#huntress x question kiss

[spirit-fingers22]

90s shows making me more invested in a ship with simple handholding and light touches than a today show with literal fucking porn scenes

Huntress x Question + touch - Justice League Unlimited

[marscardigan]

begin again

joel miller x reader

summary: after ten years, you see joel again.

warnings: blood, typical tlou canon violence, mentions of death and description of gore-ish wounds

longest fic i've ever writeen! enjoy!

Present day (spring 2035)

It was another typical Tuesday for Joel at Jackson. After his mission to patrol the woods that surrounded the little city, he came back to his home, and prepared something easy to eat with Ellie.

After that, he rested for a bit in his couch, always falling asleep for twenty or thirty minutes. When it was already dark, he went to the local bar to finish the day with a good beer. Maria, his brother's wife, sat down by his side.

"Hey, Joel" The named one turned his gaze to her, leaning his back to the wall. "Are you free tomorrow morning?"

"I wanted to fix the bathroom door" that" he shrugged, "but apart from that, I guess I'm free"

"Great, because Rick rescued a group of three women this afternoon. There is one of them that volunteered for patrol, and if you could go with her to train her a bit, although she is great with the shotgun" She laughed. "That chick almost blows Tommy's head". Joel drank the rest of the beer. "Alright, tell her to be at the stable at 7"

May 2024

The air smelled like summer. You loved summer, because the infected were easier to kill with the strong heat. And also because that allowed you to have some free time from the fireflies.

You joined them five summers ago, when they found you almost dead, with a bullet dangerously close to your chest. They saved you, and you owed them. So here you were. Owing them. Cleaning the zone from clickers and infected ones. Since the apocalypse started, you were grateful for your capabilities with the shotgun, thanks to your grandfather and his love for hunting. Thanks to that and your surprising survival skills, you were one of the fireflies best huntress; which meant you worked a lot, but also gained some free time for yourself.

You were sat on the rooftop of a building, killing some time with some old book you have just stolen, when you saw two people running through the perimeter. When you were about to shoot, your walkie sounded. It was Marlene, warning you not to kill them. You scoffed, asking who they were, and she evaded the question. Without feeling satisfied, you grabbed your shotgun and followed them.

Those fuckers were good at running, because after an hour, you lost them. It wasn't until a big arm grabbed you by the neck and put a knife - too close to your liking -, that you guessed they found out.

"Oh my god" The woman smiled, murmuring your name as if it was a foreign myth. "Glad to finally meet you, you are quite de legend around here" She got closer to you, "Joel, you can let her go"

"That won't be necessary" you hissed, taking advantage of their realization to kick him right between his legs. The male fell to his knees. You grabbed back your shotgun, pointing right between her eyebrows.

"My name is Tess, and this man is Joel" She raised her arms, getting back, but without showing a single sign of panic in her gaze. "We won't hurt you if you don't hurt us"

"You can't hurt me if I open your head" You answered, with your finger caressing the trigger.

"We were looking for you, for god's sake" Joel now said annoyed, still on the ground. "Marlene told us where you were. We know her."

"Why would she-"

"Your debt with the fireflies is done" Tess cut you off. "We were here to get you out of the quarantine zone. If you want, of course"

"Or you can stay here and still kiss Marlene's ass"

"Oh, you don't want to mess with me, big boy" You laughed, looking back at Tess. “Your boyfriend should keep his mouth shut, doll.”

"He ain’t my boyfriend" Tess admitted, sighing. "We also came to make you a job offer"

You bit your lip, then lowering your arm. "Keep talking"

"We work as smugglers, and we heard how good you are with your job" Tess grabbed Joel's hand, helping him get up. "If everything we heard about you and that shotgun of yours is true, we would like you to join us"

"You pay good?" You asked. "We pay great, and our job would suit your potential." The brunette nodded. "So, what you say?"

You didn't have much of a choice. You wanted so bad to get out of here. Also, you have done smuggling for free, so what's better than getting paid for doing things you were the best at?

"I'm in"

Present day

It was uncharacteristically cold today. Joel woke up before his alarm went off, taking advantage of these ten minutes to prepare a sandwich for his patrol today. It wasn’t rare that citizens of Jackson found stray people and opened their gates to them.

He got dressed and started his way to the stables, not without before leaving a note to Ellie about him leaving for the morning.

When he arrived, he started to get his horse ready, petting shimmer for a bit. Once he finished, he waited, sitting down in a chair. Then it was seven. He light up a cigarette. Then it was seven fifteen, seven twenty… And when the clock hanged on the stable wall marked seven thirty, Joel was exasperated.

Before he could leave, Maria appeared on his eyesight.

“Sorry, Joel, he had some issues with her prosthetic leg” She then announced: “She’s ready now.”

Joel’s brows furrowed. Then you appeared on his eyesight. His gaze softened, but just for a moment, before getting his guard back up.

“Hey, big boy”

October 2024

“You missed today” A voice behind you said. “You never miss.”

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was Joel talking. You were tired and the last thing you wanted was to talk to him. “I know”

“Why? Why did you miss?”

You shrugged. “I suppose you’ll never know.”

The room fell silent again. You started to appreciate the silence after all the loudness that entered to your life for the past months.

“You knew that woman” Joel then said. You didn’t notice when he got closer to your figure. “Am I right?”

You were still quiet, focusing your eyes to the book.

“I thought I knew her” You didn’t know why you were telling him that, you just wanted him to go away. “She looked like someone I knew”

Joel sat down right next to you, still keeping a distance. He didn’t insist about it. He just fell quiet.

“Doesn’t it happen to you?” You break the silence. “Thinking someone you knew fell sick. Or killing people you knew without being aware of it because of some fucking fungus”

“I think about it all the time” He then said. His voice seemed soft, weak even. “You lost someone because of it?”

“I lost everyone” You laughed at the irony. “But, uhm…” Tears threatened to come out of your eyes. “Five years ago, I lost my sister. And it was my fault.”

“Got infected?” Joel asked. You nodded slowly with your head. “She begged me to kill her, to end her pain. I guess I couldn’t do it.” You shrugged, trying - and failing - to act indifferent about it. “So when I see an infected that looks at least a bit like her, I get scared. It doesn't happen often, and I know it’s not scientifically possible for an infected to keep-”

“I understand.”

You closed your mouth shut. It was your turn to get quiet. “I lost my daughter because of it. For this shitty pandemic. I understand”

His words made you realize lots of things, the most important one, how similar you two were. Tried to act out as dangerous and powerful, when on the inside you were just two lost and broken people, who didn’t want nor care to be fixed.

That night, something clicked between you and Joel.

Present day

Joel stood static on his position. It couldn’t be possibly you. He had to be dreaming. He had to.

“I see you two know each other” Maria chirped. “I have work to do. Don’t mess this up.”

The woman disappeared, leaving the two of you alone.

You ignored his burning gaze towards you and jumped to the horse. “Come on.” Joel tried to ignore all the thoughts that were evading his head, and started riding his horse. Once the gates of Jackson closed, he positioned the animal right next to yours.

“How did you find me?” He asked, taking advantage to see your face. You had a long scar that went all through your right cheek. And he also looked at your missing leg, now replaced with a prosthetic metal one.

“You know I am very good at my job” You simply answered. When you looked at him, the male felt cold. “Where’s Tess?”

He took a minute before answering. “She didn’t make it”

You felt bad. Although you shouldn’t, you did. Maybe it was because a tiny piece of your heart still belonged to them. Even after everything.

“Sorry” You mumbled. “Infected?”

“Uh-huh” Joel looked at your leg. “How did you make it?”

You ignored him, riding your horse faster.

February 2025

The glass snapped with the pass pf your boots. You were all bloody - thank god it wasn’t yours - and you were also exhausted. Joel followed you close.

You two had a mission around Boston, and Tess couldn’t come with you, she got shot and lost a dangerous amount of blood. “Fuck” He mumbled. “We shouldn’t have accepted it until Tess recovered.”

“Oh shut up you pussy, we can handle this just fine” Your voice said the opposite, but Joel didn’t seem to notice.

All of a sudden, a window broke right on top of you. An infected grabbed you by the shoulders, her mouth too close to your neck. Before you could even process what was happening, Joel drove the bat into the infected’s head. You moved the now corpse to the floor, standing up. “Thank you for that” You laughed. “Lord, you scared me” He said at the same time.

You grabbed your shotgun and smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, yet his lips curled the tiniest bit upwards. You tried to remember every inch of his face. After all of these months together, you started to not dislike Joel and Tess' company, even you dared to say enyoing.

It was usual to start your routine wrapped in cold sheets, only Joel's body keeping you warm. Though you must admit it was nice to lay your trust on him and allow yourself some calm in your life, your job didn't make things easier. With your strong character and Joel's stubborness, you usually ended up fighting, a lot. It wasn't a relashionship what you both had, but for you, it felt like something much more important. You let him inside your head and your heart. You told eachother every fear, every dream, every thought that occupied your minds. Your connection with him was something built with time, patience and trust.

WIth everything you learned since you were with them, there was one thing you yearned for, and yet it was something that seemed imposible. Stability. Stability and a calm life was everything you wanted. It was pretty hard to find, knowing your head had a price in half of the states. But at some misions, like the one you were right now with him, you decided to be selfilsh for a while. You decided to priorize what your heart longed for, not what your head ordered.

So here you were. With one of your legs tangled in Joel's hip. Inside a house that wasn't even yours. Both of you only wearing underwear, your mind focusing on the light sound of the rain from the outside and Joel's calm breaths. "We should get going" Me whispered, plastering soft kisses in your forehead. "Tess must be waiting for us tonight"

"We already finished the mission, Joel. I can assure you by three pm we will be with Tess again. And please, don't name another woman's name after we fucked. It doesn't feel right." Joel chuckled, getting up from the bed. "Sure thing. come on, let's go."

Once you both got dressed and grabbed your guns, you went back to the road. The soft rain turned out to be a pretty loud storm, banning you and Joel's chance to go back as fast as you would've wanted.

It turned out to be a longer journey back home than you anticipated. And by the time you entered the building where youb three were staying, you and Joel shared a worried glance. A clicker sound.

Without further explanation, you reloaded the shotgun and runned to the third floor, whereTess was supposed to be. With every step you took, a woman's shouts became more louder. You killed two runners, who heard your fast footsteps. You didn't hear - or at least denied - Joel's screams to stop and get behind him. You could only hear Tess cries. When you killed two more clickers, you started to think this was serious. Joel screamed your name again.

"Get behind me! For the love of god get the fuck behind me!"

"There's too many!" You shouted back, throwing your shotgun to the floor once it ran away from bullets, and decided to stick with a metal bat instead. "Go get Tess!" The bat found an infected head, knocking it out at the instant. "I'll cover you! NOW!"

Joel failed to look you in the eye. He just nodded to himslef, trying not to think about everything that was happening right now, and just followed your orders. He grabbed Tess as carefully as he could and started running towards the exit, you following behind.

After that, everything happened in less that a minute. Your bat ended up blending with an infected's open head, leaving you unarmed and scared. You still hitted as hard as your could the other infected bodies that seemed every second harder to get rid off. And by the time Joel was on the third floor again, almost leaving the building, a clicker jumped on your back. Tess was the first ti notice.

"Joel get back! Get back! She needs you!"

Joel denied, not stopping nor looking back, where you were shouting for help. "We need to leave"

"No! Joel!"

You never seen a clicker so close. You never noticed how behind the fungus that filled his head, you could still see a human face. Ypou could see the pain the man was in. And stil, with both of your arms holding his cheeks and shovinmg him as hard as you could, it wasn0t enough. You were going to die. You used your last string of strenght to look back. Joel and Tess were gone. They left you. He left you.

The fatigue turned to anger, and the anger turned to rage. Thanks to that rage, you succeded to grab a brick at splash it into the clicker's head, allowing you to catch a breath and try to escape. You thought you made it when a high-pitch scream left your throat. You felt how every tooth burned the flesh of your leg. Your vision was blurry from the inevitabke tears that ecaped from your eyes. Taking advantage of how the clicker was eating your muscle, you ripped the clicker's head apart, killing him in the act. Leaving you in silence. God, how you appreciated silence. The only sound that was audible were your soft cries. You laid down the cold floor and kept crying. You were going to die. With all the stimoulation that ran through your veins, you didn't hear how at the end of the hall, Joel had come back to you. But when he saw your leg, and your weak figure, he knew you wouldn't last much. He now understood, better than ever, your story with your sister. That night, Joel decided to be selfish. He decided not killing you, even if that meant you would turn into a montser.

He never told Tess the truth, thinking it would be easier for both of them to believe you died that day. A couple of minutes later, when you were alone again, you crawled to a now dead clicker, and removed the knife from its neck. You cut your own leg and with Joel's jacket you stop - or at least tried to stop - the hemorriage.

The next thing you saw was darkness.

Present day

The sun started to hide behind the mountains and the air started to grow colder. You spent all day at patrol with Joel. Even though you haven't talked much, he knew why you were here. At least, that¡s what he thought.

"Come on" He stopped his horse, not daring to lock gazes with you for more than mere seconds. "I know why you're here."

"Oh, you do?" You mocked him, turning your horse around and getting closer to him. "Then why am I here, handsome?"

"To end me" His voice was nothing more than a mere whisper. "I left you, and now you'll get your revenge"

"You're right as always" You smiled at him. "Well, at least on the abadnonement thing. That was rough, even for you, asshole. But I'm not here to kill you. I don't blame you for what happened."

"When I found out you had been staying at Jackson for two years. I got jealous. You got what I wanted. A calm life." You shrugged. "I came here to have that, even if it means seeing you everyday, I just want some peace. I had enough violence."

Joel went quiet. Until his voice cracked. "Maybe we could begin again."

To begin again. To be gifted with another chance. To welcome him in your life again. Your voice sounded soft and yet cold when you murmured. "Yeah, maybe we could."

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Surprising News

Jotun!King!Loki x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: You are suffering from circulation problems since a few weeks, which gets your husband quite concerned. Unbeknowst to either of you, is a sweet surprise waiting to be discovered.

