#or stealing like-shaped areas to use

[sweetromanova]

Operation Obedience: Yelena's Home

Natasha Romanoff x Dog Handler!Reader

Summary: It starts with chaos in a pink harness and a trainer who makes obedience sound like a love language. It ends with Natasha finally understanding what it means to be chosen and choosing to stay.

It’s early afternoon when Yelena arrives at the compound. Armed with black sunglasses, platform combat boots, iced coffee in hand and an attitude like she never left.

She punches in the code to Natasha’s apartment door and steps inside with her usual lack of subtlety.

“Fanny! Mama’s home!”

Fanny, shockingly, is not wreaking havoc.

Instead, she’s sitting primly in the center of the living room rug, gently licking a treat stuffed lick mat shaped like a bone. Her tail wags once in greeting but she doesn’t move.

Yelena stares. “Are you… meditating?”

Fanny continues licking with intense focus, as if Yelena wasn’t stood there. She crouches beside her, inspecting the calm posture like it’s suspicious.

“Okay, what the hell did she do to you? Are you… fixed? Did Natasha fix you?”

No answer, just methodical licking.

Yelena narrows her eyes. “She doesn’t even like dogs. There is no way.”

She glances toward the hallway, looking for any sign of her sister. “You know what? I bet she forgot you were even here. Wouldn’t be the first time. I leave you with her for one month and suddenly you’re some kind of zombie. Disrespectful. Unbelievable.”

Muttering, she stands and heads down the hallway. “Natasha, I swear if you’ve been leaving her to rot while you go off doing your emotionally constipated lone wolf Avenger thing, I’m gonna-“ 

She pushes open the bedroom door and stops dead in her tracks.

For one, very long, very scarring second, the room is very obviously occupied. You are there. Natasha is there. There is skin. There is positioning. Then there is a very fast grab for sheets.

“-OH MY GOD?!” Yelena shrieks, spinning around so fast she nearly throws her drink. “MY EYES! MY EYES! MY SOUL!”

Inside the room, muffled chaos begins, scrambling, a thump, someone curses. Fanny barks helpfully from the living room.

“THIS IS WHERE MY DOG SLEEPS!” She wails. “HER CRATE IS IN THERE. SHE HAD A BONE IN THERE-“

Natasha’s voice echoes behind the hysterical rambling. “She doesn’t even use the crate!”

“I USED THAT BEDROOM IN 2019!”

“Oh my god, please stop talking-“ Yelena storms back into the living room, holding a pillow in front of her face like a shield.

“This is betrayal. I gave you my dog. My trust! And you- you-” She gags dramatically. “You’re rolling around with-“

Natasha emerges, now in a tank top and very rumpled sweatpants, looking unbothered but faintly flushed.

You trail behind, mortified but trying to smile politely.

“Yelena.” Natasha says, tone warning.

Yelena doesn’t even look at her.

She zeroes in on you. “You! You’re the one who fixed Fanny!” She says, squinting. “The dog whisperer. The one with the leash and the face and the- ugh- soft energy.”

You smile awkwardly. “Hi.”

Yelena blinks at you.

Then sighs dramatically. “Fine. You’re hot. I get it. But if you break her heart, I will steal Fanny back and set her loose in your sock drawer.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

Fanny walks into the room, sits next to you and rests her head on your leg. Yelena watches it happen, throws her hands up, and mutters.

“Disgusting. I’m the third wheel to my own dog.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

It’s late when Natasha finally gets home.

She’s sore, annoyed and just slightly dusty from a sparring match that went longer and harder than planned. Some junior agents still think they can go toe-to-toe with a legend. She’s fine with that. What she’s not fine with is how much paperwork came afterward from the medical bay.

She keys into her apartment, drops her bag by the door and toes off her boots with a sigh.

Silence. Too much silence.

“Hello?” She calls out.

From the living room, she hears some faint muffled snickering.

Natasha freezes, her eyes narrow as she zones in on the area.

“What are you doing-“

She rounds the corner and sees you and Yelena crouched on the couch like co-conspirators, both red-faced and trying very hard not to burst into laughter. 

Fanny is in the middle of the room, sitting upright, wearing tiny pink goggles and what looks suspiciously like a baby-sized tactical harness.

Natasha blinks.

“No.”

Yelena grins. “Yes.”

You grin wider. “She’s operational.”

“Operational for what?”

Yelena claps her hands once. “Go time, Fanny!”

Fanny perks up, turns sharply and trots over to the fridge, opens it with a small handle tied to the bottom and retrieves a can of beer. She trots back, very proud and drops it directly in front of Natasha like she’s just defused a bomb.

Natasha stares down.

Then at you.

Then back at Fanny.

“You taught the dog to do fridge recon?”

“Technically. And she’s also trained in ‘emotional sabotage’.” Yelena adds, cheerfully.

“Explain.”

You cover your mouth, laughing. “Okay, you have to say ‘I’m sad’.”

Natasha raises a brow. “What?”

“Trust us!" Yelena says.

Natasha sighs. “Fine. I’m sad.”

Fanny immediately lets out the most theatrically tragic howl known to dogkind then flops to the ground, rolls over and dramatically places one paw over her snout.

Natasha blinks. Hard.

“What the actual-”

“It’s mutual emotional vulnerability conditioning.” Yelena explains, acting like she’s a K-9 expert herself. “Very advanced.”

You’re cackling now, halfway buried in a throw pillow. Fanny looks so pleased with herself.

Natasha exhales through her nose, pinches the bridge.

“I leave you two alone for one afternoon.”

“You’re welcome.” You and Yelena say in unison, sweet as pie.

Natasha glares at Yelena then at you before swiping the beer from the floor.

“She is kind of a genius.”

Yelena bows. “She learned from the best.”

Natasha walks over and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Not talking about the dog.”

Yelena lets out a theatrical gag. “I’m going to be sick. I want a new family.”

“You’re the one who invited yourself over for three nights.”

“For the dog!” Fanny barks happily and jumps on the couch between you both, a paw on each of your thighs. "Melina hates having Fanny in the house so it's easier to see her here."

You settle back into the cushions with Natasha settling beside you, beer in her hand, she offers you a sip as you both listen to Yelena threatening to move to the Middle East ‘where PDA is illegal’. She’s pacing near the kitchen like a madman.

“This is disgusting! You’ve gone soft! Domestic! Boring! Where’s the Natasha who used to threaten to cut my hair in my sleep?”

“She’s tired. She’s happy. She has her sister’s dog who brings her beer. Life’s good.”

Yelena narrows her eyes. “You used to hate beer.”

“Yeah but my girlfriend likes it so now I deal with it.”

The room goes still for one glorious second.

You blink.

She blinks.

Yelena freezes mid-sip of her iced coffee.

“…Girlfriend?” You turn to Natasha, eyes huge.

“You called me your girlfriend.” You whisper, stunned. “You- you said it first.”

Natasha’s mouth opens like she’s going to deny it, or roll it back, or make a joke. 

But then she meets your eyes and suddenly, she doesn’t want to take it back.

“Yeah.” She says, softly. “I did.”

You smile, full and wide and suddenly neither of you can pretend anymore.

You grab her collar and pull her in for a kiss, all soft grinning lips and gentle hands, months of tension dissolving into finally. Fanny’s yaps in excitement, shooting up off the couch so she doesn’t get squished.

“OH COME ON!” Yelena cries from the kitchen, throwing a pillow in your general direction. “I LIVE HERE! Kind of!”

You and Natasha don’t stop.

Fanny, in response, does exactly what she’s trained to do when she hears distress.

She lets out her most tragic howl of woe and flops dramatically at Yelena’s feet, whining and pawing at the floor like she’s in mourning.

“WHAT?! NO!” Yelena shouts. “Do not turn my own dog against me!”

Fanny continues whimpering. “This is emotional warfare.” Yelena mutters. “I hope you both choke on each other’s happiness... or tongue, whichever works.”

You finally break the kiss, laughing breathlessly into Natasha’s shoulder.

“We broke her.” You mumble, smiling into Natasha’s own.

“She’ll be fine.” Natasha says, tucking her nose against your cheek. “She loves being dramatic. It’s her cardio.”

You lean back, still curled beside her while Yelena slumps onto the couch across from you, defeated.

Fanny promptly climbs into her lap and she gives in, petting her once and sighs.

“She was never my dog.” Yelena mutters.

Natasha smirks. “No. She just loves being a drama queen. Like you.”

You glance at her, catching that smile, still warm from the kiss, the slip and the fact that she hasn’t corrected it once.

“So… girlfriend?”

She squeezes your hand.

“Yeah. If you want.”

“I really want.”

Yelena groans.

Fanny howls again.

[cazshmere]

Destiny Matrix: The Energy You Must Embody for Genuine Happiness

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🦂

The center number in the Destiny Matrix chart represents our core energy—the Major Arcana card that has the most profound influence on your life. This number reflects the key lessons and dominant themes we must embrace to feel aligned with your destiny. It acts as our guiding force, shaping our experiences and guiding us toward fulfillment and balance

link to calculate your chart : click here

1 – The Magician 🪄

Key Themes: Manifestation, creativity, willpower

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Start a vision board to focus on your goals.

Practice daily affirmations to boost self-belief.

Learn a new skill or hobby to channel creativity.

Set small, actionable goals and track progress.

Use mindfulness to align actions with intentions.

2 – The High Priestess 🧚‍♀️

Key Themes: Intuition, inner wisdom, mystery

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Meditate daily to develop inner awareness.

Keep a dream journal to reflect on subconscious messages.

Trust your gut feelings, especially in decision-making.

Reduce distractions and spend time in quiet reflection.

Engage in mystical practices (tarot, astrology) to deepen insight.

3 – The Empress 👸🏽

Key Themes: Nurturing, creativity, abundance

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Create a peaceful, beautiful space at home.

Spend time in nature to feel grounded.

Cook or garden to nurture creativity and growth.

Support loved ones emotionally and offer care.

Indulge in self-care rituals to cultivate self-love.

4 – The Emperor 🤴🏽

Key Themes: Authority, structure, stability

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Set a clear routine or daily structure.

Take on leadership roles, even in small situations.

Establish long-term goals for your personal and professional life.

Lead with confidence but remain fair and balanced.

Be disciplined in areas like finances or personal development.

5 – The Hierophant 🪽

Key Themes: Tradition, spiritual guidance, teaching

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Explore cultural or spiritual traditions and integrate them into your life.

Mentor others and share knowledge where you're experienced.

Reflect on core values and how they guide your decisions.

Study spiritual texts or philosophies to deepen understanding.

Join a spiritual or community group to foster connection.

6 – The Lovers 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻

Key Themes: Connection, choice, harmony

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Strengthen communication in your relationships.

Make decisions that reflect your values and desires.

Foster deeper emotional and spiritual connections with loved ones.

Practice compromise and understanding in conflicts.

Focus on self-love as the foundation for harmonious relationships.

7 – The Chariot 🚀

Key Themes: Determination, control, success

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Set clear goals and take steady steps to achieve them.

Stay focused on your objectives despite distractions.

Practice emotional self-regulation in stressful situations.

Celebrate victories, no matter how small.

Take charge of your life path with confidence and direction.

8 – Strength 💪🏽

Key Themes: Inner strength, compassion, patience

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Practice self-compassion and be gentle with yourself in difficult times.

Engage in physical or emotional activities that build resilience, like exercise or meditation.

Offer kindness and understanding to others, even when it's challenging.

Be patient with long-term goals or emotional healing.

Cultivate a quiet inner strength by facing fears calmly.

9 - The Hermit 🐚

Key Themes: Solitude, inner reflection, wisdom

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Take time away from social media and external influences to reflect.

Spend time alone in nature or a quiet space to recharge.

Journal regularly to explore your inner world.

Read books or engage in study to deepen self-awareness.

Offer wisdom to others from a place of experience.

10 – The Wheel of Fortune 🍀

Key Themes: Change, destiny, cycles

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Be flexible and open to unexpected changes in life.

Reflect on the cycles of your past to understand patterns.

Trust in the flow of life, knowing that ups and downs are part of growth.

Release the need for control and go with the flow.

Embrace new opportunities, even if they come unexpectedly.

11 – Justice ⚖️

Key Themes: Fairness, truth, balance

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Be mindful of making fair and just decisions.

Take responsibility for your actions and decisions.

Seek balance in all areas of life—work, relationships, health.

Practice fairness in your interactions with others.

Be truthful with yourself and others in difficult situations.

12 – The Hanged Man 🙃

Key Themes: Surrender, new perspective, patience

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Let go of control and allow things to unfold in their own time.

Reflect on challenging situations from a new perspective.

Embrace stillness and patience during times of uncertainty.

Be open to changing your approach if things aren't working.

Trust that waiting or setbacks often lead to growth.

13 – Death 🦋

Key Themes: Transformation, endings, renewal

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Let go of old habits, relationships, or situations that no longer serve you.

View endings as opportunities for new beginnings.

Embrace change and transformation, even if it feels uncomfortable.

Focus on personal growth during times of transition.

Practice gratitude for past experiences, even as you move forward.

14 – Temperance 🕊️

Key Themes: Balance, harmony, moderation

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Practice moderation in areas of excess, such as work or indulgence.

Focus on finding balance between different areas of your life.

Meditate or engage in mindfulness practices to foster inner harmony.

Be patient with yourself and others, especially during conflicts.

Seek holistic well-being by integrating mind, body, and spirit.

15 – The Devil 👺

Key Themes: Desire, limitation, mastery

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Acknowledge your desires and examine whether they serve your higher self.

Confront limiting beliefs or unhealthy habits that hold you back.

Practice discipline in areas where you feel tempted or out of control.

Seek balance between enjoying life’s pleasures and maintaining healthy boundaries.

Embrace your shadow side without judgment, using it for personal growth.

16 – The Tower 🗼⚡️

Key Themes: Sudden change, upheaval, revelation

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Accept that sudden changes may be necessary for personal growth.

Let go of outdated beliefs or structures that no longer serve you.

Use challenging situations as opportunities for deep transformation.

Rebuild stronger foundations after a period of upheaval.

Trust that chaos often clears the way for new opportunities.

17 – The Star ⭐️

Key Themes: Hope, inspiration, healing

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Focus on healing emotional wounds and nurturing your inner light.

Cultivate hope and positivity in difficult times.

Align with your higher purpose and trust the universe’s guidance.

Inspire others by staying true to your authentic self.

Practice self-care and healing routines that nourish your body and soul.

18 – The Moon 🌙

Key Themes: Intuition, illusion, subconscious

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Explore your subconscious through dreams, journaling, or meditation.

Be mindful of illusions or false perceptions in your life.

Trust your intuition, especially when clarity is lacking.

Embrace uncertainty and mystery without fear.

Seek emotional clarity through inner reflection.

19 – The Sun ☀️

Key Themes: Joy, vitality, positivity

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Celebrate your successes and share your joy with others.

Embrace childlike wonder and enthusiasm in your daily life.

Focus on positive thinking, even in difficult times.

Connect with nature or physical activities to boost your vitality.

Shine your light on others, offering support and positivity.

20 – Judgement 📜

Key Themes: Rebirth, accountability, higher calling

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Reflect on your past actions and learn from them.

Take responsibility for your choices and their consequences.

Seek out your higher calling and align your life with it.

Focus on personal and spiritual rebirth through self-awareness.

Make amends or seek closure where necessary to move forward.

21 – The World 🌍

Key Themes: Completion, wholeness, fulfilment

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Celebrate the completion of major life milestones.

Recognize your personal growth and sense of wholeness.

Integrate lessons from all areas of life into your being.

Embrace your interconnectedness with the world around you.

Seek new opportunities for growth and expansion, even after reaching your goals.

22 – The Fool 🤪

Key Themes: New beginnings, trust, adventure

Ways to Embody This Energy:

Take risks and embrace new opportunities with optimism.

