#i stare at the ceiling and there's this little spider. i saw him build his web over the course of several days

[resonabilis-echo]

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[ghostboneswrites2]

Silent Night || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Request from my old blog: "I was wondering if you could to a little thing of daryl and a female mute reader? If you can, maybe selective mutism, so there can be some trust building themes and things! Just fluff, and two idiots in love"

Summary: You get stuck in a cabin overnight with Daryl. He tries to get to know you. Lots of trust building and cute bonding.

18+MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, sad backstory, TW: child loss, mostly cute

        Daryl lit the fire in the old fireplace, rubbing his hands together and holding them out to soak up the heat. It was dark and rather chilly with the roaring storm outside. It had blown in fast, and the torrential downpour was too much to drive in. With slow squeaky windshield wipers and dim headlights that desperately needed replacing, there was no other option. Daryl pulled over to the first cabin he saw and rushed you inside, leaving the two of you to spend the night in an old dusty cabin that smelled like mildew and aged wood.

        "Should start warmin' up in a bit." He told you, standing up and looking around. He didn't bother waiting for a response, you wouldn't have anything to say. Nobody had ever heard you talk. I mean, sure, people did when yo were younger, before the turn. You weren't deaf like Connie. You thought it was probably just a trauma response. The day you came home to find your fiancé hunched over your two year old daughter, blood pooling on the ground... You could just never bring yourself to speak after that. When you heard your voice, you heard goofy laughs with your baby, sweet talks in bed with your man, phone calls with family and friends. Nowadays there was never anything worth talking about. Every time you tried to speak you were flooded with sweet memories and clouded by the terrible image of your undead lover eating your baby, your world. It was like this large painful lump in your throat had made a home there and prevented any sound from coming out.

        Nobody actually even knew your name. You never told them. They usually just called you Jane, as in Jane Doe. Daryl didn't mind you at all, though. In fact, he was quite fond of you. You were pretty, you could hold your own, and you were also... pretty. So pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off you some days. He was never sure if you noticed, and you really didn't. That was really only because you tried your best not to look at him. You were helplessly attracted to him, so anything to avoid giving that away, you did.

        "Still got them bars in your bag?" He asked you, referring to the protein bars Carol sent you with. You opened your bag and tossed him one, opening another one for yourself.

        The two of you ate in silence. He tossed you a water bottle from his own bag, and you drank.

        Then, it was just the two of you, left to occupy yourselves. He spent an hour or so sharpening arrows and tweaking bits and pieces on his bow. You mostly just laid on the couch and picked at your nails, or scabs, or stared up at the ceiling, watching the spiders in their webs. 

        His mind was plagued with questions. Every time he was alone with you he found himself wondering the same things. Where were you from? What was your story? Why didn't you speak? What was your name?

        He got frustrated with he lack of answers or anything else to stimulate his mind and distract him. He sighed and pushed himself back and forth in the old dingy rocking chair.

        "Need to find you a notepad or somethin' like Connie has." He spoke.

        You looked over at him.

        "Just sayin', silence is deafening, y'know?"

        You just looked back up at the ceiling.

        "What about.. Okay." He sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. You looked back at him. "What if I asked you... yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head." He sounded hopeful and bored. You almost wanted to laugh at his eagerness, like a little kid trying to get his grandpa to tell him stories from the war.

        You didn't answer, because, of course not, but you just watched him curiously, not giving any indication of refusal.

        "Alright. Do you like fishing?"

        You furrowed your eyebrows. 

        "Right. You don't fish." He nodded. "Stupid question. What about.. Okay. Have you ever talked?"

        You gave a single nod after a moment of deciding if you want to tell him that or not.

        "Do you know why you stopped?"

        The question was like a dagger in your chest. You decided you didn't wanna play anymore. You just sighed and turned your attention back to the ceiling. 

        He didn't press further. He just stood up and started to wander, checking all the cabinets in the kitchen for anything useful. He found one thing, a can of Spam. 

        "You like Spam?" He asked, walking back into the living room. You glanced over at him and shook your head. You weren't hungry. He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He said as he dug into the canned meat.

        "Y'know, I had a friend. Her name was Beth. She died, and uh, I didn't talk much after that. It was hard to. Like my throat got all tight every time I tried." He said. "It took a while, but I got through it."

        You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to relate, hoping you'd open up some. You wished it was that easy, you really did. It was miserable having all these thoughts, needs, desires, and no way to express them.

        You knew you could speak, if you really wanted to. The problem was that you had never wanted to work hard enough to get past the lump.

        "You, uh, you're really no fun at sleepovers. Y'know that?"

        Silence. He waited a while. He wondered if he could make you laugh. He couldn't recall ever seeing you give more than a smile. He remembered the story he told Andrea all those years ago, and how it made her laugh.

        "Y'know, this one time when I was a kid. I got lost in the woods. I'm talkin' days, right. So, I gotta use the bathroom at some point. I wiped with leaves, cause I didn't have toilet paper or nothin', and turned out, it was poison ivy. I made it home eventually. Ass itched somethin' serious. I'm talkin' pullin' my underwear 'til the wedgie was so bad it gave me rug burn. Tried everything. Even took a fork outta the kitchen  and tried that. Nothin' helped."

        You were watching him now, grinning. A fork? Really? You wanted to ask if he threw it away or left it to get washed and used. He admired your smile for some time, before it faded. At least he got that.

        "My brother was in juvie back then. Dad wasn't around either. Did I ever tell ya about the time Merle got crabs?"

        You shook your head,

        "Well, he came home one night from the bar. Passed out. Next day he couldn't stop itchin'. Come to find out, there were little bugs crawlin' around in his pubes."

        You frowned in disgust.

        "Anyways, tried to tell the dumb son of a bitch to just shave 'em off, but he didn't wanna so I had to ride with him to the free clinic to get some kinda dick shampoo. Turns out he slept with the same girl like three more times. Kept goin' back to her 'til the shampoo ran out. Guess he figured it didn't matter if he could keep washin' 'em out."

        You looked mortified.

        "Yeah, guess that wasn't funny." He agreed. "He was a nasty son of a bitch."

        You raised your eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

        "I see you hang around Connie a lot. She ever teach you any sign language?"

        You shook your head.

        "I got a book back home if ya want it."

        You shrugged. Could be nice to communicate again.

        "Looks like ya need new shoes." He commented, nodding to your feet propped up on the arm of the couch. The rubber soles were starting to detach from the shoe itself. You nodded. "Wanna stop somewhere and look?"

        You thought for a moment, nodding and shrugging at the same time, as if to say, 'Why not?'

        He sat back down in the rocking chair and rested his head back. He wasn't tired really. It wasn't even that late. The rain just made it seem darker than it was. He listened to the crackling fire and the windy storm outside, the occasional thunder booming around.

        He looked down at you. You seemed just as restless.

        "Wish I knew more about ya." He admitted.

        Usually he wouldn't be so forward with a pretty girl, but your constant silence made him feel like he was just talking to himself. He didn't have to worry about your reaction, though he often wondered what you thought of him.

        You looked at him again, curiously.

        You glanced around the room for anything you could use to tell him something about you. It could be like a game of charades.

        You noticed a map on the wall and walked over to it, pulling the large frame off the nail and walking over to him. You placed your finger on your home state to show him.

        "That's where you're from?"

        You nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips.

        "I'm from Georgia." He said. You gave an acknowledging nod.

        "Ever been to any other states?"

        You dragged your finger from your home state to  Virginia, showing him you had only been through the states that led you to wind up as one of the Saviors. Of course, you weren't one of Negan's fighters, you were just a maid on the cleanup crew. He had actually seen you a few times during his captivity at The Sanctuary. You almost looked as miserable as him.

        "Mm." He nodded with understanding.

        You set the map on the coffee table and walked around the room, looking for anything else to use as a clue. Your eye caught on a little pink bow, the kind with an elastic band that would go around a baby's head. You picked it up, eyes watering as you ran your fingers over it. You turned back to him and walked back to where he sat, holding it out to show him.

        "Ya like pink?" He asked, not quite understanding. You shook your head, trying to think of a better way to explain. Then you remembered the horizontal scar over your lower abdomen. You had your daughter via C-section.

        You lifted your shirt and pulled the waist of your jeans down slightly to expose the scar. You held the bow up again, then pointed at the scar.

        "Oh." He said lowly. "You had a daughter?"

        You nodded, still teary eyed. You took the bow to your bag, concealing it in one of the zipper pockets. You had run out of the house horrified on that awful day. You had no time to grab a memento for her, so that bow would have to serve as one.

        "I'm sorry." He told you. You just nodded in place of a thanks, wiping the tears away. You continued your search around the little cabin for clues. It was kind of fun, albeit painful. It was like a game.

        You took a little longer this time on your search, until you found a phone book. You took it and flipped open a page and walked back to him. This time he was standing up. 

        You held the book open so that he could see it, and pointed to two individual digits.

        "That's how old you are?"

        You nodded.

        "Is your name in there?"

        You shrugged and set the book down, reasoning that it'd be too much work to find it in all those pages.

        "So, you're (age), you had a daughter, and you're from (state)?"

        You nodded and smiled. This was the most you had communicated with anyone in years. It was nice.

        "Cool." He nodded with a small half smile. "You hungry?"

        You shook your head no.

        "Thirsty?"

        You waved your hand to say kind of.

        "I found some tequila in the kitchen."

        You raised your eyebrows. Now that was temptation if you ever saw it. Tequila was a luxury you hadn't come across in, well, you didn't even know how long. You nodded giddily and he huffed a silent chuckle, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of clear, liquid joy. You rushed over and grabbed it from him, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. You made a dramatic face as you shook your head. God, you didn't remember the burn being that bad.

        "Easy, tiger." He teased as he took the bottle and had some for himself.

        You smiled at him as he handed it back, the two of you taking turns until you felt that alcoholic heat in your ears and cheeks.

        "You like tequila?"

        You shurgged.

        "Just like drinkin'?"

        You nodded.

        "Good to know. If we don't finish this off we can bring it back for ya."

        You nodded and grinned. It was cute how happy you got over a simple drink, but he guessed with so little means of communication, anything was nice to take the edge off. He wondered if you felt lonely, like he often did. His was from a place of feeling misunderstood, though. Maybe it wasn't so different than being mute.

        "Is it hard?" He asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair as you sat on the coffee table just a foot away.

        You tilted your head inquisitively.

        "I mean, not bein' able to talk to nobody." He clarified.

        You nodded truthfully, looking down at the floor as you grabbed the bottle from him. 

        "Do ya remember what your voice sounds like?"

        You thought for a moment. Of course you did, that was what made it so hard. Your voice was linked to memories that you couldn't bare.

        You nodded.

        "Maybe I'll hear it one day."

        You smiled sweetly before you took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding. Maybe he would.

        "Something on the bottle caught your eye, a little sticker stuck to the bottom. You reached over and peeled it off as he tipped it back to take a drink. It was a simple yellow smiley face. You smirked and waited for him to put the bottle down before you reached over and stuck it to his nose.

        "The hell?" He grumbled, peeling it off and looking down at it. You couldn't help the silent giggle, your shoulders rising and falling as you scrunched your nose. The little sticker just contrasted his dark, serious exterior too well.

        He noticed your silent laugh and stuck it back to his nose, smiling a little at your amusement. You reached for the bottle and had some more before you passed it back.

        "Y'think that's funny, huh?"

        You nodded, still grinning. He swished the drink around in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully. He had learned more about you in a couple of hours than anyone probably had in the years you'd been around. Still, it wasn't enough. He was greedy and he wanted more.

        He glanced around the room, the fire growing smaller making it fairly dim. He noticed a little banjo off in the corner near the couch.

        "Ya like music?"

        You nodded.

        "Rick, too. Always playin' the worst CDs he can find. Makes my ears bleed." He complained. "What about like.. drawin' or anything. Got any hobbies?"

        You shrugged. Before, you mostly just liked being a mom and watching your favorite shows. Now, you really only worked to survive, so what hobbies were there really?

        "What about church? You like that kinda thing?"

        You shook your head.

        "Yeah me neither. Never believed in it much."

        You nodded in agreement.

        "My mom did, though. Liked to read the bible. She died. When I was a kid."

        You placed a hand on his knee, letting him know you empathized.

        "Yeah. Dad was a real ass, too. Merle was all I had and he wasn't around all that much."

        You gave a sad, thin smile.

        "What about you? You had both parents?"

        You nodded.

        "Brothers? Sisters?"

        You shook your head. You were an only child.

        "Consider yourself lucky." He joked. You nodded. "Pets? Did ya have any?"

        You nodded.

        "Cat?" 

        You shook your head.

        "Dog?"

        You held up the number two with your fingers.

        "Always wanted a dog."

        You smiled. You loved your dogs.

        "Ya miss 'em? The dogs."

        You nodded.

        He yawned.

        "Ya tired yet or ya wanna keep goin'?"

        You shrugged.

        He passed you the bottle and stood up, ruffling your hair a little. You swatted his hand playfully and took a drink.

        "Gon' make sure the doors are sealed up tight." He announced, walking off to find the back door and reinforce it.

        You stood off the coffee table, the hard surface making your butt sore. You stretched and walked back to the couch. When he came back he asked, "You sleepin' there?"

        You nodded. You would offer it to him, but last time you guys had to share a sleep space he hogged the bed and snored as loud as humanly possible, so this time you were doing him no favors. He laid out some blankets he found, making a nice palette on the floor to lay on. You set the bottle on the coffee table, feeling pretty tipsy by now, and relaxed on the couch the way you had before. He laid down on his back, propping his bag under his head for comfort.

        It was silent for a while, just the two of you enjoying the sounds of rain and the flames that were slowly dying down.

        "Thanks." He spoke up. You peeked down at him from the couch. He was mostly obscured by the coffee table but you could see half of his face.  "For tellin' me all that."

        You just smiled to yourself as you turned on your side, facing away from him and curling up into the ball you usually slept in. A few minutes went by. Just  as his eyes got heavy, he heard it.

        "(Y/N)." You said. "That's my name."

[kyojurismo]

tags : fem!reader, spider-man au, reader gets kidnapped by a criminal, mention of injuries and blood, first kiss, bkg fell first & i got a little carried away alright bear w me.

notes : i just can’t help it, i had to write something about him as spider-man and here we are. across the spider-verse motivated me even more i guess . . . anyway, enjoy !! <3

special tag : @doumadono ♡

part two

spider-man!bakugo who happens to be your classmate, you find yourself study with him since he’s very smart and doesn’t even has to try. the annoying part? he’s popular and girls are all over him, so you’re often disturbed during your studying sessions.

spider-man!bakugo who starts developing feelings for you, finds himself staring at you as you focus on your notes and books, follows your figure in the corridors making sure you’re okay.

spider-man!bakugo who often finds himself checking on you while doing his usual patrols. you never notice him of course, he makes sure of it.

spider-man!bakugo who one day happens to hear you talking about him— well, about spider-man. he’s curious to hear your opinion about him.

“well, i’m glad someone is out there helping capturing criminals, but . . .” your friend shrugs, searching another article about spider-man. “look. he almost let this poor man fall from a balcony while trying to stop this criminal,” she points out.

you chuckle at her words, surprising her. “he can’t control civilians’ reactions, y’know. i think he’s doing a good work and he makes me feel more safe when i walk alone at night,” you confess, smiling. “we shouldn’t be too judgemental, i’m sure he’s doing his best.”

after hearing your words bakugo covers his mouth with his palm in attempt to hide his growing smile.

spider-man!bakugo who discovers some criminal kidnapped you and is using you against the police. he’s quick to arrive to the scene and enter inside the building, careful to not being noticed by the criminal pointing a gun to your head.

“please, lemme go!” you cry as you grip the criminal’s arm desperately, tears rushing down your warm cheeks. you can feel he is nervous, and that’s not good at all. he would probably shoot you if the police tries to come inside.

“they saw my face! i’m fucked! shit, i’m so fucked!” he screamed, shaking you and pushing the gun against your temple more harshly.

bakugo crawls on the ceiling, watching closely. he then quickly uses his web to disarm the man, immobilising him to the ground and then reach your shaking figure. “are you hurt?” he asks you, appearing in front of you.

“s-spider-man?” you raise your hands to touch his chest and shoulders to make sure he’s real and you’re not already dead or something. “yeah, it’s me. did he hurt you?” he sounds anxious, even though you seemed alright.

“uh i… yeah, i’m okay,” you check your figure and you don’t see any trace of blood or anything, then you raise your eyes to look at his masked face. “good. i gotta go now,” he hears the police starting to enter inside and he’s quick to rush through the back to exit the building.

“w-wait!” you turn and watch him, once his head turn to look at you you speak again. “thank you for saving me,” you smile at him. bakugo nods and then runs away, without being noticed by the police.

you couldn’t see it because of the mask, but katsuki smiled back at you.

spider-man!bakugo who feels good at the thought of being out there to protect you, to save you if needed. he has another reason to fight for his city.

spider-man!bakugo who bumped into you while running away from a scene after he succeeded in capturing the criminal. “careful, princess!” he shouts before running past you, before using his web to swing away. you feel your heart skipping a beat at the petname.

spider-man!bakugo who’s constantly debating about telling you his true identity, hoping that it would provide him at least a chance to be with you but also remember that it would put you in danger.

spider-man!bakugo who one night jumped into your window, falling on the floor and hitting your desk. you scream as you jump to your feet, scanning the figure lying on your floor… bleeding.

“oh my god… can you… hey!” you kneel beside him, checking the side of his stomach bleeding. you were about to remove his mask, as a way to help him breathing better but he’s quick to grab your wrist, almost scaring you. “don’t.”

you gulp and simply get up, reaching the bathroom and looking for a first aid kit. then you rush back into your room to medicate him. “what happened?” you ask as you start working on the injury. “i got shot, but the bullet passed through so it’s fine,” his voice is strained and visibly in pain but he doesn’t flinch as you medicate him. “it’s fine?! it seems like you’re bleeding to death!”

bakugo’s eyes search for your face and notices you’re actually worried about him. once you’re done you help him to your bed, helping him lying comfortably enough. you were lucky your parents weren’t home that night.

“i’m sorry,” he then speaks as you go back to your desk. “ah? sorry for what?” you turn your head for a moment, seeing spider-man lying in your bed was truly a sight. “coming to you, entering out of nowhere.”

you shake your head and then try to focus on the rest of your homework. you can feel him stare at your figure and it distracts you a bit, so you sigh and close your books a bit too loudly as you cringe. you get up and go check on him again, when you try to remove his mask once more he flinches away, stopping you.

“i need to check if you have a fever,” you explain, staring down at him. “i’m totally fine,” he shrugs and tries to sound convincing enough. “sorry, but i don’t really trust the word of a masked vigilante with a very bad injury lying in my bed.”

