dripping all over your shoulders, you look up at him with what must be the scariest look of betrayal. Or the most ridiculous, apparently, since he starts laughing, louder and louder, and can’t seem to stop.

“Oh, you’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?” You can’t help but chuckle while talking, his laugh is so contagious.

“I am, yeah!” he manages to articulate, only starting to calm down.

As the calm of the forest returns, you watch his eyes go back to their usual round shape bit by bit, his face relaxing again. His smile causes butterflies to fly up and around in a whirlwind deep into your belly. You chuckle a bit at the feeling, almost embarrassed by how he’s making you feel like you’re in some dumb, cliche rom-com movie. On the outside, you must look a bit like a maniac, but he’s a nice guy, so he simply asks, “What is it?”

And before you can overthink yourself out of it, you’re hurling yourself at him. He barely has the chance to stutter a weak, “Wait!” before you’re putting all your weight on him, sinking his head deep in the water. Izuku may well be a nice guy, but you know he isn’t going to let you get away with this, so you’re not surprised when you’re dragged underwater by your legs. He lets go immediately, a bit abruptly, even, like it burnt his hands to touch you.

You both emerge from the water soon, and it takes you a second to get rid of the water blurring your vision, but then it hits you. How tantalizingly close you are to each other now, your bodies an inch away from touching. You’re both on your knees, enveloped in the coolness of crystal clear water and the reflections of the canopy of leaves above your heads. A spark of electricity makes you freeze on the spot; you’re so close to him your breasts slightly brush against his chest.

After a little eternity, you find the courage to look up at his face. He looks mindblowing, really. Despite the two decades you spent together, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen the pure, astonishing details of his freckles from this close. You would remember it, you definitely would. It’s a spectacular view, one of those visual memories that comes back to hit you in flashes. His nose and cheekbones are covered in them, drawing a mesmerizing pattern, more complex than the Milky Way itself. They’re an uncrackable equation, like a weird quirk of nature that you’ll never understand but don’t question anyway. They spread a little more scattered, but still very present, up to his forehead and down to his delicate jaw.

And his eyes—you could just drown in them. There’s this bright, blinding light there that feels like laying in the grass and looking up at the sunlight coating the leaves of this tree, the one you grew up near and always played under.

You swear you didn’t move, neither did he, and still you manage to get even closer to him. Now it’s you against the inexorable attraction that pulls you towards him like a fierce magnet. And it’s a losing battle, you think, as you’re both entering each other’s personal space like you share just one.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he can’t look you in the eye, seemingly too obsessed with your lips. You drop your gaze to his and find them calling for you. It’s been so long, now the thought of kissing Izuku seems unfamiliar despite being ever-present in your imagination for so many years. Like repeating a word so much it ends up becoming a series of meaningless sounds to your confused mind.

He’s the one who finally closes the distance, his lips landing on yours so softly you can barely feel them. He doesn’t move, simply content with the contact. You’re both eight years old again for a minute. The kiss feels like the little peck a kid would finally give to his crush in the middle of their school’s playground before running away to his friends.

Time seems to stop for God knows how long, and after what feels like no time and forever all at once, his lips move hesitantly against yours, bringing you back to reality. Right then, it all crashes on you like a tremendous wave. The distant echo of your mothers’ voices from the kitchen and the stupid cartoons they made you watch so they could talk for ten more minutes. The games alone together because no one wanted to play with you two weirdos. The piggyback rides, the dumb jokes, the video games (you always won). The neverending texting sessions at night because one of you couldn’t sleep. The fights that never lasted long enough to see the next sunrise because you both are way too weak for each other. All those stupid places that wouldn’t have looked half as breathtaking if it weren’t for him.

His lips are soft but roughly bitten. Hot and wet from the water and maybe from something else. He doesn’t taste like anything other than home, and that’s more than enough for you. His hands went up to cup your face at some point, but you’re too drowned in all the feelings coming up to the surface to pay attention to anything other than his soft mouth pressing on yours, more and more, opening up—

And it’s already over. You only notice that you’ve closed your eyes when you open them again when you don’t feel anything against your mouth other than the summer air. When your mind manages to regain any sense of function, the blurry focus of your gaze settles on his eyes. Wide open. Pupils eating up the dazzling viridian that puts the forest to shame. And a terrified expression in them.