Trust the universe to guide you, even when the path is unclear.

Live in the present moment and enjoy life’s adventures.

Be open to unexpected experiences and possibilities.

Follow your instincts, even if it means stepping into the unknown.

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Lads guys with you in Ikea

Inspired by my very own trip to that place

Zayne

- Pre-Ikea Prep: He'd have meticuously organized list, possibly even a scaled-down floor plan he subtly memorized online to optimize your route.

- In the showroom: Zayne moves through the store with calm purpose. He's practical, checking the stability of furniture, anlyzing the materials, and considering the longevity. He'll quietly point out good deals or practical solutions you might miss.

- With you: He's incredibly attentive. "Are you getting tired? We can sit for a bit." He'll gently guide you through crowds, always keeping a hand on your lower back or shoulder. If you fall in love with a display, he'll immediately check its availability and dimensioning for you.

- The food court: Insists on proper meal. You're definitely getting the meatballs and lingonberry jam. He'll make sure you have enough water and perhaps a coffee for himself. He might share a subtle, knowing smile with you as he observes other overwhelmed couples.

- Assembly: This is where Dr. Zayne shines. His steady hands, patience, and ability to follow complex diagrams are unmatched. He'll lay out all the pieces, sort the screws, and work with surgical precision. He might let you do the easy parts, but he'll take lead on anything tricky.

"Efficiently done. Now, let's ensure your comfort is just as prioritized."

Rafayel

- Pre IKEA prep: "List? Nah, where's the fun in that? We'll just see what calls to us!" He's all about the experience, not the strict plan.

- In the showroom: This is his playground. He's trying out every couch {"Is this nap approved?"), pretending to hide in wardrobes, and teasing you by sitting on display toilets. He's probably terrible at navigating the maze and will happily get lost with you, finding it great excuse to hold your hand or pull you into a quiet corner for a quick kiss.

- With you: He's constantly making you laugh. "Look, a mini version of you!" (Holding a rat plushie). He'll encourage all your impulse buys. He might dissapear for a moment and then pop out from behind a bookshelf making you jump.

- The food court: He's trying a bit of everything and probably stealing your meatballs. He'll convince you to get a dessert you didn't plan on, then insist on sharing it. He'll lean across the table, whispering silly observations about other shoppers.

- A chaotic but suprisingly effective process. He'll skip ahead on instructions, use the wrong tool, then laughs it off. He's suprisingly good with his hands, but it's more intuition than instruction following. He'll definitely blame the extra screw on the manufacturer.

"Well...that was exhausting. How about we test the new couch cutie? You get the popcorn, I choose the movie."

Xavier

- Pre IKEA prep: He'd prefer a detailed mission brief, but the chaos of IKEA is a new kind of battlefield. He'd agree to go because you wanted to, but he's already bracing himself.

- In the showroom: He's overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people and choices, but he won't show it much. He walks with steady protective presence beside you, subtly shielding you from the crush of the crowd and making sure no one bumps into you. Eventually, he falls asleep on one of the couches or beds, you leave him there because it's easier to get things done.

- With you: He's quietly supportive. If you loook at something twice, he'll ask, "Do you like it? We can get it." He's not one for small talk with sales associates but will get straight to the point if you have a question. He'll offer his arm and hand in crowded areas, a firm, reassuring anchor.

- The food court: He'll make sure you're seated somewhere relatively quiet, away from main flow of the traffic. He might watch other families with quiet intensity, wondering about human domesticity.

- Assembly: He approaches it like a tactical exercise. He reads every single instruction, analyzes the diagrams and sorts pieces by shape. He might get frustrated if a piece doesn't fit or the diagram is too vague, grumbling the whole time, but he won't quit until it's done.

- Aftermath: A deep sigh of relief once the flat pack is conquered. He'll then insist on ordering takeout because you're too tired to cook after that.

(After successfully assembling a tricky piece) "It serves it's purpose. Are you happy?"

Sylus

- Pre-IKEA prep: He has no previous experiences with places like these, everything in his base was carpenter-made and ordered. The only thing he knows is that it's a furniture store. He's thoroughly unprepared what awaits him there.

- In the showroom: He's not looking at the furniture as much as he's studying the people. He observes the flow of people, the interactions of couples, the children screaming in play areas. He'll touch all the materials and analyzes the composition of the arrangements.

- With you: He's utterly fascinated by your reactions. He'll ask you to explain why a particular lamp sparks joy, or why you need exactly that type of cushion. He might subtly use his powers to glide through the crowds or locate a specific item you need without seeming to try. He might also accidentaly levitate an Allen key for a moment if he's thinking too hard.

- The food court: Nothing for his gourmet palate, but if you want to stuff your mouth full of meatballs then he'll buy you all of them. He buys you princess cake and smirks at your deadpan look you give him.

"You have a knack for turning a simple room into a cozy haven. Maybe I'll let you redecorate my base. Don't get so excited, I said maybe."

[blakeswritingimagines]

Kink List With Luke Hughes

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Luke doesn’t like to sleep after the fun is over, so he’ll usually spend the aftercare session getting you something to drink or a towel to clean up with. Then he’ll usually start to talk about trivial subjects until the next round.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part of himself would have to be his torso, being in really good shape and toned. His favorite part of your body is the neck and collarbone area, for no real reason other than he finds it really hot.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He usually prefers to cum on your stomach, back, or face (if you let him). He has a moderate amount, but it’s still a little more than average.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He occasionally steals a pair of your panties when you’re not looking to keep for later use and has a whole collection that he hides in a secret compartment underneath his bed.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s been with a few partners before but wouldn’t consider himself an expert. He’s not sure how good he is at it, and secretly has an insecurity about his capabilities at times. He mainly focuses on what you like and what you’re into, and bases his actions off of that. He learns quickly.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He loves any position where he can see your face, but he also loves to be on top and pin your knees or thighs down next to your chest. His top three positions would be missionary, cowgirl, and doggy.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

This one’s kind of a mixture. He likes to keep things lighthearted and doesn’t really take things too seriously, but he’s not a complete goofball. He’ll definitely crack a few stupid jokes and give you a stupid cocky grin.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s clean shaven down there, and has pretty short blond hair. He’s not that naturally hairy, and if his hair would grow out it would be dirty blond and somewhat wavy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s not really that romantic of a guy, but he does enjoy the moments of passion and intimacy he has with you. It’s one of the only times his demeanor is somewhat softer, and he’ll usually be kissing or cuddling you between rounds.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it in the shower, mainly as a way to pass the time sometimes. He doesn’t do it that often, but when he starts it’s usually for a while. Occasionally, he’ll look at your pictures on his phone while he does it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He doesn’t have any very specific or unusual kinks, but he does enjoy having a more dominant role in the bedroom, pinning your wrists down, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling that kind of stuff.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He likes to do it on his bed, but he’s not opposed to doing it in other places. Any place out of the public eye that’s away from prying eyes. The thought of doing it at his locker room at the arena has popped into his head at times, but he’s not sure if he’d ever be willing to try it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in one of his baggy hockey hoodies is a huge turn on for him. If you wear short shorts under it, it drives him crazy. Otherwise, it would be dirty talk.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s not at all into anything too extreme, like choking, impact play, gags etc. He’s not into the whole pain stuff. A big turn-off is doing anything too public, he’s way too scared of being seen.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He’ll pretty much always prefer to be on the receiving end. He does occasionally like to give, mainly because he knows he’s good at it and it’s a fun way to tease you. He’s not so skilled at it, but he’s definitely pretty decent at it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow and sensual, but doesn’t usually let that last long because he gets impatient. His usual pace is fast and not exactly rough, but it definitely isn’t gentle either.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not very patient, so he’s fond of the concept of quickies most of the time, but that doesn’t mean he’ll always rush. He’ll sometimes drag things out and tease you if you’re in a situation where you have the time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s not against trying new things and experimenting, as long as it’s not weird or extreme to him, but his main concern is where to do it. He hates the idea of taking any major risks, as he’s incredibly afraid of the negative consequences and the embarrassment it could bring if someone was to catch him with you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His stamina isn’t crazy high, but it’s not low. His average during the first round is about 10 minutes. He usually wants at least two rounds, and only very rarely does he want a third.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He owns one toy, but doesn’t use it often. He prefers to use it on you, only when he feels like teasing you and dragging things out. This isn’t a common occurrence, though.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He finds it incredibly satisfying to tease you. In the bedroom, he’s a bit of a bratty sadist. He’ll love to make you squirm and beg for him, all the while he’s watching you with a cocky smirk on his face.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not very loud, and doesn’t make a lot of noise. He’s more of a grunter. He will, however, be incredibly dirty when he does speak. He’ll dirty talk or say some very obscene things, he’s not exactly shy about things like that.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Despite his cocky and arrogant persona, he secretly craves affection and attention. This is why he teases you so much, it’s the easiest way to get what he wants. A simple please is usually enough to do it.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s average and pretty normal down there. He doesn’t like to use the term 'big,' since he doesn’t think there’s anything special about it. But it’s a very normal and very average size, and is uncut.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is a little higher than average. He usually wants to do it once every two or three days, if possible. He’ll probably tease and flirt with you most of the time, to see if you’ll do something to get him into the mood.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s usually pretty good about staying awake afterwards. If anything he’ll just lie next to you and watch you sleep, but he’ll fall asleep soon afterwards. When/if he does get sleepy, he’ll try his hardest to stay awake.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

💘Pretty In Pink || Erik Campbell and his cute soft, pretty-in-pink coquette girlfriend mini series ||

(DO NOT STEAL MY IDEAS)

Like seriously, I've had my work stolen before. If you'd want to use one of these for my ideas for my mini series then tag me

1. “Sweetheart, You’re Gonna Get Me Arrested.”

Erik’s always the one in control—until you show up to his tattoo parlor wearing a pink mini skirt, no panties, and that innocent look you wear like armor. You on his lap while he’s sketching out some things with you whispering about how bad you've been and how much you want him to fix it.

Smut angle: He finally snaps, bends you over the counter, and makes you bite his palm to muffle your cries. His piercing dragging deliciously slow as he makes you beg.

2. “You Promised to Be Good Today.” “I Lied.”

You're both at a party—his friends, a few mutuals, drinks flowing. You look like sin in bubblegum, and Erik knows exactly what you're up to when you start shifting on his lap. Your fingers sneak under the waistband of his jeans while everyone else is too distracted to notice.

Smut angle: He drags you to the bathroom and fucks you so thoroughly against the door that you forget your name—calling him “sir” in a breathless whimper while he tells you how desperate you are is for his cock.

3. “Try to Keep Up, Baby.”

Erik takes you on his bike wearing just a sundress and your kitten heels. The wind keeps flipping the skirt up, and he knows damn well you planned it. When they finally stop in a remote area, you pretend you're shy, sitting sideways on the seat with your legs crossed.

Smut angle: He eats you out right there on the bike seat, one hand gripping your throat while you sobs his name, your thighs trembling. Then he flips you around and fucks you from behind until the bike rocks beneath them.

4. “I Made You Something…”

You show up to the shop with pink cupcakes wearing a trench coat and behind that trench coat a lace-trimmed apron—no clothes underneath. Erik’s doing inventory, but the second he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes, it’s over.

Smut angle: He makes you kneel between his legs and suck him off while he feeds you frosting off his fingers, muttering filth about how good she looks with his cock down your throat. (Bonus: you hums around him just to tease his piercing.)

5. “Tattoo Me, Daddy.”

You beg him for your first tattoo: a tiny pink bow on your hip or inner thigh. You're blushing, flustered—but he knows your game. You writh while he inks, biting your lip and calling him “sir” every time the needle presses in.

Smut angle: As soon as he’s done, you pull him on top of you, riding him slow and deep with the fresh ink still stinging. He holds your hips carefully, his voice low and filthy in your ear, making you cry from how gentle and dirty it is all at once.

6. “I Dare You.”

You two are alone in a dressing room at the mall. You try on pink lingerie sets and keeps “accidentally” leaving the curtain open. Erik’s already hard, his patience gone by the third set.

Smut angle: You rides him on the little velvet bench while he growls about how much of a fuckin’ tease you are. You tug at his chain as you come, and he tells you, you'd better hope the cameras are off—or not.

7. “Pretty Doll, My Rules.”

You surprise him one night wearing pink ribbons around your wrists and ankles, kneeling on satin sheets like a present. You flush is real—but so is the need in your eyes.

Smut angle: He ties you down properly and takes his time. Uses his piercing to overstimulate you, edging you until you sob and beg for release. He only lets you come when you say “please” like the sweet little thing you pretend to be.

8. “Pink Looks Better With Bruises.”

You love showing off your marks—bite prints on your inner thighs, finger-shaped bruises at your hips. He notices how proud you get when people almost see them.

Smut angle: He fucks you hard in front of a mirror, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your ass. You watch yourself break apart on his cock, mascara smudged and pretty lips parted. He marks your neck right before you come again.

💖 FLUFFY IDEAS ( non smut related )

1. “You Painted What Pink?”

You surprise Erik by painting a corner of his apartment bubblegum pink and turning it into a “cozy corner” with pillows, blankets, and fairy lights. He tries to act annoyed… until he falls asleep there cuddling you.

Bonus: He starts leaving his jacket on the chair there when he gets home, and you find it the next morning, still warm.

2. “My Big, Scary Teddy Bear.”

You buy him a plushie that “reminds you of him”—black leather jacket, little frowny eyebrows. He grumbles… but later, you catche him adjusting it on your bed so it doesn’t fall over.

Bonus: When you're away visiting family, he sleeps with the damn thing on your pillow and texts you: “Your stuffed boyfriend misses you. Real one too.”

3. “You’re Not Leaving in That Skirt, Trouble.”

It’s date night, and you show up in a flouncy pink skirt and glittery lip gloss. Erik groans like he’s annoyed, but you catch him staring every five seconds.

Bonus: He carries a hoodie in his truck just so he can give it to you later—not because he’s possessive… definitely not… okay, maybe a little. But he just really wants to see you stay warm

4. “He Knows My Coffee Order.”

You walk into the shop with your pink tote bag and heart-shaped sunglasses, only to find Erik already holding your favorite drink.

Bonus: He gruffly says it was “just a guess” but had actually written it down in his notes app weeks ago.

5. “Bows in Your Hair, Just for Me.”

You put tiny pink bows in your hair because you know he likes playing with it. He acts like it’s no big deal—until he’s braiding one strand into a little rope around his finger while you talk.

Bonus: He keeps one of your bows in his glovebox. You find it and nearly cries. He just shrugs and says, “It smelled like you.”

6. “Matching? Maybe.”

You buy them matching pink-and-black socks with tiny skulls on them and gifts them to him like it’s a national holiday. He groans—but wears them under his boots anyway.

Bonus: When they’re curled up watching movies, you sees them peeking out and beams. He notices and just pulls you closer without a word.

7. “Cuddle Bug and the Human Furnace.”

You love burrowing under his jacket or hoodie, especially when he’s warm from work. He grumbles every time—“Get your cold hands off me, doll”—but he never stops you

Bonus: Sometimes he walks in the door and opens his arms automatically because he knows you're about to climb on him like a koala.

8. “Princess and the Punk.”

You jokingly make him a tiny paper crown with “King of Trouble” written on it in pink glitter glue. He says he’ll throw it out. You catch him keeping it in his top drawer next to his lighter and spare chain.

Bonus: He starts calling you “my queen” whenever you tease him, even if he rolls his eyes after.

9. “My Girl’s Got Claws.”

When someone flirts with Erik at the grocery store, you sweetly loop your arm through his and goes, “Hi! His girlfriend. We bake cookies and fuck a lot.”

Bonus: Erik’s stunned, then smug the entire drive home. You're flushing too hard to speak. He keeps calling you a “jealous little cupcake” for days.