“i can lie on the floor if you prefer,” he tries to joke before grabbing your wrists as you try again. “okay, listen… you take it off while i keep my eyes closed and then i touch your forehead, what about it?” you try, just wanting to make sure he doesn’t have any infection from the injury. he seems to be thinking about before giving up. “hm.”

you close your eyes and wait for him to take the mask off, then you feel him guiding your hand to his forehead. you sigh in relief as you confirm that he’s alright. you retrieve your hand and wait for a couple of moments. “can i open my eyes now?” you ask him, a bit uncomfortable now that you couldn’t see what he was up to. “not yet.”

his voice is much closer than before and you then feel his breath fanning over you cheek. you shiver as his hand reached for your face and cupped your cheek. your heart starts beating so fast it almost jumps out of your chest before he leans closer and kisses your lips, the kiss lasts for a few seconds before he pulls away and lies back down, his face now fully covered.

you open your eyes and glance at him before turning around, trying to hide the embarrassment and the excitement. bakugo smirks from under the mask before closing his eyes, satisfied with his actions.

spider-man!bakugo who notices you’re trying to find out the real identity of spider-man, trying to see if it’s someone from your school. he’s sure you will never find out, he acts completely different when he’s spider-man. his secret is safe . . . right?

[judasgot-it]

Hey! Can I request Dazai, fyodor, and tecchou when they’re s/o is an anxious person? (I don’t know if it’s anxiety, but when a person worries too much, yk. I think I have anxiety but in TikTok a lot of people said a lot of words so I’m confuse) And also how would they do when they’re s/o is having an anxiety attack?

Dw I totally feel you. I've been on both sides here so dw bout it, although won't lie. I didn't write for prompt looking back actually only dazai probably but sorry(o´Д`o)

Scenario: Having anxiety/an anxiety attack around them (Dazai, Fyodor and Tecchou)

Dazai

Everything was loud.

Loud in the way that you couldn't pay attention to any one single noise at once - it all blurred together, like a horrible symphony.

You knew the waiter was speaking to you but you didn't know what to say, so you dumbly nodded when Dazai gave your order for you.

You trusted him enough to know what you liked, but right now you just couldn't listen to what anyone was saying. You heard the forks scraping on plates and there were people speaking loudly a couple tables over, and it was scaring you that the doors were wide open.

There was no reason for it, but the busy streets were louder than the restaurant itself. Passing cars would sound like gunshots and in your mind it was reality, making you hunch over everytime one would ring out especially loud.

You needed space. Silence. Saftey.

So you quickly excused yourself, trying to make as much room for yourself as possible when you saw the waiters weaving around you with the big plates balancing on their arms.

The glasses precariously bounced against each other, in your mind threatening to spill over any minute. It terrified you. What if they broke and it was your fault?

You avoided him, rushing to get away from the sound.

There was safety in the bathroom. The bathroom stalls were quiet, albeit awkward. But right now, no one was there.

Rushing in, you quickly locked yourself into one of the stalls. You crouched on the toilet, completely invisible to anyone walking into the room.

It was safe, in your mind.

The room was also quiet.

No talking, no loud noises. No threatening sounds of glasses shattering into a million pieces.

There was no reason for that to scare you, but it did.

Right now? You could hide your face in between your knees and breathe a little.

Trying your best, you took in a couple of deep breaths. You should have counted them, but you found it made you feel miserable every time you lost count. So you just kept breathing, trying to fill up your lungs with as much space as they would allow you to.

You had gotten a little cold from the strong air-conditioning in the building, and the cold tile of the toilet seat didn't help. The bathroom also wasn't as quiet as you originally thought it was, as your brain finally allowed you to hear the ambience of the plumbing ringing throughout the air.

It was actually rather loud.

But somehow it was more soothing than awkward. Mostly due to being alone.

Which was well and short-lived.

The steps were rather quiet, especially compared to the creaking of the door, although with a baited breath, you waited for them to leave the room so you could enjoy your ambiance.

Unfortunately for you, they instead decided to settle in the stall right next to you. There was a clamor as you heard the man shake the stall doors - and to your horror, a face peaked at you from above the doors.

Had your system not been shocked from the overwhelming sounds of the dinner room, you would have screamed. Instead, you were frozen as you watched Dazai stare at you with his bottle glass eyes.

"So, you hid in here?"

He nodded casually, looking around as if there was something interesting to look at. From his angle, there was an old spider web and a stained ceiling tile - below was just the small bathroom stall that you stayed hidden in.

"Nice, nice. It's pretty quiet in here."

You nodded, hoping he would see it.

"Our food is ready. Do you wanna eat it in here?"

"In the bathroom?"

"Why not? It'll be our own private booth, really. You picked a good spot."

"Really?"

"Yea. I mean, it's kinda like russian roulette don't you think?"

Staring at him, you hoped the silence spoke louder than words.

"To-go box?"

His eyes were too happy with the bad joke on his tongue. You nodded along anyway, since you were indeed rather happy to get out of the bathroom.

"There's a good-" He muffled a laugh under his fist, pretending to clear his throat.

"There's a good spot by- Oh god."

Dazai slapped the top of the cubicle, laughing as if you told the funniest joke. It made you smile a little.

You might have also laughed when you watched him slip from the cubicle wall, landing hard on his ass.

Fyodor

You and Fyodor were seated during the intermission, waiting for the second act of the orchestra. Fyodor was in a full suit piece, custom made by someone whom you forgot the name of - Shibugawa? Shibuzawa?

You didn't remember, but looking at him and the other members in attendance, it made you feel a little lackluster in comparison. You hadn't put that much effort into your look than you felt that you should have, compared to some of the others around you, and now you were feeling the consequences.

It was hard to be discrete about what you were feeling, especially as it was only you and Fyodor next to each other - strangely, your entire section was empty.

So as you began to slowly melt into your seat, you really hoped Fyodor would be too busy focusing on the musicians as they brought out their instruments for the next piece.

"Are you ok?"

You turned to him, giving him your best smile. Hopefully, you were as convincing as he was when he was faking everything.

"Just peachy. Just um..."

Fyodor cocked his head to the side, looking at you with a smile that seemed so earnest you wanted to melt into your seat and rot. You would die if you looked into a mirror right now.

"Um, sorry. It's really stupid."

"My love, nothing about you is stupid. Some exceptions, but you are quite free to ask me of anything."

You hated him right now. You wanted to fight him with whatever he meant by 'sole exceptions', but your anxiety and insecurity were winning the current moment.

"Do I look good? I feel like I didn't dress up enough."

Fyodor laughed - quite loudly, for a small man like him.

"You've asked that 10 times tonight! Does it bother you so much?"

The seat underneath you did nothing to cover what you were feeling. Neither did your hands, which you used to try and shield your face.

"Yes. I just feel very...inadequate."

"Inadequate?"

"Not good enough. Everyone here is so beautiful - especially you! I feel that I just can't compare."

Fyodor smiled - a gentle smile, one that he had reserved for talking to you. They always reassured you, especially when he seemed to say the most impossible things - there was something in the way he smiled like that, that you could trust whatever he said. If he told you that the Earth was flat, you would certainly believe him.

You were convinced he was a cult leader when he could manipulate your heart so easily.

"Darling, you can't compare to anyone because you are on another level. You are my little sun, you know that."

He had taken your hands, which were twisting around one another and trying to smooth out invisible lines of stress in your palms. Gently, he brought them to his lips, kissing them as if they were made of glass.

You hitched a breath, as the anxiety you felt slowly dissipated as Fyodor kept contact with you - his slender, cold hands grounding you to reality.

Tecchou

You were trying your best to not freak out.

Tecchou hadn't responded to any of your messages in the last 14 hours.

This happened before - on many of his missions, he would break his phone, leading to him having to get new government-issued ones all the time. It wasn't his fault, considering what his job entailed - but there was always the chance that he failed.

Failure, which almost guaranteed death.

Knowing this terrified you.

You didn't know how long you had sat on your couch, trying to drown out your growing anxiety with some sort of dramatic romance that you knew Tecchou would enjoy. Some sort of feminist period drama that would always have him rooting for the main female characters - you would usually find them annoying, but it almost calmed you down whenever you thought about what Tecchou would say about certain scenes.

It also had you worrying more, almost to tears as you thought about what could possibly have him stay back so late. He would usually be back hours ago, but you had forced yourself to stay up until you knew for sure that he was ok.

So when Tecchou had come home, searching for you in the apartment, you didn't even acknowledge it.

Not even when he hovered right above you, his honey eyes and warm face staring right at your wet face, half buried into a pillow stolen from your shared bed.

You were too busy wrapped up in your fears, exhaustion written all over your features.

"Y/n."

You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes.

He blinked, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

It took you a second, the tiredness and anxiety still clouding your mind. You turned around, grabbing his shirt in order to check if it was a dream or not. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time for you.

"When did you get back?"

"Just now."

You roughly grabbed him by his uniform, pulling him down to your rest into your arms. He let it happen, allowing you to drag him into your lap like an oversized doll.

You wouldn't even think he's a hunting dog from the way he melted into your skin, soaking up every touch you gave him.

"Have you been up all night?"

His face was hidden in your collarbone, while his hands reached up to stroke your back reassuringly.

You simply nodded, wiping the tears that built up on the back of your hand. You didn't want to cry again, especially since it was truly over nothing - you knew he was okay now, just having a late day at work.

But you found yourself pulling him closer to you, grabbing at his shirt and trying to find comfort knowing that he was breathing and alive - that he wasn't dead, like your mind had been screaming at you for the entire day.

"I'm glad you're ok."

Your voice cracked horribly, so instead of speaking, you tried to bury your voice into his hair, entangling your hands into the large mop that lied there.

"You didn't have to worry about me."

He pulled himself up a little, leaving small, sloppy kisses along your jawline.

"I'm always going to comeback to you. I won't die that easily."

He pulled your face towards his, kissing your lips as if he were trying to melt into your skin.

"I'll crawl out of my grave just to get back to you."

Hey so if this is a little cringe?? No it's not....lol.....also yes I put a hozier quote for Tecchou cause he's a man written by a woman

[thinking1bee]

You Haven't Failed Part 4

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

You woke up to bright, warm sunlight filtering through the open blinds of the window. The space beside you was empty. You were beginning to stir, and the feeling of the cool sheets where Wanda’s body was supposed to be was what woke you up. She was gone, but on her pillow was a note. In her elegant cursive, you read what she wrote:

Good morning gorgeous!

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to wake up next to you, but I got pulled away on assignment. Make sure to eat food and drink water. Nick mentioned that he wanted to see you for something so make sure you stop by his office. I made breakfast and placed it in the microwave for you to heat up. I love you so much.

-W <3

You smiled dreamily as you pivoted onto your back, and stared at the ceiling. Something about Wanda leaving you a note was so…romantic. You laughed softly as you thought about last night, and normally, something like that would have left you sore in the morning after, but you felt good. Great even. You weren’t even exhausted despite being up all night, and you stretched your entire body before throwing the blankets off you and starting your day. It was an hour by the time you made it to Nick’s office. You ate and showered before dawning your supersuit. True to what you told Wanda during dinner, Nick was partnering you up with Peter to sweep a 10-mile radius around Oscorp Industries. You and Peter high-fived in excitement. It’d been a while since you worked with the friendly, neighborhood Spider-man and it was going to be so nice to spend time with him. Though Peter was younger than you, he had his powers longer than you did, and he was the one to teach you everything that he knew.

You and Peter divided the work. You would take the northern half of the radius while Peter took the southern half. You were swinging in between buildings, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, while Peter talked to you via the comm in your ear.

“I’m just saying, Y/n. You should let Mr. Stark build you a suit. With access to nanotechnology and an AI, I’m sure he could make you something that you would like. It is certainly easier than wearing a suit under your clothing or having to change into one. Trust me, I tried that, and it was much more difficult than I thought it would be.”

You laughed, the visual of him struggling to get his suit on in some cramped, little space, entertaining you more than it should. Peter tried for years to get you to go to Tony. Even Tony himself approached you with various blueprints and drawings, saying that he was ready to do this the moment you were. You weren’t sure just yet. Having a physical suit was nostalgic to you, but maybe it was time for an upgrade. You were sure that Wanda was sick of smelling your suit every time you came home from work, though she did take it in stride.

“Maybe I will visit him,” you told Peter, and you could hear the excitement in his voice.

“Really?!”

“Yeah, I mean. I like your integrated suit.”

The blue, red, and gold colors were a nice touch along with all the gizmos and gadgets that were equipped to it. Admittedly though, it wasn’t your favorite. Your favorite suit that you saw Peter wear was the Iron Spider. If you were going to wear a new suit, you wanted it to look like that one. The sleek metallic look, and the way it looked like Tony’s Iron-Man suit really had you impressed.

“You won’t regret it. I promise! Besides my suit gives me an advantage that you don’t have.”

“What’s that?”

“FRIDAY gives me access to police scanners. There’s a fight between the police and some escaped convicts at the corner of 12th. I can meet you there?”

Damn. That was a nice perk. The moment he pointed it out, your spider senses went off just as you heard guns firing. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

You headed to the confrontation, and landed next to an officer that was taking cover behind his car.

“Hey one of the Spideys are here!” someone pointed out and you gave them a shy wave. You turned to the officer as you ducked with him.

“There are six of them. At least three have guns, while others have short, ranged weapons. Think you can take them?”

“In my sleep,” you said with a smile. “Just make sure you help the civilians.”

“You got it.”

He shuffled away from you, and you focused on the comm in your ear. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Peter answered. “I’ll be there in 10. Make sure you leave me some.”

“No promises if you take your sweet time getting here.”

Peter laughed before he turned his comm off. You took several deep breaths to prepare yourself. Your spider senses were going crazy, and you jumped to your feet and dodged right as someone tried to shoot you. You raised your arm and fired a web from your hand, the white fluid attaching itself to the gun right as you yanked it out of the hands of your target. You spun it around and launched it back at the person you snatched it from, and you heard the solid impact of metal against skin as it collided into his ribs. He choked on his next breath of air, his face turning a deep red color, before he collapsed onto his back.

“Aw shit, the Spider is here!”

You smiled beneath your mask and got to work. The two prisoners with guns aimed at you simultaneously and fired. You dodged the bullets easily, jumping and flipping out of the way. You shot two lines of web at them, each line attaching to their feet. You watched as they both looked at you, and then at each other before you grabbed the lines and threw them up into the air. They screamed in terror, and you shot more webs at them while they were airborne. The fluid wrapped around their bodies before attaching them to the nearest wall of a building. That was three down and no more guns. Three more to go. The crowd that was gathering around you cheered, and you knew that if Peter didn’t get here within the next minute, he was going to miss on all the fun. One prisoner with a crowbar tried to rush you, but you laughed. His movements were slow and clumsy as he swung the bar and missed. You easily punched him, your fist connecting solidly with his cheek, before he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Two more. One of the guys was immediately in front of you, and thinking nothing of it, you rushed him. In his hands was a wooden baseball bat, and before he could get close enough to swing it, you launched more webs at him. One of the webs crashed into the bat, and the solid wood was knocked into his forehead before the rest of the webs wrapped around his body. You watched as he went cross eyed before his knees buckled, his body folding like a lawn chair.

There was one more prisoner to go, and before you could even consider thinking about where he went, your spider senses fired off in your head. You don’t know why you did what you did. Any other time you would have flipped out of the way or webbed yourself to safety. You didn’t do either of those. Instead, you turned on your feet and faced the threat, right as that threat impaled you with a machete. The blade went clean through you, in and out. You gasped as blazing, fiery agony erupted to life in your stomach. Blood was quick to pour from the wounds, red staining your suit as you clutched onto the person that stabbed you.

“One spider down. One to go,” he spat as he twisted the blade. You screamed, the cheers from the crowd going silent.

You heard commotion, the attention of the police now on you as they all unholstered their weapons and pointed it at the convict.

“Go ahead!” he barked. “Shoot! Let’s see if you can hit me and not your precious, little hero.”

You’ve gotten your ass handed to you a couple of times, but you had never been stabbed before. It was more agonizing than people made it out to be. Whatever was said about it, did not do it justice. Your vision swam with tears, the pain so intense and nauseating that you thought you were going to pass out. Warm wetness continued to spread, more blood dripping and staining your suit. Stuttering breaths left you. You could hear Peter’s voice in your ear, but it was like he was speaking underwater. You heard his voice, but you didn’t hear his words.

The pain was growing distant, and you thought that it meant that you were going to die, when you felt something happening. Between your body and his, you heard something wet moving. At first, you thought that you were hallucinating, but you saw the prisoner’s face contort in fear as he looked down. He snatched his hand away from the machete’s handle and took a step back.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed.

You looked down and saw black, tiny tendrils of oozing mass wrapping around the blade. It traveled, thick and viscous, to the handle, the tendrils wrapping around and around as they moved. From behind, you felt the blade snap, the sharp clang of metal against the asphalt ringing out as the pain in your back disappeared, but you watched in shock as the tendrils flexed and began to push the other half of the broken machete out of your body. That, too, clanged heavily to the ground, the handle and the small bit of remaining broken metal, rolled to a stop to rest heavily in the street. Then, slowly, the tendrils retreated back into your body and out of sight. Your flesh wove itself back together, the pain completely gone. You stood there in a stupor before your hand smoothed down your stomach. Not even a scar. The only evidence of you being stabbed was the large, inches long gash through your suit, and the drying blood that surrounded it. That was all. Beyond that, you felt great, energized.

And pissed.

He just tried to kill you. While your immediate thought had been the pain, your thoughts now shifted to Wanda and how you wouldn’t have saw her again if you died. Though it’d been a few years since she was dusted, to you, it still felt like you just got her back. Now, someone just tried to take you away from her. A fury, the likes of which you hadn’t felt in a really long time, consumed you, and you saw red. You were going to end him where he stood, and you were going to ensure that he couldn’t do to anyone else what he did to you.

Though he couldn’t see your face, the prisoner saw the slow turn of your head as you faced him. He whimpered and started to back away, his hands raised in surrender.

“L-Look, I d-didn’t mean-”

You didn’t let him finish that sentence. You appeared before him in the blink of an eye, there and gone before he could comprehend, and you wrapped your hand around his throat. You hoisted him easily into the air with a grunt and watched emotionlessly as he choked. He tried to pry your hand loose from his neck, but he was too weak. Too feeble. Too breakable.

“D-don’t” he choked out, but you frowned.

“Why?”

You let that one question hang between you and him. His eyes widened, and you said nothing more before you slammed him into the ground. You crouched over his body, grabbed him by the collar of his prison shirt, and punched him again and again. With every connection of your knuckles against his face, a deep satisfaction filled you to the brim. He deserved this. He deserved this for daring to snatch your future with Wanda away like Thanos had. Punching him over and over, feeling his nose break and his jaw shatter beneath your strength filled you with happiness. You smiled as his head snapped back again and again. He went silent minutes ago. The crowd was eerily hushed behind you, and you watched with a sense of accomplishment as his blood splattered all over the ground.

“Stop! Stop!”

A hand grabbed your next punch before it could connect, and you almost retaliated against the person that dared to stop you, a growl leaving your lips, when you came face to face with Peter. You couldn’t see his face beneath his mask, but you could hear the horror in his voice.

“What are you doing?? You’re going to kill him!"

That had been your intentions, but for some reason, hearing it out loud was like an ice, cold bucket of water was dumped on you. The harsh reality of what you almost did dawned on you. You stared at the man, his face almost disfigured beyond recognition, and you could barely hear the beating of his heart. It was sluggish behind his ribs, and wheezy, gurgling breaths left his split lips as he lay unconscious in the street. When you looked down, you saw that his blood coated your hand. It drenched through the material of your suit. You could practically feel the cooling wetness of it on your skin. Your chest heaved as breaths sawed in and out of you, and you stumbled to your feet as you looked around. Everyone was staring at you with a mixture of shock, fear, and alarm. Even the police regarded you with guarded terror.

