#hhh I loved writing this

[lokust]

Literally anything with lee!miguel orz

I’m especially fond of the miguel/peter b/mj poly dynamic but I’d happily take anything lolol

There was something up with Miguel. Something just... not quite right, and everyone closest to him had noticed it. Hobie and Noir gossiped about his attitude, while Gwen interrogated Lyla in an attempt to get to the bottom of it. Miles minded his own business, but Pavitr and Jess went to Miguel himself to question it.

Miguel was irritable- more so than usual, and he was really, really jumpy. Every little noise, every accidental touch, made him flinch or jerk away as if he was expecting something to happen, but nobody had any idea what.

He was also incredibly snappy- again... more so than usual. Every inquiry about his mental state or general unusual behavior was met with a snarky remark or a near-deadly glare. Everyone had caught attitude from Miguel throughout the day. Well, almost everyone. Everyone but Peter B.

It was no secret that Miguel had something going on with Peter and MJ. What little free time he had was spent in their universe, and the kids had caught glimpses of heart emojis and sweet messages from both Peter and MJ on Miguel's phone, but nobody ever dared say a word about it.

It was unusual for Miguel to spare Peter from his general grumpiness. For some reason, though, Miguel seemed to be an absolute mess anytime Peter was in the room. It was like he couldn't keep his eyes off of Peter, staring at him from across the room and blushing like mad. Even something as simple as the sound of the older spider's voice had Miguel a blushing, stammering mess, but all he could do was hope nobody had noticed, especially Peter.

They had all noticed, especially Peter.

Peter knew exactly what the problem was, and he was not helping.

Every time they were in the same room, Peter sneaked "accidental" touches to Miguel's sides or back. He made it a point to let Miguel know that he noticed the staring. He stared back, smirking while drumming and tapping his fingers against whatever surface he could find. He wanted Miguel to know that he knew.

Miguel was, in fact, in a lee mood. The worst lee mood he'd ever been in.

Miguel finally realized that the only way he'd get through the day without turning into pure mush was by avoiding Peter at all costs. So that was what he did. If Peter was going one way, Miguel went the other; if Miguel noticed their paths crossing, he made a beeline for the bathroom or the closest supply closet; if he walked into a room that Peter just so happened to be in, he immediately walked out in a flustered, frustrated frenzy.

But, of course, Peter noticed. For the last time that day, Miguel had found himself inside a supply closet, peeking out of it for just a moment to make sure Peter wasn't following him, and he let out a sigh of relief as he realized Peter was nowhere in sight and had probably gotten lost in the crowd.

He shut and locked the door, allowing himself a moment to relax. He closed his eyes, resting against the wall as he took deep breaths. He tried his hardest to calm himself down and get rid of the embarrassing blush that covered his entire face and traveled all the way to the tips of his ears.

He sighed once more before taking a deep breath, "Come on, Miguel. Keep it together…”, he said to himself before pushing himself off the wall and opening the door, peaking out one last time before deciding it was safe.

Unfortunately, just as he opened the door, he heard the unmistakable ‘thwip’ of a web shooter, and the door was shut again, white webs covering the knob. Miguel's eyes widened as he stood completely still, blood rushing to his cheeks as his heart started beating nearly out of his chest.

"Turn around”, said the voice behind him, and slowly, Miguel turned around.

There he was, Peter B. Parker, hanging upside down from a web with that goofy smirk. Miguel looked up and mentally kicked himself as he noticed the open vent in the ceiling.

Miguel opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, to try to explain the situation away, but Peter beat him to it, "It’s been awfully hard for me to catch up to you today, Miguel~”, he sing-songed, looking around the small room as he did so “That’s alright, though! I enjoyed our little game of Cat and Mouse”, Peter said before dropping from his web and inching closer to the adorably flustered spider in front of him. "Care to explain why exactly we were playing?", he asked, his voice dropping slightly as he raised one eyebrow.

