#What Is Normal for the Spider... [Musing]

[steveseddie]

boy wonder

steddie | rating: t | wc: 999 | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, steve and eddie recovering at the hospital together, eddie just had surgery, he’s a little high, fluff

for @steddie-spooktober day fourteen, prompt “bats”

read on ao3

“Do you think I’ll turn into Batman?”

Steve looks up from the magazine he’s been skimming through to find Eddie peering at him from his hospital bed. 

The sight of him covered in bandages and hooked to IVs and monitors still sends a shiver down Steve’s spine. But as the days go by and Eddie keeps getting better— looking better, less and less like he’s on the brink of death— it gets easier for Steve to handle it.

He’s surprised that Eddie woke up so soon after his surgery. The doctor said it’d be a while before the drugs wore off so Steve prepared himself to sit here for hours waiting for Eddie to wake up, just like he did after his first and then his second surgery. 

But it’s been less than two hours since they rolled him back into his room and Eddie is already up, eyes half-lidded and words slightly slurred and nonsensical, but awake and alert— and waiting for Steve to reply.

“Um, come again?”

“Do you think I’ll turn into Batman?” Eddie repeats, head lolling to the side to blink at Steve. “You know, ’cause I got bit by bats.”

Normally, Steve wouldn’t argue about superheroes with a nerd like Eddie, but he’s read a few Batman comics in his life and even he knows that’s not right. 

“I’m pretty sure Batman didn’t get bit by bats, Eddie,” he says with an amused chuckle. 

“No, but Spiderman got bit by a spider,” Eddie says, wagging his finger— the one with the pulse oximeter— at Steve like what he’s saying makes perfect sense. 

To him— pumped full of some pretty hardcore drugs— it probably does.  

“Okay,” Steve says, deciding to humor him. He shifts on the chair, leaning forward so that his back isn’t pressed against anything. They cleaned his wounds and changed his bandages before he came to Eddie’s room and by now the numbing cream has started to wear off and it stings. “Well, I also got bit by bats. Does that mean I’ll become Batman too?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together in a cute little frown. “There can only be one Batman.”

“And why does it have to be you?”

Eddie thinks it over for a second before propping himself up in his elbows, eyes wide. “I dress in black! And I have bat tattoos!” 

“Well, I have rich parents,” Steve counters with. It’s the one thing he knows he shares with the character. 

“Well, my parents are dead!” Eddie says. It’s probably the drugs’ fault that he sounds so enthusiastic about it. “I win!”

“Fine,” Steve says, rolling his eyes half-heartedly, “I guess you can be Batman.”

Eddie grins, satisfied, flopping back against the bed, his hair fanning out against the pillow. “You can be Robin,” he tells Steve, giving him a lopsided smile. 

“Sure, Eds.”

Eddie perks up and props himself on his elbows again. “Hey, we should dress up as them for Halloween!”

Steve can’t help but make a face. “No way, man.”

“Oh, right,” Eddie says, his smile falling, “we won’t be friends anymore by then.”

Wait— what?

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, frowning. That makes even less sense than his drug-induced Batman musings. 

“Well, you only hang out with me ’cause we’re both stuck in this hospital,” Eddie says matter-of-factly, “but once we’re out of here, you’ll have no reason to put up with me.”

Steve starts shaking his head even before he’s done talking. He knows Eddie is only saying this out loud because of the drugs but it’s something he must’ve thought about it before. It makes Steve sad to think he’s been feeling this way for the last couple of weeks and Steve didn’t know. 

“Eddie, I don’t ‘put up with you’, okay? We’re friends, I like your company. You’re like, cool and really funny,” Steve says as earnestly as he can. “And we saved the world together! That means you’re stuck with me, man.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wider as Steve talks. He blinks slowly at him as he processes the words before his lips stretch into a big grin. 

“Does that mean we can dress up together?”

Steve’s lips scrunch to the side. “Yeah, no, I’m not wearing a nerdy costume, especially one where I have to wear tights,” he says in a bitchy tone. 

“But you’d look so good in them,” Eddie insists and then leers at Steve, licking his lips before he adds in a low voice— “big boy.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and just like the first time Eddie called him that, he blushes and forgets how to speak from how flustered he feels.

He’s lucky he’s not the one hooked to a heart monitor right now or the damn thing would’ve started beeping like crazy in time with his stuttering heartbeat. 

He’s saved from having to say anything in response to that by a doctor coming into the room at that moment to check on Eddie, distracting him and breaking the weird tension. It’s a good thing she doesn’t pay any attention to Steve or she might ask why his face is bright red. 

“Hey, Doc,” Eddie says as she checks his vitals. The doctor hums in acknowledgment. “I’m Batman.” 

“Sure you are, Mr. Munson,” she says in a bored tone but Eddie doesn’t seem to care that she acts so dismissively. 

His head lolls to the side and he gives Steve a dimpled grin. “And that’s my Boy Wonder,” he says, eyes warm and molten as they stare at him.

Steve doesn’t know why that makes his heart skip a beat or why it makes his lungs feel like they can’t draw any air in.

Or why he wants Eddie to look at him like that again so desperately that he’s genuinely considering wearing those tights on Halloween after all.

Maybe he should ask the doctor for a check-up after she’s done with Eddie, just to be safe. He thinks he might be coming down with something.

[moonwatcher2005]

Did I save you or did you save me

Neglected batsis reader x black butler kitties

Chapter 1

The door softly closes behind Y/N, and little droplets of water drip from both her and the box. Quietly, she sets the box down, not caring that the floor has been dirtied, and takes off her jacket that had shielded the cats from the relentless rain and wind. While Y/N hangs up her soaking wet jacket and disappears into a room to get a change of clothes, a black cat bravely jumps out of the box another black cat with yellow eyes follows. Cautiously, they explore the place, sniffing at some furniture and getting a feeling of the new environment.

CATS POV:

“My lord, this place seems to be safe.” Sebastian settles down on the floor, his tail swinging leisurely across the floor

“Yes, it indeed seems to be safe, for now ” Sebastian quickly side-eyed his seemingly archnemesis before exclaiming with a quite venomous voice.

“Tch Spider. . . “ Claude returns the sentiment with a “ Crow,” both acknowledging his existence while wishing for his violent death.

“Sebastian! Get me out of here! I'm soaking wet!” a smaller cat exclaimed.

“OH, me too, Bassy!”

“Grell, shut up.”

“Claude, I'm cold and hungry!” whined another one.

Claude lets out a tired sigh before jumping in the box again to retrieve his future lunch.

“Yes, my lord,” Mused Sebastian while following his rival.

After a while of trying to grab the smaller cats in a way that truly did not befit an earl like Ciel Phantomhive or Alois Trancy, they explored the space and eventually discovered the living room in which they curiously roamed about, while still soaking wet, mind you.

“Where did the girl go?” asked Ciel

Just as Sebastian was about to answer the tiny lord, a door opened and a pair of hurried footsteps crossed the flat, and the girl once again came into view. Her hair was wet, and she wearing a new change of clothes that weren't soaked, carrying in her hands a large white towel.

“Heheheh this is going to be interesting . . .”

Y/N POV:

What am I doing? Taking a dozen street cats when I have no idea how to keep a pet. Well, whatever I already took them in, even I am not that cruel to throw them out again.

I think to myself while searching for a towel. After successfully acquiring one, I return to the living room searching for the cats who have, by now, left the box.

They're going to dirty the whole place up like this. Sigh, if I don't clean this up, Alfred will kill me.

I froze. Even now I'm still thinking about them. A chuckle left my lips.

“I was about to join the other side, and yet I still have to clean up. Life sure was a joke. I stood there for a while, pitiying myself, while I could feel the curious looks from the cats.

One last deep sigh leaves my soul, and my eyes lock, or at least I think they do, with a grey and white Norwegian forest cat that for some reason had bangs covering its eyes.

“Hm, you're all soaking wet and dirty, yet you still casually roam around in my home? How rude,” I crouch down in front of the cat and stare at it. The cat simply tilts its head and meows at me. I blink, remembering why I got the towel in the first place, and I start making use of it and wrapping the towel around the grey cat. The other cats look at me, the two black ones, one with red brown eyes and the other with yellowish eyes. There were two smaller cats, most likely still kittens one a russian blue, which had one eye closed, and the other one a blond ragdoll kitten. Amongst them, a red cat stood out, surrounding it were two more cats who shared the same eye color as the red furred cat. Green and yellow orbs stare back at me.

“Follow me, you’re all dirty,” I commanded. I turned around and walked into the bathroom.

These cats aren't quite normal. I told them to follow, and they did. Did they understand me? Maybe they're worried for their little friend, but... the cat with the red and the one with yellow eyes... they're analyzing me, studying me like a person would

I focus back on the task, hand.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy.

I shake my head and place the grey cat in the bathtub. I turn around and grab the others with the matching eye colors. As I turn to get the blue kitten, I find myself struggling quite a lot. Seems like this one didn't appreciate being grabbed by a giant stranger.

“Stop struggling already, I'm trying to help” I proclaim, annoyed.

“Meow.” suddenly the kitten stopped stuggling after the red-eyed one intervined, and I wasfinallyy able to place the kitten into the tub with the others.

“Seems like you have a better grip on this one than I do.” I picked the red-eyed one up and mustered it for a while.

I stare into the cat's eyes and can't help but feel like the cat is analyzing me once again.

“You have pretty eyes...” My thoughts are interrupted by the very same cat that occupied them with a meow. I place the cat into the tub andfinallyy put the last two cats in the tub. Meanwhile, the ragdoll seemed to be quite pleased by the physical contact the other black cat with the yellow eyes seemed to be indifferent to me.

I take the shower head and turn on the water, making sure that the water is lukewarm, not too cold, and not too hot. Making quick work of rinsing the cats from the dirt while struggling with some more than others.

After all the cats were squeaky clean, I used the hairdryer at a low setting to dry their fur. The Red cat seemed to be especially pleased by this. I tried to use this opportunity to try to check the grey cat's eye colo,r but miserably failed to do so as it seemed to evade all of my attempts. After all of them were dry, I wraped them up in blankets and carried them into the living room and let them settle on the couch.

“I hope you guys are warmer now. Either way, it must be a lot more comfortable than the box I found you guys in.” The cats seemed to be communicating with each other when I realized that they needed names.

Can't go around just calling them by their physical appearance.

“You guys need names. I'm getting sick of having to call you guys by your fur color.”

I point at the grey cat, “You'll be Ivory, the blue one will be Blueberry.” Blueberry looked like I just offended his entire bloodline.

“The red one will be cherry,” Cherry looked pleased once again.

“Red eyes will be Ambrose and yellow eyes . . . I'll just call you gold, I guess I m not that great with names . . .” Gold was judging me while Ambrose smirked at him “ right . . . the overly affectionate ragdoll can be cinnamon roll. I remember this one girl in my class who named her ragdoll cat that so guessthat's fine.” Cinnamon meowed at me and nibbled at my fingers playfully. I scratch his head while I look at the two last remaining ones and take a better look at them. One of them was a tuxedo cat which ironically fit his serious aura, and the other one was a calico cat. “ Tuxeda cat . . . you remind me of my butler Alfred, but more serious. Unfortunately, Alfred the cat already exists . . . Edmund? How about that?” he blinked at me and let out a small meow.

“And at last we have the calico,” he starts to meow loudly as if he's complaining about being the last one to be named. I groan

“Ugh, my creativity is running out, and I'm tired, “ he meows louder.

“My god, calm down How about Jasper? I don't care if you like it or not you are Jasper from now on” as he was about to complain i hold his mouth shut.

“No complaining, I'm tired. If it wasn't for you cats, I would have been in a completely different place by now, but whatever. Guess I'll go get food. “Jasper was offended by my lack of care and started meowing up a storm as I got up and walked toward the kitchen to get some food for them.

“If I give you food, will you leave me alone ?” I ask as I put the plate with my leftovers of beef steak down

Note: Ciel is Blueberry, Sebastian is Ambrose, Grell is cherry, Undertaker is ivory, William is Edmund, Knox is Jasper, and Aois is cinnamon. Claude is gold.

When should I turn them back into humans? Anything specific you guys want to see happening? Also, romantic interests for reader?

[corroded-hellfire]

Reading AYW things has me thinking about Eddie and Reader sniffing baby Eliza right after they bring her home and she’s got that fresh baby smell and Luke and Ryan are like “what are they doing?”

-cj. @cheesewritings

Just out here fueling my own baby fever. Please enjoy some lil baby Eliza 💕

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Less than a month has gone by since you’ve given birth to your and Eddie’s baby girl and yet so much has changed. Your hormones still give you mood swings from time to time. Eddie feels a bit more tired than usual between being up at odd hours of the night and trying to make sure you and Eliza are being taken care of while still keeping Ryan and Luke’s normal weekly routine going. The boys dote over their baby sister, but their sleep has definitely been impacted as well by the high-pitched wailing that comes just down the hall every night. One morning at breakfast before school, Luke fell asleep with half of his face in his bowl of Corn Flakes. 

But every small discomfort is well worth it to have the most beautiful baby girl you’ve ever seen. Her eyes already threaten to be as wide and doe-like as her father’s and you know you’ll be in deep trouble then. The soft wispy baby hairs on her head are similar in color to Eddie’s and her eyebrows have the same arch as his. Eliza absolutely has your nose and lips though. Your husband swears it’s as if God copy and pasted the features right from you to your daughter. Whenever she smiles though, you see her brothers. It may still be gas for her at this age, but the smile that upturns her pretty pink mouth is the spitting image of what you see on the faces of your sons. Munson charm in full effect. 

Evenings have been the most unpredictable so far. Will Eliza be awake? Asleep? Hungry? Fussy? Happy? Content? Not to mention what Eddie or the boys will be like.

Tonight is a good night, though. The boys are down the hall playing video games in Ryan’s room, and you and Eddie are cuddled up on the couch, Eliza snuggly cradled between your arms. Spider-Man is playing on the television, but you’d both forgotten about the movie the second that your daughter woke up, about fifteen minutes into the superhero flick. 

“Oh, look what a big mouth you have!” you coo as your daughter releases a tiny yawn, as if she hasn’t spent most of her day sleeping. You envy the hours of rest infants need. 

Eddie gazes down at her adoringly and the love shining in his eyes threatens to have your heart burst right through your ribs. It’s no secret that he’s always wanted a daughter and it’s still dizzying to think that you’re the one to give that to him. 

Soft, gurgling baby noises come from the baby’s mouth as she looks back and forth from you to her father. Both you and Eddie chuckle when she lifts her small arms above her head, then on the way down stops to stick her tiny fingers in her mouth. 

“God, she’s perfect,” Eddie muses, and you’re not sure if you were meant to hear it or he was just thinking aloud. Either way, he’s right. Every little thing about her has captured your heart. 

Slowly, Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to her soft forehead. 

“And she smells so good,” Eddie adds, making you giggle. 

“I know!” you agree. “What is it about that new baby smell?”

Gently, you lift Eliza so her head is more level with yours and Eddie’s. As one, you both lean in and inhale the scent wafting off your daughter. The baby doesn’t seem to mind, but it looks like she’s trying to figure out what you’re doing by the way she keeps looking at you. And she’s not the only one.

“What are they doing?” Luke mutters to his older brother from where they stand off to the side of the hallway connecting the living room to the rest of the house. 

“Smelling her,” Ryan answers with a shrug.

“Uh, why?” Luke furrows his brows as he watches the scene on the couch in confusion.

“Seeing if she needs a diaper change? I don’t know,” Ryan says.

“But they’re smiling. No one would ever smile around one of Eliza’s dirty diapers,” Luke says, having plenty of experience to back up that claim. 

“Maybe they washed her hair,” Ryan offers with another shrug. “I don’t know, I guess she just smells good.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment before he tilts his head up to look at his brother.

“Do they ever smell you?”

“No,” Ryan says with a sigh, this conversation already exhausting him. 

“Do they smell me when I’m not looking?” Luke asks, more rhetorical this time. 

“Yes, we all do,” Ryan goads. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you about taking more baths.”

The younger Munson boy glowers at his brother and stomps past him into the living room.

“Um, does she smell?” Luke asks as he approaches the couch.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking up at his son with a grin. “She’s got that new baby smell. C’mere.”

He gestures for Luke to lean in and smell the top of Eliza’s head. The boy does and when he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“She kind of smells like cheese.”

The words make you giggle, and you lay your head on your husband’s shoulder as Eddie cradles Eliza against his chest. 

“Ryan! She smells like cheese!”

“What?” Ryan asks as he walks over. 

“Yeah, but like actual cheese. Not a Cheeto or the stuff in a can.”

Ryan frowns. “Didn’t you just eat a whole bottle of Cheez Wiz yesterday?”

“You did what?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at his youngest son.

“I said it wasn’t real cheese,” Luke says to Ryan, ignoring his father completely. “Not that it wasn’t delicious. Now smell,” Luke urges him.

Ryan gives his little brother a skeptical look, but when you give him a reassuring nod, he leans in and sniffs her hair.

“It’s like…baby powder. But…I don’t know, fresher?” Ryan isn’t sure how to describe it, but he certainly doesn’t think cheese is the word he’d use. 

“Do all babies have it?” Luke asks as he takes a seat next to you.

“Most do,” Eddie tells him. “You both did.”

“When did I lose it? Or do I still have it?” Luke tries to yank one of his curls straight so he can get a good whiff of it, but to no avail. 

“It goes away after a few weeks or months,” Eddie says.

“What causes it?” Ryan asks.

Your husband smiles and you can tell he loves the boys asking him these questions. He’d sit here and talk to them about Eliza—or anything, really—all day. 

“I don’t know, pal,” Eddie says. 

“It’s like new car smell!” Luke adds. 

“But better,” you say, poking his tummy in his most ticklish spot. He giggles and squirms around at your side. Once he’s calmed, Luke slumps against your arm and watches Eliza fuss a little in Eddie’s arms.

“Even when she loses that baby smell,” Luke says, poking you in the thigh with a small bony forefinger, “I hope she grows up to smell like you and not Daddy.”

Eddie’s jaw drops open as he turns his head towards Luke. You want to make some sort of witty remark, but you can’t think of any. Plus, you’re laughing way too hard to speak. 

