#pls i need someone to read my fic

[creamywater13]

Are You Happy? Chapter One

It had been about 3 weeks in The Labyrinth when Harry Osborn was met with the man who murdered his father. Standing in an unfamiliar office, he faced cold, emotionless lenses on a webbed mask. The so-called “hero” swiveled his chair around to see everyone, kicking his feet up on the desk. The last man Harry ever wanted to see again, much less now. “Never fear, civilians!” Spider-Man said. “Your kickass interdimensional Spider-Man is here!”

Harry had gone to work at Oscorp one morning nearly a month ago, and found himself somewhere entirely different. The day had started normally enough, waking up to an early alarm and the realization that Norman Osborn was still gone and Harry was to fill his role at Oscorp. The tie, the coffee, the phone calls. Same routine as always. A routine that had never belonged to Harry, but was arguably the most significant thing he’d inherited from Norman. Either that, or the grudge against Spider-Man. 

The lobby of Oscorp’s primary location was eerily empty and cold when Harry stepped inside that morning. However, he’d be lying if he said the place hadn’t always felt some degree of lonely to him, even when his father was still around. Maybe the receptionist was running late. Somebody would figure out that Harry was there eventually. Or so he thought, anyway, as he made his begrudging way to the elevator. Ding! The doors parted, just like always. Harry stepped inside and pressed the button. Just like always. The doors closed. Going up. Ding! The doors parted, just like–

Harry frowned, blinked. Nothing changed when he opened his eyes. He could have sworn he was on the higher levels of the Oscorp building, but found himself staring down what appeared to be a restaurant’s dimly lit, entirely lifeless kitchen. The elevator buttons still looked right, the entire interior of the elevator did. The right button was illuminated, indicating the correct floor. And the Oscorp building shouldn’t even have a restaurant like this. The elevator lights flickered. Something wasn’t right. And Harry wasn’t about to deal with it. 

Harry pressed the button again. He pressed some more buttons. Nothing. The doors didn’t close, the elevator didn’t move. Harry was out of options. He stepped out of the elevator, into the kitchen. At last, the elevator doors slid shut, without Harry. He turned around, expecting to mash the buttons on the wall until it inexplicably came back with another surprise inside. But there weren’t any buttons on the wall. The elevator wasn’t coming back, at least not at Harry’s will. Slowly, he rotated his view once more, facing the abandoned kitchen. There was only one way to go.

That night, though there was no way to tell the time, Harry encountered the Hostiles for the first time. Across the kitchen, he found an appropriately placed door, complete with two-way hinges and greasy little windows. Though they weren’t especially easy to see through, it looked like a seating area awaited Harry on the other side. And with that, hopefully, an exit. He pushed through, from the silent kitchen into a silent… yoga studio? Dark, and empty. And as he left the studio, an elementary school classroom. Empty, and dark. Endless unfamiliar locations on and on, all alone, until…

Harry huffed to himself as he opened another door. Wow, a library. What a surprise. He stepped inside, called out into the silence, just in case. 

“Hello?” He wasn’t expecting a response, it was basically just a habit at this point. “Anyone in here?” Silence, of course. Harry threw his hands up weakly. Who was he kidding anymore? He might as well get comfortable. Taking a step deeper into the forest of books, however, Harry heard something. He stopped, and listened to the sound of several books falling like a row of dominoes to the floor. Looking over, following the sound with his eyes, he could just make out a shadow behind a shelf. Harry felt a little chilled, but what were his choices?

“Hey,” he started toward the aisle, rounding the bookshelf that had just shed some of its contents. He was in the right place, there laid a small pile of books scattered on the floor, and standing over them, another person. A stranger. Harry didn’t know what to say next as he met her gaze.

She didn’t speak. She looked human, and mostly normal, but her eyes were strangely vacant. A moment of silence passed, before her focus shifted, and she saw Harry. Grabbing the nearby shelf to brace herself, the woman took a step over the books, toward Harry. He took a step back. She took another step. Harry put his hands up.

“Hey,” he said again, “wait. Were you…” Harry looked around, hoping there weren’t any other library patrons here to overhear in case he was actually just insane. “Are you lost, too?”