Peter loved this: toying with Miguel and watching the usually stoic spider crumble into a bashful mess. Even more than watching it happen, he loved knowing that he was the reason.

Miguel's throat went dry as he looked for an explanation, stammering over the beginning of his sentence, “I-I, uh, I don't- I have.. n-no idea what you're talking about. I was just- I came in here to-“

"To hide from me?", Peter teased, stepping even closer to Miguel. Miguel had backed up against the door, his chest nearly against Peter's. "You can't hide from me forever~", he said, placing his hand on Miguel's side and gently drumming his fingers.

Miguel swallowed nervously, his eyes widening as he looked down at Peter's hand and then back up at Peter. He tensed his muscles and bit his lip, preparing himself for the inevitable, but... nothing ever came.

They stood just like that, in total silence, for about half a minute, That teasing smirk never leaving Peter’s face, and Peter’s gaze never leaving Miguel.

Thirty seconds had never felt longer, and Miguel thought surely he would combust as his eyes darted nervously around the small room before finally landing on Peter again. Peter chuckled and rolled his eyes fondly, deciding to give Miguel a break. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna get you”, he said, ruffling Miguel's hair as the younger sighed in relief, “Not yet anyways."

Miguel's eyes widened again as he looked at Peter. That was just cruel. To get him all worked up for it.. and then take it away.

“That was a fun game, my little Spider-Mouse!” Peter said with a giddy laugh, patting Miguel’s cheek gently, "We'll deal with you later. See ya at home, my love!", he said happily before turning around, flicking his wrist at the open vent and hoisting himself back into it, but before he could leave, he was interrupted as Miguel uttered just one word.

“We?”, he repeated, his heart rate increasing as he looked at Peter incredulously. Peter giggled as he peered down at Miguel, nodding and bringing his phone into view, the screen facing Miguel.

“Oh, did I forget to mention that?”, he asked, still smiling from ear to ear, “I texted MJ! Had to let her know about your current condition.”, and sure enough, Miguel caught a glimpse of the few messages Peter had sent MJ over the course of the day.

Peter smiled triumphantly as he saw the look of realization cross Miguel’s face, and he quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Now, I’ll leave you to sit with that information for as long as you need, buddy! I’ll see ya at home- er, we’ll see you at home! Love ya!”, and with that, Peter was gone.

As Miguel stood there in utter disbelief, he finally snapped out of his flustered trance, allowing himself to sink down against the wall and bury his head in hands.

'This is gonna be a long day...'

It was a long day, and Lyla had to pull him out of a smiley daze more times than he’d like to admit. He just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining the trouble he’d be in when he got to Peter’s place, the way they’d tickle him to pieces, expertly targeting each and every little tickle spot, how they’d tease him…

He couldn’t wait for the end of the day, when he’d finally be able to leave, but once the time finally rolled around, he found himself too nervous to even leave his office.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”, Lyla said as she suddenly appeared, projecting on his desk.

Miguel jumped and hissed at the sudden noise, blushing when he realized it was just Lyla. He cleared his throat awkwardly and sat up straight in his chair, furrowing his eyebrows, “W-What are you talking about?”, he asked, trying to be inconspicuous.

Lyla quirked an eyebrow, propping her hand on her hip and tilting her head, “You really gonna make me text him and tell him to come get you? Is that what you want?”, she asked, not even a hint of a joke in her tone.

Miguel huffed, taken aback by Lyla’s threat as he stared at her with furrowed brows. With a few incoherent grumbles, Miguel stood, still glaring daggers at Lyla. Using his watch, he opened a portal directly to Peter’s house.

His hands shook nervously as he felt his face already heating up. He tried to contain the bashful grin tugging at his lips, but it was no use as he stood in front of the portal. He knew what awaited him on the other side. He knew there was no avoiding it. For a minute or so, Miguel simply stood there, taking deep steady breaths and trying to calm his shaking before finally letting out one heavy sigh… and stepping through the portal.