[micky-44-blog]

Hazbin man reacting to their S/O calling them Daddy in front of everyon

---

Alastor (The Radio Demon)

The lively chatter in the hotel dies instantly when you let it slip—"Thanks, Daddy!"—loud and clear.

Alastor freezes mid-chuckle, the ever-present grin on his face twitching slightly before widening into something both amused and dangerous. The shadows in the room flicker, static crackling in the air.

"Oh-ho! My dear, how bold of you~" His voice warps, flickering between smooth amusement and radio distortion. "To embarrass me in front of the Morningstar himself!"

Lucifer, watching from his seat, simply raises a brow and sips his wine. "How scandalous," he hums, smirking slightly.

Meanwhile, Husk has spat out his drink, Angel Dust is choking on laughter, and Charlie is mortified.

Alastor, however, leans in close, eyes glowing. "I do hope you’re ready to own what you just started, my dear~ Because I will make sure you do."

---

Angel Dust

You didn’t even mean to say it. It just slipped out casually—"Pass me the salt, Daddy,"—while you were eating with everyone.

Silence. Dead silence. Then—

"PFFT—!!" Angel Dust immediately screeches with laughter, slamming his hands on the table. "OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD, SWEETHEART! IN FRONT OF LUCIFER?! YOU’RE KILLIN’ ME HERE!"

Lucifer merely raises an unimpressed brow. "Is that really his preferred title?"

"I MEAN—" Angel wheezes, wiping fake tears. "I ain't sayin’ no but damn, babe, at least wait till we’re alone!"

Charlie groans into her hands. Husk mutters, "I need a fuckin’ drink." And Vaggie? She’s ready to murder.

Angel, however, wraps an arm around you, still grinning like the menace he is. "Guess the cat’s outta the bag, huh? Hope you know what you just started, sugar~"

---

Lucifer Morningstar

Oh, you really did that. You just looked Lucifer Morningstar—the literal King of Hell—in the eye and casually called him Daddy in front of everyone.

Charlie looks seconds away from combusting. "OH MY GOD, WHY."

The room is still, everyone watching for Lucifer’s reaction. He places his glass down, his gaze sharp yet amused as he leans back in his chair.

"Bold of you," he muses, resting his chin on his hand. "To call me that so publicly."

The tension is thick. No one is breathing. Then—he chuckles.

"It would be unwise to start something you’re not prepared to finish, my dear." His smirk is dangerous. "Shall I take it as an invitation?"

The entire room collectively loses their minds. Charlie is screaming into a pillow, Angel is howling with laughter, and you? Well… you might have just made a deal with the devil.

Husk

It was supposed to be a normal evening—booze, bad decisions, and Husk trying to pretend he wasn’t enjoying your company as much as he actually did. But then, you had to go and say it.

"Can you pass me the bottle, Daddy?"

Dead silence.

Husk, mid-drink, chokes so hard he almost spits whiskey all over the table. His ears flatten against his head, wings twitching as his fur bristles. "WHAT the fuck did you just call me?"

Angel Dust is screaming. "OH MY GOD. BABE. YOU JUST KILLED HIM."

Charlie looks like she wants to die on the spot. Lucifer, sipping his wine, simply hums. "Interesting choice of pet names."

Husk glares at you, his face bright red beneath his fur. "Y-You can't just—fuckin’—say that in front of Lucifer of all people!" His tail flicks erratically, his whole body stiff. "Goddamn it, I need a stronger drink…"

Angel, meanwhile, is dying of laughter. "HUSKY, BABE, YOU'RE BLUSHIN'!"

"I'm NOT blushin', ya fuckin' spider!" Husk snarls, ears still betraying him. He downs another drink aggressively before grumbling, "You—You're lucky you're cute, y'know that?"

From across the room, Lucifer merely smirks. "How entertaining."

You might never live this down.

---

[heartsandstars46]

Thank you to everyone who voted! I guess I need to start doing one-day polls (why are there so few options, Tumblr? 😩😩) because this poll is now tied. But, in my mind, I closed it on 12/17, when Prequel was winning, so that is what we have this week! Hope you enjoy a continuation of this pre-bf tasm!Peter x fem reader fluff! 🩷🩷

Part 1

Word count: 1k

Be Nice to Spiders part 2

You always had a hard time sleeping when you were sick—it was impossible to get comfortable, hard to breathe… and that was without your cute office crush sitting inches away! So tonight was a lost cause. But when you woke up in the 2 o’clock hour, the desk chair was empty and you were alone. Okay, so he had left. Well, you had told him to. You hadn’t wanted him to waste his whole night here anyway.

So why did you feel so sad?

As you lay awake, every muscle and joint in your body aching, you began to hear a faint noise coming from the living room. Was that… coughing?

You crept out of your bedroom wearing a blanket like a superhero cape and found Peter sitting on the couch trying really hard to cough silently.

“Oh god, sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“I can see that. Are you okay? Hey, are you shivering?”

He obviously was, even though he didn’t answer, so you took off the blanket and wrapped it around him.

“No, no,” he motioned for you to sit down next to him and then he draped the blanket back over your shoulders.

“Can’t we share?” You asked with a smile. “We’re already sharing germs, apparently. I’m sorry I got you sick.”

Peter shook his head. “No, it’s not you, it’s that Daily Bugle office. It’s like a Petri dish. Did you get any sleep? You tossed and turned a lot.”

You slid closer so the blanket could drape over both of you. “Eh, some.”

Peter smiled.

“What?”

“Even tossing and turning, you held on to my hand for a long time. It was pretty impressive.”

The heat of your fever was overtaken by the heat of embarrassment, and you wished you were still high on cold medicine. “I am so sorry you were trapped in there with me.”

“Who said I was trapped? I got some sleep too… until I started going downhill.”

“Sorry,” you mouthed, cringing.

“It’s okay, really—but would you mind if I laid down here? It’s just taking a lot of energy to sit up at the moment.”

“Oh my gosh, yes, please, lay down!” You jumped up so fast, your head throbbed. “Ah!”

“Boy, we’re a sad pair,” he mused, stretching out on the couch.

“Seriously. I'm sure this is your normal Friday night!” You said as you tucked the blanket around him and slid one of the throw pillows behind his head. 

He smiled, but he wouldn’t quite look at you. Oh lord, was did that mean?

“Thank you. But you’re sick too. You should lie down. Here.” He scooted over, making room for you on the couch. “I mean, we’re both sick already, right?”

You giggled and nervously slid in next to him.

Peter repositioned the pillow and blanket so you were both comfy. The left side of your body was pressed into his right side, and though it was hard to focus on anything else, you managed to ask, “Do you want me to read to you too?”

“Yeah, you know, somebody fell asleep during Be Nice to Spiders—“

“How rude!”

“I know, and I never got to hear how it ended. Helen really seemed to be doing a great job at the zoo.”

It was such an adorable thing to say, you couldn’t help but smile. “This is why you’ve gotta be nice to spiders, man. They’ll look out for you.”

“Yes, they will.” And then he started coughing again, poor thing.

“Peter, I am so sorry.”

When he could talk again, he said, “Don’t be. Dizziness, coughing, and feeling like death aside, I'm pretty lucky.”

“Why's that?” You asked laughing.

“Well, I get to spend the night with you.“

You had expected some witty barb, so you hoped your jaw hadn’t visibly dropped. Your face got so hot it might as well have been on fire.

Peter saw the look on your face and the rambling began.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean ‘spend the night together’ like that or anything. That is not my intention or expectation or anything. I just said it because we seem to be… literally… spending the night together.”

“Peter,” you said softly, touching his arm. “Peter, it’s okay. I knew what you meant, I guess I just didn’t expect to hear it… or, really, that you would be happy about being stuck here all night with me, err, with a sick person. While also sick."

“I’m not stuck here. Honestly. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

Your stomach fluttered. “Same. You know, when I woke up and thought you’d left, I….” Oh dear, how earnest were you willing to let yourself be?

“You…?”

“I was glad to hear you coughing, because it meant you were still here. I was really glad you were still here, okay?"

“Huh.” Peter looked like he could breathe again. He grinned at you. “Well, how about that? Hope you still feel that way after I spend all night coughing in your ear!"

It all happened so fast. Before you fully knew what you were doing (so as to stop yourself), you kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Ha.” You said sheepishly. “Hope that’s okay. Not that I wouldn’t want to, like, actually kiss you for real, but I think we should be sure we’re not going to give each other mono first.”

“Uh, yeah, no complaints here,” he chuckled. Then you felt a soft kiss on your cheek. Immediately, a smile spread across your face. “Oh and hey, forget reading, I want to make a different request.”

You laughed. “Okay…?”

“I think it would be nice to hold someone’s hand. I mean, I heard a rumor….”

You felt yourself smiling again. “I heard that rumor too. And I think I can help you out.” You slid your hand into his under the blanket. He gave it the sweetest little squeeze, then started coughing again.

“Oh boy, here we go,” he wheezed.

“Guess it’s good that we ended up keeping an eye on each other, huh?”

[lixy-u]

Daily dose of Starker #5

What about an alternative universe where SIM!Tony and Tony share the same body like two souls trapped in a jar together ? SIM!Tony knew about Tony but Tony doesn’t know his other persona, they fell for the same certain spider but one wanted to kill him while the other wanted to beg for his love.

SIM!Tony x Muse!Peter x Tony Stark

This is post NWH where Tony is alive but half of his soul is damaged which leads to SIM!Tony (that defeated by Spider Man) got pulled from another universe to fill the gap in Tony’s soul.

Another note is OG avengers not dead in this fic.

____

Sometimes there was a hole in Tony’ memories but he pretended it was fine until he exhausted himself trying to catch up with Rhodey’ unknown discussion, Pepper’s concerns about the tabloids saying he's coming back to his old self, and Happy’s distant face.

It suffocated him so much.

Sometimes Tony found himself dozing mid day, it felt weird seeing his body move on his own, it was like watching a movie in a third person view where he was trapped between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Other times Tony just woke up in an alley where he definitely didn't know before, his body ached, lips busted, his mind all messed up and when his body went down from the adrenaline, he felt it instantly, the fatigue and the dizziness washed over him waves by waves. He almost collapsed on the ground seizing.

It was strange, to the point Tony felt like he's becoming insane.

From FRIDAY called him Superior to the new version of his arc reactor to a new substance called Extremis that heavily violated the ethical principles.

But one thing that stood out the most is…the boy.

The first time Tony saw him was not - person to person, but via a painting that hung on his bedroom (he didn't remember when he placed it there). He admitted it was a nice painting, the boy(again he didn't even know whether that person is a boy or not but somehow his mind said they're a boy) no older than 20, he stood there naked with this back facing the audience, white cloth draped over his lower body half hiding his smooth legs and covered up the hidden forbidden fruit, but what caught Tony's eyes the most was the huge spider tattoo on his back.

It was mesmerizing, something deep in his guts arose when he saw them.

From that moment on, everywhere he went, he saw the boy and everytime the spider tattoo made his brain go haywire.

In his labs, in his office, on his bed.

The draft for a spider emblemed suit ? A hand drawn sketch of the boy and more complicated equations for some substance. (That's weird, because he swears he never seen this before and further what's a sticky substance is going to benefit him)

One time, he even saw the boy laid beside him when he woke up in the middle of the night due to unrecognizable nightmares. The boy still got his back facing him, the moonlight peeks over his window draped over the figure, he can see the pretty and delicate shoulder blades, the spine, the bitable nape and-and the curls, my god the curls. He wanted to touch them but he's afraid the boy will disappear.

He didn't know the boy but somehow he can taste him. Yes taste, he felt it in his tongue, the softest on his lips, the sweetness of skin, the copper-like fluid on his palate.

Tony felt hunger. Like he was poisoned.

It finally gets to the point Tony couldn't ignore it no more, these strange things have been going on.

There were numerous reports about a new villain in town, the threat was evaluated to be between normal to Avenger level threat which is pretty concerning considering last time Avenger level threat was Thanos - Tony hates him.

The new villain was suspected to be hell of a genius (Tony didn't want to admit the guy is smart but he earned himself some credits) The villain possessed some kind of super soldier serum but not the same as Bucky or Steve, he also possessed Iron Man copy cat of armor with blue and white - that mother fucker, Tony’s gonna sue the fuck out of him.

Strange enough, the more he got reports from the new villain the more gaping holes in his memories became larger over time. Some days he… even forgot the mission. And the villain got away just in time before the Avengers could do anything like the guy knew what's they're gonna do.

Tony was not sure whether or not he's dreaming, he saw Cap throw his shield to the villain and he missed. God, Caps getting old, Clint is never going to shut up about his ‘ill never miss’ aim assist. In the corner of his eyes he saw Black Widow shouting something but it was completely inaudible, he saw James Buchanan Barnes - yeah the guy he had a hard time to get to an okay terms with, looked at him with sadness in his eyes and Bruce - his science bros, the one who he vented about the stupid villain technology, desperate synthesize something in the labs despite currently in fight with the villain which was not his usual move at all.

Bang !

That's fucking hurts.

Shit. He said that out loud ?

What the actual fuck ?! He saw Clint was aiming at the villain-?! Wait, this is not his suit. This cool and slippery feeling is not his suit at all, this is not how his nanites should be moving- THIS IS NOT NANITES. NOT HIS.

The suit engulfing his body suddenly moved on its own. It flew through NYC, the buildings, the people and its scenery flashed through his mind but he's too caught up with his mind.

WHERE IS SPIDEY ?

He flew across the question written on the wall of a random ass sandwich place.

Spidey ? As in Spider-Man ?

Who's Spider-Man ?

Who ?

Who ?

Who ?

He didn't realize the suit had stopped long ago until his feet touched the floor of his Tower.

He walked forward as if he was hypnotized.

In front of him was the boy…naked in a tube surrounded by water ? No the consistency is too thick to be water and the color ain't right too. Formalin.

A corpse.

He's dead ?

Tony felt like vomiting. The boy was preserved like some kind of exhibits animal.

“Welcome back, Superior”

“I'm back FRI”

His voice got out as he was pushed back.

What ?

“You must be surprised, Tony Stark. I guess everyone will when they see this”

He felt his body move towards a mirror. He still looked the same, no way.

Deadly blue eyes, a maniac grin splattered on his fucking face.

Not Tony, not Tony, not Tony-!

“No, no I am TONY STARK”

“It was kinda a shame that the only person who recognizes the real you first is dead huh ? Everyone else became suspicious after I intentionally revealed my true self, a little play here and there is enough to fool them all. Hell they even like me, everyone is grateful for a more powerful Tony. Everyone but that pretty boy, he got suspicious before I could even say hello. It was really a shame, he was so sweet looking at me with earnest love in his eyes, only to be crushed when he saw me.”

“That spider in every universe, could never stop causing me trouble. That pretty boy with a god sent ass always gets in my way, it was funny seeing him desperate on his knees trying to rationalize me in order to bring you back. He was so cute…”

His body moved towards the tube this time.

No,no,no.

“That I couldn't help but kill him”

“My muse … all pretty for me, for us.”

“Isn't that what you also want ? Stark ? For him to be forever in our grasp.”

____

I really like SIM!Tony, there's too much I want to write about this guy. He's a red flag but I'm blind.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Floor to ceiling windows

Miguel O’Hara x male reader

Smut drabble

I blame tiktok for this one. 

Scent kink and sweat in this, so if that isn’t your cup of tea, oh well. I felt I probably should start naming my drabbles, so I named this one, enjoy.

The sun shined brightly in through the tall windows into Miguels apartment, the type of apartment you see in movies or imagine when someone says millionaire. With windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, and white furniture so expensive you wouldn’t even dare sit down in fear of staining them with your presence. All looked too pristine, too expensive, like something right out of a magazine someone from your tax bracket would never be able to afford.

Well, almost everything. It would all have looked too well, if not for the large man draped across it, arm tucked behind his head and legs spread in what you’d probably fall the most foul menspread you had ever laid your eyes on. Miguel was wearing a sorry excuse of fabric he claimed was a tanktop, barely covering anything as it hung from loose straps, leaving the armhole going almost all the way down to his wasit. The tiny shorts he wore wasn’t much help either, ending barely a quarter of the way down his massive thighs, the poor fabric stretching to its full capability to try and contain the muscle, one way or another.

Normally you would be ribbing on him for his posture, how he looked like the image that most of those alpha male podcasters tried to shine but always failed at doing. But your mouth was quite preoccupied at the moment, as Miguel’s free hand was buried in your hair and pulling you closer to his exposed armpit. The flat of your tongue ran from the bottom of the crevice to the top, brushing over the coarse hairs of his bodyhair as the salty taste of his sweat covered your tastebuds.

It was hard to pinpoint how you’d found yourself in this position, half kneeling on the couch as you licked and sucked the salty drops of sweat off Miguel’s sweaty body, his musk filling your very senses, so strong that it almost left your eyes rolling. Maybe it was when you had stepped in through your own portal, thanks to your watch since you were part of the whole spider team, and the first thing you had seen was Miguels tan body shiny with sweat. Or maybe it was how his hair seemed less styled than usual, falling in natural waves across his forehead, some of it sticking against his skin thanks to his sweat, all which could be blamed on the harsh sun that shined in through the windows.

But one thing led to another, and here you were, your own spidersuit tucked off your torso and tied around your waist like one would a jacket. Gruff Spanish left his lips as the hand in your hair tightened and pulled your head this and that way, leading your tongue in whatever direction Miguel wanted it to be. As your thoughts blurred, you could focus on nothing but inhaling his strong musky scent and licking his skin clean of salty sweat.

At one point he had moved you, using his large height and inhumane strength to pull you onto his other side, so that you could lather his other pit with the same worshipping treatment, his grumbled praise constant as you kept up your task. Only after licking his torso clean did you find yourself on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with a spit and sweat slick face, your hair mused and your pupils blown.

A moan left you as his hand buried itself in your hair once more, his half smirk being the last thing you saw before your eyes rolled back and fell shut, as his grip pulled you in close, burying your face in the crevice between his thigh and his crotch. Maybe barging into his home uninvited hadn’t been the worst idea you’d ever had, you surely didn’t think so, and Miguel didn’t seem to mind much either.

[pigeonpeach]

Be my muse

Chiori x fem oni reader

Summary: Chiori is trying to court her big oni friend but they’re too insecure to realize it.

