#it really captures the eerieness

[liquidstar]

pandora is meant to have this like eerily calm look in her eyes, along with an uncanny smile and overall ghostly appearance. to carry herself in this sort of above-it-all (you know, vain) demeanor. like she always has a handle on every situation, she never has to worry about anything because she's the witch of vanity. but in a somber and quiet way, her glare is very subdued and distant- its hard to grasp. she knows things we dont.

but actually she just looks high as hell

she just ate an edible she got from a guy behind fantasy 7/11 and it gave her reality warping powers. shes so fucking up there right now you have no idea.

[journeytodrawiii]

I made a painting last weekend. I didn't really have an idea going in and I really kind of veered off from my reference, but I made this because I felt I needed to. I needed to make... something, and this happened to be that thing. Life has been a lot recently and I can feel myself backsliding into who I was a couple of years ago, when I was at my worst. But making things helps, even if just for a moment. I will not let myself fall back into old patterns. I don't know what I'm going to do with this painting, I don't even know what to call it. It's not my best, but it's still mine. I think I can feel okay about that. Anyway, hope y'all like the art, sorry for the dump.

[theunemployedrogue]

Livin that Bartleby the Scrivener life 🙃

[risuola]

ENTRY #15 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I love the way you kiss me.

contents: arranged marriage!au, tooth-rotting fluff, kisses (duh) — wc. 994

a/n: i just can't help myself, i love fluff with this man

series masterlist

Satoru loves morning kisses.

Your lips like a warm ray of sun graze the skin of his cheek, a feather-like brush that makes his heart do backflips in his chest. You’re a bliss that coats his years-troubled soul in honey, you’re sweet on his tongue. You’re his favorite taste, his most beloved candy, you’re all he’s ever wanted and had no idea he needed. Your kisses are soothing, they are a melody he wants on repeat, they are the kick of power that gets him going every day.

He’s convinced you do magic — he feels the sparkles bubbling in his skin whenever your lips press to his cheek or forehead. Shivers run down his spine when he feels your nose against the side of his neck. And it’s so innocent. You’re like an angel that’s taken him under your wing, you gave him hope and he wants to worship you. He wants to thank you for changing the life he’s deemed meaningless years and years ago. You brought light into his darkness and showed him the way when he was lost.

You kiss him quickly and he thinks that you can’t tell how much it means to him. You kiss him so naturally, as if you truly love him and sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever be able to earn all the feeling you offered him. It’s a peck, nothing more, but it’s enough for his heart to swell in his chest, bloom like a flower that he wishes to give you. And then, you’re going about your day, making breakfast or coffee, brewing tea and pouring honey and he tries to help you, show you how much he cares, how much he loves you. He’s stealing touches — soft brushes of your arms, little bumps of your hips against his, the gentle nudges and swipes whenever you reach for the same thing or pass next to each other. Yeah, he cherishes all of those and sometimes he earns himself another kiss from you. Sometimes you press your lips against him again and if he’s really lucky, you’d kiss his lips. Then you’re chuckling, patting his chest and swatting him away because once he gets you in his arms, he’s not willing to let go.

The way your body melts in his arms is enough of a reason to kiss you more. He likes to trap you against the kitchen counter, to sit you up on the table or pull you onto his lap. His long arms wrap around you, he wants to feel your heartbeat, he wants to feel you squirm in his grasp and vibrate when you purr or giggle. When he’s feeling particularly needy (everyday), he’s having you wrapped around his waist, your delicious thighs hooked onto his hips and his hands comfortable on your butt as he gets lost in the sensation of your tongue. And then you’re tugging his hair and biting his lip, telling him that the tea is getting cold and the food is drying out and he couldn’t care less when he lounges forward once more, capturing you in another searing kiss.

Then, Satoru is late for work and you barely make it on time. You apologize and he’s sheepish about it. Satoru loves his morning kisses.

And he loves the late-night ones too.

The ones when both of you are after work, not caring about the world anymore and focusing on the warmth. He’d have you close to his chest, on the couch. His mouth works lazily against yours, slow and sensual as the tv hums in the background — yet another episode of the series that none of you follow enough to know what’s going on in the plot. It’s dark outside and in the room, the screen casts an eerie glow on you and him as he keeps you in his arms and he doesn’t rush it.

You’d have your forehead against his, your noses brushing back and forth and he loves the subtle intimacy it brings. Your dainty fingers dance along his nape, nails brush through his undercut teasing his sensitive skin. You talk quietly, murmuring little stories about how the day went — all between the soft pecks and passionate kisses. And he’d tell you he loves you; his mouth moves on his own as his breath carries the words, delivering them straight from his heart and into your skin — he wants to engrave them onto you, he wants you to know that he cherishes you more than he’s capable of showing. That he loves you more than he’d ever be able to put in words and then, he’d thank you for saying it back because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. You think he’s cute and assure him that he is more than enough, kissing him to prove your point.

He loves the late-night kisses. The ones when you’re in bed with him, your faces millimeters away as he admires your beauty in silence. You’re sleepy and don’t talk much anymore but he devotes his last moments of consciousness to take you in. His palm cradles your cheek and his thumb runs over your lid and down the bridge of your nose until it reaches the ups of your lips and he stops there. He feels the softness of your lower lip underneath the pad of his finger, he makes your mouth part slightly and feels the warm breath escaping them.

He brings his lips towards yours and a soft purr rumble in your chest — the kiss is gentle, just barely a touch but he’s content with it. It’s warm and plush, lips brushing against each other in the feather-like dance. There’s no tongue or teeth, there’s no rush or urgency. It’s a silent goodnight and he feels the sleep slowly taking him away. Satoru moves higher, kissing the tip of your nose and your forehead and you use your last movements to nuzzle into his neck as he nuzzles into your hair.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe @fortunatelyfurrygiver @lolita-h @sweetpo1son @myahfig4 @zurakoofgintama

[mandarinmoons]

Hii. if you’re still taking request, i have a request for your littérateur-ness :)

I don’t know if you write for BAU!reader or explicitly reader x Spencer but I was thinking about the team working a case in a haunted town. Spooky, unexplainable incidents happen (doors open, shadows appear), their hotel rooms are haunted (which maybe causes some room sharing ifykyk), instigators freak out the others and skeptics try to defend incidents. Penelope goes out and buys sage, Reid freaks out reader, Derek sleeps out in the SUV because he’s not super excited about the ghosts. 

I love this omg

The steps of the hotel creaked as you walked up them and the wood seemed so worn that you tried your best to convince yourself that you wouldn’t fall through them.

“C’mon now everyone, let’s go check in,” Rossi announced as he walked towards the reception and everyone followed suit, but no one listened to David's and the hotel workers chatter as they all took in the building just walked into.

The air felt unusual to say the least. You could feel yourself being watched and if you focused hard enough swore that you felt a hand on your shoulder, but when you turned around there was no one behind you, it must’ve been the exhaustion.

Receiving the key to your room, you took off to finally get a change of clothes and relax in a soft bed. As you walked through the halls you felt unusual cold spots here and there, thinking that it was due to the hotel being old and not having the best insulation, you brushed it off and headed to your room.

As the night moved on you swore you heard little tapping sounds, on the walls, on the windows, anywhere you could think of.

Nearly falling asleep you heard a knock on your door, you jumped at the sudden sound and made your way to open it, seeing Spencer on the other side.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Spencer looked tense. He was clutching a pillow to his chest and his brows were knitted in worry.

“Can I stay with you for the night? I keep feeling like there’s someone watching me in my room.”

“Well, I don't know if I’ll be much help because I keep experiencing the same thing.”

“It seems like everyone is.”

“What do you mean?”

Spencer walked in and sat on the edge of the bed as he tried to find the words for the occurrences he’d faced tonight.

“Morgan kept saying he felt like he was being watched. He also said that he kept hearing furniture being moved when he was in the shower. He got so freaked out that he ended up going to the car to sleep.”

“What? Really?”

Spencer nodded and continued, “Penelope even went to town to buy some sage to “cleanse the air”, but I doubt it’ll help.”

Chuckling, you made your way to the bed and sat next to Spencer. Even if he was one of the most logical people you had ever met, you were a bit amused seeing him visibly shaken over these encounters.

“Are you afraid of a few ghosts?”

Spencer snorted, but still hugged the pillow close to him, “There’s no scientific evidence that ghosts are real.”

“Yeah? And you’re over here shaking like a leaf.”

“Oh, like you aren’t affected by this?”

“Okay okay, fine. I admit, it’s been a bit eerie here.”

“So, can I stay here?”

“Would it make you feel better?”

Spencer nodded and you rolled your way to the side of the bed, patting the open spot, a way of saying he could stay.

Crawling over to you, Spencer put his pillow down and laid down with his face towards you, his eyes capturing yours.

After a moment of silence you closed your eyes and soon enough both of you fell asleep.

What felt like only 15 minutes of sleep, you were shaken awake by Spencer, his voice shaky and on edge.

“Y/N, Y/N!”

“Spencer, what’s wrong?!”

“I heard knocking.”

Walking over to the door carefully, you opened it and were met with Penelope, holding a box of incense in her hands.

“I have come to cleanse your room my dears” Penelope walked past you and lit one of the sticks, airing it around the room.

“Is this even allowed?”

“I checked with the staff, apparently even they themselves do this every few weeks in hopes it’ll slow down activity.”

“Unbelievable.”

“It’s true, ask them yourselves if you must.”

Being cut off by Spencer’s coughing, he stood up and opened the window to clear the air.

“Wait, boy genius, what’re you doing here?”

“I uh, I heard some noises in my room and didn’t want to be alone.”

“Aww, being with Y/N makes you feel safe?”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean-”

Penelope chuckled over Spencer’s sputtering which only made you crack a smile. Knowing that Spencer felt safe in your presence tugged at your heart in ways you never thought was possible.

After a good half an hour and the smell of the incense permeating the air, Penelope left you and Spencer to rest. Sleep was the last thing on both of your minds though as you both were up until nearly 3 AM, talking about the possibilities of why all of these events took place.

“What about the tapping on the walls?”

“It could be mice.”

“Ew, don’t say that.”

“I’m just stating the most possible explanation!”

“Just say it’s ghosts and go to sleep.”

“As I stated before, there is no-”

Before Spencer managed to finish his sentence, a sudden crash was heard outside the room, which caused Spencer to jump into your embrace, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“Spencer, I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry…”

A second later you heard a hotel employee call out, apologizing for his cleaning cart dropping on the floor. A sigh of relief came out of both of you and then you felt your cheeks heat up, realizing what position the two of you were in.

“Oh sorry, I should um,” Spencer moved to slide his arm off of you, but before he could move any more, you rested your hand on top of his.

“It’s okay, I like it.”

Blinking his eyes rapidly, Spencer laid his head down and looked over at you for a moment before mumbling a “good night” and closing his eyes.

You kept looking at Spencer’s face for a moment, seeing his face relax as sleep took over and he was finally able to rest. As much as you hated all of the weird occurrences that happened throughout the night, you couldn’t lie and say that you were annoyed with Spencer coming over to stay the night with you, because you weren’t, you were delighted by it.

You shut your eyes and your thumb ran over the back of Spencer’s hand, which was met by Spencer pulling you slightly closer in his sleep, his breath fanning over your face. You were just close enough to rest your head in the crook of his neck and you secretly hoped that there would be another bump in the night, so that he’d pull you closer into him and you’d get to live out your secret wish.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[green-swan]

cigarette or zoot? (pt. 1) | joost klein x f1! driver (fem!reader)

in which london and smoking are synonymous with meeting a cute dutch artist

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when AVROTROS approached her about eurovision, she thought they made a mistake. max was dutch. she wasn't. her lithuanian roots were deeper than any other identity she could've carved for herself. in the end she agreed; going in their cars with max around the city of malmö, visiting a few eurovision parties and most importantly, interact with joost klein (whom she didn't know, mind you) and teach him how to use an F1 simulator. this was going to be a heavy week. thank god it was in a month, right now she had a race to win.

first came the party - london was a welcome destination for the young driver. she thrived under the busy nature of it even in what some would call late, and others early, hours. she couldn't say the same for crowds though, the moving mosh of strangers all too close to each other and trying to show their superiority (the latter was aimed at men to be fair). she did see silvester, and the two had a lengthy conversation that didn't come to a conclusion but rather stayed at "what the fuck, let's make lithuania internationally famous!" she had hoped for a good place in eurovision, if not victory, while silvester (silvestras sounded more like home) had voiced his wish for her to win the upcoming miami grand prix and not only become the first female to do so, but also the first from lithuania. the pressure was on.

unfortunately, she lost silvester after getting a drink, so what really was the point of staying in the now airless room? she grabbed her drink and went to the rooftop that really should've been closed. her short frame slumped against a railing and she lit a cigarette, making it a point to hold it between her thumb and index finger. it was quiet, and london shimmered in different shades of yellow and white. so many people, some praying, some arguing, some alone. it felt peaceful despite the harsh wind that threatened to put out her cigarette.

