#can’t wait to see all his new gadgets

[fizzytoo]

no exactly i know he’s a hit in the wannabe hipster crowd and i’m cheering him on are those his thieves tools on his fucking sword holster (he’s everything)

[ateliersss]

Part 1 - He Will Come

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: You were caught three days after you and your son's arrival on earth by an organization called Project Stargazer. Now you both were treated like guinea pigs. No wonder, considering said son was a hybrid of human and Yautja. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 4,126

You had been stupid, so stupid. You should have listened to Mi'ytiar, should have listened to him when he told you to stay on the ship during your stay on earth while your son went hunting. You had insisted on coming with him, as you desperately wanted to see your home planet again.

Not that you missed it. You loved Mi'ytiar, loved to be his mate, loved your life with him, your son and the new life you had on Yautja Prime.

You had just wanted to get out of the ship, get some fresh air, and see the full moon, which you couldn't see in your new home, when you suddenly were surrounded by soldiers. You didn’t even think about defending yourself, not in your condition. You had let it happen when they grabbed you and put you roughly in one of the black SUVs.

So many questions swirled around in your mind — how did they found you? What about the ship? What did they want with you? Would they hurt you? And what about Akail? Was he hurt?

You hadn’t dared to ask the armed men who were in the car with you. They all had looked at you with different emotions on their faces — disgust, curiosity, anger. One of them wore a grin that made your skin crawl.

When they arrived at their base, you were dragged through many corridors and were examined by — and you thanked God for that — female doctors. They took your blood, forced your into a strange suit, and put you into a completely white room.

Now you sat in a corner, huddled together. The door was in the middle of the wall on the other side of the room. A camera hung in the corner across from you from the ceiling and had an overview of the entire room. It reminded you of an interrogation room with windows to the left and right of the door, which looked like a mirror from the inside but allowed a glimpse into the room from the outside. A table and two chairs were standing in the middle.

You had pulled your legs to your chest as much as your swollen belly would allow, and your head leaned sideways against the wall.

It’s gonna be okay, you thought to yourself, everything’s gonna be fine.

You didn't know if you were trying to calm yourself down or your pup, who could sense your agitation and responded to you with kicking. You sat up straight in a cross-legged position, wrapped your arms protectively around your belly and caressed it soothingly.

Don’t worry, little one. Your daddy will get us out of here, he and your mei’hswei. We’ll be home soon. We can’t wait to meet you.

Not far from you, Sean Keyes greeted Casey Bracket. “There you are!” He said as soon as Casey stepped out of the elevator. “Welcome, I–“

Before he could continue, Casey walked straight past him to look at the two metal helmets and something that looked like a gun, everything displayed behind thick glass. None of it was human.

“Alien technology… Is that what you wanted me to see?” Casey's eyes wandered to the other showcases that displayed more weapons and equipment. “Can I take a better look at it?”

“Ahh.” Sean laughed, “But you haven’t even seen the main attraction.”

Casey tore her gaze from an interesting looking spear engraved with intriguing carvings and looked up at Sean. He had climbed the few steps that led to a glass wall overlooking a mix of operating room and laboratory and gestured with his head for her to follow him.

Quickly joining him, they both looked down and into the room. It was occupied by many people who, from their appearance, were scientists. There were guards, eight in total, guarding all four doors. Screens hung on the walls and desks carried computers and strange gadgets.

The only thing that got Casey’s complete attention was the table in the middle of the room and especially what was on it.

“Doctor Bracket.”

Casey looked away from the creature and at the man who had spoken to her.

“Would you like to meet the Predator?”

Yes, that’s exactly what she wanted.

Still processing what she had just seen, she followed Sean Keyes into the decontamination chamber. She was giving a suit that looked similar to the ones the scientists were wearing in the laboratory. The decontamination process didn't take long and she quickly slipped into the suit.

“Thanks for coming.” The dark-skinned man, Will Traeger, said to Casey as soon as the lab door opened and shook her hand. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“If I’m honest, only two.” Casey answered and followed the man down the stairs. “Why do you call it the Predator?”

They came to a halt in front of the table the creature was lying on.

“It’s a nickname. You know, the data suggests that it tracks its prey, exploits weakness. It seems to, well, enjoy it. It’s like a game.”

“That’s not a Predator. That’s a sports hunter.”

“Sorry?”

“A Predator kills its prey to survive. I mean, what you’re describing is more like a bass fisherman.” Casey simply answered, taking a step closer to the table.

“Well, we took a vote. Predator sounds cooler, right?” Will laughed and received approval from the surrounding scientists. “We found him, then his ship and more. He’s heavily sedated.”

Casey had long stopped listening to him. She was completely absorbed by the creature, or Predator, taking in every inch of it. The physique indicated that it was a male. His height had to be around 7 feet. He had greenish skin that resembled reptilian-like scales. Its head was big and oval in shape. Instead of hair, what appeared to be dreadlocks grew out of it. His mandibles were the most eye-catching feature about him.

Could they be used for defense? And how did the food intake work?

She noticed that even unconscious, he was making a sound that closely resembled a cat's purring.

“You are one beautiful motherfucker.” She finally said.

“I’m gonna guess your second question is why you’re here.”

Casey looked up to Will and signaled him with a nod to continue.

“Our test results yielded something a little… odd.”

Sean, standing next to Casey, handed her a device. She looked back and forth between the two men before accepting it. The screen showed a more complex DNA structure than that of a human, without a doubt that of the Predator.

“Is this a joke?” She questioned in disbelief.

“We ran the genome sequence ten times. This specimen has–“

“–human DNA.” Casey finished stunned.

“Yeah.” Will nodded, “Look, we know about spontaneous speciation. Mostly plants and insects but–“

“But some mammals. The Red Wolf, for example, a hybrid of the coyote and the grey wolf.” Sean interrupted him this time.

“It’s possibly some form of recombinant technology.” Will added.

“I get it. You want to know if someone fucked an alien.” Casey summed it up, finally knowing her purpose here.

“Not necessarily.”

Casey looked questioningly at Will. "Meaning?"

“Meaning, we have a rough idea. We would just like to know the detailed procedure.”

Casey's eyes widened and she looked at him in bewilderment. “You don't seriously expect a woman to procreate with that thing. There's no way that–“

“Oh, there is no need for that.” Sean assured her, “His equipment led us to his ship. We found it, but not only that.” He turned to the largest screen in the room and nodded to a man who started typing on his computer and turned the screen on. It showed some kind of interrogation room.

It wasn't long before Casey spotted a woman sitting cross-legged on the floor, slowly rocking back and forth.