He’s looking at you like he hurt you. His lips should still be on yours, kissing and sucking, not frozen like they are right now, obviously trying to express something painful as a few weak sounds pass their barrier before he finally manages to speak:

“Oh—Oh my God, I-I’m s—”

You don’t let him finish his stupid sentence. You don’t think twice before you take his face in your hands and lean in to kiss him again, with shameless intent this time. No more pretending—you’ve been waiting long enough for this and apparently, so has he.

It’s nothing gentle this time when your mouths crash against each other, teeth clashing and lips bruising under the weight of twenty years. You hold to his face like a lifeline, fingers sinking just a bit into his cheekbones, the tip of your nails getting caught in the knots of his dripping hair just above his ears. It’s messy, your noses rubbing before he angles his face better. One of his hands loops around your waist in a tight grip, forcing your chest to crush against his, the other burying in your hair at the base of your skull.

The feeling is electrifying, indescribable. It’s nothing like the pale, miserable depiction of your imagination. It’s discovering life in color when all you’ve always known was black and white.

The water is cool, but his body scorches against yours, burns your skin in the most exquisite way. The kiss is desperate on both parts, but neither of you is confident. His lips suck on yours with tentative motions, and you respond in kind the best you can. They are hungry, starving for flesh but don’t know how to hunt.

Your hands are gripping more and more of his hair, pulling harder, sending waves of heat all the way down his groin, and he’s not sure he can hide the bulge growing there for much longer.

He has to be sure, he has to be absolutely certain you want this as much as he does, because once he starts, he may not be able to stop. But you feel so good, all pressed against him. Your skin feels so soft under his hand at the small of your back he has to dig his nails in the skin of your waist so he doesn’t cross a line. But the curve just above your ass is begging for him to grip at the tender flesh and squeeze, fill his hands with it. He’s been dreaming about this for so long.

No, he can’t just hurl himself at you like a hunting wolf the first chance he gets—what kind of friend does that?

It takes him every bit of focus he has left to break the kiss, to part away from you. You have to discuss this, he can’t just throw away twenty years of friendship! Now you’re looking up at him with puppy eyes saying, ‘Why won’t you play with me?’ He breathes out a shaky sigh, and begins:

“Um, look. Believe me when I say I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time, and I love you so, so much. As a friend, I mean.” He sees you frown at this, catches a glint of something he doesn’t like in your eyes, then panics. “No, no, no, I mean, a-as a friend, but also more than that, o-obviously. But I don’t know what you want, you might be...d-disappointed, or...um—” His face starts heating up like it hasn’t in ages. He takes another breath, tries to clear up the muddled mess happening in his head. “Look, I just want the best for you, but you look...good, very good, and you’re making things very difficult for me, doing...this—”

“Izuku.” The deafening hubbub filling his mind falls suddenly silent, your voice a comforting, steady rock for him to cling to when his mind is storming out of control.

“Yeah?”

You get even closer to him, since he gradually set some distance while mumbling his anxious thoughts out again. You cup his face in your hands, a gentle, featherlight touch, and look up at him with determination in your eyes. You pull his head down a bit to settle on yours, your foreheads and noses connected, never breaking eye contact. Your lips graze over his, both your breaths mixing there, your voice a quiet whisper as you speak again. “Do you want me?”

Out of the jittery mess of his mind, the answer comes out like evidence, plain and simple: “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

You take action immediately, kissing him once again and this time he doesn’t hesitate to put his—still rather shaky—hands on you. The feeling of you is addicting, pushing his insecurities further in the back of his mind. He starts at your waist, running his thumbs there, feeling the goosebumps rising on your skin. They wander up your spine, counting every single bump of your bones, all the way to your nape. Then dragging them back down to settle on your hips, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. The little sigh you breathe on his lips causes an impressive amount of blood to run straight to his dick. 