"cigarette or zoot?" an accented voice sounded out, breaking the howls of wind. she turned around, spotting a man in what would've been a formal outfit had it not been for the pyramid-shaped shoulder pads on his blazer. joost klein, the man she was meant to interact with in front of cameras later that month. "cigarette," she answered, "though they call them something else here," she finished with an unsure smile. "i thought we couldn't bring tobacco in here?" he questioned, with a miscievous undertone in his voice. "they didn't check me, so it's on them," the driver shrugged, "why? you want one?"

"god, yes please!"

she took out another one from her pack, put it in between her glossed lips (joost thought that the gloss suited her) and lit it before giving it to the dutch man. "you know, i once tried eating a cigarette," he started, earning an incredulous look from the shorter girl. "what? did it taste good?" her curiosity was cute, "what do you think?"

"i once nearly swallowed jet fuel," she said with sympathy, "i get it."

joost knew who she was, well vaguely. the only female formula 1 driver and the only lithuanian on the grid. so why did AVROTROS want him to interact with her in addition to her dutch teammate? by that point, the wind had calmed down, an eery silence on brink of errupting had it not been for the music blasting from downstairs. she hummed a few lyrics before he spoke up, startling her heart as if she'd forgotten that he was indeed still there.

"can i take a picture of you right now?"

"why?"

"you're pretty. you look really beautiful in this moment, and i want to capture it."

she thought for a moment. "okay, if you let me take one of you after." he smiled. (he was so going to convince her to be on the cover of his next album)

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note: jumping on the joost klein bandwagon (hehe been a fan for a while! got tickets for his europapa tour so i've been riding on cloud 9). i also love formula 1 and so thought why not combine them?

as the first paragraph indicates there will be (probably short and sweet) chapters and maybe extra ones after if this goes well <3

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [4/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3370

Summary: Aemond ventures beyond the Wall.

“Your hair looks nicer when it’s braided now.”

It seemed that the she-wildling could not keep her mouth shut. Rolling his eyes, Aemond changed the subject quickly, “How long ‘til we reach your people’s camp?” Aemond asked. “Just keep the horse in a steady pace up ahead and we’ll reach them in no time,” she answered him whilst comfortably sitting in front of him, between his arms that held the reins of the stallion. The reins were relaxed, and the stallion responded effortlessly to his light guidance through the cold and dark forest. The forest stands in eerie silence, its dense canopy casting a perpetual twilight over the twisted, gnarled trees. Shadows dance menacingly across the forest floor, where fallen leaves and branches lie in disarray, as if disturbed by some unseen force. The trees themselves seem alive, their bark scarred and contorted into grotesque shapes, carrying with it the faintest whisper of forgotten secrets, and the occasional creak or groan of the wood echoes through the stillness, adding to the sense of foreboding. 

No wonder they call this the haunted forest. 

“What lies in these woods?” Aemond asked once again. “Wild animals, mostly. But we don’t really hunt at night. It's a bad omen,” she replied. “Sometimes we see them at night, that’s where they emerge.” Her words made Aemond wonder, “Who do you speak of?”

“What do you think the walls were made for?”

Aemond thought for a moment. 

“To keep your kind away from entering the realm,” he said, hesitantly. Not quite confident with his answer. For he knew that the wall’s purpose was more than just keeping a few wildlings out of Westeros but, he does not know what. “It wasn’t even built because of us. My people were separated from yours because we were unlucky enough to live beyond the wall when it was built,” she explained. “It was the others that they were afraid of.”

“Others? Other tribes?”

“No. The undead.”

Chills ran down from Aemond’s spine.

The White Walkers. 

He has read countless books about the white walkers and the long night. How the battle for the dawn unfolded, yet all he knew was that it was all a myth. A fairytale. Stories to scare your child so they would sleep for the night. He recalled how the White Walkers were first written and mentioned during the Age of Heroes. Born of powerful and untested magic, they were created to protect the Children of the Forest during their war with the First Men. What once used to be puppets and soldiers for the Children of the Forest, the magic within the white walkers took a turn and rebelled against their creators and brought nothing but destruction to the realm. 

“But they were nothing but old stories. Fiction, even,” Aemond protested. 

“They are far from fiction, snow-hair.” 

The wildling looked back to him, surprisingly close since they were cramped at horseback. 

“What did they call you back there? I couldn’t recall. Was it Almond?”

“Aemond,” he grunts. 

She chuckled, “I like snow-hair better.”

“And what of you?” Slowly speaking her name which seemed foreign to his tongue. 

“Close enough,” she shrugged with a smirk, looking back into the road. Aemond wondered once again of the undead she mentioned. Were they lurking behind the old trees of this very forest? Were their lives at stake when they stepped their foot to this forest. “They took my brother,” she said, capturing Aemond’s attention. “The undead?” She nodded at his question. “He seemed to forget about time that day. But what kind of child remembers time, really? They wanted to play all day. So he did, running inside the woods without me or my mother’s attention, wanting to become a great hunter who enters the forest with no fear like my father. And he never came back.” 

He felt sorry for the girl, for he himself had felt the same kind of grief when he heard of Aegon’s death. Especially when they could’ve done something to prevent their deaths. “Sometimes I wonder if they buried him at all. If they did, I wonder where they buried him,” she said, spacing off into the distance. “There is no sympathy from the dead. Nor do they care for the living,” he said to her. “I know. But I’d like to think they did. He was just a child.” 

The whole ride quickly became gloomy and sour as the pair battled their grief as bad memories and remorse overcome their thoughts. “Does that stop you from hunting in the forest?” Aemond asked, trying to bring peace to her. “No, not really. I think I became eager to hunt here. Maybe one day I can find him well and just…cleverly hiding between trees,” she said with a bitter chuckle, sensing her denial of her brother’s disappearance. A sense of protectiveness washed over Aemond, knowing what it felt like to see light in the midst of darkness. Denying the truth to comfort yourself. He knew of that feeling. 

“Maybe one day you would. One day.”

Crack. Swish. 

“What was that?” 

Crack. Crack. Crack. 

“A wild beast?” Aemond asked. 

A figure emerging slowly behind the tree as they pass. “That is no beast,” the wildling alarmingly said, taking over the reins and snapped it making their horse gallop through the dark forest. “I would’ve preferred it to be a wild beast so we can take it home, yet you and I know that is no beast, snow hair,” she spoke as the harsh winds of the north hits their faces. Aemond looked back, seeing two..three...four figures catching up onto them. 

“How do we escape them?” He asked. 

“Hold on tight.” 

She took a turn in a swift motion, galloping off the road going between trees. In hopes for them to stop gaining on them. The wildling kept snapping the reins ordering the horse to go faster with only the moon being their source of light. “C’mon…c’mon…,” he heard her grunting as she took a glance behind and saw some still following their tracks. Galloping between trees, their horse finally took them to safety at the edge of the forest, to a clear opening. 

Making Aemond have a clear vision of the undead. 

Their skins were pale, almost blue. 

They look like humans yet they were not at the same time. 

The creatures frightened him more than anything else, but as they neared the edge of the forest, the White Walkers ceased their pursuit and vanished behind the trees. Aemond exhaled deeply, relieved that they had escaped the forest unharmed. Suddenly the horse neighed, abruptly stopping. Making both of them grunt in pain when they nearly fell. “What’s wrong?” The wildling asked the horse before an arrow striked a tree behind them. They looked around, trying to find any signs of life. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond hissed when she stepped down from the horse. “Where’s my dagger?” She whispered, ignoring his previous question. Aemond sighed, tossing her the dagger beneath his black cloak. Catching it with ease, she spoke into the air,

“It’s only me! Gruff? Yuri?” Aemond was curious about those people she called out. Were they one of her people? Who were they?

“Blimey kid, you scared the shit out of us!” 

A loud booming voice suddenly said, emerging from the snowy ecosystem. Their thick fur coats also seemed to be efficient for camouflage. Aemond saw how his peculiar she wildling smiled brightly when she spotted her friend, running towards the tall red haired man giving him a tight hug making them both laugh as he picked her up in his arms. 

Aemond rolled his eye.

“Thought you were gone for! We saw those creepy dead people- thank the gods!” The red haired wildling said, ruffling her hair. “Oww! No! Do you think that low of me, old man?!” She asked with a laugh, shoving the man away from her. “Oi, I'm not that old, young lady.” Locking her head once again with his arm. “Yuri! Look who just came back from the dead!” The red haired shouted, now another wildling emerged from the opening. His hair was blonde, almost as light as the hair of the Lannisters. “We really thought you were dead, kid,” Yuri said, patting her shoulder. 

Who were they? Why were they awfully close with her? 

From what he witnessed, a young woman could only interact like this with the opposite gender if they were siblings or wedded. Even he never saw any of his wedded acquaintances interacting this way. Were they her siblings? They don’t seem to resemble one another, were they bastards? Did they came from different mothers?

Aemond cleared his throat, stepping down from his horse, interrupting their reunion. 

“Ah yes- Gruff, Yuri, this is ehm..Aemond Targaryen. The man that I spoke of to the both of you,” she said. The red haired, who was named Gruff looked Aemond from head to toe. “Gruff and Yuri are my hunting friends. We’ve been hunting together since we were children and fun fact, we have the same grandsire.”

Gruff slowly approached the one eyed prine, keeping an eye on him. Aemond straightened his back to appear taller, gripping the handle of his sword, preparing himself. Once Gruff stopped in front of him, their noses bumping into each other, he spoke, 

“Did your mum fucked a snowman?”

“I beg your pardon–,” Aemond stepped closer, ready to draw his sword out.

“–Alright that’s enough!” She quickly stepped between the two men. “What Gruff was trying to say was, how is your hair silver?” She asked. "My father, my grandsire, my great-grandsire—all of them had silver hair," Aemond hissed, his gaze fixed on the red-haired wildling. "How did they end up with silver hair?" the red-haired wildling asked, crossing his arms. Aemond couldn't believe how absurd this conversation had become. Frustrated, he let his hands drop. "We're from old Valyria," Aemond explained with resignation. "It's simply a trait we have—silver hair is just part of who we are."

“Valyria? What’s that?” The blonde wildling asked curiously. “It's a place far from the north, Yuri– Now come on! We must bring him to the Chief.” Walking past them, she held the horse’s reins and started walking ahead. Gruff purposely bumped Aemond’s shoulder as he passed through the one eyed prince. Aemond rolled his eyes again, resigned to the childish behavior of these people, before catching up and walking alongside her. Compared to the two wildlings, he found her more tolerable. At least she didn’t ask pointless questions.s. “I have told our Chief about you,” she said. “I am sure he will take it easy on you,” she said.

 “Does he takes it easy with anyone else?”

“No, not really. He’s quite rude if you ask me.”

“As rude as your friend there?” Aemond chuckled bitterly.

“You’re in for a ride,” she chuckled, patting Aemond’s shoulder. 

As much as Aemond would like to worry, he could not as he knew that she was the one who brought him to her people. For her people needed him, not the other way around. He hoped that this agreement would be the means for her to fulfill her promise and return him to Westeros once and for all. Additionally, he couldn’t help but notice her diminutive stature compared to his own—she barely reached his shoulder, smaller than any lady from Westeros yet possessing a fierceness and demeanor that defied conventional femininity. A smirk tugged at his lips.. 

And there he saw it. In the vast expanse of snow-covered terrain, a tribe lives a nomadic life, their existence marked by resilience and adaptability. Their tents, typically made of sturdy animal hides or woven materials, scattered across the field. The tents are insulated with layers of fur and cloth, designed to withstand the biting cold. The camp itself is a lively hub of activity despite the harsh environment. Smoke curls up from several central hearths, where fires are kept burning to provide warmth and to cook meals. The scent of roasting meat and simmering stews mingled with the crisp, cold air when he stepped closer to them.

Like when he first entered Winterfell, all eyes fell upon him, following him as he walked side by side with her. “It seems you have captured the people’s attention,” she teased with a cocky smile. “Why is it because of my hair or my eye?” He asked. “Neither. It’s your attire.” Aemond looked down to his clothing. Of course, he’s still dressed like a member of the night’s watch.

“We hate the crows in here, so it’s better for you to strip those clothes after you meet our Chief,” she said, giving him a wink. Before he could protest, a snow hit his cloak, making him flinch. Turning around, he saw a couple of children running around, even snickering at his presence. “Careful now boys!” She chuckled, greeting some of those children. “Never seen a crow, huh?” She crouched down, talking to the children surrounding her. 

“He only has one eye!” One of the children tried to whisper to her. “Scary, isn’t he? Tell you what, I’ll let you pick on him when I’m not around,” she said to the kids, making them snicker and giggle in excitement. 

She was really good with children. 