“Look, I-” you began as you took a step towards one of them, but he quickly raised his gun to you, the grip he had on it trembling with fright.

You stopped in your tracks and clenched your jaw. Then, you turned to look at Peter, who pointed his chin down the street.

“Go,” he whispered.

You listened immediately, and shot a web, grabbing it before launching yourself into the air.

Part 5

[luvie-42]

Miguel grabs your...

(context: you guys fought a anomaly and there was another unexpected one) I got bored tbh

-You had a large scratch on your arm and your suit was damaged and you layed down on a boulder of collapsed building, you had been unconscious and the anomaly was about to kill you. Miguel got there just in time and got the anomaly and you gained it back.

-"Are you okay, Y/N?!" Miguel yells and shakes you, your eyes open and you could see Miguel sigh of relief. "I'm good.. Where's the anomaly?" You put your hand on his shoulder and he picked you up by your hand and let you use him as a crutch. "I can walk don't worry. " he put you down still holding your hand, as he started to walk to the exit where police were surrounded by.

-Then the leftover ceiling of the building broke and fell by the exit and the second anomaly jumped down, it was a doc occ anomaly and Miguel got into a fight stance and put his arm in front of you for protection. Your eyes widen and you blush when you feel and look down at the grip he has on your breast, "Hey are you okay?, you can't control your breath." He turns around to look at you and looked down where his hand was, his hand covered most of your boob causing him to blush and just stare not knowing what to do. He had this urge to squeeze until you made a sweet noise, he "accidentally" squeezed and it made you gasp. "Ah! Miguel!" You couldnt be live him until you looked to your left and had a sinister smirk on your face. He kept staring at your flesh until he snapped out of his trance and let his hand off. "Shock I'm sorry!"

-Your smirk had caught his eyes and he blushed more under his suit. "Wait, did you? Li-like?-" "No" You cut him off and the anomalys claw shoved him across the wrecked building. "WHY DIDN'T YOU ALERT ME, YOU KNOW I DON'T HAVE SPIDER SENSES!!!" He tells from the wall "because you deserved it" You say sticking your tongue out at him. "NEXT TIME TELL ME!!" "On your left!" You say blandly but teasingly.

-Once you guys got the anomaly back and went back to HQ, he patched you up and you could have sworn you saw blush on his face.

NIGHT POST LITTLE ONES!!😚😚

[envihellbender]

Avatars/John bad times nc jamboree (Lonely!Martin included or not up to you)

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathon Sims, Elias Bouchard, Mike Crew, Simon Fairchild, Michael The Distortion, Annabelle Cane, Peter Lukas, Jude Perry, Nikola Orsinov, Hezekiah Wakely, Maxwell Rayner, Daisy Tanner, Jane Prentiss, Jared Hopworth, Oliver Banks, Martin Blackwood

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+

Content: trans man John Sims (yes trans men on T get prostate tissue look it up), heavy noncon, I’m serious - dead dove do not eat, breeding, oral, torture, genital torture, somnophilia (maybe?), restraints, riding crop, spiders, teratophilia, candle wax, rimming, sex from an invisible guy, breast torture, wound fucking, rats, buried alive, gore, sensory deprivation, misgendering, force feminisation of a trans man, brief CSA implication (nothing explicit or mention), worms, being fucked by worms, bone fucking, body horror, cervix penetration

Elias Bouchard / The Eye

“Well, well, John,” Elias taunted as he ran one finger down John’s terrified face. The Archivist tried to squirm away but the bonds around his wrists kept him tied to the bed and unable to do much other than struggle and make the bed creak. The last thing he knew they had been in Elias’s office, now it seemed he was in a similarly furnished bedroom, all polished oak and green silks.

“This- this isn’t real. It’s a dream you forced into my head it’s not real,” John said to himself desperately. “It’s not-”

“I hope telling yourself that does make the process easier for you, I really do John,” Elias hummed as he undressed. He approached John, placing himself between his legs. In return John squirmed and kicked, desperate to get free. Elias crushed John’s thin, scrawny body beneath his rendering him helpless. He positioned John’s legs onto his shoulders, stretching them out unnaturally far, and pressed his whole body weight down onto him until his ankles were next to his ears. John could feel Elias’s hard cock at his hole, mocking him, telling him at any moment he was about to be impaled as John knew his cunt wasn’t aroused or wet enough. He knew Elias had no intention of using any form of lubrication.

“This position,” Elias hissed. “Is colloquially known as ‘mating press’ if you’re a good boy, I’ll make sure not to use this to my advantage. Unless you’d like to get fat from my seed, John?” The Archivist shook his head, rather frantically to Elias’s amusement. “A shame, truly. Now, let’s get on with things. You have quite a few to see to tonight.” John swallowed and stared at the ceiling, hoping Elias was bluffing.

Mike Crew / The Vast

The next one was Mike Crew, who snorted with laughter as he saw John with his wrists tied up, and his body sore and shaking. He was left in just his white work shirt, it was stained with his own blood but he was undressed otherwise - cum dripping down his thighs. Mike didn’t say anything about the display, just walked around the bed, poking and pulling at John whenever he thought it necessary. Eventually, he climbed on top of John, and sat cross-legged on his chest.

“Hey. Archivist,” Mike began. He prodded John’s cheek curiously. “Apparently I get to do whatever I want with you now. So long as you stay in this room. And stay alive. Which limits us a bit.”

“Mike,” John grunted. He clenched his teeth, clearly not willing to chat before the event.

“Personally,” Mike continued with a smirk, clearly enjoying seeing John beneath him. “I wanted to rape you on top of your apartment building. Have you bent over the railings, where the only thing stopping you from hitting the road below in a bloody splat is me.”

“Sorry me being left at your mercy isn’t quite on your terms.” John’s sarcastic tone was met with a pale thin, wrist around his throat.

“That’s why I’m going to save that for next time. For now, I’m just going to use that snarky, shitty little mouth of yours. See how those nice blowjob lips look around my cock.” Mike shuffled a little too quickly, pulling down his belt and jeans and then the torment began.

Simon Fairchild / The Vast

After Mike had used him, John was surprised to discover his bonds disappeared. He sat up on the single bed that creaked with every movement to see Simon Fairchild on the other side of the room. There he sat, with a smug, infuriating smile on his lips, and before either of them could say anything. The room changed. The walls no longer existed and it looked as if they had ridden miles into the air, the clouds beneath them and planes rushing past as the air was so thin John felt his chest grow tight as his lungs protested. Whilst his focus was on that, the vast empty surroundings and the cold air biting him, he hadn’t even noticed that Simon Fairchild sat delicately in the bed until his hand was on his thigh.

“You are rather handsome you know, Archivist, almost like a scarred battle veteran from the days of old… not literally of course, you’re much smaller, skinnier, and frailer. But you have the eyes and skin for it,” Simon hummed, his pale eyes narrowed like a hawk about to lunge for a hare.

“Can we just get this over with?” John mumbled, his body aching and tired. Gusts of wind kept rushing through the room and even though he knew he was in no danger he still gripped to the side of the bed.

“Oh come now, Archivist, you know me better than that.” Simon grabbed John by the throat, resulting in the room disappearing and him hanging in the air. He felt his stomach lurch, twisting as his limbs became restrained through air pressure alone and the ice cold wind was like daggers in his skin. His mind stopped. He couldn’t think or process anything, it was as if he had vertigo to such an extreme level. It felt like his brain had frostbite. The only thing he was aware of was when Simon’s breath was in his ear and he whispered: “fancy joining the, what do you call it, ah, yes! The mile high club?”

Michael / The Distortion

John was still shaking when Michael appeared, through a door that materialised as if from nowhere. He was almost relieved, at least this time the room would remain on the ground. Michael waltzed in, his head unnaturally tilted and his grin terrifyingly wide. He wandered over, phasing in and out of reality with each step, his body becoming a colourful, static, glitch every time his foot hit the ground. John wasn’t in restraints any more, but him being shaky, weak, and covered in blood, as well as two portions of semen in his cunt and one in his gut, meant he wasn’t keen to move anywhere very fast.

“Whatever you plan on doing can you do it quick,” John groaned, curling up on himself. Martin appeared at the end of his bed, he didn’t seem to have any instruments or equipment with him but before John knew it he was on his back with his legs held up. He had a speculum forced into his cunt. He felt his genitalia be stretched so far it made his eyes water and him suck in on his teeth.

“that IS BETter, aRCHIvist,” Michael giggled. “I preFER it WHEN you ARE quiET.” He kept chuckling as John’s cheeks became wet with tears. He shoved his fingers inside of John, every single one of them, and filled him with his own blood. If John had asked Michael couldn’t explain how. All he knew is that John’s Cunt was filling up with blood until his gut began to swell. “You KNOW, sEX has NevER interestED ME much. BUT torTure… that IS fun.”

Annabelle Cane / The Web

Annabelle Crane was almost a welcome relief, John sighed and let his body relax into the bed. At least dream logic meant that his injuries were healed and his body was cleaned from Michael. However, it wasn’t long that John felt his a black tape, from the very tapes he recorded statements with suddenly appear and wrap around his wrists and ankles. They pulled his limbs away from him, tightly meaning any movement would dislocate a knee or shoulder. John took deep breaths and try not to panic. Annabelle Cane appeared with a mischievous smile, and a riding crop. She lightly tapped Jonathon’s gut, which was covered in a filthy, blood stained, white shirt.

“My my, they’ve certainly left a mess for me, haven’t they?” She grinned.

“Ugh. Hello Annabelle,” Jonathon groaned. He gasped and winced as the riding crop hit his gut.

“You will speak when spoken to,” she said simply. She then transformed before his eyes, long black haired legs grew from her back, gigantic spider’s limbs covered in black hairs. She used them to crawl on top of John, settling between his legs with the touch making him whine and cry out.

“Annabelle. Please. Not- not like this,” he begged. Annabelle chuckled, and let one hairy appendage stroke his cunt before her human arm smacked his genitalia with a riding crop.

“What did I just say, Archivist?” She said sternly. She giggled as Jonathon whimpered as she began to roughly fuck his cunt with one long, spindly black limb. She pushed until she reached his cervix, and then kept going.

Peter Lukas / The Lonely

The room was silent, and perhaps that should have relaxed John - being alone and without any avatar to beat and rape him… But this part of the dream was always different. It was always uncertain. He knew Peter Lukas was next, he was waiting somewhere. Suddenly, a thick fog filled the room, slowly until John couldn’t even see his own restrained body. He knew better than to call out, Lukas enjoyed that, and John not admitting his fear would infuriate him. Suddenly, John felt his restrained legs be released, he struggled, he couldn’t see anyone. He could only feel two calloused hands on his thighs shoving them backwards and causing John to fold painfully.

“Do hold still, John,” a faux-cheerful voice said. One that sounded strangely caring despite having not one iota of care and compassion in it. Peter Lukas. Before John could respond he felt a thick, wet tongue inside of his arsehole. He gasped and whined, hating how it felt almost… good. He felt tears fall down his face as he felt his swollen from testosterone clitoris grow painfully hard. He felt like his insides were being eaten my Peter Lukas. Owned. As if he had slit open his gut and began fucking his guts. John unwillingly orgasmed, his body betraying him, but that made everything far more sensitive. He tried to kick Peter Lukas from his body as he the sensation grew painful. He sighed in relief as Peter pulled away, his bleary vision making it even harder to see through the fog. Somehow there were hands on him, a body crushing him, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Well, that should be enough, I think,” Peter said finally, without a word he forced his cock into John’s arsehole. No lubrication beyond his own spit, and no warning. John cried out, his throat raw, and hated himself for it.

Jude Perry / The Desolation

“Hey there, Archivist,” Jude Perry said with a sinister smirk as she looked down at John’s ruined body, he was covered in cum, his own blood, and was starting to bruise. His body shaking in pain, exhaustion, and cold.

“Jude,” he said hoarsely. He tightened his lips and looked away, Jude never cleaned him up in this nightmare. She wanted him broken.

“The very same. Personally I find this whole thing a bit gross, and you’re not really my type you know? But… a chance to torture the Archivist? Sign me up.”

“Of course. Well. Get it over with,” John grunted, feeling numb to any possible torture that could follow.

Jude straddled John’s torso and began groping his breasts. He flinched and squirmed uncomfortably, and she pulled and twisted his nipples, at first John thought it wasn’t too bad until Jude turned up the heat… Literally. He felt the burning sensation against his nipples first, then he smelt the burning flesh of his breast tissue.

“God, you scream, far too much,” Jude groaned, rolling her eyes. She released John’s chest and melted candle wax dropped from her fingers leaving splotches on his skin - bright orange and searing. Until she got to his mouth, then she let it drip onto his lips, giggling as he screamed and yelled - it sounded like gargling as his tongue and throat filled with the burning hardening substance. He quickly stopped screaming, purely because it was physically impossible. Eventually it filled him, all the way down to his digestive system until it came out of his mouth covering the lower half of his face.

“That should shut you up, now if it’s alright with you Archvist, I’m gonna wank over your tits. Feel free to say no!” Jude cackled as she watched John be unable to move or speak, only tears fall from his eyes.

Nikola Orsinov / The Stranger

Nikola didn’t want John tied to a bed, and she wanted him clean and fresh. So when this section of the forced nightmare Elias concocted appeared, he didn’t hurt at all. His body had healed, his holes had not been violated, and he was instead, sat tied to a chair with the horrifying mannequin masquerading as a human in front of him. Her smile and inhuman face haunted him more than anything, the memory of this section of the dream was hazy but he remembered her face and smile.

“Good Evening, ARCHIVIST,” Nikola said, her movements towards John angular and awkward. “What Should I Do With You?”

“You could let me go,” John suggested sardonically. Nikola laughed her disjointed laugh, one that scratched against John’s bones.

“ALWAYS So Funny, ARCHIVIST. As You Know, Mannequins Are Not Built For This Particular Activity.” She knelt down, and tore John’s shirt open. She tutted as she saw his gut. “You Do Take TERRIBLE Care Of Your Skin, ARCHIVIST.” She slit open his stomach, causing him to scream out - his throat no longer hoarse and sore. She pushed her cold fingers, with the softness of skin but the hardness of plastic inside of the wound. As she began brutally fingering John’s stomach. She penetrated the wound, pulled it open, and let his stomach acid drip down his gut, onto his pubic hair and eventually fall onto his clitoris causing him to whine. Nikola giggled, the noise far too close to John’s skull which felt as if a rat was digging it’s way into his cranium.

“SUCH Cute Little Noises You Make ARCHIVIST,” Nikola hummed. “Maybe This Will Be Fun.”

Hezekiah Wakely / The Buried

“What a sweet boy,” Hezekiah said softly. John flinched and struggled. He hadn’t felt the presence so close to him until now. The coffin was chained shut and buried deep, deep within the earth. No one else should be able to fit inside with him but there was a hard, cold body next to him. Arms around his chest and a heavy, foul breath covering his face. He felt long thin hands grope at his body, as a rodent began crawling over his chest. A rat, John thought based on the tail.

“Hezekiah,” John said finally, his breath stilted and strained. “What a lovely home you have,” he added sarcastically.

“Thank you, Archivist, I made it just for you,” Hezekiah responded. He pushed two fingers into John’s mouth, who winced and repressed a wretch at the taste of dirt. He began fucking John’s throat with his fingers until he threw up, vomiting a yellow substance that had chunks of mud matted inside it. John felt the rat by his thigh, scratching and nibbling at his skin. Hezekiah’s hands gently massaged his breasts, carefully rolled a thumb over his nipple. John’s breathing grew heavy and he whined. He hated how tender and sweet it was. The affection made it worse. The way Hezekiah kissed his neck, gently nipping and how his hands made their way down to John’s trousers. He unbuttoned them, his filthy fingers finding John’s labia and prying it open. Softly fingering him, the dirt sticking to his cunt as the rat left his new wounds alone and made its way to his stomach. Deciding this was a better place to nibble and bury.

“Please, please stop,” John whimpered as he felt Hezekiah’s fingers masterfully rub against his g-spot and stretch open his cunt. He hated how it made him into such a weak, quivering wreck. Perhaps it was how the rat had now buried a nest in his stomach, a wound that leaked and weeped as the rat began nibbling at his organs, or maybe it was how Hezekiah touched him like a gentle lover.

“Not until my seed is filling your sweet womb,” he said, pulling down John’s trousers and pressing his cock between his thin thighs.

Maxwell Rayner / The Dark

John was back in the bed, the dirt, vomit, blood, viscera, stomach acid, and urine that had been staining his body had now disappeared. His shirt and trousers were clean, and not torn. There were no longer gaping holes in his thigh and stomach, his skin clear and unharmed as it had been - scars not withstanding. He allowed himself to relax for a moment, however that turned out to be more short lived than he’d expected when the light in the room suddenly vanished. It wasn’t as if someone had turned the lights off, it was pure emptiness. The windows no longer let any street lamps in, or lights from passing cars. John’s eyes couldn’t even adjust, he attempt to lift his hand to discover he couldn’t as he was restrained. He looked down instead, not able to even make out a shape of his torso. It was time for the Dark it seemed. Maxwell Rayner.

“Maxwell?” John said, he never really found the dark scary as such. However, being restrained inside it with a terrifying rapist ready to torture him? That was a different matter entirely. He heard movement, and his head snapped around pointlessly. Nothing. Suddenly, there was a weight on top of him, heavy pungent breath coating his face.

“Archivist. Jonathon, yes? No. Tonight you will be… Clara,” Maxwell said sinisterly. John stopped breathing for a moment, Maxwell so casually using his birth name made his blood run cold. Not to mention the implications given who Maxwell’s usual prey was.

“How did you- that’s not- no.” John felt pathetic as he spluttered, as if he had earned Maxwell’s snort of laughter. He ran one finger down John’s face and gently stroked his cheek.

“Shush, don’t get so worked up, Clara darling,” Maxwell mocked, John didn’t have to see his face - he could hear his smirk.

“I’m not worked up, I’m perfectly calm. I’m simply telling you that’s not who I am-” John was silenced as a rough hand grabbed his breasts, as always in this dream he wasn’t wearing a binder. They were on display, and John swore they weren’t normally this big. He was quite small chested, but Maxwell seemed to have a generous handful.

“Mhm, whatever you say, sweetheart,” Maxwell hummed as he roughly groped his breasts and began grinding his cock against John’s cunt.

Daisy Tanner / The Hunt

John sighed in relief when the light returned, and especially when his wrists were free. He sat up, massaging where they had been bound and caused his muscles to ache. Stood at the end of his bed in a sports bra, a gun harness with two police regulation handguns inside, and blood stained jogging bottoms was Daisy Tanner. Her starburst scar on display, and her short blonde hair soaked with sweat. When Daisy turned around, John knew instantly she was taken over by the Hunt - just as she was every night. Her eyes were narrowed, her toned body larger and more striking. Her teeth were bared, pointed and sharp. She began pacing like a lion analysing it’s prey.

“Daisy, I- I know it’s not real but it’s good to see you,” John said hastily, shakily getting to his feet and not taking his eyes from Daisy. She didn’t say a word, simply continued pacing. John took a step closer, feeling foolish - he couldn’t reason with a dream. “I- I know you’ve… not exactly you anymore but-” Daisy growled and took a step towards him. “Okay. So you’re just.. going to… right.” John backed away, bumping into the door behind him.

