#the thing is I can imagine it tasting sort of okay? maybe?

[yandere-yearnings]

ultraviolence by LDL except it's sun ❤️

i KNOW he's meant to be a cute author yan but to me he is EVIL and i think about that one "don't wanna take ur eyes away" drabble u wrote a lot more than i should dar. u did this to me. 😓😓

my apologies genie😔💔 hope giving you this (non-canon) evil sun will make up for it🤧 i was gonna add some flower motifs and stuff bc yk,, ✨️ultraviolence✨️ but i've been distracted so it got lost on me lmao

putting this one under a cut bc it's vv heavy on the implied abuse and domestic violence + reader is some sort of emotionally manipulated w/ stockholm syndrome (??) also this is definitely my worst piece writing-wise and i'm embarrassed haha subby sun enjoyers pls look away he is not very bby boy in this

There was a place he would take you to. Blindfolded in the passenger seat of his car, windows rolled down so you could feel the breeze, warm like his hand on your thigh, like the laughter swapped in breaths between the two of you. You loved him so much, not once did you question his taking your vision from you, even if only momentarily.

He promised to show you only beautiful things. You believed him.

It was a garden. Basked in green lights and shimmering white. A place where daybreak seemed eternal, because Sun only brought you there on the brightest summer mornings. He’d lift the cloth from your eyes, and each time without fail, the ethereal world around you was lost to his radiant smile. Narrowed to brown irises brimming gold, you’d dance to unspoken vows, whispered to the winds on chaste kisses. All you wanted was to spend the rest of your life with him. For that, you’d given him everything.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Running through this empty concert hall in the dead of night; an impulsive game of cat and mouse coordinated by slivers from the dying moon. Why was it that the more distance you put between you, the more you felt you were leaving yourself behind?

Open doors to the rain outside, and the coldness of it all should’ve woken you up. That scent of mud and dirt, the taste of iron at the back of your teeth, the way you felt your heart would burst from all that welled inside — yet for a minutes, you waited there. Minutes, wishing you could feel those hands on your swollen ankles. That Sun would drag you back to him before you could make the stupid decision to walk away again.

Discordant crashes and bangs and the sound of familiar footsteps. Your grip loosened on the handle. He didn’t even chase you anymore. Sun knew you, and you knew yourself, too. You were hopeless, even if it hurt. If he were to pin you down and break your legs like he always said he would, you would feign ignorance to it all. Staring into the endless blackness that vignetted from the four corners of this grand auditorium, you’d revisit the evening he’d invited you to the orchestra with him, and pretend you remained there. 

Blind-eyed, and finally, arms around your hips. You could hear the violins. “Should I bury you, baby?” fingers snaking up, prints in purple to the column of your throat, “is that what you want?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’ll fix me.”

“Nothing can.” Sun was the knife and needle all at once. Nails digging into your skin, twisting your head to meet his gaze. He’d snap your neck. You were sure of it. “But it’s okay,” a soft smile, your foreheads touched. “I’ve loved you ugly, haven’t I?”

He had. Sun loved you even when his name on your skin had scabbed into a disgusting cluster of blood and tissue. He loved you when you were beaten and broken. Touched you so tenderly afterwards, you could completely forget it was him that slammed your skull against the floorboards — so insistently to the point the wood was stained to its core. Maybe it all got skewed in your head then, but you didn’t care anymore. Nobody would understand what you felt with him. You’d no longer be able to imagine life if you were to take him out of yours.

“Your legs hurt, don’t they?” he cooed, moving to stand in front of you. His thumb brushed your cheek, and came away wet. “You’re crying.”

You sniffled, leaning in, nuzzling into his all-encompassing warmth. “I don’t mean to.” It was strange how all else became insignificant like this. “I’m not sad.”

“That’s good.” Sun glanced outside, and there were strings tugging your stomach to your lungs. You wanted his attention back on you. You wanted everything from him. His deepest desires unravelled in pillow talk alone, had become your own. Now, it made sense.

So you didn’t refuse when he ushered you to your knees. Sun's praise was sweet, tone dulcet and sombre and safe when he told you to follow him, to crawl — looking out for you as always because your knees were in better shape than your feet.

The rain in rivulets over him, shirt damp quick, and sticking to his skin. Sun showed you his backbone. The smile coming to your lips felt wiry. He must’ve trusted you as much as you did him. 

“Will you take me home?”

“No,” he muttered. “To the garden. We’ll dig your grave.”

[eldritch-spouse]

Was reading through the Berle tag, and was hit with this random brain worm-

Imagine you're visiting the Glutton ring of hell -either as a tourist or simply visiting some friends who live within that circle- and, as a treat, you drop into Berle's ice cream parlor. A nice sweet and cooling slice of heaven to be found amongst the smoldering heat of hell. Of course you've heard of the place before. With it being so famous, a damn-near requirement to stop by whenever you're in Glutton. You've heard of the complex and wide range of flavors that are served there. Some flavors you wouldn't even have come close to considering possible ice cream flavors. Some of them honestly sound downright repulsive, but you have learned not to judge. Let others live their happiness, and focus on living your own.

Okay, so maybe you had alternative motives when you made a detour on your way to whatever place you're staying at, to step into Berle's highly air-conditioned shop. You were on a mission. A rather childish and, to others, pointless one. But to you, it was of high importance, you just had to know! Did they sell your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn't like you had odd tastes, you weren't searching for a thanksgiving dinner flavored scoop of creamy goodness, but for whatever reason, you just could never seem to find a place that sold your favored flavor. Anytime you'd go to a grocery store, or any other ice cream shop, it'd be the first thing you'd search out. Always feeling disappointed and a bit let down when your hopeful searches turned up empty. At this point, you'd marry someone in order to satiate your cravings. And you say so, more so to yourself than anyone else, as you looked over the offered flavors for that day.

You don't think anyone had heard you, and even if they did, you didn't think much of it. Didn't think anyone would care. How wrong you were. How unaware and cutely ignorant you were of the future you had unknowingly spoken into existence. Even if you didn't truly mean it. You were just making a joke about how much you wanted to indulge in your sought after treat again. The demon behind the counter, who had found his eyes stuck to you since you had entered his shop, and was watching you with sickly sweet hunger as you scanned over his products, had heard you loud and clear.

If he doesn't have what you're looking for, if you just give him a bit he promises you he can cook it up for you! While he's doing that, you can pick out your guys rings. You can propose to him once you get back.

((Also, I don't know if you do anons, but if you do can I either be Isopod anon or 🧠 anon?)

[I don't really tag anons, but we have a few yes, I'll remember you.]

There's been a number of asks regarding Berle that sort of sound like "I'd only humor him if he had [X] flavor", which is selling yourself short, because if there's one location in the world where you're likely to find the most niche flavors of ice cream, it would be Gluttony, especially Berle's Sorbet place.

You're even more cooked in this scenario because, the way you worded it almost makes it sound like a deal proposition, and the prince is going to swoop in immediately. He accepts your deal, formalizes it in a manner much too quick for you to realize, and by fulfilling the request you set forth, he in turn expects you to remain true to your end of the deal.

This is something he'll continue to hold over your head. You made a deal, you made an open deal, and he fulfilled it. Don't be silly, there are consequences for your actions!

So anyway, time to cook in advance for the ceremony, would you like to help Berle? He's going to make a wedding themed slime cream for the occasion and he'd like his bride's input.

[thethingything]

oh yeah my other hobby in Pokémon Scarlet is making the worst sandwiches I can come up with

the ingredients are: mayo, vinegar, whipped cream, jam, tomatoes, cheese, pickles, jalapeños, strawberries, and pineapple

[moonstruckme]

It's me once again! Bothering you twice in a day, I'm annoying like that, ha just kidding. But yes James is soooo wholesome, it's crazy how he became my favorite boy. So Mae, I suppose you are super busy because being such amazing writer is no easy job when you have requests coming all the time but, if you have the time, whenever that is, could you write something about James? Like James being so wholesome, the best boyfriend, the fluffiest thing you can think of, maybe something with words or affirmation and kisses and hugs and just very lovely things, feel like I need that. If you can of course.

Hope you are having a very cool weekend and my username is basically my favorite colors and it has something to do with Van Gogh and my favorite singer but this kid knows something, haha it's so funny, kind of serendipitous if you ask me :) love that. Well, I'm going to set you free, read you soon.

P.S. Sorry this was so loonng

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!! Sorry this took so long lol, I had to wait until I had an idea that wasn't already in my requests but I appreciate your patience! This is perhaps more hurt/comfort than straight fluff lol, but he is the most wholesome ever <3

cw: concussion

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 603 words

James’ hand is especially gentle as he strokes over your hair. Your nose dents into his thigh, and his jeans are coarse and scratchy but the slight pressure is nice. 

“Still dizzy?” he asks, carefully quiet. 

“A little.” Your own voice is thin, fraught. “Not as bad.” 

He sighs, and you feel too weird to decipher whether it’s in relief or dismay. “I’m sorry, angel.” He lifts one of your hands to his mouth, kissing the side. “Is it hurting in one place?” 

“It’s my whole face. But most in my forehead.” 

James’ touch is featherlight, ghosting over the spot where you’d smacked your head on the stairs. “Here?” 

“Mhm.” 

He makes a worried humming sound in response. You sit in silence for some time, and it’s not uncomfortable, but nothing is comfortable for you right now. You feel terrible, unlike yourself and unsettled because of that and also weepy but not as much as you are embarrassed. And dwelling upon any of this for too long makes your head spin worse. You don’t think you’re dying though it feels like you might be. 

The warm bead rolling down your nose brings you to the realization that you’re crying. James’ coo follows a moment later, and his hand splays protectively atop your head. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Do you feel alright to sit up?” 

“Okay,” you mumble. 

He does the work for you, though it’s hard to keep track of the movements. One second your head is on his lap and the next you’re propped against his chest, one muscled arm supporting your back while James rests his lips against your forehead. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” 

“I don’t really feel like going to dinner anymore,” you admit, tasting salt as a tear finds its way into your mouth. 