Throughout his life, he rarely sees his mother or even his sister being this natural with children. It makes him wonder if she has one. 

“For the meantime, can all of you keep an eye on our horse?” Offering the rein to the children, in which they eagerly accepted before taking the horse away. Aemond curiously kept his eye on the horse as the children led it away. “Don’t worry, they are very gentle with horses. They know their purpose,” she reassured him before she started to walk once more. 

Approaching one of the biggest tents in the area, the spearwife stops beside him, “If the Chief likes you, you’ll live another day.” Before smiling mischievously stepping inside the tent. Slightly on edge, he hesitated to follow them inside. But he would not cower in fear and enter anyways. Reminding himself to keep himself in check if he wants to go home. He stepped inside, his eye falling onto a man sitting in his chair as his companions surrounded him, whispering to each other. 

“Chief, I would like you to meet the crow I spoke of. This is Aemond Targaryen,” she introduced him. Aemond nodded with respect to their chief, an older wildling who carefully inspected Aemond, standing up from his seat. “Targaryen,” he said. “A peculiar tribe. Was it true that your family had power over dragons?” The Chief asked in which Aemond instantly nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”

All of them chuckled humorously. 

“Lord? I’m flattered to be called a Lord,” the chief said in humour. 

“So, where is your dragon now?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Aemond spoke. 

“She was killed at war.” A sense of bitterness, trying to mask his grief and sadness for Vhagar’s death. 

“A shame,” the Chief said. 

A pregnant pause.

“I want everybody out of this tent.” Aemond’s eyes widened. Was he going to be murdered? Did he not fulfil the Chief’s expectations? 

“But Chief–,” 

“–Especially you, girl. I shall talk to you when I’m done with this crow.”

Aemond instantly locked his eye with hers. Even her expression was unreadable as she hesitantly turned around to exit the tent. She gave him a nod, giving him support before leaving him alone with the Chief. Aemond turned his gaze back to the Chief who was crossing his arms inspecting Aemond from head to toe. 

“The girl likes you,” the Chief chuckles. “If it wasn’t for her you’d probably be dead by now. Killed by those crows.” Aemond kept his expression stoic as he brushed off the Chief’s words. “Speaking of crows, she told me you were forced to be one. Was that true?”

Aemond nodded.

“Yes, Chief.”

“What was your crime?”

“I was called a traitor to the Starks. Yet I beg to differ, for it was them who were traitors,” Aemond bravely said. 

“Traitors to whom?”

“The Throne. My brother.”

“Your brother? Your brother sat on a throne?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“That makes you a prince, then.”

A title he deeply missed. Aemond stood proudly, straightened his back as he kept his chin up high. 

“I am–,”

“You were.” 

“For you are currently not in Westeros, my boy. You are beyond the wall. Everyone beyond the wall fights for survival. For nature does not care if you’re a king or a criminal. And so far as I know, you stand before me,” the Chief said, telling Aemond to abandon his title as prince. “Where does your loyalty lie, boy?” The Chief asked, stepping closer to the one eyed prince. “To the crows?–”

“–No,” Aemond spoke with no hesitation. 

“The Starks?”

“Never.”

The Chief hummed in agreement. “The girl told me you wished to be rewarded. To go back to your family.” Aemond nodded, wishing nothing more than that. “So you’re loyal to your family,” he pointed out.

Aemond nodded. 

“Good. A man should always stay loyal to his family.”

He poured his drink onto his cup, “But will you stay loyal to us as you serve my tribe? And lead us to victory?” Aemond looked down, seeing the cup lent to him. Offering a friendship– an alliance– trust. Trusting a wildling. It seemed impossible for him, but he recalled simple questions by those wildlings about his hair. They were a simple tribe, living out of the complicated politics of Westeros. He could outsmart them easily and they’re offering him friendship. 

She paced back and forth in front of the Chief’s tent, waiting for the Targaryen to exit the tent unharmed. “You seemed stressed, kid,” Gruffed snickered, crossing his arms as he took notice on worried expression. “Of course, I am,” she said, stopping her steps abruptly. “May I know why?” He chuckled.

 “Is it because of the crow?–”

“–He is not a crow. He loathes the crows as much as we do.”

Gruff chuckled amusingly. 

“And? I bet Chief will tolerate him–,”

“–What if he doesn't? What if he beheaded that man and puts him on a spike?!–”

“–So what? What if he were beheaded? You should not care for that outsider—,”

“–I don’t care about him! I-I-I just want what’s best for our people–,”

“–You like him,” Gruff points at her with a mocking laugh. “I don’t! You pig!” She shouted defensively, quickly slapping Gruff’s arm repeatedly. “You do! You like that snow haired boy!” Gruff kept pointing at her as he teased her. The young she wildling grunts in frustration as he denies her feelings for the Targaryen. “If you speak of this one more time, I will kill you in your sleep, Gruff.” 

“Oooh you’ll kill me in my sleep, eh? Right, sure you don’t like that boy, surely if he one day betrays us will you kill him in his sleep?”

“I will. And I’ll cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent,” she speaks bluntly. 

“Right, you sure you won’t use that for anything else?”

Her face turned red before she threw a hard punch across the red haired’s face. Groaning in pain, Gruff still laughed at her being so flustered with his words. “Why do you like him anyways? Is it because of his hair? His eye? Ooh his other eye, the sapphire?” Gruff asked, sitting up curiously looking at his friend. “For the last time, I do not like our new comer,” she repeated herself. “Keep telling that to yourself, kid. If I see silver haired babies one day–.”

The tent opened, Aemond stepping out of the tent.

Unharmed. 

“Ah, so he gave you a chance to live another day,” she said quickly, changing her once worried demeanour into the confident young wildling she is. Aemond could only nod, towering over her. “I shall, and I will.” 

His purple eye fixed on hers, “Where can I find new clothes?”

a/n: stay tuned for the next chapter and I apologize if this is not my best work but😊✨

[prythianpages]

Slipping Through My Fingers | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

warnings: fluff/angst; some suggestiveness at the end (bonus scene)

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: but also my Dandelion series. I really adore this song and this was the only series I could apply it to. This can pretty much be read as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know is that reader is a witch and is an established relationship with Az.

In the quiet hush of morning, Azriel and Melaina find themselves at the breakfast table with sleep in their eyes. The floor is cloaked in their shadows, joining one another at their feet in a vast sea of darkness.

Yet, the dance of their shadows harbor distinct meanings.

Though he tries to hide it, your keen eyes pick up on the subtle poignant unease in Azriel's demeanor. An undercurrent of melancholy taints the air, prompting you to send a reassuring tug through your bond. Azriel returns the gesture, his hand finding yours across the table. Meanwhile, Melaina quietly finishes her breakfast. Her shadows, a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, betray her impassive appearance. Today is her first day of school, the precipice of a new chapter in her life, and Azriel can't help but grapple with the realization that his little girl is growing up far too quickly.

“All done, my pretty?” You ask softly, gaze alight with admiration as her small wings flutter behind her.

She’s the mirror image of her father with her captivating hazel eyes–a perfect blend of greens and browns that remind you of the nature you’re so fond of. Two braids cascade down her shoulders and delicate bangs accentuate her sun-kissed complexion. When she was born, you had joked that you had given birth to Azriel’s carbon copy and little did you know that even her personality would match his. 

Melaina nods and you rise, taking her plate to the kitchen sink. The corner of your lips lift up into a smile when you hear Azriel ask, “Are you sure you want to go to school? You can always start next year.”

“Mel is more than ready for school,” you lightly chide Azriel, who chooses to ignore your words of consolation. 

His gaze is fixed on Melaina, a plethora of scenarios plaguing his mind. He wishes he could see what’s really on her mind–to be able to foresee any worries she may have and ease her through them. The same way he’s eased her through every milestone of her life thus far. He was there when she took her first steps, when she first got hurt from tripping over a rug that he immediately disposed of after, when she said her first word–which much to your dismay was your cat’s name, Binx. 

But now, she was ready for school. Her first time being away from home without you or him or his brothers by her side. Her first time being on her own. What if the kids in her class don’t take well to her? To her shadows? He remembers the apprehensive looks he’d receive in Windhaven when growing up and the thought of anyone doing the same to her pains him. What if they are mean to her? What if they hurt her?

The obsidian tendrils at Azriel's side stir with an eerie melody, commanding Melaina's shadows to rise. They snap to attention like disciplined soldiers heeding orders. An unspoken promise unfolds—her shadows would help guide her and protect her from any lingering stare or slightest suspicion of malintent. They return to her side as she rises to her feet, tickling her sides and causing her to giggle.

 Azriel smiles and shares her laughter, capturing every minute of it, the feeling in it.

**

There’s that odd melancholy feeling again as he stands in front of the school with Melaina on one side and you on the other. He can’t help the frown that settles over his face when she wiggles her tiny hand out of his grasp to run to her cousins. You’re following after her, tugging Azriel along with you to join his brothers and their mates at the front of the school.

“Good morning, Azriel jr,” Cassian greets her with a smile, playfully tugging at one of her braids. “Are you ready for your first day?”

Melaina lets out a huff. “Of course I am, Uncle Cas.”

Cassian then looks toward Azriel, who continues to brood, and chuckles. “It doesn’t look like your daddy is.”

Azriel glares at Cassian. You leave his side to hug Feyre and the frown leaves his face at the delighted squeal that comes from you, his shadows singing in response. He turns his head to see you and Feyre exchange smiles while you gush in excitement over her growing belly. Though Feyre looks at Azriel with a knowing smile, her words are directed to you.

“Rhys was the same way with Nyx,” she muses and out of the corner of his eye, Azriel catches his brother rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it.

“So was Nesta,” Cassian adds, propping an elbow on Nesta’s shoulders. She shoves him off with a shrug before chiding after their twin boys, Cardan and Calian. The aftermath of the aphrodisiac you made–or rather, remade–for her after Azriel accidentally drank the first batch.

“I’m surprised you’re faring well with this,” Feyre says with a raised brow at you.

“Well, someone has to be the strong one,” you tease, side glancing at Azriel and squeezing his hand. 

Azriel lets out a small huff, similar to the one Melaina let out earlier. He knew you were also stressed and a little sad but you were surprisingly able to hide it better than him. But unbeknownst to him, just in case the obsidian necklace she wore was not enough, you had casted a protection spell over Melaina before she went to bed…and packed her bags with a variety of charged crystals.

The gathering of students at the school's entrance slowly disperses, and Azriel tenses beside you, acknowledging the imminent moment of having to say goodbye. Nyx, ever courteous, takes it upon himself to accompany Melaina to class. Azriel suspects Feyre's influence in Nyx's gesture, as if she intuited the added difficulty for him and you. He watches as Melaina walks back to you and you lean down, gently smoothing her bangs before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Today will be a wonderful day for you,” you affirm for her with a radiant smile, making Azriel's heart melt at the sight of the two girls he loves the most.  He wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. 

Your hand delicately reaches for the obsidian crystal suspended from her neck, lifting it tenderly to your lips. There’s a flash of green light that engulfs the crystal and as you release the necklace, Azriel notices the new sparkle to it. “Love you, my pretty.”

Though Melaina doesn’t verbalize it back, her eyes radiate a golden glow and the soft caress of her shadows against your face feels like a tender whisper that articulates, "I love you too.” You pull her in close, hugging her smaller frame and lean down to whisper. But Azriel’s attentive senses still catch it.

“Now hug and give your daddy a kiss so he doesn’t cry.”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Feeling a tug on his sweater, he leans down to meet his daughter at eye level. Opening his arms expectantly, a surge of warmth envelops him as she eagerly rushes into his embrace. A tender kiss graces his cheek, accompanied by the familiar caress of her shadows against his other cheek similar to the way they had done with you. He pulls away to look at her, holding her gently by the shoulders. He knows her shadows will do well to protect her and if those aren’t enough, her older cousins are just a couple of classrooms down the hall. But he needs to hear her say it.

“What will you do if someone is mean to you?”

Melaina’s eyes light up and she steps out from his hold. True to the goddess you named her after, she's a tiny vision of nightmares and madness, as she assumes a defensive position, her shadows dancing around her.

“Kick them in the face!” She exclaims as she raises her leg up with a glare directed toward her nonexistent enemy.  “I'll make my enemies bleed.”

Cardan and Calian follow after her while Nyx wisely keeps a safe distance, amused by the spectacle of his younger cousins engaging in an imaginary brawl. Cassian watches them fondly, striking punches of his own into the air but you’re shaking your head with furrowed brows. Azriel catches the pointed look you send his way and a subtle blush overtakes his cheeks as you’ve discovered his secret. He continues to read Melaina, those books you told him not to. 

“No, Mel, that’s not–”

“That’s my girl,” Azriel grins as he rises to his feet, feeling slightly better. He rustles her bangs fondly.