He was tense as he stood in Peter and MJ’s kitchen, looking around the dimly lit room nervously. He saw the glow of the TV from the living room, and he could smell something sweet- like cookies baking. He took a deep breath as he slowly entered the den from the kitchen, but as he rounded the corner into the den, MJ rounded the corner as well, bumping right into Miguel.

She yelped a bit as she was unaware of his arrival, but as she looked up and saw Miguel’s blushing face, her look of surprise turned to a sweet smile, “Hi there, sweetie”, she spoke softly, her tone loving as she leaned up and kissed Miguel’s cheek, “I’m gonna take these cookies out of the oven”, she said, putting on an oven mitt that had little flower patterns all over it, “I went ahead and made you a treat for… well, after”.

Miguel’s breath hitched in his throat and he buried his face in his hands, but before he could worry himself too much with it, he heard a much louder playful voice from behind him.

“Well, honey, would you like who finally showed up!”, Peter exclaimed, picking up a cookie before hissing in pain and immediately putting it back down, “Oh wow those are hot! Hey, Miguel, we had some matters to attend, right? I think we did!”, Peter spoke quickly, a happy smile on his face as he grabbed Miguel’s wrist and immediately turned on his heels, leading Miguel through the house. “Let’s go, MJ!”

MJ stood with her arms crossed, a slight smirk on her face as she watched Peter all but drag Miguel as the younger spider turned to look at her with wide eyes that were begging for help already. She just chuckled, shaking her head and following after them fondly.

Peter opened their bedroom door and playfully pushed Miguel onto the soft mattress, laying down next to him with one of Miguel’s arms underneath him. Peter smiled at Miguel and ran a hand through his hair, “And look MJ! He must’ve gotten into these clothes before he got here. I always wondered how changing out of a holographic suit worked…”, he said, furrowing his brows a bit in thought. “The tank top’s very subtle though, certainly doesn’t make your intentions too obvious. Very inconspicuous!”. Miguel was practically scowling, but the unusual bright red color of his cheeks certainly decreased the intimidation of it.

MJ couldn’t help but laugh at the two boys as she too laid down beside Miguel and did the same as Peter, pinning one of Miguel’s arms beneath her. Miguel just huffed, his face scrunching up a bit as he turned his neck to look at MJ instead of Peter. MJ raised her eyebrows as she placed a hand on his side, gently tracing her nails up and down, “Oh, do you think I’m gonna save you from him, hun?”, she asked, leaning in a bit closer and dropping her voice to a whisper. “Not a chance, sweetheart”.

Miguel squealed and tugged at his arms a bit as MJ’s nails traveled up to his armpit, and he also wondered what on earth was going through his head when he decided to wear the tank top. Spoiler: it was this exact situation. She spidered her nails slowly and oh so lightly under his arm, watching intently as he let his head fall back against the pillow and bit his lip in an attempt to keep himself from giggling.

Peter chuckled and shook his head, “Holding out on her, hm?”, he asked teasingly as he lifted Miguel’s shirt up above his ribs. “Why don’t you see just how long that works for ya! I’ll bet twenty seconds tops.” Peter placed his hand on the very center of Miguel’s tummy and formed a claw with it. “If you win the bet, we’ll stop teasing. Deal?”

Miguel looked at Peter with wide eyes and shook his head frantically as he realized Peter’s intentions, twisting his hips in an attempt to get away from the hand on his tummy.

“Deal!” Peter said on Miguel’s behalf. “Twenty seconds starting… now!” Suddenly, Peter began digging and clawing all five fingers rapidly into Miguel’s belly, wasting no time in driving him up the wall.

Miguel let out a strained squeal and arched his back, biting his tongue to keep himself from laughing, but there just wasn’t much he could do. Within seconds, he was a blubbering mess, “NNGH! Peheheter! Peter, that’s no f-FAHAHAIR! I cahAN’T!”.