“Oh,” James lifts his lips to look you in the eyes, “honey, I didn’t expect you to. I’m going to call Remus and cancel in a minute, okay?” He brushes a lock of hair away from your face with his pinkie finger, stroking a sweet line down your cheek. “If you go anywhere, it should probably be to the doctor.”��

“No.” You close your eyes, too upset to care about the low whine that escapes you. “What’re they gonna do?” 

“I don’t know, baby.” James traces the same line again. “They might want to do an MRI or something. I’ve had a concussion before, they’re serious business.” 

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. The material of his jumper is soft beneath your cheek. “I can’t think about it right now.” 

There’s a brief pause. 

“Okay. Okay, we can talk about it tomorrow, if it’s still bad then.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry.” James’ arm wraps around your middle, squeezing lightly in a gentle sort of hug. You think that he’s being very careful with you, which you appreciate. You don’t imagine you could handle much more sensation at the moment. “I know it sucks, angel, and you’re handling it so well. We’re gonna do our best to get you feeling better. I love you so much, you know?” 

You feel like you might cry again. You don’t think you have the energy to stop yourself. “I know,” you tell him. “I love you so much, too.” 

“Heaps and heaps.” He gives you another little squeeze, his ability to repress his affection tenuous at best. “Probably the most anyone has ever loved anyone, if we’re being honest.” 

“James.” 

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do that kind of math right now. I love you a lot, okay?” 

“Okay. Same here.”

[silkjade-archived]

This js not a request or anything, I just wanted to tell someone about this😊

SLIGHT ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS!!

(i think, soryr☹️)

Fontaine would be SO good for mermaid aus

Like imagine a wrio x mermaid!reader where wrio saw the reader first from that window In his office or what💪

Even better if the reader gets sick or just fatigue from the primodial water

And the guy is like: 😱😭

And then boom he has a mermaid with him, In his own office🤯

⤀ cw: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned ⤀ a/n: OMG OKAY I FINISHED THE AQ && UR SO RIGHT ! this gave me sm brainrot wah i had to write a litto smthg >.< but I can see him being pretty chill about it too… (sort of a spinoff to the alhaitham mermaid au I guess hehe)

perhaps every so often, wriothesley would get tiny glimpses of you in between those giant stalks of seagrass, but the moment passes by so quickly that he just brushes it off as nothing. probably just a bubbler seahorse that wandered into the area or something

‘eh whatever. as long as it doesn’t pose a threat—there are weirder things out there.’

when he has his first suspicions that primordial seawater might be leaking into the normal seawater, he takes it upon himself to personally check on the pipes and investigate. however, once he gets to the abandoned zone at the end, he finds... a washed up mermaid ?

hes honestly a little bit amused as to how you could've ended up here, and his initial instinct was to just toss you back into the sea. but it's not like you're some otter caught in a fisherman's net; you’re breathing so laboriously and feverish to the touch, on the verge of passing out… so he scoops you up and takes you to sigewinne. which is how when you finally come to, you find yourself in a tank in the duke of meropide's office

(some headcanons below the cut ! a little bit suggestive at the end ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ )

he introduces you to tea, but it’s so bitter ! perhaps mermaid tastes are more aligned with that of melusines because wriothesley basically short circuits when you tell him you prefer sigewinne’s milkshakes

in his attempts to sway you to his side, he’s scouring his collection left and right, brewing different teas that he hopes you might like

“alright, how about this one? it's light, with a hint of sweet flowers and bulle fruit."

"i still like sigewinne's milkshake better."

speaking of sigewinne, she definitely catches all the minuscule changes in wriothesley's facial expressions whenever he talks to you. and so of course she and her melusine friends start adding stickers of you onto his belongings too.

he takes them off to save face but stashes them away somewhere in his desk

once you've recovered enough, he'd help you out of the tank, and when your tail dries into human legs, he'd take you on a tour around the fortress as 'a friend from the overworld.'

however, you notice how everyone else addresses wriothesley with his title and you worry that maybe you've been too casual with someone so important?

so when you also start addressing him as 'your grace,' during afternoon tea in his office, he almost chokes on his own tea. you tilt your head in confusion because his cheeks are so flush and he can barely look you in the eye. it takes him a second to gather his composure

oh archons above it makes him want to do unspeakable things hearing you say that, so at least for now....

"please, just wriothesley is fine."

continuation

[bigassmoonchild]

night team here

can we request ghost with a daughter that is the mini verison of him like soap thinks shes gonna be sweet and nice and she bullies him worse than her father does

bonus points

price already knew ghosts daughter was a complete savage but soap annoyed him that morning and price decided the consequences of his actions was being brutally roasted

(daughter is gonna be leaning teens just bc i said so. also, thank you so much for the request!! love the night team 🫶🫶)

soap wasn’t supposed to know. this wasn’t something anyone was supposed to know, but simon was decently okay with price knowing. price knew to keep secrets, hell, price had his own.

but simon accidentally let it slip.

‘i’ve gotta get home, early morning,’ he’d told the 141 when they wanted to go out for drinks after a successful mission. they gave him odd looks (one of them was a knowing one, but he’d ignore price being offered to come watch a recital).

soap didn’t let it go, no he didn’t. ‘got the missus waiting back there?’ and simon was exhausted, it was a long mission and all he wanted was to sleep in his own house.

‘kids got a recital,’ he’d muttered and had walked away. what he didn’t expect was to find a huge amount of messages from soap the next morning. most consisted of the same things.

kid??

who’d have a child with you??

what’s the mother look like?

what’s the kids name?

son or daughter?

maybe i wanted to come watch too

i’m technically their uncle

and simon had to leave, collected you from your grandmother and took you to the recital. you were beautiful, the pride and joy of his life. someone he’d never thought he’d ever had, someone he never knew he could love more than anything.

it took months for simon to wear down enough ti even allow any of them to see a picture of you, let alone know your name.

‘beauty, that one is. you sure she came from you?’ simon shoved soap off the chair for that comment. soap continued to rave about being an ‘uncle’ and as much as simon didn’t want it, he had to tell you.

you looked at him weird when he admitted he’d spoken about you to the 141. you knew, generally, what he did but you didn’t get details.

‘ok and?’ you’d asked. ‘what’re they gonna do? it’s not like they’re gonna do something behind your back, not like price has said anything,’ and he worried. maybe he coddled you a little, but you were his girl.

and you’d agreed to meeting them, but told simon you didn’t want to know when. ‘i’ll be thinking about it too much,’ you told him.

simon finally dropped a few names for you, late one night when he’d finally relaxed with some whiskey (he didn’t mention the watered down taste).

‘what kinda name is soap? he drop it or something?’

it took some time before simon had grown any sort of comfortable letting anyone but price be around you. it wasn’t common that you stayed by price when simon was out on a mission, but the occasion happened when it was possibly a fatal one.

it was early morning when you’d sent a text to simon, he hadn’t meant to go to the compound at all that day but had made a lunch. it was a picture of the lunch, still sitting in the fridge with the caption ‘you forget something?’

and he’d groaned, mentioning to price in passing that he forgot his lunch at home. soap and gaz had been there, and a little smile came from soap.

‘just have the lass bring it ‘round, i’m sure she’s dying to meet her uncles,’ price gave a little grimace. ‘what? she’s probably a sweetheart, i cant imagine a girl like her would turn out like ghost,’

you’d relented to bring it around, especially after price messaged you about soap not being able to shut up about meeting you.

he’s pressing me for information. -john

if you bring the food, i’ll give your dad an extra day of leave. -john

please, i’m about to make him run. -john

you always laughed a little when he signed off after each text. it was his own little thing, and you secretly enjoyed having a fatherly figure text you more than three words.

when you got to the compound, you found price waiting outside for you and you waggled the bag of food at him. he let you in, guiding you through the halls to where simon and the others were.

‘try not to forget it, next time,’ you told simon. he gave you a small grunt, one that sounded like his ‘thank you’.

soap walked up to you, giving you a cheeky grin and swinging his arm around your shoulder. ‘how’s it been, lass?’ he asked you and you shook his arm off.

‘you know it’s not the 80’s anymore, right?’ he blinked at you. snorting softly with an eye roll, you sat down in the nearest chair. ‘mullets back in style, you know. might fit you better,’ you commented.

soap was left with his mouth open, gesturing faintly to you then to simon. ‘she can’t be like you,’ he nearly hissed.

‘don’t act so surprised, she said damn near the same thing to me,’ price lamented, thinking back on his first time meeting you.

‘you from the 1800’s? christ, i haven’t seen anyone willingly have that beard,’ you’d told him oh so long ago.

you looked around, leaning towards him. ‘who else am i supposed to be like? i’m pretty sure he’s my father,’ you hissed back.

all soap could do was blink. a little ghost? no, he couldn’t believe it. he saw simon give you a little fist bump, almost saw a few dollars being passed between you two.

simon pulled his mask off to eat and you looked at him closely. ‘you get a haircut?’ you asked, squinting your eyes suspiciously.

‘nope,’ he responded. ‘got ‘em all cut,’ and you snorted a short laugh. soap couldn’t do much but watch the interaction, realization slowly settling in.

‘that’s why you tell those shitty jokes?’ he announced. ‘you’re actually a father telling dad jokes,’

you gave a little smile and he could see the admiration in your eyes. god, you were just like your father but the confidence came off of you so easily.

‘yknow he came to my parents job show and tell once,’ you told everyone and simon stared at you. almost daring you to finish. ‘he didn’t take the mask off and had to leave, he scared too many of the kids,’

you spoke so fondly of him.

‘but he’s a prick, so he just left,’ simon lightly kicked your leg and you made a big show of it. you might be his kid, but you had your own personality in there.

and simon would be dead before anyone took that from you.

[juuuulez]

📰 | dessert.

i can imagine being woken up at ridiculous hours because carmen needs you to try a dish…anyway that’s what this is + domesticity + husband carmy + soft pregnancy vibes.

short and sweet.