10. “Bubblegum and Bruises.”

He gets into a fight protecting his younger brother, and you fuss over every scrape, sitting him down and patching him up with pink Hello Kitty band-aids. He lets you. Doesn’t even blink.

Bonus: you kiss each one when you're done and then curls into his lap, whispering, “You’re my hero.” He doesn’t say anything… just holds you tighter.

First Piercings

(Different places, different moods—fluffy, teasing, smutty, and intimate)

⸻

1. ✨ Navel Piercing – “Just for You, Baby.”

You show up in a cropped top, glittery gloss on your lips, and tells Erik that you're finally ready to get your bellybutton pierced. You want him to do it. You say it’s because you trust him most—but he knows it’s also because you love the way he watches you when you stretch and that top lifts.

Flirty tease: Later that night, you straddle him on the couch and lifts your shirt just enough to show it off, whispering, “You like it?”

Smut angle: He tugs her panties aside and fucks you slow while kissing the nape of your neck whispering how pretty you look with his metal in your body.

2. 💞 Nipple Piercing – “You Said You Wanted Something Just for You.”

After weeks of teasing and hinting, you finally ask Erik to pierce your nipples. You're nervous but so turned on by the idea of him being the one to do it. You show up in pink lace and no bra, trying to act shy but dying for his reaction.

Intimate: He’s impossibly gentle, focused—but his voice is rough with restraint. “You look so fuckin’ good, doll.”

Aftercare fluff: you're flushed and shaky after, and he cradles you in his lap with his forehead against yours, cooing, “You were so good for me.”

Smut angle (once healed): He bites lightly around the healing rings, watching you squirm. “Told you I’d love ‘em. You gonna let me taste you while they’re still sore?”

3. 🖤 Tongue Piercing – “I Just Wanted to Be a Little Bad.”

You show up to his shop with innocent eyes and a hidden secret—you got your tongue pierced while you were gone without telling him. When he finally sees it? He damn near loses his mind.

Tease: You trail your tongue along the rim of your lollipop and giggles, “You like my surprise?”

Smut angle: Later, you're on your knees, and he can feel the stud sliding against his cock as she moans. He jerks your hair back and groans, “That’s not fuckin’ fair, baby…”

4. 🌸 Septum Piercing – “You’d Still Love Me If I Look Like a Punk, Right?”

You've been toying with the idea of a septum ring but worries you won’t look “cute” anymore. Erik smirks and tells you that you could wear a bolt through your nose and he’d still fuck you like you're the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Fluff: He holds your hand through the whole piercing, kisses the tip your nose after, and says, “Still my dollface.”

Bonus scene: You get matching pink rings for you both—you swap his out while sitting in his lap, straddling him in your thigh highs.

5. 🩷 Helix Piercing – “One More Reason to Play with My Hair.”

You get a cartilage piercing on a whim and chooses a pink gemstone stud. You keep flicking your hair to show it off until Erik finally grabs you by the waist, bites your earlobe, and murmurs, “You’re killin’ me with this whole doll routine.”

Fluffy moments: you let him clean it, babying you with his rough fingers and quiet grumbles.

Bonus: you swap it out for a heart-shaped stud engraved with his initials.

6. 🍒 Double Lobe Piercings – “I Want to Be Pretty Everywhere.”

You've already have simple studs—but decides to go for doubles, choosing dainty pink gems and tiny hearts. You sit in Erik’s chair in her favorite pastel outfit, swinging your legs and asking, “Will you kiss them better when it’s done?”

Aftercare Fluff: Erik does kiss them—every morning and every night. When you pout because one’s sore, he carries you around the apartment just to cheer you up.

Bonus tease: you string tiny chain earrings that spell out “Erik” and pretends not to notice his reaction.

6. 💋 Lip Piercing – “Bet You’ll Think About Kissing Me Now.”

You're nervous but excited—and when you look at yourself in the mirror with that little pink gem on your lip, you know you're going to ruin Erik with it. He stands behind you, arms crossed, just staring.

Smut angle: you straddle him, trailing soft kisses down his chest, lips brushing his skin with every sweet flick. He finally snaps, grabs your face, and says, “You knew exactly what that was gonna do to me.”

7. 💖 Cupid’s Bow Piercing – “Because I Want to Be Kissed Here Most.”

You see a vertical lip piercing—centered through the cupid’s bow—and your coquette brain short circuits. When you tell Erik you wants it, he smirks and says, “That’s dangerous.”

Aftermath: Every kiss becomes obsession. He can’t stop sucking that spot. You giggle, “Told you it was worth it.”

Smut: your lipstick smudged, your tongue slick with him, and the piercing making you pout even more perfect as you beg, “More. Please, please more.”

8. 🧸 Nostril Piercing – “Just One More Little Sparkle.”

You decide that you want a teeny, girly sparkle on one nostril—maybe a heart-shaped stud or soft rose gold hoop. Erik helps you pick it out, even though he pretends he doesn’t care.

Post-piercing cuddles: You're sniffly and sore, curled in his hoodie while he hand-feeds you snacks and pets your hair.

💘 TATTOO ideas

1. “I Want Something That’s Only Yours.”

You tell him you want a tattoo Erik designed just for you—something no one else will ever have. Maybe it’s a tiny bow, a delicate heart, or a sigil only he understands. You don't even want to see the sketch—you trust him completely.

2. “Tattoo Me Somewhere Only You’ll See.”

You want a hidden tattoo—hip, ribcage, or just above your pussy. Something small, dainty, and personal. Maybe a phrase like “Only his” in script, or a tiny pink heart.

Smut: You show him wearing only panties and a bow, whispering, “It’s sore… be gentle.”

3. “I Want to Tattoo You Too.”

You get curious about his machine and begs him to let you try it on him. He lets you give him a tiny heart or your initial somewhere low on his torso. It’s crooked. It’s wobbly. It’s perfect.

Fluff: He teases you relentlessly, but never covers it.

Bonus: Later, during sex, he traces your fingertip over it and growls, “Look what you did to me.”

4. “Give Me Something That Hurts Pretty.”

You confess you like the sting. That being marked by him, inked and raw, turns you on more than you expected. You ask for something a little bigger—a thigh piece or sternum tattoo—with lace and ribbons woven into the design.

Smut angle: When you flinch and whimpers, he leans in and murmurs, “You’re gettin’ off on this, aren’t you?”

Later: You can’t ride him for days, so he eats you out instead, fingers ghosting over the bandage while you tremble

5. “I Want to Match You.”

You secretly design a matching tattoo after finding a sketchbook of his. Maybe a skull and bow combo, or something symbolic of your relationship—his darkness, your softness.

Reveal scene: You show him while curled up in his hoodie, eyes shining, voice tiny: “Now we match.”

Erik’s reaction: Gutted. Soft. Obsessed. He presses a kiss to it and whispers, “You’re mine, sweetheart. Every inch.”

[mariclerc]

Happy little tail | cl16

Summary: You ask your boyfriend if you can adopt a puppy and it becomes the best decision of your lives.

Warning: none. pure fluff!

It's a sunny afternoon in Monaco, you and Charles are in your shared apartment. He's sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone while you sit curled up in the other side of the couch and you read a book, well, you try to read it because your mind is busy traveling somewhere else.

You steal a glance at Charles, then you bite your lip nervously. He glances up from his phone, catching your eye, he raises an eyebrow playfully.

“Lost in your book again, chérie?” he asks with a smile. (darling)

“Uh, yeah. It's... uh, really interesting.” you say a little flustered.

Charles chuckles and sets his phone down, scooting closer to you on the couch. He bumps his shoulder gently against yours.

“You look like you're a million miles away. What's on your mind, my lovely girl?”

You hesitate, then you take a deep breath. ”It's just... the apartment feels a bit quiet sometimes, you know?” you whisper.

Charles' smile softens. He reaches out and takes your hand in his. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It has been awfully quiet lately.”

You glance up at him, a flicker of hope in your eyes. “So... I was thinking, maybe... maybe we could adopt a puppy?”

A surprised but delighted grin spreads across Charles' face.

“A puppy, huh? Are you sure about that?” he giggled.

You smiled back. “Well, I know it's a big commitment, but... wouldn't it be nice to have some furry company around here? Someone to cuddle with on movie nights?”

Charles' eyes twinkle. “Someone to chase after in the park and blame for chewed up slippers?”

You laughed and blushed. “Hey! I wouldn't do that!”

Charles leans in and kisses your forehead.

“I know you wouldn't. Actually, I love the idea. Let's find our perfect little furball. We can go to the shelter tomorrow, what do you say?” he say and your face light up. “Really? That would be amazing!” you beams and Charles pulled you into a hug. “Just think about it, soon this quiet apartment will be filled with barking, happy zoomies, and enough slobbery kisses to last a lifetime.”

You snuggled closer to him, your heart full. “That sounds so perfect.”

-

The next day you go to the local shelter, you and Charles walk hand-in-hand, peering into kennels filled with bouncing puppies of all shapes and sizes. You feel a pang of sympathy for every furry face you see, but Charles keeps a playful eye on you, ready to tease you about adopting the entire shelter.

You stop at a kennel where a small, long-bodied puppy with floppy ears sits regally in the corner. He doesn't bark or jump like the others, but he cocks his head and observes them with intelligent brown eyes. A sign on the kennel reads "Leo - Dachshund."

“Oh my god, Charlie. Look at him! He's perfect.”

Charles kneels down, his smile melting away the shyness in Leo's eyes. He extends a hand, and Leo cautiously sniffs it, then licks it with a wet tongue. “Well, hello there, Leo. You want to come on an adventure with us?”

A volunteer with a kind smile approaches the both of you.

“This is Leo! He's a little sweetheart, he's been with us for a while, but he's been waiting for his forever home.”

“He's beautiful. Can we take him out for some playtime?” you smile and ask shyly.

The volunteer leads you both to a fenced-in play area and as soon as Leo is free, his little tail starts wagging furiously. He trots around, sniffing at everything then trots back to you, nudging your hand with his wet nose. You laugh and kneel down, letting him lick your face with enthusiasm.

Charles chuckled. “Looks like someone's found their new cuddle buddy.”

You glance at Charles, your eyes shining. “He definitely picked me.”

You spent the next hour playing with Leo, throwing a ball and letting him burrow under Charles' arm for a nap. By the time you fill out the adoption paperwork, you both know Leo is coming home with you.

-

You and Charles are setting up a cozy bed for Leo in the corner of the living room with some dog toys. Leo waddles around excitedly, exploring his new territory, you pick him up and cradles him in your arms.

“Welcome home, little guy. This place just got a whole lot cozier!” you coo at Leo.

Charles wraps his arms around both of you, giving you a warm hug.

“This is going to be a great adventure. The beginning of our little family!”

Leo licks your face again, his tail thumping happily against your arms. You settle down on the couch, Leo nestled between the both of you. The apartment may not be quiet anymore, but the peaceful sound of Leo's contented sigh fills the void perfectly.

ynusername

liked by yourmom, arthur_leclerc, carmenmmundt and others

tagged charles_leclerc

ynusername welcome to your forever home little leo 🐶🐾

see 5.163 comments

user1 omg omg this is so cutee 🥺🥺

scuderiaferrari welcome to the team Leo! ❤️🐾

liked by creator and charles_leclerc

f1 welcome to the paddock little leo!!! ❤️❤️

yourbff omg omg omg!!! my fav puppy parents 🥺

ynusername yay 😭 we're now puppy parents 🤍

leclerc_pascale ❤️❤️❤️

liked by creator and charles_leclerc

lilymhe oh my goodness 🥺🥺🥺

alex_albon albon pets ran so little leo leclerc could walk 🤍🤍

ynusername yuppppp so true!

charles_leclerc so... i was eepy in that pic? 🥺

ynusername yup, you two were so eepy and cute 🥰

charles_leclerc

liked by ynusername, doni.nahmias, olliebearman and others

charles_leclerc welcome home leo leclerc 🐾❤️ your mama and i already love you so much ❤️❤️

see 2.636.176 comments

landonorris omg bro you're a dad now... does that makes you a daddy?

logansargeant bro...

charles_leclerc ...no comment

ynusername yep!! he's now a daddy 🥰 a cute daddy i would say 😋☝🏻

user2 oh my goodness this is so so cute 🥹🥹

arthur_leclerc i'm an uncle now omg... can i take him to a ride? 👉🏻👈🏻

ynusername 1. yesss!! 2. ehm, nope

charles_leclerc no, absolutely not

arthur_leclerc you both are such a boring people

ruthbuscombe the leclerc family it's getting bigger

liked by creator and ynusername

ynusername my eepy little boys 🥺🥺, i love u so much my loves <3

charles_leclerc we love you too amour ❤️🥹

ynusername pls come back to bed 🥺 i need cuddles with my boys <3<3

charles_leclerc we are on our way chérie 🤍🤍

ynusername posted a story

[nikkeora]

High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.

or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)

warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.

may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.

also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles

Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.

You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.

This version of him just felt so.. different.

Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.

Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.

Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.

But what were you going to do?

This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.

You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.

He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.

You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.

The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.

Then someone came out of the other room.

“What's this?”

The hell—?

From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.

His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.

“¿Tío?”

Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.

“Miles.” He asked again.

“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”

“Found her?”

Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.

“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—

You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).

Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.

“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.

“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?

“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”

“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.

“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.

“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”

“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”

“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”

Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.

As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—

You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.

You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—

“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”

You’re not gonna die.

“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.

“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.

“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”

You paused for a moment.

Sirens outside.

Yelling from the streets.

Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.

Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?

The buzzing of the lights overhead.

“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”

Miles.

A pan on the kitchen stove.

The DJ table by the windows.

Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.

“Three things you can touch here.”

Miles.

The ground if you bent down, you guessed.

Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.

“Two you can smell?”

Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?

That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.

Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”

“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.

It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.

There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.

The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.

You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.

Aaron chuckled and shook his head.

“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”

-

You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.

You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.

“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”

“Who’s Spider-Man?”

You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”

“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”

This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.

You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.

Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.

“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”

Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.

The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.

“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”

“You have no idea.”

In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.

You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.

“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”

“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”

A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?

…

Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?

“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…

-

Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.

He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.

“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”

“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”

You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”

A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.

“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.

“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.

“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”

-

The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.

The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.

“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”

“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”

He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”

“What’s a Comicon?”

Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.

The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”

“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.

“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.

“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”

“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”

They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.

The suit was supposed to be for you.

His you.

You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.

“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”

“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.

“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”

“We could build her a new suit—”

“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”

He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?

“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”

“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”

“Don't call me that.”

They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.

“No offense.” He said to you.

“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.

You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.

“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.

“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”

“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.

“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”

There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.

Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.

“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.

The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.

“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”

Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.

“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”

“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”

“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”

“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”

“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”

He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...

You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.

“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”

-

Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.

Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.

Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.

Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—

“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.

“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”

“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”

—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.

It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.

“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.

“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.

“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”

Boom.

A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.

“A-27.”

Boom.

“C-15.”

Boom.

From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.

Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”

His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.

“Mhm.”

“Going in.”

You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.

As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.

For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.

It was exhilarating.

Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.

Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.

Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.

Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.

And you were fine with that.

What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.

“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.

The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.

“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?

Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah.”

Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.

There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.

You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—

“Peter Parker?”

Are you kidding me?

You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.

“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.

Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.

“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.

You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…

“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”

Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”

Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”

“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”

Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.

This was it. You were finally going home.

Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.

“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.

The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.

The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—

Ow.

What the hell?

You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?

Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.

There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.

Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you’d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.

“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”

You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.

“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.

You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.

“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”

The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.

And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.

I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.

Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—

A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.

Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.

You knew that face.

It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.

Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.

The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.

In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.

It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.

Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?

And it worked.

Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.

“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.

You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.

“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”

The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.

Wonderful.

A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?

After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.

Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.