Your mouth is distracting, dizzying, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping playfully. His tongue slides over your lips, then against your own when you open up immediately for him. You’re pressing against him even more, your breasts rubbing against his naked chest and he swears you’re going to be the death of him. You’re hanging from his shoulders by now, your arms circling his neck, still gripping a handful of green hair, pulling. You have to stop doing this—he might cum right away. He doesn’t say it aloud, only lets a moan escape him into your mouth.

He wanted this, wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, it’s beyond everything he could have imagined. The heat of your skin, the weight on his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath in his mouth, your little sighs.

He’s only now noticing that his hands have gone to reach their destination with a mind of their own. They’re on your ass underwater, feeling the white, wet lace, the sole cloth on your entire body—that thing is just there to tempt him. He’s unsure if you like what he’s doing until you release a whimper, louder this time, enough to send a vibration against his mouth (and straight to his cock at the same time).

Suddenly, he wants to taste a lot more of you. You’re all open up to him for the first time—he has to. He trails a series of open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, savoring every little sigh escaping your lips, then to your neck, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat.

The water is fresh all over you, and he doesn’t miss the shivers running up and down your skin at the contact of the twilight breeze. He needs to warm you up, needs to make you feel good, needs everything to be perfect for you. With his hands still on your ass, he trails lower down to your collarbone, allowing some occasional nips on the way that have you shaking. He freezes, looking up at you from there.

“Is this okay?”

The answer comes out breathy, a little desperate: “Yes, yes, please!” It sends a wave of heat all over him, the way you like what he’s doing to you, the way he’s making you feel good.

He’s not experienced or anything, only had a few hookups a couple of times, so he’s not very confident in his capacities, aside from running his hands all over you because that’s how his instincts are manifesting. You know him better than anyone—of course you would know how lost he could be in this kind of situation. But he also knows you’re not much more experienced than him, and that thought is comforting.

He’s experienced in one thing, though. He feels like the worst, filthiest person on the planet for this, but it’s astonishing the number of times he jerked off to the thought of what’s happening right now. How many times did he fuck his hand in the shower thinking about the water trickling down your skin, about licking it off your breasts all the way up to your neck.

So he does what he’s been dying to do for years. your breasts are just above the surface, so he sits on his heels and licks down your chest. When his tongue finally reaches your nipple, giving it a tentative lick, you let out a gasp, encouraging him to get bolder. And he does, closing his mouth on it like it’s the sweetest lollipop; it’s all cold and hard and raised from the water, but it warms up really quickly against the furnace of his mouth. His right hand leaves your ass to cup the neglected other, running his thumb against the bud, squeezing the flesh. That’s when you reach out to bury a hand in his hair, and pull again. God, you can pull on his hair all day and night like this; he’ll never get enough.

His left hand, still on your ass, rises up to the small of your back, feeling you arching more and more, pushing against his mouth. A harder nip has you gasping and he lets his hands run all over you, wandering without direction. It’s messy and urgent; he can’t help it—you feel so good, so soft under his hands. He’s like a kid getting to open his Christmas gifts in the morning after an endless, sleepless night waiting for Santa.

You trail your hand down his chest and his abdomen, a gentle reminder that the power he holds right now could slip through his fingers any moment. He’s willing to give it to you, especially since he doesn’t really know what to do next.

Like you just read his mind, you take his hands in yours, stopping their chaotic race. He’s feeling himself flush a bit—was he going too fast for you? Did he scare you? Or did he just let himself become overwhelmed by his feelings and it didn’t feel good for you? His eyes are looking down directly at your naked chest, he realizes he never took a proper look at them, too busy throwing himself to taste them. They look just as good as they taste, as beautiful as the rest of you.

Tentatively, he raises his eyes to find your reassuring gaze and fond smile. You lead his hands down slowly, setting them on your hips, over the criminal lace fabric preserving your modesty. Your foreheads connect again, but you never break eye contact. Lacing your fingers together, you guide his thumbs into the elastic on both sides, and now that he gets what you’re trying to do, his mind just stops.