“Are you trying to tell me that this is…”

“His mother, yes.” Will confirmed her thought. “His DNA matches with hers. Even through the father’s genetic heritage is more dominant than hers, you can still see differences between this one–“ He nodded to unconscious alien, “–and a homozygous Predator.”

“Wow.” Casey mumbled and returned her gaze to the screen.

The woman now walked in circles through the room, stroking — and the biologist had to do a double take — her growing stomach.

Holy hell, she was pregnant!

Casey watched her mouth moving, so either she was singing or talking to the baby.

“Wow indeed. And not only that, her human DNA has been altered to resemble that of the Predator.”

“We believe it’s a kind of adaptation to the living conditions of his home planet.” Sean started, “According to the blood tests, and we did several because we didn't want to believe the results, this woman is 73 years old, although she looks to be in her mid-20s.”

Casey’s mouth fell open, her heart pounding against her rib cage. “I want to meet her.”

He nodded and smiled at her. “That was the plan. No one has spoken to her yet, not even the nurse who brought her food or was taking her to the bathroom.”

“While science can answer many questions and give us great insight into our being, there are still things that remain unanswered.” Will added, "We don't know when she left Earth or how it was possible for her to reproduce with an alien. We don't know how her DNA changed, and because of that, we don't even know who she is.”

Casey nodded. “And you want me to get the answers to those questions from her?”

“Indeed.”

Casey was watching you through the one-way window. You were still pacing, one hand supporting your back and the other stroking your stomach in a circular motion. Even though you seemed nervous and scared, you also looked like a proud lioness ready to attack to protect her baby.

“Ready?” Sean asked.

Casey looked briefly at him and nodded.

“Great. We will wait here to watch and listen. In her condition I doubt she will attempt anything for the sake of her child, but if she does it will only take a second and security will rush the room.”

“Good to know.” She mumbled before heading to the door.

With a deep breath, she pushed down the door handle.

You caught that movement in the corner of your eye and turned to the intruder. “What have you done to him?!” You immediately demanded hysterically, growling at her like a wild animal. “Where did you take him? Where did you take my son?”

It was good that Casey was the first to speak to you. Probably no one out there had the slightest decency to treat you like a real person and would have strapped you to a table, too, careless of harm to you or your child.

“They took him to a lab and are holding him there. Nobody hurt him, I swear it.” Casey said, raising her hands to show you she meant no harm. “They just want to know more about him and his kind and why he is here, that’s all.”

You stared at her, softly caressing your belly as you pondered her words.

When there was no reply, Casey continued, “I just want to talk to you. We want to know how you… why you…”

“Why I got knocked up by an alien?” You suggested bluntly.

Casey nodded. “Yes. It’s practically unthinkable to come across an alien hybrid and its mother.”

“Where I went after his father took me from Earth, it’s more of a rarity than unthinkable.”

Casey took a step forward and hastily asked, “Do you mean you're not the only one? Are there other humans who procreate with them? Are they also studying hybrids and their traits?”

You laughed at her eagerness and walked over to the chair closest to you, sitting down on it. You waved your hand at Casey to do the same, as if you were hinting you were going to cooperate to answer her questions. The biologist glanced back over her shoulder at the reflective window where Sean and Will were watching the conversation. She sat down in the chair opposite of you and looked at you expectantly.

“Before I say another word, I want to see that my son is okay.” You demanded, trying to suppress the tremor in your voice, the very first sign of weakness.

Casey turned back to the windows and waited for someone to come through the door. Instead, the reflective surfaces of the windows turned into screens showing one and the same image — the captured Predator, still tied to the table and asleep.

There was a whimper coming from behind her. When she turned back, she saw tears building up in your eyes and one hand pressed to your mouth. It was surreal to Casey for a human having such an emotional reaction for an alien creature. On the other hand, this was his mother, unbelievable and absurd as it may seem.

You seemed to calm down, your eyes still fixed on the screen. You nodded to yourself before tearing your eyes away to look at Casey. The windows had returned to its normal state.

“We’re going to start with some easy questions, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Great. First I would like to know your name.”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You answered.

“Would it be okay if I call you (Y/N)?”

“I would appreciate it.” You said, “It's a nice change from all the other names I've gotten so far.”

“What do you mean?” Casey inquired.

“Alien fucker. Alien whore. Desperate little bitch who thought a man’s dick isn’t enough for her. Nothing I didn't expect from men.” You shrugged, “It just proves once again that Yautja males treat their females with far more respect and honor than a human male could ever comprehend.”

“Yautja?” Casey asked, leaning forward, arms crossed on the tabletop.

“You call them Predator, but their kind is actually called Yautja.” You explained.

Casey nodded and started to play with her fingers, her next question burning on her tongue. “How did you get into this whole thing? How did you get in contact with them?”

You huffed. “It’s quite ironic, you know. On the contrary what you may have expected, he saved me.”

“Saved you from what?”

“Again, men. Three of them. They had cornered me, kept groping me, pulled on my clothes…” You had to pause for a second.

Almost 50 years ago, you had been afraid when Mi'ytiar had taken you from Earth to bring you to Yautja Prime. But looking back, that fear hadn't been as great as what you felt at the thought of what those men would have done to you if he hadn't intervened.

“He protected me from those monsters… my own kind.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yautja take their prey as a trophy after each successful hunt. Not only did he rip their heads off and their spines out, he also took me. I expected him to hurt me, to keep me as a slave, or... or to do what these men wanted to do to me. I found out later that I was really lucky that he, of all other Yautja, rescued me. It's incredibly rare that one of them takes an interest in a human being. Usually, they kill every last of them. Humans are too weak and too soft, but that’s exactly what he loves about me. That’s why he kept me alive.”

You let out sigh, considering how much you should reveal about the Yautja culture.

“On the contrary to me, a Yautja female is rough and large, even larger than a male. After all, they are the ones who carry their offspring and ensure the survival of their kind. The males have to fight for dominance and if the male wins, the female deems him worthy enough for mating and submits.”

Casey shifted in her seat. “Did you… Did he expect the same from you? Did he force you into submission to…?”

“Never.” You growled protectively, “He never forced himself onto me. Never. He was more patient and understanding than all the human males I ever met in my life. He treated me like I was the most precious thing he has ever seen. Never did he touch me without my permission.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Casey soothed you.

She had to be more careful and had to see this whole situation through your eyes — you were separated from your son and held at a facility who was examining you both while you had to worry about your unborn baby.

“Do you want to tell me about your relationship with him? Your, uhm…”

“He is my mate. My Life Mate.”

“Life Mate?”

“Female Yautja can mate with multiple males and give birth to their children, but some also choose a permanent mate. You could compare it to one-night-stands and marriage, only you can't divorce. It's not called Life Mate for nothing. You are bonded to each other for the rest of your life and they live for hundreds of years.”