Peter cooed in mock sympathy, moving his hand a bit lower to assault Miguel’s much more ticklish lower belly. He tickled from side to side, clawing from one hip to the other over and over again, “Aww, well, that was only about two seconds. Did you misunderstand the premise of the bet?”, he asked in feigned curiosity, looking over Miguel at MJ. “Should I have been more specific?”, he asked, rapidly squeezing the little bit of pudge at Miguel’s lower tummy.

MJ chortled, shaking her head at her husband as her nails fluttered and danced oh so gently in the center of Miguel’s hollows- a total contrast to the rough tickling Peter was putting his tummy through, but the light flutters gradually became light, quick scratches, “Are you enjoying yourself?”, she asked in that soft, sweet tone. “Is this what you wanted? To come home and let us tickle all your worries away?”.

Miguel shook his head at MJ’s teasing, but his entire body tensed as he let out a squeal, Peter’s hand suddenly jumping from his hip to his armpit. Miguel arched his back as the two opposing sensations persisted: MJ’s light scratching and spidering, and Peter’s rough digging and clawing both assaulting his pits. “W-WAHAIT WAIT!”, he choked out, his face red as tears of mirth pricked at the corners of his eyes, “CAHAN’T- cahan’t tahaHAKE IT!”. He kicked his feet, clenching and unclenching his fists in hopes that it would distract from the tickling, but it was no use.

“Look at those fangs!” Peter said excitedly, “Who knew deadly weapons could be so adorable, am I right?”, he teased as his hand traveled down just a bit, squeezing and pinching at Miguel’s very top rib. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He tugged at his arms and twisted his hips, but it was all fruitless.

“Aww, Peter..”, MJ said as she slipped her hand into his tank top, raking her long nails up and down the side of his rib cage, “He said he can’t take it~”, she cooed, kneading her fingertips into the spaces between the bones.

Miguel’s laughter raised in pitch and volume, and there was nothing he could do to ease the maddening sensation. If he twisted his body to the right, he only brought himself closer to MJ’s long nails, but if he twisted himself to the left, Peter was right there, cooing about how he must love it since he’s trying to get closer.

As evil as they seemed to be, both MJ and Peter were in absolute awe as they teased and toyed with the man below them, admiring his blushing face and adorable giggles. Miguel squealed, his eyes shut tight as he squirmed. The two of them looked up at each other, both smiling as they gave a silent acknowledgment of their adoration for Miguel.

“Cant take it, hm?” Peter asked, tweaking up and down Miguel’s rib cage, vibrating a clawed hand into it after delivering a couple teasing pinches and pokes. “What about this? Is this any better for you?”, he asked, knowing damn well he’d just made it ten times worse.

Miguel’s eyes shot open at the sudden sensation of five fingers vibrating against the front of his rib cage while MJ’s nails danced up and down the side of his ribs. He couldn’t take it. “NAHAHA! STOPSTOPSTOHOHOP! MJ, HEHEHELP! M-Mahahake him stOHOP!”, he pleaded, tugging desperately at his arms. He needed to get away, but he couldn’t, and he really didn’t want to, but he thought certainly they’d tickle him to tears. He tried to take a deep breath through his loud belly laughter in an attempt to ease the sensation as he thought there was certainly no way it could get any more ticklish.

Oh, how wrong he was.

MJ giggled and shook her head, kissing his cheek, “You know I can’t do that, sweetie. You waited all day for this, why would I stop him now?”, she asked, only half teasing him. He had waited all day, and they were definitely making up for it, but suddenly, MJ’s nails latched onto his lowest rib, and a loud hiss sounded through the room in unison with a couple yelps as Miguel’s loud laughter turned to frantic giggles. It took him a moment to realize the tickling had stopped, his two partners looking down at him with wide eyes and smug grins. As he calmed down, he looked up at them, still giggling a bit, “W-Whahat is it?”, he asked, his face flushed red as he looked between the two of them.