The woman didn’t speak, just gave Harry a mildly perplexed look that soon enough faded away as she took another step toward him. Harry had had about enough of this place. He was hungry and confused, and, nice as it was to see another human face, he was getting fed up with the whole exchange, or lack thereof.

“Can you hear me?” Harry asked, a little snappier than he would have liked. He tilted his head and gestured to his ear as the stranger came even closer. She did not react to his question at all. She only exhaled and took another step. Harry glanced around, adjusted his stance, ready to leave. Something about this didn’t feel right. She was about two feet away now. And she closed that gap very quickly.

Before Harry could ready himself, the woman had taken him by the shoulders and rammed him into the shelves to his right. She shoved and shoved him against the object until he lost his balance and fell into the bottom shelf. The stranger followed, setting herself down on Harry’s knees to grab his head and slam it against the shelves. Maybe the pain gave Harry just the sort of kick he needed, he grabbed the woman, kicked, and threw her off of him as hard as he could. He leapt to his feet, throwing books down onto the attacker, hoping to stall her as he took off.

Harry met Jane a few days later. Fortunately for him, she was just another person who had found herself as lost as he was. She told him she was a psychology professional, who had gone to a new facility for orientation after getting hired at a new job. Just like Harry, Jane had stepped inside and never back out. She, too, had spent however long wandering around an endless maze of just about everywhere, no exit anywhere in sight. She, too, had encountered an attacker. Harry and Jane decided to call them Hostiles. A way to differentiate between them, and us, as they put it. A couple weeks later, they met Jason. He called this place ‘The Labyrinth,’ and it stuck. The three of them spent their time working through the madness, trying to survive. Sometimes they’d find a kitchen, sometimes its food wouldn’t be expired. They slept when and where they could. Avoided the Hostiles. That was life as they knew it now.

About three weeks after Harry had first entered The Labyrinth, he and his companions were in an office. Not Oscorp, but probably not unlike some of the levels of the more familiar building. Harry, Jane, and Jason wove their way through cubicles, looking for something, anything of interest. It was quiet, as the Labyrinth almost always was, but the fluorescent lights overhead were working just fine, which was rather rare. It did provide the travelers with something of an advantage, however, as they searched the space. It appeared completely free of Hostiles. Though, one could never be sure when one might be hiding just out of sight, so proceeding with caution never hurt.

Harry strolled past cubicles quietly, none of them altogether interesting. He stopped short, however, upon hearing a sudden clicking sound. But it didn’t take long for it to be drowned out by the low woosh announcing the arrival of cold air rushing out of a vent near the ceiling. Harry released some of the tension in his muscles. It was just the air conditioner. A shadow moved up ahead. Papers from an empty desk being disturbed by the air flow. Nothing special, Harry kept going. The coast appeared to be clear. Harry picked up his pace, almost comfortable.

Bleedeleedeleedelee. It sounded like a phone was ringing. Where was it coming from? Harry followed the noise. Bleedeleedeleedelee. It’s not like Harry was going to answer it anyways. Was he? So why was he still trying to track it down? Bleedeleedeleedelee. He wove through the office and found Jane, reaching for the receiver. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry whispered, assuring himself he would not have done the same.

Jane looked at him quizzically, down at the phone, back at Harry. Bleedeleedeleedelee. “I think we should answer it,” She shook her head slightly, as though it was obvious. Harry broke eye contact, looking at the phone himself. Bleedeleedeleedelee. What’s the worst that could come of it?

“What if someone’s trying to track us?” Harry knew he sounded paranoid, but he had to be right. He always was.

“Like who?” Great, she’d called his bluff. Harry shook his head. Jason approached from behind him just in time. Bleedeleedel– click. Jane picked up. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end was loud. Jane had to pull the receiver away for a moment. Still, the other two couldn’t understand what was being said. Harry looked around quickly. Nothing else had changed, they still seemed to be alone. And yet, Harry’s jaw felt tight as his ears took in all the noise. 