“Can I know the name of your Life Mate?”

You eyed Casey briefly, looked over her shoulder at the reflective windows then at the camera in the corner and then back at her. “His name is Mi'ytiar. He is the leader of his clan.”

Casey sat up straight. “They live in clans? Like wolves in packs or horses in herds?”

You nodded. “With similar hierarchy dynamics, yes. There are many clans on their home planet, each living peacefully on their own. Sometimes clans visit each other, hunt together, celebrate together. That's how I found out that I'm not the only human on this planet.” You said, “But apparently I’m the only one who mated a clan leader. Most of them are expected to have a strong successor to take after them and Mi'ytiar, of all Yautja, chose a weak little human to bear his pups.”

Jackpot, Casey thought.

She finally got to the part that intrigued her the most — how was it humanly possible that you got pregnant, how was it possible for you to carry the child of an alien, and how did it not kill you?

“Since Mi'ytiar has fully committed himself to me, it was up to me to bear his offspring. The Yautja of his clan never dared to say anything. I’m the clan leader's mate, after all. But I noticed it in the way they treated me and looked at me. They knew it wasn’t possible for me to carry his children.” You looked down at your baby bump and returned to caress it. It seemed to keep you calm.

“At that point, that fact made me really upset. I got to know their culture, learned everything there was to know about them. I even started learning their language. I fulfill any task assigned to a clan leader's mate. I make my mate happy and proud. But I couldn’t give him a child.”

You looked up and into Casey’s eyes.

“Mi'ytiar is very attentive and he soon noticed that something was upsetting me. Apparently he was the only one who hadn't thought about his offspring at all.” You paused for a second to smile, remembering his reaction when he found out that you wanted to carry his pups. “The second he knew he wanted to keep me around when he took me away from Earth, he injected me with his blood. No matter how many times I've been called fragile and puny, the human immune system can sometimes work wonders. His blood had slowed down my aging and allowed me to survive on his planet. So we visited a healer to finalize my life as his Life Mate.”

Your cheeks flushed as you thought of how Mi'ytiar hadn't hesitated another second to make sure you got pregnant. You had spent several days in your bed, or nest as he called it, and there had been hardly a moment when he wasn't inside you. The thought of his beautiful mate, his love, carrying his pup in her belly had made him feral.

It hadn't been long before his seed took. The other Yautja had a satisfied reaction when they saw that their leader was about to become a father. Also, they finally treated you like a part of the clan. You had fully proved yourself, proved you could provide for the clan. You were finally one of them.

Akail's birth was hard. It felt like he was tearing you apart from the inside out. But thanks to the injections of his blood and the additional help of the tribal healer, your body strengthened enough that you didn't die, even though it felt like it. You were crying and smiling, with your mate at your side, holding your little bundle of joy in your arms.

He looked just like his father, no indication that his mother was human. However, his animalistic features were a little softer, difficult to recognize unless you were the mother. While you are being tended to, Mi'ytiar took his son in his arms to proudly introduce him to his clan.

Fondly, you thought back to one moment, a core memory — Mi'ytiar, lying on his side with you snuggled against him, both naked and partly covered in fur, and little Akail, just ten hours old, resting on your chest. At that point you were so incredibly happy.

It sounded weird and absurd that this was your life and no human would understand, but you would never trade it for anything.

“What’s the catch?” Casey asked after a while of watching you quietly stroking your belly.

“Huh?” You looked up.

“I don't think you're telling us all this without an ulterior motive. So what’s the catch?”

“I want to quench your thirst for scientific knowledge and in return, I hope you will release me and my son. There is no need to keep us here.”

Casey started to rock back and forth in her chair. “I don’t think that will be possible. There are still things that we–“

“Listen, I have cooperated in the hope we will be released when all your questions are answered. You won’t like what will happen if we are not soon to be freed.”

Casey glanced over her shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time, unsure of what to do or what to say.

“I promised him to contact him every day, you know. My mate.” You said, pride permeating your body. “And do you know what it will tell him? The silence?” Your question was obviously rhetorical. “It will tell him that something happened to me and therefore also to his son, because Akail would rather die fighting for his mother and Mi'ytiar knows that.”

Casey gulped. The threat was clear as the day.

“He will come and not alone. Do you really think you stand a chance against them?” You laughed, now more confident. “The human nature is arrogant, thinking they are superior to everyone. Eventually that will be the reason for your extinction. Your haughty stupidity will be the death of you.”

“(Y/N)–” Casey tried, but she was interrupted.

“No, you will listen to me just like you've been doing for half an hour now. I have lived among them for decades. I learned from them, I’m one of them. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate and it will end deadly for you. Stand between a Yautja and their Life Mate who’s pregnant and I promise you, you will beg for them to kill you.”

“(Y/N), there is nothing in my power to help you. I was simply asked here as an expert to examine this Yautja… your son. I can’t–”

“You will. And I'm not just talking to you in this case.” Your eyes wandered from her face to the windows and nodded to the people you assumed to be standing behind the glass, watching you. “I’m talking to them, the ones who have the power. Set me and my son free and I promise you nothing will happen to any of you.”

Suddenly, a blaring alarm sounded, startling both Casey and you.

Instinctively, you wrapped an arm around your stomach in a protective manner.

“Code Red. Subject Predator is on the loose.”

A shuddering sigh of relief left your lips as you slowly began to smile. You knew they couldn’t keep Akail immobilized for long.

One of the things he had in common with his father was that he was just as protective over you as he was. He would come to look for you.

Casey had already jumped out of her chair and was talking frantically to the people on the other side of the one-sided window.

You began to talk to your pup again, “Your mei'hswei is coming, sweetling. Soon the three of us will be back with daddy.”

continue with the second part He Is Here.

[monstersflashlight]

idk if you want to make this a full on fic but I was just imagining trinket fairy reader with a dragon idk you wanna make it Platonic or not up to you, but I didn't imagine much only those two as pairings and how they might possibly bond

Sorry if it's really vague and not giving you much of an idea 😭

Love you and your writing ♥

Thank you! Means a lot. <3 Mmmmm I like your idea. I’m thinking of fairy and dragon with multiple forms, so in this piece they are in their more human-ish form, but the size difference is still big. Like he can be a basketball player kinda tall, and she can be like 30-40 cm shorter. Like BIG size difference, and lots of banter. I think It would be really fun to see them interact regarding his hoard. The idea of a trinket fairy taking all his things just to use them for gadgets and building new crazy stuff while driving him crazy, but not really bc he’s deeply in love with her… Peak storytelling. So yeah, that’s where my head is at with your idea, but make it spicy. Hope you like it!