Warnings: fluff, bit angst, protective Loki, some health issues, pregnancy stuff

Word Count: 3,4k

a/n: I'm back, guys! 😁 This oneshot is based on an idea @eleniblue had. I hope y'all like it! I do, 'cause it's definitely not how it 'normally goes'. 😊

P.S I have no idea why I chose that gif. 🥴🫡

Tagging: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @evelyn-kingsley @chantsdemarins @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @loz-3 @simping-for-marvel @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @linaax @mochie85 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @november-rayne @mandywholock1980

(Continuing in the tags :))

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

It all started a few weeks ago, while taking a stroll through the royal gardens in Asgard, as you visited your family.

Circulation problems.

It wasn't that bad, though. You had felt a bit dizzy, but nothing more; brushing it off and telling yourself that it was caused by the sudden change of temperatures. Sure, it was summer. On Jotunheim as well, but there it was definitely colder than on Asgard. Problem solved - you thought.

But then it came back. Only a few days later, when you were on the way to the city with your husband for the monthly visit of your folk. It came suddenly. It was unpredictable. You swallowed hard; eyes squeezing shut as your hand gripped the fabric of your dress tightly; knuckles turning white.

Loki - who sat opposite you in the open carriage noticed your distress - of course and leaned forward; hand gently touching your hand with a worried look in his eyes. "Is everything alright, flower?" You nodded quickly; not trying to cause your husband to worry further. "Yes, my king. Just a bit dizzy." Loki frowned, but nodded. "Do you wish to return to the palace and do this another day?" Again, you shook your head. "No, no! It's alright. I'm good." "Very well. Your decision, my queen."

The next time it occurred, was on the summer hunt. Sure, you weren't hunting yourself, but you accompanied Loki - like you always did. In your eyes, it was an obligation as the queen to join in on the hunt. So, you did. Unfortunately, the circulation problems got worse... It wasn't just the dizziness which increased. Slight nausea joined the party as well. You shortly had the feeling you were going to faint. Everyone was immediately at your side - with Loki leading the way. Luckily, it subsided after a few minutes, and again you brushed it off.

But Loki really started to worry by now. So, it was no wonder, that he sought talks with you...

A knock on the door ripped you out of the documents you were reading; head snapping up. "Yes?" Ivan - one of your personal guards stepped inside; taking a deep bow. "The king wishes to speak to you, your majesty." You couldn't suppress the smile which instantly darted over your face at the Jotun's words. "Please, let him in." Ivan nodded and stepped aside; letting Loki enter your study. Before your husband went to greet you, he turned to the guard. "Leave. I wish to be alone with my wife." Ivan took another bow, "Of course, my king." and left the room. Almost giddily, you stood up and rounded the big, wooden desk. "Hello, my beautiful, precious flower." You immediately went to hug Loki; arms crossing behind his neck. "Hello, my king." You bit your lip; smiling, before you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him.

"What brings you here, my love?" At your question, Loki's demeanour shifted immediately. A sigh left his lips, and you could swear that you saw worry in his eyes. "We need to talk, darling." Your brows furrowed. "You seem very serious... What is it?" Loki took your hand and led you to the chair. He sat down, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his strong arms around you. He took a deep breath; deep ruby eyes gazing into yours. "I am worried about you, my love." You blinked, but knew exactly what Loki was talking about. Nevertheless, you tried to cover it up. "Worried? About me? Why?" "Your circulation problems." You just wanted to open your mouth to speak, when Loki cut you off. "No, no, please... Don't deny it. I saw. I noticed. Flower, please... Go to the healers and get this checked. I need to know that the love of my life is alright."

You sighed; "Loki... I am alright. It's nothing. Just a few stress symptoms." brushing it off once again. But Loki wasn't very convinced. "I am not so sure of this, Y/N. You should really go to-" You interrupted your husband; shushing him with a kiss on the lips. "I am fine. Stop worrying."

At that moment in time, you had no idea, that you were going to eat your words only a week later...

"My king, I don't know if we can trust this convention. Something about all this seem off to me." One of Loki's advisors spoke up; scratching his beardy chin. The king of Jotunheim was in the middle of an important converging with his royal advisors. "And what is it you are suggesting?" He asked; crossing his bulging arms over his chest. "I suggest that your majesty-" The advisor didn't come any further; got interrupted by a guard, who just barged inside the room. It was Ivan.

Loki hated it, when somebody did that and was about to chide the man, when he spoke up quickly. "My king! I apologise for the harsh interruption, but..." The Jotun panted; trying to catch his breath. "...but it's urgent! An emergency! The queen, she... She almost had a circulatory collapse!"

The words had merely left Ivan's lips, when Loki immediately jumped up from his seat. Adrenaline shot through his body, causing his heart to fall over the cliff and beat as fast as if it had a race to win. "She what?!" The guard just nodded frantically; unable to form any words at the king's 'outburst'. "When?! Where?!" "I-In the gardens, your majesty. A few minutes ago. I-I was with her and brought her immediately to the healers." Loki gave the guard a last look, before he stormed past him; literally running towards the medical wing of the palace. Anxiety started to flood the king's system; infecting his body like poison. He had told you. He had warned you; had begged you to seek out the healers, but no, you didn't want to listen - and now you seemingly paid the price. A price Loki wasn't willing for you to pay. He couldn't lose you. Not today, not now. Every possible worst-case scenario played out in his head on the way to the healers.

To his surprise, he was already expected...

One of the friendly, Jotun female healers waited patiently in front of the big, wooden doors; hands clasped together in front of her body. "My king." She started and curtsied. "We thought you would come here as fast as possible." Loki didn't beat about the bush, of course.

"I want to see my wife! I demand to know what is wrong!" He was quickly losing his patience; his temper taking over. After all, this was about Y/N... About his lover's health and safety!

The healer gave him a short, soft smile. "She's well and asleep now. Please, your majesty, I can assure you that she is perfectly healthy." Loki blinked; totally confused. "But... Where are those circulatory problems coming from?! There must be something wrong!" "We should sit down and have a chat, my king." The healer answered calmly; gesturing towards one of the smaller treatment rooms. "Please, follow me." She started to walk towards the room - away from you, and Loki had no other choice than to follow. He wanted to know what was going on - and that was seemingly his only option.

Still walking the lines between confusion and scepticism, the king sat down on the chair. The healer closed the door behind herself and joined him; sitting down opposite of him. Nobody could hear what she told Loki then. He was the only witness of her words.

"What?!" Loki choked out; eyes widening. He couldn't believe what his ears had just heard. For the second time within minutes, he felt completely overwhelmed, like one of the biggest stones just had hit him. "Are... Are you certain of this, milady?" The elderly lady nodded. "We are, my king. We checked. Twice." An audible gasp left his lips, as his brain tried to fully process the information. "Does she know? Does my wife know?" She shook her head. "No. We didn't quite have the chance to talk to the queen, as she passed out in exhaustion as soon as we regulated and stabilised her circulatory." The king nodded. "I wish to tell her." "Of course, your highness."

"I... I need a moment now." The healer smiled. "Of course, my king." Loki had a hard time to not show his emotions so openly; needing to suppress some tears. "Am I allowed to see my wife?" "Whenever you wish, your majesty." With those words the woman left the room, leaving Loki alone. The king ran his hands over his face and through his thick, luscious locks, before he took a few deep breaths of relief and happiness; even letting some tears fall down his cheeks. He had definitely needed the small moment for himself - but then he couldn't wait to see you. 

Gently closing the door - not to wake you - Loki stepped inside the big, cosy, but medically looking room. With his eyes not leaving your frame, he walked over to you and sat down on the chair beside the bed. A smile grazed his lips as he watched you sleep so peacefully.

Loki would wait by your side, until you woke up again. He had no intention to wake you. So, that's what he did... Waiting.

The king had no idea how long he waited. Perhaps only half an hour; perhaps three hours. He didn't know; lost the feeling for time.

A soft, sweet groan left your lips, before you furrowed your eyebrows for a moment; eyes fluttering open. Loki reacted immediately; greeting you with his deep, gentle voice. "Hello, my darling flower. Did you sleep well?" You blinked a few times; head turning to face your husband. "Loki?" He nodded. "I'm here, my love, I am here." One of his big, cerulean hands went to cup your face; thumb gently stroking the skin of your right cheek. You leaned in his touch, of course; feeling warmth spreading throughout your body.

"Why am I here? What happened?" You asked; slightly confused why you were in the medical wing. "You almost had a circulatory collapse. In the gardens. Ivan brought you here and alarmed me. I came as fast as possible, but the healers told me you were asleep." You swallowed hard. You could remember that you had been, indeed, in the gardens, but then everything got blurry. "Oh norns..." "I was quite worried - and I told you to seek out the healers, but you just didn't want to listen..." You squeezed your eyes shut; feelings of guilt over rolling you. "I-I know that now. I'm so sorry, my love, I-" "Shhh..." Loki shushed you on an instant. "It's okay now, flower. You are going to be just fine. Everything is alright."

Now you were slightly confused. After all, something had to be wrong... But not just at your husband's words. About the fact that he had tears in his eyes. Happy tears?

And Loki? Loki saw the confusion reflecting on your face, but he just wasn't able to hold back his emotions.

Letting out a shaky breath, he lunged forward and showered you with countless kisses on your lips - which managed to confuse you even more. What by Odin's beard was going on here?

Between some moments, where his lips weren't locked with yours, you were able to take a few breaths and literally pant out: "L-Loki, what... What is going on h-here? I'd like to have an e-explanation."

Your husband smiled brightly from ear to ear and took your hand lovingly in his bigger ones. "My love, you... You are with child."

You blinked; needed a moment to process the information, but then your eyes widened; jaw dropping. "W-What? I... WHAT?!" Loki just nodded; softly squeezing your hand. "I-I am pregnant?!" A small laugh escaped the king's lips. "Yes, flower, you are. The healers told me. They checked. Twice." You blinked again. This was a little overwhelming for you at the moment. "A-And my circulation problems are-" "A side effect." Loki finished the sentence for you. You swallowed. "Wow, um, I... This is..." Your husband's cheerful expression fell; smile vanishing. "Are you not happy about this, my queen? Didn't you - we, wish for this to happen?" When you saw the troubled look in his eyes, you quickly lifted your free hand to cup his cheek. "No, no, my love! I am happy about it! I truly am!" You tried to reassure him. "It's just a bit overwhelming at the moment. You know, normally it's the woman's job to break such news to her man and not the other way round... I absolutely wasn't prepared for this." Loki nodded; smile returning slowly. "I see - and I understand. I am sorry. Perhaps I just should've let you rest first and tell you tomorrow, but I was just too excited. I wasn't able to control my emotions. Apologies, flower." You shook your head. "No, Loki... Do not apologise for that. Ever. It makes my heart beat so much faster, to see that you are so excited to become a father."

Loki's bright smile had returned. "Oh, I am so excited, my darling. So very much..." He leaned forward to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

Loki hadn't left your bedside that evening; completely abandoning all his royal tasks and telling several guards and advisors, that he'd not be available in the next hours. Loki wanted to stay by your side - after all, you almost collapsed today... And he wanted to enjoy this happy, intimate moment with you. Only you.

Now he was laying in bed with you, after the healers had checked on you once again. His arms wrapped around your middle securely; keeping you pinned against his chest.

"I still can't quite believe this..." You mumbled; softly shaking your head. "A child, Loki..." The king's chest vibrated with a hum, "Me neither, flower." before he pressed a small kiss on the exposed skin of your neck. "You know what that means from now on, yes?" Your husband continued. "Umm..." "No more hard work for you, love. No stressful royal duties, no hunting, no long travels. None of it. Especially now. The healers said your body needs more rest." You wriggled around; turned in his embrace to face him. "But, my king, I-" "No, no, no." Loki cut you off immediately. "You are growing our child. That's already hard work enough." "Okay, okay, I understand that, but... Aren't you a tad bit overprotective now, my love?" You placed one hand on his strong pecs; right where his heart beat for you.

The king just shrugged his shoulders and started to gently stroke the clothed skin on your lower back with his thumbs. "Perhaps. But I can't help myself. It's in my nature; my genes; my instinct. I must protect my woman and growing offspring - at all costs."

Your mouth literally fell shut after these stern, but loving words; knowing that you had no chance in arguing with him anymore. His point stood. Despite that, what were you supposed to do against his DNA? So, instead you opted for a slight change of subject...

"We need to tell my father... And brother." Your husband nodded. "I know, yes. We should - but not now. We're not telling anyone right now. It's so fresh and vulnerable... This is our moment. Nobody else's. We should give it some time." "Yes," you agreed; knowing that Loki was right. "We should."

Three months later, it was time for you and Loki to tell the whole palace and kingdom. Thor and Odin knew it already. They've been told by you and your husband a month back. During those three months, you hid your growing baby bump as best as you could. Sure, it was unavoidable that a few guards and maids figured it out, but those who did had been bound to secrecy.

Like in almost every realm and kingdom was a pregnancy reveal quite a big event. That was the reason, why countless Jotuns gathered in the big courtyard of the palace and waited excitedly, but also anxiously for their king and queen to step out on the big, majestic balcony, in order to tell them why they got invited here. Nobody knew. Nobody had a single clue.

"Are you ready, my queen?" Loki asked you, as he came to stand beside you in front of the green flapping curtains, which led out on the balcony. You took a deep breath and nodded. It wasn't like you already stood quite often on this balcony for various reasons, but this... This was bigger... Different.

"I think I am, yes. I won't be able to hide those two much longer anyways." You placed one hand underneath your steadily growing bump; hosting your twins. Loki smiled softly; "That may be true, yes." cupped your hand and pressed a kiss against your temple. "I am by your side, my flower. Always have been; always will be. This is something good and I am happy to finally share this with our folk." You couldn't help but smile as well; heart fluttering. "Me too, my king, me too." Loki gave you another nod, then took your hand in his; fingers intertwining. "Let's do this." Together you stepped past the curtains, which got held open by two guards, and onto the balcony.

Silence spread over the courtyard on an instant, when the Jotuns saw the both of you appear. They went down on one knee or took a deep bow; showing their king and queen the utmost respect.

"Arise!" Loki started to speak; lifting his arms. Everyone raised to their feet again; all eyes directed on you and your husband. "I thank you all for your appearance." You were glad that Loki did the talking. He was by far better at that. A born king. "Now, you all might wonder why we - the queen and I ordered you all to stand before your rulers today."

Immediate whispers broke out within the crowd and everybody seemed a little... tense and afraid. You could feel it - and so could Loki. "Don't fret, my loyal folk. I can assure you, that the reason why we are all standing here today is purely good." And again the whispers picked up, but this time you could see quite relieved and happy faces. The built-up tension left the Jotuns.