You’re lying half-asleep in bed, vaguely tethered to reality by the distant clanging of pots and pans. It isn’t enough to fully wake you, too comfortable buried under the thick blankets, having finally found the perfect position where your stomach doesn’t seem to get in the way.

Which, lately, it’s always in the way.

The door creaks open, and Carmen’s footsteps are quiet, feather-light. He sits down at the edge of the bed, one hand nudging your shoulder, the other guiding a spoon into a little dish he sits on his lap.

The movement rouses you just enough, gaining the smallest inkling of consciousness. It’s in front of your face and pressing against your lips before the awareness can fully set in, velvety chocolate coating your tongue. The taste is thick, yet not overwhelming, somehow both dense and light at the same time. Maybe some sort of mousse.

“That’s.. yeah, ‘s good..” You mumble, eyes blinking open blearily to twist slightly on the bed, moving to face him. The movement causes your shirt to ride up, not bothering to tug it down, despite the slight chill that spreads over your stomach.

Carmen’s hand finds the edge of the duvet, pulling it to cover your body properly. “Good?” He echos. “Just good? C’mon, baby. Gotta give me a bit more than that.”

You suck in a breath, resisting the temptation to fall back asleep, which has amplified now that he’s finally next to you. It has to be around 1am, at this point. Usually, the baby keeps you up, kicking incessantly, but it seems the little bear has finally quietened down. Not Carmy, though.

“I dunno, Carm. I like it,” You sigh, eyes fluttering closed. “It’s good.”

Without your gaze on him, Carmen looks down at the dish, staring into the ceramic bowl like it’s his worst enemy. About a thousand things run through his mind, all with the primary focus being perfecting the desert.

“Yeah, okay..” He’s resigned, already making a move to try and stand. The motion causes you to stir again, a hand blindly fumbling with his wrist to pull it back in.

“No, don’t take it away. I’m not done.” You protest.

The spoon has already been caught between your fingers, and Carmen doesn’t have it in him to stop you. It penetrates the light mixture with ease, scooping another mouthful of the light mousse between your lips.

“It’s not right,” Carmen would say, sounding so utterly defeated. “You don’t have to eat it.”

You simply shrug, having already gone back for the last little piece. “I wanna eat it. I’m hungry.”

The smile threatens to return to Carmy’s face. With the renovations underway, he’s been missing his time in the kitchen. So, he brings it home. Working endlessly on new recipes, testing menu variations, anything to keep his mind running. Maybe the notion of having a child is starting to freak him out a little, so the work serves as a distraction.

“Hungry?” He repeats, “Weren’t you just asleep?”

“Well, I’m awake now. Might as well eat.

It’s a sound argument, and Carmen knows not to push it. He’s just lucky that you’re always so willing to put up with him like this. So, he puts the empty dish down, taking the spoon and laying it on the bedside counter.

He’ll stroke your hair while you chew the last mouthful, your eyes coming to a soft close. There’s some chocolate on your lip, which Carmen swipes off with his thumb, before sucking the digit into his mouth. It doesn’t taste that bad.

“I’ll join you soon.” He promises, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to the same spot. You give a small grunt in response, wanting to persuade him otherwise, but not having the energy to do so.

You’ve already melted back into the pillow, happy and sated with the taste of chocolate on your tongue.

[charliemwrites]

Before charmed slasher Simon revealed his true identity, what were movie nights like? I’d kill for a lil section on them almost cuddling on the couch while watching a scary movie and Simon absolutely adoring when you jump and scooch closer to him on instinct 🥹🥹 please charlie I beg you 😭

*Checks notes, chats with The Council* Yeah okay... we can do that.

CW for a bit of somnophilia and Simon being a creep!!

You open the door looking like some kind of pastry with too-big eyes. Soft, cream-colored pair of joggers and a thin pink jumper, so fuzzy he just knows he'll find fluff on him after this. You look so cozy and sweet; he wants to put a pretty belled collar on you. Maybe watch you curl up in a nest of blankets, safe behind the bars of a cage.

But maybe not, he muses as you chirp a greeting, taking his hand to tug him into your apartment. A lamb inviting a wolf to the pen. He likes you best like this, all loose limbed and free to roam. Thinks maybe you'd lose some of that mischievous glint if he locked you up.

The collar though... he'd like to hear it ring as you bounce around him.

"I am the bestest friend ever," you declare, squeezing calloused fingers so much bigger and crueler and blood-stained than your own. "You know why?"

He arches an eyebrow. Your impish smile widens with delight. "Why's that, luv?"

"Well, you know that one place you wanted last week, but they were closed?"

He grunts and nods. Last week was your choice to pick the movie, which mean he was in charge of dinner.

"Well... they're still closed for repairs but! I talked to the owner, who talked to his mum, and she gave me the recipe for that dish you like. So guess what I did!"

He stares at you for a moment, teeth aching his jaw with the urge to sink them into soft flesh. Mark you as his. How the hell are you real? How the hell are you here?

When he's silent a beat to long, you click your tongue.

"You're no fun - I tried to make it," you explain.

Only then does he become aware of the scent in your apartment. Garlic and red meat and savory spices. His mouth fills with saliva as he focuses his attention on you again.

"Smells great, luv," he says, flicking the corner of his mouth up.

You beam. "Hopefully it's good! I tried it first and it seems alright, but I'm not sure it's as good as the restaurant."

It's almost not a conscious thought to snap his arm out and scoop you up, dragging you in against his chest. You yelp initially, but it devolves into a little giggle as you flatten your palms against his chest.

"Thank you, luv."

Every time he comes into your home, it's a struggle not to keep you. Not to take this place for himself, keep you for his own among all your pretty, soft things. Blood washes out; he'd show you how.

"Rileyyyy!" you mock-whine, pushing at him. "C'mon, before it gets cold."

He wants to make a comment about eating you. Simon thinks he could survive a winter on your taste alone. Instead he lets you on your feet, eases his snake-like grip around your waist. You cast him one last, warm look and skip off to the kitchen to fill bowls with food.

"So what movie are we watching?" you call.

"You ever seen Sinister?" he asks.

You make an annoyed noise. "You know I haven't!"

"Well, that's what we're watching."

You appear with a full, steaming bowl and a beer, shoo him to the couch with a little kick to his ankles. "Get it set up while I finish serving."

"Bossy thing," he tuts, voice a little too low for teasing.

The bridge of your nose darkens with a flush, but you make a cheeky little face in return. "Someone's gotta keep you in line!"

You're gone before you can hear the rumble in his chest. Some days he could swear you know what you're doing; that you know just what sort of animal you're poking at. That you're seeing just how much you can prod before he springs.

He tries not to imagine that cheeky, smug little smirk going all wet-eyed and desperate with lust. Sits to hide the bulge forming in his pants and sets up the movie.

You saunter out with your own, less-filled bowl and a glass of white wine. Take one look at the screen and shoot him an exasperated look.

"I should have known," you complain.

"Literally called Sinister, luv."

"Yeah, I know," you lament.

As soon as the movie starts you're curling into his side, eyes huge. Meal forgotten in your lap.

"Oh, no," you whisper, tilting your face to give him a pleading look. "I can't eat like this!"

"Eat quick, luv. You'll have a break after this first part.”

You do as you’re told; take a big sip of wine when you’re done - just in time for the first jumpscare. You save the wine but quickly put it away, shrinking down against the cushions.

“You’re mean, awful, terrible,” you mumble, fumbling a blanket off the back of the couch.

“‘S not very nice,” he snorts, licking his fork clean. You’d made it quite well for a first time. Not necessarily as good as the restaurant’s but better for you having made it special for him.

“You’re not very nice,” you reply, going stiff with fear as the “home movies” start playing. “No no no, fuck all of that.”

As soon as he’s set his bowl aside, you’re clinging in his arm. Bicep squished against your breasts, little fingers curling hard into flesh. He hopes you’ll leave cute little bruises. Your eyes are huge trained on the tv, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“Holy shit,” you squeak, hiding your face.

Chuckling, he nudges at you. “Uh uh, no hiding. C’mon, I’m right here.”

You whimper and snuggle in even closer, wedged up against his ribs, leaning into him. Nearly climb into his lap when the creature starts moving on the screen, hands flapping.

“Fuuuuuck that,” you whine, “he’s so fucked oh my god.”

Simon chuckles, setting his other hand on your thigh. Indulges in stroking his thumb over the inseam of your joggers. You barely even seem to notice, engrossed in fear.

By the end, you’re fanning yourself of the panic, shooting him a look that’s meant to be accusing but mostly just owlish.

“You have to make it up to me,” you declare.

Oh, he could think of a dozen ways to do that.

“Yeah?” he rumbles. “What do you need?”

“We’re watching something else. My pick this time.” You pause, shoot him a worried look. “Can you stay for another?”

He smirks. “Couldn’t kick me out if you tried, luv.”

You really couldn’t. Because you’re adorable when you’re scared. Look like something to ruin. But the aftermath is almost better. When your body melts into warmth and (false) safety. The anxiety drains away, leaving you sleepy and pliable. You’ll fall asleep within the hour.

And you do. Clue playing (subtitles on) you’re snoozing against his shoulder before long. He waits until the movie ends for plausible deniability, then takes you to bed. You hardly stir, save to press your nose against his collar with a little hum.

He eases you out of your joggers, eyes flickering at the pretty lace clinging to your hips. Tiny little bows at the sides.

Snuffs out the bedside lamp and fishes his fully-hard cock from his pants. He teases his free hand along your inner thigh, over the lace front of your panties. Scrapes his nail a bit where your clit is hidden. Nearly purrs when you moan softly, wiggling on the mattress to open your thighs wider, still out cold.

Fucks his other hand vicious and brutal, relishing the slight dry pain. Fast and hard, already worked up from having you trembling against him for over an hour. It doesn’t take long to fall over that edge, the memory of your squeaks and cries finishing him off.