The sound of the school bell echoes through the park as a final warning that class should be beginning shortly. Azriel reluctantly shrugs Melaina’s backpack off his shoulder, the small bag looking ridiculous on someone of his stature. He adjusts it on her with careful consideration for her delicate wings and feels an ache in his chest as the backpack nearly engulfs her smaller frame. 

As the faint rustling, reminiscent of rocks shifting, comes from the bag, it is Azriel’s turn to send you a subtle yet pointed look in your direction. A suppressed smile tugs at his lips when you quickly avert your gaze and he realizes he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.

“Off you go, my little shadow. See you later.”

Once the backpack is secured to her, she takes Nyx’s waiting hand and runs off to the entrance with him. Azriel almost frowns but then, at the top of the stairs, she turns around, waving goodbye with a small absent-minded smile.

He watches her go into the school with a surge of that well-known sadness. Tears prick his eyes and though he knows he’s being dramatic, he can’t help the feeling that he’s losing her forever. His sweet little girl who keeps on growing. She’s slipping through his fingers all the time.

**

Bonus scene

Before his family could indulge in making fun of him, Azriel grasps your hand, drawing you close as he summons his shadows. The inky tendrils swirl around you both, transporting you back to the familiar sanctuary of your home.

"If this is your reaction on her first day of school, I can only imagine what you’ll be like when she has her first crush," you say, a teasing sparkle in your eyes.

Azriel's grip on you tightens. He doesn’t want to grapple further into the inevitability of his daughter's growing independence because to him, Melaina will always be his baby girl. A subtle strain echoes in his voice as he pleads, "Don't."

Easing out of his embrace, you giggle at his dramatics, strolling toward the kitchen with a lightness in your step, intent on brewing some tea. "It's just a couple of hours, Az," you reassure him.

"A couple of hours?" Azriel echoes, a pensive note in his voice as he joins you in the kitchen.

Having taken the entire week off, he had intended to be present for every moment—dropping Melaina off and picking her up during her first week at school. He didn’t plan for much other than that and he was used to spending his days off with his little family but now Melaina was off at school, leaving the two of you alone.

The kettle placed on the stove begins to whistle, harmonizing with the new thought that brews in his mind. You’re raising your steaming cup of tea to your lips, peering over at Azriel as he walks up to you. “What? You want some?” You ask, raising your cup to him.

Azriel shakes his head with a smile. Carefully taking the cup from you, he places it onto the counter behind you. He gently but firmly holds your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. The faint blush on his cheeks returns, a soft hue that complements the golden brilliance in his eyes as he looks down at you with adoration because you’ve given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

Still, there's an insatiable desire within him for even more moments, more shared dreams, and more of you.

“Let’s have another?”

“A baby?”

Azriel nods, attentively studying your features for any nuanced emotion. He feels relief when you smile and you voice your answer without having to say anything, flooding him with love through the bond you share. The two of you had discussed having children years ago, almost two years before having Melaina. After she was born, you mirrored each other’s desires for having more but had agreed on waiting but not too long as you wanted your children to grow up together.

“We do have a couple of hours to ourselves,” you remind him again, embracing him with arms entwined around his neck, fingers brushing through the back of his hair.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you up with ease and you’re wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins when your legs tighten around him and kisses you.

“Let’s not waste another second.”

a/n: hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 Sorry, I skipped ahead. I do want to eventually write an imagine for when Az & reader first find out they're having a baby. That might be the next imagine for this series.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something. 

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you. 

"What the hell were you thinking?!" 

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…” 

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either." 

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself. 

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes. 

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set. 

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause. 

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude. 

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak. 

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong." 

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways. 

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination. 

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter. 

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!" 

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap. 

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head. 

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn? 

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely. 

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest. 

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out. 

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.  

Now that  he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl. 

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you. 

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side. 

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.  

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest. 

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller. 

"It's okay," you say. 

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[tiredfox64]

Hi! 💗 Sorry if this is a weird request but I was wondering if you could do some scenarios for the Lin Kuei brothers where the afab/fem reader gets an injury on their back (ex. Stab, slash, clawed) and the brothers have to patch them up. Reader hasn’t had anyone see them topless so they’re really insecure and shy about it. Either all together or individual scenarios for each brother, whichever is easier for you. Some hurt/comfort would be much appreciated.

There is No Shame in Healing

Yip notes: Let me tell you and everyone else something. I don’t think a request from any of you will be weird. If it didn’t come from mind then it ain’t weird

Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Injuries, mention of blood

One must always be careful during a mission. Someone could be incredibly skilled yet still be ambushed. One could never be too careful.

But people make mistakes and people make sacrifices. You had to make a sacrifice for your grandmaster.

You were on a small mission with all the brothers. They suspected a spy amongst the Lin Kuei and wanted to hunt down this fiend. You all were tracking down this spy, getting closer to capturing them and figuring out which clan they were sent by. Unfortunately, the spy knew you guys were coming for him. He waited for you to come to him. It didn’t matter if it was Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas, or you who stepped in front of him. He will strike down anyone. He won’t go down without a fight.

Tomas stopped you all when he heard the bushes rustle. There was no wind so that definitely meant they were getting close to this traitor. Bi-Han advised you all to search the area. You were as silent as a spider as you carefully searched around. The only issue was that you felt like something was off. There was an eerie feeling in the air.

You turned around to check on the others. Kuai Liang was still searching, his hand gripping the handle of his kusarigama. You looked over to Tomas who stood still, trying to hear any movement. The last person you looked at was Bi-Han. The reason you felt something eerie was right behind him.

The spy was right behind Bi-Han. He hid in the bushes. He raised his arm, ready to strike your grandmaster down. Your mind went blank.  All you remember doing was yelling Bi-Han’s name. Your legs moved on their own. Your body collided with Bi-Han’s as the spy’s hand came down. A burning sensation ripped through your back yet your body managed to dull the pain. You were running on pure adrenaline.

You turned towards the spy before clocking him in the face. The spy was out like a light. The kunai that was in his hand went into the air as he came crashing down. For a second, you were unsure if you did that. You barely felt anything on your fist yet it was clear you packed a mean punch.

Everything is okay. You can breathe. The scumbag is knocked out and you don’t have to worry about him harming anyone else. The only person who was hurt was you.

Your mind caught onto the fact of what just happened. It registered the pain you felt in your back. It felt like there was a line of fire that burned. You let out this groan that grew louder the longer you stood there. That broke the men out of their stunned stance and they ran up to you.

“Don’t move,” Tomas advised you. The concern in his voice was present with the addition of shaky breathing.

“Kuai Liang, inspect the weapon,” Bi-Han ordered as he was worried there was possibly poison on the kunai.

Bi-Han wanted to yell at you for the stunt you pulled. He wanted to scold you for doing something risky and getting yourself hurt. But he couldn't, he shouldn’t. He can’t yell at you for risking yourself for him. It was dumb, but you did it out of respect for your grandmaster. What good would yelling do? What’s done is done. He can’t turn back the clocks and prevent you from getting hurt.

“It’s clean, brother. There is nothing poisonous on it.” Kuai Liang responded.

“Bring her back to the temple, I will deal with this filth.” Bi-Han stared down at the unconscious body. If he didn’t need information from the spy he would freeze him to death.

Tomas and Kuai Liang took your arms and helped guide you back to the temple. You poor girl, the pain grew worse the longer you realized what happened. This burning, throbbing pain won’t leave easily.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang examined the large cut on your back while Tomas stayed in front of you. Tomas was doing his best to keep you calm and keep your mind off the pain. He held your hands and occasionally felt you squeeze them hard as pain returned. It came in waves where it switched between a throbbing pain and becoming a burning, shooting pain.

“The wound is too large in the middle. We will need to stitch it shut.” Kuai Liang whispered to Bi-Han.

Bi-Han did not like the sound of that. He should have taken the hit. It would have saved you the pain you were feeling and struggling to handle. Again, he can’t change what happened. So he has to help you deal with this. He will stay with you throughout the whole process. They all will.

Bi-Han yelled to some of the clansmen to bring supplies into the room. He made the mistake of listing the supplies he needed like the needles for the stitching which made you panic. Tomas took your head into his hands and forced you to look at him.

“Don’t worry. I promise you, everything will be okay. Focus on me and you will barely feel anything. Okay?”

“…okay.” You answered back in a strained voice. You were so close to crying but you were holding it together.

The clansmen brought the supplies to the brothers. They would need to wash the wound to prevent infection. You felt Kuai Liang place his hand on your shoulder before asking you something.

“Are you able to take your top off?”

You snapped your neck towards him. Your eyebrows furrowed with concern. You wanted to shake your head no but Kuai Liang was quick to explain why he asked.

“I know, I know you are a woman. But the females in the clan do not know how to deal with a wound this drastic. I need you to trust us if you want this to be dealt with. We promise we won’t look at you any differently than if you were a man.” Kuai Liang reassured you.

They can’t be mad at you for wanting to keep your clothes on. This is an awkward situation. It doesn’t make it any better that you’ve never undressed in front of anybody. Not even other women.

Look, people are shy about this stuff, no one can blame you for that. You rather not take your top off and have people stare at you for one reason or another. Ogling and judging are not the looks you want to receive. But in situations like this, you have to think about your life. They cannot patch you up with your top still on. They want to help you out; this is not a trick to see your breasts. They are men, not animals.

“Can I have a towel to cover myself?” You asked.

Kuai Liang nodded before grabbing a towel from the pile that the clan brought in. He held it up in front of you to give you some privacy to loosen the straps of your uniform. You took your time to loosen the straps. Once the straps that were wrapped around your waist were loose you began taking the rest off. Even that hurt to do. It felt like peeling back a layer of skin. Your blood was holding onto your clothes tight before Bi-Han came up behind you and helped you remove it. Then you heard him groan.

“Your bra…you need to remove it.” He said.

“What?!”

“The cut went through the back of your bra as well. If you want to get this done you need to take that off.”

You felt like you were about to cry. This situation was not in your favor. The longer this went on the more scared you became. But that burning flared up again, reminding you of why you need to push through. The embarrassment and shame will pass, this pain won’t if you keep refusing. Take a deep breath. You can trust them.

“Alright, I understand.”

You were about to unhook it yourself but Bi-Han was quick to do it for you. Wow, one hand, that’s impressive. You slipped it off and saw that he was telling the truth. The back of the bra was cut and looked like it would rip if you kept it on for any longer. You put it down before taking the towel from Kuai Liang and covering your front. Now they can begin.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

They did their best to keep you comfortable. They had to keep your pain tolerance in mind.

Tomas was luckily keeping your mind off of most things. He kept talking to you about different topics. Never once did you see his eyes wander down to take a peek even though you covered yourself with a towel. His eyes stayed on your face as he went on and on.

Kuai Liang did most of the work like cleaning your wound and washing the blood off of you. Once he was done with that he told Bi-Han to make his hands colder. Bi-Han wasn’t sure what Kuai Liang was getting at until he saw him preparing the needle for stitching. His brother wanted him to numb the area.

“Do not panic, I am about to touch you.” He warned you.

You weren’t sure what he meant until you felt his cold hands press against your back. You let out a sharp exhale as you pressed the towel closer to your body.

Kuai Liang waited a few minutes before poking the area that Bi-Han’s hand was touching.

“Do you feel anything?” He asked.

“Nope, just cold.” Good enough.

He began stitching you up without you knowing. You felt the tiniest bit of pressure but the needle was barely noticeable. The more that Kuai Liang stitched the lower Bi-Han’s hands went. The burning feeling was growing bearable and the throbbing became less. You felt less tense, basically forgetting that you were without your top while three men tended to you. Kuai Liang got quicker but was still clean with his movement.

Before you knew it, Bi-Han’s hands were off of you. Kuai Liang put in the last stitch and tied it off. He and his brother let out a sigh of relief which alerted you and Tomas.

“Are we done?” You asked.

“Yes, we are done. You did well.” Bi-Han complimented you.

“I would like to wrap the wound just in case it opens. I doubt it will happen but you could never be too careful,” Kuai Liang said as he grabbed a large gauze roll, “But I will need to wrap the front as well.”

“W-what does that mean?”

You looked at Tomas who was looking at his brother. By his actions and facial expression, you could guess what that meant. The bandage would have to go around your body to stay in place. That meant it would have to go to your front, right under your boob, and across your stomach.

That panic was present on your face which Tomas was quick to catch on. He held his hands up and gestured for you to relax.

“If you don’t want to then we won’t. We are only doing this for your benefit.”

His words were true. This whole time the brothers were trying their best to not make you uncomfortable. If you didn’t want to take this step then that’s okay. They are only doing it to make sure you stay well. Do you have any reason not to trust them?

You took a moment to think about what to do. You don’t have to go all tits out. You had a solution. You folded the towel that you had pressed against your body until it was just enough to cover your breasts. You straighten your posture before nodding at them to do it.