You felt how Loki reached for your hand again; trying to help calm your nerves down a bit.

"My wife, the queen and I..." He spoke up once more, and you knew that the moment had arrived. This was it. Giving his hand a squeeze, you told him that you were ready. Nervous, but ready. Until now, the Jotuns were still unaware, since you wore a wide gown, which hid your quite pregnant belly. Nothing uncommon for you. Sure, it was summer, but for you, it was early spring.

Loki gave you an encouraging nod, alongside a smile and helped you to get rid of the gown - and the 'façade' to drop. Your belly was for everybody visible now, causing a murmur to go through the crowd. Everybody stared at you surprised, shocked; jaw slacking.

"We are expecting offspring!" Your husband announced then cheerfully; placing a hand on your baby bump. "The lineage of our family continues!" His words caused the dam to break and the realisation hitting your people full force. Suddenly, they broke out in loud cheers and claps. There were smiles everywhere; alongside some chants saying things like: 'All hail the king and queen!' or 'Long live king Loki and queen Y/N!' It was a firework of emotions - not just for them.

You and Loki bathed in the positive reactions from all of your people for several moments, until he lifted his hands again, in order to shush them - which worked immediately. The power this man has over the crowd, you thought. Everyone is so devoted to him.

"But with that not enough..." He continued his little speech; dropping the next bombshell. "My wife is going to give birth in a few months... to twins!" This caused even louder claps and cheers to emit from the Jotuns; and a shiver to run down your spine. It was so intense. You felt so much love, sympathy and support radiating from everyone who was standing to your and Loki's feet. You felt accepted. It was overwhelming. Incredible.

You couldn't help but smile and wave, all the while leaning over to kiss your husband; showing some 'public' affection.

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 weapons don't weep 🕸🕷

pairing: insomniac peter parker/spider-man x huntress!reader --(reader is kraven’s daughter / fem-reader / reader has scars from fightin’, but no other descriptions are used)

rating: mature/explicit (18+)

prompt: "I would die for you." // "I don't want you to die." // "I would kill for you." // "I don't want you to kill." // "Then I have nothing to offer you." // (source)

tags: past enemies, secret identity, reveal of identity, canon-typical violence, established fwb relationship, POV second person, no use of Y/N, blood & injury, hurt/comfort, reader struggles to quantify her worth when she’s not being used as a weapon, explicit sexual content.

*takes place after the events of Insomniac 2.

-> the reader doesn’t know who spider-man is, but spider-man knows who she is, considering she doesn’t hide her face/identity. You can read the prior parts here and here or find the whole series on ao3.

🕷🕷( READ ON AO3 ) 🕷🕷

Peter doesn’t ask questions about your scars. Although, that’s maybe because you don’t let him. Whenever he opens his mouth in a querying manner with his eyes on the marks, you grab his chin and kiss him until he’s panting and wordless. This arrangement works better without questions.

You and Peter haven’t defined ‘it’ yet. So far, ‘it’ includes working his garage to help with his foundation, getting take-out, and fucking him on the couch or the floor (the bed, you wordlessly decided, was too intimate and so you started pulling his clothes off before he could get you there). Plus, it's thrilling to fuck Peter on the floor. It feels rushed, heady, and impulsive. Today, you skip the take-out and work your tongue across his sweaty, salty throat instead.

Your hand curls into his short, soft brown hair, and your nails graze against his scalp. You’ve never known how to let things go once you got your hands on them and Peter is no exception. He whines into the hollow juncture of your throat, his hips snapping into yours, and your nails dig into the solid, sinewy heat of his shoulder. Peter is surprisingly fit for a cute, nerdy researcher. His lean musculature cages you in and brings you to new heights.

“Oh fuck,” you bite out as your neck arches backward. Your hand glides across his damp skin until you reach the nape of his neck. You cling to him as he holds you in his arms, his thighs tucked between yours as he kneels beneath you and shallowly thrusts into you. “’m close,” you warn him, gasping.

“Already?” he teases, “so soon?” You hear the smile in his voice, feel it pressed against your collarbone, and you swallow the growl in your throat.

You say, “Oh, fuck off, Peter.” You clutch his scalp tighter, letting the strands pinch between your fingers, and tug.

“God, yes.” His breath tickles your moist neck.

When you and Peter started sleeping together, you assumed he was the romantic and sensual type. The type of guy to kiss you throughout sex and want to cuddle afterward. The type of guy who called it ‘making love’ instead of sex. Now, your assumptions weren’t too far off. Peter does like kissing you and he likes you close. But, you’ve figured out what kind of mood he’s in based on how he kisses you. And thankfully, he likes a little wildness, too. You doubt you could ever tame yourself—even for him.

He enjoys it when you rake your nails down his back, when you cover his collarbones in love bites or pin his wrists over his head when you’re riding him. It’s fun. His surprising athleticism and flexibility have resulted in a range of experimental positions, although, Peter seems to favor the ones that he can see your face. Again, you don’t talk about it.

The ridges of his cock slide gloriously through your folds, earning a hiccup torn from your throat, and Peter clutches tighter. The slow, shallow rocking creates a new, wonderful depth that presses into your front wall, sending pulsing shock wave after shock wave through your nerves. You whine. Your body trembles.

“I can feel you,” he rasps before his mouth works over your jaw. “Squeezing…” he bites the word out and clenches his eyes shut. There’s nothing you like more than seeing Peter reduced to putty in your hands. His fine cheekbones grow ruddy and his lips glisten with saliva. He’s so painfully earnest. All his emotions ricochet across his face like flames. Sweet, and cute Peter, with his tense arms and beautiful brown eyes, and his kissable mouth waiting for you to devour him.

You kiss him, stroking your tongue over his, and forcing your mouths to breathe the same air. “Peter,” you whimper, gyrating your hips, “gonna make me cum—you’re gonna make me—”

“Yeah?” he mumbles against your mouth, “want you to, want you so bad.”

Your swollen clit rubs against him, creating a slick and tempestuous friction, as his cock steadily thrusts into your drenched cunt. His calloused palm drags over your ribs, skating across raised scars and old bruises, before he cups your breast and squeezes it, kneading the flesh between his fingers, and pulling another moan from your throat.

“Peter, peter, p-peter,” you pant. Something inside of you shudders and cringes at this wanton, weak, and breathless tone that he carves from your chest. You buck into him as he rolls your tight, peaked nipple between his index and thumb. You are as taut as a compound bow drawn back to strike. You clutch his hair tighter, unraveling, and your other hand dug into the hard curve of his shoulder. Peter groans like you ripped the air from his chest. You snap and cry out as your walls pulse around his hard cock, your body quaking in quick, short bursts.

Your back hits the carpet and Peter – sweet, kind, generous – Parker thrusts hard, fucking you through the swelling waves of your orgasm, as the wet, slick sound floods your head and your heartbeat threatens to pound through your chest. You yank his hair and his head is pulled back, exposing the beautiful, vulnerable column of his throat that’s covered in reddish-purple bruises from your teeth and tongue. Through heavily lidded eyes, you watch his mouth drop open and release a guttural cry of your name before his hips snap erratically into yours and you feel him finish.

He’s huffing, gasping, like you wrought his soul and wrung it dry before he collapses forward and onto your chest. You loosen your grip on his hair and let your palm settle on his nape, idly stroking your fingers through the fine, sweaty hair at the base of his skull.

What would Peter say if he knew the real you? If he knew you grew up alongside hunters and trained to kill. If he knew you and your siblings were taught to compete for your father’s attention and praise—no, praise was the wrong word—Kraven gifted knives, not compliments.

It doesn’t matter now, of course. Kraven, and the rest of your family, are gone. Dead. You’re the lone huntress who remains for better or worse. Whether you earned your father’s respect or not is irrelevant.

But would Peter still press his lips feverishly to yours if he knew who you were? Really, truly knew you. If he knew of your nightmares, triumphs, and proud kills, would he still clutch you to your chest or hold your face in his hands while you came?

In a rare moment of post-coitus vulnerability, you say the quiet part out loud, “Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning because of you.”

Peter lifts his head from your breastbone, his flushed expression pinched with curiosity. “What?” His lips quirk into a smile. “Because of the sweat?”

Because of the goodness in you, you want to say. In the months that have passed in his company, even before sleeping together, you are – and continue to be – baffled by Peter’s selflessness. He helps old people carry their groceries, he leaves an extra penny (when he has one) in the dish at the bodega, and one time he helped a woman with her cumbersome, folded stroller on the subway stairs during a slushy, cold winter storm before joining you at the turnstile, and the way he gently held your bleeding hand and carefully wrapped your injured palm in gauze.

You close your eyes for a second, collecting yourself, remembering yourself, and you roll your eyes when you re-open them.

“Yes,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with your hand, “up and at ‘em, Parker.”

“You’re more than welcome to use the shower.” He places a quick, almost self-conscious kiss on your sticky cheek before sliding off of you. “But, I can’t promise there’s hot water,” he adds with a grimace.

You sit up, admiring your handiwork for a selfish moment. His tousled, fucked-with hair, the hickeys on his throat, the pink hue to his cheekbones and ears, and his glossy, pupil-wide eyes that regard you with...something...attraction, probably, if you had to guess.

“That’s alright.” You snatch your underwear from where it landed on the coffee table. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place.”

Peter rubs the back of his neck. “You could stay,” he offers while pulling on his black boxer briefs. “It’s getting late.”

You scoff. It’s barely eight. “I promise I’ll get home safe.”

You can’t afford to indulge him – to be vulnerable is a death sentence. This arrangement is all you can give him. You can kiss him in the garage and let him hold the door open for you and suck his dick on the couch, but you can’t stay. To stay would be to admit that you feel safe with him. To stay would be to admit that you trust him. No. No. It’s better to go home, to your one-bedroom with pockmarked walls and your careful traps and scraps of Kraven’s leftover technology.

He doesn’t know the real you, you remind yourself, and that’s a good thing. Peter deserves someone uncomplicated for his little quiet life. You have no illusions about yourself and what you mean to him. This arrangement is built on mutual attraction and the stressors of late-night lab work. It’s a fun distraction. Nothing more. Nothing less. And, if you’re being honest, you like the simplicity of it.

Despite the horrors of being Kraven’s daughter, you liked having a place among the hierarchy and having a role to fulfill. A job. And Peter gave you that. He gave you a purpose outside the hierarchy of bloodshed, trophies, and cruel competition.

You are his partner in the foundation and you’re trying to find a cure for cancer. That’s your role. You just so happen to fuck him on the side, but that arrangement can be dissolved whenever without any hard feelings on your end. Simple. You like simple.

“Text me when you get home?” He holds the front door open for you.

You grab him by the collar of his cotton t-shirt and press your lips to his. He melts into you, his hands finding your waist, squeezing your hips, and pushing your spine against the doorframe. The kiss has your toes scrunching inside your boots and you’re almost tempted to take him up on his offer – stay and earn a hundred more kisses, and a few more orgasms until you’re boneless and drunk on dopamine. You sigh into his mouth and catch his lower lip between your teeth and give him a light, teasing suck before releasing it.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind?” he breathes, sounding ever-so-eager.

You pull away, smirking. “Nope.”

He places one hand over his heart. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

A surprised laugh escapes your throat. “No way. You’ve got the spirit of someone who will live into their eighties and spend retirement feeding ducks and pigeons in the park.”

Peter smiles, though it’s hard to know if he’s smiling because of your joke or your unexpected laughter.

“If I’m lucky,” he says, still smiling.

***

“You know,” Spider-Man begins, his legs swinging over the ledge of the building you were both perched upon, “you said ‘one time’, but if I’ve done my math right, then this is like the hundredth time you’ve helped me.”

You don’t remove the binoculars from your face. “Your point?”

“Just makin’ observations,” his tone is light, but there’s something else there – you can sense it as easily as you sense animals moving through the brush. You drop the binoculars and let them dangle from your throat where they bump against the sore pieces of your chest that Peter marked. The subtle, thrilling twinge of pain sharpens your focus.

“I’m not doing this for free,” you remind him.

His lenses widen. “I’m supposed to pay you?!” he asks incredulously. “Since when?”

You shake your head. “I have my reasons for tagging along when your targets are interesting enough,” you say, “and they aren’t monetary.”

“Then what is it? It can’t just be my company.” You hear the smile in his voice. “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were.”

You bite back your smile, bring the binoculars back to your face, and return your attention to the street. Sometimes, Spider-Man will say something that reminds you so fiercely of Peter that it makes your heart ache. A good person would cut ties with Parker, end the arrangement, and let him find an uncomplicated lover without a serrated, damaged heart. But, alas, you’re not a good person. You decide to text Peter after this and see if he’s interested in pretending to watch a movie with you.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

Your reply is short. “That’s none of your business.”

He sighs and mutters almost to himself, “Can’t blame a guy for trying…”

***

Your plans to text Peter fly out the proverbial window when the explosion sends you flying into a concrete wall. There’s no way he won’t question the bruises that’ll undoubtedly litter your back like Dalmatian spots.

You cough, rolling onto your side, and blink past your tears toward the shifting shadowed shapes of Spider-Man and the armored human on the flying bat-shaped glider.

The smoke has a strange, otherworldly green hue. Your instincts kick in. Your knees curl forward as your palms brace yourself and you push upright and remain crouched. You tug the scarf around your neck toward your nose and cover your mouth. You recognize toxic bullshit when you see it.

You notch an arrow and squint through the haze. Spider-Man moves insanely fast. His body contorting and twisting, dodging near-fatal blows at the last second, and jumping back into the fray like a snapped rubber band. But, your opponent matches Spider-Man in speed, using the glider to dodge or flip out of the way of his webs. You hold your breath and a bead of sweat tickles your temple.

“Easy,” Kraven’s voice fills your head. The smoke shifts to verdant, lush leaves surrounded by moist heat, intensified by the recent rainfall, and you are surrounded by your father’s breath and the hum of insects. Your fingers press into your cheek as you draw the bowstring back. The green-armored villain tosses several blades and Spider-Man stumbles back, clutching his ribs, and your breath trembles. You must kill this creature. You must find it’s weak point. The tip of your arrow tracks toward the villain's skull. The design of it is strange. It’s almost...impish.

‘It’s too well protected’, you think, frowning behind your scarf, ‘we need a different opening.’