A/n: I’ll be doing more fem oni x character series simply because its fun. But if there’s a certain character you’d like then let me know

“Hmm… maybe this blue would match your horns better.” Chiori, the renowned stylist in Inazuma had you stood on a pedestal standing straight as she threw at you a variety of kimonos and yukatas to wear. As a blue oni you weren’t accustomed to human society to well. Fashion isn’t really a big deal to Oni kind.. like at all… in fact most oni’s only wear thick and concealing garments in the winter. Most walk around with their chests exposed. As a blue oni you were also used to the scrutiny that you faced. Being considered a monster, a demon. All sorts of names.

Yet when you ran into Chiori one day while you were collecting lavender melons she seemed not to even consider you any different to herself. Even if you did tower over her, she showed zero fear. You couldn’t help but admire her as she would visit your hut in the wilderness on Narukami Island frequently. She was curious about your culture and your family but also your style. Turns out she HATED your pratical and unfashionable wardrobe and sought to make something better. According to her it is a crime that you decorate yourself with such hideous clothes. You foolishly challenged her to make something better than.

That’s thing about Chiori, she loves a challenge. Chiori loves to go outside the normal kimono patterns and flowing fabrics. She loves to experiment and draw inspiration from all over teyvat. So when you challenged her to make a outfit suited both for the life of a mercenary and a oni that still fits her stands of beautiful she saw a golden opportunity. You didn’t even have to pay a cent, but you did become her mannequin for the next few months.

“Look, Chiori I didn’t think you would take that joke so seriously.” You said as she placed yet another mock up on you. “I’m worried… shouldn’t you be making prettier dresses for your store?”

“You know its not like I’m wasting time. I’m still balancing my normal workload. Infact this is good because the more variety I can have the more attention I’ll bring.” She responds, not even looking up as she sews a piece to the slev

“I don’t think people look at mercenaries and wonder where they got their clothes.”

“They would if more mercenaries didn’t dress so hideously.” She remarks.

“Well..-“

“Don’t give me that practicality argument I’ve hear it all before. I’ve offered you a job as my assistant to which is significantly less dangerous.”

“My job isn’t that dangerous. I can handle the treasure hoarders and hilichurls with ease.”

“I don’t want you too though.” She says, you sense something different with her tone as she stitches a hole she spotted shut. Her hands moving the string as a spider weaves its web. It appears you’re too entangled in her strings to leave so easily now.

“I-I appreciate that.” You say. “But being your assistant would be difficult. I can’t travel with you..” you frown as you remember how she mentioned how she wanted to leave inazuma. You cannot however, being a Oni you were far removed from society especially In it’s paperwork. You have no travel papers or birth certificate because you born in a clan of Onis who saw no reason for such documents, your birth wasn’t officially registered with the Inazuma government as many others were. Which means you can’t legally travel outside of Inazuma. That’s what the lady in Ritou said at least.

“I’d stay if you wanted me too.” She said, her hands stopped their work as she looked up at you with a look that made you melt. “You’re beautiful you know, beyond your pretty face and soft hair… you’re far from what they say about you. You’re not a brute, you’re not even cruel, you have the biggest heart I’ve seen.” You can’t help but blush. She’s rarely as sweet as she is now.

“I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve to see the world, and I don’t want you to be stuck here.”

“If you could… would you go with me?” She asks. You pause. Leaving Inazuma would be a privilege. You only heard tales of the other nations and what it was like. You only saw a few trinkets from the other nations. What would it be like to feel the wind in Mondstadt, or to go swimming in Fontaine, supposedly you could breathe underwater. You’ve heard endless praise of the dishes in Liyue from the merchants you helped to escort. You even got to try one and you found they weren’t exaggerating. Perhaps you just never allowed yourself to dream of actually going there because you doubted that would ever be real.

“I would love to.” You say. “To explore the world with you would be a pleasure.”

Silence falls between you as you tense up. Did that freak her out? You weren’t sure if she was into you or not. Oni customs are quite different. You had read about human customs sure but you still couldn’t tell. She pulls away gesturing for you to spin around. You do.

“That Lady in Ritou.. she’s the one who told you that you couldn’t leave right?” She asked. You felt concerned, It wasn’t unlike Chiori to be a bit vindictive if she felt upset at someone.

“Yes, what did you do to her?”

“Well I had a word with her, and I found out she was full of it. You can easily file for a birth certificate as long as your parents come with you to testify its correct. It just costs a bit of mora.” She says going back to sewing.

“Yes I’m aware of that too. Its why I started my Mercenary career.”

“I could pay for it… save your money for the ticket out of here. Those government officals love to overcharge. Someone like you seems easy to fool. You’re too kind to them.”

“To be fair I have to be. If I’m even slightly mean or angry they act like I’m going on a rampage. My behaviors don’t just affect how they perceive me, but my entire species. I have to be calm otherwise they won’t even give me a chance.” You lament.

“I’ll be mean then, you know I have a bite to me. They can’t say anything if its me pushing on your behalf.” She says with a mischievous smile.

“But it could ruin your reputation.” You say

“With who? I could care less what they think of me. Those kind of people aren’t worth a cent of my time anyways.” She say’s confidently. “People don’t ask. Fashion designer to be their friend they ask a fashion designer to make them look good infront of their friends.” You smile as she again shuts down your worries about her. You’re not used to this. You’re used to fighting and arguing just to prove you have heart. You’re used to beans being tossed and always having to give a second chance when they realize they were wrong. You try to be understanding, you try to be otherwise you’ll be seen as unreasonable. But Chiori isn’t like that. She once kicked out a customer because they screamed at you throwing beans when you were just bringing her textiles in. She yelled at how disrespectful they were to her staff and that they wouldn’t ever be welcomed in her shop.

“Hey. Stop overthinking.” She smacked your face guiding you to look down. In your thoughts she moved to your front to start tying your custom obi.

“I’m not overthinking this time actually… i was just thinking about something.”

“If anyone in the outside world is threatened by you I’ll correct their assumptions. You really need to let me help you here.”

“Actually… i was just thinking about you…” you say, her eyes widen slightly, a rare sight as her confident frown is replaced with confusion. “You… thank you Chiori… I-I’m just..not used to someone like yourself…” you smile as she shakes her head briefly before regaining her composure.

“Its really not that big of a deal. Now, tell me.. did I surpass your expectations?” She says moving out of the way so you can see your new outfit in the mirror. You smile, not because its the most beautiful you’ve ever felt for a woman your size, but because she looks at you like you are one. Your confidence is boosted by the clear pride she exhibits in it.

“Even better than I could’ve imagined.” You say. She raises her head in pride.

“Well good, I can get started on the others now.”

“Wait what?”

“Well, you don’t expect to travel teyvat with only one fancy garment do you?”

[szynkaaa]

Black Myth Wukong Masterlist

Black Myth Wukong tag

Black Myth: Wukong Tarot Projec ✦ Major Arcana ✦ 00. The Fool ✦ 01. The Magician ✦ 02. The High Priestess ✦ 03. The Empress ✦ 04. The Emperor ✦ 08. Strength ✦ 11. Justice ✦ 12. The Hanged Man ✦ 13. Death ✦ 15. The Devil ✦ 17. The Star ✦ 21. The World

Black Myth Rambling ✦ lore, musing, rambling and screenshots about the game

✦ BMW Journal Entries: What happened to the FFM monkeys after SWK died ✦ BMW Journal Entries: Sun Wukong’s Golden Armor Pieces ✦ Bull King, Princess Rakshasi and Red Boy: A Tragedy ✦ Who is the Old Monkey ✦ The (tragic) Love Stories in BMW ✦ How tall is the Destined One / Sun Wukong in BMW? UPDATED ✦ Height difference PingPing vs the Destined One ✦ Not BMW but SWK is great with kids in this comic ✦ Headcanon that DO/SWK drew all the achievement icon ✦ The one armor that shows a bit of his chest fur (we have been robbed) ✦ DO/SWK has a chipped left tooth (and so does the Stone Monkey transformation) ✦ RIP Old Monk Set love the peek at the fur on his back ✦ DO/SWK has one non-circular pupil and also two moles on his neck ✦ Normal Ending credit song + what happens to the DO in the normal ending ✦ 4th Spider very likely married to the previous Destined One (reddit comment) ✦ Also this reddit comment about the 4th spider sister ✦ Monkey wearing shoes ✦ Destined One looking terrified and running away (the only time he is emoting in the game) ✦ The Shape of Monkeys ✦ Scrapped multiverse concept ✦ Chapter 5 animation character sheet ✦ Hall of Yuanchen mentioned in Yin Tiger's Journal Entry, What is That ✦ What dog breed is Xu Dog ✦ Spider sisters clothing reference ✦ unused Sun Wukong doll game asset ✦ All achievement art: 01-30; 31-60,

Official Black Myth Wukong Announcements:

✦ Black Myth Wukong Official Mooncake ✦ Black Myth Wukong: Bilibili New Years Eve Gala Concert ✦ Chow Tai Fook Official Jewellry Collab ✦ Official WeChat Stickers ✦ Official Journal Physical Release in China ✦ Black Myth Taobao Shop ✦ Merch Announcement Video ✦ New merch added to the taobao store ✦ Artists That Worked on the Game (Portfolio Link) ✦ Vinyl Record Box Set unboxing ✦ Official Taobao Shop Update

Black Myth: Wukong Screenshot Collection

Shen Monkey ✦ Xu Dog ✦ Black Wind Mountain Shrine ✦ Yellow Wind Ridge Shrine ✦ New West Shrine ✦ "Listen Not" Violet Spider Frame by Frame ✦ "Listen Not" Zhu Bajie Frame by Frame ✦ Peach Tree at the Throne ✦ All Chapter Tapestry Art in HD

My personal AU featuring an Original Character

Art:

My Original Character, Oz ✦ Starfruit (Oz x Destined One/Sun Wukong)

Writing:

Former Heroes Who Quit Too Late ✦ Destined One x Original Character fanfiction Not My Circus, But Unfortunately That Is My Monkey ✦ the Destined One/Sun Wukong x Original Character one-shot collections Monkey See, Monkey Do ✦ Destined One x Original Character Modern!AU

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Ominis x MC

Part 15

Summary - Ominis has become sick of Sebastian’s possession of the dorm room and has temporarily moved into the Undercroft. Finally…some privacy…

Again feel free to swap Evelyn with MC or Y/N

Warnings - 🌶️ Fingering, Female masturbation, Mild Choking, Biting, Praise Kink (If you squint) the word gusset (I know some people hate it) all characters aged up 18+

Sorry if this seems really awkward. I personally hate smut that is written just a bit too smoothly. If I’m writing two people’s first time…it’s going to be awkward and slow. Sorry if that’s not what you’re into. Fair play to people who wrote smut I am deffo a fluff gal. Sorry if this is bad. No one look at me!!!

Word Count - 6173

-

“Thought I’d find you here”

Ominis raised his head as though it weighed a tonne when he heard Evelyn walk into the Undercroft.

As normal when Ominis occupied the space, a faint piano could be heard from somewhere within the cluttered room. The smell of tea filled the cavernous space and the singular large chair he favoured had been pulled into a more central position, as though he were looking over the Triptych like a window.

Obviously he wasn’t.

But none of that really registered with Evelyn.

What concerned her currently was the way he flinched when she entered. Like she’d startled him.

“Hmmm, were you looking for me?” He asked lazily pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Oh…only all my life” she whispered scared to shatter the peaceful ambiance he had created.

He exhaled a laugh as she approached him her hands finding his shoulders and kneading softly into the harsh panels of his shoulder blades.

It had been a few weeks since the last trial and Sebastians attempts to try and solve the Mystery of the spider egg had been fruitless. It had gotten to be a bit too much, the boys dorm now covered in silk and arachnids from his initial attempts to solve its puzzle…Arachnids or Acromantulas, they’re weren’t entirely sure.

But all Sebastian was left with was an empty room full of spiders and an exasperated friend sick of pulling webbing from his hair.

Each night he attempted to resolve it but so far to no avail. And finally, after weeks of arachnid related torture, Sebastian finally asked everyone for help.

Ominis agreed, of course, on the condition that he would not be returning to the dorms until the trail was done. And only after every last eight legged demon had been purged from the halls.

So for now he resided in the Undercroft, a makeshift bed tucked under the Triptych, all blankets and pillows and no mattress.

Not that it was unusual for Ominis to sleep soundly in uncomfortable locations.

“Did I startle you? That’s very unlike you” Evelyn mused, softly digging into his shoulders. A long exhausted moan left his lips and his eyes closed slowly as she did.

“Sorry I wasn’t paying attention…I haven’t been sleeping” Evelyn opened her mouth to fuss, to ask the inevitable string of questions she usually did upon hearing that. He waved her off dismissively “Don’t worry not nightmares…been trying to figure out the next trial for Sebastian”

“I see…” her hands reached a standstill at the apex of his shoulders and as she did, he reached up, soothingly, brushing across her knuckles until a familiar dull poking, pricked his fingertips.

He smiled wistfully.

”You’re wearing my ring” he said mutedly

“Of course I am…It’s beautiful”

“You don’t have to…” he adds, though in a much quieter voice; not quite a whisper, but close.

“I know I don’t have to…but you gave it to me. It means something” she replied in kind, her tone matching his. Filled with love and adoration.

He smiles softly, taking her wrist between his fingers and pulling her around to his front. He rested his forehead against her stomach and sighed.

It was as though he was pulling her in for strength, using her warmth and affection to fuel him. And for what it was worth, it worked. He pulled away moments later, a charming albeit lopsided smile on his face. He rose from his chair, taking her hand effortlessly and looped his arm around her waist.

“Dance with me…” he demanded in a soft tone

“Is that how you ask?” He had already spun her around slowly, bringing her back to his chest as she said this. The smile on her face oozed into her words making her argument…completely moot.

“Oh…I apologise profusely” he said sounding not the least bit sorry. He took one long step backwards, heels clicking together as he bowed deeply. Somehow, his eyes never left hers…

“Please…” the word was lithe as it slithered from his lips and into her ears, sending a shiver down her spine. He chuckled before continuing; “May I have this dance?”

“Hmm…” she took a step forward as he rose back to his towering height. “Do I have a choice?”

“I’m afraid not, dear”

Despite his words, and despite the distinct almost predatory look in his eyes…he extended a hand to her.

The slight twitch of his fingers commanded her attention, and though she would never deny him, there was a pull towards him. Like destiny…or fate.

If one believes in such things.

She took his hand, though her fingers glided along his palm, wrist and forearm up to his shoulder as she tucked herself into him. She wanted to tell him to wipe the smirk of his face, but something about the curl of his lip…the smallest display of teeth as his smirk grew wider…

He looked…

…happy.

The eagerness at which he grabbed her waist was queue enough for Evelyn. She took his other hand gently in hers whilst his arm pulled impossibly closer. It had hooked itself just below her ribs and with his domineering height, pulled her almost off the floor entirely. She giggled softly, her toes the only thing keeping her grounded as their chests met.

Slowly, and with a more intimate nature than he showed her in the Common Room, he lead her across the desolate chamber.

Every now and then, he would stop to kiss her hand. Each time he paused, the kiss became less and less chivalrous.

First it was her hand, then her cheek, then his head stooped low so they could dance cheek to cheek.

And suddenly, he was nuzzling her neck, his nose drawing long arduous lines across her jaw.

Ominis took in a deep breath; her scent fuelling him further and made his eyes go glassy.

He strode forward, dipping her low causing her head to tilt back as he held her horizontal to the floor.

His hand splayed supportively across the small of her back, thumb stroking across her waist. His warm breath ghosted across her neck.

The sharp inhale from her lips snapped him out of his reverie. He gently shook his head and pulled her back to her feet, his hands sturdy as they held onto her waist just a touch too tightly.

His eyes remained fixed on her and unlike the usual calm pools she’d gaze lovingly into…

Two darkening wells stared back at her.

”How is it you never seem to fumble for my hands? You always seem to know exactly where I am….no matter what” she shifted uncomfortably under his direct eye contact.

She did want to know…it was a question she had on her mind for the longest time. But right now she just needed to move his gaze.

It wasn’t like he made her uncomfortable. It was the way he looked at her.

As she swayed, so did he.

As she leaned in closer, so did he.

It was one of an embarrassingly long list of things he did that caused her stomach to twist and turn.

And it was like he knew that too.

The look of calm and content happiness faded with the blink of an eye, replaced with this twinkle she rarely saw in Ominis.

She saw it almost daily in Garreth and Sebastian…but Ominis?

His devious nature wound the knot forming, tighter.

What is he concocting?

“Honestly?…” He started “…I’m not sure. Best I can come up with is my magic advances my sense of Proprioception, past what a normal person has”

“Pre…prop…what?” Evelyn tilted her head and he mimicked her, almost like he was proving a point.

“Proprioception…” he chuckled and the twinkle in his eye flared once more. “…let me show you”

He stepped away from her, his long fingers reaching up to undo the knot of his tie.

The last thing she saw before he wrapped the soft, silken material around her eyes was his wide, devilish smirk.

“Can you see?” He asked, amusement heavy in his voice.

“Not a great deal…” she muttered and lifted the tie slightly to peer at him. He paced back and forth in front of her before he disappeared just off to her right and behind her.

“No cheating…” Ominis scolded softly, plucking her wrist away from her body and keeping it there, letting the silken blindfold fall back to place.

“Do you see how you know where your arm is despite not seeing it?” He twirled her around as he had in the dance before and she gasped.

This is what he experienced on a daily basis and she can’t handle it for less than a minute.

It drove her insane.

She trusted him implicitly but the idea of him being in completely control of her in that moment…

…her stomach suddenly felt hollow and her lungs empty.

“That’s Proprioception, the sense of knowing where your body is in relation to itself” he let her arm fall back down to her side but not before kissing this inside of her wrist. She gasped again listening intently to the click of his heel against the stone as he started to circle her.

”Mine is just a little stronger. It extends beyond myself…things around me. So I can see you in front of me and so long as you don’t move…” he was silent for a beat, her breath catching when his voice was suddenly right next to her ear “…too quickly…I know where you are. What you’re doing…”

His words felt heavy as though they carried more meaning than a simple explanation of his abilities.

“I can focus it too like duelling. It’s much stronger if I have my wand” he continued casually, like the breathe upon her neck and his words weren’t setting her stomach ablaze.

He had to know.