Kuai Liang went behind you while Tomas stayed in front. They would pass the roll to each other as they wrapped up the wound. You observed Tomas as he did it. Never once did he look nervous or awkward. He was more focused on wrapping you tight enough but not too tight. He’s a respectable man.

Kuai Liang tied the gauze and you were finished. You did so well. The brothers were happy that you trusted them. Now it’s time for Bi-Han to pay you back for your little stunt.

“You two, clean up the supplies and I will bring her to her room.” Bi-Han walked over to you and helped you off the floor.

He told you to keep the towel wrapped around your body as he guided you. The clan was respectful and did not look at you as the grandmaster brought you to your room. Once you were in, he placed you on your bed.

“Where do you keep your clothes?” He asked.

“Uhm…in the closet? Why?”

“I need to get you something to wear.” He walked over to your closet and started searching for something.

“You know I can get my own cl-“

“Just let me help you. After what you pulled today I can’t trust you to do things yourself.” He was being such a hardass but this was secretly his way of paying you back. A thank you for saving him.

He handed you a robe for you to wear. He turned around to give you privacy as you dropped the towel and changed.

“Alright, I’m decent.”

“Good, now get some rest.” He pointed to your bed to signal you to lie down.

Now is not the time to disobey your grandmaster. Obey him now.

You slowly got into bed, careful not to hurt yourself. Bi-Han came closer to pull the sheets over your body. You were about to joke about him tucking you in but you knew that would call for another scolding. You got as comfortable as you could and closed your eyes. Bi-Han turned around to walk out and saw the door was slightly ajar. He saw shadows moving away from the door and he knew it was his brothers.

He walked out of your room and closed the door quietly while glaring at his brothers. They acted like they weren’t trying to take a peek at their brother getting all soft for his little savior.

“What were you fools doing?”

“We just wanted to check up on her.”

“Yeah and see you get all lovey dovey with her,” Tomas whispered under his breath.

“What!”

“That was the wind good night.” There goes Tomas, making an escape again.

Yap notes: WHY DID I LET THE METS DISTRACT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I hope I did this well at least idk. Adiós!

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Idia Shroud - Tsumsitter Vignette

"A Moment with Idiatsum I"

[Main Street]

―Idia and Vil, immediately after encountering their look-alike tsums…

Vil: Honestly, what a handful they are… Idia, we must capture those tsums.

Idia: Eeh…!? Wh-why do I have to go with you…?

Vil: Are you content with having those peanuts outfox us? Quickly, now!

Idia: Urrgh, why is this happening to me…? I shouldn't've gone outside…

[Idia and Vil start searching]

Idia: Not like we even know where the tsums ran off too…

Vil: Oh! I found a tsum! Idia, help me capture it.

Idia: Eep…! As you wish…!

Vil: Good thing we were able to capture it fairly quickly. Be good, now, peanut.

Idia: Can't believe we found it posing under a lamp light… Fuheehee, Vil-shi, your tsum's real silly～

Vil: And do you think you have any time to be prattling away, still? Hurry and find your tsum already.

Vil: I'll be heading off to the Headmage's office now.

Idia: HUH!? Why…?

Vil: Well, why not? There's no reason for me to stay here longer than I need to.

Idia: B-But…! I came in as reinforcements to capture your tsum!

Vil: All you did was follow many paces behind me. So, goodbye.

Idia: W-Wait, wait, wait a moment! We just took our eyes off the tsums for a sec and they vanished, right!?

Idia: That means their speed stats are way too OP! There's no way I can catch them with my own weak skill set…

Idia: IT'S AN IMPOSSIBLE QUEST!!!

Vil: I understand what you're trying to say, but… It would just be a waste of my time to go searching for it without any plan.

Idia: I-I think I can guess where Tsum-shi would be… And I have a strat forming.

Vil: What are you thinking?

Idia: J-Just hear me out.

[Interior Hallway]

Vil: If this tsum takes after the introverted Idia, of course it would run indoors… Makes perfect sense.

Vil: Now it comes down to whether your ace strategy will succeed…

Idia: And, here we go. Pretty good for something I just slapped together with what I had on hand.

Vil: All you did was lean a basket on a vertical stick and laid a tablet underneath it. What's "pretty good" about it?

～♪

Vil: And the tablet is just playing some weird music on loop. What an eerie noise.

Idia: Huh? You seriously doesn't get how good this BGM is? This is why I just can't with normies…

Vil: You're planning to lure the tsum here with this music, yes? We should go hide ourselves in the shadows now.

[Idia's tsum follows the sound to the tablet]

Idia: Ah…

Vil: I can't believe it actually appeared…

Idia: Perf, it's checking out the tablet. Now all I have to do is pull the string attached to the string, and…

[thunk!]

Idia: It's under the basket!

[the tsum starts running frantically]

Idia: Wait, it's trying to run away even with the basket over it! Vil-shi, help!

Vil: Fine. You owe me for this, Idia.

[the tsum continues running]

[the tsum slows and finally stops]

Vil: …Oh, it stopped running. Perhaps it's accepted defeat.

Idia: I-I bet… It's just out of energy. It's kind of unsettling to see that it lacks stamina like me, too...

Vil: Well, at least your plan worked. Now then, we should hurry on to the Headmage's office.

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: Whew～ …Finally got to escape. I can't deal being stuck in the Headmage's office with that many people.

Idia: But still…

Idia: Tsum-shi, you've just been trying to avoid looking at anything, huh. …I mean, I definitely get it, tho.

Idia: I'm just as uncomfortable as you, you know… Didn't think the day would come that I'd let anyone else other than Ortho in here.

Idia: I guess if you're really like me, then you won't try to go outside anytime soon, so… Just gotta chill for now.

Idia: Think I'll just jump back into grinding in my online game to get outta this funk. 'Specially since we're in the middle of a EXP UP event.

Idia: Ugh, I fell asleep in the middle of my game again… Oh, it's 4:00 already. Gotta snag my login bonuses.

Idia: Hmm, where's my tablet? …Huh? I swear I threw it on my bed when I got back to my room…

Idia: More importantly, what's with this cardboard box? It's just sitting in the middle of my room, getting in my way…

[thud…!]

Idia: EEK!? The box moved on its own!?

Idia: Oh… I think I see what's happening… But I think I'll take a peek inside just in case.

[Idiatsum is under the box playing with the tablet]

Idia: Yuup, that was a given. So, Tsum-shi, what 're you doing with my tablet…?

Idia: …You're just re-rolling tutorial banners in some game??

"A Moment with Idiatsum II"

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: I showed it Premo merch, and the computer I built myself… Even showed it a ton of my other prized stuff…

Idia: But after all that, it got mad over MMORPG class roles. I'm so over this Tsum-shi.

Idia: Ugggh～ I was dumb, thinkin' I could take care of it myself. I'm not gonna do anything for it anymore.

Ortho: But you have to, the Headmage gave it to you to look after.

Idia: It'll be fine on its own. Or what, you wanna look after it?

Ortho: Hmmm, I don't really mind, but… I have to get going to my Film Research Club after this.

Idia: Eh!? You're heading out!?

Ortho: It'll be alright! I'm sure you and the tsum'll patch things up! See you later!

Idia: Be safe…

[Ortho leaves]

[Idiatsum pings on the tablet…]

Idia: Ortho left… And now I'm stuck all alone with Tsum-shi, even though we're not getting along… THIS SUCKS!!!

Idia: Ughhh, I don't want to deal with it anymore, but I gotta at least get my tablet back from it…

Idia: U-Um… Think you could give my tablet back anytime soon?

Idia: Eeep!? N-Nevermind…

Idia: Wait, why am I backing off, anyway? That's my tablet, isn’t it?

[Idiatsum pings on the tablet…]

Idia: URRRGGH… THIS IS STRESSING ME OUT～～～!

Idia: At this rate, I'll lose my consecutive login streak… I have to get that tablet back somehow!

Idia: What can I do to grab its attention…? I've already shown every Premo thing I have, and my custom build computer…

Idia: What else would catch my eye…? Ah! I got it.

Idia: …Cool. Let's get it done.

[Idiatsum pings on the tablet…]

Idia: Hey, Tsum-shi～ can I bug you for a sec?

[Idiatsum gives Idia a grumpy stare]

Idia: It's still cranky, huh. Hey, come on, I'm the one that wants to be upset here… No, wait, I mean…

Idia: I made something pretty cool for you, Tsum-shi.

Idia: Think of it as a peace offering… This is for you.

[Idiatsum perks up]

Idia: Ohoo～ Do you like it? You see, this is…

[room door opens]

Ortho: I'm back! Were you two able to patch things up?

Idia: Perfect timing, Ortho～! We're just about to come to a compromise.

Ortho: What do you mean, compromise?

Idia: I built a super amazing multi-functional sofa to pull the Tsum-shi in… Or more aptly named, "Tsum-Melting Sofa"!

Ortho: You're going to… melt the tsum?

[the tsum happily hops]

Idia: Ooh. Looks like it gets just how awesome this sofa is.

Idia: Come on, Tsum-shi, sit, sit!

Idia: Time to show the features off ASAP. First... We have this!

[sofa shines brightly]

Ortho: Woah, the sofa lit up like a rainbow!

Idia: That's a must for gamers, you know. As for why it's gotta light up like that, no comment.

[the massage function is activated]

Idia: Then there's the massage function. Nerds like us tend to get tension all up in our shoulders and backs and such.

Idia: Next is this: Inside the sofa is a 7.1 surround sound system with an amp and woofer embedded with it.

～♪

[tsum hops to music]

Ortho: Nice, looks like the tsum is pretty into it!

Idia: Use this alongside the massager function and it'll sooth both your mind and body.

Idia: There's a bunch of other functions, too, like a monitor extension, unfolding footrest, easy reclining…

Idia: But that's not enough for you, right, Tsum-shi? Oh, I know.

Idia: Everything until now has just been the prologue. From here on out… We'll tackle the true face of this sofa!

"A Moment with Idiatsum III"

[Ignihyde Dorm – Idia's Room]

Idia: But that's not enough for you, right, Tsum-shi? Oh, I know.

Idia: Everything until now has just been the prologue. From here on out… We'll tackle the true face of this sofa!

Idia: Let's turn it… ON!

[whirr…]

Idia: Fhee hee hee hee! Looking at Tsum-shi's reaction, it's super effective!

Ortho: The tsum is really excited. Nii-san, what kind of function is that supposed to be?

Idia: Listen and be amazed, this sofa is integrated with MR… a Mixed Reality display!!

Ortho: Huh!? MR is that function that combines the real world with anchored virtual elements, right?

Ortho: The tsum doesn't even have a headset… You're amazing!!

Idia: I mean～ At first I thought about making it come with a headset, but I just kinda found my groove while making it.

Idia: This kind of tech is basically still in beta, but yeah, I rocked it… Oh man, that's a W for me. Heehee!

[the tsum hops happily]

Ortho: The tsum is overjoyed, too. I wonder what it's seeing.

Idia: The default setting is a live performance vide of Premo, so I bet Tsum-shi feels like its right there in the action.

Ortho: Makes sense. Hehe, it looks so happy.

Idia: Yeaaah, glad it's happy with it. Let me grab my tablet before anything else happens…

Idia: Perf, I finally got it back. Now I can keep my consecutive login streak going.

Ortho: Was that your goal here all along?

Idia: Obviously?

Ortho: Yeah, I definitely couldn't believe my eyes when it looked like you had made a real cool sofa to reconcile with the tsum, but…

Ortho: Now that I know it was for the sake of your games, it makes so much more sense!

Idia: See, you get me, Ortho～

Idia: Sides, that sofa is basically just a prototype. I adjusted a blueprint that I had made for myself down to Tsum-shi's size…

Idia: Then I just made it with whatever I had on hand, so there's a ton of functions still missing.

Idia: I'll make sure to collect as much data as possible before it heads back home.

[tsum hops off the sofa]

Ortho: Oh hey, the tsum jumped off the sofa.

Idia: HUH!?

Idia: T-TSUM-SHI... WAS THERE SOMETHING YOU DIDN'T LIKE?

Ortho: It's all smiles. Maybe it's trying to thank you?

Idia: Ah, is that it…?

Idia: Fuheehee! I knew you'd get how cool all those functions were, Tsum-shi.

Ortho: It's great that you and the tsum are getting along again!

Idia: …I guess so. We might've bumped heads, but we're both nerds in the end.

Idia: Guess it's not totally a bad thing that we'll part on good terms, especially since I got to meet someone just like me…

Requested by @farfalla049.

[theminecraftbee]

i love grian's decked out backrooms. they really do capture the "weird ethereal video game practice area" vibe, and something about the way they're like, the strange, completely white and sterile rooms above the dungeon really DOES make them kind of eerie. sort of a not-place for practicing. excellent stuff.