Kraven admonishes, “Do not rush, Huntress.”

The yellow eyes pierce you through the leaves. You release your arrow and it sings through the air before catching on the goblin’s large, insect-like yellow eyes of his helmet. As the impact rings through the smoke and fire-filled building and the goblin is knocked from his glider, another sound cuts the air, and a rush of wet, warm copper fills your mouth.

You glance down and stare stupidly at the two small blades that are lodged inside your chest. Your yelp is strangled by the blood in your throat. The concrete beneath your knees is strange and off-putting. Weren’t you outside? You cough and bloody phlegm splatters on your shirt and over your chin.

A cry rips from Spider-Man’s throat, “Huntress!”

“What did I tell you?” Kraven sneers. “Too soon. You could have killed him if you had waited.”

“Shut up,” you say thickly, stowing your compound bow on your sore, bruised back. “I’m busy.” Spider-Man still needed your help. You’ve thrown the goblin off, but he isn’t giving up. His wide, bleeding eyeball glares at you through the broken yellow glass even as he defends himself against Spider-Man’s agile attacks.

Kraven says, “Is that any way to speak to your father? You will choke on those words, girl.”

You pull your hunting knife from the sheath on your thigh. “Looking forward to it.”

The pain should cripple you, but you’ve trained under more duress than this. Your inhale is ragged and impeded by the stuffy, claustrophobic heat. It’s agony. Your lungs, with joyously shared breath with Peter a few hours ago, rattle and crinkle with blood. You push forward and into the chaos. The goblin is faster than you expected for a target that’s covered in iridescent green armor that’s reminiscent of a beetle's shell.

The upside to fighting with Spider-Man and against him is that you know his technique. You know how he moves, where his feet will be, and how he follows through. There is a fluidity to it that you’ve never experienced with any other hunt. Your blade clangs loudly against the forearm armor of the goblin, and it’s enough of a distraction for Spider-Man to get a good, solid hit.

However, you sense the fight isn’t over. You understand, through virtue of being Kraven’s daughter, that this creature, this man, will fight to the death.

The black shadows start to crawl at the edges of your vision. You grunt and block a kick that would’ve landed on your sternum. You clench your jaw and your blade, trying to fight off the prickling numbness that trickles into your fingers.

“Careful, Spidey.” The Green Goblin laughs. “Your girlfriend doesn’t look too good.”

“You could make this easy by just giving up,” says Spider-Man, “have a nice and relaxing vacation in jail. But noooo! Bad guys always gotta -” he lands a kick “- make things so-” another kick, followed through with two quick web bursts “-difficult!”

A small lick of pride works up your spine. Spider-Man isn’t merely holding his own. He’s pushing the goblin backward, cornering him, and soon there will be nowhere left for him to run. The goblin laughs. Something flashing catches your attention. It’s the goblin’s glider and it’s – your eyes widen with realization - oh fuck – it's counting down. You shove your blade into the Green Goblin’s armpit, the only weak point you managed to catch and grab Spider-Man’s arm.

“Trap,” you wheeze. The bomb-rigged glider has barely five seconds remaining. Your body jolts and a pained scream shapes your mouth as Spider-Man pulls you into his arms and shoots a web toward the broken, metal support beams above.

There is a rush of smoke and cinders and terrible, terrible heat.

“Stay with me,” Spider-Man says above the roar. You cling to him, your chest and stomach slick with blood and smearing against his red and blue suit. The void swallows your vision. The world is a blur, a rush of sound and sensation, and your head lolls backward.

***

You smell singed, burnt clothing. You taste is metallic, harsh blood. You wiggle your fingers. You are, for the time being, alive.

You open your eyes and catch Spider-Man removing his burned mask. Short, brown hair and earnest coffee-hued eyes, his skin smudged with soot, and trails of shiny blood glistened from both ears.

“Oh good,” you wheeze, “it’s you.” You want to laugh, all the little moments of Spider-Man reminding you of Peter now make sense in retrospect. You resist the urge to giggle. You don't need further pain added to your delirium. 

“If it was anyone else,” you continue, “I don’t think I’d die for them. But, I would die for you.”

It’s such an easy truth to give him. Peter, who gave you purpose beyond bloodshed, is a worthy person to die for. Spider-Man, your once-enemy, a worthy adversary, who risked his life for a city that you weren’t sure deserved him, is a worthy person to die for. You’re glad they’re one and the same.

Peter crawls to you, hands tenderly cupping your jaw, and says, “I don’t want you to die.”

Your fingers trail lightly over his bruised cheekbone. “I’d kill for you, too, if that means anything.”

“I don’t want you to kill,” he chokes the words out.

“Mhm.” The tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Pain or grief? It’s hard to tell. “Then I have nothing to offer you.”

How shameful to admit it. You are a weapon and weapons don’t weep, but here you are – you are weeping. You try to muffle it because it’ll hurt from the blades protruding from your skin that pieced into your body armor, and because it’s been so many years since you’ve cried that you think you might’ve forgotten how.

“Don’t – don’t say that.” His thumbs stroke your face and graze over your lips. “You’re more than Kraven’s offspring and you’re brighter than his legacy ever was. You are more – so, so so much – more than that. Now, hold on, for me? Okay? Help is coming.”

You close your eyes. In that building of greenish smoke and torn-asunder concrete and twisted metal, was it really your father’s ghost that came to help you and taunt you in equal measure? Perhaps it was. It serves as a good reminder. You’re a killer. A hunter. No matter how domesticated you pretend to be, you cannot escape the thrill and excitement you feel before and during a hunt, and that delight, that euphoric release, cannot be replicated and it cannot be tamed. You drop your hand from Peter’s face and weakly hold his wrist, your thumb pressing into his pulse point.

This is always how your story was meant to go. You are destined to die at the hands of a greater predator – just as your father before you. How foolish of you to dream otherwise. How naive.

“I am what they made me,” you admit softly.

“Stop.” Peter shakes your shoulder and your eyes snap open with a pained, sharp wince. “Stop acting like this is goodbye. I need you to fight this, Huntress. I need…” He swallows and his eyes are bright, almost glassy when they meet yours. “I need you.”

A thousand arguments jump to your tongue but you don’t have the energy to articulate them. The tempestuous pull of oblivion laps at your consciousnesses like the swell of the sea. It would be so easy to let go, to release, and to succumb. So, so easy. No more pain. No more doubts about your place in the world. No more pacing around your apartment waiting for the next call to action. No more desperate searching for your father’s half-brother. You don’t even understand why you want to find him.

‘I don’t want to be alone anymore,’ you think in a shock of clarity (it seems near-death has its uses). Your eyelashes flutter. The lull of the void sings her siren’s call to you. It would be so, so easy to let go.

“You aren’t alone,” Peter says urgently. Oh fuck. You said it out loud. How does this keep happening? How does he keep effortlessly pulling the truth from you? Your defenses are good. They’re well-built and maintained and nobody has ever, ever managed to get past them.

Until him.

“Listen to me,” he says your name sweetly and desperately. Usually, that tone is reserved for when you’re lost in the throes of each other's skin, and so, you do as he wishes. You force your eyes to remain open, and you hold his gaze even though it feels like he’s burning you with it, and you grip his wrist tighter – let him be your anchor, your tether, to this wicked, heartless world.

“When I lost Harry, and when I lost Aunt May, I thought I’d never...be capable of finding someone like you...and I was afraid to let someone get close. And I’m terrified...I am so fucking scared that I’m going to lose you. I don’t want to lose you,” he says your name again as if to punctuate his sentence.

“I don’t care about your family, or your history, or any of it. I care about you. So, stay. I’m asking you to stay. Please. Please stay,” he says through his tears and you clumsily reach forward, gripping the front of his suit, and pulling him weakly toward you. You press your forehead against his. His expression fractures with tenderness and it presses into your skin like a hot, sizzling brand.

“Apply pressure to the wound,” you whisper, tasting blood and salt, “and keep me talking.”

He does as you ask and you do as he asks. For the second time in your life when Spider-Man asks you to stay – you do.

[personinthepalace]

OMIGOD THIS IS SO ADORABLE!!! Thank you for drawing this!! 💜

I love your Huntress x Question art!! Thank you for drawing them! Would you mind drawing another one of them? Either in or out of costume :) Thanks!

Thank you friend! I’m so happy you do <3

And since you gave me the freedom…

I made them into….

BUNNY LOAFS! 🍞

Hope you like it!

[offbranddrpepsi]

Hello! Could you do a Reyna X gn!reader that is mute and their dating? (Maybe you could also add how she first viewed reader since their mute and joined the Valorant protocol, also if she would learn sign language or not)

Apologies if my English wasn't the best.

Have a great day/night! <3

Your English was perfectly fine and I can MORE than do this and absolutely love this ask!

When you first met Reyna it was a matter of being less annoying than the other agents since you seemed to rarely speak however that changed when she found out you couldn't. As a paragon of her community and an avid advocate for those who struggle, be them Radiant or humans, it wasn't much of a surprise when she didn't bat an eye at their newest agent being different from the rest. You couldn't speak, what of it? In her eyes you were just as worthy and capable as anyone else on the team and what mattered more was how you fought for their cause. As you made an effort to get to know the other agents she was very receptive, answering your questions and chatting with you via note pads and later texting. Once she saw how you would move your hands when talking to some of the other agents, though that was few, she would raise the question if that was easier for you and if that was the case she would learn your native language and would learn the sign language for it to her best ability. Perhaps this is why the two of you grew as close as you did as fast as you did or maybe it was just one of the many factors that helped the relationship blossom. As some agents are more dense and sign language has a bit of a learning curve, as well as isn't as common as it should be in all honesty, Reyna took her lessons seriously and offered to act as your voice when ever you'd allow while also encouraging the other agents to learn how to read your voice rather than hear it often encouraging them to sign as she helped interpret . She also would regularly hound them to be more attentive to you when you signed and visually expressed yourself, ensuring that not only her eyes found you and understood you. Once you became her partner she devoted her entire being to learning all the things you said without your hands. Keen eyes were nearly always trained on your face and body as she showers you with affection, seeing how you react so she could be alerted at the slightest change in your receptiveness. Her huntress eyes found a new use in this way. No piece of you went missed. Reyna knew your interests, how you looked when excited, the little fidgeting you did when you were trying to figure out how to sign what you wanted to say; nothing escaped her and she adored all of it and made that known. There was scarce a moment where you felt unseen or unheard and never one where you felt unloved.

Of course her efforts to be in-tune to you didn't just stop at staring and paying attention. Reyna herself started to gradually change. The other agents noted her being less verbally affectionate to you as she was others. While she would shower her beloved 'children' in words of affirmation and pet names she instead would greet you with a few sweet words. In the place of words were signing, sweet kisses placed on your head, that smile that only you seemed to get, her un-gloved fingers rubbing circles on your cheeks, shoulders, or hands. If you'd allow it she would either have her arms wrapped around you in some way or would be wrapped around yours in turn. You are her sweet little love and everyone is well aware of it. Despite never speaking her ears are still as keen as always and especially sensitive to you. From your foot steps to the way you breath she knows it all. The moment you step into a room her ears are on you and her eyes always join the moments after, a simple sign asking if its okay to come to you usually presented with them. Reyna is a woman that doesn't enjoy loud sounds due to her heightened hearing but she encourages you to make them if you need her attention and don't already have it, the other agents envy you for this but would never dare voice it. Nearly all her senses are devoted to you as is she. Reyna love's you fiercely and will defend you at all costs if allowed as she does still understand that her advocacy isn't always needed, you are after all more than capable of getting your message across as you've proved countless times. On the battle field, as signing isn't the most ideal, she was the one who bothered Killjoy into creating you a communication device to alert them of various intel or if you needed someone to 'speak' to. Because of you their call out system entirely changed for the better as it made up for other language barriers and just difficulties in communication. Reyna looked on with such pride, and a bit of smugness, as Killjoy put your name on it. Reyna would happily stay by your side for life, becoming eventually fluent in sign language and naturally using it as she spoke. You're her partner and that means she would do absolutely anything for you no matter the difficulty. If your native language, the one you signed in, was different than hers then she would also become fluent in its spoken form as an extra effort and to perhaps try and be a bit of a show off to your family/friends.

[softly-potter]

Tuesday

Summary: Weiss and Ruby have a very specific schedule.

Pairing: Weiss X Ruby

Word Count: 333

Warning: none

-

“Y’know,” Weiss pants between kisses. “This was supposed to be a one time thing.”

“Then why do you keep coming back for more?”

Weiss supposes that is a valid question; why did she keep coming back?

As Ruby pumps her fingers between Weiss’ legs, the white-haired huntress tries to pinpoint when exactly their ‘one time fuck’ had become a consist event, nearly scheduled every tuesday night.

“I guess…I don’t-”

Ruby silences her with a flick to her clit. Weiss yelps, her thighs tensing and head lulling to side, watching with hooded eyes as Ruby's fingers delve inside her. With her opposite hand, Ruby grabs Weiss’ face, holding her cheeks within her grasp.

“Just shut up,” Ruby says but her tone doesn't match the words. It's happy and light, fluffy like summer clouds. “Just shut up and let me make you feel good.”

Weiss laughs, the girlish sound tumbling from her mouth before she moans, squeezes her eyes shut. Ruby watches intently, doesn’t even look at what her hands are doing, her entire focus on the girl underneath her.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” Weiss pants, her pale skin flush and she tries to sit up, tries to lean in for a kiss but Ruby keeps her pace steady, pressure deepening. Weiss tumbles over the precipice, her voice scratchy as she comes, and Ruby can’t help the triumphant smile that graces her features.

Sitting up on shaky limbs, Weiss spots her expression and rolls her eyes. “Don’t look so smug.”

Ruby shrugs, licks her finger clean. “When a girl makes you come as much as I do, you should always look pleased to see her.”

Scoffing, Weiss stands, ignores how shaky her legs feel, and excuses herself to the bathroom, splashing cool water on her hot cheeks.

When she exits, Ruby is propped up on her bed, her headphones on her ears and she gives Weiss a wink.

“Same time next week?”

Weiss grins, chews on her lower lip as she nods. “See you tuesday.”

[star-girl69]

But You

Tsu’tey x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of death, grief, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Three- Don’t Doubt Your Dreams

—-

Mo’at hums as she rubs a paste over your arm, soothing the immediate sting immediately. After the walk back, the questions from your father and Tsu’tey, the sun is starting to set outside of Hometree.