He knew everything else

“I…see” she muttered shakily, her hands twitching to remove the blindfold. Once again, he caught her fingers, entwining them with his own, his chest flush with her back. He held their combined hands against her stomach whilst he pulled her hair from her shoulder. His finger danced across her skin as he did so.

She took in a sharp intake of air through her mouth, her lips seemed constantly parted as though she anticipated him kissing her.

Maybe it was wishful thinking.

He remained stationed behind her, his hand falling to her waist, feeling the steadily increasing rise and fall of her breathing against her ribs. His breath was warm against her neck and she could feel his lips against her ear as he breathed.

But…Ominis was a gentleman. And so released her, rather abruptly, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know…” she whispered, a devious plan forming as she pulled the tie from her eyes.

He was showing marvellous levels of restraint.

Restraint she no longer had

Because of him…

“…‘Mystery Man’ still hasn’t asked me to the ball”

“Oh I know…” he grumbled, his voice low and strained.

“It’s starting to feel a little like no one wants to go with me” she sighed overly dramatically and took a step closer to him. His eyes went wide when he felt her getting nearer and nearer…until he could feel the heat of her chest against his.

He chuckled heavily.

“I don’t know. There was that Durmstrang…” he brushed some hair behind her ear, resisting every urge to pull at the strands and pull the noises he’d heard too few times. “…I think he learnt his lesson though. And there’s Prewett, but I think he knows better. It seems at least there’s some semblance of a brain between those ears”

Ominis laughed…darkly. It caused vibrations to emanate through both of their chests and he pulled away to ‘gaze’ down at her.

“I wonder why no one has asked me?” She pondered putting on the most saccharin, overly innocent tone.

“Probably because…” he growled out pushing forward slightly so their noses almost touched. He took in a calm breath “…they know you’re mine…”

“Have you staked your claim on me?” She whispered back, lips dangerously close to his to the point they brushed delicately against the full flesh of his bottom lip. “Because I don’t remember you asking…”

“I don’t need to ask…no one will take what is mine” his voice like music dancing it’s way across her skin but it sounded almost painful. The restraint he currently showed was…waning. “…I may no longer be a part of that family but…Gaunts are known for being quite possessive” His fingers brushed up her arms to cup her face, his fingers trembling against her cheek.

“Yes…of artifacts and trinkets…not really people”

“I’ve just found a different kind of treasure I wish to hoard away for myself”

“Stop…” she said sternly but playfully “Flattery will get you no where”

“Won’t it? Then why is that hummingbird of a heart of yours rattling agaisnt its cage” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

“Ominis…”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me…”

“I…I can’t…” he groaned his hands dropping to her waist, fingernails digging into flesh there as though he was physically keeping himself back

“You need to get off me before I do something…” his voice trailed off, low and husky. And filled with an emotion she’d not heard from him much before. He sounded…embarrassed

“What if I want you to do something?” She urged trying to sound level headed and calm, though she sounded whiney and needy as the words came from her lips.

His head dropped to her shoulder, as it often did when he sought comfort. His lips remained a breath away from her neck, trembling at the temptation to just sink his teeth in.

But that was selfish.

And that’s what he wanted.

He wanted to make her happy. Make her feel loved. Make her feel…

“I don’t know what I’m doing…” he confessed against her skin.

“Nor do I…” she whispered back, her hand reaching up to trace tiny intricate patterns across his back. She hoped they were talking about the same thing, she hoped he wanted this to.

She hoped she wasn’t making a fool of herself…

“It’s not that simple” he sighed and rested his full weight against her shoulder. “You can see. You’ll know when you’re…doing something I like. And there’s only so much books can teach someone with my…disadvantage” his face buried further into to her neck and hair. Like he was trying to hide away.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating, how much it pains me, to have you within inches of me and all I can do…is this?”

This was strange.

Normally he was quite confident with his abilities. Not moments ago he showed off how he saw the world around him with almost arrogant levels of confidence. Most of the time she forgot he was even blind, with how capable and independent he was.

But maybe this all felt a bit much. A bit too real.

Then suddenly she felt guilty for trying to coax him further.

“We don’t have to go any further than y-“ she started before his head snapped back up to look down at her, shaking his head over and over.

“No no no no no that’s not what I’m…I definitely do. If you do that is. I’m just…apprehensive” he tripped and stumbled over his words, trying to get her to understand his unique predicament.

Then her mind spiralled to how she had helped him in the past, how she’d taught him Herbology and Potions techniques, shown him the texture of materials, guided his hand when he needed it.

And her heart sank as an idea formed in her mind.

“Ominis, Do you want to try…being intimate…with me?” She asked shakily, her hands snaking up his arm to cup his cheeks, imploring that he listen to her. Thank Merlin he was blind, or perhaps her cheeks may have blinded him with how hot they were glowing.

“Desperately…” A dry, humourless laugh left him “…it’s practically all I have thought about since the First Trail…but”

“But…” she interrupted “…I have an idea”

She took a step away from him, his head quirked curiously to the right as he sought her out. It wouldn’t take him long, her fingers gently took his and she pulled him towards the armchair he normally resided in.

“Do you remember that Divination assignment? The palm reading?” She asked gently taking his hand and absentmindedly tracing over the lines on his hand. As she did he muttered softly to himself…

“Heart Line…Life Line…Fate line…”

He recited with perfect accuracy, though that lesson was weeks ago.

Then everything clicked and his cheeks burned hotter than he’d ever felt. Or that she’d ever seen.

“Are you…suggesting you can…show me how to…” Ominis’ words were careful and calculated. He’d come this far, he wasn’t ruining everything on a simple misunderstanding.

“It’s what other couples do…” She reasoned, suddenly feeling dirty or sordid for even thinking such a thing “…Only their method is trail and error and ours would just be a little more-”

“…Hands on” he smirked.

Bastard…how is he always so…so…

“Ugh…” Evelyn groans pulling her hand away from his palm and covering her face. “…It’s all just so unromantic now I think about it” she muffled from the sanctuary behind her hands.

“Oh don’t worry…” his long fingers looped around her wrists pulling them away and to her side. He took a step closer to her, his head bowed low to meet her gaze if she wished “…I have romance covered. That’s not what I’m worried about. I just need to know you’re okay with this”

As he spoke, his thumb drew tiny circles across her palm. It was almost as though they were dancing again.

“I am…” she breathed.

The smile he then wore was unlike any she had seen before. It had a softness to it initially. Like he was pleased she trusted him and she couldn’t help but mirror it. But then the longer they stood there, swaying slightly, the harder it grew. An edge to lips she hadn’t even seen when he’d pushed her against his bed.

And whereas last time there was a nervous, sickly feeling in her gut, now there was just…need.

Want.

He spun her again as he had earlier though instead of pulling her back to the exact same position, this time he pulled her so her back pressed against his chest.

“I’m so glad you suggested this, Evelyn.” He murmured over the shell of her ear, his fingers combing the hair from one side of her neck to the other.

“I am a fast learner. I’ve already learned what you like and what you don’t like…” she could feel his breath against her neck as he whispered down to her, his cheek nuzzling against the side of her face.

“For example…”

The smug smirk that tugged at his lips was so blatant in his voice.

And before Evelyn could question him, or combat him or flirt back gently as she usually would…

His teeth dug into the flesh of her neck, just below her ear.

She bit into her lip to stop the gasp from ripping from her. But he must have known. Must’ve heard the restraint in the hitch of her breath, or the way her shoulder squared in his arms. Because his teeth pulled back and he lapped against the divots he left behind. He licked broadly up her neck to her earlobe, making her shiver. And once again his teeth were against her as he grinned.

“Don’t silence yourself…please” he purred “I need to hear you. I need to know…”

“I understa-aaah!” She choked out. His lips closed around her earlobe, suckling softly before letting it go.

“Good…” he praised and even that sent a shiver down her spine. “…you must tell me if you don’t like something…”

It felt a little like he was trying to demonstrate what he meant. Like the next thing he did, he almost expected her to say no.

But she didn’t…

And she wanted more.

His fingers came up from her waist to undo the bow around her collar. When it fell away, he tossed it to the side like it offended him. Like he had some sort of vendetta against anything that kept him from her.

Then his hands were everywhere again. One tugged at the collar he had freed whilst the other moved towards the buttons of her blouse, again freeing more of her soft flesh for him to devour.

The moment her shoulder was available his lips found it, mapping across her skin.

And she was fine for the moment.

Her breathing fast and shallow as she enjoyed his attentions but she was fine.

Calm.

Collected.

Then his lips brushed over the sensitive area between her neck and shoulder and she gasped under her breath. A tiny soft sigh of pleasure that not even she was certain she made.

But he heard…

And in response his teeth dug harshly into the muscle. And she crumpled and fell against him with a loud and needy whimper.

She felt him grin, though his teeth still sunk in. Then his cheeks hollowed and the pressure against her neck felt divine.

“Ominis…” she whimpered and pressed against him.

“Too much?” he murmured as his lips left her neck with a sinful pop.

“Not enough…” Evelyn murmured, barely able to get the words out before his teeth were on her again.

Everything ramped up.

The pressure at her neck, the speed of his fingers on her blouse. Not even he could keep up with himself as he ripped a button from the fabric, pulling it from her shoulder.

The button pinging off and cascading to the floor broke something in Ominis and he groaned.

Deep and guttural from his chest.

She felt it vibrate through her back, arching against him to feel more.

That’s when her leg stumbled back and she felt a hardened bulge press against her rear.

The tiniest amount of friction that must have put against him caused him to growl, his fingernails digging into the flesh of her stomach as his hands started to explore under her shirt.

She inhaled sharply.

And her hand flew to her wand, tucked haphazardly in her waistband, directing it towards the Undercrofts entrance.

“Colloportus” she whimpered and the light at the tip of her wand fizzled out.

Ominis’ tore himself from her neck with a groan.

“What are you doing?” He asked but his voice was heavy, husky, heady.

“I’m not having a repeat of last time…” she murmured, staring at her wand in confusion. She shook her wrist and tried again…

…as Ominis’ hand drifted lower, his fingertips delving just under her waistband.

“Collo-portus” she gasped once again the spell failing as she muttered the incantation incorrectly.

Ominis just laughed besides her ear.

“Am I rendering you speechless? Powerless?” He purred, his other hand wrapping around her.

That hand hadn’t yet touched her skin. It had remained somewhat reserved, tugging at her clothes. So when it graced the skin of her chest it was significantly cooler than his other, forcing a gasp from her lips and her skin to pucker and tingle with goosebumps.

“You’re…” she started with a flash of venom in her voice, wanting to be frustrated at him. “…just stop a second. Let me lock the gates…” she breathed.

He chuckled darkly and removed his hands from her holding them up in surrender.

“Apologies, my love.”

“You’re not sorry…” she muttered and shrugged her blouse back over her shoulder, approaching the gate with a death glare.

She tried several times to lock the gates to no avail. Her hands kept shaking, her voice breaking. And just as she was about to give up and do it the ‘old fashioned muggle way’, the mechanisms in the gate forced themselves closed with a heavy ‘clunk’.

When she turned, Ominis was sat casually in his armchair, wand extended to the gate with a smarmy grin on his lips.

She approached once again muttering under her breath.

“Shut up…”

“Oh don’t be like that…” he crooned smoothly “…I like that I’ve affected you in such a way.”

His wand twirled between his fingers as she approached and she stood before him, pouting rather obviously. He simply chuckled and tapped his lap.

“Sit…”

His commanding tone sent a shiver up her spine and her knees buckled, bending to perch upon his thigh, despite her bratty and frustrated disposition.

His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her back again, flush to his chest. His other hand lifted her knee to rest upon his, repeating the process for her other leg as he slipped it over his own.

Then as he spread his own legs, pulling and parting her along too, a startled little mewl left her.

“Tell me to stop…” he whispered against her ear, his hand stilling against her waist

“I don’t want you to…” she breathed shakily, arching into him and once again feeling that pulsing heat pressing into her.

“You’re shaking…” he stated as though it were a reason for him to cease his tormenting.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing”

“Oh I know…” he smirked against her neck. “…I just wanted to hear you admit it”

He knew he was probably being overconfident. But that’s what Ominis did best. He was blessed with a silver tongue and so he would use it.

So far it was working.

Each gruff grumble from his lips sent a wave of goosebumps over her skin, and his fingers followed.

She shivered and this time they prickled along her stomach where his fingers lay dormant. It shot a pulse through him, his fingers twitching back to life to explore her.

Feel her.

He was learning so much.

He already knew about the scar across her waist, he thought perhaps she would flinch when his digits brushed across them but…she was moaning again.

Her marred skin was…sensitive.

So very…very sensitive.

Then he recalled she had another. Another Sebastian had given her deep in that Scriptorium across her heart.

What a perfect excuse to test his hypothesis.

He bought his hand up and over her clothed breasts, that simple act itself causing her to shudder and whine.

So what would happen if I did this?

His middle finger traced over the swirling pattern at her chest and once again a wave of goosebumps puckered beneath him.

For a second, he almost regretted asking her to be more vocal.

Her constant shallow breath filled his ears. Her soft sighs, and whimpers were more distracting than he assumed they would be

But, oh, how those noises were heavenly.

And thankfully, he found his body acting on instinct, no matter how distracting she had become.

His hands roamed, explored, squeezed, touched…delving to places he had never dreamed of finding on her.

Mapping curves and valleys of hers he’d only ever fantasised about.

When his fingers breached the soft lacey material of her bralette, she stayed silent.

She bit into her bottom lip to try and ease her need for him. Because this was too much. How had he not even touched her and yet she was a pooled and sodden mess.

Ominis mistook her silence for displeasure, and moved further in.

The books certainly hadn’t covered this. The few points of research detailed many erogenous zones across a woman. And though he wasn’t idiotic enough to think all women were the same, most books, most erotic novels he had read said the same.

So, purely for academic purposes, he gripped her just a little bit harder.

And was rewarded with the most beautiful and sinful whimper he had heard. With that very moan came another wave of goosebumps that he greedily followed. Like her very skin was speaking to him.

Ominis squeezed again, the soft flesh of her breast spilling out between his fingers as her manhandled her in the very best of ways.

He kneaded her, much for his own pleasure as for hers, and when he felt the tiny puckered nub between his fingers, he squeezed again.

Another sharp whine pulled from Evelyn’s chest. He felt it vibrate along her chest and for a second he was enthralled.

He copied that same action, kneading and squeezing and stroking, pinching her hardening peak near his knuckle.

Only his other hand reached up to her chest. Where he’d felt that vibration.

And with every gasp and murmur and coo he felt it.

So he chased it, rumbling up her chest to her neck where it was strongest before it left her lips.

“Ominis…” she muttered as her head rolled back onto his shoulder.

“I can move my hand if you want…” he spoke, somewhat strained after he realised his fingers wrapped around her throat.

“I…like it” she whispered, somewhat shamefully.

But Ominis was well past the point of caring. He’d built such a strong image in his head of her splayed across him, keening and mewling for more. For him.

And he had the luxury of hearing, truly hearing, everything he was doing to her. Perhaps he was better off…

His fingers tightened only slightly against her throat, feeling for each rumble of a moan his other hand was causing her.

Then his mouth followed in his hands stead.

Nipping, sucking, tasting every inch of her neck that he could access, the soft and gentle tugging of her flesh turned her to putty in his arms.

It was almost like he’d caught a nerve and her whole body squirmed with a moan. And she pressed deliciously against the painful throbbing in his groin.

He hissed at the sensation, both foreign and familiar to him.

And in that moment he realised she was learning just as much about him as he was her.

Because she did it again.

On purpose.

And as he gasped, he relinquished the hold his teeth had on her shoulder, panting against the wet skin of her neck.

So she did it again, rubbing herself across the length that was forced down his trouser leg, thanking every god there was that multiple layers of clothing were between them. Lest she be confronted with the slick she most definitely would leave upon his leg.

He gasped again, croakier and huskier than before.

And she laughed. A low seductive little laugh that triggered something in Ominis.

“Show me…” he demanded with a growl, snatching her wrist up and dragging it to her opened legs.

Perhaps she was a little too eager. He’d spent the past…Merlin knows how long, teasing her and her body ached. Her stomach had twisted and tightened with a desire she’d never felt before. Even when she was alone.

So she fumbled with his hand in hers, his other still tweaking and kneading at her soft mounds.

He ghosted over hers, softly, delicately copying her movements as she pulled her underwear to the side.

Then his hand left, straying to the fabric of her skirt, bunched around her hips.

“This is long enough, isn’t it?” He inquired flatly.

“Er…it’s comes to my knee why do you-“

Then he tore into her underwear, ripping along the gusset and exposing her completely. Whether he knew it or not, his knuckle dragged over her centre as he did and she twitched at the new feeling of someone else touching her so intimately.

“This will be hard enough without things getting in the way” his voice resonated from behind her, his chest vibrating against her back.

That was…understandable. And she would be lying to herself if the act of Ominis ripping her underwear from her didn’t turn her into a living puddle.

And it was getting ridiculous how long this had gone on for. So she snatched his hand from the hem of her skirt and positioned him over her again.

His hand mirrored hers the whole way. Like there was a second delay to everything she was doing.

Though when her finger dipped between her folds, and his shortly followed, he snatched his hand away in an instant, bolting straight upright. His finger and thumb rubbed together feeling her slick desire on his finger and his breath caught in his throat.

“You’re…” he held a note on his throat like he couldn’t think of the correct word. The appropriate word.

“…so…” he gulped and swallowed thickly, the bob of his throat brushing against her shoulder

“…wet…”

And whilst he was struggling to think of words, Evelyn was struggling to not run her finger along herself like she knew she liked.

“For you…” she murmured on an exhale.

Ominis could feel himself twitching against her rear and again something snapped within him.

His arm scooped her up around her waist, pulling her closer and tighter to his chest.

“Show me…” he growled once more in her ear before his teeth attacked her neck once again.

His finger ghosted over hers again, shaking as they dipped into that pooling well of want.

Her fingers twitched back into action, immediately finding that bundle of nerves at the top that made her toes curl.

And made Ominis’ head spin.

Whether it was his hearing, how well they knew each other, or how quickly he picked things up when explained properly, he didn’t know. But soon he got the idea of what she wanted. And she was going too quickly for his liking.

He could feel her winding and coiling like a spring in his lap, her panting little breaths filling the air and his name tumbling from her lips. She writhed and whimpered on top of him.