“Who is this?” Jane said next, at an average indoor volume that Harry didn’t exactly approve of. Her eyebrows lifted as she listened. She looked over at the doorway across the room, the ultimate destination for now, dark but inviting. “Okay,” she nodded, “but how do we know that it’s not a–” Click. Jane sighed and put the phone down. “That was the Avengers,” she explained all too nonchalantly, and looked into the boys’ eyes. For a moment, Harry was speechless.

“What?” Now Jason wasn’t really watching his volume either. “How? What?”

“That’s just what he told me,” Jane shrugged and leaned back against the desk. “And that he was in the boss’s office down the hall.” She flicked her head toward their destination. “What do you two think?”

Jason nodded, but Harry didn’t know what he thought. None of this made any sense. That being the case, he had gotten a little used to the ecosystem here, and the Hostiles didn’t seem to speak at all. Worst case? It was a trap and somebody was waiting in the boss’s office to kill Harry and company. But right now? In that case they probably deserved whatever they got. It was worth a shot. 

“Fine,” Harry started walking again. “What do we have to lose?” And the other two were right behind him. 

They didn’t get any trouble in the hallway, either. The lights were off down there, save for one in a windowed room a couple doors down. That had to be it. Slowly, carefully, the small party approached. The large office chair behind the desk faced away from them. If someone was really in there, they couldn’t be seen. Jane grabbed the door handle and let herself and the others in. Just as the door shut, the man in the chair swiveled around to see them, kicking his feet up on the desk. The last man Harry ever wanted to see again, much less now.   

“Never fear, civilians!” Spider-Man said, “Your kickass interdimensional Spider-Man is here!”

Jane’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Are you…?”

“Here to save the day? You betcha. I’m guessing you guys want out of here?” Spider-Man moved the phone from his lap back to the surface of the desk. Jason stepped forward, appearing altogether relieved as his shoulders relaxed. Harry cut him off.

“We’re good.”

“Really?” Spider-Man looked a little perplexed.

“No, I,” Jane sighed, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, we’ve been in here for so long. Can you really get us out?” How could he possibly–

“Well, yeah! If I couldn’t get you out then I couldn’t get me out, and if I couldn’t get me out, well, it won’t come to that, so let’s not worry about it!”

“Okay!” Jason nodded, like he hadn’t really been listening. Spider-Man vaulted the desk and held a hand out to Jane, which she promptly took for a shake.

“I’m Spider-Man. You know that. And you are?”

“Um, Jane. You can call me Jane.” She released Spider-Man’s hand.

“Jason,” Jason said as he took it next. Spider-Man turned to Harry. Harry didn’t take his hand.

“That’s Harry Osb–” Jane gestured to Harry, before he cut her off too.

“He knows who I am.” 

Spider-Man put his hand down.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” Maybe it was nothing, but Spider-Man sounded somehow different than Harry recalled. And Harry wasn’t very concerned with his manners at the moment. “You sound like you swallowed a campfire.”

“Harry,” Jane sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Well, I wasn’t going to bring it up,” Spider-Man put his hands on his hips, “but since you asked, I actually had to save a family from a burning building yesterday. Sounds like the smoke damage hasn’t worked its way out of my system yet.” Spider-Man coughed into his fist. It almost seemed melodramatic, as he looked at Harry.

“That’s awesome,” Jason, however, was eating it up.

“I know,” Spider-Man replied. 

“Whatever, I’m not doing this,” Harry tossed his hands up and went for the door. No way was Spider-Man his last hope. If he was here, if he was really with the Avengers, Harry could find somebody else. 

“Harry, please.” Jane called to him. Cool, she cared. Harry didn’t. She and Jason would be fine. Unless, of course, Spider-Man decided to kill them too. Even in that case, Harry had missed the part where that was his problem. He stormed off into the hallway, alone. But not for long. 

What Harry hadn’t noticed was that another door along the hallway had been hanging open, a Hostile awaiting him in the doorway. Clammy humanoid arms shot out of the darkness and wrapped themselves around Harry, dragging him backwards into the meeting room. Harry stumbled over his and the Hostile’s feet as it pulled him, otherwise noiselessly toward the table, one of its salty, dusty hands clamped over Harry’s mouth. Not like he was gonna scream for Spider-Man anyway.