[rahhhbananas]

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐖𝐔 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. hobie, gwen, miles, pavitr

summary. Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Y/n are sent on a short mission to find a bizarre anomaly.

warnings. He/Him pronouns, I have literally no idea how to write Hobie’s accent, this is intended to be a black male reader, but there is no real indications of Y/n’s race!

a/n. I was re-watching KREW play The Mimic and this silly idea has been stuck in my head for awhile 😭 also I just love Hobie with my freaking soul

"So, there's a lady... with a biwu... smacking people?"

Gwen questioned through the coms, watching the ambulance carry away a citizen on a stretcher. Miles swung back up to the building where the other Spider-people sat. "Seems like it," he replied. The group huddled up, discussing their next move. "Hold on!" The trio turned their attention to Y/n. "Are we sure this isn't just some mad woman who enjoys seeing the world suffer?" Pavitr nodded in agreement. "There are some nutters out there! Take Miguel, for instance." Gwen chuckled, struggling to hold back her laughter.

"Oh, come on now. And I highly doubt Peter would let Miguel send us on such a pointless mission," Miles argued, peering into a dark alley, searching for any signs of criminal activity. Y/n let out a sound of amusement. "Are you really that certain, Miles? The guy chased you on all fours, I mean, all fours! I've never seen someone so dedicated to ruining another person's life." Pavitr burst into laughter, his amusement causing him to lose balance and fall off the chimney. Now, it was Y/n's turn to laugh. Ignoring the two, Gwen turned to Miles. "Miles, I know you want to prove yourself or whatever, but come on. Y/n has a point. This is..." A shrill scream cut off her words. The trio turned their attention to Y/n, who deadpanned, "I'm offended that you thought that was me."

"Whatever, someone's in trouble!" Miles leaped from the building, with the others not following. The group landed on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse. Gwen tried to peer through the foggy, see-through material, but it was too obscured. "Just break the glass! It's easy!" Pavtri suggested. However, breaking the "glass" turned out to be more difficult than expected. Pavtri’s golden bracelets ricocheted off the material and came back to hit him. He made a noise of distress, but Y/n, ignoring the mishap, screamed, "There she is!" A clear opening in the material revealed a short lady. Her entire body was white, and she wore a long dress. Her black hair reached the floor, and she had a pink and red flower crown on her head.

"Y/n!" Gwen called out, "I'm on it!" Y/n responded, pulling out a red staff with golden tips on each side. The staff expanded vertically, breaking through the nearly impenetrable material. "Good job, Monkey Man!" Miles exclaimed before jumping down after Gwen. Y/n pulled his mask down. "Monkey Man? Are you serious? That's not a cool name!" Y/n jumped down, followed by Pavitr.

"Hey, lady!" Miles called out to the woman, who had her back turned to the group. "Why don't you turn around? Let us see that maybe pretty face of yours!" Pavitr joked, perching himself on a nearby crane, ready for any sudden movements. The lady slowly turned around, capturing the attention of the Spider-people.

"AUGHH!" The group screamed in unison as they caught sight of their opponent's face. Instead of eyes, she had black holes with white pupils, while black liquid leaked from her eyes. She had a eerie smile, the amount of liquid mirrored that which came from her eyes. "What on earth is that?!" Y/n exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Do you mind me asking... what are you doing here?" Miguel questioned, eyeing the punk who lay sprawled out on the floor. "Nah, go ahead, ask away," Hobie responded, using a tooth pick while making all sorts of funny faces. "I'm just gonna...I can’t even- I'll just ignore him…” Miguel muttered, using his unoccupied hand to soothe his incoming headache. "Whateva...you seen Y/n? I need to him too-“

"Don't even bother making up a lie. I don't need to know about... whatever it is you two do," Miguel interrupted, rolling his eyes. Suddenly, a loud cry echoed through the building, capturing the attention of both men. It was Y/n, being hoisted up by Pavitr, who looked like he had been through a beating and rolled in mud. Peter, who was nearby, rushed to the aid of the bruised teens. "Goodness, what happened to all of you?" Peter asked, trying to ignore Y/n's complaints.

"A lady... with a biwu! She attacked us, mercilessly!" Miles shouted, his hearing temporarily impaired from the battle with the anomaly. Everyone winced at the volume. Miguel emerged from his quarters, with Hobie not far behind. "So, from what I gather, you've dealt with the problem?" Miguel asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah, but not without a hefty price," Gwen gestured towards the injured Y/n and Miles. Hobie hummed, walking over to his boyfriend. "Care to explain what 'appened?" Hobie took Pavitr's place, supporting his own boyfriend. "She hit me with a biwu!" Y/n pouted, crocodile tears falling from his eyes. Hobie looked slightly amused. "A biwu?" Y/n nodded, and the punk had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter. "Alrigh’ then... let's go lie down. 'mm sure you're in pain," Hobie said, guiding his limping boyfriend towards a nearby couch. Y/n's theatricality seemed to amplify in the presence of Hobie. "Should we tell him how Miles pushed him into the line of fire?" Pavitr asked. Gwen quickly shook her head. "Nah, if we do, he won't let Miles live it down. Besides, I'm sure he's got enough explaining to do to his parents," Gwen gestured to Miles, who was smacking the side of his head, trying to regain his hearing. Miles perked up, noticing his friends looking at him. "Did you say something, Gwen?!" Miles shouted, oblivious to the fact that his own volume was still heightened.

[sunflowerwinds]

second guessing [h.c]

summary: hazel makes the mistake of getting caught up in her studies at stark industries, causing you to question your relationship. may has a talk with hazel about what she sees as more important: you or her future?

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language and content, spider!hazel, smoking cannabis, relationship angst, pass relationship trauma, pj & may being real ones, hazel’s deceased parents mentioned.

word count: 4.1K

a/n: HELLO!! HI!! after i can’t even remember how long it’s been since the last update :/ but i am so so so excited to get back into spider-hazel! i hope everyone enjoys <3

SPIDER-HAZEL MASTERLIST!

“So why exactly am I here?”

Hazel was walking with Tony and Happy down the lengthy hallways made of glass windows. She had swung in through the window and quickly changed into a normal outfit, sporting a multi-patterned button-up with a brown sweater vest and dark blue jeans with her white beaten-down Converse. She always felt so out of place when she had to be at Stark Industries.

Here, a broke nineteen-year-old college girl in the most casual outfit, amongst scientists of all fields in the fanciest and most expensive suits. She’s pretty sure everything on her body was thrifted.

They passed Josie’s office where she was typing god-knows-what into her computer. She perked up at the sight of Hazel, waving a friendly hand. Hazel reciprocates the motion, and Josie points with narrowed eyes at Happy’s figure. Happy’s eyes widened in… fear?

“You’re a filthy cheat, Hogan. I started another game,” Josie threatens as she clicks out of something on her desktop.

Happy looked like he wanted to say something but kept quiet for the time being. Hazel swore she saw Tony smiling to himself.

When Tony didn’t answer her question earlier, her eyes widened as she thought of the car chase yesterday afternoon. The bill.

“If this is about the bill for the damaged car, I-I completely forgot to tell you about it. That was my bad.” Hazel spluttered out, fidgeting with the rings covering her fingers.

This made the powerful man turn his head slightly to the side as they continued to walk.

“Kid, what damaged car?” He questioned Hazel, brows setting that intimidating furrow.

Hazel shook her head and pursed her lips. “Nothing. I’m sure it was nothing.”

Tony then glanced at Happy who shrugged. They exchanged so many words in such little silence. Hazel blew out a breath of air as they rounded a corner into someplace she was familiar with.

The three entered Dr. Connors's office where the man was standing and flipping through files. Tony knocked on the glass door with a single knuckle, capturing the blonde man's attention.

“Dr. Connors,” Tony nodded his head with a professional smile on his lips.

“Mr. Stark,” he replied with the same gesture. “Happy.”

Hazel straightened her aching back from the previous day, eyes bouncing from every knick-knack in Connor's office. The second she entered the space yesterday, a weird tingle had traveled down her spine every time. There was something eerie about Dr. Connors in a way that she couldn’t explain.

But Mr.Stark trusted him so she would learn to trust him too.

Connors turned to Hazel’s figure. “Miss Callahan, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Dr. Connors,” she replied with a charming smile.

“Now, kid, Dr.Connors, as you know, is in need of some assistance with his cross-species genetics project,” Hazel nodded to confirm she was listening, glancing down at the missing part of Dr. Connor's arm. “I, so brilliantly, suggested that you can take this on as a… trial run to see how big that brain of yours really is.”

Dr. Connors's eyes flicker to Hazel who curtly nods.

“I’ve never really worked on cross-species genetics, Dr.Connors, so fair warning,” Hazel jokes with a nervous chuckle.

“Well if you’re as gifted as Mr.Stark says you are, I’m sure you’ll pick up everything rather quickly.”

Hazel beams at Tony who just stares at Dr.Connors like he had been caught doing something out of the ordinary. This gave her a little pep in her step to know that Tony Stark had praised at least one person about her intelligence.

“Gifted?” Hazel recites, looking at Happy with a cheeky grin.

“Yeah, don’t let it get to your mullet-y head, kid,” Tony quipped as he tugged down his sleeves. “To the lab, Dr.Connors?”

Happy had a knowing look on his face at the way Tony quickly changed the subject, throwing Hazel a discrete wink. Dr.Connors even held an amused grin at his urgency to move on. Hazel hopped excitedly behind Happy and Tony, alongside Connors as they made their way to the lab in Stark Towers.

Tony Stark thinks she’s intelligent.

“So what exactly do you mean she just disappeared?” PJ questioned while she rummaged through her brown corduroy bag.

After waking up this morning to see an empty bed and all of Hazel’s stuff gone, a wave of sadness fell over you. You understood that her internship sometimes called for her to come in the early hours of the morning but it didn’t ease your anxious mind when she would just not answer your texts or calls.

When call five again went straight to voicemail, irritation flooded your system. It was your day off and you didn’t want to stress over Hazel’s disappearance.

You were quick to text PJ to ask her if she could bring some of her weed as a stress reliever. PJ was at your door within minutes, a cheeky grin on her face. You led her to your room and propped open your window so that the two of you could smoke on the fire escape. You sat on the ground, back against the brick walls with a pillow underneath you while PJ sat in front of you on the stairs, her purse in her lap.

“She slept over last night and it was so nice, you know? I woke up this morning, excited to spend one of my days off with her and she’s gone.” You sigh as you lean your head on the red brick.

PJ smacks her lips as she whispers a ‘Where the hell are they?’ before lifting her head up to nod at your words to show she was actively listening.

“It’s that Tony Stark shit, right?” PJ questioned as she continued to rummage through her messy bag for her pre-rolled joints.

“Yeah, but am I being too… clingy? Or overreacting or something?” You ask PJ as you twiddle with the ends of your gray sweats.

PJ deadpanned to you as she sternly shook her head. Her slightly frizzy wavy hair bounced with the motion.

“No! You are a worried girlfriend, dude,” she continued to shake her head.

PJ’s hands pull out of her bag and hold up a retro tin box that reads ‘I can’t cook, Who cares?’ that she had probably found at an antique store.

“Come on, we gotta take your mind off that shit. Do you have a light?” PJ excitedly grinned as she bounced her knees from where she was sitting across from you, her red and white basketball shorts shifting up her thighs.

You nod with a snort as you lean over to your bedroom window to snatch it from your bedside table. As you’re backing out, you notice a few dirt marks on the window sill that look like tennis shoe imprints. Like Hazel’s Converse, now that you’re staring at it more and more.

Huh. Interesting.

You place the black lighter in PJ’s palm with a tight-lipped grin. PJ took a singular joint out of the tin box and held it between her lips. She flickered on the flame, shielding it with a cupped palm. You watched the end lit a faint red as PJ sucked in a deep breath.

She coughed a bit as she handed it to you, blowing out the smoke with a relieved sigh. You take the warm joint in between your middle finger and thumb to breathe in the relaxing toxin.

“So, are you going to break up with her?” PJ hummed as she tilted her head at you.

You coughed harshly in shock at the bluntness of the question. The smoke left your lips in a staggered pattern as you waved it away.

“What the fuck? No,” you chuckle as you hand the joint back to her after taking a smaller hit. “I think we just need to have a talk about this.”

PJ took a long hit between her pointer and middle finger, nodding slowly. Her eyebrows raise which causes you to scrunch up your face in confusion.

“I’m just saying this sounds oddly familiar,” PJ sing-songed as she blew out the smoke in your face.

A stab of fear entered your system for a moment. No. Hazel wasn’t like her. She would never do what she had done to you.

“I know her, P. She’s not like… you know,” you defend your girlfriend.

PJ passed the joint back to you, jerking a bit at the sudden honk coming from the streets below. You take it from her to take another long drag, wanting to be nearly light-headed.

“Okay, if you say so but let’s not worry about that right now. Are you hungry?” PJ quipped with a small grin.

“Oh shit, yeah. We can make sandwiches.” You nod slowly, taking another small drag from the joint.