Then suddenly his mind filled with fabrications of himself being deep inside of her, those same noises tumbling from her. That’s same warmth he could feel radiating on his finger, surrounding him. And his brain went foggy and instinct kicked in again.

Just as she reached and clambered for that peak.

And her thighs clamped closed for that little friction she knew would push her over the edge.

He ruined it.

All at once it was torn from her as long boney fingers dug into the softness of her thighs, pinning her eager hand to the side and spreading her legs once again.

She could’ve killed him.

“Keep. Them. Open.” he spat through his teeth, moving his leg to pin her ankles behind his calves. She gave a few tester pulls, desperate for any form of friction as she felt that heat slowly dying between her legs.

She couldn’t move.

And her breath stuttered and whimpered needily. She was about to cuss him, turning and demanding he continue before that knot tied itself back up again.

But Ominis had other ideas. Ideas that perhaps right now she wouldn’t appreciate but future her would.

His fingers trailed over her core mapping every fold and divot. Easily. He slid in between over and over, delighting in every time his finger circled that nub that sent her shivering.

Then his finger slipped down, deep, entering her slowly. Carefully.

He almost felt bad for a second. The noise that left her. It sounded pained. But he pulled from her and that same needy mewling spilled from her until he did it again, her back arching into him. And this time it wasn’t so pained, more of an anguished sigh of relief.

It was…delicious.

Every sinful sound from her lips and each soaked ripple between her legs. He was simply exploring yet to her it was everything.

Him feeling her

Him pleasuring her

Him filling her.

With each pump of his finger she felt that knot loosening once more and when his other hand joined his first, rolling tiny circles over her most sensitive spot…she halted.

She became undone.

That release so close to being hers.

And he knew it.

“Let me see…” he begged, his hand pulling from her and hovering just in front of her face, his thumb replacing his own absence with dexterous accuracy.

She pushed into his hand, not trusting her vocal cords to maintain a readable level. Imagine the Undercroft being discovered after centuries because she had moaned too loudly.

His fingers drifted over her features, taking in the small knot of exquisite ecstasy on her brow. The heat from her cheeks. Her swollen, plump lips from her own teeth.

And as his finger ghosted her lips she took it into her mouth, tasting her own desire faintly on his finger. Not that, that’s why. She just needed something to mute her…

Practically crying into his ear, her head lulled back as she mumbled his name through her own teeth clamped around his fingers.

A comfortable warm silence fell over them as she slowly recovered, the white spots of her vision fading. Only then was she aware of the gentle kisses he placed along her neck.

“Why…” she panted “…are you so good at everything you choose to do?”

He chuckled, deep and low.

“I had an excellent albeit impatient teacher”

Masterlist

genuinely if any of you have any tips or anything please tell me this genuine pained me to write but im proud my first smut

[wrathbit]

it can be hard to figure out dynamic & plots, so here’s a list of some fun “wishlist” ideas i could see for peter ! let me know if you’re interested in any concepts, or are inspired by one of them !

FAMILIAL

1 ) your muse, in the throes of teenage heroism (or vandalism, who knows) finds a mentor / accidental father figure in the form of spider-man. peter is a supportive figure to young heroes who can’t find solid help from others, as he knows what it’s like to go it in alone with everyone against you . . . while you’re still a child.

2 ) ( for SPIDER muses ) the web connects them all. your muse and peter, via the mystical, deadly thread that ties them to the multiverse, form that good ol’ found family bond.

3 ) a shared near-death experience always does wonders for found family relationships. our muses almost die & then can’t seem to get rid of each other afterwards. peak siblingism.

PLATONIC

1 ) your muse volunteers at FEAST, comes in for aid at FEAST, or is already camping out there. enter peter parker, nephew of FEAST’s leader, may parker. professional worrywart & nosy menace.

2 ) your muse & spider-man connect over some niche interest. now he goes out of his way to talk to them, with varying results.

3 ) peter & your muse are stuck in an alternate dimension & the only way out is through the power of friendship. whatever that means. too bad the two barely know each other. potential for hidden identities or estranged friends forced to get past old differences.

4 ) your muse (hero/villain/someone with an alternate identity) meets peter parker in the middle of a crisis. peter needs to pretend he’s a normal civilian, but he’s unable to stop sticking his nose into serious business. your muse probably wants to know what his problem is.

ROMANTIC

1 ) our muses are caught in a situation (different planet, alternate dimension, undercover) where they need to pretend to be lovers. forced proximity & fake dating just hits different.

2 ) peter parker needs to write an article about your muse. he’s not stalking you. he swears. but also, can you turn to the side a little ? he needs a good angle for the photo.

3 ) our muses are trapped in a tight space after an explosion / building collapse. can’t make a wrong move, or maybe it’s a precarious situation that they can’t immediately get out of. bonus points if one of them is injured.

4 ) hero-adjacent. an off-world or international mission is in need of a group of heroes. unfortunately, it’s a last minute call-to-arms, & there aren’t enough seats on the (insert travel vehicle) which means someone has to use a lap as a seat… let’s get cozy.

ANTAGONISTIC

1 ) a classic meet-cute. one of our muses bumps into the other & spills something All Over Them. sparks fly… the kind that lead to a blowout argument. hilarious if they both nearly get arrested for it.

2 ) working on teams isn’t peter’s strong suit. on a bad day, with the wrong circumstances, & your muse — maybe they can’t stand each other or keep making opposite decisions for certain tasks, but it is NOT going well.

[greyias]

[ CUP ]: bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face.

Pairing: Gale x Tav Words: ~4700 Rating: T, despite any indications to the contrary Notes: I have no excuse for this, other than it made me laugh. I’m very sorry. Set late in Act 2, after the infamous spider meat scene. I should probably add a warning for the arachnophobic: SPIDERS

The walls of the tent seemed to loom around him. Normally a tight fit for Gale to stand up, now even more crowded as he finished his preparations for the evening. He couldn’t help but glare at the confines closing in on him, not exactly claustrophobic but also not a location he would normally choose to stage a grand, romantic gesture. He briefly contemplated the merits of conjuring the elaborate illusion of his tower back in Waterdeep again — but no, his concentration was already centered on a spell vital for his plans to try and make up for his outburst earlier in the day.

And even if it weren’t an issue, his Waterdeep illusion required more from him than he had after the day’s battles and puzzle solving within the depths of the Gauntlet of Shar. Which in itself was hardly the most romantic location to woo one’s paramour. Unless one happened to be a cleric of Shar, but even then, Gale doubted Shadowheart would find their current environs particularly stimulating in that way. And it wasn’t like he was trying to woo her.

And perhaps he wasn’t exactly trying to woo his beloved—just more… apologize? His normally boisterous paladin paramour had been unusually distant and quiet with him the entire afternoon and evening, and the timing between that and his less-than-accepting reaction to the reveal of her, erm, unusual proclivities could hardly be a coincidence. So, logic dictated that he make a romantic gesture to show that he accepted her, unexpected predilections and all.

His scowl deepened as he fussed with the stack of tomes that normally lay in a pile next to his bedroll, trying to make for the illusion of more space in the already crowded tent. This corner had seemed like the perfect place to get them out of the way, but every inch really was at a premium right now, wasn’t it? Hardly worthy of the grand, arduous gesture he was trying to pull off. If only he had some vestige of civilization, a romantic suite at an inn that wasn’t one sliver of concentration from disaster. Although he’d readily trade for even half the space of a thin-walled room at even the Last Light Inn at this point.

Although, considering one of the harpers had specifically warned them away from sleeping in any of the actual beds because of a lice infestation in the mattresses, that would probably also put a damper on the romantic atmosphere. Although really, after a century long of the inn suffering from a shadow curse, how were those vermin supposed to have survived? Barring the arrival on the head of an unsuspecting Elturian refugee, Harper, or Flaming Fist, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. The buggers would need regular blood meals to survive any length of time, much less a century—unless they were undead shadow-cursed lice?

Hrm, best not take the chance. The living version of the buggers were bad enough, and toss in an undead, necromantic curse on top would just be an additional nightmare to deal with. Perhaps it was best to make due with the limits of his current environs rather than—

“Gale? Are you in here?”

Musings on the merits of undead lice were quickly derailed by the call.Wait, no—it was too soon for the guest of honor to arrive. “Uh—yes, just a moment!”

Before he could reach the entrance to intercept her, Ari peeled back the tent flap and stepped inside, a gentle expression of concern writ across her features. “You’ve been cooped up in here since dinner. You even missed Raphael, he says ‘hi’ by the way, and you wouldn’t believe what those scars on Astarion’s back—”

She froze, statement ending in a lurch as her gaze whipped over to the shadowed, far corner of the tent. Her eyes narrowed, then widened alarm before she flung herself fully into the space, maneuvering her unarmored body between Gale and the perceived threat. An appreciated, romantic gesture in normal times, but not at all the way he’d been picturing this going. As her bare fists balled up, arm reeling back for a punch he found himself grabbing her wrist in an attempt to keep the evening from derailing completely.

“Wait—no! It’s okay!”

“It’s not okay, there’s a giant spider in your tent!”

“That’s just Llarry—he’s a friend!”

Said giant spider, who had been settled back in the far corner, was sitting as comfortably as an enormous arachnid could in such a cramped space, legs crossed as if settling in for tea. One spindly, furry appendage waved as if in greeting. Although perhaps the gesture perhaps came across a little more intimidating to the uninitiated as Gale had to redouble his grip on Ari’s arm to keep her from punching in one of the creature’s eight eyes.

“See, see, friendly.”

Her protective scowl gave way to a deeply confused frown as she hesitantly lowered her fists. “I’m sorry—Llarry?”

“Well, technically his full name is Llarraggathssinssrigg, but really, he only uses that in more formal settings. He much prefers to go by Llarry.”

“You named the giant spider infesting your tent?”

Llarry reared back, front legs now waving irritably as a soft whisper of discontent escaped his mandibles. Ari’s balled fists started to raise back up at the action and Gale forcefully lowered them back down.

“No, no, of course not,” Gale corrected before they could get off on even more of the wrong foot… leg… tarsus… claw… whatever. The correct terminology wasn’t important at this particular juncture. “You know he doesn’t really appreciate the insinuation that he didn’t have a name before this, and also, it’s not very polite to refer to his presence as an infestation—”

“I can understand him perfectly fine, Gale!”

Oh. Right. The spell for speaking with animals had been one of the first things she cast each day in order to properly give Scratch and their resident owlbear cub morning scritches — here he had to settle for a potion to try and arrange tonight’s events. Although technically Llarry would have understood his instructions regardless, but considering the nature of the evening, it seemed only polite to have a proper back and forth about expectations, boundaries, safe words and whatnot.

Llarry made a series of elaborate clicking noises, front legs waving eagerly.

“Yes, of course,” Gale said at the reminder, “how boorish of me. Llarry, this vision of loveliness trying to valiantly punch you is Aravyn, although she does let her friends call her Ari.”

Llarry's multitude of eyes lit up as he trained his hopeful gaze on the half-elf.

“I have known you for all of sixty seconds. I’m not sure we’re to friends status yet.” As Llarry drooped dejectedly, some of Ari's defensiveness melted. “But I suppose since we’re already using nicknames, fine. You can use Ari, I guess.”

A trill of excitement escaped Llarry, far higher in pitch than expected from a beast of his size.

Seeing that indeed they were not about to be wrapped into a cocoon of webbing, Ari's defensive posture relaxed slightly, although she hadn't quite yet moved from her protective positioning shielding Gale. She tilted her head dubiously at the giant arachnid taking up a full third of the limited space. “So, let me see if I understand this correctly.”

“Of course.”

“You found a giant spider in your tent after dinner, and then made such good friends with him, you’re on a nickname basis with him.”

“Ah, not exactly that,” Gale said as he tried to step around her, although in the limited confines of the tent there wasn’t much room to maneuver without manhandling her. “You see, I brought Llarry here.”

“I’m sorry, what? 

“Third level conjuration spell, really handy in a fight if you need some extra allies—but you know. I figured why not be a little creative, spice things up as it were, in a safe, controlled environment.”

“…what?”

“You know…” Gale trailed off, hoping he didn’t have to spell it out.

“No, I really don’t.” Ari glanced between the two of them with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and suspicion. “Explain it to me like I’m five years old.”

“Oh, this is hardly the conversation for a five year old.”

“Gale!”

The hint of irritation in her invocation of his name had him fiddling nervously with his collar. “Well, you see, I realize that things back in the orthon’s lair got a little unpleasant. And maybe I wasn’t as supportive as I should have been in the moment. But I love you, and I wanted to show you that I fully support your… proclivities. No matter how… unconventional they may seem at first.”

“Unconventional proclivities? How does a spider—” Llarry reared back with an affronted hiss at the rude generalization instead of his name, front legs waving irritably. Ari glanced at the display with a cautious frown before amending, “I’m sorry, how does Llarry fit into this?”

“It’s okay.” Gale abandoned fussing with his collar to give her an awkward but hopefully supportive pat on the arm. “It’s a fixation, we can’t help what we find stimulating. What one person may find a strange predilection, another may discover an unexpected fount of amorous adventure.” He ignored her trying to mouth the phrase in befuddlement, and instead offered an encouraging smile. “So as a show of good faith and open-mindedness…”

With his free hand, Gale made an expansive gesture at Llarry, who waved a giant furred appendage in a way that was definitely overeager to get the evening started. Damn it, Llarry, don’t get too thirsty.

Horror slowly dawned on Ari’s face, color draining from her usually rosy, freckled cheeks as she turned from spider to man. “Gale.”

“Yes, dearest?”

“Is this about the spider meat?”

“And there’s zero judgement here. This is a safe space,” he was quick to reassure. “The point is, I brought Llarry here to show that I want to make this work, unexpected kinks and all.”

Gale wasn’t sure what reaction he’d been hoping for was, but her slowly sinking to the ground as if her legs could no longer hold her weight was not it. Instinctively he made to steady her, batting away the giant spider arm that was also trying to do the same thing. Perhaps she was just overwhelmed at the magnanimity of the gesture, the whole-hearted acceptance of—

“I... I need a moment,” she said weakly, swatting both of them away as she hid her face in her knees.

“I… yes, of course. All the time you need. Although, maybe less than an hour? There is a time limit on the conjuration spell, so if you’d like to get started—”

Llarry eagerly extended a leg in her direction, and it was immediately shoved back.

“I said a moment!” she insisted more forcefully.

Gale quickly made a “cut it out” motion at the spider, who folded back in on himself into his cramped corner with a huff. He knelt down next to her, hands hovering uselessly in the air as he tried to understand this reaction.

“I have a feeling I may have made a miscalculation.” The opening statement was spoken at a normal volume, but the next was dropped to a whisper that hopefully only she could hear, and he did his best to not let any dread creep into his tone. “Does it have to be dead? Llarry’s pretty open-minded, but I don’t think he’d be particularly amenable to that arrangement.”

Not to mention that would be beyond the bounds of this particular spell. But baby steps. Unfortunately, his whisper wasn’t quiet enough as Llarry let out a noise that was neither disturbed nor eager. Intrigued? Oh gods, best to not contemplate that.

“Gale,” Ari croaked.

“Yes, yes, I’m here. Unless you don’t want me to be? Do I… need to leave the tent for this? Is this a private affair? I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I—”

She whirled on the spot, uncomfortably twisting as she grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and pulled him close, eyes wide as her voice raised loud enough for the entire camp to hear. “Stop! I’m not sexually attracted to spiders!”

“What—I mean no, not attracted to them, of course. I didn’t think that!” Not entirely. “Attraction and arousal are two different things. For example, some people like me get hot under the collar when they see a beautiful, strong woman tear a bloody swath through cursed shadowed creatures, and when you lick… rotting… spider… meat… you—”

“It was charmed!” Her grip on his collar shifted to his shoulders as she shook him fiercely. “The spider meat was charmed!”

Elocution left him. “What? But you—”

“It was laced with succubus spittle, Gale!” She fixed him with a wide-eyed, mortified gaze. “I wasn’t… I don’t get turned on by licking spider meat.” As Llarry proffered a tentative limb, she released one hand to shove it away. “Or any part of a spider!”

“Oh.” Gale blinked. “Oh. Why in the nine hells would anyone dope spider meat? With an aphrodisiac?”

“There’s no good answers there, Gale! None!”

“Oh gods, you don’t think Yurgir was—not with the displacer beast?”

“I have been unable to think about anything else for the entire day!”

“Okay, not to lose the conversational thread, but I want to be one hundred and ten percent sure on this point. Your titillated reaction was in no way genuine, and you do not have any desire to indulge in any arachnid-related fetish?”

“I do not.” It came out a defeated whisper as she buried her face into shoulder to hide her burning cheeks. 

Llarry slumped and emitted a dejected trill, his evening clearly ruined.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“A relief?” She raised her head back up from where she was trying to hide from her mortification. “I thought you said you accepted me as I am—even the weird parts!”

“Yes, but that’s not a weird part of you is it?” He shook his head, then replayed back the words that he’d just spoken. “Wait—that came out wrong.”

“So you don’t accept my weirdness?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Gale held up his hands defensively. “I love your weirdness, your unexpected nature—I just am a little relieved I don’t need to reserve a third level spell slot to summon a fey spirit in the form of a giant spider for you to salivate over if we want to get intimate!”

“What the fuck is going on in that tent?” Astarion’s loud voice drifted their way.

“Dark Lady preserve us, don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to!” Shadowheart chimed in.

Okay, that was unfortunate. Another issue to deal with at another time. 

“You—you didn’t use your sound dampening charm you created?” Ari whispered fiercely. “When you thought we were going to have a wild night of spider licking?”

“Look, Llarry requires a dedicated amount of concentration to keep on this plane of existence—”

“Oh, well if Llarry requires your concentration—”

The spider in question made an elaborate series of gestures with three of his appendages, clearly indicating that this was not a part of the relationship he had agreed to be party to.

“Please, Llarry,” Gale begged first to spider, then turned his attention to his girlfriend, “I’m trying here.”

“Trying what?” An edge of equal desperation tinged her voice. “Why, why, why why—” she caught herself, took a breath, then exhaled before finishing the question, “why did you feel the need to bring a giant spider into… this?”

“I already told you—I thought I hurt your feelings.”

“You did hurt my feelings—because you yelled at me!”