Restaurant delight

Dragon x fairy fem!reader || teasing, banter, semi-public sex

You were having a dinner date, mandatory by his strict standards of what a relationship meant. You thought it was really funny how insistent he was about taking you out at least twice a month. He told you it was to keep the romance alive, and you didn’t mind, you liked to show off your big hunk of a dragon boyfriend.

“You need to stop taking things from my hoard,” he told you out of the blue as you were reaching for some garlic bread. You blinked slowly up at him, your wings twitching behind you.

“No.” You munched on some bread as he sputtered beside you.

“Wh-what? What do you mean no?” He looked confused and annoyed, a purple-ish blush creeping on his blue skin.

“What’s the point of having a dragon boyfriend if I can’t use your stuff to build cool gadgets?” Your logic was perfect. He had tons of stuff, you liked stuff. You took stuff, you build stuff. Easy, simple.

“I- You- No. They are my precious possessions,” he tried to argue.

“I took a plastic car.” You sent him an are you kidding me look. You didn’t want to be mean, but you also knew he really didn’t care that much about the things you took from his hoard. He had a ton of stuff, most of it he didn’t even know was there.

“It was shiny!” His exclamation made you want to giggle, but you referred, biting your tongue as you looked up at him. Dang, why was he so damn tall, you had to look up even when you were sitting down. Damn hot dragons and their incredible height.

“You didn’t know you had it until I took it,” you counterattacked.

“I- Please, stop.” His tone was sincere, but you also knew him too well. He wasn’t really trying to argue with you. Someone was horny and wanted some fun banter to get you riled up. He knew you always wanted harder and faster when he argued with you beforehand. It wasn’t the healthiest approach to your sex-life, but it was fun as fuck.

“Does it really bother you so much?” You asked, trying to sound sincere and innocent, not playing into his game. He loved to rile you up, but you loved to be a brat about it even more.

You knew it worked when he looked at you confused. “I- Yes?”

“Is that a question?” You kept munching on the bread, completely nonchalant about his alleged annoyance.

“No?” You bit down on the bread to keep from smiling at him. “Okay. Okay. I just… I like my hoard.” His statement was lost when his face got even more purple. He was embarrassed, and he looked so fucking adorable you wanted to coo at him.

“I like it, too. I’ll stop if it bothers you… Or we could make a deal.” Your flirty smile wasn’t lost on him, who looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes.

“What deal?” His big wings twitched behind him, a telltale sign that he was getting nervous, anticipation probably filling him.

You munched on some bread and waited patiently until he was drinking a bit of water before telling him: “You allow me to take stuff from your hoard and I suck your dick.” He choked on the water and started coughing loudly.

You patted his big back, “accidentally” touching the base of his wings, the area you knew perfectly well made him lose his mind when caressed. Your fingers lingered a bit there, as he regained control of his breathing. He shuddered at the contact.

He looked at you with fire in his eyes, you lowered your hand and rested it on his thigh. “I bet I could even do it here,” you murmured. You didn’t give him time to react before your hand was over his growing erection, making him squirm under your touch and flush heavily again. He was adorable.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered, his pulse picking up as you licked your lips looking straight at him. He shivered visibly and the hardness under your hand twitched.

“You like that? You like the idea of me sucking your dick in a restaurant’s bathroom, big guy?” You knew you hit a nerve when his wings fluttered, almost hitting the poor waitress as he walked pass your table. He apologized profusely as you squeezed his dick. He looked back at you angrily, but he didn’t stop you. His flushed skin was so bright you wanted to kiss him senseless, but you were already thinking in other stuff, spicier stuff.

You were about to open his fly to get some skin to skin contact when the waitress arrived with your food. Your hand never left his clothed dick, rubbing softly as you cheerfully talked to her. Your boyfriend was a stiff form next to you, his big hand resting over yours, but not stopping you.

You ate with one hand and left the other over his dick, absently stroking him as you kept the conversation flowing. “Act normal or people will realize,” you instructed. He looked around panicked. You giggled and kept telling him about your day, and what new gadget you created. When he whimpered, you decided it was time you made good on your deal. “Go to the bathroom,” you instructed. You took your hand away from his dick and smiled when he got up fast. There was a wet patch in his pants. He covered it with a hand, but not fast enough for your eyes. “I’ll see you there in a few.” You smirked at him as he almost ran to the bathroom.

You followed a few minutes later, slowly making your way to the restroom, checking there wasn’t anybody around before entering the man’s bathroom. He was pacing the tiny space when you opened the door. You pushed his big chest until he was sitting down on the toilet. You positioned yourself between his knees and fell to your kneed before him. He whimpered.

You took him out of his pants and slowly started mouthing him over his underwear, making a mess of it. Making a mess of him. His head was thrown back, and the precious shimmer of his scales was making you itch to touch him. You took him out of his underwear and went right for it. He wasn’t expecting it and let out a loud shriek when your tiny mouth tried to stretch around his tip. You both know there was no way his dick could fit inside your mouth, but you could be smart about it.

You played with his tip for a bit, but realizing you didn’t have that much time before someone thought you bailed without paying the check. You grabbed him with both hands and started a fast pace up and down, sucking the underside of his dick and making him whimper. He was looking at the ceiling when you asked: “So, do we have a deal?” He looked down at you, dick still against your lips, and groaned, his dick twitching. You stopped moving your hands when he didn’t answer.

“Yes. Yes. Whatever you want. Take whatever you like.” You smirked up at him as your wings fluttered behind you. Seeing him so gone was turning you on like crazy. You couldn’t wait to get him home and ride him.

You lowered your head and started a punishing pace with your hands as you latched into his tip and started licking and sucking and doing everything in your power to make him lose his mind. “Good boy,” you whispered against his flesh when he shuddered under you. He was so close you could feel the temperature around you rising, his dragon fire so close to the surface. “Come for me,” you ordered, your mouth a few millimeters away from your expecting mouth. He complied instantly. Shooting rope after rope of cum in your open mouth, some of it landing on your lips and making him groan softly.

You swallowed everything he gave you and rested your head against his thigh. “Oh fuck,” he muttered. You looked up in time to see a big black circle on the ceiling. He breathed fire and burned the fucking ceiling. You started laughing so hard that you fell on your ass in front of him. He looked so embarrassed and cute that you laughed harder. “Stop it,” he muttered, his face bright purple.

“Was it that good?” You teased.

He growled at you, without malice. “You know it was. You always are. Your tiny hands and your fucking mouth… Ugh, you drive me crazy.” He picked you up from the floor and devoured your mouth, groaning when he found his own taste there. “Go back out, I’ll wait for a bit.”

You sat down back to your table and smiled at the waitress, she definitely knew what you two did in the bathroom. You didn’t care. You would do it again in a heartbeat. There was nothing better than your boyfriend’s dick. He came back a bit later, still looking embarrassed as he asked for the check and urged you out the door before somebody discovered the big black burn in the bathroom’s ceiling. You laughed all the way out.