The Hostile turned Harry around, throwing him into the table. This one resembled a middle-aged man. He lifted a rolling chair over his head, ready to swing it down on Harry’s. However, with a quick thwip, the chair was being webbed away, yanked back into the hallway. Spider-Man tossed the chair aside, thwipping another web onto the attacker’s face, giving it a nice tug so it was close enough to punch. The hit steered the Hostile away for a moment, before it turned its attention to Spider-Man. He must not have been in the Labyrinth for very long. He didn’t know that the Hostiles didn’t seem to feel pain. 

“Huh?” Spider-Man didn’t catch on before the hostile started swinging, hitting and scratching at Spidey’s masked head. “Ow! Owowow!” Spider-Man bent himself defensively, raising his hands over his head, allowing his arms the brunt of the attack. Harry rolled his eyes and kicked the hostile from behind. It fell forward into Spider-Man, who was able to use the unbalance to his advantage. “Whoa, there. I don’t remember asking you to dance.” He quipped as he grabbed the stranger, kicking him in the ‘low-hanging fruit’ to further disrupt his posture. The perfect opportunity to maneuver the stranger into a headlock.

“Sleeeeepp,” Spider-Man murmured in the hostile’s ear as he held the struggling figure, waiting for it to go limp. “Who is this guy?” He asked. 

“We’ve been calling them Hostiles,” Jane’s silhouette appeared in the doorway as she explained, backlit by the office light. The hostile grunted and ceased its struggle, eyelids coming to a gradual close. Spider-Man lowered the man to the floor, stopping to gently press two fingers to his neck as she continued, “I wonder if they were human once. Perhaps something horrible happened to them, turning them feral. But I truly can’t explain why they don’t react to pain. It’s like they don’t even feel it at all.”

“Sooooo, like zombies?” Spider-Man glanced over his shoulder.

“Maybe,” Jane shrugged, “But if you ask me, they don’t seem to be… dead. Or undead, for that matter.”

“Ah. So not zombies. Hostels.”

“Yes, Hostiles.”

“Cool. Healing factor?”

Jane shook her head no.

“Phew.” Spider-Man pantomimed wiping his brow as he stood. “In that case… I think I’m getting you guys outta here in no time.” Spider-Man stepped toward Harry, getting uncomfortably close as he pointed a finger at him, “Even you, Osborn. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t want your help!” Harry snapped, swatting Spider-Man’s hand away. Spider-Man looked taken aback.

“But… But I’m–”

“You’re a murderer, that's what you are!” Harry looked to Jane, almost expectantly. Did he expect her to back him up? Jane didn’t speak, didn’t move. “He killed my father.”

“Ole Stormin’ Norman?” Spider-Man asked.

“I only had the one!”

“Is that… Is that true?” Apparently, Jason had caught up to the others.

“What? No. Of course not. Spider-Man doesn’t kill people.” Spider-Man wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “And you’d think I’d remember doing something like that.”

Harry blinked. His hands folded into fists. He should be thanking Spider-Man for taking Norman out of the picture, part of him thought. He was never much of a father. And yet, Harry was angry. He was hurt.

“That’s it?” Harry demanded, “You don’t remember?”

“How would I remember something I didn’t do?” Spider-Man shrugged.

“You’re insane,” Harry couldn’t believe his ears. How was Spider-Man taking this so casually? He took a step toward Harry, who all but flinched backwards. This reaction didn’t stall Spider-Man at all, however.

“Listen here, Osborn Jr. I don’t kill people. So whatever you think happened to your dad, guess again! I don’t know, or care, what you saw that night, but I would never do something like that. Not even to someone who might deserve it.”

Harry must have shown a bit of what he was feeling in that moment, seeing as Spider-Man was quick to backtrack.

“And, of course, he didn’t. I’m not gonna kill someone over wearing a goblin costume and throwing pumpkins at people, okay? Somebody else did! It was just a matter of time until somebody knocked him off that gli–OOF!” 