The fires are soon lit, and if this was a normal night, you would be sitting around one with Neytiri and your parents. Instead, Mo’at rubs a paste into your scratched arms and hums.

“Better?” she asks, turning to grab a bandage to wrap the worst cut in.

“Yes,” you mutter, still feeling shaken up from seeing them and their gun so close. From all the memories it stirred up. “Thank you, Mother.”

“No trouble,” she murmurs, finishing the last of the wrap before her eyes meet yours. Ever since that day, she has always looked at you like a small piece of Sylwanin is still in you. Maybe you look like her, and just never noticed. Maybe you act like her in her absence.

Losing one daughter, Mo’at can’t lose another one.

She gives Neytiri a wider berth, seeing as she’s been trained all of her life to be a huntress. She wields her bow like it’s an extension of her body. She knows how to kill.

But you always spent your days in the healing tent with her and Sylwanin. You don’t know how to kill, and while you can shoot a bow- it’s nothing like the talent or precision most in the clan have.

Her eyes stare deeply into yours, like she’s searching for a memory she can never reach. Then, like she remembers who she’s looking at, her stare softens and you look away.

“Are you going to come to the fire?” her thumb presses into the pulse point on your wrist.

“No, no,” you murmur, sluggishly bringing yourself to your knees and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think I will just sleep early tonight.”

Her frown is evident on her face, and you think maybe she’ll command you to come to dinner anyways, but she only nods after hesitating.

“For tonight,” she says. You smile, although it doesn’t meet your eyes, and her hands loosen and you start to pull away from her- “If your dreams- if-” maybe she doesn’t even want to speak it into the air. Maybe she doesn’t want to touch the bottom, stir up the sand and cloud the water. “You can always wake up,” she decides on.

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip quickly. “I know,” you say. “I know.”

—-

“Are not you bored of that?”

You don’t bother to turn. You already know who it is. There’s this air about him, this part of him that’s forever ingrained in him and this parent of you that’s forever in him. You don’t pretend to know why.

Sometimes, asking “why” in this world is just a waste of time. It’s better to just take it in stride, as it comes, go add another notch to your belt and go on with your day. It’s easier to live, and not question why you are. It’s easier to just breathe.

“No,” you say, hearing his soft footsteps against the ground. You look through the thick foliage of the bush again, looking for any berries you missed in this spot.

“I do not understand. You do not wish to- do something?”

You snort, low enough you hope he cannot hear. He crouched next to you anyways, regardless of if he heard.

“I am doing something, Tsu’tey. It is alright to just be a healer and not a warrior, you know.”

He only hums, grabbing a large berry from a little further along the bush and dropping it into your open palm. You don’t bother to say thank you, to fill the air with such trivial words.

“But you are happy?”

You shoot him a glance, but he only stares intently in front of him.

“Yes,” you whisper, even though it might be a lie. “Are you?”

“I want more from this life than to hunt.”

You turn your sights upward, another berry, two, all going straight into the satchel around your waist.

“What is that?”

“A mate,” he shrugs. “Children.”

His words almost seem stupid to you. “You are old enough, Tsu’tey. And very desired. You can have whoever you want.”

“Maybe,” he grunts, but your heart stings with betrayal.

You’ve been drawn to him ever since you were old enough to recognize faces. You’ve wanted him ever since you could want. First, as a friend, then as something more. Soon, you’ll have none of him. Only dreams.

“Maybe?” you ask, trying to pretend your heart is not twisting oddly in your chest. This infatuation, imprint you have on him- it will lead no where. You need to realize that.

“The woman I want does not know I want her.”

“Oh,” you mumble stupidly, after waiting a second. You never let yourself dwell too much on a life with him, but it still hurts. Of course it does. You are young and just looking for your place in life. “Tell her.”

“Tell her?” he laughs. “Then I will lose her. I- I would rather have some of her than none of her.”

You have this vision of yourself facing destiny, facing the force that decides all. You imagine screaming at it, jaw unhinged and so loud you will break the world.

“Then you do not really want her.”

He scoffs. “You do not know,” he hisses.

You pick another berry, two, three, four.

“If you really want her, then you wouldn’t settle for just a piece of her. And I doubt she wants that either. Why would she want a mate who will not fight for her? Who does not want her fully?”

Silence overtakes the forest for a second, save the sound of you searching the bush, the wind rustling the plants, the small pop as you take the bright red berry from its stem.

“Of course I want her fully,” he whispers.

“Then have her.” You know it is not you, you know it is not what you deserve. You have too much bad luck already on your plate- you would never expect this much good luck to try and outweigh it.

You just want to help your friend. Your friend.

“I will,” he rumbles, and you hear him shift. You think he will leave, and even now- you know it is the best for him to go, but you don’t want him to.

Maybe Tsu’tey is right. You would rather a piece of him than none of him.

Something touches your face. Lightly, upon your cheek, but rough with scars and evidence of hard work. In your confusion, you let your neck go slack, so he barely even needs to apply much pressure to turn your head to face his.

When your find the strength to look at him, to see him, to really See him- his mouth is slightly parted, his eyes fixed on your lips.

You want to scream and push him away. You want to run into his arms, press your lips against his forever, because he is better than air. He is better than life.

“I will have her,” he repeats, finally looking up to your eyes, a silent question posed in the stillness of the forest. “If she wants me.”

“If she wants you?” you breathe, the berries and the bush and the world long since forgotten.

“If she wants me. If she will have me, let me have her.”

It is a fever dream. It is not real. “She wants you. She wants you.”

And his lips press against yours, his hand flatten across your face, holding you to him like your water that he is all too willing to drown in.

And when he runs his hand along your arm, that is when you realize there are not scratches that he skims over. This is not you.

—-

taglist:

@eywas-heir @ssc7514 @n7cje @tejas-kris @yeosxxx @iwaslikeblah @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @cawi00

everything taglist:

@monsterwasstolen @fanboyluvr @artologia-blog1 @tulipatheticee @elvyshiarieko @fluffisalliwant @fluffi19 @jeizllz @myheartfollower @fy-fy-world @minkyungseokie @ivy-plays @blueberryfailureclinic @cryingwhilereading @thatratprincessforever @dumb-fawkin-bitch @sillyblues @buttercup-beeee

[chbnews]

Guidelines For Asks

Generally I’d like to keep my rules simple so it’s in 4 categories (and a temporary #5). These rules may be edited over time.

(Orange=rule White=Explanation Pink=Additional Info)

Please don’t take this as I don’t want asks I love asks I’d just like people to know my restrictions for them so nobody is upset if their ask is deleted. <3 (also just know my asks get clogged up very easily so if I answer an ask like 4 months after it was sent I’m sorry 🥲)

Below the cut has mentions of drugs,alcohol and 18+ topics. Read at your own risk.

1

Asks that could be answered by a simple Google search (ex: what number is each cabin, what order are the cabins and so on) these will probably be deleted.

2

Inappropriate asks (this includes 18+, SOME ships, one example being ‘I heard X and X last night someone tell them to quiet down’ or anything of that sort (be mindful most ships in pjo are of MINORS, so asks like this will not be tolerated and will be deleted.) things like kissing and stuff is fine but not anything 18+

3

Now this section isn’t entirely banned, though I’d prefer to keep topics such as underage drinking/drug use off of the blog though sometimes I will answer and ask with those topics in it. Just know if you send an ask like this it has a likely chance of being deleted!!

4

Children (not followers, the huntresses don’t count as Artemis’s kids, they’re her immortal followers) of Artemis and Hera. No, there is no Children of Artemis or demigod children of Hera. Any ask that breaks this rule will be immediately deleted.

Temporary 5

Anything that involves glitter (eating,pranking with it,looking or even just the word glitter I’ve answered so many asks about glitter 😭)

If you have any questions please send me an Iris message or an @ on Discord if you’re in the server <3 Sincerely- Author Boo

[feudalconnection]

The Nomination Period for the 3rd Term 2023 Inuyasha Fandom Awards is now CLOSED!!

Hey everyone!

Below the cut you'll find a complete list of all of the Fanart nominations received for this term! You can also find it on Google Docs.

Click here for the complete list of Fanfiction nominations.

Thank you to everyone who participated in this term for taking the time to do so. We hope you enjoyed your experience! If you do not see your nomination, please reach out to us as soon as possible!

We strongly encourage that when you view a work of art or read a fanfiction, please reblog or leave a review to let the creators know how much their work and talent is appreciated!

As a reminder, we are giving 3 weeks time to enjoy all of the creations. The voting period will begin October 6th and end October 20th.

In order to be able to vote, you'll need to register so we can keep it all neat and clear. We will be posting the link to the voting form on the first day of the voting session.

Got a question? Check out our FAQ or send us an ask. You can also message one of the mods directly!

Thank you to everyone who nominated for making this 2nd Term absolutely wonderful, and happy voting!

Best Action/Adventure

“Running with the wolves” by @ashenkite

“⚔sɪʙʟɪɴɢ ʀɪᴠᴀʟʀʏ⚔” by @pachworldx-1

“Jewel of the Seven Seas” by @stardust414

Best AU/AR

“Always” by @kalcia

“Orgullo & Prejuicio” by @m2moon94

Best Canon Universe

“the dumb shit dad told u not to do” by @stillunderyourbed

“Wisteria” by @razdazberry

“Mega oof” by @devilatelier

Best Angst

“For someone you loved” by @mama-ino

“Rain” by @elevenharbor

“Final Conquest” by @ashleys-canvas

Best Dark

“INUYASHA 📿” by @masonkaye

Best Humor/Parody

“He’s talking shit” by @cherisenae

“Battle Couple” by @clearwillow

“Fuck You Sesshomaru” by @devilatelier

“Sesshoumaru as Drake Meme” by @ridiqlumdrum

“Mega oof” by @devilatelier

Best Kiss

“They are SO cute” by @brain-rot-hour

“Wisteria” by @razdazberry

“Dibujo-que-hice-con-referencias-que-vi-del-sesskag” by @inumysuzue

“Human Kissing” by @spiralofdragon

“Final Conquest” by @eliza-faust-diary

Best Character

“𓆩✧𓆪 Midoriko 𓆩✧𓆪” by @inusmasha

“Untitled” by @dazzelmethat

“Moonlit Kagome” by @theundeadfandom

“half-demon Inuyasha 🔮” by jyundeeARTs (X, formerly known as Twitter)

“Kagome Higurashi, the girl who overcame time” by @dulcealuf

“Sesshomaru🌸” by @zeldacw

Best Duo/Pairing

“It’s been a while 💛❤️🧡” by @geda-art

“Inuyasha and Sesshomaru” by @momosartgarden

“girl crush girl crush” by @moonnue

“Final Conquest” by @ashleys-canvas

“Shopping Trip!!” by @skyguyy

Best Doujinshi

“Hanyohime” by @hanyohime-comic

“Make a Wish” by @len-barboza

“From Something Old to Something New” by @clearwillow

“Mother-in-Law” by @daikiidokii

Best Redraw

“🌷 Kikyo 🌷” by @midiatamente

“Redraw manga” by Lucky_chandl (X, formerly known as Twitter)

“Redibujo del primer encuentro” by @m2moon94

“Swimsuit Kag” by @julytheartist

Best NSFW

“Keep Me Warm” by @mamabearcatfanart

“Blindfolded” by @julytheartist

“Not a shampoo bottle” by @weeeting

“she’s beauty and she’s grace” by @katerinu

Best InuKag Romance

“inukag happy summer sunset beach vibes 😎” by @justafewsmallsteps

“Welcome Home” by @katballesteros

“♥︎𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕♥︎” by HulloYokai (X, formerly known as Twitter)

Best SessKag Romance

“Drag Me Down” by @momorhea

“Locked Away” by @razdazberry

“Día de Lluvia” by @valgreys

“First Comes Marriage” by @rannyunny

Best Romance

“Aftermath” by @eliza-faust-diary

“Untitled” by @generalmoony

Best Group Depiction

“Pink Bellflower” by @tmetta

“SessKag (+ kids) go to the most magical place on earth” by @elevenharbor

Best Traditional

“Kinda proud of this one 😁” by @tarkovskyshoe

“桔梗” by @toutousai

“Tiny Paintbrush” by @mama-ino

“Cuddles from a demon cat” by @the-lone-huntress

Best Overall

“Kikyo” by @geirahood

“Locked Away” by @razdazberry

[duxbelisarius]

Thanks to @ichooseviolence for tagging me!

RULES: List eight shows for your followers to get to know you better!

Game of Thrones: This should go without saying, given that it’s successor HOTD single-handedly brought me back to this madhouse. Three Seasons of some of the greatest television ever made, an alright fourth season followed by four seasons of pure, concentrated dog piss (of which I subjected myself only to S5 and 6).

Deadliest Warrior: If not for a subpar third (and final) season, this show would be 100% GOATED. The smack talking between the experts, the weapons demonstrations, the acted out fights at the end, all of it *chef’s kiss*. The DW discussion groups on Facebook were a major stomping ground of mine, and getting to interact with the experts on the DW Experts discussion group was a highlight of my teenage years. 

The Wire: Only seen Seasons 1 and 2, still need to complete my watch through of all five seasons, but DAMN is The Wire good (also RIP Lance Reddick aka Lt. Daniels). 

Yugioh 5Ds!: This and VRAINS are the only of the Yugioh anime that I’ve watched all the way through thus far. For all the jokes about “card games on motorcycles,” 5Ds is unironically amazing. 

Justice League/Justice League Unlimited: Maybe some of the greatest children’s programming ever made, and you don’t even need to be a child to enjoy it or appreciate the stories (Wonderbat and Question x Huntress are S-tier).

Stargate SG-1 & Atlantis: Before Christopher Judge voiced Kratos, before Jason Momoa was Khal Drogo and Aquaman, there was Teal’c of Chulak and Ronon Dex. Col. Jack O’Neill is an American Hero.

Merlin: Watched it with my younger sister and loved every minute of it; it’s fun to see how far many of the actors from the show have come (esp. Tom Hopper aka Sir Percival).

Berserk: This one isn’t necessarily a show per se. There’s been two anime adaptations of the manga: the 1997 adaptation of the Golden Age Arc, and the Golden Age trilogy movies along with the 2016-17 Anime (DO NOT subject yourself to the 16-17 anime if you value your eyeballs). God willing we’ll get a proper adaptation someday, maybe when the Manga is completed.