Your voice is barely a whisper, a mesmerizing caress on his lips when you speak again. “I think I’ve waited long enough, Zuku.”

Your tone is fond, but you sound so desperate, it’s unbearably cute. His mind fogs up, the smoke of your words filling his skull and he wants to drive you as mad as you drive him. Sure, you’ve waited a lot, but so has he. He isn’t going to rush this, not if he has any say in it.

He slides your panties down your thighs underwater inch by inch. It’s even too slow for him; right now he just wants to rip the stupid piece of lace off of you and fuck you and him both stupid in the water, hard and fast. But even more than that, he wants to take his time with you, wants to take you apart piece by piece. And the testy whine it elicits from you makes it all so worth it.

You shift a bit so he can take your underwear completely off and, in a second, it lays abandoned on the sandy ground of the shore. Just knowing you’re now completely naked in front of him, it sends boiling desire flowing through every single vein in his body. He can’t see that part of you yet, the water darkening along with the sky clouding his view beneath the surface, but nightfall can’t do anything about Izuku’s wild imagination. He’s dizzy, feeling himself slowly falling into a half-conscious daze, but you anchor him right where you are, bringing him back to the reality of your arms hooked around his neck.

He rests his hands on your hips, dragging his fingertips down the soft flesh of them. The idea of touching you down there is making his head spin, he can’t wait any longer.

“Can I—”

“Yes, I want your fingers inside me,” you say before driving your lips back against his.

Without further ado, one of them goes straight to your core, making you jump a bit, breaking the kiss just for a second. He runs his index between your folds, feeling hot slick already coming out of you despite the fresh water around. His touch is light, slow, hesitant as it glides up and down, testing the waters. He’s getting a bit further, putting a bit more pressure with every stroke and earning a few pleased sighs from your heavenly mouth.

He expected a sudden reaction as soon as he found your clit, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for the drawn-out moan coming out of your gorgeous lips, wet from his mouth and from your dip earlier. He wants to hear that again, every day for the rest of his life. He drags his thumb over it, again and again, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker, and your voice grows louder with every speed-up of his finger.

Your hands go frantic over him, running up his chest and down his abs in repeated motions that feel a lot like it’s lust driving your limbs much more than your mind. You stopped kissing him at some point, your mouth too busy expressing every ounce of pleasure you felt to focus on such basic motions. Your face is buried in his neck, your hot breath crushing against his skin.

He presses his index inside, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing, trying not to hurt you, that he doesn’t notice the shift of your own hand leaning down until he feels it cupping the painful bulge in his boxers. His eyes go wide with a gasp, and when he looks at you, you already have a playful, but intense, gaze piercing right through him.

“Did you think I was gonna let you play all on your own, Zuku?” Your fingers graze over the soaked fabric, down his entire length and to his balls, throwing gasoline on the fire that’s been consuming him for ages. “Don’t be selfish,” you whisper directly in his ear as your hands slip his underwear down his thighs.

As soon as the piece of cloth gets to join your forgotten panties on the shore, you wrap your pretty hand around him. And when you start stroking, his eyes roll so hard he swears he can see the inside of his skull. It feels better than he ever could have imagined; it’s blistering, astonishing. The only idea his brain can manage to work out right now is that he wants you to feel just as good.

He only notices now that his fingers stopped moving, and they go right back to a steady pace, but it’s a matter of seconds before he drives another finger into you. Soon, you’re both fucking the life out of each other with your hands. You’re sucking and nipping at his ear, and every single moan he draws out of you ends up turning against him, breaking into the defenses he built year after year by your side. He’s simply fucking into your hand now. He can’t help it, you feel so good. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’s going to feel like to fuck into your tight little cunt, he might cum hard just from the thought of it.

The spongy spot he finds inside you feels like he just struck gold. It’s glorious, the sounds you make right now, higher, louder. You’re tightening around his fingers, but it’s okay—you can crush them for all he cares. He wants you to moan higher for him, wants you to keep riding his fingers like your life depends on it.