[mutedwinter]

Almost, Always

w.c — 1.5k

summary — Lacy Logan has never had to struggle. Born into wealth and status, she’s used to city life, not some small town in Kansas. But thanks to her brother Leo—who got expelled again—her family is forced to move to Smallville for yet another fresh start.

On the night of her birthday party, Leo drags her into his latest mess: he and his friends have strung up some guy in a cornfield for crashing. But when Lacy sees who it is—Clark Kent—everything starts to change.

Smallville isn’t just another town, and Clark isn’t just some nobody. And whether she’s ready or not, Lacy is about to step into a world far bigger than her own.

written for @theepr1ncess

POP MUSIC BLARED from within Lacy Logan's french country style home. Beats bounced off of the walls and heavy bass thumped against the marble floors. It was Friday night, and just as the moon made itself aware, a flurry of cars began to pull up. The house had been a custom build for the Logan family. It had iron gates, a garden filled with roses with a marble fountain, rows of tall pillars that decorated each side of the outdoor pool area, and a huge family painting hanging on the living room wall.

The large garden behind the residence was littered with flashy cars and expensive-looking motorcycles. Drunken football players splashed around in the pool, trying to get revenge on their already chlorine soaked teammates. A group of kids with red solo cups full of whatever alcohol they could find in the cabinets stumbled as they talked amongst themselves.

Oh well. A little stealing never hurts anyone.

Inside the house, amongst the crowded area was a group of girls gathered together on the blue velvet sofa with their drinks and figure-flattering outfits. Bianca Butler, Lacy’s best friend, laughed almost angelically at something one of her friends had shouted over the music in her ear. She was perfectly primped in her black spaghetti strap mini dress, her silky honey locks curled loosely around her heart shaped face. Soft brown eyes hidden under her long thick lashes.

To her right was Lacy Logan, The prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, scrolling through the photo gallery on her phone. Lacy was a beautiful storm. Her slick back ponytail hung straight and shiny down her back. Her eyes were painted with a smokey eyeshadow and her lips were the color of cinnamon. She wore a red dress outlined with lace, and a pair of black strappy heels to showcase her long, lithe legs. In her freshly manicured hand was a bottle of water that she had on standby just in case a friend needed to sober up. Her friends rambled on about useless topics but she couldn't be bothered to entertain their ideas of a conversational piece. Classmates waltzed up to her and wished her a happy birthday. Some complimented her hair, her dress, her makeup, the speech she gave in the debate club.

Anything to feel like you're a part of her world, right?

"She’s obsessed with you and not in a good way." Lacy chimed into the conversation. The current topic was about the infamous 'Maggie Cameron', Bianca’s annoying girlfriend. She’s a terribly selfish rich girl that just so happens to be friends with Lacy’s twin brother and older sister. "You're overreacting." The blonde denied as she nursed her cup of beer, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous accusations. 

"Seriously, B, you're giving her way too much credit," Bianca remarked, her voice blending with the rhythm of the music. "I've seen toddlers throw less tantrums." She gestured toward Maggie, who was making her way over to them. She wasn't alone though; she never really was. Lacy’s twin brother, Leo, was to his right, and Tony Alvarez was to his left.

The music thumped in the background, echoing throughout the spacious living room filled with a mix of friends, acquaintances, and the occasional stranger brought along for the night. Lacy chuckled quietly to herself and looked away from the glare that Bianca had cast her way. She leaned back against the couch, observing the crowded room with an air of detached annoyance. The flickering lights and the buzz of conversations were starting to give her a headache.

As Maggie approached, Lacy exchanged a knowing glance with Leo, and Tony gave a subtle nod. "Hey sis." Leo clapped a hand down over Lacy’s shoulder as his voice boomed over the loud music. He held a red solo cup filled with whatever he managed to score from their parents bedroom. A mischievous smile graced his features and it was only then that Lacy realized what it meant. He needed her for something. Lacy shot him a questioning look, her curiosity piqued. "What do you want now, Leo?" she asked, the noise of the party fading into the background as she tuned into whatever mess her brother had managed to get into. 

“We want to you come check something out. The guys and I found this loser trying to come into your party so we took him out to a cornfield and strung him up.” His chocolate eyes gleamed against the soft lights as he spoke. Now, Lacy wasn’t exactly sure if she heard him right because none of what he said had made sense in the slightest. “I’m sorry, you did what?” Her tone was clipped, black nails digging into the couch armrest.

By the look on her face Leo had quickly realized that he had made the wrong decision. Again.

“Now I-I know that sounds bad but I can totally explain!” His words were rushed as he straightened his posture, hands up in surrender. “Explain what exactly? We’re not even here for a month and you’re already causing trouble? Are you joking?”

She got up from the couch, pushing past her brother and his stupid friends. He was hot on her trail, rushed apologies were going in one ear and out the other. He was saying something about how she was overreacting even though they both knew that she wasn’t. Leo had a habit of downplaying the feelings of those around him. He also had a habit of creating trouble and being in situations where he didn’t belong.

And she was sick of it.

“You do this every time, Leo,” she snapped, rounding on him just as they reached the hallway. “You get yourself in trouble, and we have to pack up and start over because of it. Do you know how exhausting it is? How much I hate having to pretend I don’t know why we’re moving? Do you think I enjoy having to walk into new schools and act like I don’t know that the real reason we’re here is because you—”

She stopped herself, inhaling sharply, her nails biting into her palms.

Leo shifted on his feet. He knew exactly what she was talking about. “That was different,” he muttered, gaze flickering toward the floor.

“Yeah?” She let out a cold laugh. “So is this. Do you even realize how insane you sound? A cornfield, Leo? Do you have any idea what Mom and Dad would do if they found out?”

He finally looked up, his face blank, but she could see the panic creeping into his eyes.

Lacy tilted her head. “Actually…” She dug into her back pocket, pulling out her phone and waving it between them. “Maybe I should give them a call.”

His eyes widened. “Lace—come on.”

“No, really. Let’s tell them. I mean, what’s one more call from the school? Or the police?” She raised her eyebrows. “They’ll love hearing about this one.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, I’m not joking.” She turned the phone over in her hand, thumb hovering over the screen. “But… maybe I don’t have to. Maybe you just give me your car keys, and we forget this happened.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, she thought he might argue. But then, with a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, tossing them at her.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

She caught them effortlessly, slipping them into her pocket. “Yeah, well, maybe next time, you’ll think before you do something stupid.”

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked off.

Her gaze flitted around the area, scanning the faces of the random people and occasional familiar faces. It was supposed to be a small gathering. The thought floated around her mind as Brittany Kluger, a sophomore that was apparently all too friendly with the senior's, came up to her for what felt like the one hundredth time that night. She had pink dyed hair and wore the ugliest pair of jeans that Lacy had seen in years. "Hey Lacy! Great party," She grinned with that god awful set of teeth and Blair could smell the alcohol on her breath from a mile away.

From an initial look, you could tell that she was wasted from the spiked punch that Bianca insisted on making. Lacy smiled, it was practiced but still effective, and batted her eyelashes in response. It was the classic Lacy move which meant that either your conversation wasn't entertaining enough or she found you attractive. You should assume the former with the pink mess standing in front of her.

"Thank you." She softly murmured and turned away before the chatterbox could do what she does best, which is chatter. She could hear her feeble attempts at capturing her attention again as she pushed past the sweaty bodies of her classmates. There was only one thing on her mind tonight that she would actually be looking forward to.

And little did she know, it would turn her life upside down.

[kismetlotts]

Omg omg hii I have this super request of Price slipping into his beautiful neighbour’s house, (just the way the man was so good at staying in the shadows when he entered Shepherd’s pffice) slipping something funny into the water she’s supposed to drink after a workout... She passes out in a matter of minutes after sitting down and by the time she wakes up, she’s so sore and sticky yet can’t even seem to remember why... or falling asleep at all!

Fucking love this idea! Got a little carried away though and made Price a bit of a stalker- but I hope you don’t mind!

cw: noncon, rape, use of drugs (spiking), Price is a little bit of a stalker, mentions of hand jobs, fingering, self tasting, oral sex on fem, being ejaculated on, watching through window, mentions of stealing panties, Price has a little obsession with the reader, mentions of spit, a lot of sweat, use of degrading name e.g 'bitch', Price can't see what he is doing is wrong, mentions of exercise, rough sex, a lot of manhandling, neighbour next door trope

"Need any help with those?" Was what started it all off. Price was in the midst of bringing in groceries after being away for so long due to work in the military. The boot of his car raised as bags of necessities- food, beer, what not- were pretty much trickling out and onto the pavement.

He lived in a local quiet area of town, houses decently sized and kept tidy. Lawns frequently mowed, flowers always grown and planted- such a shame how little sunshine England got because it would look like something out of a movie. John was also acquainted well with a lot of the elderly folk around there, most of them having lived their way before he even moved in.

It was perfect for him, given he was usually a bit of a grumpy bastard, living alone in a neighbourhood like that was a breath of fresh air. His neighbours understood him and kept to themselves but not in the distance unwelcoming way, the respecting kid of way. It made him feel secure- snug like a childhood blanket; warm, safe and familiar.

So it’s not difficult to envision the look on his face when he turned around, catching you exiting the house next door. Body in them tight gym shorts and shirt to match as you practically ran over to him. Fucking hell, what had he missed? He had to blink twice; once to register was going on and a second time to look away because your body was enchanting. Forcefully having to drag his eyes away from the plump curves of your ass- the shape of your thighs- your breasts.

Passing you one of the bags from the car, carrying three himself because- of course he had to show off his own strength and muscle to you. A jolt of arousal electrocuting his body from your skin brushing his hand; cock swelling up erratically and his eyebrows furrowed. Johns head immediately leaping to imagine scenarios with them soft fingers of yours.

Finger tips only just touching as your hand spread around the base of his girthy cock, stroking him slowly, looking into his eyes as you bite your lip nervously, wondering if you were doing a good enough job- if you were pleasing him right. He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as the pulse in his cock died down. He couldn't let himself get distracted so easily, come on John, what has gotten into you?

As you helped him unload, you explained how you'd moved in next door a couple months ago, not realising anyone actually lived in his house. Rambling on about how nice all the neighbours seem and how easy it was to settle down. How safe this side of town was but honestly, John didn't care one bit.

He wasn't listening to the words despite him deceiving you with his humming and nodding. He was listening to the sound of your voice instead. The sickeningly sweet tone chirping into his ear so delicately it made his hands tremble. Fingers desperate to reach out and touch you like a child with fire.

He knows it will burn, he knows he cant but its just so pretty- he was losing fucking control, who the hell were you?

He'd imagine all the noises you'd make with him above you, finger fucking you until your words were all broken and tearful. Ripping out of your cunt harshly before forcing the fingers into your mouth. Shuddering at the feel of your tongue tracing laps around them, tasting yourself, doing exactly what he guides you to do.

"Do you taste good?" He'd ask you slowly, breath hitting your face from how close the distance between you is. Voice thick with husk and lust because he couldn't let you realise the power you have over him. How weak you get him at the knees- you could have him a begging mess if you asked.

A scarred yet smooth large hand grabbing you by the cheeks, squishing your adorable face so hard your lips shine with spit. Holding you like that and watching your skin pale when he lets go. Not bothering to actually hear your reply before going down and tasting you for himself.

From such short little interaction, a sick fascination had blossomed inside him. Wrapped in his head, tied in his chest and sunken deep in his stomach- it was more an obsession than a little crush. He'd watch you through his window as you pottered around in your kitchen oblivious to his gaze- it wasn't stalking to watch you all the time, he was just watching your back.

If being in the military taught him one thing it was to be cautious of your surroundings, because you never know what might happen - who could be lurking over you. So all he was doing was looking after you, really.

He knew your routine off by heart, when you would shower, when you would sleep, eat- work: He knew it better than you did yourself. He also knew things about you that you didn't even know. Like how many pairs of underwear you go through in a week.

His large muscular arm counting them as he shuffled through your wash basket being sure to snatch one for himself later, as you hummed innocently in the shower: unaware to his presence. And why your phone kept unplugging during the night when you slept, watching your angry face through the glass as you wake up and curse yourself out because you swore you plugged it in and now you have to wait an extra 20 minutes for your phone to charge up before going for your morning jog.

An extra 20 minutes of pacing in front of your window in your tight gym clothes, getting a few more stretches in because why not- you have the time.

Oh and you definitely didn't know about the faulty lock on your back door, and how when you jiggle it a bit the fucker just opens up with ease. How little effort it was to slip inside and glide around your home, the smell of you saturated into the sofa, the bed, the walls, precum dribbling into the fabric of his boxers. Your house really was yours, everything down to the last detail was just you.

He felt like he couldn't breathe yet breathing heavily was all he could bring himself to do. Lingering in the shadows as his fingers trailed along the kitchen counters, fist wrapping around the pink plastic of your water bottle. Silly silly little girl, you shouldn't have left it home because now he can’t stop himself.

Stood behind your front door, black hoodie blending him in as you stepped inside, panting like a dog- a bitch- from your run. Hair drenched in sweat that trickled down your forehead and neck making your skin look aureate- glowing.

He bit back the moan watching how carelessly and greedily you guzzled down your bottle of water. Oblivious to the fact that your friendly neighbour John had tampered with it, oblivious to the fact he was right fucking there, waiting patiently for the side effects to kick in.

Your back hitting the sofa as your panting settled down, eyes drooping a little and without your knowledge or realisation you were out cold. Knocked out- head flopping back and eyes rolled. Price chuckled, walking to the back of the couch, hand hitting your head before shoving your limp body hard, forward and onto the glass coffee table.

"Bless you, love. Didn't even know I was here, did ya?" He asked you loudly, he wanted to scream it at you and if he didn't care so much about the neighbours hearing him shout, he would've. Sadly he had to be cautious.

He had to make sure that you were fully unaware of everything he was going to do to you, before and after and he wasn't going to risk it- someone was bound to check up on you after hearing shouting even if it’s just a quick question while taking the rubbish out.

His fingers entwined in your hair as he slowly crouched down beside you. Yanking you back up, flipping and positioning your body over on the table like a mannequin. The zipper of his hoodie echoing in the silence of the house and fuck, he was desperate for you.

Undressing his top half and throwing the clothes on the settee before spreading your legs wide open. Wasting no time as he ripped a fat hole in your leggings, pushing your panties to the side through the broken fabric.

Johns mouth watered as his eyes locked on your pussy, so hot and steaming with sweat but he couldn't care less- he had been wanting you for the past month despite it feeling an eternity. He really couldn't give a shit if you were clean or sweaty- shaved or not he was fucking having you right here, and right now.

His blue eyes indulged in your peaceful expression, eyelashes pressed against your puffy cheeks while his tongue licked a long aching strip up from your entrance. Throat closed dry with thirst and his body was shaking with adrenaline, holding back and restraining himself from making a mess of your pussy. Letting himself sink into you and your flavour instead; not like it was going to last long or anything.

Less than one minute in and he was eating you, spitting on you, slapping your tiny sensitive clit. Sucking on you, biting you and getting your juices all caught inside his beard, he swore blind days went by with how long he was down there. Taking his precious time and allowing himself to relax and enjoy your taste but being cautious with his actions because he didn’t want to hurt you.

He didn't want you to feel as if you'd been raped or something horrible. He didn't want you to wake up and feel so sore and achy that you panic someone came in and fucked with you. John wasn't like that- no! He just needed a favour from you and went by it in a way that doesn't cause such a hassle. Saving himself from potential rejection and awkwardness between you too, it was beneficial. He was just borrowing you.

That was neighbours do, yeah? They help each other.

His cock would ram in you so deep his eyes stung from the pleasure he felt. So wet and tight and just for him. Slowly losing touch with the sensible side of him as he picked the pace up. He shouldn't be going that hard, you were definitely going to feel something is off. Going to feel how deep he was inside you when you wake up all lost and confused.