You were walking to your car when he told you: “You know I would have let you have all my hoard without any deals, right?” You smirked at him as you walked to the car, an extra movement to your hips that made him groan behind you.

“Yeah. I know. I just wanted to suck your dick.” His footsteps sounded loud against the pavement as he followed you, your wings fluttering again when he embraced you from behind, and turned you around, his hands landing on your ass and pulling you up so he could kiss you properly.

[buckyalpine]

Please please please would you ever think of writing more to wait, what? I love it.

Maybe the group are upset they weren’t their for the wedding so they ask the reader and Bucky to have another one, renewing vows so they call all be there.

Plus the uncle and aunts playing with the baby. Babies first show of super grip.

More babies. How happy Bucky is when she is pregnant again. Maybe twins and they name them after the group; like have a girl so call her Samantha for Sam and a boy who is Nathaniel/Niklaus for nat.

Would love to see Tony as baby 2s godfather. Could totally see him “competing” against Steve. Look I got my Godkid this and that more than steve gave his. Not that it matters as tony fits for best uncle title so he gives everything to baby Stevie anyway :). Etc. Love your writing can’t wait to read your next fic. Anyway How are you? Hope you are well. How do you come up with stories?

YES YES One of my FAVOURITE AUs which I love to keep adding too. I've broken up this ask into parts here:

Wait, what? - 💔🥰 The secret you’ve been keeping from the team can only be hidden for so long (pregnant reader)

Wait, what? 2 -  🔥💔🥰 A little more back story + baby Barnes! (pregnant reader)

I do (again) Wait, what? 3 -  🥰 Everyone missed the first wedding, obviously you have to have another one

Wait, what? More Babies? -  🔥🥰 The family grows with a little new addition

Here is a little drabble with the aunts and uncles being complete menaces because they compete with each other. You shook your head looking at the growing pile of gadgets and toys collecting everywhere. There wasn't a single place where there wasn't a new present from either and aunt or an uncle, your kids spoilt beyond reason.

"Mama look!" Stevie ran into your room with a new shield in hand, proudly showing off the new technology it had been upgraded with from when he first got it. He whistled, grinning when the shield started to rumble before the plates shifted, expanding it to double the size. He had on a special type of watch fitted to his wrist and you couldn't even begin to comprehend what that would lead to.

"Baby, where do we keep all this?"

"In my room!" He scrambled off without looking back, only to have his presence replaced by the twins, each floating into the room with glowing red capes.

"What on earth are you to doing?" You knew better than to try and intervene with whatever it was they were doing, Samantha and Nathaniel giggling while sipping in circles from their latest gift from Aunty Wanda.

"Aunty Wanda charmed it for us!" They squealed, the tiny rocket booster running shoes they had been given from Tony boosting them to the ceiling.

"Get down from there!" You hissed, making your way to the living room to ask each God parent if they were trying to take years away from your life through stress.

"Did you see what I got for the tiny terminators" Tony grinned at Steve, hearing sound of laugher down the hall followed by your exasperated voice. He chuckled when he saw you disheveled form with each twin under your arm, clutching onto them like footballs to keep them from flying off.

"Best. God Father. EVER" Nathaniel grinned while Samantha nodded, trying to squirm from your hold.

"Steve jr got an upgrade too" Steve stated proudly, seeing his god son using his shield to surf down the staircase, causing you to drop one twin and catch your elder son before he face planted onto the floor.

"For F-" You caught yourself before finishing your sentence, both men snickering while you huffed, "I swear, wait till daddy is home" You placed your kids in a pile between their God fathers before going up to take a well deserved bath.

Bucky snorted at the sound of chaos that he heard as he made his way from the gym to your shared bedroom. He didn't want to set food into the living room when his demon spawn and Satan's love child god fathers were together, making his way straight to you instead.

"How are you mama" Bucky whispered softly, seeing the bathroom door left lightly ajar, the scent of lavender filling the room.

"Your children are spoiled Barnes" You peeked one eye open before closing it again, humming when you felt Bucky step into the tub, settling himself behind you.

"And who is spoiling mama?" He smirked, letting a sneaky hand trail down between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin on your neck, "Hm?"

A snap of his fingers was all that was needed to lock the doors and sound proof the walls. He'd already shot a text to Steve before coming to your room.

"You're both babysitting. Code XXX" (and Steve 1000% blushed like mad though Tony cackled and decided to set up a bet on if tonight would make another baby Barnes)

It was going to be a loooong night.

[emo-batboy]

I’m 1000% certain there’s a file of test videos (for research purposes ofc) of Battinson trying all of his fancy gadgets. These include but are not limited to:

Flying right into walls with his grappling hook

Jumping and falling like dead weight in his gliding suit prototypes

Just staring at himself in the mirror with his new contact lens and muttering, “I swear I can still see it”

Bruce watching over Alfred’s shoulder and scribbling frantically as Alfred tests out the bullet-proofness of the suit and cape

Crashing the Batmobile with his various turbo engine prototypes

Tossing differently-shaped batarangs at a target to see how it affects their trajectory

(Getting yelled at by Alfred because he decided to put the target right next to the elevator and almost killed him)

Submerged in a big tub of water for ten minutes to see if the rebreathing apparatus he made works then realizing he forgot to bring down towels then looking like a drowned rat as he waits for Alfred to come down

Raising his eyebrows several times under the cowl before deciding that he needs to make it bigger because it’s still obviously him

Injecting himself with different doses of his adrenaline shot (Alfred rips him a new one for trying it without supervision)

A random video of Bruce spinning in his chair and mumbling along to Mitski while he thinks of his latest case (how did that get in there)

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at handheld rocket boosters

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at rocket boots

Cutting off power to the entire building after using an early model of his EMP gun

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while a little baby bat just nestles in his hair (how did that get in there)

Smacking himself in the face with a nunchuck while trying out a new technique (he was incredibly sleep-deprived, like 62-hours-without-sleep-deprived, Alfred confiscates the nunchucks)

Coughing up a lung while testing out his new smoke pellets and immediately regretting it because this is literally a sub-level basement, what was he thinking

Dick complaining about how annoying and heavy his first Robin suit is “How can I do cool flips off a building if I can’t even touch my toes?” “You are not flipping off of buildings.”

Testing over 200 prototypes of flexible bulletproof fabric for the new Robin suit. (Dick spends this time practicing flips off of high places. Just for fun.)