“Izuku, ah—I’m close, I’m so close, please…”

“I got you, baby. I got you, shit—”

He quickens the pace again, feels like his fingers are gonna fall off his hand the moment he gets them out of you, but fuck, what his princess wants, his princess is gonna get. Your orgasms shatter the both of you to pieces, and in the bliss of his high, he can hear some birds flying away, scared by the harmonious, but probably very loud, song of your combined moans.

While his cum strikes out by ropes into the water, his clouded mind can only think about one thing.

He needs more of you.

You can barely stand on your knees, worn out from cumming the hardest you have in your entire life. You actually have to lean on Izuku so you don’t fall into the water head first like some boneless ragdoll. You just let your forehead rest on his shoulder and count the freckles there, splattered in a fascinating work of abstraction.

But apparently, he has other plans. You’re swiftly lifted up and out of the water, huge scarred hands firmly holding the back of your thighs that immediately come to circle his waist.

“Oh, nice. I don’t mind getting carried around like a baby. Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he says with a little grin, walking out of the water. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone, one you’re not used to hearing out of Izuku’s angel mouth.

“I think I can manage, yeah.”

He drops you to stand on your legs, and immediately goes for his backpack. The sun has just set, its last rays of light filling the pink sky over your heads. You can still easily make out everything around you, and Izuku’s body is no exception.

You’re watching him with a raised eyebrow, letting your shameless gaze follow every curve you couldn’t see underwater. The day he started exercising in high school was the day you knew it was over for you. It was the day you couldn’t deny what you felt anymore, you couldn’t deny your best friend was everything you needed, and everything you wished for. The physical factor was only a—very pleasant— addition to the list of things that made you fall hard for Izuku Midoriya.

Your eyes linger over his impressive figure, staring at the dimples at the small of his back. You always knew they were here, but you never allowed yourself to look at them, to imagine how they would grow repeatedly hollow with every thrust of his hips into you.

He finally digs out what he was looking for: a plaid picnic blanket, because of course he would have one in there. He’s wearing a little victorious smile when he stands and turns around to spread it on a grassy spot that looks a lot more comfortable than the hard ground. He turns back to you but averts his gaze to the side, hardly looking directly at you for more than a second at a time. The heat of his gaze tracing your curves through quick glances pools deep in your core. 

“You know you can look, right?” You sure aren’t refraining from doing so after all.

His face reaches its usual redness—hasn’t he learned anything from making you cum like crazy with just his fingers? It’s cute nonetheless; Izuku will never change.

He doesn’t answer your rhetorical question, only gives you a shy command in that tentative, very cute voice of his.

“Could you lay down on this for me?”

You saw this coming, but still, you’re a bit surprised he’s asking you that out loud. You gladly oblige with your legs pressed together, slightly bent. It’s another golden opportunity to tease him a bit:. “This isn’t exactly the right use for this blanket. Aren’t we supposed to eat on this?”

He smiles at the ground while kneeling at your feet.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Your sly smile fades away. His tone is a contradictory mix of shyness and determination, so it’s a bit confusing but also unbearably hot—you swear an astounding wave of heat is crashing through your deepest parts, untouched, just from some words and a funny tone. You rub your thighs together before he grabs and parts them to slip himself between them.

He crawls over you and leans down to kiss you, a bit more confident than earlier. His hips are pressing between your legs, where you can feel his hardness best.

He’s rutting more and more against you as the kiss intensifies. You could think it’d be a lot less exciting now that you know he’s going to eat you out, there’d be no suspense. Wrong. The little shit apparently likes to tease you to death, because he left your lips to kiss your face, nip at your neck, suck at your ears. Dragging his devilish hands everywhere, pressing harder each time you get louder. An especially heavy whine makes him buck hard, his mouth back against yours.

“The more impatient you get, the slower it’s gonna be,” he murmurs against your lips, and starts to make his way down to where you want him, kissing every inch of you, clouding your mind with desire. It’s way too much and still not enough; it’s maddening. When he finally reaches down, you’re on the verge of a second orgasm like you hadn’t just come down a few minutes ago.