“And I was only yelling out of surprise,” he tried, oh he tried to stop himself from finishing the rest of that thought, but Gale of Waterdeep was nothing if not thorough in the worst of ways, “because you licked a dead spider!”

“I only licked it because it smelled weird and magical and off!”

“Oh yes, a great justification for supping a little essence d’arachnid — not to mention a sure fire way to pick up a food-borne illness.”

“Hey! I needed to investigate!”

“With your tongue? Did you see me putting ancient relics in my mouth?”

“Yes! I gave you several to stabilize your condition!”

“I—I didn’t eat them, I just consumed them, there’s a difference!”

“And that difference is?”

“Well, one involves a dead spider and your tongue—”

“You know for someone who’s claiming this was a safe space, I’m hearing a lot of judgement in your voice.”

“I’m not judging,” Gale insisted. “I’m just…”

Ari quirked a single brow, arms crossed as she awaited his explanation for why this was about his concern, not judgement. And this entire thing was a ridiculous misunderstanding as it was. Llarry let out a long series of very sincere, but chiding clicks.

“You’re not helping,” Gale muttered darkly.

“You have to admit, Llarry has a point.”

“I really don’t have to admit that.” He shot her a look. “And okay, let’s say I concede that inadvisable curiosity had you put your tongue on it the first time. But if you knew it was charmed, why in Faerun did you taste it again?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep, deep red again. “Because you yelled at me!”

“I feel like we covered that point already.” Gale frowned. “Have we reached a circle in this ridiculous argument? Or is it a spiral at this point?”

Llarry made a low inquiring trill, front legs gesturing in a fluid motion toward the tent flaps, as this was definitely not the fun evening he had been promised.

“Not now, Llarry,” both Ari and Gale  sighed in unison.

Gale scrubbed a hand across his eyes, a desperation clawing up and squeezing at his chest as this conversation, if it could even be called that at this point, seemed to spiral completely out of control. Ah, control, what a beautiful, deranged illusion to grasp for.

Words. He needed words. “It was never my intention to upset you.” That was a good start. “When you grew distant, avoiding my gaze… can you really blame me for wanting to fix it?”

She stared at him, long and hard in a way that told him without any words, that yes. Maybe a little blame was being directed his way. He couldn’t help but wilt some at that.

“I can see you’re mad,” he started.

“I’m not mad,” she insisted. 

“But you’re not happy either.” This really wasn’t going well at all. “Look, I may not have the cleanest track record when it comes to correcting mistakes in relationships. Possibly overcorrecting just a tad.”

“Just ‘a tad’? You don’t think this was a little extreme?” She asked softly, the trace of hurt in the question like a twist of the knife. “Instead of… talking to me first?”

“When you put it that way… I suppose going to such elaborate lengths without consulting you first was perhaps a little ill-considered.” The wounded look still lingered in her eyes, and he tried to swallow past that gnawing guilt trying to rise back up in him. “You just seemed upset, and you know how they say actions speak louder than words, and I know I use a lot of words.”

“You do,” she said quietly. “You know, the first time was out of curiosity.”

“I do feel like we’ve firmly established that fact.”

She shot him a look, but the heat in it was quelled by something a little more raw. “The second time wasn’t just because you yelled or the meat was charmed. It was what you said.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You suggested that we’d run our course.”

“I did no such thing,” he insisted, with a heat. “I would never—”

“You literally told me that, and I quote, ‘the time might just have come when you and I should split ways’.” After the verbatim recitation she dropped her gaze, looking anywhere but at him.

“That was a joke,” Gale insisted hotly.

“It certainly didn’t sound like one at the time.”

Again, she wouldn’t quite look at him, just like most of the afternoon that had started this whole sordid affair. Llarry’s eight eyes glanced between Ari, to Gale, and with a world’s worth of recrimination behind the action. Stupid summoned spider—why had he not let the damned thing leave the tent when they had a chance?

Spider voyeur be damned, he moved in, gently cupping her face and tilting it up so he could look her in the eye. He half-expected her to pull away, but she allowed the motion. The shuttered expression on her face cranked that vice around his chest one notch tighter, even as his thumb brushed lightly across her jaw line.

“I told you once that nothing would turn my heart from you,” his voice was naught but a whisper, but with no room between them, it might as well have echoed from the walls, “and that hasn’t changed.”

She swallowed and after a moment managed to summon the semblance of a smile. “Not even my unfortunate habit of sampling things I shouldn’t?”

“Not even that,” he breathed.

She let out a half breath, half-laugh in response, and this time when she closed her eyes it seemed to be in relief. It was a small win, but he’d take it, and the vice loosened enough so he could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, leaning into him.

“Whatever for?”

“Overreacting?” she tried. “I probably should have said something too. I just… felt stupid about the whole thing. And you were just so angry when you were yelling at me to stop licking things.”

“I was concerned,” he insisted, and yes, maybe a little irked that he’d been ignored in the moment. “Maybe we can just chalk up this entire sordid affair to misplaced affections and intentions? I mean, I brought Llarry into our lives to prove my love, didn’t I?”

The third wheel cleverly disguised as a giant spider rolled all eight of his eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, “it was a genuine misunderstanding. Anyone could make this mistake?”

“Anyone?” Ari asked.

“Okay, maybe just me,” he amended, “but I think it’s safe to say that you’re off the hook for the evening, my eight-legged friend.”

A woeful, keening sound left the spider, his large, bulbous head dipping low in clear dejection.

“It’s you not you, Llarry,” Gale insisted, “it’s me.”

The mandibles clicked in rapid staccato, intercut with distressed squeaking.

“Yes, yes, but given the new information we’ve all uncovered in this impromptu group therapy session, the parameters of our previous negotiations really don’t apply here.”

Another click, what counted as a huff.

“Come now, let me just release you from your service. You’ve got less than an hour left of existence, my friend, you should make the most of it.”

Llarry turned his octagonal gaze in Ari’s direction. 

“No.”

Now, spiders couldn’t exactly snort, as they lacked the nostrils to do so. However every single spiracle across his large hairy body exhaled their frustration at the same time, and with a decisive shuffle of all eight legs pounding against the rug-lined floor of the tent, Llarry waddled his way past the embracing couple and shoved his way out the tent’s front flap and into the camp beyond.

“Wait, Llarry, don’t be like that—”

Almost immediately, cries of alarm went up from the rest of the party going about their evening, Scratch let out a loud growl as the owlbear cub screeched a warning. The clang of metal against stone indicated that someone had taken a swipe at the vorekink-friendly spider — and missed.

“Oh no,” Ari murmured, starting to move towards the tent flap to try and save their weird relationship counselor, “Llarry!”

“He’s up in the rafters already!” That seemed to be Lae’zel, presumably the one that had tried to cut the poor dejected spider in two. “Damn it elf, can’t you aim your longbow better?”

“It’s not my fault he’s faster than a Quickling on a sugar high!” Astarion snapped back.

“Okay, am I going crazy,” Karlach asked loudly, “or was that spider crying?”

“Leave that poor spider alone,” Wyll, ever the voice of reason, tried to bring peace and order back into their lives. Bless him. He tried.

“Yes. It’s clearly had a rough evening,” Halsin rumbled.

“I guess he’s fine?” Ari winced, turning back to Gale.

“He always did have a penchant for drama,” Gale sighed.

“You’ve known him for less than an hour.”

“But it seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“Gods yes.” She buried her face into his shoulder again. “Do you think we have any chance of convincing everyone they didn’t hear any of this?”

“I’m afraid I’m tapped out of that particular magic for this evening.”

“Is there no justice in the world?”

“Modifying our friends memory? Probably not justice—I would say it’s morally dubious at best.”

Ari tried to sink her head further into the retreat of Gale’s night shirt. Unfortunately it was not nearly as voluminous as the folds of the robes he wore in the daytime, so there was not much solace to be found there. The muffled groan was the best she could muster. At that point, the tent flap shifted again and Karlach looked in, an eyebrow raised as she took in the sight before her.

“Soooo,” she managed to draw out the two-letter word out into multiple syllables, “you’re both alive I can see. Well, I mean we already kind of knew you were alive. Because of all the yelling.”

“Remarkable observation as always, Karlach,” Gale’s reply was dry, one hand busy smoothing the top of his mortified girlfriend’s head. “Can we help you?”

“Ah, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“Look, the gang—” At Gale’s quirked eyebrow, she amended, “—okay, mostly Astarion because he’s nosey as fuck, sent me in to ask what the hells is going on in here? I told him if the spider tent’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking, but he insisted…”

“Just a little… mutual misunderstanding is all.”

“Uh huh. You know, if you want to keep it spicy, there’s a lot easier ways than the five million fucked up scenarios I imagined listening to all that.”

Another pitiful moan left Ari, but it was mostly muffled by Gale’s shoulder. He gave her head a consoling pet.

“She okay?”

“No,” Ari’s words were muted by her insistence of slowly smothering herself in her boyfriend’s shoulder, “just let ceremorphosis take me now. I don’t think even my soul wants to remember any of this.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Karlach insisted.

“Astarion will never shut up about this,” is what Gale was pretty sure she said, but it was mostly just indistinct mumblings at this point.

“Hey, first wise crack from Fangs, and I’ll cave his skull in. Then we can have Withers bring him back. No harm, no foul.”

“Except for Astarion’s skull,” Gale pointed out.

“You’d do that for me?” Ari mumbled.

“For you, soldier? Anything.“ She gave Gale a lurid wink. “Well, I’m just going to leave you two lovebirds to go ahead and smooth out any remaining ‘misunderstandings’ you might have. Maybe just put up that fancy sound dampening charm before you really get going, ‘ey?”

With that, she ducked back out, a chuckle in her wake. Finally alone, Ari emerged from her refuge in Gale’s shoulder, a red crease marking where she’d pressed her face particularly hard against his clavicle. “You’re really smart, right? What’s the chance of a rogue portal appearing and swallowing us up before we have to face the others tomorrow?”

“Alas, a statistical improbability.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Gale tucked back an errant honey-blonde strand, attempting to smooth her now disheveled hair. “I think we might have to resign ourselves to being the talk of the camp, at least until the next insanity is thrown our way.”

She dramatically hid her face back in his shoulder, as if he’d pronounced the world was ending. “I am never leaving this tent again.”

[ask-tighnari]

⏪🔊 (I’m curious..)

Upset Muse meme

(I don't know if this is a cross-device thing, but ⏪ was not on the options for me...)

🔊 Experiencing sensory overload

Tighnari let out a breath as he dropped his head against the table, holding his ears. Sumeru City was loud. That was a fact of life. Though it would seem humans had a different definition of 'loud' to Valuka shunas because how on earth did anyone live here for their entire life? There were archons know how many conversations going on at the same time, waves smashing against the walls, ships rocking against their piers, gangways knocking on the decks. He wasn't even in the bazaar, yet. He'd come to the docks solely because they were usually quieter than Treasures Street or the Grand Bazaar.

Normally, the light from the sun in the city was nice, warming, refreshing, a nice change of pace from having to climb all the way to the canopy for light. Not today. Today, it was too bright, too hot, not as bad as being in the desert, thankfully, but all the same, undesired. He was probably just tired. And a bit hungry.

It wasn't even like he could go back to the rainforest, he was here for the express purpose of food shopping. Sure, he could hunt, he was a great hunter, phenomenal, if you will, but he was also the person who'd implemented a temporary ban on personal hunting in Avidya while populations recovered after rather severe poacher activity so it would look really bad if he went out hunting rather than getting food from the professional butchers.

Ideally, someone he knew would spontaneously appear and he could ask them. Realistically, he was a scientist and knew people couldn't quite teleport just yet. Kaveh and Haitham were always in the city, but they'd both be working, and he couldn't disturb them. Collei was on a patrol that she'd been really excited about and there was no way he'd pull her back from that early, she wanted to be on that patrol. He'd seen Dehya and Candace around the bazaar quite a few time, but they were most likely in the desert. Cyno, statistically, even further into the desert than the ladies. Sethos lives in the desert and was probably still adapting to the quite severe recent changes in his life. Madame Faruzan... yeah, no, he was not in the mood for a lecture about how he should have been more prepared and he was not a living copy of the Rainforest Survival Guide, thank you very much. He was better.

Why were so many of his friends desert people? What was so good about the desert? Sure, it had cool scorpions, and libraries built in the cliffs, Sethos' entirely livelihood, cool mammals, much of Cyno's job, cool spiders, 8/12 months of the year Tighnari's own father, cool plants, but the rainforest could also offer things. They had cool bugs too! Ignore the increased chances of being mauled by an animal or falling from a significant height or being struck by lightning, that's what the Countryside Code and safety ropes and houses were for. Temperatures that didn't make you faint after ten minutes, shade, rain, cool bugs, cool plants, fungi, did he mention the cool bugs? Clearly the rainforest was better, so why were so many of his friends always in the desert?

He looked up from the table, practically glaring at the path back up to the main city. He'd be fine once he got outside of the city and back to the rainforest. But if he left now, he would not come back because he would not put up with this again. So he had to get through with this. Archons, have pity on his pour soul.

[heliads]

'wckd is good' part 2 - newt

Based on a past request for a Maze Runner fic set in the MCU where Newt was Venom, Reader was Spider-Woman.

part one / masterlist

a/n yes this is wayy longer than i expected lmao but i choose to see this as a good thing

Running has always been easier than staying to face the truth. As you swing back through the dark city, you hear Newt’s words echoing in your head with every snap of web hitting concrete and glass. It is foolish to let one conversation shatter your entire worldview, but even running can’t convince your mind to settle back the way it had been. Newt has done his part well. 

Worst of all, you think he was right about you, about everything. Usually, when the moon hangs low over the city such that its glow can be hidden by the shadows of the skyscrapers around you, your worst fears about this city seem like they couldn’t be more true. On nights like these, you always see a monster lurking in the face of every man, the darkness bleeding from every eye. Now, though, in every face you see only a blond boy grinning back at you. If the worst monster you’ve seen lately was just a kid like you, what does that say about every creature you’ve killed in the name of preserving the peace? What does that say about you?

You don’t get into any more confrontations that night, electing instead to perch on the edge of a dark roof and watch the lights of the cars go by far below you. Your shift ends, but you only return to WCKD headquarters when you’re certain no one else will be there. A few rooms have lights on, but you avoid them as best you can. There is no one you want to see right now. No, not true— there is one person you want to see, but if he’s in WCKD’s clutches, it’s all over. 

Sleep comes fitfully that night, as it has every night before that and will every night again. You see Newt reaching out a hand to you, smiling easily, but then his jaw ripples and the monster’s awful fangs come out again, distorting his charm into something terrible. You wake up screaming; for you or for him, you can’t be sure. 

Even more restless than usual that morning, you decide to go on a walk to clear your head. Normally, walking around in the bright sunshine, seeing the smiling families, the upturned faces, all serves to lift your mood. A strong city is a happy city; this is why you do it, remember? You protect these people, all of them. It’s worth every sacrifice. 

Turning down another street, though, your spirits refuse to lift. How many more people would be here if you hadn’t been in charge of taking them out? How many times did you get it wrong? How many Albys do there have to be before you realize that you can’t make judgment calls on someone’s life?

Lost in thought, your guard slips unconsciously. You don’t notice the hand snaking out to grab your arm until someone’s already pulled you under a shadowy overhang. Immediately, you’re on high alert, grabbing a knife from your belt to press against their throat, but your attacker just laughs. It is this sound and this sound alone, that call like the high-pitched ring of a bell, that stops you from slitting his throat. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Newt,” you warn him as you pull your knife away from his neck. 

For someone who’s life almost ended, he seems remarkably unaffected by your words. “It’s lovely to see you, too. Didn’t realize you remembered my name.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s my job to know things. Don’t take it personally.”

“Yes, Y/N, because it would be terrible to not be as affectionate as you,” Newt muses. “Forgive me for wanting to be friendly.”

“Being friendly gets you killed.” You remark plainly. “So does trying to sneak up on an assassin. Don’t let that happen again.”

You turn away and walk back onto the sidewalk. Newt, however, just joins you without a heartbeat’s delay. “It’s not up to me whether this happens again. I think you wanted to see me a little more than you care to admit.”

You shoot him an angry look, but Newt remains resolutely cheerful. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Newt asks. Without giving you a chance to interject, he carried on blithely, “Or maybe you’re right. Here, I’ll give you a chance to prove it. I’m meeting up with some friends tonight to discuss our favorite enemy. If you don’t want any of this, feel free to stay away. Or don’t.”

He casually passes you a folded paper that’s been creased from staying in his pocket. A quick glance towards its contents reveals a place and time. 

You arch a brow. “If this little gathering is happening so you can denounce WCKD, I don’t think giving the location to one of its best soldiers is really the brightest idea.”

Newt lifts a shoulder. “That’s what they said too, but I know what I saw last night. They don’t have a chokehold on you, Y/N, despite what you might try to tell me. Somewhere in there,” he says, brushing a hand against your temples, “you want out. Let me help you with that.”

You press your lips together, thinking. Going could be suicide. What if this is just a trap to take out WCKD’s finest agents one by one, and Newt’s just telling you this so he can lure you into letting your guard down?

At the same time, your mind whispers selfishly, what if he isn’t lying? What if there was a world without WCKD? You haven’t dared to let yourself imagine such a thing in a long time; security cracked down after Thomas and Minho ran away a year or so ago. There’s no way they’d let you go without a fight. If Newt’s friends had your back, then maybe, just maybe, you might win this one. 

“You told your friends about me? Moving awfully fast, aren’t you?” You question. 

Newt grins. “Don’t take it personally, baby. I tell them a lot. Doesn’t mean we aren’t special, of course, but you wouldn’t be the first girl I’ve brought home.”

You laugh, surprising yourself. “No need to get carried away.”

“Too late,” he says, smiling back at you, and then he turns down a corner and disappears into the crowd. You’re left clutching the note, wondering if this mistake might cost you your life, and if you’re leading any sort of life that’s worth saving to avoid a chance like this. 

You shouldn’t go. Odds are, WCKD has someone tailing you, and even though you’re always careful to shake anyone you even suspect to be following you, there’s no way to tell for certain that you got rid of everyone. You check your clothes and personal items thoroughly for recording devices every time you leave WCKD headquarters, but what’s the precautions of one girl against such a massive organization?