Gonna tag @lemonhemlock, @aegonette, @cesarescabinet, @alicentcole, @chaoticcoffeequeen, @notbloodraven and @miqaelababa

[pengu-kiwis]

Morning Kiss 💋

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

I’m at the point with art when I draw what I want whenever I want- so I offer content on this small ship bc I love it 🤲🏻

[teddyeyeseddie]

Tear You Apart

Pairing: Dean x Reader

WC:1,600+

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, SMUT, Dom/Sub vibes, Oral (Fem & Male receiving, face fucking, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Drinking

A/N: Yeah this has no plot it is just smut. BUT, THIS IS WHAT YOU ALL GET FOR GETTING ME TO 100 FOLLOWERS IN A MONTH!

Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge 

The beat of the club vibrated throughout the huntress’s body, her thighs clenching at the way the red lights casted shadows on the man she had been eyeing all night.

His maroon button up hugged his shoulders so perfectly, the black shirt layered under it left little to her imagination when she dreamed about what his body looked like.

Sipping on her third gin and tonic of the night, she finally mustered up the courage to make her way across the club and towards the man.

Once he noticed she was approaching him, the smirk on his face widened, his eyes darkening, the look on his face making her heart skip a beat. She normally wasn’t the type to approach a man in a seedy club but she couldn’t live without at least learning the name of the man that had been the source of her soaked panties all night.

“Was wondering how long it was gonna take you to bring that pretty little ass over here.” The man let out, the raspiness of his voice making her insides clench around nothing.

The man reached out and grabbed at her hips, one hand digging in, the other finding its way down to her ass. His large hand kneaded at the flesh, causing her skirt to ride up, undoubtedly showing the people behind them everything.

Her hand was quick to reach behind her, trying to pull at the fabric. The man’s hand only gripped her ass tighter, her tugging at her skirt doing nothing now.

“Now don’t get all shy on me now, princess.” He breathed against her neck, goosebumps forming across her body. She looked up at him, the man chuckling at the look on her face.

Her eyes were glassed over, wide and ready to do whatever the man before her asked of her.

“You’re a good girl aren’t ya? Gonna do whatever you can to please daddy, huh?” She just nodded her head, prompting the man to let go of her ass and wrap his free hand around her wrist as he pulled her to the exit of the club.

The man all but dragged her to the motel situated across the way, his hands quick to get the door to his room unlocked.

“You know how to use your words? Gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to call you my ‘good girl’ all night?” The man questioned as his hand trailed up her side, catching at her tank top, letting it ride up her body before he finally let it go. His hand moved to ghost over her shoulder, finally resting at her neck. He then moved it to her chin, grabbing it so she was forced to look him in his eyes.

“Y-Y/N.” She finally let out.

“Mmm.. Pretty name for a pretty little thing like you. My name’s Dean, but as long as you’re screaming for me, I couldn't really give a shit what you call me.” He backed her up, the back of her knees hitting the bed, causing her to sit down and look up at him.

His hands pulled at her tank top, practically ripping it from her body. The man didn't even bother pulling her bralette over her head. Instead he pulled the straps off her shoulders, letting the fabric rest around her torso right under her breasts.

“Mmm, look at how pretty you are.” The man pushed her back onto the bed, his lips kissing their way down her body, stopping to pepper kisses above the waistline of her skirt, looking up at her from his place between her legs.

“You know, I really wanted to spend my night between your legs, but I really want to see how your lips look wrapped around my cock.” She whimpered at his words, audibly gasping when the man stood up, pulling her from the bed.

Her knees came to rest against the rough motel carpet, looking up as the man stripped, leaving him only in his boxers.

Her hands reached up, tracing the outline of his cock with her small hands. A deep groan left his mouth as he gripped the back of her head. Her fingers found their way to his sides, dipping into his waistband as she pulled them down his legs.

His cock sprung out of his underwear, slapping against his lower belly then finally settling hard and heavy between his thighs.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N? Gonna do a good job for me?”  He cooed, his hand cupped her face as his thumb brushed over her cheek. She nodded enthusiastically, her hand finding its way to his hard member.

“Wanna be really good for you daddy, I’ll be so so good for you.” She breathed out.

She slowly began to stroke him, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his tip. She moaned at the taste of him.

She spent a moment only taking in half of him, her hands lazily stroking what she wasn't fitting in her mouth.

After getting used to his size, she began to take him in further, his cockhead bumping agaisnt the back of her throat, causing Dean to throw his head back as he moaned.

“Fuck baby, thought you were gonna be little miss innocent. I didn’t think a good girl knew how to suck dick like this.” Y/N's hand reached for his, leading it to the back of her head.

“Does my good girl want me to fuck her mouth, you want to feel it when you try to talk tomorrow?” He questioned. She just nodded her head, spit dripping out of her mouth and onto her breasts.

Dean pulled her off of him, giving her a moment to breathe. Dean admired how absolutely blissed-out the woman between his legs looked. He wiped at a bit of the spit that was dripping from her mouth as he tightened the grip he had on her hair.

His other hand gripped the base of his dick, he internally groaned as he watched Y/N open her mouth as wide as she could for him.

He started out slow, his pace speeding up as she got used to the feeling of being used by him. She took everything he gave her, only gagging on him once.

Dean pulled her off of him, reaching under her arms as he threw her back onto the bed.

“As much as I loved that, I want a taste of you too sweetheart.” She all but mewled at his words, her hips wriggling as he pulled off her skirt and panties in one quick motion.

He lowered himself between her legs, wasting no time getting to work.

He licked a stripe from her dripping hole and up to her clit, Y/N’s mind almost short circuiting at the feeling.

“Taste so sweet baby, knew you would..” Before she could even respond, he lowered himself back between her legs, his thick fingers finding their way inside of her.

Between the attention he was giving her clit and the curling of his fingers, she was so close to the edge. Her thighs tightened around Dean’s head and her toes began to curl. She gasped as soon as Dean pulled away from her.

“Uh uh. If you’re coming tonight you are gonna come on my cock.” Dean breathed out as he wiped her slick from his mouth. She scrambled up the bed at his words, almost hitting the headboard.

Dean sat up on his knees, gripping her hips as he slid his dick between her folds. He pressed in ever so gently and his thumb found its way to her bundle of nerves. Y/N threw her head back, her hands gripping at the sheets causing her knuckles to whiten.

“Fuck, De- Shit.” she moaned out, Dean just chuckling at her reaction to him slowly fucking her.

“You like that baby? Want daddy to fuck you harder?” He cooed. His thrusts stayed at the same pace but the force of them became stronger, causing her breasts to bounce with each thrust.

“Please faster.” She moaned out, Dean chuckled and grabbed her waist tighter, slamming into her at a relentless pace.

They stayed like this for a moment, the two of them getting so lost in their pleasure neither of them could think straight.

Y/N’s hand found its way to his lower belly, pushing at it as a sign for him to stop. She pushed at his shoulder, causing him to pull out of her.

He began to question what she was doing but as soon as Y/N made it to her knees and pushed harder at his shoulder, he got the memo.

He laid back on the bed, smirking as Y/N threw her leg over him, rubbing her wetness along his shaft. She reached down between them for his dick, slowly sinking down.

Dean clenched his jaw, admiring how her tits bounced each time she impaled herself on him.

She leaned forward, bracketing his head between her forearms as she slowed her pace, her silver necklace swaying over Dean’s face.

She began to get tired, her arms starting to weaken. She lowered her head to the crook of his neck, Dean sucking a breath between his teeth which caused Y/N to recoil.

She looked down at Dean’s chest, the shape of a cross was burned into his skin, in the perfect shape of the cross that rested between the valley of her breasts. She looked back at Dean’s face, his green eyes she became so fond of, replaced by complete black.

“Darlin’ Im gonna fucking tear you apart.”

And she let him.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Through The Years

Jotun!King!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: This story takes you and Loki on a journey through the twins life. From their first steps all the way to their first time falling in love.

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, insecurities, a bit of angst... Let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I know this one is a very short chapter, sorry! 🥺 The next one's gonna be longer, I promise! Nevertheless, I absolutely love it. 🥰

This sequel is based on @eleniblue 's ideas. 😊

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @theaudacitytowrite @jennyggggrrr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @valencia-rou @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @linaax @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @lokiforever @anukulee @multifandom-worlds (Continuing in the comments)

❄️ Chapter One ❄️ Chapter Three ❄️

Ice Flower AU Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

Chapter Two - Sharing the Same Blood

You were seated on the little sofa; barely started to read your book in order to take a breather from the stressful day. It was always stressful, when Loki was away on royal duty and you had to rule Jotunheim alone.

Suddenly, impatient knocks drummed against the door to the royal chambers. You closed your book shut again, and put it away. There were only two persons in the world who knocked like this. "Come in!" You called out, smiling at what was to come.

"Mommy!" The twins both yelled in union storming through the door. They ran over to you and jumped on the sofa to join you, each boy cuddling against your side. Váli on the left, Áki on the right. "Hey boys!" You welcomed them with open arms, of course, having seen them lastly early this morning. They had been with their tutor the whole day, learning about Jotunheim, the nine realms, how to behave as princes and so on.

You wrapped an arm around your sons and placed a kiss on each forehead. "How were your lessons today? I heard Arvid took you to the city?" You felt them nod. "Mhm," said Áki, while Váli revealed more. "He wanted to show us the market." "Oh, great. I love the market. Did you like it?" At your question, both boys went quiet, nobody answering your question. Their excitement gone. You frowned, noticing immediately that you obviously asked the wrong question. Something was clearly off. "You didn't like it, huh?" Both shrugged their shoulders. "Now what kind of answer is that? What happened? Was Arvid too strict?" "No, mommy, the market was great, but..." Váli started, not finishing his sentence, causing his twin brother to jump in. "But when we were allowed to go play, there was a boy, who, uh, who asked us if we truly are twins..." You frowned even more. Now that was strange. "Why?" "He said because me and Váli look different and not like brothers."

After those words you heard a small, soft sob coming from your left, which wrenched your heart. "He said I-I l-look strange." You immediately shook your head. Turning softly to face Váli, you brushed your hand through the thick, blonde curls on top of his head. "No, sweetheart. You don't look strange. You look like me - and I couldn't be prouder." Matching eyes looked up into yours, still clouded by tears. "But why do Áki and I look different? We are brothers - or not?"

That was the first time in eight years you - or Loki were faced with this question. Sure, they looked different from the day they were born, but the boys never questioned it, because it was normal. Everyone in the palace treated them equally, so they seemingly didn't have the need to ask. Until now. Until somebody would 'judge' them. And you knew that day would come. It was just a matter of time - and well... Today was the day.

"Of course, you are brothers," you started, placing a kiss on both princes foreheads. Luckily Váli's tears had subsided by now. "You two look different because of your heritage." "Our h-h... henri-age?" Asked Áki, clearly confused. You giggled at the pronunciation of the word. Clearly a word they weren't familiar with - yet. It was time for them to learn about it, though. "Yes, love. Heritage. It's a word to describe where you're coming from. Where your home is, and what the traditions, culture and so on are." They were looking at you expectantly and confused, but also very excited and intrigued. "Okay, let me explain. You know this is home, right? Jotunheim." Both, Váli and Áki nodded. "But you also know there are other realms. Midgard, for example." And once again, a nod. "Right. So... Jotunheim - realm of the Frost Giants. Like you know, they are tall, have cerulean skin, beautiful ruby eyes and unique ridges on their skin. It's your daddy's home. He is a Jotun; born and raised here." "I look like daddy!" Áki giggled excitedly. You smiled, "You do." booping his nose. "But I don't look like your dad, right? Jotunheim isn't my heritage. I was born and raised in Asgard, like your uncle Thor. I'm an Æsir. Fair skin, mostly blonde hair and very beautiful." Váli frowned; the gears in his head turning. "Is that why I look like you, mommy?" You nodded at him; running once again your hand through his hair. "Yes, that's right. You two are the perfect, wonderful product of the love your father and I share. Nature just decided to make you look different and unique."

The twins looked up at you, stunned. "Wow..." Váli and Áki gasped in union, causing you to smile at their sugar-sweet reaction. They were so pure and innocent - and you enjoyed it while it lasted. "But... Uh, mommy?" "Yes, Áki?" "How did you meet daddy? Arvid said that the realms are far apart and not that easy to reach..." You smiled, immediately recalling the memories of yours and Loki's first encounter, back when you were younger. "Let's sit in front of the fire place; make ourselves comfortable. I'm going to tell you a story..." That was exactly what you did; telling them how you met the love of your life.

"And that's how I met your father." You finished telling the love story of you and Loki your eight-year-old twins. The boys were sitting on the fur, criss-crossed in front of you and the fireplace with wide eyes, hanging on your every word. Of course, you told the story more 'romantically' and left out the juicy, dirty and 'dangerous' details. They weren't meant for children's ears. "Wow..." Váli gasped. "So you are actually a warrior, mommy?" Asked Áki. You chuckled, running your hands through both boy's curls. "If you wish to call it that, yes." "Is that why daddy fell in love with you?" You had to suppress a giggle at your son's sweet, innocent question. "Perhaps, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you have to ask your father."

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 my heart is a hornet's nest 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven’s daughter)

Rating: T

Summary:  It's been thirteen months since Kraven was killed by Venom. Despite everything, you're still in the city and helping a nerd - named Peter - in his garage try and save the world. It's hard to ascertain where your old life as a hunter ends and your new life begins. Somedays you can't even tell if you're moving forward or not. But, the pull you feel towards Peter is magnetic. And it's bound to end in catastrophe if you pursue him.

Even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around. He can't risk it. He can't risk you. And the long nights in his garage are really, really starting to wear at him.

Prompt: "Are you afraid of me?" / "Do I look afraid?"

tags: enemies to Lovers/enemies to friends to lovers, no use of y/n, secret identity, unresolved romantic tension, first kiss, light angst, slow burn, mutual pining !!

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

Kraven snaps your name like a whip.

“You’ll oversee this one, huntress.” he says without looking away from the screen.

A mixture of pride and trepidation curdles beneath your skin. Kraven is trusting you, but he trusts plenty of his hunters. You lick your lips. The transfer of Martin Li. You promise Kraven that you’ll put the team together and leave before the hour.