“You should be dead,” Daisy growled as she pounced, her claw-like nails gripped John’s throat pulling him onto the bed. She held tightly, causing blood to seep down his skin. She tore a hole causing blood to start filling up his windpipe, John choked and spluttered, only surviving since he couldn’t die. Elias had insisted upon it. Daisy left him there for a moment, chuckling to herself as she ripped off John’s trousers and underwear. She let them fall into rags beneath him, and smoothly pulled a gun from it’s holster. She watched and smirked as she slipped the weapon inside his cunt, shoving it in as deep as it would go. Enjoying seeing John scream, yell, and struggle as she raped him with the gun her police sergeant had entrusted just to her.

Jane Prentiss / The Corruption

John let his body fall into the bed when Daisy left, his breath heavy and his limbs exhausted. He wasn’t looking forward to hers in particular given their history, it was always different every night. The Corruption however was always on a similar line. And it started with a silver worm dropping from the window.

All John could think when the worms began appearing in the room, was thank god it wasn’t spiders. They wriggled in from under the door, the windows, and down the walls. John knew this meant Jane Prentiss was arriving, and since she enjoy a filthy, corrupted body the blood and scars from Daisy still soaked his body. The worms got to John first, no matter how much he struggled they bit into his flesh, burying and scaring him all over again. He saw them crawl under skin, moving strange lumps making him want to claw at his arm and rip them out. He felt them all over his body, crawling into his mouth, his cunt, and his arsehole. He gasped and struggled. He squirmed, kicked his legs, arms and screamed out. He felt them inside his throat, his larynx, and falling down his digestive system to suck on the inside of his gut. They were stuffed inside his cunt and asshole, crowed and wet. They were sucking on his cervix, his prostate, his g-spot, his and clitoris. John could barely open his eyes, feeling his body go through intense pain, alongside orgasming which made the agony and violation even worse.

When his eyes finally were able to flutter open he saw a familiar shape at the end of his bed. Still just as rotten and infested as before. Jane Prentiss. Her neck was bent at an awkward, unnatural angle. She had a smile which look as if someone had cut from one eyebrow to the other with sharp teeth filling the gap. When John tried to speak, she let out a screeching noise which caused the worms bite harder, digging into his flesh. They dug through his vaginal canal and his skin, into his intestines, and roamed through his body.

Jared Hopworth / The Flesh

John sighed in relief when his skin and body returned to normal, no blood, no residual worms, no bruises… and most thankfully he was no longer in agony. However, that would soon change. Jared was next, and John knew he most enjoyed a blank canvas to work with. He winced the moment he heard the loud footsteps outside of the door, and sure enough Jared’s large, uneven, oddly shaped frame was stood there. His tongue licking his lips as he threw his weight behind one foot then the other. He made a strange shifting sound as he walked, as if his muscles and bones weren’t quite stable within his body. John didn’t say a word just stared as Jared approached, who smirked and leered like he’d done this a thousand times before.

Jared sat on the bed, causing it to creek and groan, the slats sinking all the way to the ground. John attempted to escape, his bonded wrists making it a fool’s errand. He felt a large, bumpy hand grab his ankle and pull him towards Jared.

“Come on now, don’t be such a pussy,” he growled.

“I’m- I’m not- it’s normal to not wish to be raped,” John replied indignantly.

“Well, I’m going to fucking destroy you, and you’ll have no little boyfriend around to help you disappear this time.” On that Jared ripped John’s clothes from his body. “Shall I take another rib? Yeah, from the other side, even it out.” John yelled and gasped as Jared shoved his hand inside John’s flesh. He roughly pulled out a rib, and grinned. “You have such pretty bones, you know that?” The viscera, blood, and body fat dripped down his hand and arm. “Clean it for me, yeah?” He shoved it inside John’s mouth causing him to gag, wretch, and his throat to spasm. Jared pulled it out causing John’s to vomit all over his front and cover the soiled bone in bile. “Ah. Well. Least it’s lubed up, yeah?”

Before John could ask what he meant, he discovered by feeling the sharp, repulsive implement invading his cunt. He felt his entire body stiffen and curl up, the sharp edges cutting his insides and the heavy ragged end slamming against his cervix. His face became wet with tears and he felt blood gather in his throat from his screams. Jared didn’t relent, he continued until he felt the flesh give way, pushing the bone through John’s cervix into his womb.

Oliver Banks / The End

John had somehow fallen asleep after Jared’s attack, he found his body healed and clean afterwards. He sighed softly, feeling inherently warm and comfortable. Perhaps he had woken up after all? No. This wasn’t his room, not his bed, Martin was not curled up next to him. He sighed, of course. Oliver hated seeing him harmed and hurting, the figment would be so loving whilst it was his turn. As if that made what was about to occur any better. At least this time he awoke before Oliver’s attack started, usually he was still asleep. He felt the long wandering arms touch his body, and John signed, remaining stiff and cold.

“It would be a lot easier if you lent into it, you know,” Oliver said, his hand slipping beneath John’s pyjama bottoms and teasing his pubic hair.

“Oliver. You know I would not enjoy it either way, just hurry up. It’s been a long night,” John sighed.

“I suppose that’s the problem with coming last, huh?” Oliver began fingering John’s hole, which whilst was physically unharmed John still winced from the memories of violation that had occurred again and again that night. “I don’t want this either.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t. This isn’t real, remember? The real Oliver wouldn’t even be in the room. But your brain? The thoughts Elias put in here? They’ve got to keep going until the job is done. Sorry.”

“Fine. Just. Be quick.”

“I’ll try. You’re not really enticing me though, which would help,” Oliver mumbled as he straddled John’s body. Somehow, the kisses on his neck, caresses, and the gentle way Oliver slowly pushed his cock into John’s cunt somehow makes it so much worse.

BONUS: Hurt/Comfort Martin / The Lonely

John awoke with a start, reaching out to his surroundings. He felt Martin’s warm arm first, then his pillow, and he opened his eyes to see his forest pattern bedding. He sighed and turned onto his side, wrapping his arm around Martin and holding tight as he buried his face into his soft warm back. He didn’t know whether it was his right grip or the crying that awoke Martin. Either way he turned around and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. His previously black curls were streaked a shocking white, they fell in front of his face as he slowly woke up. He didn’t technically need to sleep now, not since Peter Lukas… but it felt normal, nice even. He gave a sad smile as he saw John curl into his side.

“The dream again?” Martin asked, holding John as close as he could whilst still being gentle. All John did was nod, and Martin kissed the top of his head. “You’re safe, love. Just us two here. Just us two and no one else.” John whimpered and shuffled closer, resting his head on top of Martin’s chest. His head heavy as he desperately wished they had a normal, happy life.

[noodleskeleton]

2 Halves Of The Same Whole

Chapter 1

An original work based on mine and 8moon’s spidersonas. Co-written by my absolute best friend @8m00nl1ght8 <3

Ao3 Link, Wattpad Link

Word Count: 1738

Summary:

David and Mireya are about as different as you could be from someone else, but when a series of events brings them to the same abandoned building on the same night they’ll need to rely on each other to get through the new hurdles in their lives.

A.K.A

We made some spidersonas together and now we’re writing about them cause we’re a tad obsessed :)

PREV // NEXT

Chapter 1 - Before The Big Bang

'Do I miss Russia?' He thinks bringing the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling deeply. David stares up at the bright full moon as he leans on the cold windowsill of a windowless window frame, the moonlight making his snow white hair look so bright and his gray eyes even lighter almost as if the grey is not there. He tilted his head back exhaling the toxic smoke, his hair parting to reveal the scar on his forehead, it was a big brown mark spreading across the left side of his forehead, the thing that changed his life forever. For better or worse you ask? Debatable.

The stars, that is one thing he certainly missed about Russia. New York has hardly any stars due to light pollution unlike his home-village surrounded by miles of woodland, the view of the sky was so beautiful David would lay taking in it's beauty for countless hours every day for so many years wondering how he could escape his prison, his "home". 'What even is home?' He thought to himself, taking one last drag of the cigarette before flicking it out of the window. One would think at 18 years old you would understand what home means, but not David. He has heard many opinions on what home is, some say it is where your family is and others say it's simply where you live or where you feel safe, and yet David feels uncertain still to what 'home' really means. He walked across the empty room filled with cans and other trash, covered floor to ceiling with lousy graffiti made by David himself, exhaling the toxic smoke once again as he leaned against a wall sliding himself down to sit against it. He tucked in his knees hugging them to his chest and pulling his sleeves over his hands in an attempt to warm himself up a little before closing his eyes to try to get a good night's sleep.

He felt a pinch on his hand slightly making him jump. He swiftly opened his eyes and inspected what was wrong when he saw the most disgusting, monstrous, foul creature to exist, David's number 1 enemy, a spider. He gasped, swiping it off, getting up in a hurry. He looked around the moon-lit room, eyes wide in panic, but it seemed as if it vanished into thin air. Everybody knows it is worse to lose the spider than to find one but right before he could collect himself and calm his breathing someone burst into the room. A girl? She seemed young, at least a couple years younger than himself. She had short brown hair with honey coloured skin and these fierce dark brown eyes that looked right through you like daggers. By the looks of her tidy clothes she was not homeless like him, so what could she possibly be doing here?

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

Mireya sighed as she finally left the run-down building people called a school. It was hardly holding itself together most days and it most likely wasn’t safe enough for human habitation, yet every week day she still trudged her way through the streets to spend 7 hours wasting away there. She felt a glare form on her face as her complaints about her school grew in number but she did nothing to hide it. She was already known as the weird goth kid at school and if her anger kept people away from her then she was more than happy to play the role people gave to her.

She put her headphones on as she made her way to the daycare where her younger siblings currently were. Fabian and Juliana were too young to go to kindergarten yet but with both her parents working they couldn’t stay at home. Luckily, the daycare was only a 15 minute walk away from her high school so it wasn’t too much effort to walk there everyday. As she reached the gates of the daycare she turned her music off and hung her headphones around her neck. A few parents waved at her kindly and she waved back, praying to whatever higher power was out there that none of them tried to start a conversation with her.

Thankfully, none of them did and 20 minutes later she was at home with Fabian and Juliana, looking through the empty cupboards for a snack to give them. There were two packets of Cheetos so she pulled them out and gave them to her baby siblings. Usually now would be the time she would quickly rush any homework she had before she got too busy babysitting the kids but before she could even reach her bag, the door opened with a loud bang and her half-sister Lucita swayed into the house.

It wasn’t unusual for her to do so, despite having moved out 2 years back when Juliana was born, but it still brought a scowl to Mireya’s face. The only reason Lucita came round anymore was to take money or food, things the Perez family had little of, and it was almost a guarantee that her sister was either high or drunk. Mireya stomped over to the inebriated 22 year old and crossed her arms, blocking her from getting into the living room where the two toddlers were playing.

“What do you want, Lucita?” She made sure to point her fiercest glare at her. “If you’re looking for food then you're out of luck.” Lucita giggled at her, swaying as she leaned against the wall.

“Hiiiiii Reya!” She slurred, “What’re you doing here?” Mireya sighed, already preparing to kick her out the house. “Anyway, never mind that, do you think you could lend me a few dollars?” Lucita stumbled forwards, almost knocking a painting from the wall.

“No, Lucita. I cannot lend you anything, we’re barely getting enough for food as it is.” Mireya raised her eyebrow, hoping the woman would get the hint and leave.

“Awww, come on! I just need a tenner to get some food tonight.” Lucita whined, doing her best attempt at puppy dog eyes, the look ruined by her drunk smile and tired red eyes. “After that I’ll leave you alone forever I promise, please don't make me go hungry Reya.” Mireya sighed again, knowing already the only outcome of this.

“Wait there,” she ordered and went to the kitchen to grab 10 dollars from the rent jar. She slapped it into her sister’s hands and all but shoved her out the door, ignoring the slurred thank you’s and promises of leaving them alone after this. They weren’t true in the slightest, Mireya had given up on getting Lucita to leave them alone but she could never quite bring herself to refuse the woman. It just made her even angrier at everything.

She shoved all her emotions down, knowing she had to focus on Fabian and Juliana for now. When it was dark she could go out and deal with her anger and other emotions, but right now, she had to make sure the two babies didn’t kill themselves until either her mum or dad came back from work.

It ended up being 10pm when her dad finally came back, the kids already in bed and fed. Mireya said hi, expecting the lack of reply that her dad gave her before she moved to the door to put her shoes on. As expected, her dad didn't mention anything and Mireya slipped out of the house and started walking, finally digging up the anger that had been building all day. She started running, her thoughts solely focused on how unfair everything was as she let her feet take her somewhere else.

As expected, she ended up somewhere she didn’t recognise, surrounded by run down shops and abandoned buildings. It was dark, and crumbling and down right creepy. She loved it. She wandered around the street, taking in the broken architecture and thinking of ways someone more artistically gifted than her could paint it. Perhaps they would try to use bright colours to make it seem more friendly, afraid of the connotations of darkness and ruin. Or maybe they would make it hazy, emphasizing the dark and dangerous atmosphere that surrounded the street.

However they painted it, Mireya was sure that it would look cool. These types of landscapes always took her fancy, the ruined buildings and abandoned houses looked almost gothic in their decay. It always interested her, the beauty of death. The way that even as they crumpled and rotted, flowers still managed to look pretty. Perhaps it was strange to think that way when blossoming flowers held so much more value, looked infinitely more vibrant, but thinking that she was strange was self centered and narcissistic. It was so much better to just say that she was goth and leave it at that.

Her philosophical thoughts were interrupted however, by a high pitched scream emanating from one of the abandoned buildings. She froze her lazy wandering and looked around for a sign of a struggle, finding nothing but empty pavement. She started running towards where she heard the scream and came upon an abandoned building covered in graffiti. Lines of various widths and colours encapsulated what looked to be an old corner shop, bubble writing standing out harshly against the dark brick and concrete of the 70’s architecture.

Mireya slowed her steps as she entered the building, seeing more signs of someone living there as well as muffled grunts. The graffiti only grew more frequent as she ventured inside, words in both English and what she assumed to be Russian covering the walls in stylistic lettering and pretty colours. She almost stopped to take in a masterpiece of a mural covering one of the walls when she remembered the scream and forced herself to the back of the building.

She looked at the door leading to what was probably a staff only room, seeing light under the door and a shadow moving about swiftly. Cautiously she reached for the handle, turning it impossibly slowly to avoid creaking, and pushed open the door. She stepped inside and looked around.

The first thing she noticed was a massive stack of various spray paints. Whoever lived here was probably the artists responsible for the colours infecting this decrepit landscape, and they were extremely good at it.

The second thing she noticed were the startling grey eyes staring directly into her own.

[smalls-words]

Business or Pleasure?

Summary: A mission leads Natasha to an old friend.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Fem!Spider!Reader

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Warnings: blood, poison, choking by blood.

Requested: yes/NO

Words: 2,043

A/N - You’re kinda like Spider-Gwen, but much darker and deadlier 🤪

*not my gifs*

"Natasha, status."

The Widow sat perched up high on the building opposite her target, watching as Steve rose through the glass elevator in front of her, facing her in his uniform.

"In position." She echoed back.

She watched him nod once before he turned back around, the elevator stopping to let in a woman Nat had not seen in the research of the HYDRA facility before her.

She pulled out her phone and hacked into the elevator camera, not even needing to scan her face as it was none other than you, Y/N Wayne.

The only other billionaire she knew.

The elevator stopped again for you to get out, disappearing from sight as Steve continued up the side of the building.

"Natasha." He asked calmly.

She briefly shocked herself out of her thoughts and confirmed the coast was clear before continuing to follow you along the security cameras. She watched as you pulled out your phone and dialled a number, unrecognisable by the speed of your thumbs.

"Good evening, Natasha." Your voice gravelled through the comms and she stilled.

"Y/N." She greeted you.

"Pray tell why your little Captain Blondie is coming into the building I own?"

"I know you already know the reason, Wayne."

"Eu contraire, Romanoff. I am simply the CEO of a billion-dollar company that bought the building when Hulk destroyed it. Nobody saw it coming. Or did they?" Your laugh chuckled through before Nat looked down at the camera footage on her wrist.

You were staring at the camera she had selected.

"Have a good night, Natasha. Don't let Wonder Boy destroy too much of my building."

The cameras and the phone call clicked out in sync and Nat looked up at the building.

"Steve, I'm blind."

"Then get up here quickly!" She heard him yell through a flurry of punches and she shot out a grappling hook onto the side of the building.

As she swung, however, a white, green and black body bashed into her with their own form of swinging… 

Web?

"Watch where you're swinging, Romanoff!" You muffled through your mask.

Of course you had made yourself a suit. Just like your brother.

"Get me up there and I'll buy you an apology drink." The Widow pleaded as she hung next to the building by the mechanism around her waist.

"Hold on tight." You remarked.

Nat did just that and you shot out two webs by your wrists, pulling back momentarily before you were sling-shotted up the side of the building and right into the line of fire. You threw herself against the glass and it smashed easily, the fight between HYDRA agents and Captain America ceasing momentarily.

"Come on, guys. Can't we talk this out?" You quipped behind your grey mask, two lenses for eyes that shifted with the movement of your eyelids as you raised one eyebrow.

As the fight continued, you watched bullets rip through walls and ceilings whilst Steve soon began to throw people through those instead.

"Alright, stop destroying my building." Your wrists flung out and huge webs tangled the HYDRA agents and subsequently, Steve.

"What the hell?!" He yelled in protest.

"You can stand electricity, right?" You asked Steve and he nodded, a small device attaching to the webs before a painful shock was delivered to the agents.

"Alright, good talk guys." You grumbled through your mask.

"No it wasn't." One of them groaned before his head rolled back out of consciousness.

You held out your hand and your nails stretched out as small talons, dragging them along the web holding Steve before the silk withered away and he was free.

He looked up at you. "Thanks for that…”

"Arachni." You excused yourself with your 'hero' name and nodded once to Nat.

"See you in a minute, Romanoff." You saluted playfully as you jumped back out of the window, twisting on your hip until you swung away into the night.

⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖⧖

"Miss Wayne, you have a visitor."

"Send them in, Lani." You replied on the buzzer and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as the door opened.

"Good afternoon, Miss Romanoff. How can I help you?" You sat back in your large chair and sipped on the small shot of bourbon in a glass.

"You know, drinking on the job is frowned upon." The Widow sat down in the chair opposite you, full SHIELD gear covering every skin cell but her hands, neck and face.

"Can't be fired from a company when your family owns all of the shares. What are you here on, Miss Romanoff? Business or pleasure?" You asked, placing the drink down.

"Unfortunately, business." Nat responded as she slapped a file down on your desk.

"We were searching for this man last night in your building. He was not there. Care to tell us any information you know of him?"

You picked up the file and skimmed through it, your eyes keeping up with the quick pace before you swiftly pulled out the photo of the target Nat was after.

"Ulysses Klaue. Yeah, I've heard of him. Sold him a bunch of stuff in a convention a while back." You murmured, mostly to yourself.

"We need to find him. Quickly." Natasha stated, folding her arms.

"Here." You held out a small device and Nat reached for it, but you quickly swiped it back.

"I wanna come." You bartered.

"Done. Now give." She made a gimme motion.

You held it out again and Nat swiped it before you could think of pulling back - not that you wanted to.

"You put a tracker in him?" The Widow scoffed playfully.