He’s holding your thighs apart in a firm grip. Just the touch of his fingers burns your skin deliciously, and the look he’s giving you from between your legs...his eyes are clouded, half-lidded, looking at the part of you he’s never gotten to see before. It feels like he’s been looking forever and just a second at the same time.

He finally dips into you, leaving butterfly kisses all over your inner thighs, punctuated by little nips, nuzzling the soft skin. He’s not looking you in the eye anymore, his gaze lingering all over your body—all over except for your face. You can make out a slight blush on his cheeks despite the dimness all around. You know him better than anyone, so you immediately recognize what’s going on in his mind just from the slightest hint in his eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a battle against himself, his shyness against his hunger. And you know who you’re both rooting for.

He finally gives in, and it takes your breath away. A single, slight lick on your clit and you’re gone. And the next ones, more and more intense, more and more hungry, push you further to tumble over your edge. He grunts into your heat, multiple times. Moans like he’s the one squirming under your mouth.

His hands hold a firm grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh and keeping you in place—he doesn’t even give you an inch to move. You can only take and take and take. But you still have the luxury of your free hands, and they rush to bury in the knots of his messy wet curls, your nails dragging, scratching his scalp.

His lips close on your clit and suck just a bit, and before you can refrain, you pull on his hair, hard. He gasps, and the moment you think you hurt him, he breathes his loudest moan, right into you. You’re filled with the vibrations—they spread all over your body, have you throwing your head back, trembling from head to toe.

The louder you are, the hungrier he gets, filling you with his insatiable tongue. You have to look at him right now. And you expected quite a show, but you certainly weren't prepared to see this—him rutting against the ground like an animal. You realize he’s getting off just from your taste, just from eating you out. His hips roll repeatedly, making you salivate just to the thought of those same hips bucking into yours, fucking you into oblivion. And the more he ruts, the louder he gets.

Now if he wants to moan, you’re going to give him a good reason to. 

You hint for him to face you with a light tug on his hair. As soon as he’s back up, he dives in to kiss you. You don’t let him. In a second he’s on his back with you seated on his hips.

“What did I say about letting you play on your own, hm?”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look is so cute on him. And the rest is a marvel to look at. You’re straddling him and he has no other choice than to let you devour him with your eyes—not that he couldn’t bounce you off of him with just a thrust of his hips, but he already would have if he wanted to. You let your gaze wander mindlessly over him—it’s surreal. There’s no way he’s actually under you, waiting for you to please him back with his mouth and jaw still shining with your juices. It has to be a dream—it’s always been after all.

You shift so you’re straddling his parted thighs. You can finally take a look at him. The whole thing, that is. His cock is resting against his lower stomach, hard and swollen and thick. It’s a pretty, bright pink, shining with pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters just at the sight of it.

He’s looking down at you, his face as flushed as his dick, that usual blush still exquisitely coating his freckles. You take him in your hand, dive in to give a lick to the tip and his head falls back down with a whimper. You let your tongue drag over the whole length on the underside, and your lips close around the tip in a wet smooch. His hips jerk up a bit, startling you.

You finally take him whole in your mouth, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you. You start bobbing up and down, going a bit further each time, earning a series of shameless moans because this boy is loud. You expected him to express himself during sex since he’s such a mumbler—and frankly, it was always one of your biggest fantasies, hearing him come undone because of you, lose any sense of shame and self-restriction when he’s such a anxious person otherwise.

But you could’ve thought about it every night and day and still never be ready for this. It’s sinful. His hand goes to grab your hair just like you did to him, and now you get why he liked it so much. The feel of his nails scratching your scalp is electrifying, soothing and destructive at the same time.

Your tongue hits a precise spot just under the tip and he jerks up again, nearly screams, “Fuck—yes, right there, please—d-do that again!”

And you do, you can only oblige—he asked so nicely. Your lips go up and down, over and over, your tongue grazing this spot with a bit more pressure every single time. You squint over him, and what you find there is a mess. Trying so hard not to buck into your mouth but failing miserably. Sounding like he’s at Heaven’s gate.