“Let’s finish this first, actually before we get inside. I know your uncle would, like, flip the fuck out if he smelt this in your apartment.” PJ began to giggle softly, shaking her head as she leaned against the rusted railing of the stairs.

You hum with a content smile, Hazel being long gone from your mind within seconds. Whatever. It’s nothing. The situation was under your control and definitely was not Hazel keeping secrets from you.

Nope. Not one bit.

You were getting high with a friend, letting the midday sun pour into your system as you let your mind wander away from your distant girlfriend—

Wait, were you going to get a sunburn? Or sun poisoning?

Hazel was so fucked. So completely fucked.

When she had checked her phone after her hours with Dr.Connors accumulating the perfect formula for the cross-species genetics, she saw phone calls and text messages from you, May, and PJ.

You had called her 10 times and texted her 15 times while May and PJ were only twice with each. The first few texts were just: ‘Hello?’ and ‘Where did you go this morning?’. The messages then turned more concerned for her well-being: ‘Haze, baby, are you okay?’

Hazel sprinted out of the lab, shouting an apology to Dr.Connors as her Converse squeaked against the tile floors. She made a b-line to the stairs door to hurry to the roof. She snatched her backpack that she had thrown up here when she had arrived at Stark Towers. She practically rips it open to stuff her clothes into and slides her mask over her face.

Hazel anxiously jumps off the ledge, the whole city becoming a permanent image in her brain. Her arms ached as she swung from building to building, her anxiety at its peak.

“Karen, can you check Honey’s location? Please?” Hazel asked as she swung herself to land on a sign of a movie theater.

“Locating honey,” Karen repeats back in her robotic voice. Within seconds, Karen speaks up once again to say: “Honey’s location is in the alleyway between Dunkin’ Donuts and Wo Kee Noodle on 168th Street. According to satellites, she is not alone.”

Hazel’s heart dropped at Karen’s words. She immediately began to follow the tracker within the inside of her mask, an awful sense of fear in her stomach.

“Karen, how many other people are there?” Hazel asked as she rounded a corner, using two web strings to tug herself up and onto the roof of the buildings.

“I am detecting two other cellular devices.”

“Shit,” Hazel muttered to herself as she ran down the rooftops on 166th to get to 168th.

It was past 7 pm, the sun was on the cusp of disappearing on the horizon. Hazel couldn’t bear the thought of you getting caught up in a mugging or having done something against your will. You knew how to handle yourself and she knew that.

But against two people? You were only one person.

Lingering in the darkness, Hazel peeked over the rooftop of the Woo Kee Noodle to see if you were in fact getting mugged or worse. From what she could see from the weird above angle, you were surrounded by her Aunt May and your Uncle Karter.

Guilt flowed through Hazel’s veins at the sight of you in a quite obviously distracted state as your uncle and her aunt tried to assure you that she was okay. You held your cup of noodles to your chest, stabbing into the cardboard cup with a worried look on your face.

Hazel couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like the worst person in the world. Seeing you like this was a slap to the face.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure Hazel’s gonna text or call soon saying she was up in that Stark Tower all day,” May rubbed your back to rest her head on yours.

“No, I know. I just… She’s been distant recently.” You admit, taking a bite of your noodles with a sigh. “Am I going crazy? Am I overthinking it?”

“Bee, I’m sure she’ll text or call you soon. Don’t stress it too much.” Karter nodded his head, his tone indifferent.

Hazel cursed at herself mentally, backing up slowly on the roof to not draw attention to herself. She sprints off of the roof to shoot her web towards the next tallest building to swing to your fire escape.

You, while eating your food with May and Karter, for some reason glanced up at the deep blue night sky, eyes squinting as you swore you saw a flash of blue and red. No, Spider-Woman kept more towards the city. God, you were driving yourself up the wall with Hazel being MIA.

“I think it’s time to go home, Bee,” Karter spoke up with a small grin.

You nod weakly in agreement, giving May the same smile. The three of you take the METRO to May’s apartment building first, sadly seeing no sign of Hazel. May gave you a kiss on the cheek and your uncle a friendly hug, assuring you that Hazel would be home soon and she would give her the scolding of a lifetime.

The whole bus ride home, you rest your head on your uncle’s shoulder as you blast music through your headphones. Once you arrived home, you tossed your empty box in the recycle bin and told Karter ‘goodnight’. You made a B-line to your bedroom as your headphones were still destroying your eardrums.

You twist your doorknob open and push the door open, looking down at your shoes as you peel them off. Your brows furrow as you feel a sudden breeze. Did you leave the window open?

You glance over at your bed, letting out a shout of shock when you see Hazel, panting slightly as she holds a weak smile on her lips. You moved your headphones off your head to rest on your neck and shoulders, staring at Hazel in disbelief.

“What the hell? You scared the shit out of me,” you held your rapidly beating chest, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For being distant, for not answering you whatsoever today. All of it.” Hazel blurted out, her leg bouncing nervously.

You shoot your eyes open at her apology, letting your bag slip off your shoulder onto the ground beside your door. You walk over to plop down on the bed beside her, sighing softly.

“I accept your apology, babe, but,” you suck in a deep breath, “why have you been so distant recently? Other than the Stark Internship because I know it’s something else, Hazel.”

Hazel stayed silent for a moment, her shoes and her heavy breathing were the only sounds that you could hear. She can’t. She wants to so so badly to ease your mind but Mr.Stark said she can’t risk your life.

“I… can’t tell you,” Hazel winced as she spoke, rubbing her hands over her face.

She can’t bring herself to look at you.

“You can’t tell me?” You repeat in confusion, a twinge of sadness in your voice.

“I-I want to tell you. I really do but I can’t. I’m sorry,” Hazel begs for you to just move on from the subject.

You stand up from your bed, shaking your head in disbelief. You let out a scoff at her words, a bubble of anger rising up to your throat.

“Hazel, that doesn’t ease my mind whatsoever. Do you understand how that makes me feel?” You try to keep your voice at a normal volume but this argument, just like PJ had pointed out earlier, felt all too familiar.

Hazel finally locked eyes with you, revealing her glazed-over blue eyes. You’ve never had such a serious conversation with her. It’s been smooth sailing from the first date you two went on and now you’re questioning if she even wants to be with you. Her words seemed genuine.

Seemed.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Hazel whispered.

“You need to go home, Haze. May is worried about you,” you respond, not knowing what to say either.

Hazel didn’t want to leave but what else was she to do? You were obviously upset and there wasn’t anything she could do. She couldn’t give you the one thing you wanted, which was the truth.

Hazel nods in understanding and you bite back the heavy tears that were threatening to fall from your tired eyes. She grabs her backpack that was placed next to your rug, giving you one last look. You avoided her gaze as she leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You shut your eyes at the gentle touch, the first tear falling from your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Hazel muttered one last time as she left your bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

The second you heard the front door lock shut, a heavy sob let your lips. The tears came pouring out of your eyes as you walked over to your bed. You were exhausted and didn’t even bother changing out of your outside clothes. Plopping down onto the soft mattress, you grabbed the knitted blanket that you kept at the end of your bed to lift over your body to shield yourself from the room.

“Bee?” You heard your uncle speak softly through the door.

“I’m fine,” you reply, sniffling and wiping your damp cheeks.

“Are you sure?” He pressed.

You shut your eyes as your bottom lip wobbled.

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now. Tomorrow, please?” Your voice cracked as you begged for him to leave you alone.

You listen to the sound of his footsteps receding, letting out a shaky breath of relief as you shut your heavy eyes. Minutes later, you fell asleep with a sense of sadness about the state of your relationship.

Hazel approached her apartment door with hot tears in her eyes, sniffling and wiping underneath her nose. She reached to pull her key out of her pocket only to find that it wasn't there. She lets out soft curses before knocking on the door a few times.

Seconds after, the door locks twist from the inside and squeak open. May stands at the doorway with a wave of silent anger.

“Hey Aunt May, I’m sorry. I lost my key and—”

“Save it. Get in and sit down,” May cuts her off and steps to the side as she jerks her thumb into the small apartment.

Hazel closes her mouth without question as she rushes into the house and sets her bag down on the couch. She sits on the left side, immediately twisting her middle finger band around her finger. May shut the door with a soft sigh before walking over to Hazel who had yet to look at her.

“What’s going on, huh?” May questions, standing in front of Hazel’s seated place on the couch. “I mean it. Don’t lie to me, okay? I’m not, you know, trying to attack you. I want to help you in whatever way I can, sweetheart.”

Hazel looked up as tears fell from her deep blue eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

“I think I’m screwing up my relationship,” Hazel admits.

May looks at her niece with understanding. She makes her over to the empty side of the couch to plop down next to Hazel with a soft sigh.

“Did you talk to her about it?” May questioned but Hazel let out a frustrated sound.

“That’s just it, May. I-I can’t talk to her about it. Mr.Stark told me not to tell anyone,” Hazel ran a hand over her face to also wipe away her tears.

May’s brows shot up at this, tilting her head and leaning forward to try and get a good look at Hazel’s face.

“Can you tell me about it?” May asked with hope.

Hazel shook her head as she sucked in a deep breath. Her aunt meant the world to her as did you and she couldn’t risk what could come out of either of you finding out.

“No one.”

May sighs as she messes with her chipping clear polish on her fingernails.

“Well, that sucks. I was really hoping you’d give in and tell me that you’re Spider-Woman by now.”

Hazel’s eyes shot open at her words but attempted to remain calm. She moved her hand from her face and let out a scoff at her words like she was making a ridiculous accusation.

“Spider-Woman? Yeah, that’s hilarious, May.” Hazel shook her head.

“Is it really?” May plastered on a knowing smile.

Hazel didn’t want to believe it. How could she have figured it out? Is she that obvious about her secret — or not-so-secret now— identity?

As if May could read her thoughts, she cleared her throat: “Harry accidentally told me after dinner.”

“Who’s Harry?” Hazel’s brows furrowed. How does he know about me being Spider-Woman, she thought.

May blinked at her niece before sighing and messing with her fingernails once again.

“Sorry, Happy told me over dinner.”

Hazel blankly stared at May with a mixture of confusion and amusement. She let out a soft laugh of disbelief.

“When are you and Happy going to ‘dinner’?” Hazel slyly grinned as she used air quotes over the word ‘dinner’.

“You…” May trailed off and pointed at Hazel. “You need to focus on what we were talking about before.”

Hazel kept a mental note to press her for questions later. She hadn’t been a mini-Avenger for long so when would they even have gone out?

“So…?” May egged Hazel on to finally just admit it.

“Yes. Okay, yes, it’s about me being Spider-Woman.” Hazel turned to her aunt with a loud sigh.

May stared at her with a gaped mouth in shock.

“Oh my god, what if I was working for, like, a bad guy and turned you in just now? What if I was wired?” May shook her head at her niece.

Hazel mimicked her dropped jaw but out of offense.

“May,” she whined and covered her face.

“Okay, okay, I’m teasing you. I’m sorry,” May chuckled as wrapped one of her thin arms around Hazel’s frame, placing a kiss on her temple. “Now, sweetheart, you really have to think about this, okay? I know and I can see how much you care about her. You need to think about if it really would be so bad if she knew. She might even be at ease to know the reason you’ve been instead of angry at you because you hide things from her. I can’t speak for her, you know, but if she’s as amazing as you know she is, I don’t think telling her the truth could be as harmful as you’re making it out to be.”

Hazel shut her eyes as she listened to May’s words against her temple, sinking into her embrace. May brought up the same reasons that Hazel had gone over in her head probably hundreds of times; every time she looked at your gorgeous smile, every time you spoke to her, just being around you caused an itch in her throat to just blurt out that she was Spider-Woman.

Every single day has been mental torture. Has it been the same for you?

“What if Mr.Stark finds out and I lose everything?” Hazel whispered as she snuggled her shoulder.

“Well, then he was never worth it. You’re a smart girl, Hazel. I know that. Your mom knew that. Your dad knew that. My future daughter-in-law knows that,” Hazel softly chuckled at that, a pained expression on her face at the mention of her parents.

“I know you’ll do the right thing,” May finalizes, nodding with certainty.

Hazel nodded at her words, wiping away the tears that managed to escape from her drowsy eyes.

She hopes she’s able to do this the right way and to not hurt you more in the process.

TAG-LIST: @atyourmerci @mih11 @camilleee222 @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @alesbianperson @slaughtercarrie @cllhan @ahdbodhr @ih8chickentenders @bluerazberrystarz @sc0ttstre3ted @ilovevampires99 @sam-cooperrr @guzzlingplastic111 @rubycruzin4abruzin @cyberchomp @lucicorn72 @angelsknifeprty @lamolaine @cinnamonmilf

[xhoneygirlxx]

because work has been kicking my ass and i'm a wh*re for virgin Eddie, here is this small little blurb as a treat :)

virgin!eddie x reader (reader and Eddie are both in their 20s)

rated r: smut, oral receiving, swearing, mentions of sex. (18+ minors GO AWAY)

You and Eddie sit on the small couch in his trailer living room, the blue glow from the tv highlighting him in the most beautiful way. The eerie music of Halloween plays through the tinny speakers, the soundtrack of your night. Although the metal head has watched this movie more than he can count, you can’t help but notice your best friend has become instantly tense the moment Lynda’s tits appear on screen.