No one questions Kraven’s decision. You don’t get special treatment purely because you’re his blood. In fact, if you look closely (which you won’t), you’d say that Kraven treats you worse than his other hunters. He expects—he demands – more of you.

There will be a target on your back when Kraven completes his hunt and finds a worthy enough predator to kill him. But that’s nothing new. You’ve had a target on your back since you were young enough to understand the way of the world; predator and prey, hunter and hunted, kill or be killed.

You lift your arm-- THUNK!—the throwing knife hits its bullseye.

“Huntress,” a hunter named Erik approached you, “you want five VTOLs?”

THUNK! This one is a little off-center and you blame Erik for distracting you. You exhale, balancing your weight, and lining up your shot. Erik is bold. Kraven named you the leader of Li’s abduction. He shouldn’t be asking questions. Your eyes narrow.

You pivot on your heel, fast as a viper’s strike, and flashing silver spins through the air. It’s beautiful.

Erik makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Your throwing knife wobbles from where its pinned Erik’s hood to the wall. His eyes flick to the blade. He’s lucky you didn’t miss. Otherwise the blade would’ve sank into his throat or he would lack an ear for the mission ahead.

“That’s what I said,” you yank the knife from the wood, freeing him, “wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Erik says, voice tight and clipped, and his eyes darken. You know he is loyal to Kraven, not you. If he managed to kill you – Kraven would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t mourn you. Nature is cruel and so is your father. You sheath your throwing knives while keeping one eye on the hunter.

Erik hasn’t left which means he could be planning his next move. You tense and wait for the inevitable blow. Come on, you think, try it. You’d be happy to fight off your frazzled, nervous energy. You should probably conserve your strength in case things with Martin Li go bad.

Erik nods, “huntress,” and leaves.

You roll your shoulders and return to the weapons cache. I’ll bring Martin Li to Kraven and he’ll have his wonderful fight. He’ll achieve his dream.

Nothing will go wrong. Nothing could. You’ve been planning this for months.

******

Peter wobbles to his feet, his head ringing. Whoever these guys are—they’re serious. The tech they’re using is insane. Invisible drones. Laser swords. What’s next? A few giant mecha-robots intent on crushing Harlem? He shouldn’t think about it – he doesn’t want to jinx it.

He stares into the face of the capable, dangerous stranger with smoke burning his nostrils and scalding his throat.

Dark soot clings to your clothes, your expression venomous and focused, furrowed and tight. The light frames you, bouncing off the east river in sparks, and refracting over the small throwing knives clutched between your knuckles. She’s fast, like really fast. Fast enough that he’s concerned you have a spider-sense of your own. Who the hell are these guys? Miles kicks a drone in mid-air and metal-on-metal crunches together like a compacted soda can.

Peter jumps before the blade can slice through him. It whistles through the air, hits and – literally bounces! -- off a metal pole. His lenses widen. He twists his body. His nerves ignite with impending danger, but he’s in the already dodging the first blade.

He’s Spider-Man.

He can’t stop physics.

Your second blade cuts through the air and burns when it cuts his shoulder. He lands on his feet, a sharp inhale drawn through his teeth, and resists the urge to check the injury. She can’t have that many knives on her!

Your lips quirk, “are you afraid of me?”

“Do I look afraid?”

“Hard to say,” you make a gesture around your face, “with the mask and all.”

“Where’s yours?” he propels through the air with his webs slung behind him, “I thought--” you deflect his punch, “most bad guys—” you stumble backward when he kicks your chest, but recover quickly, “want to keep their identities a secret.”

“I have no shame in who I am,” your leg swings over his head.

“So uhhh...who are you?” he quips. His palms land flat on the cold, metal surface and his spine curves, his body moving like a question mark, and avoiding the onslaught of your assault.

“Serious question!” he says a little louder this time while your silver knife dances through the light as it carves his webs into flimsy pieces.

A burst of green flares flash against the gray smoke. His heart flips. The raft jolts to the side. They’re going to drag the ship underwater! The heavy-duty spears punch through the metal as if it was made of tissue paper.

“We gotta get this ship free!”

Peter spares a final glance over his shoulder and you leap from the other side. Are you landing on another boat? A life raft? Are you going to swim away? He has no clue. He can’t spare any further brain cells on it though. He slides down the tilted raft toward the giant spears that function like fish-hooks into the industrial, military transport raft.

***

It’s been approximately thirteen months since Kraven met his end.

You’ve found that keeping count provides some strange, twisted comfort. You wake up, check your calendar, and strike another tally mark into the wall. It feels good to carve the line into the sheet-rock, little flecks of white catching on your thumb and falling like cremated remains onto the hardwood floor and clinging to your socks.

Sometimes you run into old hunters, vying for territory, and hoping to claim some scraps that Kraven left behind. Many, however, fled to Kraven’s homeland to play out the tragedy of a power vacuum and continue Kraven’s legacy.

None of them have impressed you. Not the ones that have sought you out, hoping to kill Kraven’s kin, and earn glory. And definitely not the ones who you’ve run into accidentally. Those are the worst. They’re cowards. They’re mice. You stumble upon them, trying to eat the crumbs off Kraven’s table, and your retribution is swift and bloody and a pain in the ass to clean up.

You wonder what Peter Parker would say if he knew. You pull your sweater over your head. Peter, the nerd running a research foundation out of his garage, happens to be your only...well, friend is the wrong word...but he’s your only something in this city.

You aren’t supposed to have ‘somethings’. Attachments, as Kraven would call them. Attachments made you weak. You thought it was hypocritical for your father preach this advice when he had a wife and multiple children. Not anymore though, you finish lacing up your boots, everyone’s dead now except for me.

The cassette clicks with a satisfying ‘CLUNK’ into the player and you slide your headphones over your ears. The player was a gift from Peter. No. Gift is the wrong word. It’s on a loan.

“What’s this?” You cradled the cassette player, “it looks ancient.” You twisted the sharp-grooved circles. They remind you of strange teeth. You click the play and pause button. It’s clunky. It’s right-angles and lackluster chrome and the buttons make noise.

It’s the antithesis of the technology you grew up with around Kraven.

You love it.

Peter rolls his chair over to you, “it’s not ancient. Maybe vintage. God, do we call it vintage?” he sounds so baffled that you almost smile, “you know, record players and vinyl are making a big comeback so it’s only a matter of time before Walkman do too.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, “do you want it?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not using it obviously.” He smiles, “I think I have a few cassettes lying around and there’s no shortage of music shops in Brooklyn.”

Your fingers tighten around the device. The wild part of you, the part that Kraven nurtured through violence and toxic loyalty, wants to throw the device on the ground. See how sturdy it is and compare it to the tactical, military-grade equipment you grew up with. How many pieces will it break into? A dozen?

You gaze into Peter’s earnest face. His eyes are warm, light mahogany. There are soft lines that kiss the corners of his eyes. You think when he is old, he will have many wrinkles around his eyes, and it takes a second longer than normal for your lungs to refill.

“I’ll borrow it,” you say, unable to accept his random kindness, “and return it before our work is done.”

“Great!” Peter coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, that sounds good.”

The cassette clicks, whirring warm in your palm, and switching the song. The subway rushes past in a gust of tepid, moist air that smells both stale and greasy. You scan the crowd. The citizens range from individuals wearing jean jackets with sewn patches, to baggy street wear, to plastic bags on shoes, to gym athletics and smart watches.

Someone gets on the train wearing a camouflage parka. Your spine stiffens. Your fingers twitch to the weapons hidden inside your coat. Do I know your face? You shift your body and peer at the subway windows, allowing the ghostly transparent reflection to reveal the stranger’s face.

As you wait for the right angle, the right lighting, you consider your options. Tail them out of the train—could be a trap, but their numbers are never that high. Get close, press the blade to the artery in their thigh, let them see your face before you sink the blade in and leave on the next stop. The timing would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for you. Bail on Pete and spend the next several days tracking the stranger until you’ve found and confirmed their hideout. An ambush. Quick and silent.

The stranger coughs into their sleeve and your fingers fall away from your knife.

You’re glad Pete isn’t here. You’ve never traveled together and you likely never will. It’s safer that way. It keeps him out of your personal life.

“That’s the problem with attachments,” you mumble to yourself, “you start wondering what they might say if they knew you.”

*****

Pete rubs his eyes with his fists, “do you hear birds or is that just in my head?”

You don’t lift your head from the microscope, “it’s birds.”

He yawns. There have been plenty of late nights in his garage shared with you, but this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because of the mercurial light flickering along the planes of your face.

Maybe it’s the notes by your hands, the edges of your fingers smeared black from ink.

Maybe it’s the unplugged headphone wire dangling from your throat and brushing ever-so-often against your exposed collarbones.

Shit. He blinks, looking away. He can’t get mixed up. He’s grateful to you. You donated the notes first, but then pieces of Kraven’s equipment, and then...you came around more and more. You wanted to see what he was doing, wanted to see his progress, or ‘see how helpful your notes are.’ He likes it. He likes having you around.

But, even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to risk you too. And it’s not because you can’t fight. To him, you’re finding your place outside of Kraven’s shadow and he doesn’t want to mess that up. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around.

The sequences before him blur into gibberish. He peeks up through his hair back to you.

Your name is the first word out of his mouth, followed shortly by “you’re bleeding!”

“I tried to catch the sample,” your voice is laced with frustration, “I can’t believe I dropped it.”

“It’s fine,” he opens the first-aid kit that’s stowed beneath the desk, “let me see.”

***

You blink at Peter. Earnest, helpful, kind Peter. You cradle your hand to your chest. It stings, but you’ve faced hornets stronger than this. The tiny shards of glass bounce colorful reflections from the holiday lights strung around Peter’s garage. The wild voice tells you to dig the shards out with your nails.

The blood is starting to stain the hem of your sweater.

Peter doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch away. His offered hand holding the gauze doesn’t shake.

You swallow. Why isn’t he shying away from the woman made of shrapnel? Doesn’t he know you’re lethal?

“What?” his eyebrows lift, “are you afraid of me? Or is it medical care in general?” soft humor folds into his brown eyes, “I promise my co-pays are reasonable.”

His words shatter the stiffness of your muscles.

You say, “do I look afraid?” you extend your bloody hand to him.

His fingers curl lightly and gently around your wrist. He flushes the wounds with water before plucking the glass out with a pair of tweezers. His brow furrows in concentration. Your neck prickles and a tingling sensation travels down your spine.

You’ve seen his furrowed brow a hundred times. However, you’ve never experienced it as the subject. Peter holds an antiseptic wipe between his long fingers. His touch is unbearably gentle and you wish you had something to compare it to.

“This might hurt a bit,” the soft, low rumble of his voice is strangely intimate.

The words fall out of your mouth, “I’m used to it.”

“Are we going to unpack that?” He slides the wipe across your angry, throbbing skin.

“No,” your lips twitch, “unless you have a psychology degree I’m unaware of.”

You’re fascinated by the way his fingers move along yours, light and precise, carefully wiping away the blood and wrapping your hand in gauze.

He says, “maybe it’s time for a career change.”

You smile. “What career?”

Peter chuckles, “okay, I walked into that one.”

His eyes lift to yours and his jaw slackens, like he’s finally caught the creature stalking him in the woods, and his fingers twitch on your wrist. The charged moment hangs undisturbed in the air, sending signals through the ether and rearranging the flow of blood in your veins.

His cheeks flush rosy and sweet. The pink hue reminds you of that pivotal morning a few months ago when Spider-Man gave you a sunrise and Pete’s number and a hope for a different future. Your fingers curl into his. And the carefully wrapped gauze prevents you from feeling the warmth of his palm. The wild voice tells you to rip the bandages off and run home. Your knees bump into his.

There’s always so little distance between you.

It’s a small garage, after all.

You tilt forward and hear Pete’s sharp inhale. There isn’t a moment of hesitation. Not for you. You know when to strike, when to move, and when to hide. It’s been drilled into you since birth. Hesitation is a lack of courage, in confidence, and you’ve never lacked either of those.

Peter’s mouth collides with yours.

Your ever-present and paranoid guard slips and you close your eyes to savor it—savor him.

The pliant softness of his lips melds into yours and your exhale shudders between your lips. His hand slides from your throat and holds your cheek, his thumb pressed into your cheekbone, and your hip bumps into the side of his workbench when you stand.

Peter remains on the stool, his neck arched, and his lithe legs part for you to enter the space between them. The thrill illuminates your chest like a red flare against a black sky. His lips play against yours, eager and a little clumsy, and you clutch the front of his wrinkled cotton shirt.

He mumbles your name.

“Shh,” you nose skims along his, recapturing his lips, because you think words might ruin it. The hanging lights flash their merry little dance. There’s fragments of glass under your boots. Ink stains your fingers, blood stains your sweater, and Peter’s tongue stains your lips.

You’ve experienced blood lust. You’ve felt it pounding through your ears and sharpening your focus into razor-thin virulence. You’re familiar with the excitement of a good hunt, a worthy opponent, a well-matched fight. Spider-Man, you think, I’ve felt this with him. But those were mixed with violence, and blood, and bruises.

This – this moment with Peter – is wholly different. Your heart pumps the same blood, pushing it through arteries and valves, but your hands move to caress, to clutch, and stroke through the fine strands of his hair. Your lungs tremble, not in pain, but in elation. The passion rolls through you in waves of syrup and brushes your skin like branches of fir.

Peter’s phone buzzes – loud and incessant – and he groans before tearing his mouth from yours. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright, and his chest heaves with hungry gulps of air. You’re glad to know you aren’t the only one affected by the strong pull of – whatever this is – between you.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta--” he lifts the phone from the table, “hello?”

You watch Peter’s face while he talks on the phone. He’s too expressive. He’d make a terrible hunter. And probably a bad poker player, too. You want to kiss him again just for the hell of it. And feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your palms, feel his breath mingling with yours, his tongue and the blunt force of his teeth.

“I have to go out, um, do you want to come with?” he tilts his chin toward the garage door, “we could – uh – get something to eat along the way?”

You hands twitch at your sides. Your coat, draped on the desk chair, is laden with hidden pockets for knives and darts and small vials of poison. An arsenal for protection, an arsenal for vengeance, the truth of your soul. A soul that Peter cannot – should not – bear witness to.

“Can’t.”

His expression deflates, but he recovers with an easy-going smile.