He covers the sensitive, angry tip as he cums, no matter how much he wants to paint you with his spend. He takes a deep breath as the pleasure courses through him, twitching through aftershocks. Cracks his neck as he peeks your peaceful expression.

Can’t help himself. Smears his wet thumb over the front of your panties. Nothing you’ll notice in the morning, but you’ll spend all night with him marking your cunt. Maybe even all day tomorrow.

He should go.

Ends up gently, carefully, glossing your bitten bottom lip with a drop of cum as well. Gets rock hard all over again when your tongue flicks out at the sensation, tasting. Still unconscious. You roll over with a sleepy sigh and curl up.

Simon pulls the blankets over you and returns to the living room to clean up from dinner. He’s not yet willing to slink back to his den.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[bokettochild]

So much for sleep! I sort of had a feeling we'd get an update soon, but I wasn't expecting to see the notif right as I was putting things away for the night and lying down! JoJo, our goddess, I swear she never sleeps!

Anyways! I have THOUGHTS!

First of all, I'm glad we get to find out about the letters' contents! Four's age is showing with him complaining about having chores when he gets home, and Twilight really just is a kid in his twenties wanting to enjoy shopping at a discount, huh? Contrast that to Warriors being the mature financier of their recent inn stay (and nobody believing him despite some of them being right there to see it) and I suppose it really shows us who's where in the age line up, huh?

This does too, btw

JoJo really said "let them be children!" and allowed this trio of terrors to start climbing crap like gremlins

and then get scolded by the mature adult of the group

Honestly, Warriors really is stepping into the shoes of a leader in this group, more so, i dare say, than we've actually seen Time do! No dissing on Time here, but Warriors is the one giving plans, guidence, and settling major issues, it's just that Time has the age and big voice so everyone's looking at him. i feel like that might change in future though, since our Old Man has made his priorities clear recently (his kid comes before the mission)

Speaking of Time, I see those Shade references, Twilight!

He is basically handing the old man ammunition to use against him in the future (now imagining Shade quoting him on purpose when the time comes)

That said, there's a tension here I wasn't expecting, but it makes sense! time is worried for his kid, and seeing the natural inclinations of a hero in someone he cares about... he's getting a taste of what it is to be in the shoes of all those he loves: watching the hero suffer and hurt because of duty, devotion and his own choices. I feel like this is building up to something. Maybe Time is going to try and "save" some of these boys from the fate of their legacy? protect them from being a hero so they can be people? Is that what's going to send him to the fate of becoming Shade?

Anyways, that's it for theories so far. I have a few things I wanted to love on before I end this though!

They are horse girls your honor! (althoughl Wars, hunny, that ain't how you lead a horse, especially not one that big and clearly excited!)

Twilight being confused that a "lady" is waiting on him (we all now a tiny part of him was hoping for Midna)

Four being the emotionally competent hero who knows when to push and make sure everyone's okay (FOUR IS BALANCE PERSONIFIED, FIGHT ME!!!)

he's also adorable (did I mention he's really just a kid?)

and lastly! obligatory Legend appreciation!

my guy is so pretty <3 T-T

[bizarrelittlemew]

going down (with the ship)

[ explicit, s1e4 canon-divergent, Ed/Stede, ao3 ]

"It's September 1st, boss." "What's that, mate?" "It's September the 1st." "Dickfuck, no it's not."

Turns out it is. Dickfucking damnit.

And now Ed is lying spread out on the sofa in the captain's cabin, drinking brandy straight from the bottle and waiting for the sea to take him. At least it's some damn smooth brandy. All things considered, not the worst thing to be the last thing to taste on this Earth.

Unless—

Well. Ever since seeing him naked when they switched clothes earlier, Ed had kinda started to hope that he'd get a taste of Stede Bonnet at some point. Hadn't planned on bringing it up this early, though. He hasn't even had time to plan how he'd go about that. And he likes a good plan.

But plans have already betrayed him tonight, and if they're going down with the ship anyway, what's the harm in asking?

Now he just needs a smooth opener.

"Have you ever tried fellatio?"

Or, like, dive right in.

Stede looks up. Looks somewhere between surprised, bemused, and curious, but not horrified. That's something.

"You mean sucking dick?"

"Whuh—" Ed nearly chokes on that, like he'd like to choke on—anyway, he clears his throat. Did not expect that from this fancy man. Promising, though. "I mean, yeah. Yep. Or like, getting your dick sucked."

"Can't say I have, no. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"Unfortunately."

They let that hang in the air for a bit, just looking at each other.

"Well... uhm. Do you wanna?" Real smooth, Teach.

Stede's lips curl into a slightly nervous but mostly excited smile.

"I guess there's no time like the present."

"Not much time at all, mate."

And the nervousness completely dissipates, replaced by sheer eagerness as Stede nearly trips over himself in his haste to get out of his arm chair, falls to the floor, walks on his knees to Ed's side, and starts unbuttoning the fall front on his breeches before Ed can catch up to what is happening.

"Wow, hey, I meant—you know what, never mind." Ed is not going to protest if Stede really wants to suck his dick, even if he imagined it the other way around, and damn, it seems that Stede really, really wants to suck his dick. He wonders if all fancy, rich lads are this hungry for cock. Maybe that's why they're like that.

Maybe not. Ed gets a feeling that Stede is different.

Different from anyone else who has ever touched Ed's dick before, too, and oh god, Stede is touching—licking his dick, sucking the head into his mouth and moaning, going at it as if Ed's cock contains the secret that might save them all if only Stede can suck it out.

Ed groans and buries his fingers into Stede's hair just as he starts bobbing his head, making up for any lack of finesse with pure enthusiasm, and okay, Ed is more than a bit bitter about this being his last night alive, because if this is Stede's baseline, Ed would've liked to be along for the ride while Stede developed his skill to its full potential.

Too bad that it will all be ending too soon—their lives, and the glorious experience of stuffing Stede's face full of his cock, because the way Stede closes his eyes and sucks around him is rapidly drawing Ed closer to the edge.

He only just manages to warn Stede before he comes, tries tugging at his hair to let him know he might want to pull off, but Stede just hums with encouragement and takes him deeper.

If this is to be his last orgasm, he might have found peace with his fate.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Ed slumps, staring up at the ceiling, then takes a swig of the bottle still in the hand he isn't using to pet Stede's head. He is just about ready for the sea to swallow him up like Stede just swallowed him down.

And yet.

Ed got a good look at Stede's equipment earlier, and he's still determined to get the close-up experience. Also, there is a sizeable bulge at the front of Stede's—Ed's—pants, and if Stede comes in his leathers, it will sort of suck to clean them up later. In case there is a 'later', if they somehow miraculously escape this.

"Alright, c'mere." Ed pats his chest.

"What?"

"Come up here, fuck my face."

"Are you—what?" Stede looks like one big question mark, but despite that, he is already climbing onto the sofa above Ed, knees on either side of his shoulders.

"C'mon, we don't have much time."

Stede opens the fall front, letting his cock spring free. Ed licks his lips.

"Maybe I can choke to death on cock before the Spanish get me."

"Let's try to avoid that, shall we?"

Ed is not sure he agrees, and shows it by grabbing Stede's hips and shoving him forward, taking in as much as he can of it in one go, which turns out to be half of it. Stede's yelp turns into a groan, and he quickly gets the picture, soon thrusting into Ed's mouth with rough abandon. He turns out to be even more of a natural at face-fucking than cock-sucking.

Yup, this is a much better last thing to taste (and fill his throat). Only surpassed by the last last thing, the taste of Stede as he coats his tongue with come. Ed doesn't even get emotional over the sweet things Stede babbles as he comes, all while stroking Ed's cheek with his thumb.

Okay, maybe he gets a little emotional. Mostly sad that he doesn't have time to do this, like, five hundred times more. At least.

As Stede sits heavily on Ed's chest, catching his breath, still mumbling something, Ed blinks and turns his head to the side. Catches sight of the thing Stede had been sitting with in the chair, the thing he dropped in his rush to get on his knees by Ed's side.

"What's that painting?"

[bagopucks]

J. Drysdale - Blind Dating

✄————————————

Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning(s): alcohol consumption.

The end is pretty fast paced but I’m considering making a part two if enough people like this!

—————————————

This had to be a joke.

I tapped my foot impatiently against the floor beneath the table. Watching the man across from me fidget with his menu, peeking over it occasionally with a wide grin to ask some sort of question. Was he five? His hair was parted down the middle, looking as if it was still drying from a shower. He had wide blue eyes.. doe eyes, warm and welcoming compared to my scowl. He was handsome, but I couldn’t get past his behavior.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?” His voice was soft, but curious. I wanted to reply with, ‘whatever I can finish the quickest to get out of here,’ but I held my tongue. “The shrimp Alfredo looks really good.. I’m just afraid it won’t taste the same.” I would admit he was mostly talking to himself. I wasn’t being very open. But his statement piqued my interest.

“The same as what?”

“I used to live in California, right next to the beach. All of the seafood was so fresh.” I watched his broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

“That’s nice.” I looked down at the glass of water I held between my hands. This man was not very impressive. Nor did he seem overly confident. Or confident at all.

Could he sense my distaste?

“You can get something other than water.. I don’t want you to feel like you need to save my money.” His words brought a good reminder as to why I hadn’t walked out already. He was covering the whole meal.

“Thanks, but I’m avoiding much else at the moment.” I spoke, watching his big blue eyes look back up from the menu.

The fact that the man had been late was probably the driving factor that made me not want to give him a chance. I was never one to take to people who had a bad internal clock.

“So.. what do you do for a job?”

“I’m a journalist.” I answered his question briefly, my eyes wandering toward the window by our table.

“Nice! You must be pretty smart then.” An awkward chuckle fell from his lips. “I’d say I was okay in school.. but I never went to college. Just wasn’t my thing.”

“It’s not for everybody.” I shrugged, watching cars pull into the lot of the restaurant.

“Is this the first time you’ve done the whole.. blind dating thing?”

“No.”

“Oh.. this is my first time. I gotta admit I’m pretty nervous.”