"Of course. He threatened my brother - I was going to kill him eventually. It was fun to watch him run around like a little scaredy-cat when I would hack into his systems." You chuckled as you stood, pressing a button on the small remote next to your closed laptop and the TV on the left wall turned on. 

A dark-mode version of the world map appeared, trackers all over the world blinking as small colourful dots.

"And what do the colours mean?" Nat asked as she walked closer, inspecting it.

You tucked your hands into the pocket of your suit as you followed behind Nat. "Green means ally or friend. Amber means someone on the fence, like a whistle-blower or a concern. Red means enemy."

"There's a lot of red." Natasha remarked.

"I tend to have a lot of enemies." You shrugged as Nat turned towards you. "Both as Arachni and Y/N Wayne."

"I can tell. Miss Luthor is gunning for your building since we messed it up last night." Nat smirked softly at you, to which you simply rolled your eyes.

"Lena is a greenie. Besides, she is but a few million dollars. My brother and I's wealth is over $80 billion. I might give it to her for free, considering it is worth over five times herself." You sipped on your bourbon again.

"Why have so much cost to such a small, dinky building?" Nat leaned against the table whilst you rolled your eyes.

"Natasha. If my brother was so dumb to hide his base in our little manor, how does a woman like me find a hiding place of her own? How does a woman hide from the spotlight?" You questioned.

"She hides in the shadows of men." The Widow reiterated her training before realisation hit her like a truck.

"Vy ne edinstvennaya dezertirovavshaya vdova. (You are not the only defected Widow.)" You smirked before you pulled your hair away from your shoulder as well as your suit, a brand revealing on your chest.

An hourglass with a slice splitting it vertically in half was burned into your skin.

"So, defect, how are we supposed to catch Klaue?" Natasha smirked.

You grinned. "With my help, of course. After all, a spider's much more patient than a bat."

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You sat with Nat on the rooftop, just like the week before, and the two of you made small talk whilst you waited for your tracker in Ulysses to move from the meeting room.

"So, Y/N Wayne." Nat started.

"Yes, that is my name." You smirked back as your mask pooled around your neck.

"Why fight crime alone? Shouldn't you be out fighting with your brother in Gotham?"

"Gotham isn't big enough for two Wayne's. If I was there at the start, the Joker wouldn't have killed Harleen." You were saddened slightly at the memories that flooded forth at her name before the emotion passed.

"I'm sorry about her death. Truly." Natasha apologised.

"We both know, Natasha, that people like us are not destined for love." You flicked out your talons as you traced along your skin, the sensation calming you.

"Are those real?" Nat pointed to them and you looked up at her.

You took off your gloves and flexed out your wrist, three flaps of skin visible before the light pressure against your palm caused you to fire a web behind Nat's head and into a chimney.

"Of course it is. They spliced my genes with a spider." You reminisced.

"Sorry. Forgot about that old procedure. They cut it out before they took me - something about too many defects or deaths in the labs to replenish the deaths in the field." Nat smirked at the first part but saddened as well at the last part.

An alert to your tracking device made you pull your gloves back on, immediately tapping away as you leaned back on your chair and balanced on the back two feet.

"Klaue's done with his meeting. He'll be down in precisely twenty-two seconds." You reported.

"Best we swing on down there." Nat smirked as you wrapped a hand around her waist and shot out a web to the building, slinging you both down towards the car before you pressed twice against fake ear piercings.

Your super-suit folded away with nanotechnology, revealing a dark green suit, a white dress shirt underneath and black dress shoes as you walked up to the sketchy man.

"Ahh. Miss Wayne. So good to see you." He greeted you shakily.

"Ulysses." You addressed him formally, trying to keep your anger to yourself.

"So, about the whole 'I'm going to kill your brother if you don't build me a new arm'... d'you think we can hush that over and you can help me out?" He spoke hurriedly as gunshots fired in the levels above him.

"I don't know, Klaue. Family comes first in my world, and you threatened it." You stepped closer to him and he stepped back.

"Al-Al-Alright, no need to get hasty. Dwaas. (Fool.)"  He murmured the last part to himself, but your hearing caught it.

"Jy verwar dwaasheid met intelligensie. (You confuse foolishness with intelligence.)" You hissed at him in his native language and he jumped lightly.

"Now, now, I didn't mean it." He backed away from you.

"Oh, but you did. I can hear your heartbeat lying, Ulysses." You flicked out your talons and dragged them across his face, poison leaking into his skin and it burned away at his flesh.

"What... What the hell are you?!" He howled in pain as the veins of his face turned a sickly shade of yellow whilst the sclera of his eyes did the same.

"The last thing you'll see on this planet." You swiped your hand through his neck, severing his trachea and poisoning his system whilst he writhed on the ground before coming to a stop.

"What about justice?" Nat spoke from behind you.

"Justice is Superman's gimmick." You huffed as you cleaned the blood off of your fingers.

"Is it wrong to say that your whole stunt just then was kinda hot?" The Widow moved closer to you.

"No. I am known to be quite captivating." You let Natasha kiss your cheek softly before you held your wrist out to the open air.

"Hopefully the next time you visit my office, your business is for pleasure."

"You still owe me a drink." Nat smirked.

"I guess I do." You chuckled.

You shot off once your web landed on the side of a building, your suit coming back onto your body as you swung up into the dark night.

[ahatintimepieces]

In Want of Stitching

I am delighted to present another little fic for the build-a-bear au by @smieska-draws​‘ and me! Smieska generously offered to let me post her incredible art above^ with this fic where Hattie is reunited with her favorite doll from her childhood! The doll is worse for wear, but Hattie knows just how to help! Be sure to give Smieska your love, and if you missed it, the previous fic is here. Without further ado, enjoy!

Words: 4,180

Hattie kicked her legs as she perched on the table in the breakroom. One hand was propped back, nestled between Dimitri’s bag and her backpack, and the other held her dwindling milkshake left over from dinner. While she waited for her dad to finish up with the last customer before closing, she watched Dimitri fuss with the supplies on the shelves.

He struggled to pull out one of the drawers and the sharp jostle of the handle caused the whole structure to shift. He froze and Hattie’s eyes widened as they waited to see if the cleaning items up top would tumble. While the bottles wobbled like a spinning toy wavering to a stop, they stilled without any avalanche and Dimitri and Hattie relaxed.

“I’m just going to deal with that in the morning,” Dimitri huffed, turning around. “Don’t tell your dad.”

Hattie gave him a thumbs up as she reached the dredges of her milkshake and the straw gurgled as it sucked air between the last of the frosty cream. While he crossed over to the rack of aprons, her gaze drifted down to the floor. The off-kilter shelf had shifted away from the wall, revealing a large dust bunny.

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to get a better look at the mound of grey that seemed to cover something else.

“See ya tomorrow, kid?” Dimitri prompted, snapping his name tag against the magnet on the wall.

“Probably!” She lifted her chin.

“Boss says a daycare center has scheduled a trip to the mall, so we might be busy,” he sighed, reaching for his bag. She scooted out of his way and nodded.

“That could be fun. But also noisy,” she offered, glancing up as she mentally noted to warn Belle, Mu, and Timmy that they needed to avoid the food court for lunch. Maybe hide in the café connected to the bookstore.

“Noisy is right.” Dimitri swung his bag over his shoulder.

“Will Dad have to work on the floor?” She lowered her empty milkshake.

“I imagine so,” he paused on his way to the door. When she placed the cup down and blew a raspberry as she slouched, he prompted, “why?”

“It just means I have to keep Mu and Timmy away. They’re trying to prove he’s magic and can blow things up with his mind.” Scowling, she swung her legs a little too hard and the table creaked underneath her.

“Is that why they asked him to heat up their—”

“Lunch?” She crinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

Dimitri sucked in air before bursting into laughter.

“They looked so mad when he used the microwave!” he wheezed, gesturing to the other table with the offending appliance. “Mu’s stink eye nearly killed me!”

“It’s dumb,” Hattie grumbled.

Catching her frustration, Dimitri reeled in his laughter and cleared his throat.

“There’s no harm in it,” he tried. “The boss can be a bit eccentric, and it can be fun to pretend, but I’m sure even Mu and Timmy know he’s not actually able to light things on fire or…” he paused, giving her a curious look, “steal souls.”

“They sure act like he does.” She turned away, cupping her chin in her hands.

“Have you told them it bothers you when they fixate on it?” Dimitri asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, and they ignore it because they think he actually does all of those things.” Her glare hardened.

“You could talk to the boss?”

“I don’t want him to know about the rumors.” After a beat, she looked up to meet Dimitri’s blank expression. “What?”

“He knows,” he said dryly. Her jaw dropped and he softened. “Listen, you might want to just talk with him about the whole Snatcher myth if it’s getting under your skin, but it’s not harming anyone. I think it also gets the store more foot traffic from teens, which isn’t usually our intended demographic. So, in a way, it even helps!”

Hattie groaned, flopping onto her backpack and staring at the ceiling.

“Hang in there, kid.” His shoes tapped against the tile as he walked towards the door. “But just talk to him. See you!”

“Night, Dimitri.” She gave a halfhearted wave as he left. Once the door shut, she fixated on the faint buzz of the lights in the breakroom.

Seconds ticked by.

She heaved herself up, bored with staring blankly and too tired to stew in her frustration any longer. After scooting to the edge of the table, she dropped down with her flipflops slapping against the ground. She intended to toss the milkshake cup and pester her dad while he closed the workshop, but her gaze shifted back towards the shelves. The oddly large dust bunny piqued her curiosity once more and she crossed over.

Crouching down, she prodded the clump of hairs and silver dust. A dead fly was caught in the webbing and bits of dirt or crumbs were suspended on the hairs. But when she pressed down, a firm something lay between her and the tile.

Shifting, she pressed her cheek against the wall and peered into the crack between it and the shelf. Behind the dust bunny lay a small doll, crushed and crumpled.

After a precursory check for spiders, she reached back and pinched one of the doll’s puffy sleeves. The dust bunny tickled her finger, and she crinkled her nose in disgust. As soon as the doll was pulled out into the open, she batted the wad of grey from its mitten hand, and the cloud of minuscule debris floated harmlessly to the ground. She gasped when she held the doll out in the light.

Beneath the grey streaks of grime, a missing button eye, the torn right arm, and a left hand hanging by a single thread, was the prince doll that she had loved so dearly when she was younger. Her heart soared, but the doll’s state soon had guilt souring her joy.

It had been ages. The last time she saw the doll, he had been a bit worn, but still intact. She had been near inconsolable when she lost him. Her dad promised to get her a new, better doll, but she loved the prince doll because of all the memories they shared. Despite all her searching and tears back then, her dad urged her to move on as the doll had continued to elude her. And no wonder! All this time, the doll had been in the breakroom rather than home. He must have somehow fallen behind the shelf at the workshop when she had been playing, only to be shoved deeper and deeper into the dark over the years.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, frowning at the frayed threads where a button used to be. When she poked the remaining button, it wobbled, threatening to soon snap away as well. She brushed back the yarn hair, covered in dust that caused the chestnut hue to appear murky. The felt crown looked more brown than yellow, and ashen stuffing dripped from the doll’s arm and broken wrist.

But… it was still her favorite doll. Though it had been years, relief surged through her chest.

“I’ll clean you up!” she promised to herself, gently giving the dusty, dilapidated doll a soft hug.

She knew how to sew, at least! And she had the materials at home. She could even surprise her dad! He always reacted positively when she showed him the hats or masks she made.

Scrambling to her feet, she carried the doll over to the table. She grabbed a couple of tissues to wrap him up, both hoping to keep him protected and intact and to prevent the dust from spreading in her backpack. She was just tucking him safely into her bag, nestled between new fabric she got from her millinery lessons earlier and a graphic novel that Timmy recommended, when the door thrust open.

She turned, noting her dad’s slouched posture as he removed his apron, which was common on days he had to both open and close the workshop. Holding his hand over his mouth, he tried to cover a wide yawn, but his sharp fangs still glinted in the light.

“Time to go?” Hattie prompted while zipping up her backpack.

“Finally, yes.” He paused, glancing towards the shelves. “Did Dimitri refill the sewing kits?”

She shrugged in Dimitri-solidarity when her dad turned back around. He accepted it without further prodding and tossed his apron onto a hook.

Hattie slipped on her backpack gently to keep from jostling the doll as her dad pulled out his hair tie and scratched at his scalp. He grabbed his keys and waited for Hattie to shuffle over.

Once he finished locking up and took her hand to lead her through the dark parking lot, she mentally went through the list of supplies she needed to fix up the prince doll. Neither she nor her dad said a word as their footsteps tapped against the still warm gravel. But that was normal for them. Her dad didn’t usually have much to say unless otherwise prompted by people or work, especially when he was tired. So, she continued her quiet pondering all the way home, staring blankly at the streetlights as the radio played family-friendly tunes at a hushed volume.

As soon as they got home, Hattie dashed into her room. She swept her arm across her workbench to clear away the new beret she was making and placed her top hat on the hat display stand her teacher had given her. Since she only had one, it was her favorite top hat that got the place of honor. Then, she dropped her backpack onto the ground and retrieved the prince doll.

He lay on the tissues that were now smeared with grey. Even just folding back the material caused Hattie to swiftly turn away and sneeze, jostling him as he perched on her palm. She’d need to clean the doll, but the open cuts in his arms worried her. After prodding around, she decided it might be better to pluck out the dusty stuffing, since his arms were closed off from his main body anyway. The loose button, too, she thought to remove to ensure easier cleaning.

She got to work, walking back and forth between her room and the bathroom as she ferried supplies. If her dad wondered what she was up to, he didn’t comment as he settled down in the living room to quietly read.

Setting up a doll bath in the sink by lowering the plug, she submerged the doll into the water with iridescent bubbles lining the porcelain. His one arm threatened to come off and his other hand floated at an odd angle. Undaunted, Hattie stuck out her tongue as she scrubbed the dust and cobwebs from his hair. The felt crown popped off at one point, and while she rescued it, the original gilded color seemed beyond saving so she decided to replace it. But she kept the crown nearby so that she could copy the size and shape.

Once the years of neglect were scrubbed away, Hattie drained the sink and rinsed the soap suds from the doll. The chest felt heavy with the water, even more than the lolling head. But hopefully the doll would dry just fine.

While wringing out the water, she tried to squeeze the doll gently, intent on preserving the fragile threads. Finally, she laid him out on a towel and used another to dab up as much water as she could. Wondering if she could borrow her dad’s hairdryer to speed up the process, she hurried into the living room.

“Da-ad,” she called as she padded onto the carpet. “Where’s your hairdryer?”

“Under the sink in my bathroom. Why?” He turned the page of his novel without looking up.

“It’s a surprise.” Arcing around the table, she peeked at the title. She recognized it as Ember’s latest recommendation from her book club. Curious, she slipped over to the armrest where he reclined. She leaned over his shoulder and identified Ember’s annotations that lined the margins in pencil, confirming that she had loved it enough to lend him the book.

“Should I be worried about this surprise?” he asked, unbothered by her hovering.

“Nope!” she chirped cheerfully as she jumped back to face him.

“Carry on, then,” he muttered, his golden eyes flittering back and forth as he read.

The amber light from the lamp behind him skipped across the strands of his hair, painting the coal-colored locks with flickers of iridescent violets. With his cheek pressed into his palm and his elbow on the armrest, his gaze momentarily flickered away from the book as he used his pinky finger to turn to the next page.

“Need something else, kiddo?”

Instead of answering right away, she hopped onto the couch and crawled onto his chest. He held still as she flopped onto her back, staring up at the book.

“Is the story good?” she prompted.

“It’s crafted well.”

“But are you enjoying it?” She tilted her head back into his shoulder. He kept his eyes ahead.

“Not really.” He sounded calm as he said it.

“But you don’t hate it?” she clarified.

“No.” He turned the page.

She sighed, not expecting anything different.

Usually, it didn’t matter. But she didn’t want the same reaction if she asked how he felt about the rumors of the Snatcher. She knew Dimitri thought she needed to talk to him about it but…

“What would you do if you had magic powers?” she asked instead.

“What?” That got him to look down. He quirked a brow and she shrugged.

“If I had magic powers, I would make my top hat like a bag of holding. I could carry all my stuff everywhere and be prepared for anything.”

“Oh.” He relaxed and lifted his gaze back to his novel.

“So, what would you do?” she repeated.

“Hm?”

“What would you do with magic?”

He hummed, lifting his head and reaching over to help steady the book as he turned the page. Once he settled back, he shrugged.

“I’d use it to heat up my coffee.”

For a split second, she wondered if he was also privy to Timmy’s and Mu’s speculations.

“That’s boring.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m a boring person,” he provided.

She grumbled and he continued to read. Scooting closer to his arm holding the book, she wedged herself into the crook formed by him and the back of the couch. He shifted slightly, but otherwise let her get comfortable. She curled up so that the side of her head pressed against his chest.

There was a muffled crackling sound, like crinkled paper.

“Hey Dad, do you know about the Snatcher?” She tensed.

“You mean what everyone calls me at work?” He managed a snort. “Or do you mean all that talk of soul-stealing?”

She snapped her head up, baffled.

“Y-you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He met her gaze, though from the way his palm squished his cheek and he leaned back, he seemed far from interested.

“Because it’s not true!” She gestured wildly. “Isn’t that something your dumb books talk about? Unfair deformation of character.”

“I think you mean defamation,” he corrected with a sly grin.

“That too!” she insisted.

“It gets us more customers and makes my job more interesting. So, no. It doesn’t bother me.” He started to tear his gaze away, “But speaking of my dumb books—”

“But you don’t snatch souls or eat them!” She sat up, knocking his book back. He huffed as he lowered his arm. She perched on his stomach. “People are scared of you!”

“There are worst things,” he said in a lackadaisical tone. Since he couldn’t read, he swiveled his head in his chin to look out at the living room. He tapped his sharp nails against his cheek pensively.

“But Dad—”

“Hattie, it doesn’t bother me,” he interrupted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t you have something you were in the middle of? The whole Snatcher thing doesn’t matter. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

She pressed her lips into a tight line to keep from pouting.

“But why doesn’t it bother you?” she tried once more after a moment.

“Kid, that’s enough.” He wiggled his arm trapped behind her back to coax her off. “Go run along.” He suddenly sucked in a breath and covered a noisy yawn. The creases under his eyes deepened as the shadows stretched away from the light.

Hattie deflated.

“Fine,” she grumbled, scooting forward.

He grunted when she leapt off his stomach, but his focus returned to reading without another comment.

Hattie retrieved his hairdryer and returned to her bathroom, where the prince doll remained drenched. She turned the setting to no heat and plugged it in. While the drone of the hairdryer filled the bathroom, she zoned out.

All this time, she had been trying to shelter her dad from the rumors but apparently, she was the only one who cared that people thought he could suck souls out with his fangs like some sort of vampire who loved to sunbathe and didn’t mind garlic.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered under the whirling hairdryer. She glared down at the faceless prince doll. His mitten hand fluttered precariously while the gash in his bicep caught air and caused his arm to fluff up like it had stuffing again.

Her features softened as she carefully tilted the dryer back and forth.

She would rather her dad wasn’t upset by the rumors, which is why she waited so long to say anything, but somehow it felt lonelier than ever when she was the only one who cared.

With a slight slouch, she turned the dryer away and then carefully rolled the doll onto his stomach. She finished drying him out and placed him on a fresh towel while she cleaned up. And though she passed her dad as he returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug while she was on her way to the laundry room, he didn’t question her bundle of towels under his hairdryer.