MJ giggled, tilting her head as she spoke, “You hissed at us!”, she said, playfully feigning anger. Miguel’s eyes widened, realization hitting him like a train as he hurried to apologize, but he couldn’t get the words out before Peter was chiming in.

“That you did! And not to mention..”, Peter sat up, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding down at Miguel’s hand, “You stabbed us! Stabbed us both right in the back! What do you have to say for yourself, mister?”, he asked with a pout. It was clear neither of them were actually upset with him, but that didn’t stop him from feeling tremendously guilty.

Miguel gasped as he looked at his own hand, his claws now fully on display. He pulled his now free hand to his side, doing the same with the other as MJ sat up as well, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”, he said, stammering over his apology as he hurried to get it out, “Did I hurt you guys? Are either of you bleeding? I really didn’t mean to, I promise! I just- it.. it-”, Miguel trailed off, unable to finish his sentence as he looked down at his hands.

“It tickled?”, MJ offered, smiling at him as she slipped her hand under his shirt, scratching gently up and down his back. He shivered a bit at the feeling of her long nails against his back, but thankfully, her touch was firm enough not to send him into a giggling fit. He really was too ticklish for his own good.

He blushed, curling in on himself and hiding his face in his hands. They knew there was no way he’d answer that, but thankfully, Peter answered for him, “It did! Like crazy probably, but he’s Spiderman”, he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure it was no problem for him at all!”

Miguel whined, shooting a glare at Peter before suddenly finding himself pinned down again. This time by webs that trapped his wrist against the headboard. He felt the familiar flutter in his tummy as he tugged at his wrists, “Hey! What are you doing? I-I thought we were done!”

Peter just laughed, tilting his head in confusion, “You thought we were done? Oh no! We were just getting started!”, he said as he and MJ both repositioned. Peter straddled Miguel’s hips, smiling down at him innocently while lifting his shirt up. MJ sat on his shins, facing Peter’s back. “And after all, you did scratch us… On purpose or not, I think that’s worthy of a punishment. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Miguel’s eyes widened as it struck him why they had pinned him in the way that they did, and he shook his head, “N-No! It was an accident, I couldn’t control it!”, he said, huffing a bit and glaring at Peter. “If anything, it was your fault that you got scratched!”

MJ tutted as she suddenly dragged her nails down his thighs. He absolutely should not have worn shorts. “That’s a shame… this could’ve been so much easier on you if you’d just taken responsibility..”.

Before he could protest any further, Peter’s hands were clawed and poised above his tummy, fingers wiggling as those hands got closer and closer, while MJ continued to drag and scrape her nails up and down every muscle and curve of his thighs.

“Remind me, my tickly little spider. Your worst spots are your belly, and your thighs, right?”, Peter asked, a small innocent smile tugging at his lips. Miguel couldn’t even try to conceal his nervous smile, and there was no point in trying to suppress his anticipatory giggles.

Peter’s hands were so close, Miguel swore he could already feel them.

“You ready, Miguel?”

________________

Ummm I GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY SO… THERE’S GONNA BE A PART TWO HSBSHSKL

@tickles-tea I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS BECAUSE I PUT MY WHOLE HEART IN IT😭

[hbdttg]

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

[nctsworld]

a neo a day keeps the feelings at bay [76/∞] 

[bears-are-my-favourite-colour]

Thoughts stuck on Halsin and Astarion sharing a tent while they have Yenna about and Halsin waking up to see Astarion absolutely zonked out on his chest.

He looks near breathtaking during the day, but like this, he looks downright gorgeous. Hair loose from it's grease leaving it a curly birdsnest, drool drying on his chin (and by extension Halsin's chest). Astarion not being an attractive sleeper but by the gods is he beautiful.

Halsin running his finger tips along the edge of Astarion's ear, enjoying how it flicks and the way it makes Astarion huff and rub his face into Halsin.

The rising sun peaking into the tent and bathing Astarion in warm hues.