“Easy, Zuku. You’re gonna scare the birds away,” you chuckle against him, your lips brushing the tip, dripping with your saliva and pre-cum.

“Do I need to remind you…how loud you were for me earlier?” He’s looking back down at you as he speaks, a tremble in his voice telltale of his approaching climax. “You sounded...so good, baby, I swear...wanna hear you again, wanna make you scream, just for me, fuck—”

You can feel yourself soaking the blanket, can feel the slick trickle down your folds and stain the plaid cotton. Is he aware of what he’s doing? Or is he just saying whatever is going through his chaotic mind? In any case it has you starving. So you let go of his cock and, before he can protest, crawl back to his face and kiss him desperately. Tasting both of your fluids in a mindblowing mix.

You pull back just enough to be able to speak, because you need him to understand you loud and clear when you say:  “Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I’ve waited so long. Please.”

“Okay, okay, fuck—” He cuts himself off, his eyes slightly drooping like a sad puppy. “I-I don’t have any condoms.”

“You mean you probably have pads in there for me but no condoms?” you say with your eyebrows raised, your mocking tone hinting at a teasing remark, far from criticism.

He frowns in confusion. “How do you know I have pads in there?”

“So the legend turns out to be true. After all these years—”

“Shut up, you’re impossible,” he chuckles heatlessly, resting his hands on your back.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” you assure him with a soft tone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the pill, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then clarifies, a hint of hesitation clear in his voice.

“No I mean...you’re sure you wanna do this?” He marks a brief pause, takes a short breath. “With me?”

You don’t even think before answering, it slips your mouth like it’s not even your own words: “I don’t want it with anyone else.”

There’s a silence.

“Fuck, that sounds cheesy,” you scoff, looking away.

“It does, but we’re both cheesy idiots, apparently.”

You look back at him. His smile is so fond, so loving; it melts your heart in the best way.

“I wanna be your cheesy idiot,” you say against his mouth, looking right into his eyes, willing to fall in them.

“You always have been,” he nearly whispers. It fills your stomach with familiar warmth, intense and overwhelming, comforting.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth, one of regret and lost time and God, we’re idiots.

Now it’s about time you make up for it all.

You look down at him, rolling your hips against him, dripping all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

“I think I asked you something, didn’t I?”

A whimper escapes him at the feeling. His hips buck up slightly, hands gripping at your back. When you do it again, you don’t get the chance to see his reaction; you’re on your back again, him towering over you, his thigh between your legs.

He’s looking at you with something in his eyes you don’t recognize, but the tone he speaks with has your entire body quaking.

“And you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

He holds himself over his left forearm, his hand thumbing at your cheek while the other strokes the whole length of your thigh. Your noses are brushing, your breaths crashing together. Your hands hold tight to his nape, playing with the short hair mindlessly as you’re waiting to be filled, finally.

You feel the stretch instantly. You try to focus on those mesmerizing emerald gems he calls eyes. They look right through your soul, eating you up and you barely feel the pain. He’s taking it slow, inch by inch, giving you all the time you need, caressing your cheek with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Izuku’s voice is a soothing sound over the incessant chirping of the grasshoppers. It was always one of your favorite things to hear, its every tone another blessing to your ears. It’s loving when he asks if you’re okay, comforting when he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry on his shoulder, heartening when he’s going on about anything he’s passionate about.

He’s kissing every part of skin he has access to, over your face, your jaw, your neck. You feel yourself relaxing around him, and roll your hips up to give him the hint.

When he starts moving it’s still slow and careful. He doesn’t break eye contact, so you can see his every reaction, and he can see all yours. His hand is still playing with your hair, even as his pace speeds up with every second. The weight of him over you feels amazing, it holds him close against you, countless parts of you both rubbing together: your chests, your stomachs, your thighs. He doesn’t even have a lot of space to move. But getting to touch and get touched by him like this, it's incredible. You always had him so close to you, always right there and still so out of reach.