Breaking his new night vision lens by turning off the lights, realizing he forgot to turn the lens on first, and immediately walking into a chair

Trying out an audio frequency jammer, but when he turns it on, all of the bats in the cave swarm him and he freaks the fuck out (Dick starts calling it the Bat Beacon, Bruce refuses to acknowledge its existence)

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Dick cuddles himself into the back of Bruce’s sweatshirt, fast asleep (how did that get in there)

Doing donuts with the Batmobile using its new remote controller while Dick cheers him on from a safe distance

Landing on his ass after shooting his net launcher without planting his feet first

Dick doing various flips and other skills in his new Robin suit while Bruce takes notes

Testing different skin-safe adhesives for Dick’s domino mask

Slipping on ice after using their new freeze grenades

Adding a parental lock onto the computer because Dick keeps playing Roblox on it when Bruce is gone

Installing a new entrance to the bat cave because Jason said he totally missed the opportunity to have a secret entrance behind a bookcase and now they’re all in agreement because it is much cooler than a boring service elevator

Cutting through random materials with their new set his collapsible knives and swords, including his table which he did not mean to break

Dick and Jason screaming bloody murder when they walk in on him testing a cloaking device prototype and appearing out of literally nowhere

Jason messing with the taser Bruce gave him and immediately getting it confiscated

Pacing in circles to perfect the tracking devices he installed in Dick and Jason’s utility belts

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Jason is in his lap, rambling about what he did in school today (how did that get in there)

Bruce, Dick, and Jason in a puppy pile on Bruce’s office chair, despite there being two perfectly functional chairs right beside that one. They’re all fast asleep

[junkissed]

packages, boxes and bags

day eight of junkissed's svt season's greetings event

member — boyfriend!seokmin x reader genre — the sweetest and purest fluff word count — 3.1k synopsis — you’re having trouble finding the perfect gift for your boyfriend on your first christmas together. maybe his friends can help. warnings — a little cursing, reader is called seokmin's girlfriend, pet names (baby, honey), they are so damn cute it hurts, when can i have my own seokmin god please i'm begging notes — lowercase intended. i apologize this is late but i was busy the past couple days and i also didn't have much inspo for this. so imagine my surprise when today i sit down at my laptop and boom three thousand words just. appear. but i am so happy with how this turned out and i hope you will be too. i must warn you all this is disgustingly sweet and precious and i definitely screamed into my pillow more than once while writing this. i hope you enjoy :) p.s. i promise this isn't an ad for kay jewelers— blame @duhnova for that

one reblog = one (almost) engagement ring

you shut your laptop closed and groan, putting your head in your hands. this was never going to work.

you’ve spent the better part of your day off on websites like amazon, macy’s, even walmart, trying to find the perfect gift for seokmin.

despite being together almost seven months now, it’s the first time you’ll be spending christmas together. and… you have absolutely no idea what to get him.

first you thought about getting him some little gadget for his computer at work, maybe a new keyboard or a cute new mouse pad. but then you remembered how he told you in passing the other day how he couldn’t stand how his job had him hunched over his computer all day, and he was thinking about looking for a new one where he wouldn’t have to be on it so much.

then you thought you might get him a nice framed picture of the two of you, something small to keep in his apartment for when you’re not there. but when you came over last weekend, the first thing he did was show you the digital photo frame he found in his closet that his mom got him for his birthday that he’d forgotten about. he was stoked to “finally be able to put it to good use” and had programmed it with dozens of pictures of the two of you.

you’d tried google. you’d looked at every gift-giving website under the sun. you’d even asked your best friend what she was getting for her boyfriend for christmas to see if it might spark an idea. 

but everything you come across is either something he already has, something he doesn’t need, or something he could easily get on his own.

so… you were stuck. thoroughly and completely stuck.

meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, seokmin is currently on the other side of town, running through the mall in a panic, trying to figure out what to get you.

he knows he shouldn’t have waited until three days before christmas to get his holiday shopping done, but he’s been busy– there’s a huge promotion up at his job, and he’s doing everything he can to get it. not only would it mean less sitting at his desk all day and more moving around, it would also mean a big raise, so you can finally move in together like you both have been wanting to. now that would be a perfect christmas present if he gets the position, but he won’t find out if he has or not until the new year, so that rules that out. 

it’s your first christmas together, so he really wants to go all out. winter is his favorite season, and now he gets to spend it with his favorite person, so why wouldn’t he make it something extravagant? except… he can’t find anything to get you.

so here he is at the mall downtown, ducking into every store and searching for something, anything that might give him an idea of a gift you might like.

he doesn’t wanna buy you clothes, because that’s lame, and also because he doesn’t wanna get something that’s not guaranteed you’ll like. what if you think the fabric is too itchy, or you don’t like the pattern? returning or even exchanging his gift would mean a big failure.

he doesn’t wanna buy you the trinkets he found at that one gift shop, because even though they are cute, they’re not special enough to get for you. these are the type of things he’d pick up for you on his way home from work as an everyday treat, or at the very most, a stocking stuffer; you deserve more than some cheap little thing he found on a whim.

he thought about getting you a new purse, because you said you’ve been needing one since the strap on your current one broke, but he’s pretty sure you already bought yourself one when your boss gave you an amazon gift card as a thank-you for all the overtime you’ve been doing lately.

it seems like everything he thinks of to get you is a dumb idea. so now he’s stuck. thoroughly and completely stuck.

you sigh, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your gallery, praying that one of the photos is hiding some kind of sign that’ll tell you exactly what to buy him. but as expected, there’s no magic word or wish list or qr code that leads to the perfect gift.

you’re just about to give up and call him and just ask him what he wants, when an idea hits you. calling him would be admitting to him you can’t think of something special to give him, but calling his friends… now that, that might get you somewhere. they’ve known him for way longer than you have, they must have some idea of things he likes or might want.

you quickly dial the number of his friend minghao. you’ve only met him a few times at some get-togethers, but he seems like the most responsible out of his group, and the most likely to give you a helpful answer.

he picks up on the first ring, but the voice that answers… isn’t minghao?

“hello seokmin’s girlfriend! this is minghao’s phone, how can i help you!”

“junhui, i told you to stop touching my phone!” you hear a voice in the background that you guess is minghao.

“fi-ine,” the first voice—junhui?—grumbles, and you hear a shuffling noise as you assume the phone is being passed back to its owner.

minghao sighs. “hi. sorry about him. what’s up?”

you try not to laugh at the phone mix-up. “just, uh, have a question for you.”

“mhm?” he prods.

“has… seok mentioned anything he wants for christmas? or, like, is there anything you know he needs?” you ask, hoping it sounds nonchalant.

he hums. “mm, not really. are you trying to come up with a christmas gift for him?”

you whine. “yeah. but i’ve tried everything, i can’t think of a single good thing to give him.”

minghao pauses. “he’s really sentimental, but you probably already figured that out by now. the best i can suggest is something homemade, or something related to some kind of memory you have together. he’d like that.”

you freeze. “i… i think i’ve got an idea,” you say jumping up from your chair. “you’re the best, minghao, i owe you big time for this.”