Her step gained an enthusiastic bounce when she was finally ready to fix the doll. She carried him back to her workbench and gingerly set him down. For reference, she carefully pried the old storybook from her shelf and opened to the most crinkled set of pages, worn from love and constant rereads under her covers at night.

“Here it is, Prince!” She presented the first illustration of the kindly character with puffy sleeves greeting bluebirds, bunnies, and deer. She winced at the doll’s blank face. “Whoops. You can’t see. But don’t worry! I’ll fix that!”

She propped the book back against the worktable and used the beret and open sewing kit to pin it open. After she grabbed a handful of stuffing from her reserves in one of the drawers, found a button to match his eye, and sorted through the spools she’d need, she finally sat down.

Now that the doll was clean, his vibrant crimson coat and purple boots looked just like the illustration. But the blush on his cheeks had faded and one of the stitches meant to look like laces on his boots had frayed. With steady hands familiar with detail work from all her hat making, she looped thread through a sharp needle and got to work.

Fixing the boot and resewing the buttons was a bit tricky, but once the prince had his eyes again, his blank features regained the warmth she remembered. She stuck her tongue out as she restuffed his arms. At first, she wondered if she could add a little muscle definition but no matter how she finagled the lumps, she couldn’t get them to look right.

“Sorry, you’re stuck with noodles for arms,” she lamented dramatically, tugging out the extra fluff.

His large button eyes stared at the ceiling.

The final challenge was stitching his hand back on, and only because the mitten hand was so tiny. She struggled to keep it in place as she threaded the needle through his wrist. After having to backtrack and redo the area a couple times, she eventually got the hand snuggly back into place. The stitches lined his wrist, mostly concealed by the edges of his sleeve.

Then, she only needed to close the tear in his bicep and was able to hide the work under the gold band of his puffy shoulder. Once she placed the scissors down after snipping the final thread, she leaned back with an exhale. As she stretched out her back, she appraised her work.

“How do you feel?” she asked, cupping the prince doll and giving his arm and wrist a few squeezes. When she tapped his button eyes to ensure they remained firmly in place, she glanced up at the illustration to compare. She jolted.

“Your crown!” She whirled around, looking for the dull accessory that had popped off during the cleaning. Her head snapped down and she heaved a sigh of relief when she noticed it had fallen onto her carpet.

She grabbed the felt crown and procured a piece of scrap cloth leftover from the bright yellow beret she intended to give to her dad when it was finished. Snipping the dull crown to flatten it out, she traced its pattern on the scrap fabric. After she cut it out, she glued the edges together, careful to keep it seamless as she held the ends with tweezers.

“Perfect!” She held the new crown next to the prince’s head. She found a lump near the base of the yarn hair where the other crown had been glued previously and glued on the new crown its place. Once the glue had dried and the crown remained fastened to his head, Hattie beamed at her work.

“You look perfect!” She leapt to her feet, hugging the doll to her chest. “Let’s show you to Dad!” She darted over to the living room, shouts of excitement welling from her pride, but she skidded to a stop when she found him fast asleep on the couch.

She heaved out a sigh that dissolved into a blown raspberry.

Oh well.

Since even the book flopped open on his chest visibly quivered from his shivering, she crossed over to the wicker basket filled with throws and blankets and grabbed his favorite from the top. She dragged it over him with one hand, but when she reached the book with pages folding at odd angles, she looked from the blanket pinched in one hand and the prince doll cradled in the other.

“Watch him for me for a second,” she whispered to the prince, dropping the blanket and trading him for the book.

Her dad flinched in his sleep at the sudden shift, but she was too busy locating his bookmark on the coffee table to notice. After guessing where he left off, she placed the closed book next to his mug, which still had a puddle of coffee. She turned back around to find her dad twitching.

“Dad?” She reached out but recoiled at how much heat he radiated.

While his eyes remained squeezed shut, his chest jerked under the limp doll. Panicked panting gripped his restless slumber but before Hattie could try to wake him, he turned to his side, flinging the doll away as he twisted. Hattie bent to catch the prince as her dad’s breathing slowly returned to a calmer pace.

She placed the doll back on the table, fretting as she watched her dad’s tight brows relax. His long, spiky black hair tumbled over his sweaty features, but once his exhales fluttered out like a flickering ember, he began shivering again. Hattie crinkled her nose, holding the back of her hand to his forehead covered by hair and then to his clawed fingers.

Almost like ice.

Unsure whether she wanted to wake him after that, she tugged the blanket the rest of the way and watched him for a few seconds longer. He usually felt colder at night, often kindling the image of a campfire dwindling as those around it slept, but his sudden spike in temperature concerned her.

Was he getting sick?

A few more moments passed, and he remained steady. Hattie gnawed on her lip but decided not to worry. If she woke him up when nothing was wrong, he’d just get grumpy. She’d make sure to check on him later, though.

When grabbing the prince doll, she found it trembled in her palm. She tried to meter her own breathing to soothe herself, thinking her dad’s temperature spike had left her more shaken than she realized. She calmed enough to stop shivering after nestling the doll into the plush pile next to her pillow. But as she walked away to get ready for bed, she did not realize that the prince doll continued to tremble on his own.

Slowly, and like a heartbeat that just remembered its pulse.

[heliads]

The Value of a Friend

Peter Parker is fairly surprised when a classmate, Y/N L/N, is able to figure out his secret identity as Spider-Man. He’ll come to rely on her over the next few months, although he may make a surprise discovery about his feelings for her on the school trip to Europe.

masterlist

Peter Parker’s legs swing absentmindedly over the edge of the roof. There’s nothing much going on right now- brick, stucco, and metal as far as the eye can see. The lights of the city that never sleeps reflect off of the windows; a thousand sights and sounds and happenings littered down the boulevards. Despite all the comings and goings, the rush of people across the streets, nothing major has happened all night. Peter knows he technically shouldn’t be hoping for crime, but he does want at least one thing to happen to justify him staying up this late on patrol duty.

Peter’s got the usual mask pulled down over his face, disguising the heavy circles under his eyes. He may have superhuman strength and durability, but his powers don’t appear to help him run on less sleep. However, Peter’s used to staying up long nights patrolling. This particular moonlit outing isn’t unusual.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye, and Peter shifts to glance over at the orderly streets behind him. There- a girl walking down a sidewalk, her pace brisk and hurried to steer her quickly through an alleyway. With a rush, Peter realizes that he recognizes the girl. Her name is Y/N L/N, she’s in some of his classes. He wouldn’t exactly consider her a best friend, maybe more of an acquaintance. This isn’t due to any specific animosity, Peter just never really got the chance to talk to her. Sometimes, however, he wishes he had.

Y/N isn’t just smart like the other students in his class, she’s clever. Peter has seen the way her eyes light up when she figures something out, the same light that winks out from underneath her eyelashes when she laughs over a bad joke with her friends. Peter shakes himself for a second. Why is he thinking so much about her eyes? He shouldn’t have the way she smiles memorized at all, ready to call up at a moment’s notice.

Besides, Peter realizes with a dull chill, Y/N’s eyes are different from Peter’s on one grand scale. Y/N has no superpowered senses, and so she cannot tell that there are two or three men shadowing her as she wends through the streets. Peter curses softly, realizing that the men are definitely following her. Without a second thought, he leaps down from the building, swinging towards them on ropes of spider silk.

Peter’s goal was to take them out before they got close enough to reach Y/N. However, they were too far away and it doesn’t look like a secret rescue will be happening tonight. They’ve already cornered her in a narrow street, hands pulling guns out of coat pockets. Peter acts as quickly as he can- spiderweb launched at one, dragging him back against the wall of the street. The other Peter takes on directly, aiming a blow at the man’s head that knocks him backward before Peter hits him again. Peter would usually tie the thugs up and leave them for some other soul to deal with, but the men are already running away without a second’s hesitation and he doesn’t much feel like trying to track them down.

There’s a soft sound behind him, like a gasp of breath, and Peter turns around to see Y/N standing there, looking shaken but unhurt. Peter panics for a moment before remembering that his mask is still snugly in place. She would have no way of knowing him. Peter takes a hesitant step closer, reaching out his hands to show that he means no harm. “I’m, uh, Spider-Man. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes her head hastily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me from those guys.” Peter waves a hand. “No problem. All in the job description, you know?” Y/N laughs, but the sound dies slowly from her lips as she stares at him. Her head cocks slightly to the side, as if she’s considering something. She raises a hand slowly to point at him like she’s unsure of a truth but determined to say it nonetheless.

“Are you Peter Parker?” Peter stiffens, turning hurriedly to make sure that nobody could have heard her. Dimly, he realizes that he should have denied this first instead of acting like this was something to be hidden. “Uh, no. I don’t know who that is.” The lie sounds fake even to his own lips. A small smile is growing over Y/N’s lips, as if she’s incredulous. “You are. Peter Parker from chem class is Spider-Man.”

Peter figures that the game is up, so he tugs his mask from his head. Y/N’s eyes dart to his face, washing over every detail as if in awe. “It’s true. You’re actually Spider-Man?” Peter nods thickly. “How did you know it was me?” A slight blush forms in Y/N’s cheeks. “I, uh, you looked familiar.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “I was wearing a mask.” Y/N blushes harder. “You have the same voice. Is that better? You sound the exact same.”

Peter lets out a huff of breath at that. He can’t deny it- he’s messed around with voice settings on the suit before but never bothered to permanently give himself a different-sounding voice as Spider-Man. Now he’s paying the price for it. “Maybe.” A slight smile tugs at the corners of Y/N’s lips. “You were ready to be Spider-Man but you didn’t even have an excuse prepared to explain yourself?” Peter feels defensive. “Well, most people don’t actually figure it out. You’re the first, actually. Well, I had to tell Ned but only because he saw me crawling on the ceiling. I didn’t realize he was there, though. I don’t usually crawl on ceilings.”

Peter realizes he’s rambling and does his best to stop talking. Y/N’s smiling at him again, and he feels surprisingly fine about it. “I would hope not. Crawling on ceilings is kind of hard to explain away.” Peter scratches the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, that’s kind of why I had to tell him.” Y/N flashes him a grin. “Well, I appreciate the rescue, Peter-Not-Spider-Man. I’ll see you in class?” Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to leave. “I can walk you home if you like? I hear it’s kind of dangerous out here.” Y/N nods her approval. “Sure thing. Just make sure you put your mask back on first.”

Peter becomes friends with Y/N after that. There’s almost no way not to- she knows the biggest secret of his life, how could they not be friends? Ned is thrilled to find another ‘Friend of Spider-Man’, as he dubs Y/N, and the three of them get along surprisingly well. MJ, too, is glad to see Y/N around, although MJ has yet to discover Peter’s secret. At the rate he’s going, though, Peter has a shifting feeling that she’ll find out soon enough.

It’s after one of his late night patrol rounds that Peter finds himself knocking on Y/N’s window. He’s slumped against the window sill, hand pressed to his side. There was a mass robbery on the East Side, something Peter stupidly thought he could handle without a second thought. He stopped the robbery, that was true, but they’d managed to fire off several shots with some newfangled weaponry that even Tony would have to take a second look at. The result is this: a bloody cut on his side that doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

After a couple of seconds, Y/N throws open her window. She leans out, eyes widening when she sees Peter still dressed in his Spider-Man suit. “What’s going on?” She hisses, then her gaze finds the bloody slit on his side. “What is that?” She glances behind her, as if making sure everyone is asleep, then gestures hurriedly for him to climb through the window after her. “Quick, come in.” Once Peter’s standing in her room, Y/N closes the window, then leans against it, staring at the blood on his hands and the nervous look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Peter grimaces. “Robbery. Bit off a little more than I can chew. Do you have a first aid kit? I think I need to get this bandaged up but if I go home now Aunt May will freak out. I can’t stress her anymore, and I don’t think Ned knows how to stop bleeding.” Y/N shakes her head. “Gotcha. Give me a second, I can grab some supplies.” Y/N heads out of her room, reappearing in a minute or so with a box of bandages and medical supplies held triumphantly in front of her. 

She directs Peter to sit on a chair by her desk, and he does so, careful not to get any blood on, well, anything. Y/N takes a seat opposite him, bandages and an antibiotic for disinfecting the wound in her hands. Her brow furrows as she begins to treat the wound, and Peter can’t help but let his gaze linger across the determined look in her eyes, the slight curve of her lips as she focuses on the cut on his side.

After a while she straightens up, and Peter looks away hurriedly, feeling a slight blush heat up his cheeks. “I think that should hold you for a while. You said you had superhuman strength and stuff like that, right? You’ll probably be able to sleep it off.” Peter climbs back through the window, but just before he swings away he turns back, leaning his head through the opening to Y/N’s room. “Thanks a lot, Y/N. I mean it. I can’t think of anyone else I could turn to.” Y/N smiles at him, a smile that seems to light up the whole room. “No problem, Peter. If you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Peter is certainly grateful for his friendship with Y/N over the next couple of months. He ends up making a couple more stops by her room for help patching up various injuries, and when he has to deal with the aftermath of Tony’s death, she’s always there with some way to hear him out and cheer him up. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do without her.

When Peter gets word of the school trip to Europe, he thinks it’s the best thing that could happen to him in a while. Time to himself, with friends, touring interesting places. He’s hoping that a change in scene will finally let him breathe for a second, let him put aside the mask and suit and be Peter Parker once more. However, the appearance of the suit in his suitcase and one Nick Fury convinces him that this trip won’t just be a vacation, however much he wants it. Hopefully, he’ll have time to tell MJ how he feels in between the attacks of the elementals.

MJ. What is Peter supposed to do about MJ? He knows he has feelings for her, that much is obvious. He had a plan, carefully laid out steps that would culminate in Peter telling MJ he loves her and presenting her with a black dahlia necklace. However, as the fights with the elementals grow and grow, he has a feeling that won’t entirely work out. What is he supposed to do now?

He’s confessed his plan to Ned, just to hear another point of view. He told Y/N actually, at a different point in time. She’d seen the necklace and was wondering if he had a sudden taste in jewelry. It was strange, though, the second Peter had told her how he felt about MJ Y/N had gotten this sudden look, like she was shuttering the light in her eyes closed against the world. The sight of her, the smile slipping from her lips, made Peter feel like he’d done something terribly wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what it was. Y/N seemed fine after that, but he did notice that she stopped talking about the dahlia necklace or anything in the plan at all.

Things with the elementals end up going from bad to worse. Peter finds out that the man he thought was his friend, Quentin Beck, was actually the one behind the elementals all along. In fact, the elementals were nothing more than elaborate holograms, and Peter had gone and given Beck control over E.D.I.T.H. in the form of Tony’s glasses. Mr. Stark’s last gift to him, and Peter had tossed it away in a moment of misplaced trust.

It’s not like Peter is alone, though. MJ found out about Peter’s secret identity as Spider-Man, and now she, Y/N, and Ned are figuring out how to take down Mysterio alongside Peter. Peter feels a sudden rush of gratitude as he looks back at his friends. With people like them, people that matter that much to him, Peter feels like he could take on the world. And with Mysterio’s control over E.D.I.T.H., he just may have to.

The battle ends up going surprisingly well. Peter manages to turn the tide on Mysterio, refusing to fall for any of the man’s schemes and tricks. In the end, he is able to wrest control of E.D.I.T.H. away from Mysterio, thus enabling him to remove all of the drones and end the man’s plans once and for all. Now that the fight is over, though, Peter almost doesn’t know what to do.

He finds himself stumbling down Tower Bridge, limping from all of the various injuries he’s managed to obtain during the fight. The first thought in his head is that he should look for Y/N, for the one girl he always turns to whenever he needs help. Then MJ runs out from among the cars, and Peter focuses instead on her. She dashes over to him, throwing her arms around him and telling him that yes, everyone is okay and yes, he saved them all.

Distantly, Peter can see the figures of Ned and Y/N approaching, but it’s alright. They’re his friends, he doesn’t have to worry about pulling his mask back on. Peter pulls away, fishing around in his pocket for the black dahlia necklace. He feels crushed to see that it’s in pieces, but MJ says something about how she likes it better broken. It’s funny, though- Y/N has always been able to fix things. To fix him.

Peter pushes Y/N out of his mind. He’s not thinking about his friend, he’s thinking about MJ. MJ, the girl he loves, the girl who is right in front of him. The girl who’s just leaned forward and kissed him. Peter lets himself kiss her back, lets himself lean into her and block out the rest of the world. There’s the screech of traffic echoing around him from the parts of the city that haven’t yet shut down, and that is what drags Peter back to reality.

They break apart after a few seconds. MJ starts to step away, saying something about how she should probably get going before too many people see familiar Midtown students with Spider-Man. Peter nods, noting that Ned and Y/N have changed direction upon seeing MJ head their way once more. There’s a strange expression on Y/N’s face, a strange emptiness that hadn’t been there before. Peter wants to go run after her, to say something to make that quiet sorrow go away, but his feet feel leaden in place and all he can do is watch as she walks away.

Peter gets back to his hotel room late that night. Ned files in after him, chuckling softly about how his best friend managed to save the day and get with MJ in one go. However, Ned’s face falls as he says this. “Did you really have to kiss her in front of Y/N, though?” Peter frowns over at his friend. “What do you mean?” Ned spreads his hands. “Well, you know, because Y/N likes you. I thought it would be kind of mean to kiss MJ when she was right there.”

Peter feels like the ground is falling away underneath his feet. “Y/N likes me?” Ned nods. “Didn’t you know? She’s had a crush on you for a while now. Sorry, Peter, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” Peter waves away his friend’s apology, already heading to the door. Ned’s voice stops him. “You won’t be able to find her. She was scheduled to take an earlier trip home. Remember? It was planned out earlier in the month. She had to make it home early for some family reason, she talked about it on the flight.” Peter remembers this now, and his stomach turns at the thought of Y/N on that plane, all alone and stuck with the picture of him and MJ kissing.

Ned turns away to pack his suitcase, but Peter can’t think about anything productive at all. He’s beginning to realize that he’s made a very big mistake, something he can only hope to undo. There was a reason he hadn’t felt anything when he kissed MJ, when it had been awkward and emotionless. It wasn’t just because they were tired teenagers and didn’t know what to do, it was because he didn’t love her at all. No, the girl Peter loved is on a plane right now, and she thinks that Peter doesn’t care about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

What is he supposed to do? Y/N will hate him for this. Somehow, that one thought is enough to motivate him to reach towards his suitcase, to start packing again. He has to make it back, has to find his way home to tell Y/N how he really feels. He can only hope that Y/N will let him stick around long enough to say it.

Y/N doesn’t come to her window for a long time after Peter knocks. He’s almost beginning to think that it’s a lost cause and she’ll never want to speak to him again when the sash gently opens and Y/N leans out. She’s usually used to seeing Peter crouched on her windowsill, but for some reason she startles at seeing him like it’s his first time visiting.

Peter speaks softly, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I think I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.” Y/N holds up a hand. “I don’t need any explanations. You can do whatever you want, you didn’t have to come by.” Peter shakes his head. “Yes, I did. I know you had feelings for me once. I was kind of hoping that you hadn’t changed your mind about me.”