Your clit was going to throb and sting with how much Johns tongue had flicked, sucked and bit it. The more his brain let him know of his mistakes the more he thought, 'fuck it' and let himself be rough. Dragging and moving you around like his personal little sex doll- exactly what you fucking were.

Holding your legs up in the air then switching to your body pressed against his chest, hands squeezing your hips as he pretends your riding him.

"Oh fuck, honey just look at the sight of you. Why don't you come live with me? Why don't you come stay with me next door and I’ll do all this every night." Teeth sinking into your earlobe as his question was left unanswered- he wasn't expecting a response at all but it was an excuse to fuck you harder.

An excuse to rip off your shirt and play with your breasts because you weren’t replying or him and instead was making him angry. Leaving him with no choice but to tease your nipples until he’s about to cum.

Slamming you back down on the table before fisting his cock towering above you. The swollen and desperate tip so red and dripping with precum until finally he grunted and shut his eyes. Showering you in his hot semen watching how the white spurts out and paints your body like his personal canvas.

Palms eagerly massaging the warm cum into your flesh- your stomach, your chest, up on and over neck while he regains his breath and strength. Scooping you up into his arms to carry you up your stairs and into bed, removing everything and tucking you into the sheets- naked. His heart exploded seeing how solemn and innocent you looked all cuddles up, bending down over you to kiss your forehead before leaving.

Discarding the clothes and grabbing his hoodie, making sure to wipe and clean up any juices or evidence of the two of you before leaving out the back and returning home to rest. Missing your soft little murmur as you stirred awake in your bed, confused on how you'd gotten there and where your clothes had disappeared too.

Wincing from the sores on your legs and body and the sticky feeling everywhere as you sat up in bed. A yawn falling from your lips but- oh well.

Must've been from working out earlier.

[insanity6666]

Molten Hearts 3

You explore one of the cities of Nocturne and fulfill an ancient tradition. Accidentally. Mostly.

Warnings: Near-death experience, and all that entails. Nothing graphic tho.

Quick authors note: Stuff has happened between the Office Confession and now, but that's mostly minor fluff-stuff, and I wanted to get this one out since it was gnawing on my brain. Enjoy.

Part 1, Part 1.5, Part 2

The caverns of Nocturne were truly something wondrous. Ceilings, both natural and carved, were so tall you could barely see them, even with the lighting dotted high on the walls. Stalagmites and stalactites reached for each other, some had been broken away while others were used in the construction or used in decorating the cityscape, many bearing carvings or paintwork. Some speleothems were used as columns, reinforcements built around them to better support whatever structure was going to be built around or above it.

You wandered the half-carved streets, the beginnings of buildings, homes, plazas, communal areas, all slowly taking shape. All waiting to be filled with colour and sound and people and life. You felt an almost childlike wonder at it all, at the skill you could see even in the rough hewn stone.

Vulkan had insisted you explore, not wanting you to remain cooped up on the Flamewrought, but had mentioned that the preparations for his home here weren’t quite ready. He had been so contrite, you knew something hadn’t quite gone to plan, and he likely wanted to surprise you with something… again. On top of all he needed to handle upon his arrival, you knew he would be busy. You had offered to stay with him and wait, but he had assured you it was alright, as you would only be bored and he could tell you were eager to get out and move after so long travelling in space. So, with young Kessok as your escort, you weaved through the city. Through markets and back-alleys and up towers and across strone bridges and wherever else your whimsy decided to lead you.

You had come across this area quite by accident. Kessok, a young Space Marine who had not even a year prior had passed his trials as a Neophyte and completed his transformation into an Astartes of the Salamanders, mentioned that expanding the city limits was a slow and often dangerous affair, and that he had not even been born when the work had begun. 

It was currently empty. Most work had been halted to celebrate the return of the Salamanders and their Primarch. You can’t imagine how the people will react when they hear he is courting a mortal.

Salt and Stars, you still can scarcely believe it, sometimes. When you wake or in the midst of your craft, you can’t help but expect to find out that it had all been a dream or some heat-induced imagining of some kind. But no, you turn around and find he’s left a sweet message, or has snuck in to watch you work. You wander into his office or invite yourself into his quarters (something that still rattles you, a little, even after the months since that conversation in his office), leave little gifts of your own or steal a few short minutes or a quick kiss before you are both pulled away by other obligations.

You let your fingers trail over stone, smooth and cool to the touch despite the warmth in the air. There were no lanterns, but the nearby lava flows create a warm, ambient light, and the uneven ceilings and walls of the half-carved cavern caused shadows to come alive and shift in an almost playful dance. 

“How long do these celebrations usually last?” You ask your guide as you walk along a low ledge that traces the edge of a large open area, full of pillars and columns in various states of completion.

Kessok, helmet off and weapons holstered, pondered the question for a moment. He was almost shy, his hesitant words were the closest you’ve ever heard an Astartes come to stuttering, but that reticence had faded over the hours you’ve spent traversing the city together.

“A day or two, on average. Longer if there has been some great victory or happening. Father usually attends these gatherings,” He must have noticed your shoulders droop a little, as he adds kindly, “though I suspect his attendance will be short-lived for this one. The rest of us will have to celebrate without him, I suppose.” The young Marines smile was one of amusement, light and teasing.

You couldn’t help the blush that stained your cheeks at his comment, but you gave a huff of laughter before turning back to the large plaza a short drop below.

“Will the lava… rivers? Be diverted or blocked, or shall they become part of the architecture in some way?” You touch his arm as you point to what you mean, and he gives an understanding hum as he leans down a little to answer you.

“Blocking them would be unwise, as that would only build pressure. Even if the seal itself doesn’t break, the building magma will only find a new exit. We-” Kessok cut himself off and grew quiet. The sudden silence was jarring enough to make you stop in your tracks, gooseflesh prickling your skin as you caught sight of his expression. His eyes far away as he gazed off to the side, tracking something you couldn’t. Everything became still and quiet in a way it wasn’t before. A way that you couldn’t express with words, but something experienced. Felt.

You had enough time to process his look of sudden panic before the world exploded into violence.

Something roared over the cacophony of stone cracking and shattering. Green filled your vision as Kessok grabbed you just in time for everything to upend itself as you were thrown from where you two had been standing.

By the time your mind gave up on trying to process what just happened, you were pushing yourself to your feet; pain a dull warning in the back of your mind as you looked around. Your time on the battlefield served you well in this moment, as you sharpened your focus into something quick and sharp.

You were out in the open. Unsafe. Find cover. Friend missing. Where’s Kessok? Danger incoming. Source unknown. Identity unknown. Find Kessok. Regroup. Find safety. Find Vulkan.

You scratched that last thought as your eyes scanned the area, even as you moved towards the nearest chunk of stone debris that might hide you from… whatever was here. You need to contact Vulkan. Contact anyone, in truth, but some selfish, scared, childish part of you wanted Vulkan. You wanted your husband. He will come. He will keep you safe. You will see him again. 

You held onto that thought as you caught sight of green and gold, half buried under the shattered remains of a half-constructed pillar. You saw his eyes catch yours, blood pouring from a wound on his head, and that flare of relief died a quick dark death as a roar echoed through the chamber.

Unbidden, you ducked lower. With a breath to steel yourself, you rose just enough to glance at what remained of the carved walkway you had been standing on. 

Digging out from the remains of stone and metal, a mass of green and black. All scales and claws and teeth.

A Salamander. A drake. The beast from which the legion had been given its name. 

It was terrifying.

The creature was huge. It easily dwarfed you. You’re sure some of its teeth were bigger than you. You would be dead if it got close, and you have no doubt it would have no trouble doing so. You have no weapons. None but your wit. Kessok has a bolter, but you doubt it will do much here, maybe slow it down. He was half buried, but it looked like he could still draw it, but he wouldn’t be able to get out of the debris easily. He was trapped.

As if sensing your thoughts, the beast turned its ravenous eyes on the pinned Marine. It gave a low hissing noise, pleased at the sight of helpless prey, and began to stalk towards the struggling morsel.

Some latent instinct grew furious at the sight.

Something within you snarled. 

How dare that thing set its sights on your friend? Your son? Kessok was yours. Vulkan was yours and so that meant his genesons were yours. It had no right. You would not let it. 

“Call Vulkan!” You shout as you dart out of your hiding place, sprinting to another pile of rubble.

“My Lady! No!” Kessok yells, but the monster's attention was already on you. It was a predator, you were prey. You ran, so it must chase.

And chase it did.

Maybe it thought you were wounded, or that it registered your shout as the challenge it was, or maybe it saw something running off on its own and followed the urge to pursue. To hunt.

It charged after you, steps thundering, but you didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. You jumped as you neared the stone slabs, and kicked off it with as much force as you could muster. The momentum of your run aided you, landing a small distance away but it was far enough as the shrieking collision of scale and stone and flesh and metal burst out from behind you, and even as you avoided the worst of it, you were still thrown.

Rolling with the force, you shoved yourself onto your feet and sprinted for the next bit of cover: A stalagmite that was large enough that it could hide three Astartes, if they huddled.

Wait.

Stalactites.

“Kessok! Above us!” You scream over the noise. You hope he heard you, but you had no time to think as you see teeth emerge on either side of your hiding spot. You lunge forward, throwing yourself out of the way just in time as you hear the crunch of hardened minerals reduced to sand and dust. No better than gravel. 

A risked glance of your shoulder as you rise from the tumbled roll you executed, and you realise with horror you could reach out a hand and touch it. You move.

You run around it as it flails, throwing the chewed stones about. You trip, but recover, another roll and you're on your feet and sprinting towards open ground where Kessok should have a clear shot. You hear the echoing ‘Bang! Bang! Bang!’ of a bolter firing, but you don’t dare let your focus stray from anything other than survival.

There, on the far end. Another pillar. Larger than the others, it survived the initial assault, it just may help you survive the next.

“Mother!” You hear the terror in the scream, and some instinct bites at the back of your neck.

Drop.

You do.

Stone bites at your skin, covered or not, as you skid across the ground. A sharp hollow snap above you is accompanied by a rush of wind, the beasts bulk above enough bathing you in shadow.

“To me! To me! Go! Run!” Kessoks shouts reach you, somehow, in the chaos of everything. Like a physical barrier, but he breaks through, and you bolt through the opening. Running before you’ve even gotten on your feet properly, but you don’t stop. Don’t dare.

You focus on the sound of gunfire, the flash of the muzzle, and let it guide you until you catch sight of your friend. He’s kneeling, he’s escaped the debris! His bolter is aimed high, shooting at something high above you, but you don’t spare any thought to it as you feel something rapidly gaining on you again.

There’s the echo of a crack, somewhere far away.

You dive into the Salamander Astartes arms as the Salamander beast bears down on you both.

He turns you away, putting himself between you and the lunging maw.

A wet snap and a hollow squelch break through the roaring, cutting it off as the boom of something hitting the ground at speed ricochettes through the cavern. The drag of something heavy across stone, slowing, and-

Stops.

You don’t know how long you sit there, curled against the ceremite, but eventually you hear breathing. Yours. And Kessoks.You feel the shift from his breathing. You feel the press of your lungs against your ribs, from your own.

Alive. You’re alive. You’re both alive.

Slowly, you raise your head, moving just enough to look up at the Space Marine who is looking down at you in uncomprehending wonder.

“We’re alive.” You whisper, gasping every breath.

“We’re alive.” He echoes, relief and triumph in his voice.

Together, you both shift just enough to look behind his bulk and spy the mess that was far too close.

The dead salamander, a spear of dark stone through its skull, laid in a heap before them. Eyes unseeing, but even in the blank stare of death you swore you could see the ravenous hunger and rage behind the glassy veil. You shiver and turn away, looking about at the destruction its short-lived rampage had wrought instead.

‘Holy shit.’ You think, staring blankly at the devastation. ‘We survived that.’ There were gouges in the stone floor from the beast's charge, deep enough you would need help climbing out if you fell in, and the massive stone pillar was little more than a stubborn stone stump now.

You felt the twin rush of pride and triumph, but exhaustion was encroaching and you felt it begin to dig into your bones.

“Do you think this will count as a courting gift?” You ask Kessok, you stares down at you in the Salamanders equivalent of ‘are you fucking serious?’ for several long moments before he threw his head back and laughed. Big, booming laughter that bounced off the walls of the cavern and seemed to beat back the oppressive fear and desperation that had filled the space like a flash flood.

“I think,” Kessok says as his laughter trickles off, “That once my genefather has assured your wellbeing and has calmed down, you will need to move up the wedding date.”

“Kessok!” You chide, giving his armour a light smack even as laughter overtakes you for a moment, completely ruining your attempt at acting upset.

Once you’ve both recovered from your adrenaline fueled mirth, your friend carefully sets you on the stone floor next to him as he shifts with a wince, settling into a more comfortable, restful, position as he does.

“You’re injured.” It’s not a question. His head wound has stopped bleeding, but you’re more concerned by what you can’t see. His armour no doubt hides much, but the way his knee sits concerns you.

“I will heal. May need to spend a few days with the Apothecaries, but I will be fine. I would gladly surrender a limb for your safety, My Lady.” He tries to assure you, but his words only cause you more distress.

“Don’t say that.” You hate how your voice wobbles, fingers tracing along the armour covering his shin, not daring to put any weight on it. You know, logically, that he wouldn’t feel it if you put all your weight on it, but the idea of him being in pain upsets you enough that any prospect of causing discomfort, even accidentally, makes you overly careful now.

Because you know it’s true. You had made friends with many Salamanders before news of your courtship with Vulkan had spread through the legion, and even the ones you never met would have risked life and limb to protect you because you were a baseline human, a member of humanity and the Imperium of Man. It was their duty, but now it was more. They would die for you, not just because you were one of the people they swore to protect, but because you were theirs. You were Vulkans, and so you were the Legions. You belonged to the Salamanders now. 

They loved you. Because Vulkan loved you. Because they loved you. You were kind to them, treated them not as heroes or weapons or lords or symbols, but as people. You didn’t shy away from them, despite their size and strength. You even scolded them when they were being ridiculous.

You remember one night Vulkan had told you, amusement and pride shining in his burning eyes, that he had heard of an incident where one of his captains threatened to tell ‘The Legion Mother’ of his brothers’ behaviour when a disagreement threatened to become a brawl, and they all immediately stopped fighting. You hadn’t truly believed him at the time, convinced maybe he was exaggerating or someone had flourished the details when retelling the story to him.

You believed it now.

Before the weight of realisation -of surviving, of nearly dying, of exhaustion, of the Salamanders calling her Legion Mother and what that really means- Kessok’s head snapped to the side, looking towards the city proper.

You followed his gaze, but knew you wouldn’t be able to see anything for a while. 

However, it wasn’t what you saw that had you sitting up and turning your eyes upward after several long seconds of silence.

It was sound.

The rumble-whirr of aerial transport.

Not even a minute later it was in view, a Thunderhawk rapidly approaching their location. You saw a large shape drop from the ship, and you didn’t know whether to curse or sigh, because you knew what, or rather who, that was.

“I’m not sure he was wearing armour.” Kessok comments idly, “Not that he needs it. Lord Father has defeated the firedrakes of Mount Deathfire with naught but his bare hands.”

“He can’t defeat gravity with his bare hands.” You grumble. You know, logically, that he’s fine. You’ve seen him drop from greater heights and walk it off like it was nothing more than a short ledge, but that won’t stop you from worrying.

You have time to give a fond, if exasperated, look to your guard before your husband comes into view, beating out the Thunderhawk by a good margin.

“Love!” His shout reaches you only moments before he does, closing the space within seconds. He drops to his knees and pulls you into his arms. You go willingly, trying to pull yourself up, close to him, but give up almost immediately and let him fold himself around you even as he looks over you, hands barely daring to brush around the edges of the scrapes and bruises. Afraid to touch you and yet unable to resist keeping you close.