“don’t worry about it. merry christmas.”

you hang up the phone and open your laptop again. this just might work.

you hadn’t planned on spending this much on seokmin’s present, but why not go all out? sure, you’ll have to cut back on your morning coffee for a couple weeks, but it’ll be worth it to see the look on his face on christmas morning.

at the same time, across town seokmin’s just walking out of the jewelry store, a shiny velvet box tucked into his jacket pocket. it’s a lot more than he wanted to pay for it, but it’s better than showing up empty-handed. besides, if that promotion comes through like he hopes, he’ll pay it off in no time. it might have cost a small fortune, but he just knows it’ll look so pretty on you. he can’t wait to see you wear it.

christmas eve finally rolls around and you’re standing outside the door to seokmin’s apartment, your arms full of bags for the weekend you’re spending with him.

his entire face lights up the second he opens the door, and he squeezes you in a tight hug before giving you a soft kiss. “hi baby,” he says, almost shyly. “merry christmas.”

he grabs the bags from you to carry them inside, and you give him another kiss. “merry christmas.”

he takes your things back to his room to set them down, then comes back out into the living room, wrapping his arms around you again. “i’m so glad you get to be here,” he says quietly.

“mm. me too.”

the room is quiet, besides the faint honking of cars outside. you snuggle up on the couch together, picking out a movie to watch, the dim lights casting a soft glow around the apartment.

“do you wanna open your present now?” he asks when the screen turns black and the credits slowly roll past.

“seok, you have to wait until christmas! we can’t open all our presents tonight!” you giggle, and he pouts.

“please?” he says, looking up at you with those big, pleading eyes you adore so much. 

“fine,” you concede. “but only one! or else we won’t have anything to open in the morning.”

he grins and gets down on the floor beside the couch, crawling over to the tree to grab a small wrapped box nestled into the bottom branches. he comes back over and sits at the base of the couch, putting one knee up as he hands you the box.

he grins up at you as you tear open the wrapping paper, revealing the soft velvet jewelry box.

you look down at him, and he nods eagerly, motioning for you to open it. you hesitate. it definitely looks expensive, way more than you would’ve wanted him to spend on you. but you did pay almost $300 renting the place for his gift, so you write it off as being even.

you delicately pry the box open with your fingernail, revealing a breathtaking ring absolutely covered in diamonds and intricate silver gilding. it gleams even in the low light, sitting in its little velvet box, staring up at you.

you gasp, throwing your hand over your mouth. “seokmin, what the fuck is this!?”

his smile instantly drops, the color draining from his cheeks. “do you not like it? i can probably still return it, i have the receipt–”

“no!” you shout, and he jumps, eyes wide. “no,” you repeat, calmer this time. “no, i love it. it’s gorgeous. i just– i thought we were doing… small presents first?” you stutter, still in shock at the beautiful piece of jewelry in your shaking hands.

he blushes. “i… wanted you to wear it now,” he murmurs.

you study him, and suddenly you realize he’s still down on the carpet on one knee. and everything finally clicks.

you scream as you jump up from the couch. “seokmin, you’re not proposing, are you?” you gasp.

“no?” he stammers, confused why you’d think he is, before realizing himself that he looks… well, he definitely looks like he’s proposing.

he hurriedly puts his knee down, sitting flat on the carpet. “i’m not! i’m not. this is just a really nice ring, i swear,” he rushes to explain. “at least, not yet,” he mumbles under his breath, but you don’t hear him. you’re still focused on the fact that there’s more diamonds in this ring than you can count on one hand.

you’re still standing in front of him, mouth hanging open, and he’s starting to get worried because you haven’t said a word in a few minutes. “do you want me to propose?” he asks hesitantly. because, screw it, he’s already got the nice ring; if you’re ready, then he’s ready, might as well—

“no! i mean, yes, i do, i really do, but not right now, i…” you trail off, not sure how to continue.

the room is silent, both of you staring at each other. after a minute he stands up, taking his seat back on the couch. “oh no,” he says, finally breaking the silence with a groan. “i ruined this, didn’t i?”

“no,” you sigh, having recovered enough from the shock to sit next to him again. “no, of course not. i’m just… surprised. i wasn’t expecting this. it must’ve cost a fortune.”

“it’s rude to ask someone the price of a gift, you know,” he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“trust me, i’m not asking,” you laugh. “i don’t even wanna know.”

“can… can i put it on you?” he asks, his voice getting soft again.

you look at him, and then at the glittering diamond ring in his hand, and you can’t not accept it. you nod, letting out a quiet “mhm” in agreement.

your eyes start to water as he slides it onto your finger, and he looks up worriedly when you sniffle. “it’s so pretty, oh my god,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

“please don’t cry,” he says softly, and he looks so upset that you have to reassure him you’re not mad and you just really, really like your gift. 

you admire how it looks on your finger for a second before you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around him.

“i love it, baby,” you murmur. “you really didn’t have to do this.”

he hums. “but i wanted to. i wanted to show you how much i love you.”

tears well up in your eyes again, and you bury your face in his neck to hide them. “you already show me. every single day.”

he sighs, a happy sigh, relaxing into your arms. “i’m glad you like it.”

you stay like that for a while, gently rocking back and forth on the couch, peacefully enjoying everything. the scent of his cologne wafts around you, a comforting, familiar smell, and the colorful lights of the christmas tree shine softly in the background. you wouldn’t want to spend christmas anywhere else.

you pull away a little, breaking the silence with a short laugh. “mine’s gonna look so stupid compared to yours,” you pout as you snuggle into his side, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“are you gonna make me wait until tomorrow to open it?” he asks, rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“no,” you sigh. “it’s probably after midnight by now, anyway.” you lift yourself out of his arms, going back into his room to get his present from one of your bags.

it’s a lightweight little box, and you hand it down to him. the gift itself isn’t big in size, but you know he likes taking the wrapping off, so you put it in a box and wrapped it for him.

he waits for you to come sit beside him again, and he opens it, carefully tearing the red and green paper with a grin on his face.

he opens the box, revealing a small piece of paper. he looks back at you. “baby? what’s this?”

your cheeks heat up as you begin to explain, suddenly feeling shy about your gift. “well, i… i rented out the movie theater we went to on our first date, and i thought it would be fun to, just… spend the day there, i don’t know.” you trail off, looking down at your hands, until seokmin takes them in his own.

when you look back up at him, his smile is so wide, it almost looks like it hurts. “i love it,” he beams, his voice breaking a little. “that’s so thoughtful, honey. i really love it.”

he leans forward to squeeze you in a hug, and you can’t help but smile, too.