[felassan]

prayer moodboard for a Season 2 of Dragon Age: Absolution

[mlmgaze]

daniel waking up to marius kinda starting to press into him and, after getting his bearings, his first move is to ask sleepily if marius had another dream about daniel getting hurt. marius says no, and after a second daniel asks if marius had a dream about armand getting hurt. and marius just freezes (because of course obviously that's what it is because marius dreamed again about armand going into the sun and he wants to feel comforted and reassured but armand isn't here and daniel is and daniel is still blood of his blood and *i am dragged away by the guards)

[goatpunches]

a touch of honey

Relationships: Zhuzhi-lang / Gongyi Xiao

Tags: Modern AU, Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, Background Tianxi

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Zhuzhi-lang is trying to make it as a writer, but his life is interrupted by a certain (annoyingly handsome) barista at his favorite coffee spot. It doesn't help when his friends and family seem intent on setting the two of them up.

Zhuzhi-lang frowns. “What?” This wasn’t part of the routine and he feels thrown off. The barista says something again, smiling and pointing at his face. Zhuzhi-lang sighs and takes his headphones off, nearly getting a migraine at the sudden influx of noise. “What?” He asks again. His eyes flit over the form of the barista, taking him in. He has dark hair tied up in a ponytail without a lock out of place, sleeves perfectly cuffed, and a clean-cut air that verges on unrealistic. He reminds Zhuzhi-lang of the protagonists in Tianlang-jun’s dramas whose appearances were signaled by slow-mo pans, showing off their perfect teeth and sparkling eyes. Zhuzhi-lang tries his best not to sneer. How annoying.

You can read it here!

[oblivions-dawn]

𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊; 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖟𝖊; 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖞 𝖌𝖆𝖟𝖊;

[kodared]

Eek sneak peek !!!

Im actually really enjoying coming back to writing, especially after working my trechorous night shift at spencers... hhh...

I love my job i really do! But i like writing and laying in bed being snug as a bug in a rug just a bit more

Got alot done for this chapter today! looking to have atleast the first ending posted by the beginning of next week!

[dreamerdrop]

One of my hobbies is taking characters from dating sims and romance games who are all meant to be paired solely with the player character and shipping them with each other instead.

[coridallasmultipass]

well one of family never ends' author's other fics is the epilogue of course ;) but ipgd also wrote people don't do that (alphacest), homestuck watches boku no pico, and like the first uucest fic

YAASS OMG.

ANON.

Thank you.

Deeply and truly thank you. Saved me a real pain. It was People Don't Do That. Gonna reread it ASAP. I don't remember if I read the uucest one, but I powered thru a lot of fics while I was sick in Jan, and I don't remember like 90% of those two weeks. (Like, as I'm going thru the tag I'm reading now, I'll see something unclicked and go to read it, finish the fic like OMG SO GOOD, and then scroll a little more and I see my name at the top of the kudos list and it's like, wait, when tf did I read this? It was when I was sick.)

Ughhhh. I ADORE the dynamic of whichever younger Strider being the instigator, and it fits Alphacest so deliciously. (I don't even know what to say here without being so fucking overtly horny for Alpha Dave in general but that's not new lmao.)

But seriously, the scene on the roof where Dirk took Dave's underwear, like. I died. There's no other way to put it. It fucking killed me. I'm going to remember that forever, it was so good.

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[tteokdoroki]

ok no sukuna tonight because i decided i wanted to make a video banner for it and i don’t have the time to put it together rn !!! will hopefully post tomorrow evening :3

[blujayonthewing]

one stupid thing about my brain latching onto felix like a terrier in kill mode is that I live with my favorite and one of my best DMs and he is constantly cooking me the most hearty and scrumptious meals but I'm still, against my own will, sitting on the floor white-knuckle gripping the lad while we both starve to fucking death

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

shes so gorgeous bro

[depoteka]

quite ironic that the episode i was looking forward to the most in the new season of doctor who (the beatles episode) was my least fave one