“You don’t say,” the sarcastic phrase slipped ruthlessly from my lips. My gaze returned to the man to assess the damage, a momentary empathy filling my gaze. He simply chuckled again.

“I know.. my best friend always says I’m easy to read.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized softly, leaning back in my seat.

“It’s okay.. I get it. I can imagine I’m the last person you expected to show up..” his voice trailed off into silence before he shrugged once more. “You are very pretty.”

Finally. A compliment. I smiled. He seemed to loosen up slightly at the sight. I had been raised on the ideal of returning a compliment with a compliment, so I indulged his words kindly.

“Thank you, Jamie. I’ll admit you have beautiful eyes.” I watched his cheeks flush, my disinterest morphing quickly into a twinge of attraction. He was cute when he blushed.

“Thanks..” he whispered before his head seemed to duck behind the wall that was his menu again. What was once annoying slowly turned into amusing. Maybe I could cut him some slack. “Do you have any idea what you want?” He asked once more.

“I really love clams.” I glanced down at my own menu, at the item I had picked out the moment we entered the building. This was one of my favorite restaurants.

“Ew,” I heard Jamie mumble from the safety of his side of the table. My brow furrowed.

“You don’t like clams?” I leaned forward.

“Never had them.”

“Then how can you hate them?” I quickly reached out to pull his menu down, catching Jamie off guard. He immediately sat up. For the first time since he sat down, he was exposed, having to sit with no barrier between us. I refused to believe someone as beautiful as him had confidence issues.

“They look gross.” Jamie reasoned with a nervous grin.

“You’re trying one.” I demanded, smirking and folding my arms across my chest.

“Absolutely not.” I drew in a breath to insist before our conversation was cut short. Our waitress waltzed by with a grin, pulling a notepad from her apron as she greeted us kindly, informing us of the specials and the house alcohols.

“What can I get you two?” She glanced between the two of us, and Jamie’s eyes settled on me as a silent signal to go first.

“Can I get the garlic butter clams with a side of fries?” The woman nodded kindly and jotted down the order before turning to Jamie, who happily requested his own meal.

“Shrimp Alfredo and a side salad with Italian dressing?”

“Anything else for the two of you?”

“Can we get a bottle of wine?” I asked swiftly, “not too expensive, but whatever you think is best.” I had told Jamie I didn’t need anything other than water, but he certainly needed to loosen up. Wine was always a good way to take the edge off.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with that!” The waitress gathered our menus and swiftly turned to leave. My eyes settled on Jamie.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I spoke.

“I don’t mind at all.” He smiled, “as long as you share.” Though it wasn’t the best of jokes, his attempt still made me chuckle.

“Why are you so nervous, Jamie?” I folded my arms atop of one another on the table, leaning forward against them,

“Oh god… where to start?” He laughed at himself, reaching upwards to brush his hair back. “Well first of all I was late… which really wasn’t my fault, and I’m sorry. I had to- stay over time at my job. Then I had to run home and grab a shower real quick. It threw off my whole plan. Then I came here and find you sitting all alone- and I just felt bad. But you look- like.. amazing. I feel like I could have dressed a little nicer. And you’re kinda intimidating. When I lived in California I usually had a wingman, now I’m flying solo.. it’s kinda scary. Not to mention I’m new to this whole area. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go on a date so soon,” he seemed amused by his own misfortunes. A nice refreshing attitude to the usual of people whining and complaining. He drew in a deep breath only to sigh. “It’s been a long day, and I really didn’t want to mess this up. I still don’t.” It was the only explanation I needed. The judgement was lifted from my shoulders fairly quickly.

“It’s okay.. you haven’t messed anything up yet.” Less than minutes ago I would have had a different response. “Hopefully this wine’ll take the edge off too, yeah?” I watched Jamie’s anxieties melt away, nodding with a wide grin.

“Yeah.. that would be amazing.”

And it certainly was. The minute the wine came Jamie and I dove in. We opened up far more, and I learned a lot about the man in front of myself. He told jokes, he spoke about what he loved and what he was passionate about, and he asked a million questions about me. When our food came the conversation slowed but it didn’t stop. I was taken with his smile, his glow, his tentativeness. And just like he promised, when we finished eating, he paid for everything. I hadn’t planned on spending any more time than necessary with the man, at least not at first. But I’d admit the turn of events made me sad to think of the fact that I’d have to say goodbye. Or would I?

“I had an amazing night,” Jamie spoke as he stood from his chair, grabbing his coat off the back of it.

“I did too.. but it’s not over yet.” I watched his brow rise in surprise as I stood too. “We have one more stop.” I walked around the table and reached for him. Jamie had no problem with letting me take hid hand. We walked side by side out of the restaurant, and he made sure to hold the door for me. “We should get an Uber,” I suggested, reaching for my phone. Though Jamie was quick to argue.

“No, they take too long. I’ll call a friend.” We sat down beside one another on the bench outside of the building. I leaned into Jamie’s side for warmth, and he was swift to wrap his arm around me while he dialed a number on his phone.

“Hey…”

I tuned out the conversation as I watched cars drive in and out of the lot. I relished in Jamie’s warmth, though I also told myself I was crazy for giving in to him so easily. I usually wasn’t into men like him. But he was certainly an exception.

“My friend said he’ll be over in five minutes.” I nodded as Jamie spoke.

“That’s pretty fast.”

“He’s really supportive.” Jamie laughed softly. “Where are we headed?”

“Cant say.”

“As long as you don’t axe murder me.” I rolled my eyes and laughed at the brunette’s words.

“You’re safe with me, Jamie.”

“That’s good.” I looked up at him, only to find him staring back. His blue eyes held questions I couldn’t decipher.

“What?” I finally asked, breaking the silence and recognizing the closeness.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing at all.” I smiled at his words. “You’re very pretty.” My heart fluttered and I looked away.

“Jamie,” I scolded, not wanting to be flustered.

“I’m serious,” he insisted with a giggle. I felt a cold hand touch the side of my neck as he moved my hair. I shivered. “Your beauty is more intimidating than your scowl.” He teased, causing my head to whip back in his direction. I swatted the man’s chest, laughing along with him as he found humor in his own joke.

“You’re mean,” I pouted.

“Please tell me where we’re going.” I laughed, watching his baby blues adopt a puppy dog stare.

“No way. Quit asking.” I pushed myself away from him, only to have him snatch my arm and pull me right back. I laughed, standing to try and get away before he followed suit. Jamie scooped me up into his arms, holding my back against his chest. All I could focus on was his beautiful laughter.

“Please-“ the honk of a horn cut him off. We both looked to see a bright red truck pulling up to the entrance of the building. “Oh wow.. that was fast,” Jamie mumbled before releasing me. He walked to the edge of the sidewalk and opened the back door of the truck. “Ladies first.” He held my hand as I stepped up into the vehicle, and Jamie was quick to follow suit.

“Seems like this date’s going well.” The man in the front seat turned to look at us. “Where are we headed?” I stood up and leaned over the middle console to speak with the man. We eventually settled on typing the address of the location into his phone before I fell back into my seat. The man let out a long whistle that I could tell intrigued Jamie. “Seems like this date is going really well.” The man teased.

“Where are you taking me?” Jamie insisted on asking. I ignored his question, and each one that followed for the entirety of the ride. His focus shifted from myself to the scenery out the window when he noticed we were leaving the city. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was far enough out of the suburbs to be intriguing. We crossed a few bridges, and found ourselves in the midst of a riverside neighborhood before Jamie started to put two and two together. The calm, ‘you have arrived’ of the GPS caused him to look back at me.

“Is this your house?”

“Surprise?” I pushed the car door open and slipped out. “Join me.” It wasn’t a demand. More so a request. Jamie had no issue saying yes. He followed me out of the car.

“Be safe!” The man in the truck called.

“Thanks Ty!” Jamie waved as his friend left, and I was quick to begin rummaging through my clutch for my house keys.

“You live on the river?”

“Wait ‘till you see my back deck.” I guided him to the front door, opening the glass door and unlocking the deadbolt of the actual door. I stepped inside and kicked my flats off as Jamie followed, toeing off his dress shoes. My home was a patchwork of decor. My walls were lined with a fresh yet old looking floral wallpaper, I had China cabinets full of old glassware my grandparents had passed down to me. Somewhere I had knitted quilts and a shelf full of inherited thymbols. The scent of fresh flowers was the leading smell in the home, and Jamie was quick to find the source of that scent as I closed the door. I turned to find him sniffing the pot full of dahlias seated on a stand by the window next to the door.

Why had I never been into men like this before? Whatever uncertainties I had about bringing him home slowly melted away.

“Want anything to drink?” I asked softly, catching his attention.

“What do you have?”

“Fresh iced tea, pop, water.”

“Tea would be nice.” Jamie followed me into the kitchen, taking in the decor as I poured two glasses of tea. When I was done I led him out of the kitchen and into the dining room, giving him his cup. I walked past the table, opening the sliding glass doors to the back deck that stretched out over the riverbank. The fairy lights strung on the roof of the deck glowed in a comforting way. I opened the window next to the glass door where my record player sat.

“You have a beautiful home,” Jamie spoke softly while I searched for a record. I found one and set it up to play before turning the device on.

“Thank you. I don’t like too many modern things.” I stepped outside with Jamie, and sat down on the swing at the edge of the deck. Jamie sat with me.

“Is there a reason you brought me here?”

“It’s private. Intimate.” I shrugged, eyes settling on the river.

“You trust me?”

“Asks the man who hid behind his menu when he sat down. I’d say there isn’t much to be cautious of.” I teased, laughing softly. I turned to face him, draping my legs over his own and leaning my back against one of the arm rests of the swing. “I don’t like to bring men home.” I admitted before taking a sip of my tea. “But that’s because many of them aren’t like you.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” I peeked at him, watching his lips turn upwards into a smile. “I’d hate to make your friend drive back out here this evening.”

“That’s the only reason?” Jamie asked teasingly, resting his free hand on my shin. I laughed.