Spider-Man was larger than Harry, both in height and musculature, and was apparently meaner, too. But that didn’t stop Mr. Osborn from lunging forward and slugging him in the face, to get him to shut up if nothing else. Sure, it was stupid, Harry didn’t have super-strength or anything to compete with, but he didn’t care. Why should he care? Maybe Spider-Man would lose it and put Harry out of his misery. Just like his father. But Spider-Man didn’t fight back. He looked up at Harry, holding his jaw. Jane stepped forward in case she had to get between the two. So did Jason, but he kept more distance. Maybe he knew better than to get involved.

“Okay, I deserved that,” Spider-Man said. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. I’m out of here.” Harry tried to push past the others back into the hall, despite what happened last time. Jane took his shoulder, holding him back. Alas, Spider-Man spoke up once more.

“Yeah, good luck out there. You coulda died in here without me. You need me.”

“Yeah?” Harry whirled around to face him, getting in close again. “Well I helped! Looks like you need me.” 

The two glared at each other for a moment in tense silence. Harry knew he probably wouldn’t make it very far on his own. But he wasn’t ready to back down just yet. It wasn’t exactly Osborn tradition to let Spider-Man win. God only knew what Spider-Man was thinking.

“... You’re not gonna kiss me, are you?” The vigilante suddenly cut through the quiet.

“What???”

“Nothing.” Spider-Man finally stepped back. “So you need me. Or we need each other or whatever. Great. Sounds like we’re a team.” Once more, he extended a gloved hand for Harry to shake. And once again, Harry didn’t take it.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He instead shook his head, and exited the room, waiting just outside the door for the others. He didn’t start moving until even Spider-Man had joined him. Harry and Jason followed Spider-Man and Jane, taking the lead down the hall toward the stairwell up ahead.

“Spider-Man,” Jane spoke softly, hoping it was clear she was addressing Spider-Man alone, “Why did you say that back there?”

“What, about the kiss?” He replied, his own volume just above hers. “I didn't.”

“No, about Harry’s father.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I guess I thought it’d be funny.” 

“How long have you been here, Spider-Man?”

“I just got here this morning.”

Jane nodded. “Well, I look forward to you getting us out.”

Spider-Man didn’t respond right away. Rather, he slowed his pace a little, letting Jane take the lead. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, “me too.”

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[poepill]

happy belated valentines day quodo upon thee! originally posted on ao3 for the quodo minifest, this was my valentines for @chacusha, who organized the event! i had a ton of fun drawing them and im definitely looking forward to next year <333

+ bonus art based on the comic by Kate Beaton, Javert is in Slash Fiction:

[xxxemogrrlxxx]

[blackcathjp]

hi! there was an ask you answered before for drarry smut recs and you replied and said most are DMHP, could you specify which ones they are please? 😊

Also would you happen to have more DMHP recs? As in long fics, really good oneshots, etc. Anything of your favorites. I’m trying to get back into drarry but it’s difficult with the current climate this ship is in, as I only want to read DMHP / DMHP coded stories (and none of the reverse aka hp/dm) if that makes sense 😅. Thanks! 💕

hi! every fic in this praise kink list is dmhp except for an hpdm scene in chapter 9 of far from the tree. it's really short tho, just 2 paragraphs in a 112k fic.

in this list, they're all dmhp-coded (smut and general dynamic, most are dom dlm x sub hjp vibes). but if you don't want any hpdm (sex) scenes or mentions, i would avoid these fics:

arms and elbows

just a trial run

the complete idiot’s guide to losing your entire mind

only for october

as for other fics:

sweet like candy in my veins by shahwrites (7k)

magical theorist harry is intelligent and cool, and vampire draco wants to help him fight evil! they are in love, your honor!

service bell by shiftylinguini (8k)

werewolf draco x vampire harry. cottage in the woods vibe + fwb + getting back together again.

on target by milkandhoney and the_sinking_ship (13k)

a favorite! it's pwp with some plot. flirting through charity donations, culminating in a flirtatious dunk tank challenge and a steamy locker room session.

solemates by shiftylinguini (17k)

silly workplace step/walking competition turned into fwb turned into falling in love. they're so annoyingly cute in this.

you send me (honest you do) by firethesound (37k)

aurors drarry! harry is accidentally de-aged (physically), which unlocks draco's buried feelings. great writing on intimacy, love, comfort, humor, pining (draco's pining HURTS SO GOOD).

eternally consistent by kitsunealyc (44k)

mystery time travel fic where the ending made me go OHH I NEED TO REREAD THIS AGAIN... it adds a whole new perspective. delicious drarry development in this one.