“Oh my heartfire, my treasure, my sweet one.” There are tears in his eyes as he looks at you. Your heart lurches at the sight, and you reach up to cup his cheek.

“I’m alive. We’re alive. We’re okay.”

“You are not okay.” He refutes harshly, a growl turning his voice dark. “Look at you! You are covered in wounds, and Kessok…” He looks to his son, who seems to shrink in on himself under his father's burning gaze. Distantly, you notice his helmet is missing.

“Saved me.” You announce, your voice turning sharp and hard. “I would be dead a hundred times over if not for him. Even with a shattered knee, he didn’t stop fighting.” You didn’t want to fight, but if he tried to blame Kessok for your injuries, for the salamander attack, for anything, you were going to have to.

Vulkans eyes turn soft when they settle on you again. “I do not condemn him. I only wish to note he is also hurt.” You blink up at him, and relax in his hold once more.

“Oh.” You say, “Good. I’m sorry, I jumped to conclusions.” You look over to where the Warhawk is landing, ramp already extended and Astartes pouring out like a green and gold landslide. You see three Apothecaries already making a beeline for your little group, and you raise a brow at your husband.

Clearly he doesn’t feel the need to act like he may have overreacted, because he returns your look with a serious stare. You sigh and lean forward to press a kiss over his hearts, the fabric of his tunic is smooth, and you rest your cheek against it. 

Now that you are in Vulkans arms, all strength has left you, adrenaline fading and in its place the exhaustion in your bones blooms. Making your muscles feel both hollow and heavy, your limbs leaden and like your very core buckles under its own weight, threatening to collapse with every breath.

“Do I need to stay awake?” You murmur, nuzzling into the warm safety of your Primarch as your eyes begin to droop.

“Just a few minutes, my treasure. Just for the Apothecaries to check you over.” He said quietly. You heaved a sigh of ‘okay’ as you pushed against him to sit up properly and face the trio of healers, though one was already attending to Kessok, thankfully.

The pair attending you worked seamlessly, checking you over, disinfecting wounds you didn't even know you had, patching you up, and asking questions that you could only half-answer. The details of the fight were sparse, though a few blurry details were beginning to form, like mist fading in the morning light. Rocks digging into your legs as you slide, the thrashing tail of the salamander beast as it snarled, the hot breath that carried the scent of rotting meat and death, Kessoks determined glare as he took aim…

It was quickly determined that you would need to go to a medical facility to aid in your recovery. Vulkan stood with you in his arms.

“Wait, My Lady.” Kessok spoke up as his brothers helped him stand, intent on also dragging him to a medical facility. Probably a different one, better suited to Astartes. “I think you’re forgetting something.” he says meaningfully, glancing from you to the beast behind them.

“Oh!” You sit up in your husband's arms, pausing to give a grateful smile to the grinning Salamander, before focusing your attention on the confused man holding you. “Vulkan, I formally present my offering to you.” You gesture to the dead salamander beast, “With Kessok as my hunting partner, who bravely aided me in this trial, and your sons as my witnesses, I give you proof of my devotion to you and intent to be worthy of you.”

Vulkan said nothing. Just stared. At you, at the beast, at the decimation of the area. Worry and nervousness began to eat at the edges of your heart as the silence dragged on. You looked to Kessok for guidance, suddenly fearing you had said it wrong. You know there’s no set script, not like with your people, for this, but you’re fairly certain you said the right things.

He gave you a comforting smile, which eased you somewhat, and you turned your attention back to the man you loved.

Finally, he turned his eyes back to you. You felt subtle tremors, fine and hidden, but there. Vulkan took in a slow, shaking breath, before gently lifting you up high so he could bury his nose in your hair. He took deep, measured breaths, those tremors growing in intensity for a moment before settling.

“You honour me. You honour my legion, my people, and I could not be more proud to have you at my side.” He announced, his words were smooth and steady, spoken lowly but you knew his sons heard. You press up into him, letting your hand rest in the crook of his neck.

“But never do this again?” You ask quietly, letting the moment pass.

“Never.” He agrees, fervent and voice heavy with emotion.

“Don’t plan to. How did it even get into the city?” You wonder, settling back down into his arms, letting him carry you towards the Thunderhawk.

“I’m not sure, but I plan to find out. It’s likely the construction caused a disturbance, on top of an increase in geographical activity, much of the fauna may have been displaced, leading to this one wandering too close to the city.” he sighed, “it doesn’t help that the perimeter alarms have not been properly set up yet. Whatever the case, I shall confer with the elders to confirm the cause and do what we must to ensure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“Hmm.” You hum in understanding, steadily losing the battle to keep your eyes open. You feel lips on the top of your head.

“Sleep, my love. You need rest now.”

“Be there when I wake up?” You mutter, clutching at his tunic even as you sink into the comfortable darkness of sleep.

“Of course, nothing could keep me elsewhere.”

With that, you succumbed, and slept.

***

@incrediblethirst, @kit-williams, @beckyninja, @bleedingichorhearts, @jaghatai-khock, @pluvio-tea, @moodymisty, @thethronezone, @iluminatka16, @runin64, @vithralith, @mooniequeen

[huhmiya]

CINEMA | chris sturniolo

pairing: bf!chris x f!reader

summary: you and chris went to the cinema to watch a new film that you both had been eagerly anticipating. he wanted to have a special time together, considering it a cinema date. however, once in the cinema, he became too aroused because of you, leading to him getting carried away and having to excuse himself with you to the bathroom, which resulted in missing most of the film.

warning: smut, fingering, swearing, pet names (ma, love, good girl, darling), use of y/n, public place, dominant chris, bathroom sex, needy chris, hair pulling, ass grabbing, p in v, unprotected sex.

a/n: not my photos, found on pinterest. not sure about this one tbh.

WORDS: 2.8k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

You and Chris have been eagerly waiting to watch a film at the cinema for the past few months. His identical brothers expressed interest in joining, but Chris preferred to have some alone time with you.

"What would you like?" he asked, who already ordered popcorn and a Pepsi for himself. He insisted on paying for your items, not letting you pay.

As he ordered what you wanted and handed you your items, his contagious smile made you smile back. "Thank you," you said, which caused him to smile a little more before grabbing his popcorn and Pepsi.

Walking into the movie theater together, he took your spare hand and led you to your seats, pulling you down next to him. As you settled down, he watched your movements, admiring the shape of your thighs as they spread out slightly due to you sat down. He adored your thighs.

"Would you like a hand?" he asked, eager to feel the touch of your skin. He cherished the sensation of your touch and was willing to do anything to maintain that connection, even if it meant giving up his YouTube career.

Ignoring the fact that you didn't actually need assistance, he was determined to help to you. As you reached for the snack you had mentioned wanting, he swiftly took them from you and placed them where you intended. "Really?" you muttered, to which he responded with a smile, revealing his teeth.

He rested his hand on your thigh and gently squeezed it, relishing the feel of your soft skin against his warm palm.

"I sometimes wonder how I managed to win you over," he whispered before planting a kiss on your cheek. When he noticed the movie had started, he shifted slightly to get more comfortable in his seat, while keeping his hand on your thigh still.

The movie started playing, capturing both of your attentions since you both had been eager to watch it ever since seeing the promising trailer.

His thumb gently caressed your upper thigh, inching closer to your intimate area, though he was unaware as his soul intention was to provide you comfort, which he achieved flawlessly.

His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you rather than the film for the past ten minutes, finding your profile captivating despite your self-perception. "Stop staring," you playfully scolded, glancing at your boyfriend who only smirked in response, refusing to divert his gaze from you.

"Your beauty mesmerizes me, darling. How can I not resist looking at you?" he whispered, stealing a few more glances before turning back to the movie.

You playfully rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek, causing him to raise an eyebrow before returning his blue orbs at you.

He casually moved his hand from your thigh and brushed your hair away from your face, using it as an excuse to touch your skin even more.

Chris found himself looking at you once more than at the film you both had been eager to watch ever since hearing about it. "Okay, my beauty can't be that good," you teased, catching his stare again.

"Trust me, it is," Chris whispered, placing his hand back on your thigh. Though his hand was now closer to your warmth which is between your legs, you were wearing shorts and a fresh love shirt that Chris had given you earlier before you both headed out to see this movie.

As you both finally focused on the movie, he couldn't help but feel a stirring in his body, drawn in by your scent and the softness of your skin against his.

Quietly, he adjusted his shorts and boxers, subtly shifting in his seat to compose himself without drawing your attention to the growing intensity he was experiencing.

Despite feeling exposed in his vulnerability, he couldn't resist the desire for more.

Observing your engrossment in the film, he scanned the surroundings and noted the proximity of other moviegoers, ensuring that the slight thrill of the moment was contained within a safe distance. The other couple nearby though remained on the opposite side of the aisle, four rows behind you both.

"What are you looking at?" Your question caused him to turn his head towards you suddenly, his heart skipping a beat as he jumped slightly in surprise at your unexpected message.

"I was checking out the people around us, seeing how far away we are from everyone else," he explains, as his finger traces from your upper thigh to your shorts.

"I wanna pleasure you.. I'll make sure no one sees, but you must promise to stay quiet, okay?" His words were laced with desire. His speech made you surprised and confused due to how bold it was.

You trusted him, so you spoke, which made him smirk because those were the words he wanted to hear. "okay..."

He made sure no one was looking before taking off your shorts. He couldn't help but smile like a kid in a candy store. He loved when you were like this with him, especially when he was feeling aroused.

He pulled your shorts off, but only up to your knees, so if someone did happen to see, he could quickly pull them back up before security noticed or something.

He rubbed his thumb against your thong, making you widen your eyes, which caused him to quietly chuckle so it wasn’t attracting anyone attention, except from you.

He felt your wetness seep through, which prompted him to whisper in your ear, "Didn't know you needed me that badly," as he bit your earlobe and then kissed your cheek.

He discreetly kept watch to see no one was looking, as he had promised not to let anyone catch a glimpse. His hand moved to the waistband of your thong.

As he began to pull them down, revealing your bare pussy that he adored, his fingers gently caressed your folds before teasingly slipping one finger inside, aware of your desire for more.

Feeling himself grow harder because of you, he set aside his own needs to focus on pleasuring you.

You attempted to stifle any sounds to avoid drawing attention, trying to concentrate on the movie, even though the pleasure he was giving you was incredible.

Unexpectedly, he added two more fingers, intending to use only two but ending up with three inside you. He skillfully curled them once he located your g-spot.

His arousal evident but yet he refrained from touching himself or adjusting in his boxers, solely focused on satisfying you.

He watched as you bit your lip and closed your eyes in pleasure while he pleasured you with his fingers. He increased the pace, his thumb teasing your sensitive spot, causing you to squirm with delight, a reaction he enjoyed, knowing he was satisfying you.

"Close?" he whispered, his intense blue eyes focused on you, observing how your innocence transformed into desire as he brought you to climax with his familiar touch.

You refrained from speaking, both aware that a moan could escape your lips and draw unwanted attention in the cinema. Instead, you simply nodded in response.

He noticed your body tense around his fingers, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as you reached your peak.

Thankfully, you managed to stifle any loud sounds when you coated his fingers, although it was a challenge to contain your pleasure. You breathed heavily, releasing your lip from where you had bitten it hard enough to draw blood.

He withdrew his fingers, licking them clean before helping you adjust your clothing, ensuring that no one noticed the intimate moment you shared in the cinema.

“Are you okay, love?" He asked, wanting to ensure your well-being, not wanting you to feel irritated later by what had happened, especially if someone had seen, even though no one knew or anything similar.

"No, I'm not," you replied playfully. Chris froze for a moment before realizing it was in jest. He smiled and playfully twirled a few strands of your hair.

He found himself needing to touch himself even more, still feeling a throbbing pain. He had completely forgotten about the film and his desire earlier.

"y/n," he said your name quietly, savoring the sound of it. What made it even better for him was that his brother would sometimes express annoyance when you weren't shopping with them or somewhere else, chris always mentioned how you would love something or recounting a story about you.

You looked at him and smiled, your focus now on him rather than the film. You didn't know what was happening in the movie as most of the time you were being pleasured by him.

He knew he couldn’t come out with it directly, so he began by asking a few questions in order to lead up to the main reason. “Do you know what's happening in the movie, because I'm a bit lost?”

His needs were escalating, and he reached out to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Not really,” you reply honestly. Even though both of you have wanted to watch the movie, he was relieved by your answer right now.

“Should we just skip it? I can get tickets for us to see it tomorrow or something,” he offers. As you look at him, he uses his spare hand to discreetly touch himself through his shorts and boxers, trying to stifle his moans. You hadn’t notice that yet.

“I don’t mind, do you?” you inquire. He remains silent for a moment, trying to contain himself as he struggles with the urge to climax while discreetly touching himself.

He removes his hand with hesitation and made his other hand stop holding yours. Instead he grabs your wrist, guiding it to his throbbing member.

“I need you. I need to be close to you, please ma.” He whispered, his eyes locked on yours in the dark movie theater, illuminated only by the flickering light of the movie screen.

His hands wandered over your thighs. "Please," he pleaded softly. You knew you couldn't, even though you wanted to. If you engaged in intimacy here, someone would surely see you two and get security.

"We can't. We'll get caught," you said, causing him to roll his eyes and quickly suggest, "Shall we go to the bathroom?" He was willing to beg on his knees if necessary.

He was consumed by his desire for you, feeling a relentless need that left him in torment. He understood his craving and it was to be close to you, to be inside you.

You were about to say yes, but he didn’t wait any longer. He grabbed your arm and stood up, leading you out of the theater, possibly heading to the restroom.

“I can't wait any longer, I need you so badly. I feel like I'm going crazy,” he said, taking you to the men's bathroom where no one else was present. He entered a stall and started kissing you passionately.

He pressed his knee against the area between your legs, his kisses were intense yet filled with love. He slipped his tongue into your mouth as you reciprocated.

Moaning, he squeezed your ass through your shorts. “I'm so lucky to have you, I have no complaints,” he said after pulling away and moving to kiss your neck, marking you as his own.

You removed his shorts, letting them fall to the ground, but neither of you cared as desire took over. He was aroused in his boxers.

He then helped you remove your shirt, as he also discarded his own.

You playfully tease him, calling him 'so needy,' but he just rolls his eyes with a small chuckle and takes off your bra, casually dropping it on the stall floor.

He gazes at your breasts and begins to caress your nipple, eliciting a soft moan from you. “You love that ma?” he whispers. “mhm”

He kisses your lips and undresses you, leaving you naked while he remains in boxers.

Your hands explore his body until you remove his boxers, feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “I need you y/n” he confesses.

Your touch has him on the verge of climaxing, but he desires to be inside you, savoring the sound of your sweet moans blending with the rhythm of your bodies together.

"I need you too," your voice was like music to his ears, and he didn't hesitate; his pre-cum was already leaking from his pink tip.

He turned you around, admiring your beloved ass for various reasons: the way it gently bounced as you walked, when he took you from behind, when he rested his head on your back while you lay on your stomach.

Brushing your hair aside, he kissed your shoulder before entering you, causing you to moan. "Be loud for me, my love, no one here," he urged.

He started to thrust inside you, causing a blend of pain and pleasure that made you moan, but he was whispering things to make you forget about the pain.

His size initially caused discomfort as he stretched you, but as you got more used to it and he stimulated your G-spot, the pain gradually faded, making room for heightened pleasure.

He continued to thrust in and out of you, kissing your neck and jawline, pulling your hair to reach your sensitive spots.

The sound of your bodies coming together echoed in the empty cinema restroom where you were alone, intensifying the intimate moment.

As he moaned at the tightness, his hands explored your body, focusing on your breasts by pinching your nipples.