“Maybe I have more.. but they’re secrets.” I shrugged. “Let’s just say it was a good first date.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[tojisprettywife]

{note: been heavily thinking about Manager! Nanami. again, y’all know, not proof read. so some hcs, mostly SFW, slightly suggestive. first time writing for him 😵‍💫. yes most ppl, think he’s confident, and all that, i beg to differ. he seriously seems like he’d try not so hard to be obvious especially when he tries to court you.i hope it’s okay.}

🌷manager! nanami, who never even paid much attention while you joined the team as the new intern. since he hates his corporate job so much, would he even pay attention?.

🌷manager! nanami who later that week, finds himself staring as your hips sway in a tight skirt, as you walk in front of him, heading to a meeting. he quickly composes himself, to maintain professionalism and ethics. as the meeting gets started, 40 minutes into, you had to present something. suddenly, his focus is completely on you, he tries to tone it down a bit? in order you don’t feel self conscious about yourself. he’s completely zoning out, the only thing he knows is that you’re infront of him. not a single word you’re saying or what’s going on in that point of time you were presenting, registered to him.

🌷manager! nanami who as the meeting comes to an end, he tries to take his time, collecting his papers, files, so he can walk back with you to the department.

🌷manager! nanami who can’t help thinking of all kinds of scenarios, especially ones where you and him, get into empty conference room to sneak in hugs and kisses or maybe more… if you’re down.. later..

🌷manager! nanami who calls you into his cabin, just so he can try to talk to, have a small talk, get closer and preferably wants to get to know you after work, personally. he terribly fails since he can’t gather his courage to talk to you properly w/o feeling like a creep or making awkward

🌷manager! nanami who as soon as he gets to know there’s a business trip, picks you as his partner to go with, in the name of “teaching/mentoring” only to court and know you better.

🌷manager nanami who loves when you and him get on a crowded elevator bc he gets to be so so so close to him, his chest pressing against yours “I’m sorry, it’s a bit too crowded today” he genuinely apologizes but he can’t help like it all too much.

🌷manager! nanami whose eyes are on the buttons of your shirt on your bust, imagining how it’s underneath, but he snaps back to his senses, his eyes looking into yours again, as you speak.

🌷manager! nanami who can’t help stare at your lips, as you speak, wanting to know how it’d feel against his, how you’d taste and most of all how pretty it’d be around his….

🌷manager! nanami who thought his life was too dull, too boring, with your sudden appearance it’s all more vibrant and beautiful. he finds himself thinking like a teenager, trying every way to get close to you w/o making it obvious

🌷manager! nanami who compliments you when you do your work well or when you present well, which causes the rest of the department to gossip a little “maybe he likes you, y/n”, you wave your hand and laugh it off.

🌷manager! nanami who does in fact pay special attention to you, offering you rides home, randomly buying you snacks. “i thought you’d like this”

🌷manager! nanami who looks forward everyday to get to work, bc he gets to see you.

🌷manager! nanami who tries to brush shoulders each time you walk beside him.

🌷manager! nanami who pathetically tries to hide it all, without knowing how obvious he’s being.

🌷manager! nanami who is head over hells for you.

🌷manager! nanami who fell in love for the first time, with you.

(any sort of interaction is very much appreciated! :) )

[alchemistc]

Eddie practices his arguments with Steve.

The thing is -

Here's the thing. It's not that he's expecting an argument. So far every time either one of them have been irritated with one another, or pissed off about something, they usually just, like, talk about it and shit. Healthy-like, which is -

Totally fucking weird for Eddie My-Parents-Fought-As-A-Love-Language Munson and Steve Still-Figuring-Out-Its-Okay-To-Be-Loved Harrington. It's weird, it is, and Eddie can't help but wonder if Steve is just bottling shit up until it explodes out of him and he realizes that this thing they're doing just isn't worth it anymore.

So.

So Steve does this thing, right?

This thing where he rolls his jaw and sometimes it pops and it makes Eddie want to stick a curly straw up his nose and scramble his own brains. And he's such a fucking neat freak that every time he's over, he ends up rearranging Eddie's room - not even in purpose, just. He likes to touch things, and Eddie gets it, he does, but touching things usually leads to picking things up leads to setting them back down and before Eddie's had time to look up, Steve has swept empty beer cans into the trash and lined up Eddie's models in a neat row like they're troops readying for battle and since he's like a war buff they're always lined up like a little battalion which is cute but also frustrating as hell because - because Eddie's chaos is organized and now he can't find his fucking lyric journal with the song he's very much not ready for people to see, or know about, or -

The point. The point is Eddie has been gearing up to talk to Steve about it for three days now and he's now at the stage where he practices. Works out the scenarios, muddles through possibilities, tries to anticipate every way it could go tits up.

He's never - Steve is most of his firsts, and he knows it's dumb and romantic but he'd like Steve to be all of his lasts, too, and so what if that means he's pacing the length of the trailer (all the while perfecting his Steve-voicr, which has been a tough one to nail but he feels like he's getting there. He's smarter and more eloquent than he lets on, is Steve.) and arguing with himself. Resetting, back to the start, working through a disastrous turn where Steve accuses Eddie of cheating on him (nope, reset, Steve's well aware Eddie wouldn't, cut that from the options).

"And seriously, Eddie, how could you think I'd do that shit to you, you know -."

"What the hell?"

Eddie whirls.

Mike Wheeler is standing in his living room, staring at Eddie like he's grown a second head. Which. Shit. They haven't actually, like, told anyone that they're...doing whatever it is they're doing (There's things Eddie wants to call it, but he hasn't brought them up yet because they're terrifying and super fucking telling and even though he's pretty sure he and Steve are on the same page he doesn't want to presume) so the kids don't know. No one except Robin knows, and she's states away and busy so.

"What the hell right back, Wheeler, what are you doing here?"

"I left my chem textbook here last night. You said I could come get it."

And - sure, he definitely had, but he'd sort of been staring at the hollow where Steve's neck and shoulder met and imagining biting it when he said it, so -

"So you broke into my house?"

"The door was unlocked."

"So you walked uninvited INTO MY HOUSE?" And he's maybe hamming up the annoyance as cover, but Wheeler just stares at him.

"Are you practicing breaking up with Steve?" Wheeler asks without preamble, with zero inflection, not even a quirk of his brow, and Eddie -

Flounders, is a generous term for it. Really what he does is shriek, and cackle, and then cover it up with the weirdest laugh either of them have ever heard which covers nothing at all. "What are - why would you - what makes you think - listen, Michael, you can't just break into people's homes and accuse them of - of - what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Of having really terrible taste in men, Eddie, where's my textbook?"

"I don't fucking know, Wheeler, Steve rearranges shit all the time so who the hell knows where he would have -."

"It's probably on the bookshelf, then," Mike says, and then squints. "Are you...practicing arguing with Steve?"

"How do you even -?"

"Neither one of you is subtle."

"Shut up, Wheeler."

"If that's how you talk to Steve it's no wonder you have to practice your arguments."

"I'm not - you're infuriating."

Mike squares him with a look that reminds Eddie of when he's calculating hit points and strategizing his next move. He frowns. Sighs. "I have like ten minutes before I have to leave. Steve doesn't think you're cheating on him, so let's start from the top."

---

"The kids know," Eddie tells Steve, fingers shifting in Steve's hair, and Steve's lashes flash as he looks up from Eddie's lap. Mike had been - well, Wheeler might be half a decade younger but he'd been pretty instrumental in helping Eddie nail down the right approach to "Please stop cleaning up my messes you're ruining everything." so another non-argument is in the books, and Steve had looked confused about it but he'd agreed to try not to move shit around at least.

("I'm still cleaning up all the trash, though, you live like a goblin."

"It's hot that you know what a goblin is, baby."

"Nerd.")

"Are you...okay with that?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

It's not that he doesn't want to answer, it's just.

Okay he doesn't want to answer. Jesus Christ, he'd used Mike goddamn Wheeler as his Steve stand in to practice an argument that hadn't happened and he's still scared to call Steve his -

"I... don't really know. What to tell them." And that's - shit, not what he meant to say, Jesus.

"What do you mean?"

Steve crinkles his nose, and Eddie hates how goddamn cute it is, because he really wants to just, like, boop the tip of it and then suck Steve off but -

Where's Mike Wheeler when he needs him?

("If you ever tell Steve about this I'll tell Will to TPK your party for the next ten campaigns."

"Why would I tell Steve I'm helping you save your relationship?"

"Brownie points. So you can hold it over Henderson's head. Blackmail."

"I used to be terrified of you, but you're actually super lame, honestly."

"Preaching to the choir, my friend.")

"I mean, what...what do we tell them we...are?"

"Are you freaking out about calling me your boyfriend?"

"...no."

He shifts, and Eddie's fingers slip through the strands of Steve's hair as he shuffles, scoots, sits up and twists to face Eddie.

"I am, right? I mean...you want me to be?"

Eddie hasn't practiced this conversation, because - because it's presumptuous, because it felt sort of like jinxing it, because -

"Yeah. Duh. Of course I - shit. Yeah. Yes."

Steve's smile is bright and a little knowing. "I have a confession."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it."

"Trust me, you want to."

"Okay fine," Eddie tells him, eyes on Steve's hand as he slots their fingers together. Eddie hooks his pinkie along the edge of Steve's sleeve. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

"I'm actually kind of glad they already know. I've been trying to figure out how to tell them for a while. I've been, like - creating scenarios in my head to try to figure out how they're going to take it."

There's - okay, so Eddie's thinking a lot of things, right at this moment, like how Steve apparently also creates mind-scenarios to play out before a situation happens, and how they might want to test out their creativity in other areas, actually, and that derails his whole train of thought for a moment, but "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you been trying to figure out how to tell them?"

Eddie's not insecure, exactly, but he is a big fan of knowing what people he cares about think of him and how often they think of him and -

"I mean, since, like, the first time I kissed you?"

Eddie is stupid crazy about Steve Harrington. He's fully fucking feral for this man, honestly, it's dumb. Absolutely ridiculous.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie tells him, and the tips of Steve's ears are pink.