Peter ends up leaving Y/N’s room much later. He has a grin that he can’t seem to shake, and a bounce in his step that doesn’t fade for hours. He might just have managed to save himself, to convince the girl he loves that she should take a chance and stay with him. Besides, he’s kissed her enough to say a thousand words.

peter parker/marvel tag list: @namoreno​, @mycosmicparadise​

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

[zukkoxx]

sparring with the boys!

w/ bakugo, kirishima, sero, shoto

bakugo 💥

sparring with bakugo was nothing new.

you were one of the few classmates that could keep up with him in a match, and being his s/o was just another reason to spar with him regularly.

he also liked you to push yourself to get better.

no way would he date a weak side kick. you’d have to be able to give him a run for his money for him to even say a word to you.

most of the time, the spars were really serious.

a time where both of you worked on things you needed to improve on, and gave each other tips that you think would help.

even though bakugo was a bit reluctant when it came to getting advice, he still appreciated the fact that you cared about his fighting style.

sometimes though, on more chill days, you and bakugo would have a light match, which usually resulted into being able to spend more quality time with him. wink wonk ;)

it was a little early into the night, and bakugo decided to have a spar match before he went up for bed.

you two had been going for about half an hour already, and even though you both had energy to keep going, it seemed like the match was going a slow pace.

bakugo had sent his left fist towards you, and you swiftly dodged it, smirking when he growled.

he tried to throw you off by quickly sending a punch with his right, but you were able to grab his hand, and used your leg to trip him onto his back.

you quickly got on top of him, pining him down and smiling in victory

“what the hell? i said no legs this round!”

“what’s the fun in that katsuki? come on, this match is boring.” you sighed, about to throw your legs off of him when he stopped you, pressing his hand against your thigh.

he sat up so that you were straddling his lap. “boring huh? well what could i do to make it more interesting for you?” he had a scowl on his face, but you could clearly see the playful glint in his eyes as he stared at you.

“mmmm i don’t know, maybe stop sending punches directly to my face!” you yelled, pushing him away and standing up.

“you think a villain is gonna stop fighting you if you tell them to?” the blond asked, laying back down on the matted floor.

“maybe if i give him the puppy eyes. it seems to work on you, right?” you pouted playfully, sticking out your bottom lip and turning your eyebrows up.

bakugo’s scoffed turned into a chuckle as he stood up, walking closer to you. “you’re lucky your cute.” he bent down, pressing a peck on your lips before wrapping an arm around your back and pushing you to the ground.

you hit the floor with a thud and looked at bakugo who was glaring down at you mischievously. “prick.” you mumbled, turning your head away as he went to kiss you again.

his lips connected with your cheek, and you felt him smile as he pulled away. “your prick. dumbass.”

kirishima 🪨

kiri loved sparring with you!

it gave him a chance to practice on his hand on hand combat while being with his favorite person ever

sounds like a win win to him

you guys tried to spar at least twice a week, maybe three times if your schedules fit it

sparing with kirishima usually consisted of praising each other and exclaiming how good the other was.

it also never left either one of you hurt. kiri didn’t like to see his precious s/o in pain. especially not because of him.

“wow babe! that move was amazing! can you teach me that?”

“sure kiri. all you do is wait until your opponent throws a punch, then turn your back to them, grab it’s arm, and fling them over your back.” you demonstrated slowly to your boyfriend. “that should give you enough time to get the lead on them.”

kirishima stared at you lovingly as you explained. “what did i do in my past life to deserve such an awesome s/o?”

“kiri stoppp.” you blushed, laughing playfully.

you guys tried moves on each other for a few more minutes until kiri gave a suggestion.

“i’ve been trying to make my body stay hard for a way longer period of time. the problem i have is my stomach. it seems to not want to hold as much as my other body parts.”

you listened intently, grabbing a drink out of kiri’s water bottle. “so uhhh, you mind punching me a few times around there? just so i can try to figure out what’s the problem.”

“you sure kiri?” you asked.

“of course babe! i need some type of stimulation that would trigger it to stay hard longer. this will really help me out.”

you shrugged and agreed, watching kirishima lift up his shirt, cheeks heating up at the sight of his flexed stomach. “don’t get all flustered on me babe. it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“shut up.” you muttered before kirishima hardened his stomach and you began throwing punches around the area.

“aww come on y/n. i know you can do better than that. are you underestimating your man? i can take it!” he smiled, encouraging you to hit harder.

you complied, and started putting more force into the punches.

this continued for about four minutes, taking 10 second breaks each minute. by the time the five minute mark hit, you pulled your hands away, shaking them.

kiri looked at them, and gasped so loudly you thought he had hurt something.

but no, he was staring wide eyed at your hands.

“Y/N WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU WERE BLEEDING!?” he asked. you looked at your hands and shrugged. “i honestly didn’t notice kiri.”

“UGH this is all my fault. i’m sorry baby, i’ll take you to recovery girl ASAP.” he bent down, picking you up and flinging you over his shoulder with ease.

“but kiri i’m fine!”

your protest fell on deaf ears. your were already out of the training room and halfway down the hall to recovery girl’s office.

sero 🩹

training with sero was....an experience.

there was never a session that would end without you two flirting or making out with each other.

it was just...the two of you, alone together, in tight clothing and all sweaty?

a formula for disaster.

but- you weren’t complaining.

there were some times where you both took it seriously though.

sero would help you with whatever you needed to work on and you did the same for him.

recently, he was really set on working on his capturing technique. he liked the thought of behind able to snatch villains up before they could even think.

so of course you helped him achieve is goal.

“anyone anyone? please i need a hero!” you yelled in a high squeaky voice, hanging from one of the pull up bars in the corner of the training room.

“if i don’t get saved quickly, i’ll fall to my DEATH.”

sero came in shortly after, swinging on the tape from his elbows. “m’lady, what seems to be the problem?”

you scoffed halfheartedly. this was your idea sero

“well if you couldn’t already tell sir, i’m stuck on this super high building and my hands are slipping. please save me!”

“well lady you’re lucky i’m here! just hang tight and i’ll get you down as soon as possible.” sero nodded, and began walking away. you scrunched your face in confusion.

“uhh sero i know this is an act but i’m really slipping...” you warned. the pull up bar you were on wasn’t too high, but it was still left you hanging a few feet from the ground. enough to hurt your ankle if you fell from it.

and the stool you used to get up in the first place wasn’t under you anymore.

your hands were starting to sweat and you were actually slipping.

“sero quit joking around!” you yelled to the back of your boyfriend’s head.

a few seconds later, your hands let go and you closed your eyes, ready to hit the ground.

but instead, you felt something wrap around your torso, yanking you to the side. you yelped as you were pulled into sero’s arms.

when you realized he used to tape to pull you from hitting the ground last second, you looked at him with a frown. “that wasn’t funny.” you pouted, hitting his chest.

“did you really think i’d let my baby fall to their death? no way, mi amor.” he brushed his nose against yours, and you just couldn’t stay mad at him.

“thanks for saving me..my hero.” you kissed him softly and he finally let you go.

“hey! what to you say we do it again but i come from the ceiling. upside down. like spider man!” sero jumped in anticipation.

you didn’t deny his request.

shoto ❄️🔥

shoto was always hesitant when it came to sparring with you.

you were strong of course, and he knew that.

but he also knew his quirk was very difficult to defend against. and it was easy to get hurt when fighting against him.

and while he did want you to improve, he thought it’d be better for you to do it on your own, or with someone who’s quirk was a little less overpowering.

usually you agreed, but today you had just come back from a week with the hero you had been interning with and you wanted to show shoto everything you learned.

“okay shoto. don’t hold back on me now.” you told him before you started the match.

it was definitely an intense session. both of you were out of breath and sore after about an hour.

shoto eyed you cautiously as you bent over with your hand in your knees, feeling bad that he had tired you out.

“come on my love. don’t overwork yourself trying to impress me. i’m already so proud of everything you’ve done.” he said sincerely, pressing a hand against your back.

“but shoto, there’s still one more thing i want to show you.” you stood up, taking a deep breath to finally get your breathing under control and told him to go back to the other side of the spring mat.

he was hesitant at first, but did as he was told when he saw your pleading eyes.

the two of you started fighting again, and eventually you both started to get more competitive.

shoto already had a competitive personality, and while he was weary of you getting hurt, he did notice how you were able to stand your ground against him well.

you didn’t want him holding back, so he didn’t.

at some point, both of you were throwing long rang attacks that had the other falling to the ground.

you sent an attack to shoto that bounced him back, making him fall on his butt before he could stop it.

his eyes hardened, and for a moment he forgot this was just a sparring match with his s/o

he sent a huge plank of ice your way, scooping you under your feet and making you hit the ground hard.

he stared at you as you lay in the ground, breathing heavily.

after a few seconds, he realized what he had done.

“y/n!” he yelled, stumbling over himself to get to your side. he rolled you on your back so you were facing him, and his eyes sank in guilt when he saw you pain written face.

“i’m so sorry my love, i should have calmed down a bit. i didn’t mean to. are you okay?” he asked quickly, looking around for injuries.

you stayed quiet for a bit, before sitting up, grabbing shoto’s face, and pressing a big kiss against his lips.

he stared at you in shock

“shoto i’m fine!” you reassured. “i was just joking around.”

he couldn’t find words for a good 15 seconds, just staring at you with the same wide eyes from before.

after a while, his gaze softened and he shook his head with a light chuckle.

“that was cold y/n. real cold.”

“not as cold as the ice you used to slam me on my butt.” you respond, shoving his shoulder.

“i suppose you’re right.” he pressed a kiss in your forehead and cheek, letting it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. “i’m just glad you’re okay.”

hoped you guys like this! i’m open for feedback and requests! just type it here! :3 🥀

[shyvioletcat]

“I moved in next door a few months ago and had no idea how enthusiastic you are about Christmas, but I mentioned I hadn’t decorated, so now you’re knocking on my door with a box full of decorations and are begging me to let you decorate” — this one seems fitting for rowaelin too! I can see Aelin being the super excited one who wants to help her cute neighbor decorate heh

Day One of the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration. Just some neighbourly fluff to get us started.

~~~~~

It had been just before Halloween when Rowan moved into his new place. It was half of a neat little duplex, small garden and a stone path that led up to his front porch. He knew he had a neighbour but he hadn’t seen her until a few days before Halloween when she had been carting boxes and boxes of stuff out of her house onto her own front porch. Her long golden hair was braided back, grey puffy coat over her body, and she had given him a smile as he trudged up the stairs and it had stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you decorate?” She asked.

“I—what?” Rowan stammered, noting the colour of her eyes. A bright turquoise, all the brighter for the rosiness in her cheeks from the cold.

“For Halloween, do you decorate?” She asked again, leaning over her railing so she could see him better.

Rowan took a step down so he could do the same. “No, not really.”

“I like to go all out,” she told him. “I’m Aelin, by the way.”

“Rowan,” he replied simply.

“Nice to meet you, Rowan,” Aelin said. “Do you want some of mine, I have a lot. I don’t usually get them all out every year.” 

“No thanks,” Rowa said.

“Not one for Halloween?” Aelin inquired. 

Rowan shook his head. “Or Yulemas either.”

Aelin gasped and looked as though he had personally offended him. “Excuse me?”

This time Rowan shrugged. “Don’t have anyone to celebrate with.”

She grinned at him. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” She pushed off her railing and disappeared but called out, “I’ll make sure to keep my decorations to my side.”

Aelin had kept her word, not one strand of fake spider web had trespassed on his side of the building, the border between the properties meticulously outlined. It had made Rowan laugh. The next time he had seen her was as she handed out candy to kids, dressed like a faerie princess from a fairytale, green flowing dress and a flower crown in her hair. She had noticed him staring and lobbed a chocolate at him as Rowan walked up his path and he’d caught it. And just like that she had captured his heart. Sure she was annoying, obnoxious and a bit of a brat sometimes but there was something about Aelin Galathynius that he couldn’t resist.

Now it was the beginning of December, the air was already bitingly cold and Rowan was in his living room thinking of the smoothest way to ask out his neighbour when there was a knock on his door. Startled from his train of thought it took a moment for Rowan to respond and the knock sounded again.

He called out as he got up. “Coming!”

He opened the door and the sight in front of him was not something he had expected to see. It was Aelin, undeniably despite how little of her face was showing, but those were her brilliant eyes peeking above her scarf and under her beanie. Two boxes were by her feet and she held another one in her arms.

“Hey,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Hey,” Rowan replied lamely.

Then Aelin said something he couldn’t catch through the fabric of her scarf.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rowan said and reached out and pulled her scarf down a little.

Aelin’s mouth was revealed and she smiled at him. “Thanks. I was saying that I know you don’t decorate but yours is like the only house on the street with nothing on it and it looks so miserable and it’s making my place look bad too. So please, please let me decorate.”

Rowan blinked once. “You want to decorate my house.”

“Yes.” There was a long pause before she added, “Please.”

“You really want to?”

“I would love to,” Aelin assured him. “But you’ll have to help me.”

Rowan did, although he made a show of how reluctant he was to actually do so. Aelin had only laughed at him and continued ordering him around. He hung lights, held ladders and did just about anything else she had asked him to. It took them about two hours to get the outside up to Aelin’s standards. She insisted there were a few things missing, but to fix that she would need to go to the store. Rowan noticed that there was still one box left on the porch.

“What is that one for?” Rowan asked, blowing into his hands to warm them up.

“Decorations for inside of course,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Inside?” 

Aelin didn’t say anything before she ran up the steps, picking up the box on the way and went straight into his home––not waiting for any kind of invitation. If it had been anyone else Rowan would have been pissed beyond belief, but instead he just shook his and followed her in. He found Aelin in the living room, hands on her hips surveying the space. She looked severely disappointed. 

“You don’t have a tree, are you planning on getting a tree?” Aelin asked tertly.

Rowan slipped his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “No.”

Now it was Aelin’s turn to shake her head and then she was moving past him, muttering something under her breath. He managed to catch the words Scrooge, despicable, embarrassment and then she was gone. Curious Rowan went to inspect the box she had left behind. It contained various decorations and tinsel and just about every other kind of Yulemas decoration known to man. Rowan went to his kitchen to brew some tea to warm himself up when he heard movement outside, there was the sound of something being dragged up his steps and then a furious banging on his door. The person seemed to think better of it and opened the door themselves, and Rowan went to his entry way to see Aelin dragging in a long rectangular box.

“You are so lucky,” she panted, “that I decided to get a real tree this year.”

“You brought me a tree?” Rowan asked. 

“It is indeed what it looks like,” Aelin said, dragging her prize towards the living room. 

Rowan just stared. He still couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Well, come help.”

Her demand snapped him out of his shock and Rowan took over the job of hauling the box into the living room. Aelin didn’t waste any time getting the tree set up, passing pieces to Rowan so he could assemble it. 

“Okay, move it over there,” Aelin said, pointing to the window. 

“What’s wrong with it here?” Rowan asked. He’d put in the corner near the couch.

“Rowan,” Aelin said, her voice exasperated. “I thought we agreed that you would do whatever I saw.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Rowan replied. 

“It was very heavily implied,” she said as she inspected the space by the window. “Now, right here. This way it will light up your window beautifully. The final piece in the puzzle.”

There was no point in protesting, he knew he wouldn’t win this fight, so Rowan shifted the tree to where Aelin said. While she instructed him how to decorate the tree —lights, tinsel, and then ornaments— she asked his questions, about work, his family, did he like living in Orynth. They eventually got onto mundane things and ended up laughing and joking with each other as they decorated the tree. Rowan found himself being scolded quite often about putting a decoration in the wrong spot, he said it didn’t matter, Aelin said it most definitely did. 

When it was all done she excitedly turned the ceiling light off and the lights on the tree on. It really was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the smile on her face as she admired her work. Rowan was now very officially gone for his neighbour.

“I should go.” Aelin was moving toward the couch to pick up her coat. “Thank you for letting me intrude like this. It was fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” Rowan admitted truthfully.

Aelin came and stood in front of him, a sly smile on her face. “Are you standing there on purpose?”

“Huh?” His face was the perfect picture of confusion. Then he looked up.

He was standing right under a sprig of mistletoe Aelin must have hung at some point.

“I-uh, I didn’t see it… no,” Rowan stammered.

Aelin just rose up onto her tiptoes, Rowan frozen in place as he kissed his cheek, “Happy Yulemas, Rowan.”

She left him standing there, stunned and skin tingling from the brush of her lips. Then she was gone through his front door. He let her go, but he didn’t waste any time the next day when he knocked on her door asking her out on a date. She said yes.

~~~~~

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[fatandnerdy30]

Some Irondad g/t fluff? Pretty please 🥺

Okay....you twisted my arm. This is part one, so if you want to get updates, message me your username and I'll make sure to mention you in the future updates!

After the whole Germany fiasco, the only way for the Avengers to be safe in the world, they had to agree to be put on house arrest, only coming out when the world needed them and no other time.

A lot of the time, the team would hang out in the compound, or just spend the day in the training room, trying to keep busy. But, it was never enough. Every day they would watch the news and see all the evil in the world and want to be out in it, protecting people. No one more than Spider-Man, who was outcast to his apartment in Queens.

And as a hyper-active teenager, he was going crazy! He was banned from watching TV or working on any of his machines or projects. All he was allowed to do was go to school and come home under the watch of government officials. He was so bored!

He wasn't even allowed to call Happy, which he would gladly do if it meant he got to talk to someone! Sure he got to talk to Ned in school and text him when he was bored, but he missed his friend. So that night, he had had enough!

He got his old Spider-Man costume down from the attic space in his room and put it on. The little ankle chain was no problem. Since he wasn't able to eat as much as he needed to due to funding problems, he had lost enough weight to be able to slip it off his body no problem.

Leaving the tracker on his bed, he checked the street. There were three people watching his apartment....but, his room was in a dark spot, which made it so much easier when he had to leave in a hurry, which this was one of those cases.

So, turning off his light, he opened his window as quietly as he could, the teen slipped out into the darkness, his spidey-sense not even twinging. Peter smiled as he crawled across the roof, then let loose a web and jumped off his apartment building, feeling free for the first time in weeks.

While on the way to his best friend's place, he stopped a few muggings, not leaving any evidence he was there and getting a free twelve inch sub out of the deal, which he had devoured in seconds.

Ned's light was off and when Peter checked, his friend was sound asleep, clutching a Yoda plushie, drool covering the poor toy. He didn't want to wake his friend, so he left quickly, webbing his way towards a tall building, sitting on the edge. This was the best he'd felt in like, forever, but he still missed talking with the Avengers. He especially missed Mr. Stark.

Part of his punishment, even though he didn't do anything major, was he was not allowed to even speak to Mr. Stark or any of the Avengers, which Peter hated. He turned and saw the dark Stark Tower and felt tears come to his eyes, burning them.

"You know what? I didn't even do anything during Germany! True, I broke a couple of windows and even though I didn't exactly break the jet walkway, it had fallen on top of me during his fight with Captain America.....so, in a way it was I guess it was my fault. But, I didn't do any major damage! So it wasn't fair that I'm locked up along with the Avengers!"

He sighed and laid back, wishing he could see the stars, but Queens was too bright. You know what, even if he was caught, he was a kid. He could use that to his advantage! And he missed the Avengers, even if he had never officially met them out of his mask. So, he was going to go see them.

It was the holidays, and he had sent the presents to the compound. So, that's what he was going to do. He was going to go to the compound. But, how would he get there? It was basically in the middle of nowhere....that was a conundrum. He went to take out his phone, but he remembered he'd left it home just in case someone tracked it. He began walking along the edge of the building, swinging a leg every now and then over the edge until he got an idea.