[sunnibits]

aaaa I just wanna hear izzy laugh so bad!! I want someone to crack him up and miraculously get a genuine smile out of him for the first time in like two decades. I want him to overhear some funny bit from the crew’s shared stories that actually makes him huff a little snort, only for him to immediately try to hide it. I want to hear that gravelly, deep rusty chuckle of his goddamnit!!! I want everyone to hear it and immediately whip their heads up in wide eyed shock. (is that… izzy?? laughing???? I didn’t even know he could DO that). (something in ed’s chest creaks a little to hear it again. it’s been so long since he’s heard that sound). I will not rest until my boy gets a tiny shred of happiness and that’s final!!!!

[bi-cot3]

okay hear me out: cot3 spiderman au!!!

lockwood as spiderman- charismatic, a good fighter, no sense of self-preservation, tragic backstory, etc

lucy and george are his coworkers also interning at the daily bugle that he’s semi in love with but his attachment issues make him avoid those feelings like the plague

the three of them are absolutely MISERABLE at their jobs- the only good thing about it is the company they find in each other

george loves research and sharing his findings with the world but nowhere else would hire him except for the bugle. they don’t let him do any actual journalistic work or anything to do with research. honestly, sometimes he thinks he would be happier in an actual scientific experimentation job, but he likes the idea of making information and important findings available for everyone

lucy is a photography intern. she is passionate about all arts, especially making physical art, but has been able to make enough of a living off her photography so that’s what she focuses on the most. in this au she still is running from an abusive household and her mom is possibly a plot element (idk the context though, I just like the angst that comes with it)

lockwood canonically comes from money (inherited after his family’s death) and is more there for an inside view of the daily bugle and to see if he can change the opinions they are publishing (read: he absolutely CANNOT, bless him for being so delusional optimistic)

not fully sure where this au would go, but know that it is fully inspired in spirit by the stoncy fic ‘with great power’ by dharmainitiative on ao3 (which you should ABSOLUTELY give a read if you are a fan of ST or have ever shipped stoncy) (not endorsing of ST whatsoever!!! just the og polycule)

other underdeveloped plot ideas under the cut:

norrie died in [insert violent incident here] and although lucy has no logical reason for it since spiderman wasn’t a thing back then- or even around in the area they lived, she harbors spite that no one was able to swoop in and save norrie from an early and untimely death (or maybe she’s in a coma??? idk)

one of them is roommates with kipps. I would say that the three of them are roommates, but the logistics of keeping the spidey secret in the extremely close quarters that are nyc apartments would be a nightmare to write

kipps might be george’s ex. idk why, I just think the dynamic of lockwood’s feud with the man is hilarious when the george-ex dynamic exists in fics

(norrie and lucy were in love. bc it’s canon in my heart and everyone is queer bc I say so)

ALSO: bonus points if the three of them get together midway/two-thirds of the way through the fic but lockwood is still avoiding telling them

[ciucalata]

the fact that i have no one to talk to about my obsession with the quarry is slowly driving me insane and i can’t take it anymore

[ohitslen]

OOOOH CHAPTER THREE IS UP!! ✨✨✨

In today’s chapter of “Easy to care, easy to love ” we have first impressions! Perpetually confused Vash and Woowoo! And oh is someone already getting a little smitten?? Read to find out! 💖

[theangrypomeranian]

*vibrates in wanting to write platonic ships*

[adaedellta]

I want Technodad fics and not like Technodad as in Technoblade father although I love him I just want techno himself adopting Tommy and there’s a lot of angst at first and someone gets injured probably but then they live happily ever after and everything is all good and funky fresh

[milflewis]

i have a four hour bus ride. there is someone arguing really loudly on the phone and if they do this for the entire trip i will be committing a crime

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent a another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”