You check the note once, twice, and then again. The time is later tonight, the pickup location outside the docks near the south of the city. Newt hasn’t given you many hours to deliberate, although you suspect that was intentional. The less time you have to ponder about whether or not you’ll take him up on his offer, the less time you have to turn them into WCKD if you decide to betray him instead of trying to run.

In the end, you put away your sense of self-preservation and head out again. You aren’t scheduled to go out on patrol until tomorrow, so you’ll have plenty of time in case something happens. You don nondescript clothing and pull a baseball cap low over your head to disguise your face. After taking a long, roundabout way to the docks to avoid suspicion, you stand on a pier, watching the dark water go by.

It was smart of them to pick this place. The sound of the tides, the churning of the boats up and down the water, the roaring of distant traffic echoing off of the tall buildings, all serve to muffle the sound of the strangers as they walk up to you. Normally, you’re able to sense trouble when it comes to you, but maybe your reflexes decide that your assailants aren’t a threat before your head makes that call, because you don’t notice anyone sneaking up behind you until they’ve already shoved a dark hood over your head and clamped a mouth over your hand to silence any shouts.

The second the hood is pulled over your eyes, you’re swimming in dark danger. You can feel the heartbeats of the people around you; four of them, men, young men. Boys. Newt’s age. Your age. They’re desperate, you can taste their fear like metal on your tongue. One of them has a limp. If you strike now, you could break a leg, roll away long enough to get the hood off of your head, then kill them all. They’d be dead before they even hit the ground. The blood would run scarlet into the river and ruin your last chances of leaving this hell. You’d be alive, though. Isn’t that why you do all of this, to live? Isn’t that the only motivation any of us have ever had?

A whisper in your ear, sharp and urgent:  “Trust me. Please.”

Newt.

You don’t trust people. You shouldn’t. He knows this. If Newt set you up to die, though, he would have killed you already. Newt’s monster doesn’t need to sneak up on you and blind you to kill you. One snap of those jaws would do the trick. If Newt wants you to play by these shifty rules, there must be a reason. Strangely enough, you realize that you believe in him enough to want to know what that reason is.

You comply, going limp long enough for the others to seize hold of your arms and take you with them into a waiting car. They intentionally take a confusing, circuitous route so as to confuse you. Still, you carefully note each turn, how long you stop at traffic lights or stop signs. Then you’re bustled out of the car again and into a building with tall ceilings; you can tell from how your footsteps echo against the top that the sound has a long way to go.

Eventually, you’re sat down on a chair, your hands bound behind you. The others hover nearby, you can sense their presences. There are more of them now, probably a dozen. Mostly inhumans, with the occasional exception. Not bad numbers, but not enough to really challenge WCKD. That’s why they’ve gone to you, though, you suppose. Foolhardy, but not completely insane.

A voice, loud and challenging, calls you sharply back to reality. “Y/N. You work for WCKD, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you answer deadpan. “None of you do. That’s why you were so kind as to bring me here, right? You were desperate. Now, can you take this hood off of my head? I would hate for you to miss anything I said.”

The loud boy scoffs. “There’s no way we’re letting you get a good look at us. You’d just turn us in.”

You cock your head to the side, staring exactly where you think the boy’s eyes are. “Would I? I don’t need my sight to do that. There are fifteen of you in this room right now, but that’s not all of you. About five leaders, I think. All teenagers. One adult, though. He drove. And one little boy. I can hear your heartbeats. I know who you are.”

A young voice lets out a muffled complaint from the far side of the room. “I’m not a little boy.”

Instantly, he’s shamed into silence. “Shut it, Chuck. Don’t give yourself away.”

A weakness. You grin, even though they can’t see it. “Chuck? That’s the boy, then. If I looked up connections between boys named Newt and Chuck, how long do you think it would take for me to track all of you down? I’d start by checking security cams near the docks. We’re in the warehouses near the docks. I’d guess the third from the left in the second row, yes? Usually used for temporary storage of agricultural products, but you’re in between seasons, so it’s empty for now and you’ve been borrowing it for meetings.”

A collection of gasps confirms your theory. You press on. “I know where you are, I know who you are. Bonds and a hood won’t keep me. Hell, I don’t even need you to undo me. I can manage that by myself.”

See, your would-be captors were so distracted by their own seeming safety that they didn’t check to make sure your wrists were fully together when they tied you down. Also, they were so stunned by you being able to catch onto them that they didn’t notice you slowly pulling a blade from your sleeve, nor spot when you sawed through your bonds. You stand up easily, toss the ropes to the ground, and pull the hood from your head.

You’re greeted with fifteen shocked faces. Well, fourteen. One’s grinning proudly. Newt. He winks when you catch his eye, but he’s careful not to let his friends see. Another boy, with close-cropped hair and a dark glare, looks particularly unhappy about your little escape. This is the one who had been speaking to you, you assume, and there’s the man in the back who drove you here. Silver touches his dark hair near his temples, but he looks intimidating enough anyway. Close by him is a girl about your age.

The angry boy who had spoken earlier groans in disgust. The angrier he gets, the more his eyes start to flicker, turning from green to a fiery red. Sparks flash along his clenched fists. Another inhuman, then. Fire powers. He’s probably somewhere on your list. “Who tied her up? Winston, you know to make the bonds stronger than that.”

“Wasn’t his fault,” you call out, and hold up the knife you’d disguised in your sleeve to make your point.

The boy groans again. “What is that? No one checked her for weapons?”

“You certainly didn’t, Gally,” Newt points out.

The boy– Gally– tosses Newt an irritated look. “Don’t start with me, Newt. I bet you’re just delighted with her for this bit of showmanship, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Newt says, grinning over at you.

Gally looks like he can’t decide who he wants to throttle more, you or Newt. “Fine. Fine. Let’s get started, if that’s what you really want. How do we know we can trust you?”

“You��re the ones who kidnapped me,” you argue. “I think I should be asking that question first.”

Gally might actually try to kill you this time, so Newt quickly steps in before things can escalate further. “Play along, will you?” Newt asks. “We’ll get nowhere if both of you are bickering the whole time.”

You sigh. “Alright, fine. If I wanted to turn you guys in, you’d already be dead. WCKD doesn’t cut corners, you know that. We would have burned your entire establishment to the ground. Happy?”

“Very,” Gally remarks dryly. “We’re familiar with your typical way of handling things, thank you very much. We know how WCKD operates.”

“If you know so much, why do you need me?” You ask. “Newt knew where to find me even on my off day. I’m assuming you’ve done your research thoroughly or you’ve got a source, in which case you’d have no reason to reach out to me, too. Why take a risk like this?”

“Because our source is no longer in WCKD,” Newt interjects. “Our information is out of date. We want more relevant gossip, to put it plainly.”

You frown. “You used to have a source in WCKD? Who?”

Newt goes silent, something almost like pity in his eyes. Gally, unencumbered by weak things like empathy, answers your question. “Thomas.”

You draw in a harsh breath. “You know Thomas?”

This changes the whole situation. Thomas– Thomas was everything. He and Teresa were the very first to show up to WCKD. You were the third, but they’d been there for at least a year before you. It changed them, you think. It made them closer than anyone else. When Thomas left, it destroyed Teresa. You and Teresa have known each other for years now, but it’s nowhere remotely close to the bond she shared with Thomas. Nothing can ever match that.

Thomas had been the last of the good ones, you think. After he left, everything was ruined. It was the first sign of the end of days. If Thomas, Thomas the believer, Thomas, the one who was willing to give everything to cause even when it left him broken and bloody, could walk away, what claim did the rest of you have to anything at all?

Thomas’ departure changed the way that WCKD worked. Neither Thomas nor Teresa had been true experiments. Teresa was trained as a Black Widow, and Thomas made himself an indestructible shield, running around the city as Captain America and saving people wherever he went. They juiced him up a little to make him stronger, but nothing as intense as the rest of you. No cuts were made.

Thomas was the last ideal any of you had that humanity could be protected by other humans. Once Thomas was gone, WCKD started up their labs in earnest. Now, almost every one of their teenage recruits is modified in some way. They say it’s because you have to fight fire with fire, that you can’t possibly compete with mutants if you’re not more than human yourself, but many terrible things have been done in the name of scientific progress. This would not be the first.

And now you find out that Thomas had once been here. Thomas had been friends with everyone in this room. You look wildly from face to face, expecting to find the boy you had once pledged to defend until your dying breath. The two of you had saved each other on countless dangerous missions, but now he’s just gone, and you aren’t even entirely sure that you would recognize him were you to see him again.

Newt saves you from the peril of not knowing. “He’s not here,” he answers you gently. “Thomas got out. He told us to try to reach you, though. Said you could be trusted.”

“Not Teresa?” You ask softly. That surprises you. If Thomas could save anyone, wouldn’t it be her?

Newt shakes his head. “He said Teresa was better than him. She would never leave.”

“But I would?” You say bitterly.

“He knew you could save us, not just the city,” Newt supplies. You’re not sure if that makes it all better or worse, but it is an answer to fill the empty silence curling between your ribs, so that helps with something, at least.

You nod curtly. “Alright, then. If you’ve got Thomas on your side, I’ll help. Just– have you seen him recently? Is he still alive? I would ask on my end, but I don’t know if WCKD would tell us if they– if they killed him.”

Gally looks vaguely irritated. “No, the asshole’s still alive. He’s a major pain, won’t stop asking questions or getting in the way we do things, but he’s still kicking.”

You grin in spite of yourself. “That’s Thomas for you. He has a way of getting under your skin. He means well, though.”

Newt laughs. “That’s one way of putting it. He skipped town a week or so back. Said he was going to try to look for an old friend.”

At first, you’re confused about who that would be except for you and Teresa, and then– Oh. It hits you like a tidal wave. “Minho.”

Newt nods. “You knew him too?”

You smile. “The four of us were always the closest. Maybe we can do a little family reunion if I can get away without WCKD always watching my back.”

Gally coughs pointedly. “Let’s get back to business. You can reminisce later about the good old days of killing mutants together. You’re willing to help?”

You incline your head. “As best I can. Tell me what you need and I’ll do my best to get it. It might be slow going at first, I’ve got to divert suspicion, but I have access to just about everything. Perks of working for them since I was small. Satellite feeds, location tracking, anything.”

For the first time all night, you think Gally smiles. “You know what, I think we just might be friends after all.”

Isn’t that a lovely thought? As it turns out, Gally isn’t wrong. Days turn into weeks, and the information you accumulate for Newt’s friends steadily turns into a virtual mountain. You find mutants for them, people with abilities who WCKD would kill but they can save. They have friends, too, who are already on WCKD’s radar and need to be removed from the list. You pretend to kill them to erase any sign of their existence. After that, they can run without getting gunned down when they try to leave the city. WCKD has this place on lockdown, the only way you can escape their clutches is in a bodybag, so you fake that part and everything goes according to plan.

You usually rotate members of Newt’s group when handing off information to avoid suspicion, but your favorite blond shows up the most often. You heard one of the other boys grumbling once that Newt has a habit of insisting that it be him to meet up with you, even threatening to set his monster on someone who argued too hard against it, but that just makes you laugh. Newt’s a sweetheart. He wouldn’t hurt any of his friends to stop them from flirting with you. Hopefully.

One evening, the two of you are walking along the river for such a handoff when Newt breaks the one boundary both of you have had the good sense to maintain and asks you when you’re going to leave along with them. Newt’s friends aren’t interested in making a stand against WCKD, they just want to get the last of their allies out of the city before the whole thing burns down.

The more you research on Newt’s behalf, the more you realize how precarious the whole affair is. WCKD has no surefire way of keeping crime out. Their only solution for stopping violence is to nip it in the bud, so to speak, but innocents get caught in the crossfires more often than not. The murder rate is skyrocketing anyway. Nothing any of you do will matter in the long run, and it just puts the teenagers WCKD hires in harm’s way more than the adults who hide in the wings and keep their hands clean.

It’s like working just downhill from a volcano. At some point, the lava will flood into your streets and engulf you all in an inferno of blood and tears. You pretend that you can just work hard enough to fight that, but it isn’t working. It hasn’t since the start. You can push off the inevitable a few weeks, but it always comes in the end.

That’s why Newt and his friends are so interested in getting out. WCKD keeps clear tags on all mutants and inhumans in the area. The second any of you try to run, they send an assassin out to kill you. Supposedly, it’s all about containing the threat, but none of this has ever been about having a good motive, no matter what you say. Everything leads back to power. If you run the city with all the inhumans, you have more power than the rest. Easy as that.

You’ve been steadily helping people escape. Chuck was one of the first to go, all of you agreed. He was just a kid, hardly twelve. He ended up on WCKD’s list because he figured out how to turn his flesh and bone into any material. Soft skin could become as hard as diamond or as pliable as water in a second if he just thought about it. Often, he didn’t, electing instead to just ignore his mutation in favor of trying to blend in with the rest of the guys he idolized, but WCKD doesn’t forget as easily as a preteen.

There were others, too. Clint, a boy about your age, who could heal from any injury. Frypan found an old spell book and learned how to cook up portals to other places and fantastic rings of glowing energy. Zart could shrink as small as an ant or grow taller than a skyscraper. Jorge had a mechanical suit impervious to most attacks that let him fly so long as he kept it up to date; he taught a girl named Brenda how to do the same. They don’t like being apart.

Only a few remain now. Newt, with his monster. Gally, with his fire abilities. You, with your webs. Thomas has appeared a few times now to help ferry people out of the city. The first time you saw him, you nearly wept. It was like seeing a ghost. You assumed he had died a long time ago, but then you’d walked into the warehouse one day and there he was, making a sarcastic joke to Newt. He’d turned to look at you as you slowly approached, and said it was good to see you again. It had taken everything in you not to break down at that very moment.

So he’s alive, then, and Minho is too. Hypothetically, the rest of the boys you’ve been slowly ferrying out are with them. In reality, you have no idea if any of them managed to survive past the edge of the city, but you can hope. That’s all any of you have at this point, hope that someday, you’ll all live past WCKD’s imposed expiration date.

There is, of course, the idea that once the last of them leave, you’ll be left alone with the organization you’ve been steadily betraying, but truth be told, you thought you’d be found out long before the last of Newt’s crew left, so that decision was never going to be yours to make anyway.

Newt doesn’t care about that, though. Newt has told you that he’d break into WCKD headquarters all by himself if you were captured or discovered. So of course it makes sense that Newt is the one to look you in the eyes at last and ask when– not if, but when– you’d be leaving with the rest of them.

You let out a shaky breath. “I wasn’t under the impression that I would be going with you.”

Newt reacts as if you’ve slapped him. “Why wouldn’t you? You don’t believe in WCKD anymore. Burn them to the ground one last time, then leave with us.”

You sigh. “I would be abandoning the only life I’ve ever known. If I leave, WCKD would know for certain that I’d betrayed them, if they haven’t figured it out already. They have evidence of dozens of murders I’ve committed. If they wanted to, they could release that information and have the police drag me back to them. WCKD doesn’t like it when their experiments try to run away.”

You learned that lesson well enough with Thomas. Newt’s jaw locks at the mention of what WCKD had done to you, but he manages to keep his cool. “Exactly why you should leave. Where we’re going, no one will find us. It’s wild land in the middle of nowhere. There’s a total maze of forest cutting off outside access. We’ve got farmland and a big house for all of us. It’ll be a simpler life than we’re used to leading, sure, but no one can find us there. You’ll be safe, Y/N. We all will.”

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the fierce hope in his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” Newt says decisively. “We’re so close, Y/N. Most of us are gone, only a few left. Promise me that you’ll go with us when the last of us leave. Maybe we can fake our deaths or something to stop them from looking. Just promise me you won’t let me leave alone.”

Promises are dangerous. They have a way of being broken. Still, you nod, and press your fingers against his when Newt takes your hand. “I’ll do it. I promise.”

A sunrise of a smile splits Newt’s face. “I’m holding you to that.”

You hope against everything that he does. To be honest, hearing him talk, you almost think that you could do it; make it out alive. The last few kids are shipped out of the city, and then Newt meets up with you, says that only he and Gally are left. It’s time to go. You agree to meet him that night to run. You haven’t let your hopes truly rise all this time, but it’s impossible to avoid now. A life without killing. It seems like a dream, but it might be yours after all.

And then, a few hours before you’re scheduled to meet Newt to leave the city behind, you get a call from WCKD saying they want to meet with you to discuss recent progress. You text Newt from a burner phone telling him that you might be late and to go on without you if you take too long. You know he won’t, but the comforting lie that he might make it out without getting caught up in your capture carries you to WCKD.

Your heels click on the tiled floor. You know everyone here, you have since you were small. That fact used to fill you with pride; after years of watching people get replaced, you alone stayed, along with Teresa. You had what it took to put your life on the line and keep going. You were the best of the best.

Now, it just seems like another betrayal. How could all of those people watch you grow up and still condone what they had forced you to do? You try to imagine making Chuck go out and hunt down kids his age. It makes you sick to your stomach. All of these people are complicit in the blood caking your hands, and they will never, ever be accountable for it.

You’re certain that they must know what you’ve done. You walk to the conference room in a haze. Newt is on the other side of the city by now. Maybe he’s already out. Maybe they’re all out. If there was one good thing you did in your life, you couldn’t be more proud that it was for him. After years of senseless death, you saved the lives of other mutants just like you. It won’t be enough to wash your ledger clean, but it’s a start. It’s a shame it’s all over now. No more chances to improve. Just one last opportunity to die.

You walk into the meeting room and take the only empty seat. Around you are many familiar faces. Dr. Ava Paige sits at the head of the table, her second in command, a sickly man named Janson at one side, Teresa at the other. Teresa eyes you with no small amount of judgment. How righteous she must feel, knowing that of the three kids who started it all, she alone was capable of carrying out the blessed mission without getting corrupted. How challenging, to wonder why both you and Thomas needed to leave and she could never find a reason why.

Other WCKD officials and high-level agents crowd the ranks. There are only a dozen people in here, maximum, but Ava Paige has chosen them well. They’re all older than you, making the aura in here quite sinister indeed.

Once you’ve sat down and the door closes behind you (do you hear a lock slide shut, or are you just paranoid?), Dr. Paige begins. “We’ve had reason to worry about you, Y/N,” she says. “You’ve always been one of our best agents, but your quotas have been down as of late.”

“By quotas, you mean the people that I’ve killed, correct?” You clarify, sending a ripple of whispers around the room.