Buses were always going everywhere in America, so he had to just find a bus that was going to LA and catch a ride on top! With excitement, he flung his webbing until he sat on top of Madison Square Garden, scaling down the dark side of the building until he got to a point where he could see the terminal and focused on the board. There was a bus leaving for Los Angeles right now!

Smiling, Peter quickly located it and shot a web, pulling himself towards the moving vehicle, landing on top of it as quietly as he could. Now, the trick was to stay warm during the ride. Peter was shivering as the bus pulled into the terminal.

Six long days, riding on the outside of a bus, during December was not a good idea. He should have thought it through, but he was determined to see Mr. Stark. So tired and very hungry, Peter shot a web and the boy took off towards the compound, feeling more lighthearted than he had in a long time. The lights were off in the building, which was perfect for Spider-Man.

Quietly he landed against one of the windows, pressing against it to see if it opened, which it did. Slowly Peter began crawling up to the ceiling when a noise caught his attention and he snapped his head up, looking down to the ground. Peter couldn't keep his eyes off Dr. Banner, who stared back at him in shock. "And who are you?" the man finally asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, um....I'm Spider-Man...." the boy stuttered. This was the actual Bruce Banner he was talking to! The man who had been his scientific idol since he discovered a beaker! "Th-this isn't what it looks like....I-I mean I know I kind of came in like a thief, but, I can explain that and.....crap."

"I should get Tony," Bruce started, but the boy's eyes widened and he ripped his mask off, brown eyes wide.

"Please don't tell Mr. Stark! He'll kill me if he finds out I'm here!" He dropped in front of the doctor, grabbing the man's white coat.

"Whoa!" Bruce cried, backing up a step. "Okay, okay, I won't tell him. Just, take a breath and try to explain, okay?"

The boy nodded and took a deep breath. "I-I'm Spider-Man, as i said...and I just missed Mr. Stark so much, I'm not allowed to call him, even though I didn't even do anything in Germany, I'm locked up with my Aunt and I just needed to get out, and I thought I would visit with Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers.....and I'm just realizing how bad of a plan this was. Am-am I in trouble?"

Bruce sighed. "I can't answer that, kid. I'm not Tony, but I will say he'll be shocked when he finds out, which he will."

Peter's face went white and he shook his head. "No, I have to leave. I'm sorry I came here, Dr. Banner. I gotta go!" He turned and suddenly his stomach rumbled loudly, making the boy blush.

"Wait," the man said as soon as the boy let a web loose from his wrist. "It's obvious you're starving and I can't let you leave like this. So have something to eat and stay the night. You can leave in the morning, OK? I would hate for a kid to go hungry and I could have prevented it."

Peter paused and nodded. "Y-yeah, yeah, you're right. Thanks Dr. Banner." He shook the web from his wrist and walked over to the table where the man had been standing....in the dark. He looked down and gasped. "Whoa! Isn't that the size-changey guy's?" He leaned in closer. It was in some kind of magnetic force field, pinned to the table by pins and clips.

"Yeah. Tony brought it back after Germany, and with being stuck here with nothing to do, I decided to study it. I know it's used to make things grow larger, but how it's done, I have no clue." Banner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna go get you something to eat. You stay here, kid, unless you want Tony to find you and punish you." The boy's body shook at that and Bruce smiled. "I'll bring you back a hot cocoa, then I think it's time you got some sleep." Peter nodded, trying to hold back a yawn, failing spectacularly. "Do no touch anything, okay? I'll be right back."

Peter stood in the middle of the lab, swinging his hands back and forth, just looking around when a flash got his attention and he turned to see something tiny moving around on Dr. Banner's table. "What is that?" he wondered out loud, then his eyes widened. It was the size-changey guy! "Hey!" he yelled, and pointed his wrists toward the little guy.

"Being here is a big no-no, especially for you, little....big guy..." He shot a web at the small man, but he dodged it, continuing to run across the table. "Whoa, you're fast! Try this!" He shot multiple webs, but the little guy dodged all of them like he knew where they were going to be. "Oh man, you're awesome! But, like I said, you're not allowed in here!" He ran towards the table, webbing a beaker on his way, about to drop it on top of the little man, when suddenly he grew to a full size man, who stood there, staring at him.

"You're Spider-Man!" he cried. "You're just a kid! I could have killed you!"

"Hey, I'm fifteen!" Peter defended. "I'm not a kid anymore! Now get out!" The man moved to the thing he'd come after, not wanting to hear Hank's lecture about his inventions landing in the wrong hands and all that.

"I will, but not without this," Scott said, grabbing the disc from the table, wincing when he passed through the magnetic field that protected it, and feeling a tingle through his whole body. He saw the boy move and he brought his thumb to his activator, when suddenly the kid jumped and landed on his back the instant he pressed the button.

Something went wrong, because suddenly, he was getting smaller, but also the weight on his back wasn't getting heavier. In fact, it stayed the same....Scott looked back and was met with the face of a scared boy, brown eyes wide as they were pulled to the ground. He let go of the button, stopping his shrink much larger than he was used to. He had to be five inches now. "Wh-what did you do!?" Peter cried.

"Don't blame me!" Scott yelled. "You're the one who jumped on me!"

At that, Peter scrambled off the man's back, staring at his arms, then lifting his head to stare at everything else. "No, no this is not cool! Change me back!" Suddenly the ground started trembling and Scott shot the kid a sad look.

"Sorry, kid, but I gotta go." He clicked his generator and grew, running towards the window just as Bruce came in, shock showing in his face as Scott ran to the open window, jumping through it, clicking his alternator as soon as he made it out, landing on his waiting mount, taking off with a sad look back at the building. He hoped the kid would be all right.

Peter was freaking out. He couldn't believe this....he'd been shrunk! He was just trying to protect Dr. Banner's lab from the Scuba suit guy, and he shrunk him! In full panic mode, Peter's hands fisted in his hair as he turned in circles, looking up with wide eyes. "No, nonononononono," he moaned.

Suddenly, a black shoe landed next to him, and Peter screamed, his senses going wild. He ran from the shoe, only to have another land on the other side of him. "Peter?" he heard Dr. Banner call his name, his voice holding a worried tone as his head swiveled, looking around. "Peter, where are you?" The volume of his voice hurt Peter's too sensitive ears and he covered them with a wince, eyes looking at everything his senses were calling a threat, which at the moment was everything.

"Doctor Banner!" Peter yelled, waving his arms. "Doctor Banner! Down here! Please, look at the floor!" The boy started jumping up and down, but the doctor never looked at him, instead, he kept looking around at all of the webbing on everything. That's when it came to Peter. He had powers. "I feel like an idiot," he grumbled, feeling his face heat up.

He was about to start running when Doctor Banner took a step, his shoe sailing over Peter's head, the ground shaking when it landed and he walked over to the table. Peter took that chance to run over to the lab table, not wanting to waste any webbing just in case, and latched on to the table leg, crawling up as fast as he could, slipping a few times from the slickness of the metal table. Finally after ten minutes of climbing, he made it to the top, panting and clinging to the metal top.

"Oh man that was scary," he said. It reminded him of the trip he took to Washington. Resting a minute, he got up and saw Dr. Banner making a face while he tried to pull the webbing off of his stuff. "This is disgusting," Bruce muttered. "Doctor Banner!" Peter cried, running over to where the blue disc had been, slipping on the metal a few times in his rush.

"Hey! Down here! Please look at the table!"

Bruce's ears picked up a voice calling him and turned, but it told him to look at the table...slowly he looked down and when he spotted the tiny human shaped thing calling his name, his eyes widened to a comical size. "Ahh!!"

Peter covered his ears at the man's scream and shrunk back from the giant man, looking up with a wince. "Not so loud," he cried, shaking his head. "It hurts my ears." Peter walked over to the doctor, stepping around the fingers that were the size of him now.

"What happened?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice lower.

"I-I don't know! I did what you asked, when suddenly, I saw the giant guy from Germany come in here. I tried to protect your lab-sorry about the webs- from him. I tried to stop him, but he took the blue disc, and I jumped on his back, when suddenly a shock went through me and when he shrunk, so did I! And then, he left me like this!" Peter raised his hands, letting them fall to his sides, tears burning his eyes. "Y-you're a doctor, right? Can you fix me? Please tell me you can..I don't want to stay like this!"

"Calm down, kid....take a deep breath, you'll be fine. It may take a while, but I will find a way to fix you. But, for now, I think we should let Tony know."

At that Peter's eyes went wide and he started shaking his head so fast he got dizzy. "No! Please don't tell Mr. Stark! He'll find out I snuck out and probably punish me by sticking me in a box for the entire time I have to be here!"

Bruce chuckled. "Don't over-exaggerate. Tony's an understanding guy, so I'm sure if you pour on the cute act and tell him you missed him so much you had to sneak out to see him, he might forgive you." Banner started to reach for the boy. "Now, let's go explain things to Tony."

Peter watched the giant hand come at him and screamed, his body reacting before his mind could. He grabbed the overly large fingers as soon as they tried wrapping around his body and he heard the doctor let out a yell, and Peter opened his eyes just in time to see the man go flying over the counter, landing on his back with a loud wheeze.

"Holy shit!" the boy cried, running to the edge of the table. "Doctor Banner, a-are you alright?! I'm so sorry, I don't even know what happened!" Bruce stared up at the tiny face staring down at him, trying to get air back in his lungs.

"It's okay," he puffed and rolled to his front, shaking his head. "Just, tell me, what was that?" Peter took a step back when the man grabbed the table by him, shaking it.

"I-I just felt I was in danger, and my senses have been going haywire since this happened, and I reacted....I did whatever I do to things that are a threat to me...I threw it."

Banner smiled at the kid, seeing his tiny face go red. "Well, now we know not to grab you. Just know, I won't hurt you."

"I know, but right now, everything feels like a threat! Everything is so big, Doctor Banner.." Peter sniffled and wiped his nose on his suit. "I-I'm scared.."

The man sent a sympathetic look to the boy. "I know, but we'll get this taken care of. I promise, okay? Now, let's try this again." Bruce got to his feet and slowly lowered his hand to the table, flattening it out. "Take your time."

Peter just stared at the large palm before him. He was shaking, but that was thanks to his senses. He knew Doctor Banner would never hurt him, in his current form, anyway. He heard too many stories about how gentle the man was when he wasn't angry, and from those stories alone, Peter trusted him.

So, he took a step, then another, until he was stepping into the man's hand. It felt squishy yet firm under his feet. "Whoa! I can fell your heartbeat!" he called up to the doctor, missing the smile he got. "And your muscles keep twitching everywhere I step." He wanted to try something. He took a leap and landed on the other side of the doctor's hand, falling on his face when the muscle he landed on jumped and tripped him.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked, feeling the odd sensation of the boy on his hand.

"Yeah...sorry about that, just an experiment." Peter settled on the man's hand, sitting facing the now giant doctor. "Do..do we have to tell Mr. Stark tonight?" he asked nervously.

"I think that would be best, kid....If he finds out in the morning, he'll be even angrier knowing you've been here all night. Speaking of, why hasn't Friday spoken?"

Peter brought a hand to his neck. "That's my fault....I asked her, if I ever came again, not to tell anyone..."

The doctor shook his head. "Tony's not going to like that."

"What won't I like?"

[jupiterswlrd]

Spectacular- mark lee

mark never intended on getting bit by a spider on his was home in the subway, he also never intended on saving you from falling in front of the moving train car either. it was all just some sort of sick coincidence. mark had never believed in super powers, yeah what he saw on TV and comics book was cool but it was never realistic. ‘someone just can’t magically change over night’ he thought to himself all the time.

that was, until it happened to him. after his little run in with you he went home and took a nap, shook up a bit on how well his grip on your jacket was, almost like his hands were stuck to you. ‘crazy...’ he chuckled drifting off to sleep. when he woke up his found his upper part of he bunk covered in spider webs.

“ew” he said quietly trying not to wake his roommate haechan up. ‘maybe if hyuck would be a cleaner we wouldn’t have this issue’ mark struggled to sit up something making him stick to his bed. he flopped all around his bed, webs confining his arms to the bed. he finally broke one and somehow tripped off of his bunk. he prepared for his body to hit the ground but something caught him. a string of webs wrapped around his ankle and attached the top bunk. he was confused, but he was mostly relieved. “mark?....” haechan opened his eyes wondering why he saw his roommate dangling from what seemed to be the ceiling. with that the web snapped causing mark to fall on his head.

“dude...” haechan observed mark like he was some foreign species. “did you do that?” he pointed to the the webs covering marks bunk. “n-no!?!?” mark looked at the younger boy like he was out of his mind “do i look like a spider to you?” haechan stared at him for a long minute. “...there’s a fucking web growing out of your wrist right now....”

“HUH?” mark flung his hand somewhere, flinching in a way. haechan grunted loudly his head banging aganist the wall. his body was taped to the wall with one big web. “MARK” he yelled in amazement and extreme pain and discomfort. “I promise i didn’t do that....” mark didn’t know what to do with his hands, he stuck them in the pockets of his shorts fearing himself and what he’d do. haechan eventually broke free, examining the web pattern closely. He had a thing for spiders.

“this is completely unique...your webs have a little M in them. we should take to these y/n, you know shes a science freak” mark completely shut down at the thought of you seeing him shoot webs out of hands. what if you thought he was some kind of freak? “THATS NOT AN OPTIO-“ then you walked into their dorm room, unannounced and unwarranted. “i heard my name from outside the hallway, why are you all so l—“ you were confused to see that mark was no where to be found. “uhhh?? i thought i heard marks voice”

“you di—“ haechan did a double take “oh haha, yeah we were on the phone he’s in the bathroom— he got stuck in the toilet”

haechan shoved you out the room nervously. “yeah so y/n, we’ll see you in class okay?” once you were successfully pushed out the room, mark was sitting with his legs crossed his head in his hands. “bro what the fuck was that?” haechan slammed the door and locked it. “what was what?”

“i don’t know your little disappearing ac— YOU CAN TURN INVISIBLE”

“haechan are you on drugs? you have to be on drugs only people with POWERS can do that and that’s not possible be—“

haechan clamped a hand over marks mouth.

“dude you’ve done the impossible for like 2 hours now, you have powers” the younger boy slid on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. “where are you going?” mark asked laying back down. “you mean where are WE going” he threw marks slides at his head.

“we’re gonna go see what you can do.”

mark and haechan went out to a abandoned parking lot. haechan was good at making something out of nothing figuratively and quite literally. “okay mark pick up that big ass tire over there” mark walked over to it, absentmindedly picking it up “this one?”

haechan pulled a clipboard out his backpack “okay superstrength...check”

after many trials and errors. mark and donghyuck found out that he was very agile, very fast, and very sticky. mark couldn’t go 3 seconds with out sticking to something.

as mark and haechan were walking back to the dorms, mark heard something his ears turned up as he looked around. “do you hear that?” mark pulled his hoodie up and walked a bit faster. “no what do you hear? is everything oka—“ mark took off running in the opposite direction past the parking lot, leaving his backpack and a confused Lee Donghyuck behind him.

mark turned the corner the feeling that was rushing through his body, it was more than adrenaline it was like an itch that so desperately needed to be scratched. he had to find out what that noise was. he found himself in the subway again. the same place his was now 24 hours ago. his head was now spinning the same place he was bitten now stinging more than ever.

his balance was off and his body felt weak. mark blinked harshly, the itch slowly fading away. but everything was fading away he slipped into darkness, passing out on the grimy new york subway floor.

“mark” a familiar voice called out to him. “yes y/n?” he responded, a swirl of neon colors surrounded him, his skin was no longer slightly tan it was neon red with some swirls of blue. he was still in the subway but it was empty. dead silent his own thoughts, and spiders the only things in the station. you were in the form a beautiful pink tarantula crawling all over marks body.

“you know what you have to do right?”

“what do i have to do?”

“save new york” you brushed against his cheek lovingly “save our friends, save me, and most of all” you had somehow reappeared in front of him crawling down from her own line of webs. “save yourself.”

“how do i do that?”

“22nd street my love”

mark heard that laugh he always loved to hear, then a sharp pain in his arm again.

“FUCK” he yelled when he woke up, surprised to see that it wasn’t the “pink tarantula” that hit him, but an IV going into the underside of his wrist.

“calm down mr.lee it’s okay, you had quite a scare there” a nurse rubbed his forehead “anything i can get you? some water? some juice you had a pretty bad panic attack there”

mark sighed

‘how am i supposed to save new york with anxiety?’

☀︎☂︎☀︎☂︎

“hyuck” mark said as they walked home from the hospital. “yeah?” he responded taking one of his headphones out his ear. “have you ever been to 22nd street?” haechan shrugged “yeah i’ve been by there, it’s nothing but some apartments...why?”

“i think we have to go there”

that piqued haechan interest, not in a good way though. “you’re not tired i mean...i know you have super stamina but you just had such a bad anxiety attack you passed out” he blinked “i don’t see how you’re not exhausted, fuck— even IM exhausted” mark shrugged and walked in the other direction in hopes to catch a bus, “you coming?”

“so am i like your agent or something” haechan said smacking on the lunchable from his backpack loudly, so loud that mark couldn’t even hear himself think. between the homeless people, the bucket drum line, haechan obnoxious chewing, mark couldn’t hear himself think. “OKAY JUST SHUT UP” he snapped, all attention on him. “oh— uh not you guys i—“ mark quickly became flustered looking at haechan for some help. “OH— uhhh, my friend here has a disorder. sorry about that” haechan rubbed mark on the back, watching as heads turned back to what the were doing. “thank god” mark sighed in relief as they reached their stop. “i feel something...” the same ringing in his ears was back, becoming quieter as he walked in different directions dragging haechan in zigzags along with him

finally, mark and haechan arrived at their “destination”. all it appeared to be was just a regular apartment building. “what the fuck?” mark huffed slamming his fists aganist the wall, accidentally triggering something.

the small alley way they were in between revealed a door, the two boys looked at each other in pure amazement as they jumped through. “what is this?” mark said in awe staring down the walls. “don’t touch anything” an older man said swatting his hand away “you’re the new guy?” he looked mark up and down “the standards must be in hell”

“hi nice to meet you too!” mark sarcastically said. “i didn’t ask.” the man simply replied. “follow me though.” the boys did as they were told. “i believe that we were all put on this earth for one reason, to wreck havoc and help when havoc wrecks things” the older man laughed at his own terrible joke. “that’s why some people their genetic code is different, they’re products of some very expensive experiments, and my favorite” he chuckled “wrong place right time”

“so where do i fall?” mark wondered out loud. “the third one sweetheart” the older man bent down into a mini fridge and got out something to drink. “so basically what i’m saying kid.” he slurped it loudly in marks ears “help when havoc wrecks, whenever it does”with the snap of fingers, haechan and mark were back home and mark was dressed in a red and blue spandax suit. a black spider embroidered on the chest. “bro? you look—“ mark raised a brow, thinking he was still in his regular clothes. “you look like an actual superhero!” haechan danced around the room. “i do?” he stepped infront of the mirror “oh— I DO”

“what should i call myself. tarantula boy?—no too weird spider boy? no too immature”

“spider-man” haechan suggested

“spider-man...” mark said to himself in the mirror.

“i guess i’m spider man...”