He shakes his head, “that’s cool,” and says, “another time then.”

You make a noncommittal sound.

***

You finish setting up the tripwire at your apartment door and wipe your palms on your sweatpants. The windowpanes glisten with raindrops, painting the empty corners dark blue, and blurring the myriad of ever-changing traffic lights.

You scratch beneath your ear, upsetting your headphones, and flop onto the couch. The cassette whirs like a little hamster running through its wheel as the song fills your head and blocks out the honking below. You’ve grown to like the city of noise, the city that never sleeps. It’s a concrete jungle. A unique hunting ground.

Tap, tap, tap --

You jerk upright and your head whirls to the noise. Spider-Man perches on the ledge of your window, his red and blue suit shiny and dripping. You cautiously close the distance and begin to disarm the trap before unlatching it. It creaks noisily as it slides open and old paint chips cling to the windowsill.

The cool wet air is tinged with the scent of exhaust fumes.

“Weird time to visit,” you say.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He slips through the window like a salmon and lands soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

You’re going to have to move. You don’t want Spider-Man keeping tabs on you.

“But this isn’t a social call,” he continues, “I need your help with something.”

You lift one eyebrow, “I’m not a mercenary,” then you add, “and even if I was, I doubt you could afford me.”

Spider-Man laughs. “It’s nothing like that!”

You fold your arms across your chest. Spider-Man gives you the vague details of a criminal that he’s had trouble tracking down, could use your expertise, and fighting skills, and so and so forth. It’s a good pitch, you’ll give him partial credit for effort, but you’re not interested in becoming a vigilante – or a hero.

“So, what do you say? We’ve teamed up before.”

Against the symbiote. But, your motivations were selfish. You weren’t helping Spider-Man or trying to save the city. You were weakening Venom.

“No thanks.”

“What?” His lenses widen, “seriously? After my whole speech and everything?”

“Try a power point next time.” You shrug, “I’m retired. No more fighting for me.”

Spider-Man glances around your apartment and there’s evidence of your hypocrisy across every surface. A case of black, tactical arrowheads sits on your coffee table. There’s several target posters hanging on the wall across from your couch with pockmarks embedded into the paper. There’s unfinished gadgets and an open toolbox on the floor near the kitchen where you like to eat breakfast and tinker.

“You’re a bad liar,” there’s a smile in his voice, “just this once, huntress, that’s all. For old times sake.”

You muster the energy to glare at him, but it lacks true heat. “You mean the old times when I was actively trying to kill you?”

Spider-Man shrugs languidly, “we all have bad days.”

That wildness, the hunter that lives inside you, under your skin and in the marrow of your bones is grinding its teeth and trashing into your ribs. It’s hard to determine where you begin and the hunter ends or if they’re destined to forever be intertwined.

You’re a wildcat, unable to be truly domesticated and all your attempts have been in vain.

But, then you remember the warmth of Peter’s lips, his gentle hands, and genuine laughter. You tell yourself, there is room for softness inside of me, for even tigers can purr.

You tell Spider-Man to wait while you get dressed.

“One time,” you hold up a finger, “that’s it.”

“One time.” he agrees with a nod.

Together, you rush into the monotone rain-soaked evening for your first hunt since Kraven’s death.

[rere-the-writer]

Title: A new life

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Winchester!Reader

Summary: You never really wanted to be a hunter but after a hunter had gone bad, you were saved by an unlikely hero.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Protective!Elijah, Smut, violence

It was cold and wet as you coughed up water dragging your bloody self out of the river, you could feel blood seeping though your shirt as you remembered what happened. You were on a hunt with your brothers even though you didn't want to be there. Demons had showed up and you remembered the sound of Dean screaming your name as Sam yelled for you to shoot when the demons attacked you.

"Poor thing, don't worry I'll help you." You heard a smooth baritone voice say as you felt someone lifting you up just before you passed out.

Elijah was helping Hayley with her wolves even though he didn't want to watch Hayley be affectionate with Jackson, seemly to make him jealous. Elijah stopped catching the scent of blood....human blood and he turned to find where it was coming from.

"Elijah?" Hayley questioned watching the vampire head towards the river and Hayley quickly followed with Jackson. Elijah kept going until he saw you crawling weakly from the water and took off his coat placing it over you.

"Poor thing, don't worry I'll help you." Elijah says softly lifting you up into his arms. Hayley came jogging up with Jackson stopping seeing you in Elijah's arms. Elijah couldn't help but feel like apart of him needed you and drawn to you.

"Elijah, what is this?"

"A huntress judging by her anti-possession tattoo. I am taking her back to my place to heal her."

"No, you should leave her Elijah. It is dangerous to have her around." Hayley says as Elijah looked at her not caring as you needed help and Elijah was going to do it. Hayley pulled out her phone to call Rebekah as Elijah passed her carrying you back to his apartment.

Elijah got you cleaned up and wrapped up your wounds and put one of his old shirts on you then went to get you water for when you woke. Elijah sat in a chair reading waiting for you to wake up, you woke gasping then groaned rolling onto your side pausing heart fluffering seeing a handsome man sitting in a chair reading.

"You're awake. Here let me help you sit up, do you need some water?" His voice was low soothing to you as you dumbly nodded drinking the water he handed you. You took note where you were wounded feeling bandages wrapped around your abdomen, your wrist and a thigh.

"Hmmm thank you. I'm Y/N Winchester." You say knowing that Dean would be upset with you being so trusting of this man.

"I'm Elijah Mikaelson, pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman." Elijah said smiling gently taking your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles as you flushed and heart skipping a beat.

"Where am I?"

"My home in Algiers." Elijah tells you checking your bandages glad you had stopped bleeding as you watched him. You wondered why the vampire saved you as you knew of the Mikaelsons from all the research you did on his family. After reading the stories of the Mikaelsons, you had developed a crush on Elijah so seeing him in person made you heart race.

"Oh....thank you."

"Your most welcome little huntress." Elijah said watching your cheeks warm as he looked over your other wounds. Elijah, much like you, knew of the Winchester and there was something about you pulling him to you as he couldn't help but be attracted to you.

"So....what happens now?"

"You'll stay with me until you are healed enough to leave." Elijah says helping you out of bed taking you to the kitchen and sat you in a chair and began to make you something to eat. You watching Elijah work as one thing bothered you as it was on your mind.

"Why save me?"

"Because it would have been wrong of me to leave you to die." Elijah tells you smiling place a plate of pasta in front of you watching you take a bite lighting up pulling a chuckle from Elijah. You complement Elijah on his cooking and Elijah felt his chest fill with pride.

The Original had grown to adore having you around as you healed and you had gotten comfortable with Elijah as you had forgotten what it was like healing the old fashion way as Castiel would heal you right away. You also surprisingly got along with Elijah's siblings much to Hayley's annoyance as she hoped that they would agree with her and thought Klaus would agree on leaving you but the hybrid trusted Elijah and left it at that.

"Beautiful." Elijah whispered making you jump looking to see Elijah leaning down next to your ear looking at your drawing pad where you were drawing a picture of Klaus and Hope. You flushed looking at the sketch nibbling on the end of the pencil as Elijah smiled finding it cute.

"Thanks." You muttered feeling shy as Elijah picked up on your racing heart as he always payed attention to your heart with every skip whenever he would lightly flirt with you or shower you with small acts of affection. Elijah learned you were a bit touched starved during your stay with him which he was happy to shower you with affection and soft touches.

Elijah was no fool he knew you had feelings for him and he was more than happy to return the feelings in small ways that wouldn't overwhelm you. Elijah adored you to the point his siblings noticed.

"Do your draw often?"

"I used too....stopped because Dean wanted me to learn to be a hunter after John's death." You tell Elijah as he frowned there were bits and pieces you told Elijah of your childhood being only two years younger than Sam only sharing a father with the brothers. You were drunk mistake as your mother called you and only taken by John after your mother was killed by drunk driving of course you barely got along with your half older brothers.

"Well my sweet huntress, I think you should pick it up again."

Six months into your stay with Elijah, you were fully healed but both you and Elijah were in no rush for you to leave while staying with the Original, he showed you how to fight. You learned a lot more from him than from Dean or Sam, Elijah showed you how to relay on your skills and not on your gun unlike Dean telling you that a hunter's best friend was his gun

You were in the gym with Elijah holding a fake knife as he wanted you to sharpen your knife skills as you found that you enjoyed using a blade a bit better than a gun. Elijah stood across from you rolling up his sleeves as you twirled your fake knife excited to train with Elijah.

"Now remember lesson one?"

"Knife is better than gun because it is best to be silent." You say preening at Elijah's praise and the vampire had you attack him which was easier said than done. As you landed on your back many times when you finally got the best of Elijah.

The vampire landed on his back with a grunt then felt you press the fake knife to his thoat. Elijah swallowed feeling incredibly turned on looking up at your flushed face.

"Very good little huntress." Elijah said panting seeing your chest heave as you panted and your light brown reddish curls fell from your ponytail. Sweat rolled down between your breast Elijah swallowed, his eyes flickering to your lips really wanting to kiss you.

You flushed kissing Elijah suddenly unable to handle the tension between you two. Elijah growled against your mouth quickly gaining control flipping you both over caging you under him returning the kiss.

"Eli....I...wan..." You were cut off when Elijah rolled his hips pressing against yours as you were glad you chose tights to wear feeling how hard Elijah was. You whimpered as you were writhing under Elijah when he easily tore your shirt leaving you in a sports bra. Elijah kissed you hard as his hands romed and your legs wrapped around his hips.

"That's my sweet girl." Elijah praised against your neck feeling you roll your hips against his as you whined for more. Your back hit the softness of his sheets as you noted that you both were in Elijah's bedroom.

Elijah growled feeling you bite his bottom lip as he kiss you more roughly tearing off your tights and bra. You moaned loudly gripping Elijah's sheets as he buried his face between your thighs enjoying the sounds he pulling from you as he made you cumon his tongue twice.

"Elijah....wait." You panted as Elijah lifted your legs spreading them open before stopping moving over you caging you under him worry written all over his face watching you bite your bottom lip.

"Want to stop?"

"No no....I...it is just that I am a virgin...I kno...." You were cut off when Elijah swooped in kissing you deeply as you cling to Elijah. You were a little embarrassed to be a virgin still as it was hard to be in a relationship when two older brothers that seemed to control every part of your life so you flet a little shy.

"If you want to continue then we can and I'll be as gentle as I can." Elijah says watching you carefully then growled when you pulled him down kissing him roughly as he got the hint. You pulled away crying out tighten your legs around his hips when he thrust into you with one swift go.

It was long before Elijah was pounding into you making it very memorable for you as he made you cry out all night. Morning light pouring into Elijah's bedroom as you were curled up on top of him as he woke smiling kissing forehead hearing Kol and Finn in his kitchen when you woke nuzzling his neck.

"Morning....carry me? I can't feel my legs."

"Of course baby. I apologize for being so rough."

"Always the gentleman but I am fine." You tell Elijah placing kisses on his neck as Elijah moved getting out of bed and lifting you with him. You wrapped around Elijah like a koala and Elijah found he loved seeing you in his shirt noting to allow you to wear them whenever you wanted.

"About time. We were wondering when you were going to make a move 'Lijah." Kol teased as he smirked seeing Elijah walking in with you wrapped around him.

"Watch it Kol." Elijah says placing you down in a chair and Finn gave you breakfast. You flushed at how Elijah's siblings kept pushing you to date the older Mikaelson.

"Her brothers are in town." Finn says as you froze wondering why your brothers were in New Orleans. Elijah turned from his spot at the coffee maker eyes narrowed while you were worried.

"Why?"

"The big scary Original vampire is holding thier sister hostage and torturing her." Kol says waving his hand as you frowned knowing Dean is going to cause trouble until he finds you.

"I see, I'll keep an eye out."

It was cold evening as Elijah lit a fire in the fireplace then turned to you where you sat on the couch as he moved his hands up your legs. Elijah placed kisses on your neck as your arms were tied behind your back and a blindfolded as you were bare to Elijah.

Your breathing hitched feeling Elijah's mouth on your thighs and placed your legs over his shoulders pulling out a loud moan from you when Elijah buried his face between your thighs. You shook as you came on Elijah's tongue as he continued pulling loud moans from you pushing you into overstimulation. Elijah pulled away untied your arms leaving you blindfolded as he kissed you having you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Such a good girl. Are you ready for me?" Elijah asked praising you as he kissed along your neck as you carefully touched his chest gripping his shirt trembling. You trusted Elijah completely as he made sure you were comfortable with being blindfolded as you nodded.

It happened so suddenly as the blindfold came off and you were dressed in Elijah's shirt and placed behind him as in the doorway stood your brothers. Elijah was angry that you both were interrupted of exploring what you were comfortable of doing in bed.

"Sam, Dean?!" You say peeking out from behind Elijah as the men stood there looking you over seeing one of Elijah's shirts on you and love bites that litter your neck. Elijah growled deeply when Dean stepped forward clearly challenging the Original to get to you.

"Y/N, sleeping with the enemy?"

"Me and Elijah are in a relationship." You tell Dean lacing your fingers with Elijah's as he reached for your hand then raised it placing a kiss on it making Dean narrowed his eyes at the vampire.

"Relationship? He is nothing but a blood sucking monster, he doesn't really care for you."

"Do not question me. I seemly care more for your sister than you do." Elijah says and that's when all hell broke lose, Dean attacked Elijah and the vampire fought back with Sam holding you back when you move to stop Dean

You froze speechless as Elijah fell to the ground with a stake in his chest and you rushed to him after pushing Sam away. You whimpered cupping Elijah's cheek as Sam and Dean watched surprised.

"Leave." You said lowly having Elijah's head in your lap after pulling the stake out as Dean frowned stepping forward as you got into a heated argument with the oldest Winchester leaving angry as you were left alone with Elijah's body. You ran your finger through his dark hair worried as it was three hours later when he finally he woke feeling your head on his chest.

"Baby?" You heard Elijah's low baritone voice as you snapped your head up tearing up see Elijah wake. You hugged Elijah as he sat up leaning back against the couch pulling you into his lap.

"Are you okay?"

"I am fine. Where are your brothers?"

"Don't know, don't care." You say nuzzling Elijah's neck as he sighed holding you close kissing your head as you both deciding to go to bed knowing you'll still have to deal with your brothers in the morning.