"I'm so close to climaxing when your so tight around me," he whispered. He heard the bathroom door creek so he was alerting you to the presence of someone else entering the restroom. He quickly covered your mouth and urged you to be silent.

Despite the interruption, he didn't stop, instead becoming more intense and faster, making it challenging for you to contain your moans.

He listened to the sound of someone washing their hands and then leaving. “Good girl for staying quiet,” he whispered.

He tugged your hair to make you look at him while he was having sex with you from behind. His blue eyes locked on yours. “Keep looking at me like that, and I'll have to punish you,” he said firmly before releasing your hair and gripping your hip.

As he was reaching climax, you could sense it by the way his large member twitched. He thrust hard into you, causing you to moan loudly.

It felt like he was discovering new pleasure spots you never knew existed. “Chris.. I'm close,” you gasped.

“Me too, darling,” he murmured. With that, he climaxed inside you, continuing to move inside you vigorously until you also reached orgasm.

As he finished, his hot release mixed with yours, dripping out of you onto the bathroom stall floor.

“fuck ma, I love you,” he said, pulling out with a pop and then adjusting your position to see your face.

You looked adorable in his eyes, with sweat glistening and a lazy smile as you were catching your breath, mirroring his own. He gently wiped the mascara off your cheek and kissed your lips softly, briefly pausing before diving into a passionate make-out session.

“I love you more,” you whispered after he pull away but he embraced you, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other. He rested his head on your shoulder, his fingers entwined in your hair.

“Impossible,” he murmured softly before pulling away to clean you up with a tissue, help you put your clothes back on, and then get dressed himself.

“Let’s get out of here,” you suggested, both of you eager to leave and head back to his place.

He took your hand and led you out of the men's bathroom before anyone could see. His thumb caressed your palm as he exited the cinema with you.

“I promise to buy another ticket... maybe tomorrow? Who knows, we might have another round,” he smirked, placing his hand on your hip instead of holding hands.

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[viixenvi]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 18+

Summary: You have been planning to steal some information from the Avengers compound. You successfully break in but what happens when the one person you never wanted to see again ends up catching you?

Characters: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

Warnings: Torture, fighting, reader gets caught and tied up, heavy make-outs, slight flirting, some oral (Nat receiving), reader leaves Nat high and dry, villain fem!reader (Reader and Nat hate fuck whenever they catch each other guys)

This was not my best work, actually kinda bad and not proofread so forgive mistakes and like forgive me if it's bad I just had this idea weeks ago and decided to actually write it at 3 AM

Minors DNI

It was only a matter of time before you could escape. Sneaking into the Avengers compound was hard, it took weeks of planning and landing a job as a maid.

Stark was always hiring and it was just perfect when you got a call back that you had been selected for the job. Of course, this job came with risks to your plan. If you were suspected at all by any of the avengers you'd be finished. Which is exactly why you had a disguise.

Shape shifting was your specialty. It had just happened oneday, you woke up with powers of some sorts. You had no idea how to control them or how you even got them.

You were hoping this hard drive you were planning to take had the answers to some of your problems. You could only change your appearance, make others see you differently.

The only person you had to avoid at all costs was Natasha. She knew things about you that you hadn't told anyone else. You and her had a long history, one that you prefer not to think about. You had fought her previously, working with Loki. That went down hill fast and you managed to stay low since then.

Now you were definitely going to set off their radars. You have a plan though, you always have a plan.

"Can you get the lab too while you are at it?" Tony asks me as I mop the floor. I look up and nod, giving him a shy smile. He walks away, his phone in his hand.

Perfect excuse to be in his lab. You walk towards the lab, your heart racing. It was time, finally. You felt relieved, it was finally going to be over and you'd never have to see the avengers ever again.

"You are not authorized to enter this area." The voice startles you slightly. J.A.R.V.I.S was a pain to deal with.

"Mr. Stark asked me to mop the lab," You tell him. You hear nothing or a minute before the card scanner beeps with a green light and the doors click. That was surprisingly..easy?

This was too easy, you hesitate for a moment. You glance around the lab before your eyes land on a hard drive. It's the hard drive. No way Tony would just leave this out conveniently, not when he knew there was a chance it would be stolen by anyone.

But it's right there, and you don't think you have another chance. So you slowly walk up to the table, pretending to mop and swiping the drive off the table.

It swiftly makes the journey to your pocket and you walk out of the lab, leaving the mop on the floor. You have no idea how you can get out without at least being detected.

Stark was far from stupid, but your powers deceived him enough. Now all you had to do was fake an emergency and leave. You pick up the phone, pretending to get a call and panicking.

You find Steve in the living room, cleaning his shield off. "Can you please tell Mr. Stark I have to leave? There's a family emergency!" You spit out before he can really react. You are in the elevator as he says he will.

Something about the way he looked at you was confusing. He didn't even ask if everything was alright like you thought he would. If Steve was one thing, he was compassionate.

You knew they knew about your plans, or at least that you were there to steal the drive. As if on cue, the elevator doors open and Natasha is staring right at your face.

"Hello милый," her voice is sweet, just like how it used to be. You stand there for a moment, drinking in her features. You had spent the past weeks avoiding her and you never got the chance to really see her.

"Natasha, any chance you can let me go?" You say, one hand on the back of your neck as you laugh awkwardly. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. So it's a no.

Her fist raises to your face and you block it, swiping your leg under hers. She falls back and manages to flip onto her feet. You land a punch to her face, which angers her.

She kicks your stomach, causing you to stumble back. Before you can even think, she punches your face. You can feel the blood gushing out of your nose. You wipe it away with your hand while Natasha stands in front of you. She's focused on your face and movements.

You could tell she was analyzing you. You both hadn't fought each other in a while and it was obvious you were holding back. You couldn't get yourself to hurt her.

Natasha runs past you, jumping up off the wall and wrapping her legs around your neck. You pin her arms back and lean down, flipping her over in front of you. She breaks free from your grasp and jumps, spinning and kicking you directly in the face.

You fall over and close your eyes, consciousness barely hanging on. Natasha is a damn good fighter and you could admit it. Natasha hovers over you, pulling the drive out of your pocket.

"Some things don't change," She says just before you black out.

When you finally wake up, pain surges through your body. The familiar metallic taste of blood in your mouth reminds you of what happened.

You move to pull your hands free but it seems they cuffed you with some heavy metal cuffs. They definitely seem to be stopping your powers from being used. You are in a bedroom, which seems to be weird for the team as they have their own interrogation room and cells.

A figure comes into view and you know it's Natasha. "It's funny, you always end up in front of me bound by something," She chuckles. I sigh and close my eyes, the headache pounding in my head is not helping the pain.

"If you are going to kill me, just do it."

Natasha pulls her knife out, pushing the tip under my chin and lifting my head. "Aw, you wound me, baby."

"Don't call me that," You spit, clenching your jaw. You and Natasha always had a love-hate relationship. You were a villain and her job was to kill them.

"Tell me why you need the drive and maybe we can have a little fun," She whispers in your ear. You decide to play along, long enough for her to get you out of these cuffs.

"If I tell you, will you take these cuffs off?" You ask, giving her a defeated look.

"Yes."

"They paid me to take it, said there are plans on it they need. I didn't get any other information. I just know that they can kill me easily." Natasha sits on the chair across from you, spinning her knife in her hand.

"Who?"

"I have no idea. Some alien guy, he's weird looking," You tell her. You try to steady your heartbeat and avoid actions that will tell her you are lying.

Natasha seems to like this answer because she gets up and walks behind you. A moment later, the cuffs are no longer clasped on your hands.

You feel Natasha's hands on your shoulders, gliding down your arms. You almost shiver at her touch. You don't want to play into this, but she has given you no choice.

There's a smile on her face when you spin around, your hands on her waist. Your lips meet hers and the kiss is almost electric. Her lips are soft and you taste the cherry lipgloss.

She pushes you onto the bed but you flip over and get on top of her, unzipping her suit. Her belt is thrown onto the floor, not before you take something out of it.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," You whisper against the skin of her neck. You kiss down it, your warm lips sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands roam your body, pulling up your shirt. You stop her before she can fully take it off. "No, let me take care of your first, baby."

She pulls you into a kiss before you descend down her body, leaving trails of kisses. You pull the rest of the suit down to her ankles, kissing up her thigh.

You reach her lips, kissing them before spreading her legs and pushing your face close. Your tongue glides over her clit, circling it. Natasha moans, lifting her hips up and throwing her head back.

You wanted so badly to finish what you started, but you needed the drive and Natasha wasn't going to distract you again.

So you pull away, crawling on top of her and grabbing her face to kiss her. You carefully place a tazer disk on her neck and get off her before activating it.

Natasha gasps and falls unconscious from the tazer and you cover her up with a blanket. This was payback for the last time she caught you. This was your thing, always leaving the other wanting more. It kept up the attraction.

This time you may have gone too far, but your life depended on getting this drive and you didn't care what you did to get it.

You won this time.

[feyascorner]

1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly). 

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door. 

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him. 

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating. 

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately. 

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. 

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood.  “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

��Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

[ariichive]

good food, good company

o. miya

in which osamu understands the meaning of: the best memories are made around the table.

fluff | domestic | reader and osamu have a kid | really fluffy | established relationship/marriage | fem reader | just a teeny bit suggestive towards the end

"pass the nori, please, mai."

osamu asked of his 6-year-old daughter without taking his eyes off of the rice cooker. "okay papa!" a sweet voice filled his heart with warmth; he looked up at his daughter, seeing her carefully carry the nori as if trying not to rip it. he chuckled at his daughter, taking the dried seaweed from her tiny hands.

"thank you, yer my favorite lil helper." osamu gave his daughter a quick kiss on the forehead before focusing back on his task: tonight's dinner. mai giggled at his praise and cheered to herself, "yes! anything to help ma."

"yes, anything to help ma," he repeated her words to her with a smile never leaving his face. he knew how hard you worked for your family, making sure you come home to dinner already made is the least he could do.

mai watched as osamu took a section of the now cooled-off rice into his hands.

"papa, can ya shape them into hearts or stars?"

"what do we say when we ask for something, mai?" osamu lightly scolded as mai pouted. "p-please..."

"there ya go," osamu smiled and patted her head gently, "yeah, we can do that today." osamu glanced quickly at the clock; 20 minutes until you get home. "watch me shape it, and then you can give it a go, sound good?" he watched his daughter nod excitedly.

osamu's skilled hands swiftly molded the rice into a heart shape, looking up occasionally to make sure Mai was watching. and she was; intensely at that. her eyes were sparkling in awe and her hands were clenched together. "doin' a heart will be easier for you than a star, okay? focus on those." osamu walked his daughter through her first onigiri, making sure her hands were wet and had enough salt on them. he showed her the different fillings of umeboshi and spicy salted pollock roe and how to apply the nori. when he felt she was prepared enough, he let her free.

starting on the star shapes, osamu hummed quietly to himself, smiling when he heard his daughter start to hum too. it was a very sweet moment which he got to experience on the regular.

eventually, osamu finished his onigiri. the perfect shapes staring proudly back at him. with a satisfied nod, he turned to see how mai was doing and-

-oh.

"honey, what happened?" osamu gently asked as he noticed she was holding back tears, her chubby cheeks pouting and little sniffles coming out her nose. her station was a bit of a mess, but that was the least of osamu's worries of now. "t-they w-won't stay together!" mai blurted out as she ran to her dads arms, hugging him as she cried into his chest. stealing a quick glance at her work area, he noticed the squashed pieces.

"s'alright mai, i'm here to help ya." osamu wiped her tears with his sleeve. "lets go wash our hands and i'll walk you through it again, yeah?" mai nodded her head as she followed her dad to their sink.

after successfully washing their hands and calming mai down, the two were back at the counter. "i'm thinkin' you were using too much pressure."

"o-oh.."

osamu noticed the sad look on her face and immediately did his best to fix it. "that just means yer growing up to be real strong, just like mama." at his words, mai's eyes lightened tremendously.

the two of them continued finishing up the last of dinner. they finished setting plates and getting glasses of water set down as soon as the front door opened.

"ma!" mai ran to the door, almost tripping causing osamu's heart to drop for a quick second.

"mai!" you squealed back with just as much excitement, squatting down to her level so she could give you a proper hug. "how's my beautiful daughter?" you asked with a smile. "good! papa and i made ya dinner!" at that, you looked up at osamu with a big smile. "oh, what would i do without you two?"

osamu gave you a quick kiss on the lips and grabbed your purse from you, "probably starve." you laughed at his words, choosing to ignore the little truth in his words.

as you all sat down at the table, osamu couldn't help but appreciate his family. this was the life he had always dreamed of, and couldn't imagine it with anyone else.

he stared at the fourth seat left empty at the dining room table. maybe another kid wouldn't be so bad right now.

osamu sent you a look that had you sitting up straighter in your seat.

literally loved writing this one ! I see osamu as a girl dad for sure

if you liked this pls reblog and like :)

[lotusloong]

Can you maybe write MKR!Wukong confessing his feelings to the reader? Please?

Gentle Pace

Relationship: MKR!Sun Wukong X Female Harpy!Reader

AN: Hoooo okay I am very sorry for how long it took to get this out, the past two-ish weeks have been pretty hectic irl, so my writing has been suffering a little. I finally got this done tho, I really hope you like it! I did try to get him to actually confess but MKR!Wukong was just like 'no im too emotionally guarded' so I got the closest thing to it.

Tags: Fluff, Sort of love confessions

Read it on AO3!

The fire crackles and flickers light over him, its warmth seeping into his bare feet. His hands are folded in front of him as he tries, and fails, to meditate.

Things had been quiet since the defeat of Yuandi, and Wukong feels the creeping dread of suspicion settling into his bones once more. Any day now, any moment, there's going to be another attack from yaoguais looking to steal his Master away. He knows it's coming, but that doesn’t stop the feeling of unease that the calm before the storm leaves him with.

Despite his efforts to meditate, he feels restless. His tail keeps twitching where it curls in the grass behind him, the only thing keeping it flat on the ground being the tiny fruit spirit curled up with the limb, using his fur as a blanket. Further behind him in the tree line, you sit and make up your sleeping area for the night. Wukong peeks at you over his shoulder, watching with quiet fascination as you make a pseudo-nest in the branches of a tree to get comfortable. Your colorful tail feathers dangle from the branch you sit on as you tie branches and leaves together, lining the semi circular shape with cloth from a bedroll you had purchased and subsequently tore into pieces. Every time your group moves on you collect all the fabric pieces you can, storing them in a bag to use for your next night of camping.

You look up from your little nest, meeting his eyes. He startles, looking back at the fire in front of him and trying in vain to stop the blush from rising in his cheeks. His ears twitch as he hears you glide down from your spot, your form settling down next to his in the soft grass. 

“You look lonely.” You tease. Wukong scoffs in mock offense, crossing his arms and scowling at the fire. 

“I'm the Monkey King, a yaoguai with power equal to heaven. I don't get lonely.” He huffs.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I have Fruitie.” You spare a glance at the tiny spirit just as he rolls off Wukong's tail, hands reaching for a fallen leaf in his sleep that he brings closer to cuddle, promptly snapping the dried material into little pieces. The little guy is drooling on the grass.

“Seems like good company.” You grin. His eyes dart down to your lips, wondering not for the first time how soft they must feel. They look soft, he thinks he would enjoy feeling them against his own…

Wukong jolts, glaring off into the starry night sky and hoping you won't notice his blush. Or if you do, that you'll blame it on the heat of the fire. The silence stretches on as you sit together, your presence bringing comfort to him he didn’t want to admit he craved. Your smell surrounds him, the sound of your steady, even breaths soothing his own nerves. His claws twitch in his lap, the desire to reach out to you and hold you prickling at his skin.