"I know," he says, with a smarmy little grin because Eddie had admitted (under duress, and screw anyone who doesn't think a naked Steve Harrington in your lap is duress) he'd been obsessed with Harrison Ford for like a full year in his tweens, and Steve takes every opportunity to remind Eddie he knows.

"I'd also very much like to circle back to you creating scripts in your mind about telling the kids about us."

"Henderson's always a nightmare, I swear to god."

"We gotta teach him some humility."

"He respects you more than he respects me, you teach him."

"You gonna say it back?"

"Well not now," Steve says, and Eddie wants to bite him.

---

"I love you," Steve says, while Dustin and Mike and Max argue about who knew first.

Eddie hasn't practiced this one. "I know," he says, and Steve's brow quirks when Dustin catches the exchange and groans.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Hey! Love your work and was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a really good cook/baker!

A/N: Hey there! I'm so glad you like my work :D I really hope you enjoy this one too!

DARRY CURTIS

He swore he couldn’t love you any more than he already did but then you went and started cooking for the boys and Darry found out just how wrong he was

It’s so nice to have someone else who can cook and who Darry can trust alone in the kitchen, he knows you’re not gonna start a fire or something

You’re the one cooking dinner now most of the time, simply because the boys like eating your cooking the best

Darry will cook for you sometimes! Especially if you’ve had a bad week or it’s a big milestone in your relationship, blah blah blah, Darry has a thing for taking care of his partners, and that comes out in the form of food

King of hyping up your cooking, especially your chocolate cakes! You’re the only one that can bake a chocolate cake and get Darry to admit that yours tastes better than his cake does 

Also also also, he asks you to pack him lunches sometimes so that he can take it to work with him and just kind of have a little part of you there with him <3 I highly suggest dropping a little handwritten note into his lunchbox, but y’know, that’s just me talking

SODAPOP CURTIS

Don’t tell Darry, but he likes when you cook or bake for him more than when his brother does, Sodapop thinks it just tastes better

*Insert a joke about how Sodapop likes to claim it’s because you make your stuff with love and Darry doesn’t but we all know that’s nonsense*

I kid you not, Sodapop is a bottomless pit and not a picky eater by any stretch of the imagination, so if you need a taste-tester for some dish you’re trying out, look no further than your pretty boy

Show up to the DX with a packed lunch for the two of you, flirt and giggle before giving it to him, stay with him and eat together in the garage on the hood of some ridiculously Soc car that Steve was supposed to fix later in the day

Nothing says I love you more than sitting on a car and laughing during his lunch break, doing nothing but sitting there and just being together

Plus! Steve will get sort of grumpy and pouty because he wanted to have Sodapop with him for his lunch break but you got there before him and he can’t really be mad because you guys are just too cute but he’ll be funny to watch  

PONYBOY CURTIS

You’re into cooking? Baking? That’s cool, Ponyboy has no problem eating whatever you’re working on and loves to be in the kitchen with him

He’s a menace and likes to sit on the countertops or eat the food before it’s cooked, so maybe it’s not always the best idea to have him there with you, but, y’know, he’s cute so it’s way okay!

The two of you have definitely made a mess of Darry’s kitchen at some point, cookies gone wrong or a mini-flour food fight, so there’s a high chance that you’ve gotten Ponyboy banned from the kitchen

If you bring anything treat-wise for him to school, expect the boys to try and steal some of it, especially Two-Bit, that boy will literally steal anything he can

Hype Man pt. 2, Pony talks about your cooking so much that Darry has probably asked you to just come over and cook dinner one day so that Pony will stop telling him about how you’d cook everything differently

Also, strong opinion that he only knows how to cook very simple meals, scrambled eggs and grilled cheeses and things, and is seriously impressed by when you make things that are like even a fraction of a bit of something better than those

DALLAS WINSTON

If your folks are out and you’re planning on cooking? Please oh please, call up Dally and let him in so he can eat whatever you’re making

He’s not helpful, he eats your food and then doesn’t help with the dishes, I wouldn’t recommend him as a sous chef at all

But! He’s honest and will tell you exactly how he feels about what you’re cooking, which can be a blessing and a curse, just as things usually are with our dear Mr. Winston

If Dally doesn’t like something, he’s gonna bitch about it, but if he likes it, god he’s gonna compliment you and compliment you and compliment you and kiss you so many times as a thank you

No one else is allowed to touch anything you make for him, he threatens to and has bitten and snapped at people who get too close to his plates before, I’m not even lying to you

Also, don’t let him cook because Dally’ll probably end up burning something, solid headcanon that he can barely cook, and he’ll probably end up blaming you for whatever he’s messed up!  

JOHNNY CADE

Hard one, I don’t know exactly how I feel about Johnny with an S/O who’d bake or cook all the time, but I know he’d like it!

You’d probably make an extra lunch for him every so often (every other day or so because you know you love him) and the two of you would eat your lunches together at school

Johnny likes everything you make, he’ll tell you how great everything is and shower you with praise and compliments as he shovels food like he’s some sort of chipmunk

I don’t think he’s picky either? Like, I don’t think he cares very much about picking and choosing when it comes to food, he’d rather just put it in his mouth and go on with his life

But I think Johnny has a favorite thing that you make, I don’t know what exactly, but it’s gonna be something sweet, maybe cookies or brownies

He’s a horrendous cook, okay? Recipe or not, he absolutely sucks and it’s terrible having him in the kitchen with you but he likes to stand with you so I think you should just let him hang out as long as he promises not to touch anything- 

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

You’re helping him babysit his sister? And you’re making dinner? For both of them? And you’re having the time of your life in the kitchen?

Two-Bit thought he was in love with you already, jeez louise, he’s so gone for you and is about to have a meltdown because you’re just standing in his kitchen making dinner for everyone 

He tries to kiss you and almost burns himself on the stove because he’s too busy staring at you he doesn’t realize where he placed his hand and then you’ve got to take a break from cooking to take care of him

Two really does like what you cook though! He’s not picky and he’s open to whatever you want to feed him, I promise! 

Come up to him with a spoonful of mystery and tell him to open his mouth and swallow, Two-Bit will do it immediately, no questions asked whatsoever

He’s a good guy, alright, and he’s got simple thoughts, he just really likes seeing you when you’re cooking, when you’re in your element and I think he’d be a really great pal to have in the grocery store 

STEVE RANDLE

Have I mentioned? That Steve? Is a cheerleader? And likes to hype you up? Because that’s running around and around in my mind

For the love of everything, you better have a chocolate cake recipe memorized because that’s what Steve’s always going to ask you to make, he can’t get enough of your chocolate cakes

You’re gonna have to persuade him to eat anything else, honestly, he’s just so in love with you and the cake, it’s gonna be a challenge 

If you don’t let him in the kitchen with you, Steve’s just gonna whine and pout until you eventually cave and let him in from where he’s been throwing a fit in the doorway

He’s good though, he knows when to keep his hands off, especially when he’s coming from work and covered in grease, he honestly really doesn’t want to help with the cooking anyway

Steve would much rather just watch you and talk, laughing about your days and just be there with you while you cook and bake your little heart out  

TIM SHEPARD

He’s picky with food I have a feeling? Like Tim likes what he likes and that’s what he’s gonna eat, y’know?

Bowl of cereal in the morning, a burger when he goes out to the diner, Tim’s not really into the whole trying-new-things but I have a feeling, if you tried hard enough, you could convince him to try something a little new

Present it to him and smile, bat your eyelashes, say your pretty pleases and beg just a little bit and there’s nothing Tim can do but say yes <3

He’s a good person to cook with! I think he knows what he’s doing enough and likes to cook, so I think it could totally be a bonding thing for you!

The moment you cook dinner for Angela and Curly, Tim knows he’s not gonna let you go anywhere because if you love him to care for his siblings as well, Tim knows you’re definitely a keeper

He likes to come up behind you when you’re cooking and hug you, murmuring into your ear as you throw things together, some compliments and some teasing remarks, but they’re all said with such love it makes things totally cool-

CURLY SHEPARD

This little shit, Curly is head over heels even before you tell him that you like to cook/bake, he’s gonna be long gone when he learns about that

He thinks it’s great, absolutely loves it and absolutely loves you, and wants to hear about everything you’ve ever made

You need a taste tester? Someone to go grocery shopping with you? Someone to talk with while you cook?

Don’t you even worry, baby, Curly is more than happy to spend all day in the kitchen with you while he does no cooking whatsoever, just hangs with you

And, so uh, y’know how cookies and brownies and stuff have that sort of window where you just sort of put them in the oven and wait? Yeah, Curly likes to take advantage of that time period and kiss you senseless

Tell me I’m wrong, you can’t because you know that this boy will take any chance he can get to make out with you, regardless if he runs the risk of burning those cookies to a crisp or not-

[scary-lasagna]

Hello, I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if it was okay if to request LJ, Bloody Painter, and Hoodie (separately) with a siren reader? Reader, in her human form, is slightly stronger, durable, and faster. However, in their siren form (which happens when they get submerged underwater) they have the typical powers of a siren, but they also have limit consciousness. What I mean by that is that they are a lot more feral in this form, and doesn’t really recognize anyone in that form, but like, around their partners, they’d sort of feel familiar to them, so reader in their siren form won’t attack them or anything. Hope this makes sense!

In my AU sirens can also transform into bird-like creatures! They have power over the sea and the air :] I decided to implement that as well.

Laughing Jack

Jack, as you know, runs an old, worn-down circus.

There are no more acts of beasts, or rare animals from the human realm, but more so of a retirement place for the creatures.

He basically bought you off of the black market, watching the algae float around the the cramped tank they kept you in.

There was no way he'd be able to sleep at night, knowing he could prevent another lonely night for you.

You got a lovely spot next to Snowflake, his prized albino Tiger, which Jack thought was so funny, because of the cat and fish dynamic.

But after research and asking around after taking care of you for a month, he concluded to take you out of the water.