Dr. Paige’s face tightens. “I refer to the threats you have eliminated from our glorious city, but if that’s the way you’d like to put it, fine. You have killed fewer times, yes. Why?”

“Maybe I didn’t find any more threats,” you reply.

Janson arches a brow. “There are always threats. Have you lost your stomach for it?”

You smile, although the expression is cold. “I have a question, Dr. Janson. Why is it always me?”

He frowns. “Pardon?”

“Why is it always me out there in the field?” You repeat. “All of you in this room would rather send a child out to kill inhumans than do it yourselves. Does that ease your conscience? Does it reduce variables of concern for human life if you force a teenager to kill instead of doing it yourself?”

Ava Paige rises to her feet. “Y/N L/N, you have been a part of this organization since the start. I remember when you were fiercely dedicated to the cause. Don’t tell me you’re walking away now because you’ve decided to reinsert morals into the equation. What about the people who will die because you are no longer willing to protect them?”

“I’ll find another way to protect them,” you shoot back, “One that doesn’t involve murdering people just because you think they might one day become a problem.”

“That’s naive and you know it. You can’t leave,” Dr. Paige says, her face bleached pale.

“Why not?” You ask. “Are you afraid that I’ll tell people what you had me do? What will you do to stop me?”

When she remains silent, you realize that it’s not just you who has something to fear from WCKD’s actions becoming public. They’ve sanctioned killing dozens if not hundreds of times. They can’t afford to call you back without letting all of their dirty secrets go, and that is a loophole you will most certainly exploit.

You stand. “I think we’re done here. I am.”

They don’t try to stop you. Teresa, however, runs out the door after you. “Don’t you leave us, Y/N. You know what WCKD means to this city.”

“I know what it means to innocent inhumans who have to fear for their lives every time they leave their homes,” you retort.

She pulls you into an empty room. In the half-light of the nearby windows, her eyes are frantic. “You’re the only one I have left. The only one who believed like I did. You know we have a responsibility to this city.”

“Not like this,” you whisper sadly. “Teresa, you know this isn’t the way. We can still save the world in our own right, but it shouldn’t come at the cost of this much blood. There are other ways.”

“What, like with that little group of mutants you’ve been running around with recently?” Teresa’s voice is shrill, and you feel your blood ice over in your veins. “I know, Y/N. I know everything. I know you’ve been feeding them information. You’ve been working with the enemy all along.”

“Then why haven’t you turned me in yet?” You ask quietly. “That would be what WCKD wanted, to know about moles or liars. Why are you telling me this now?”

She’s silent for a while, then:  “I wanted to know why you would throw all of this away for nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” you tell her. “I made friends there. Real friends, who wanted me to be safe.”

“They’re not your friends, I am. Those are perfect strangers who could be planning to kill you the second you all leave the city. You can’t trust any of them.” Teresa argues.

You look her steadily in the eyes. “Maybe not, but I trust Thomas.”

That finally gets through to her. Teresa rears back. “No. He wouldn’t–”

“He would,” you continue. “I’ve seen him, Teresa. He knows all of my friends. Thomas is the one who wants us to get out alive.”

She shakes her head, but the fight is gone from her eyes, you can see it. “No. That can’t be true.”

“It is, Teresa,” you say, then on a sudden urge, “Come with us. There’s still time. WCKD is going to destroy itself in a matter of months, you know this. I don’t want you there when the whole thing goes up in flames. Come with me. Stay alive.”

You reach out to her, but Teresa backs away slowly. “I can’t abandon the cause,” she whispers.

It hurts like a broken bone, but you can’t say you didn’t see it coming. “Goodbye,” you tell her at last. “Thank you for being my friend.”

She nods once, tight and controlled. “You should go now. Before they try to stop you.”

There is nothing else to say, so you take one last look at her and run. She’s saved you one final time by not turning you in, but she’ll do no more for you from here on out. This is the end of you and her, although if you were going to be honest, you would know that your friendship effectively ended when you first started going against WCKD. Everything past that was a betrayal of your work with her, and Teresa knew it all along but didn’t say a word. She has always been the best at sacrifices, hasn’t she?

You should still have time to get to Newt before their car leaves. He’s probably stalling with everything he has so you can make it to him, and you won’t let him down now. You practically sprint out the door and down the sidewalk, hurtling towards the pickup location. Secrecy doesn’t matter anymore. WCKD caught on to the fact that you no longer want anything to do with them, and they’ll be sending someone after you to kill you soon if they haven’t already.

You whip around a few corners. You’re meeting at the docks one last time, it’s just a few corners down. You take a shortcut across a parking lot, but several dark cars screech into the space behind you just as you enter. WCKD already. You swear under your breath and pick up speed, turning down an alley so they can’t follow you except on foot.

One of your stalkers is crazy enough to run after you. He’s bigger than you, and gains ground quicker than you’d like. You take several quick turns, but can’t shake him. The alley opens up to the docks, and you sprint towards the empty pavement of the loading area. You’ve hardly left the shade of the alleys behind when someone collides with you from behind, sending both of you toppling to the ground.

You shove the man off of you, staggering to your knees to come eye to eye with Janson. “Experiments can’t leave,” he growls. “We’ll learn from your bones if not your missions.”

He draws a gun from his belt and points it at you. “Come with me, now. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. I can collect your corpse if that’s easier.”

You wonder if Newt is still here, if he can hear you. You hope that he’s already gone. It’ll be far worse for him to watch you die. He’s already watched too many of his friends lose their lives to WCKD, you cannot be another one.

You hold up your hand slowly. “Don’t do something you’d regret.”

“I should be telling you that,” Janson snarls.

You wait for him to be distracted trying to move across the uneven ground, then lunge for the ground, shooting a web at his hand to muffle the trigger. He shifts at the last second, and the spider web hits the trigger instead, sending a rogue shot against the side of a nearby shipping container instead of you.

You duck on instinct, rolling away in case he tries to shoot again. Janson looks half mad as he aims at you again. “You can’t leave us,” he says, “We made you. You cannot abandon your creators.”

There’s a shadow moving somewhere behind him. With a chill, you realize you know who it is. Newt doesn’t know that Janson has reinforcements; although they’re still a little behind, they’ll catch up soon enough. You cannot afford for Newt to be caught, not now.

You shout as loud as you can, “Don’t do it! You have to run!”

Janson glances at you, confused. “Who are you talking to?”

You ignore him, calling again to the shifting mass of shadows steadily growing darker by the edge of the shipping containers. “You have to go! Leave me!”

“No,” answers the darkness slithering across the ground, forming into a massive monster behind Janson.

Janson whips around, and his eyes grow large at the sight of Newt’s monster. It snarls at him, displaying rows of wickedly sharp teeth. He tries to shoot, but the monster grabs the gun with one muscular hand, forcing it away and snapping several of the bones in Janson’s hand at the same time.

Janson screams in pain. “This is what you leave us for, Y/N? This monster? You’re no better than everyone you killed. You’ll always be a disease upon this earth.”

“Actually,” the monster corrects, “You are.”

Before your eyes, the shadows start to run away from Newt all at once, but instead of disappearing like normal, they coalesce onto Janson instead. Janson’s head is flung back as the monster enters him, eyes shot with dark veins. When it’s over, Janson is comatose on the ground, arms and face shadowed with the monster, and Newt is running over to you, human, anxiously searching you for any sign of harm.

“I’m fine,” you promise him, “But– what did you do?”

“I gave it up,” Newt says wryly. “I didn’t need the hate anymore. I just needed you to be alive.”

At last, you understand. Newt needed the monster so he could protect his friends from WCKD, but that’s over now. The last car is about to leave, and then the city, the dying, all of it will be a nightmare that has finally ended.

He grabs your hand. “We need to hurry. Jorge’s waiting, but he won’t want to stick around much longer.”

You run with him towards the waiting car. Gally’s in shotgun, and although he’s always sworn that he doesn’t need any of you, you swear he almost smiles in relief when he sees you and Newt slide in. “Way to cut it close, you guys,” he admonishes you.

Newt rolls his eyes. “We’re here now, aren’t we? Let’s go.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” Jorge says, and pulls away into the night.

You watch the dock disappear behind you into a web of roads and street lights. You thought it would be impossible somehow, leaving, like there would be an invisible wall to keep you here. When the lights of the city fade into a dim skyline, then vanish behind the safety of miles of distance crossed, you realize at last that you’ve done it, you’ve left. Now, all that exists for you is a wild dream of a simple life, one with your friends where no one tries to hunt you down.

Newt takes your hand and squeezes it. “We’re out,” he says.

“We’re out,” you repeat in somewhat of a daze. “Where are we going again? What’s that place where everyone’s waiting?”

Newt chuckles. “It’s a bit of a mess right now. It’s just us in the middle of nowhere, but that’s the way we like it. Thomas managed to acquire a property surrounded by parkland so no one could build nearby. It’s just us. Nice place, though. Lots of green space. We’re thinking about calling it the Glade.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “The Glade. I like that.”

It sounds good. It sounds, at last, like a quiet end to your otherwise violent story. Sometimes, though, quiet isn’t always bad. It lets you know that you’re alive, that you made it. Quiet tells you that you’re going to be okay.

first part requested by @thornyrose463

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[noodyl-blasstal]

With no apology to Stephanie Meyer

Day 8 of @taznovembercelebration and I got "vampire AU" and "ignore" - obviously this was the only way to go, short and stupid. (Yesterday's is here)

--

“Ignore my teeth.”

“Your fangs, you mean?”

“They’re just teeth, Taako.”

“Oh, right, so you just hate all teeth and want everyone to ignore them, do you? Do you hate my teeth? I thought you said I was handsome!” Taako’s going to get his answer, whether he has to bully Kravitz into it by talking at him or not.

“This isn’t ignoring them.” Kravitz is covering his mouth with his hand in a valiant effort to prevent Taako from paying attention to the fact he’s apparently a fucking vampire.

“It seems prudent…” Taako muses. Not moving out of Kravitz’s lap. “... to ask about them.”

“I don’t think it seems necessary.” Taako wishes Kravitz would take his hands away from his face and put them back on Taako.

“You’ve got a lisp.” Taako giggles in delight at the ridiculousness of it all. He finally gets his hot neighbour into bed, or, well, onto couch, and he’s gained a lisp and some blood sucking powers.

“I haven’t got a lisp!” Lisped Kravitz.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, just different to usual. It’s nice, still you, and I like you.” Taako moves his hands back to Kravitz’s chest. The sooner they talk about it, the sooner they can get back to what they were doing before.

“You should be afraid, not teasing me. I’m a monster, Taako.”

Taako leans backwards so far that he nearly falls to the ground laughing. Kravitz has to guide him back against his chest with one hand. He’s fairly sure there’s tears streaming down his face. “Oh, oh, shall I go google the word vampire very dramatically. Go on, tell me to hold tight.”

“Fuck off spider money.” Kravitz says. Then adds, tentatively, “you’ve never going to let me forget this are you?”

“Not… a… fucking chance.” Taako squeezes out between laughter. “Fuck me, do you glitter as well? Please tell me I’m going to be boning my own personal disco ball? That’d be rad as hell.”

“We don’t sparkle.” Kravitz is sullen, but not Cullen, thank the gods. The thought of anyone watching him sleep makes Taako feel itchy.

“So you are a vampire then?”

“No?” Asks Kravitz, lacking any ounce of conviction.

“Fuck, wait, is this why you won’t eat anything I bake for you? I thought you were playing hard to get!”

“And it worked?” Kravitz sounds baffled at the prospect, “surely you just thought it was rude?”

“I thought it meant you were interested.”

“I am.” Kravitz nods towards their relative positions to reinforce the point.

“In draining me dry?”

“Not of blood.”

Taako snorts out an extremely undignified laugh. “Hold up, are you using my fear of getting murdered to death to hit on me?”

“Is it working?”

“Kinda.” Kravitz was exceedingly hot, and Taako simply has to assume that vampire powers mean that he’s got super strength that they can use irresponsibly.

“It shouldn’t be. You should be worried.”

Taako draws his lips closed. He really shouldn’t start humming Claire de Lune right now, but the temptation is strong.

“You’re comparing this to Twilight again aren’t you?”

“This is the skin of a killer, Taako.” Taako says in the gruffest voice he can muster.

Kravitz thunks his head back onto the sofa in frustration. “I’m just trying to be sensible. You should probably be a bit worried.” He says to the ceiling.

Kravitz is probably right… Taako should probably ask more questions and not use the opportunity to kiss his way across Kravitz’s collar bone and up his neck, but, you know, he’s right there and he’s topless and Taako is only one human man with a normal amount of resolve.

“I mean, I want you to, like, give me a brief run down? But Taako’s gonna keep doing this while you reel off the headlines - that work for you?” Taako punctuates the question with kisses, spreading them across Kravitz’s chest.

“You doing that is not going to help with, you know, the whole concentration thing.”

“Then talk fast.” Taako grazes his teeth against Kravitz’s neck, delights in the way Kravitz involuntarily shifts his hips in response.

“I’m a vampire.”

“Wait, what?” Taako feigns surprise and looks wide eyed at Kravitz. “A vampire? In my house? I’m shocked! Surprised!”

“Taako!”

“Fiiiiiine.” Taako rolls his thumb across Kravitz’s nipple, relishes the surprised noise it pulls from him. “You were saying.”

“I’m a vampire.”

Taako sucks gently at Kraitz’s collar bone, open mouthed and gentle, laves his tongue across the skin there. “Mmhm.”

“Have been for a while.”

He shouldn’t… he really shouldn’t… “How long have you been seventeen?”

“Taako, please.”

“Yeah, no, okay, sorry, if you were seventeen this would not be happening, no matter how old you actually were. That one was bad.”

“Thank you.” Kravitz waits to see if Taako has any more interruptions planned. He does, but Kravitz doesn’t need to know what they are quite yet. “It’s been like 5…ish years?”

Taako noses against Kravitz’s neck. “Talk faster.”

“I don’t eat people, there’s a blood bank guy, and I promise I won’t kill you.”

“Good enough for Taako.”

“We’re doing this?”

Taako pulls Kravitz down into a kiss.”This isn’t contagious as long as we use protection, right?”

Kravitz looks at him like he’s finally lost it. “Are you suggesting tooth condoms?”

“Taako’s not not suggesting them.”

“I… you…”

Taako’s face must give him away.

“You’re not serious?”

“Nope! But you know what cha’boy is serious about?”

“I think there’s a strong chance I should be concerned about whatever you’re going to say.”

“Investigating the contents of these.” Taako dips his hand below the waistband of Kravitz’s trousers. It doesn’t seem like he’s in any danger and he’s been hitting on Kravitz for months, it’s time to get them back on track.

“Promise you’ll stop referencing Twilight?”

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.” Taako probably can’t push this much further, but also, how many opportunities is he going to get?

Kravitz snorts loudly. “Okay, that was the last one.”

“I’m glad I amuse you.” Maybe he won’t get that one, how closely did he study the source material?

“You’re the worst.” Kravitz says, and kisses him.

--

Check out tomorrow's prompt here.

[the-kr8tor]

It's my birthday in two days! So, here's a cute little Hobie HC for you💕

Despite how Hobie looks super punk, he didn't always. Especially when he was in high school. The tall, lanky 15 year old shuffled through the halls of the crowded school, thick glasses slipping down his nose every so often. Scuffed and beaten up sneakers on his feet getting stepped on buly several people as he squeezed his way through, pulling the fraying bookbag tighter on his shoulders. He scowled as he was pushed into a nearby locker, the loose button-up he was wearing snagging on the corner. Hobie, now irritated, pushes away from the locker, only to groan with irritation at the small rip he hears from the action. It's times like these where he really hates hand-me-downs.

Hobie whips a glare towards the person who pushed him, only for his mouth to drop open in shock. There you stand before him, all spikes, chains, black leather, and bright colors. The platform boots on your feet make you nearly eye level to him. Hobie can see the sincerity glimmering in your eyes, an apologetic smile on your dark, lipstick stained lips. And now your saying something, your lips moving as you look up at him. He's not sure, unable to register anything except for the fact that you look damn amazing. So unlike anyone he normally sees roaming these hallways.

Shaking his head, Hobie clears his throat, an almost nervous smile on his lips.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't quite catch that.." He says, cursing himself at the small crack of his voice. If you heard it, you don't comment on it, offering him a knowing smile.

"It's alright. Apologies for bumping into you there. I can fix your shirt up for you if you'd like."

Hobie's taken aback, again. You dress like a straight up rockstar and you're nice?? He can feel the way his heartbeat quickens in his ears. It was like he knew then and there, that you were gonna be an important part of his life. And you were. From that moment on, you two were inseparable. You were a breath of fresh air for him, going against society norms and doing your own thing. You became his beacon, his muse, his role model. And, Hobie became the same for you. You admired how he stood up for himself and his beliefs, no matter how hard things got. Hobie was smart, insanely so, and it made you admire him even more.

And when Hobie got bit by that spider, it furthered your adoration for him. Even if he denied it heavily, he was the symbol of hope for many, especially you. For all that you were to each other, it was a wonder why it took so long for him to properly make a move years later when you'd entered college. It was after one of his shows, his chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline from the rush of performing. You were cheering so loud for him and the band, waiting excitedly for him backstage.

And maybe it was because he was still buzzing with energy and confidence from the roaring crowd. Or perhaps it was the way you looked absolutely exquisite wearing the choker he made you and the leather jacket that he'd copped just for you to match his. Whatever it was, it made him rush off the stage towards you, arms circling your waist and pulling you flush to his chest. His lips pressed against yours, soft and gentle despite how hurriedly he'd done so. You gripped his shirt, damp with sweat, as he pulled away in shock of his own actions and pulled him back in for another kiss. Hobie didn't seem to mind, not one bit as he pulled you even closer.

This was partially made cuz I saw someone say something about "Loser Hobie". He'd definitely be a loser in high school😭💕

OMG ADVANCED HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU MY AO3 BESTIE ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you have a great one!

AOZBQISJWBDPWQWW LOSER HOBIE!!! he was so scrunkly back then!!! (Literally my type back in hs lmaooooo) I'd like to think this is like a reverse ttn au! R saying that they can mend it for him reminded me of it

Squeaky voice Hobie!! What a cutie!!!

BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS!!! THEY GREW UP TOGETHER AND DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER 😍😍😍

The backstage kiss omfg 🥴🥴