Eddie’s virginity wasn’t a secret in your friendship, he’d constantly asked you for advice on how to please his partner when the day finally came, but watching him squirm in his seat at glimpse of bare tits makes your heart melt. To be completely honest you had a crush on your bestie for as long as you can remember, to be fair who wouldn’t? You’ve thought about him a few times when your hands were in between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt.

You’ve thought about offering taking Eddie’s virginity but you would hate to take something so special from him especially when it should be with someone he loves. So you kept your offer to yourself, helped him with any advice he’d asked, and remained supportive in his search of a partner.

The continuous bounce of Eddie’s knee pulls your attention from the screen, too entertained by his constant fidgeting. The scene that got him so riled up as now ended with the pretty blonde being killed but his growing length beneath his jeans continues to strain against the unforgiving material.

Even though it’s selfish and you’re dying to know what he hides beneath his pants, you give in and ask him the one thing you’ve been dying to ever since the two of you turned eighteen.

“Eds, are you good?” Leaning forward, you curl your legs underneath your bum.

His head snaps towards you, eyes bugged out and cheeks flushed. “M-me? Yeah I’m fine, m’good.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, not only trying to convince you of his words but also himself. Your face falls, mouth pulling into a straight line clearly unamused by his horrible acting.

“Okay let’s try this again but this time tell me the truth,” You say sternly, “are you good?”

Letting his head fall to the back of the couch, Eddie closed his eyes and lets out a harsh breath. “I’m just, the movie it’s,”

The nervousness in his voice won’t let him finish his sentence, every thought in his brain melting together in a bowl of mumbo jumbo.

Placing your hand on his thigh, a little higher than usual, you look up at him from under your lashes. “Her tits got you all hot and bothered, is that it?”

Snapping his eyes open down at you, he stares at you as you spoke in a completely different language. Having too much fun with his blush intensifying, you lean forward just a bit more putting your cleavage on display.

“It hurts, huh? Feels like you’re gonna burst at any moment.” Your voice is sweet like sugar, dripping with an intoxicating amount of intensity that Eddie’s never heard.

His hands that sit by his sides clench and unclench, jitters pouring through him at an alarming rate. Too dumb to speak he nods, curls bouncing with every motion.

“Awe baby, s’okay,” you coo as you hook your legs over his thighs, “if you want I can make it all better. Want me to kiss it better?”

Eddie stares at you unblinkingly, mouth parted slightly in awe. Again he nods but this time you tsk at him, shaking your head back and forth in disapproval.

“I asked you a question, honey, I need your words. Do you want me to make it better?” You pout your lips at him and he swallows harshly.

“Please make it better, hurts s’bad.” He slurs, already drunk off your touch without even really feeling it just yet.

“Such a good boy begging me so nicely.”

Slowly you move forward, capturing his soft lips into a needy kiss. Despite being a virgin Eddie does a good job kissing you, not going overboard with too much tongue or sloppy movements.

Taking a chance and wanting to take care of the growing pulse that grows in between your thighs, you begin to rock hesitantly over his hard length. The intense spark you feel jolting through your veins is verbalized with the wanton moan that rips from Eddie’s throat and vibrates into your mouth.

Picking up your momentum you can’t help but roll your eyes into the back of your head, the rough material of his jeans adding extra intensity to your pulsing bundle of nerves. Eddie isn't any better, his face is flushed red, bangs sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat that beads from his hairline, and his chest rattles from all the moaning sobs that leave his open mouth.

Opening your eyes you can't help but snort at Eddie's awkward hand placement. They hang in the air, itching to grasp at something but too nervous to give into the temptation.

Letting your hips come to a complete stop, you gently cup his cheeks in the palm of your hand. Hazy eyes open and look right at you, a thousand tiny specks of glitter shimmer in the big brown pools, sweeping you right into his vortex.

"Eddie honey, do you want to touch me?" Despite the dryness that lingers in your mouth, your words drip and saturate the boy beneath you in love and care.

"If that's okay with you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. So like if you don't want me to I won't-" You stop his rambles with a quick kiss to his lips.

Pulling away with a small giggle you look at him the same way he's looking at you, disgustingly in awe.

"I want you to touch me, Eddie. Bet your hands would feel so nice on me, so big and strong."

With the thought of it makes your underwear even wetter, so wet that you know when you get off his lap there will be a big wet stain. Not wanting to wait any longer you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the pretty white lace bra that holds your breast into place.

Eddie looks something like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with unspoken words that get caught in his throat. Although it's funny watching your best friend so speechless, you can't help but adore his childlike wonder.

Gripping his wrists in your hand and pull them towards you placing them on your tits, squeezing his fingers around the doughy flesh causing you to hiss in satisfaction.

"F-fuck you're so hot." It's breathless when it comes out.

Eddie follows your lead, fondling your round breasts in the palms of his big hands. The feeling of his grip causes you to resume your motions, grinding harder on his lap trying to relieve the hammering thump in between your legs.

You remember in the fog of your lust that this wasn't about you, it was in fact about your best friend who is currently trying to hold himself together.

Again you stop your movements, pulling his hands from your lace covered chest, and move from his lap.

"W-wait, what's- what are you doing?" Eddie is more than frantic, he's completely distraught with the absence of your weight on his legs.

Pinching his cheek sweetly, you push his legs apart to create enough room for yourself. Sinking to your knees, you move into the space you've created for yourself.

"I'm doing what I said I was going to do, I'm going to kiss it better." You drag your nails up his jean covered thighs, gazing up at him with doe eyes acting as if you aren't making one of his dreams come true.

"Yeah yeah, fuck okay." Babbling like an idiot, Eddie stares at you completely shocked as if you didn't promise this to him earlier.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you wait for him to catch on to what you're waiting for. It doesn't hit him until you clear your throat and point at the handcuff belt that hold his jeans in place.

"Oh shit, right. Let me just get these off." Going as fast as his shaking hands will allow him, he goes to undo his belt and push his pants just below his balls.

His cock bounces from their confines, hitting his tee shirt covered navel with a small thud. You can't help but gawk at the sight of him. Eddie's packing more than you ever imagined, long and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside. The tip is a pretty pink shade that shines from the pearls of precum that dripples from the slit.

Your mouth fills with saliva just from the sight alone. The dark brown thatch of curls that sit at the base match the hair on his heavy balls. You weren't someone who found genitalia appetizing but man oh man was did your best friend's look good enough to eat.

The small silence that settled between you two has clearly made Eddie anxious. His chocolate brown eyes look anywhere but you and the thick chunky rings that sit on his fingers have become his clear fascination, twisting them around and around his thick digits.

Not wanting him to sit with his thoughts any longer, you lean up enough to capture his kiss bitten lips in a passionate kiss. This time it's all teeth and tongue, spit swapping between the two of you.

When you both pull away you wish you could continue kissing him, fuck the oxygen that you need all you want is Eddie.

Sitting back down on your knees, you let spit dripple down onto his stiff shaft. Clasping your hand around him you begin to jerk him off slowly, not wanting the moment to be over fast.

Eddie on the other hand is fighting for his life, lip pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows pinching together. You drink it up like a plant in the middle of a drought.

"You're s'pretty, Eds and your cock, fuck it's so pretty too." You coo, to prove your point you press kisses up and down his length.

"Mmm s-shit, your ha- your hand feels so good." Eddie's voice is completely strained, his jugular vein pocking out every once and a while.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Eddie's nearing the end, the shaking and tensing of his thighs a clear sign. Wanting him to experience it all, you envelope the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and licking along the slit to collect the salty bead of pre that beads out of it.

Moving your mouth lower, you take him halfway into your mouth and allow your hand to jerk off whatever you can't take. The hand that braces itself on his thigh snakes its way to the heavy sack that sits just below his cock, kneading it in the palm of your hand gently.

Without needing instruction Eddie's hand finds it's way to your head, gripping your hair at the scalp and pulling out it with vigor. The pain and arousal that sparks within you causes you to moan around him, making him sob out in ecstasy.

"F-uh, oh don't stop I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum!"

Moving your head as fast as you can, you move to the tip to avoid chocking on the salty release. Still pumping your hand up and down on his cock you collect his warm seed in your mouth, letting it pool on your tongue.

Above you Eddie is a screaming mess, blabbing nonsense and groaning loudly. To no one's surprise Eddie cums and he cums a lot, so much so that it starts to dripple out the sides of your mouth with the string of your spit.

Once his breath returns to his lungs and his grip loosens on your hair, you let him fall out of your mouth with a lewd pop. When your eyes make eye contact with his own, you open your mouth to show him the pearly white of his release that sits on your pink tongue. Closing your mouth and swallowing it with a loud hum, you open your eyes to see Eddie completely gobsmack.

"Jesus sweetheart, you can't do shit like that unless you want me to get hard again." He says with an airy laugh.

You take his words as a threat, one that you'd be stupid not to take with the way your pussy flutters in need.

"Who said I was done, Munson?"

[sim0nril3y]

hii, I LOVEE your Simon x civilian! reader series!

I was thinking maybe of Simon finding readers scketchbook and discovering that it s pretty much filled with him? maybe reader has some drawings of a favourite picture of the both of them that s also colored with little hearts?

please and thank you! <3

Thank you thank this is actually so CUTE! I absolutely LOVE the thought of this, like I’ve actually be dreaming about it!

There would be times when Simon would catch you watching him. Like, he would be making a tea, putting the dishes away or sharing out the take-away you’d ordered between a couple plates when he’d feel that eery sense of being watched. Glancing over his shoulder he’d spot you just observing him with great interest, sketchpad in your lap and the moment Simon was aware your eyes would dart away and continue to focus on your pencil against the page.

You had been so happy to show him so much of your art, but that sketchbook in particular was on that you had very clearly kept to yourself. Each time he would pick it up you were overly protective and practically snatched it back, hiding it behind the sofa or throwing it into a drawer. “You hiding something from me?” He quirked a brow and you pressed a soft hand to your chest and replied. “Not at all. Cuppa?” You always seemed to pull his attention away quick enough that he’d drop it.

It was a few nights later that Simon spotted that sketchbook again left vulnerably on your coffee table whilst snoozed, cutely curled up on the sofa beside him, head resting on the arm of the chair whilst your feet rest happily in his lap. His eyes flicked from the football game, back to the book and then back to the game. Fuck it. He leaned forward and snatched it from the table, carefully beginning to flick through the first couple of pages.

It was as he had expected, just a few innocent sketches of flowers, all different types that he certainly couldn’t name. He almost placed the book back down before turning to the next page and feeling his face becoming very warm. Your interests for sketching had changed away from pretty flowers to sketches of him. They were all him doing very mundane and candid things. There was one of him sipping tea from a rather fancy cup, then another of him lifting his heavy dumbbells, another of him running his hands through his hair Simon noticed you’d taken great detail to sketch his hands, another small sketch of him pulling off his shirt and somehow, you’d manage to capture every little scar that littered his body.

As he continued to explore the book Simon noticed that there were some sketches of the two of you. He remembered when you had forced him to take a photo together on a woodland walk, the first picture taken of him for years but he was willing to do it to make you happy. You had taken time sketching that photo, taking in every little detail, even the disdain on his face. He should have given you a smile that day, but instead he just looked pissed whilst you beamed at the camera. His little ray of sunshine. God, he fucking loved you.

“What are you doing?” From beside him your voice was full of surprise before quickly attempting to steal the book from him but he held it up from your reach. “I was looking at your sketches, love.” He mentioned, laughing as you clambered onto his lap attempting to grab it from his greedy hands. “You wanna explain them to me?”

A quiet sigh of embarrassment fell from your lips before you stopped trying to snatch the book from him and just sunk into his body, burying your face in his throat whilst he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I like them.” He whispered into your ear. “I’m not mad, love.” He assured you softly, rubbing small circles into your face. “I just like drawing you, Si.” You whispered into his throat and he chuckled. “You’re so handsome.” He felt heat rising on his cheeks then. “And so strong… I see you doing all these really normal things and… and I just need to put it on paper… I don’t know…”

“My sweet girl…” He chuckled rubbing your back and placing the sketchbook beside him. “Don’t hide things like this from me, love…” He placed a few small kisses to the side of your face. “You don’t think I’m some obsessed weirdo?” You whined softly and he chuckled and shook his head. “I love that you’re obsessed.” He growled, quickly moving you to be flat back on the sofa with him looming above you. “Now, let me show you how much more I’m obsessed with you~”

Masterlist | Ask | 08-09-2023