He enjoyed that month of bonding and feeding you, and even reading you stories whenever you seemed bored with any enrichment toys and food he gave you. He wondered if you would even remember him.

But you did, and you thanked him profusely for rescuing you, even if he had no idea how much it cost or energy it took to rehabilitate a siren-like yourself.

And Jack was always willing to learn whatever you told him, even bringing up stories from your culture about how the sea will reach toward the moon in an attempt to reach its lover that flew too high.

And it took am embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that Jack's feathers were fake, simply a silly decoration he enjoyed.

But over time, you two grew close, and now you have a rather large tank full of a small reef and a complete array of fish to keep you happy whenever you decide to dip your toes.

Helen

Oh, Helen is just head over heels for you.

He thinks you're the most beautiful muse he's ever come across, and every time you step foot in the water you two fall in love all over again.

You actually almost killed him the first time you met. Both of you thought you were alone, and quickly realized the presence of the other.

He managed to squeeze you into his painting of the sunset, but before leaving, he gathered seashells into the tide.

You almost bit his arm off, and ended up getting a face full of oil paint. It tasted lovely, as you can imagine, (it tasted like you gulped down an oil spill).

As while busy gagging and attempting to wash your mouth out, and drink the sea water, which would make even the best of sirens sea-sick, Helen took charge and dragged you out of the water to help you.

And you hit it off since, and many of his paints of you have gained quite the popularity.

Brian

Not gonna lie, he thinks you are pretty terrifying.

The first time you went to the beach, Brian expected something like Ariel, or even the mermaids from Pirates of the Caribbean.

He was not expecting your true form in the slightest.

Your jaw unhinged and ripped your cheeks clean in half to reveal not one, but multiple rows of sharp teeth.

And he's seen many things and creatures in his career as a proxy, but a siren had not been one of them. Slender had mentioned staying away from them, especially as humans, you can be lured whenever they decide to be bored of you, and then drag you to the sea floor.

Or maybe they'll grab you up in their talons leading to sculpted human legs and drop you in a vat of bubbling acid.

Whatever the case was, it seemed as if it went into one ear and out with other with Brian, because he fell in love.

But damn, in the water you were hella creepy. And of course, you thought it was a game to scare this familiar stranger shitless since he seemed so keen on staying around you.

He managed to lure you out from the water with a little jar of "siren-bait" from one of the seaside shops. It didn't work as expected, but you really just wanted to see if it contained any edible food.

But he liked pruning your wings and picking off the casing of new feathers whenever they came in, and if he wasn't feeling too tired, he would give you a small massage to your shoulders after holding up your wings for so long.

[vhstown]

miles g morales ★ general headcanons

warnings: sort of angsty, mentions of his dad's death, money being tight and such 😞

a/n: hi my little piranhas im feeding you today say AHHHHHHHH.... all my random non-relationship miles g thoughts dumped into one! he has 6 lines but less is more right 😁 im okay i promi

Let me just geek out about his non-existent gear functions for a moment 😞 Miles is all about little modifications and improvement so when he messes around with his uncle's gear he decides to make some adjustments to the design and also the functionality. Has his own spin to all of his gear cause a part of him really wants to be like the superheroes he sees in comics with their own sort of persona. But of course it has to be functional so...!

All of his gear is coordinated and he has a mode where he can turn off all the lights for stealth and such! The lights are actually off most of the time but he puts them on to show off mostly or make himself known when he's bored of waiting.

A really cool function would be if he could redirect or offset his lights so when he's fighting in complete darkness he can easily confuse his enemies. Tends to scope out places and mess around with the power supplies — uses the occasional smoke bomb too. He's in his element in dark, maze-like places, which essentially makes Brooklyn his concrete playground.

Scarily good at lockpicking. Has broken into his own house multiple times from forgetting his keys. He can open most doors with simple tools and disable electronic locks with a little work.

Can I just mention his shoes as well... they're like the jumpy shoes from Subway Surfers you can't prove me wrong until the next movie comes out like— Okay no but seriously I imagine he can stick to surfaces and things and maybe they can propell him upwards? You see those glowing lights idk figure it out 😞

Also somebody (I have no idea who but here's the link to the original post) had a headcanon that he'd have a high auditory intelligence, so for a while, he spends time developing a voice modulator. He likely has one anyway to keep his identity a secret, but what he really wants to do is is create a device that can replicate other people's voices.

Because he's good with sound and physics he makes it work in no less than a few weeks. The first voice he tries is his uncle's and he says a bunch of dumbass stuff. (Aaron is a little annoyed but more proud of his nephew than anything.) Eventually it gets to the point where he can calibrate it with a couple clicks since he has such a good ear for frequencies and the like that deceiving villains is no trouble at all.

I think Aaron and Miles would still have that cool uncle and nephew relationship but its also a mentor and student one. While Miles is good at the tech stuff I think he's a pretty lousy fighter at the beginning and Aaron has to teach him a LOT.

Uncle Aaron probably used to fight for sport back in the day (boxing mayhaps? 😁) so a lot of Miles' technique stems from MMA due to its versatility (anything hand-to-hand at least.) Even then, most of the problem is being able to think quick and act quicker, so Miles goes through lots of practical training (so he's being chased by the Sinister Six from day one 😭) It's well worth it though because without the Spider-powers he has a lot of catching up to do.

While training with Aaron he's exposed to a lot of his old records and develops a taste for jazz. He comes to associate certain manoeuvres with the way the music goes, so he tends to hum to himself while casually knocking the wind out of people. His uncle finds it just a little creepy, but again, he's glad to see Miles coming along.

In fact, Aaron is relieved. His nephew had been reserved and was pretty much holed up in his own room for weeks after his dad passed. Of course the passing of Jefferson was hard on Aaron, but Miles has it even harder. Eventually, they decide to paint the mural together, and Miles lets Aaron know what's on his mind. He's always been close to his uncle but especially then spending time roaming the streets, painting, boxing and listening to old records was his lifeline.

Miles figures out his uncle is the Prowler before Aaron even lets him in on it. After seeing how determined his nephew his is, that's when it all started.

But with everything going on in his vigilante life, his normal life is something he has has to be careful not to fall behind on. At the age where college applications are coming up, Miles is driven to the bone with school, despite not actually being there half the time. Still, he's somehow averaging As and the occasional B, easily the top of his class in AP Physics and Calc.

He doesn't try to talk to people in school like he might've before, but he's not antisocial by any means (sometimes his bluntness is mistaken for talking back though 💀)

He's also the type of dude to do homework as soon as the teacher hands it out, because he knows he will not have time later (and to avoid all the night-before crises of freshman year.)

Rio is being pulled thin too, always covering shifts for her colleagues at the hospital just so she can have a little extra pay. She's been saving for Miles' birthday since his last one, always checks his clothes for holes or if they still fit, and makes sure there's something in the microwave if she can't be there for dinner. Rio makes sure he always has everything he needs, even while paying bills and rent. They're not struggling too much, but it's not like they can do whatever they want.

Despite that, they're managing; what she doesn't know is that the sigh of relief she breathes every month is because of him. Miles always makes sure to take care of his belongings, put in any cash he makes from his "part time job" into her account, just doing whatever he can to help. Also, he's become more and more protective of his mom, and he always takes the opportunity to do errands for her, especially when it's getting dark outside.

Miles is actually more paranoid than her when it comes to saving. Even when it's winter, and she tells him to turn on the heating whenever, you best believe he's throwing on his jacket in his own room and firming the cold. It's entirely unnecessary of course, but he can't shake the guilt when he feels the only reason his mom works so hard is because of him. They've moved twice already and there's no way they're moving again, so if the landlord gives them trouble he'll just give them hell (let's just hope it won't come to that.)

Miles learnt how to treat his own injuries from Rio. She taught him basic first aid at the very least, and on a couple of occasions he's tried to learn things himself with the clunky old first aid kit at home. Rio never asks why the stitch on one of their pillows is done with dental floss, and looks strangely like that of a suture (a very bad one at that.)

His Spanish also improved a lot too. After his dad's passing, he met a lot of relatives from his mom's side that he doesn't remember ever seeing before, but it encourages him to learn how to speak better. Long gone are the days of silently observing family drama over the phone — he has to keep up now, and he'll defend his mom cada día de la semana (even if she's somewhat embarrassed by it.) Essentially he's at that level of fluency where he can be rude without being rude 😭 (just saying some of the things his relatives say are NOT helpful.)

With all of this going on in his life, it's no surprise that sleep doesn't come easy. Or maybe it is, considering how much he works his body. Either way, he's left staring at the ceiling or curled up on his side most nights, the untouched toys and collectibles in his room to keep him company. Miles used to sleep at 8pm on the dot and wake up at 6; that was when things were good, and he didn't have his whole universe on his shoulders. All his bed is now is a place to collapse, and close his eyes until it's light outside. Most days, he's exhausted — bone-tired — but the most he gets is a light, forced, uncomfortable sleep. It's one in which he wakes up more tired than he was the night before, but he presses on, getting exercise in during the morning and trying to make breakfast for his mom because he knows a slice of toast is the most she'd bother to have.

And despite all that's changed since his dad has passed, Miles is still a kid. He has a thousand pictures from the time he went to Comic-con, a sketchbook full of drawings he never finishes, meticulously-organised playlists, college applications — all in the midst of a city that's falling apart at the seams as much as he is.

But he's okay, for now. As much as he can be.

"Keep your head up, son."

It's what his dad would've wanted, at the very least.

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

hey 😊 "where's ain't no love part thre—" (GLASS SHATTERING NOISE) (CAT MRYEOWING) (BABY CRYING) (POLICE SIRENS) (WEE WOO WEE WOO)

forget miles IM being pulled thin ... half of this may or may not be projection... schrödingers headcanons anyone 😞 anyways ive been like busy. so . SOON! (lying in 4K)

reblogs appreciated!!! 😘 FIND MY MASTERLIST HERE and urrrr my 42 x reader headcanons here if you're interested ?