You still need more; you’re insatiable. You need to see him come undone under you, because of you. You push him to roll on his back, and you end up straddling him, setting the pace yourself. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, taking balance on the hard planes of his abs. He immediately reaches up to grab your hips, guiding you along.

His face tenses up, frowning, his nose wrinkling, his lips parted just to let out a series of breathy sighs. He looks wrecked and dizzy and stunning. He’s keeping his eyes open, fixed up on you, specifically on your breasts, bouncing with your every motion. And you can feel his gaze on your skin just as much as you feel his hands gripping harder at the flesh below your hips.

“Eyes up here, Zuku,” you coo with two fingers pointed at your eyes.

He doesn’t answer, only sits up easily and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look so amazing, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says with a trembling voice, filled with bliss.

Your heart misses a beat at his words, they fill you with warmth and comfort because he definitely doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing to you. He delves his face into your neck, kissing and nuzzling, his breath coming shorter and shorter, crashing against your skin and his hands running all over you. The sound of his hoarse voice resonates through the forest and through your soul, echoing an enchanting song.

With little effort, he puts you back under him so he can pound into you with full force, and your legs immediately come up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands grab his hair, tugging to see if you get the same reaction as earlier, and it doesn’t miss: he lets out a groan right into your ear, speeding up his pace again.

The sky is dark now, and all you can hear are his moans and yours and the slap of your hips coming together repeatedly. Your head is thrown back when he grabs you by the hair, forcing you to turn your head and face him.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.”

“Izuku, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby. Let go for me, come on.”

Just the feel of his hand trailing down your stomach awakens something in you, this familiar pressure growing tight in your belly. And when his fingers reach your clit, a couple of strokes are enough to have you screaming his name, tightening around him, and pulling him towards his climax with you. His thrusts come franticly as you milk him dry, clawing desperately at his back, panting in his mouth as he leaned down to kiss you through both your climaxes.

As soon as he comes down, he rolls over on his side, still laying close to you, an arm thrown over you. You both take a minute to catch your breaths and, weirdly enough, you don’t hear anything aside from your panting. You really must have scared the birds away. Izuku breaks the silence first.

“Do you wanna...sleep at my place?”

He’s looking over at you and, despite the sky getting dark, you can easily imagine the blush coating his cheeks right now, like he didn’t make you scream his name, drunk on his cock two minutes ago.

You can’t repress your fond smile at his proposition.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

You take a minute to gather your clothes from all over the place and get dressed, then grab your bag to tug it over your shoulder.

“You got everything?”

Izuku is waiting for you just outside the trees. You take a quick look around, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything, and turn around without a second look at the place.

Because although it was your first time setting foot here, it definitely won’t be the last; you will come back here with Izuku every chance you get, making it your shared secret, your own little wonderland.

You gladly take the hand he’s offering, making him blush a little harder, and you head straight back into the forest together.

You walk side by side as a comfortable silence settles, only disturbed by the grasshoppers’ incessant, boisterous chirping. The sky is utterly dark now, you can make out a few stars shining above the dense trees. You walk at a steady pace, but Izuku is going a bit faster with every step. Soon enough, he’s walking a bit ahead of you, still holding your hand. Another golden occasion to tease his eagerness.

“Are we in a hurry, Zuku?”

In the dark of the night, you struggle to make out the look on his face as he turns around to look at you. A second later, he’s running, and with your hand firmly held in his, you can’t do much but try to follow along. You giggle as you run, and it quickly grows into a belly-deep laughter. He’s fast, doesn’t get tired, but you follow him anyway, probably as eager as he is. You have to zig-zag so you don’t run straight into the massive trees standing in your way.

You get to the car in no time, but you’re both out of breath when you finally get in your respective seats, ready to go home.

Izuku doesn’t even wait to catch his breath before he starts the car, the engine roaring loudly in the silence of the night, probably scaring the birds away for the upteenth time that night. You catch his happy grin in the headlights glow before he heads back into the road.

You have a feeling the night is not over; you’ve only got twenty years to make up for after all.