Would you let him? If he reached his hand out right now, just to set it on top of yours and gently pull you closer and into his lap, would you let him? Your sweet face tucked into the safety of his own neck, his lips able to press against the crown of your head…

The rustling of feathers catches his attention. You’ve unfolded one of your wings from your back, laying the limb out in your lap to preen and fix the feathers. They look so soft and colorful, and Wukong finds he (not for the first time) wants to trail his fingers over them all, to see what kind of sound you would make with his touch on such a sensitive part of you…

And then your fingers reveal a spot missing feathers, the skin underneath still rough and scarred. Wukong remembers how it happened, watching you soaring through the air to try and save Fruitie, to pull the tiny spirit to safety where Yuandi wouldn’t be able to follow, only for a dark tendril to spear into your wing. You had screamed and went spiraling, crashing into the dirt far from Wukong, where he couldn’t protect you-

He frowns.

You notice. You always notice when his mood changes.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” You whisper. He glances up at you, your eyes earnest and genuine as you try to reassure him. He looks away, huffing hot air from his nose in response.

“I didn’t say anything.” He grumbles.

“You didn’t have to.”

He huffs again, shoulders tense. Why are you so good at reading him? Why does he let you so close?

Wukong sighs, the tension draining from him and replaced with weariness. He knows why.

You suddenly stand up next to him and pat him on the head, fingers weaving through his soft fur. He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow and forces himself not to chitter in pleasure at the feeling of you petting him.

“Come on. Let’s go for a soar, get some of that pent up energy out of you.” With that you step away from the fire, stretching your arms high above your head and letting your wings stretch open to their full length. He watches where he still sits - the colors of your feathers look dazzling in the firelight. You glance over your shoulder at him, a coy smile on your lips.

“Well?” You call, a challenging tone to your voice. Wukong jolts, blinking rapidly before jumping into the air, summoning his cloud beneath him to land on. He glances at where Fruitie is still curled up, his broken leaf still clutched in his tiny hands. His gaze moves to Master Tang under a tree at the edge of the camp, his sleeping face peaceful.

Satisfied, he nods to himself and turns back to you, smirking deviously.

“Bet I could catch you.” He growls low in his throat, lowering himself into a crouched position on his cloud. Your eyes widen at his words, heat rushing to your cheeks. You giggle, and with a snap of your wings you're off the ground, speeding away from him.

Wukong takes off after you, the chill night breeze invigorating him as he gives chase.

One of his favorite things about your late night flying sessions together? You’re one of the few beings he knows (and enjoys the company of) that can keep up with his speed. You’re far ahead of him already, wings spread wide and gaining more distance with every flap. He doesn’t have to force himself to slow down to give you a chance of winning your game, you push him to actually use up his energy. 

You give him a challenge.

He loves it.

He somersaults over the reaching branches of a tree and lands on a new cloud, eyes never leaving you. You glance back at him, smiling with teeth and giving him a cheeky wave from your safe distance. The familiar feeling of competition floods through his veins and Wukong urges himself to go faster, pushing more power into his cloud. You follow suit, arching your wings high and pushing yourself higher up towards the cloud layer above you both. He watches as your tail feathers disappear above the puffy whiteness and turns his cloud to follow.

The dazzling sight of the milky way greets him above the cloud layer, the moon bright and full where it sits. Your colorful feathers seem to glisten under the light, and Wukong feels breathless as he watches you dive and arch through the air before him. 

The chase seems less important now, as he flies closer to you and spins in unison with your own form. You laugh in glee, following his circle as you move through the air, the wind rushing past you both. Your hands stretch towards him, and he doesn't hesitate for a moment before he's grabbing you back, the two of you spinning around and around with the stars around you. Energy courses through his veins and leaves him excited, your smell on the wind and your smile across from him. 

He slows down, gently tugging your warm hands into following his motions. You follow his lead and let yourself come to a gentle stop in the air, your feet coming to rest on his cloud. 

“Done already?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. “Growing old, Monkey King?” Wukong gives an amused huff at your words, rolling his eyes even as he grins at you. 

“Not done, just…wanted to take a moment.” He admits. You cock your head to the side in question but don't pull away. He's thankful for it, his heart beating a million miles a second as he watches you. 

You go out of your way to help him and his…emotional difficulties. He knows he's a hard ass, Bajie wouldn't hesitate to bad mouth him to anyone who would listen, but you always seem to have patience for him. More than that, you actually empathize with him, trying to help him understand his frustrations and anger when it's too much. 

It hadn't been his idea to go on nightly flights over the world when he grew tense, but yours. You had taken one look at him that first night, tail flicking in irritation and a snarl on his lips, before clapping your hands and demanding he go flying with you. He had resisted at first, unwilling to leave his Master and suspicious of your intentions still. You knew how to read him even then though, and had challenged him with no hesitation to prove that he could fly better. 

Since then it has become your little ritual, a way for the two of you to get away from everyone else when things are too much.

Wukong wishes he had a way to tell you all this, how much he appreciates your presence and help. How much he's come to rely on your steady, calm demeanor compared to his feisty vengeful one. 

How much you mean to him. 

His hand comes up between the two of you, reaching for your cheek before he freezes, uncertainty making him second guess himself. 

Your eyes follow his movement, and for one heart stopping moment he thinks this is it, you're going to scoff at him and pull away. That you'll glare and call him a ‘bastard monkey’ for daring to even think such soft thoughts about you. He's a brute, a greedy yaoguai that would break something as gentle as you…

But you don't do that. 

You step closer to him, your own hand coming up to grip him by the wrist and bring it up to your face. His breath catches in his throat and he swallows, eyes locked with yours. He feels the gentle pressure of your lips on the pad of his pointer finger, followed by pressure on his middle, then his ring and then his pinky. His thumb is the last to get a kiss, and you trail those incredibly gentle lips down to his palm and finally the soft inner part of his wrist where you hold it. 

Your eyes never leave his the whole time.

When you're finished, you place his hand on your cheek on purpose, nuzzling against his calloused skin like it's the best thing you've ever felt, your eyes fluttering closed. He shudders in delight, closing his eyes as he savors the feeling of your skin under his rough claws. It’s overwhelming, just this simple touch has him losing himself. He wants more, but he can’t, you’re too soft, too right and comfortable. It’s dangerous to feel this way.

Not that he even deserves your affection if he can’t even say the damn words clawing at the back of his throat.

“I…I want…” He chokes, frustrated with himself. His free hand curls into a fist as his brow furrows in concentration. Why is this so hard? How did you make it look so easy? It’s a perfect moment even - the moon shining bright above you both with an endless starry sky, white puffy clouds under your feet. This is the kind of moment that hopeless romantics dream of when it comes to romance, to have a confession in such a beautiful place. 

He wants to tell you, he wants to share the quiet spaces of his stone heart with you and only you…if you would have him.

“Wukong.” You come to his rescue, as usual. “It’s alright.”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything you aren’t ready for.” You whisper to him, like it’s a secret only the two of you will ever share. A growl reverberates through his chest, anger directed at himself. 

“I want to. I want to tell you…to-...let you know-” His fur ruffles and puffs up with agitation, and he shakes himself to get rid of the response. You hide a smile into his palm still cupping the curve of your cheek. He can feel your breath against his pulse.

“We have time.” You say, looking at him with such certainty he almost believes you.

“But-...but I…”

“Wukong. I’ll let you set the pace. We can go as fast or slow as you feel comfortable with.” A nerve is soothed inside him, your gentle reassurance more than what he could have asked for.

“And what about…about k-kissing, or-” He lets his remaining anxiety slip out, craving your soothing words. Your own hands come up to cup his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing the line of black on his cheekbones. He all but melts into your touch. He could slip through the cloud layer and fall to earth right now and he’d be content. 

“Whenever you’re ready. You can kiss me now, or tomorrow, or 500 years from now. I will wait.” Heat rises to your own cheeks, your gaze turning shy at your own words. “If all you can do right now is this-”

You use one hand to gesture around you both before bringing it back to his cheek, where he craves for it to stay.

“Joining me at beautiful sights and l-letting me hold you…h-holding me back…” Your smile makes his stomach flutter. “Then that’s enough. It’ll always be enough.”

A small, scared voice in the depths of his soul finally quiets at your words. You mean it. He can take his time to explore this with you, to learn to trust these feelings you ignited in him. He follows his instincts, moving both his hands to your waist and pulling you closer, chest to chest. He lets his forehead rest against your own, your breath mingling and your fingers still playing with the fur on his head.

“Thank you. I promise…I’ll get there.” 

The two of you stand there, under the light of stars and moon, and revel in your new shared secret.

[everand1r]

To the salon!

(Some) Twisted wonderland boys x Barbie (gn) reader.

Reader isn't based off of any specific barbie so I kept it vague. (Gn) No features are mentioned. Some are Platonic and some Romantic but you can view it either way really. These are mostly imagines? Hcs? Crack fic? idk but lemme know if I missed anything. These were pretty fun to do I might do more

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Epel, Azul, Sebek

Transporting to a new world is something you are used to, you've been on many adventures and have gained many skills and degrees along the way that starting anew isn't a new experience. Although living in a rundown dorm isn't ideal, It just needs a little shaping! You've built stuff before you've got this. Oh but you'll need a new wardrobe too! No way can you wear one outfit all the time! I guess there's no time like the present to put them skills to use!

Riddle

• He thinks your style is cute, and admires how you always look stunning and pristine everyday without fail.

• Although you look a little TOO pristine at times, he gets confused on how you can run a mile in gym and not break a sweat, meanwhile this boy is probably gasping for air. When you explain you were an Olympic track star back in your world he has to try not to side you

• He kinda thinks your lying about your careers and all you've accomplished

• He greatly underestimates your intelligence until you barge into heartslabyul one day in your bright pink suit and a big smile on your face

  "Ace! Deuce!" You yell into the living area, the pair looking up at you from where they were studying. "Prefect, need I remind you of yelling inside?" the red head sighs. "Ah sorry sorry! I'm just so excited I had to come share!" "Is it about your trial today?" Deuce asked. "Trial....?" Riddle mumbles, slightly confused. He had no idea what you lot were talking about, but knowing you it was probably some crazy- "Yes I won my first court case today!" ......What? Court case?

"My Client was wrongfully accused of stealing and I helped them find justice! I'm so glad my skills as a lawyer can help others in this world." You boldy exclaim, chest puffing up. "Tell us all about it." Ace said turning to you fully.

Riddle sat back, tuning you all out. This boy was at a loss for words. You, a Lawyer??? How is that even possible? You're a Freshman... but Riddle recalls the time you set an Olympic World record for figure skating, and the time you hacked into a Government network using nothing but the school library computers. Maybe you being a Lawyer isn't so unrealistic after all.

Deuce

• Deuce always thought you were gorgeous and admirable, not that he would tell you that! He's too embarrassed

• It's kind of obvious though, with the way he never takes his eyes off you as you talk to him, he's got this lovesick gaze on him it makes ace roll his eyes

• Being friends with you from the beginning of the school year, he's used to you and all your skills, you still manage to surprise him from time to time though. Like creating a new life form from the potions in potionology should not be possible and yet here you are...

• Although that's what he admires about you, how you've accomplished so much at a young age. As an aspiring honor student he looks up to you. Admiration that's all it was, nothing more haha...

  When deuce got your message to come over to Ramshackle, he certainly wasn't expecting to see you arguing with a rooster and a big chicken coop in the back of the dorm. When did that even get there? "George please! just get back in the coop, everyone else listened to me!" George clucked at you, clearly not listening. "Ugh we're gonna be here forverer- Oh! Deuce you came!" You grin, diverting your eyes from the big chicken to the boy standing outside the fence. "Well don't just stand there come on in," Snapping out of his daze he goes through the fence and meets up with you. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" He asks. "Yup! I was a chicken farmer back in my world and i've just missed growing my own foods so I decided to start one here,"

You strech your arms out, signaling to the land around Ramshackle. You clasp your hands together with a soft grin on your face "I know how much you like eggs so I thought once my chickens lay some, we could make some egg dishes with it!"

   Admiration??? No no no, this boy was in Love!

Epel

• Before Epel offically met you he had seen you around, kind of hard not to with you being the most stylish person in NRC, you kinda stick out

• Although he only really got a good look at your style once he stayed at Ramshackle for the VDC.

You would come down every morning with a new oufit, hair and makeup done to a tee, he wonders if your closet is just limitless and how you have so many clothes and accessories.

• You blackmailed Crowley

• Ngl he probably thought you were one of those -prim and proper, freaks out at getting dirty- kind of person.... at first

• On the weekends when you don't have to stick around with practice, you would leave in the morning and come back later on and talk about your day at dinner, and you would always say the most insane shit Epel has ever heard in his life

"What do ya mean you discovered a new life species?" Epel glares at you from your vanity mirror. You shrug, continuing your nightly routine. Epel was sat on your bed, listening to you recount what you did today.  "Oh you should've seen it! It was a new bird species with the most gorgeous feather pattern, It took a couple of hours to find them out in the Savanna but it was so worth it." In the Savanna? You didn't look like you went to the Savanna. With your colorful outfit and perfectly manicured nails, and those glossy lips... Ugh! Epel shook his head. Just what is he thinking? But as he looks up at you, fully turned around, he can't help but notice just how stunning you really are.

Azul

• He doesn't really like you so he thinks

• But he's kinda intimidated by you, like most others in the school he underestimates you until he tried to take Ramshackle from you

• He was NOT prepared for you to list off all the shady and bordering on illegal business practices he was doing. How did you figure him out so quickly?? Did you also run a business perhaps?? the answer is yes, you do.

• You don't like his methods and try to talk to all his potential clients as you are fim beilever that if you put your mind to it, you can be anything! No need to sign away your powers or voice. Azul, clearly, does not like this and so there's just this mutual little rivalry between the two of you, although you do respect each other to some degree

Azul could feel his eye twitch, he has been going back and forth with you on this matter he's starting to falter. You two currently sat in the VIP room of the Mostro lounge. He's been trying to get you to sign this damn contract so he can take up your dorm. You, on the other hand are stubborn and refuse to give up the dorm you spent so much time renovating! He's beginning to wonder if it's even worth it at this point, maybe he can extend his business elsewhere... No! He's gotten this far he's not about to back down, but as he glances at you with your arms crossed and cute pout on your face, grim sitting next to you mimicking your stance... Azul feels as if he's gonna be here all night.

Sebek

• He didn't really think much of you for a while

• Sebek had more important things to worry about which is why he didn't pay attention to you until you pop out from behind Coach Vargas at Vargas camp, donning a military uniform and little yellow visor glasses, exclaiming how your gonna be the one in charge to whip up all those boys into shape.

• Sebek always thought he was prepared for any physical activity, after all he is a bodyguard in training.

• So imagine his surprise when your god forsaken training regimen has him fighting for air! HIM! The bodyguard to a prince! He never thought he would hate the sound of a whistle but by the seven can you stop blowing that damn thing?!?!

• Oh he needs a break...

  Sebek sat near the river, reflecting on the events of today when the sound of footsteps from behind bring him out of his thoughts. "There you are Sebek!" you exclaim, stopping right next to him. "I've been looking for you, gosh you are hard to find," He raises an eyebrow, "Looking for me?" He repeats. "Mhm! I wanted to ask you about today, Many of the other students struggled to keep up, but you were way ahead of the rest. I was curious about what you do that keeps you so fit." The half fae smirks, his already massive ego growing even more at your little observation. No way was he gonna let you know that even he had a bit of trouble with your hellish training.

"Well if you must know, I am a royal bodyguard and I must be physically fit if I am to protect my Liege." Your mouth gapes a little, "A royal bodyguard?? Wow no wonder you were able to keep up! The workouts I planned today were easier verions of the ones I gave back in my world, I wonder if I should make them even easier." You sigh, "Being a military commander isn't easy work." You nodded to yourself, currently lost in your own little world as you think of different workouts to give.

Huh???   Military commander?!