“this is the best christmas ever,” he sighs into your neck, holding you tightly against him. “love you so much.”

he sits back, pulling you onto his lap facing him. “do you know where i got the ring from?” he asks suddenly, locking his hands behind your lower back.

you look at him. “um, kay? it says it on the box.”

he grins. “and?”

you frown in confusion. “and… what?”

the tips of his ears turn pink. “y’know, their slogan? ‘every kiss begins with kay’? from the commercials?”

you blink at him.

he groans, rolling his head back. “can i just kiss you now, please?”

you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and rubbing your nose against his. “fine.”

and just as he’s about to, his pocket vibrates, and he pulls out his phone.

“my… boss?” he says, confused, showing you the screen.

you whine, resting your chin on his shoulder. “what does he want that can’t wait? it’s one in the morning on christmas eve– well, technically christmas morning, now.”

he looks at you with pleading eyes, and you sigh. “you can answer it. quickly, though, please?”

he presses a kiss to your cheek in thanks before sliding the button to accept the call, holding the phone up to his other ear. “hello?”

you can’t hear what’s being said on the other line, so you close your eyes, worn out from the night’s big surprises. you have a lot to do tomorrow—today—and you’ll need sleep if you want to spend the whole day with him like you want to.

seokmin sits up suddenly, startling you. you lean back, looking at him, wordlessly asking if something’s wrong. but he’s beaming, his smile so bright you’d think he’d just been told he won the lottery, and you crease your eyebrows in confusion.

he stays on the phone for another minute, listening intently. “thank you so much. merry christmas,” he says finally, then hangs up, tossing his phone to the other end of the couch.

“what? what is it?” you ask, still concerned despite his giddy expression.

he settles back, his hands sliding to your waist and holding you up on his lap. “i just got some news,” he says, and you know he’s being vague on purpose to draw out the suspense.

you pout. “well, are you gonna tell me, or not!”

he giggles, unable to hold it back any longer. “i got the promotion!” he yells.

your mouth falls open. “what promotion?” you ask, tentative.

“i didn’t wanna say anything unless i was sure, but there’s been a position available at the company, and they wanted to hire someone from within,” he says excitedly. “it wasn’t guaranteed that i’d get it, but i did! i got the promotion!”

“aw, seok! i’m so proud of you, baby,” you smile, leaning down to kiss him.

he pulls away after a second, and you look at him expectantly. “i have more news,” he says with a grin.

“and?”

“and… it comes with a big raise, so we’ll finally be able to afford a place together,” he beams, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling, and feel your eyes well up with tears, spilling down your cheeks.

he calls your name softly, and you look up at him. “are you… what do you think?” he asks, his big eyes searching your watery ones.

“i– i’m just so happy,” you stammer, leaning down to hug him again. “i love you so much. this is more than i could’ve ever asked for.” you bury your face in his neck, letting your tears of joy fall onto his sweater.

“merry christmas, honey.”

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[eddies-artofsuffering]

Part I: Sweet Tooth

(Part II)

Eddie stares down at his wristwatch. One minute to noon. Just one more minute.

“Want us to clear the path?” Argyle claps him on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s almost time.”

“I don’t – I don’t know. Maybe you guys could stand behind the kitchen doors? You can see through the windows, right?” Eddie scrunches his nose.

He can feel it, he’s been conditioned to it by now, the familiar pit of anticipation. Other people may call it butterflies. Eddie thinks it’s more like pterodactyls breathing fire inside his stomach. He desperately needs someone to hold his fucking hand during this hardship.

But he also really, really doesn’t want anyone up close to witness him making a fool of himself in front of Hot Steve - a new regular customer at their cafe. An incredibly attractive guy who works at the bookstore next door.

Eddie can NOT fuck this up. It only happens once a day, for a maximum of three minutes.

“Maybe today’s the day you ask him out,” Jonathan smiles. Dude never smiles with his eyes. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Absolutely not, have you seen Hot Steve?” Eddie groans. “There’s no way he plays for my team. He’s –“

The doorbell chimes. Eddie’s head snaps towards the entrance, mouth falling open. Hot Steve is walking towards him, holy shit. It’s go time. Eddie shoos his coworkers away with a frantic wave, straightens his name tag, and rests his chin on his palm and bends over a little, elbow on the counter.

This is always the way he greets Hot Steve. It’s his signature move. Although, it hasn’t really worked yet. If it worked, Eddie would’ve won Hot Steve’s attention by now. But this is the best he got at the moment, damn it.

“Hi, Eds, how are you doing?” Hot Steve is wearing a baby-blue button-down today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His name tag pin on the left side of his chest glints.

Eddie loves that Steve came up with that nickname on his own, despite only having seen him here at Cafe Byers for, like, two weeks now.

“Better now that you’re here.” Eddie gives him a cheeky smile, If Argyle and Jonathan were here, they might’ve been impressed with how smooth it sounded; they always comment on the way he flirts, the things he says. If you ever said shit like that to me, I’d be hella blushing, brochacho. You know you got game, right?

What they don’t know is that these lines are rehearsed in his head, so many times. It’s all Eddie ever does: practice pickup lines for Hot Steve.

“Right out of the gate, huh? You're makin' me blush,” Hot Steve smiles, and honestly, it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing at all. Or if he’s even flustered. Hot Steve's always so confident. “I’ll get a latte. With oat milk, please?”

“Oh?” Oat milk? That’s new. Steve didn’t care last time what milk he was getting. Interesting. Or is it? Eddie decides to file that information away for later. “Yea, coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

Another thing about Hot Steve that really does something to Eddie’s overworked pterodactyls, is that he never has a phone with him. Or on him. If it is, it's never visible.

Which is odd, because the entire café is littered with folks who cannot tear their eyes away from their little gadgets and devices, especially their phones; most people can’t even wait for their drinks without looking at them, checking something constantly, emails or texts or whatever. 

And, well, Hot Steve never does any of that. He always waits at the end of the counter, patiently watching Eddie making drinks. It always makes him feel so self-conscious. Eddie’s burnt his hands under hot steam a couple of times, actually.

But these two, maybe three minutes of Eddie making a fresh beverage for Hot Steve – this is the only time he gets to make small talk with him. Each time, he learns something new about him, or confirms something that Eddie’s already inferred. The grand question of the day is: “So, who’s the drink for?”

Hot Steve blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. “Uh – what?”

“Whose drink is this?” Eddie says, tamping the coffee grounds. “I’m assuming it’s not yours.”

“How… did you know it’s not mine?” he narrows his eyes.

God. It’s really telling, isn’t it, that Eddie’s noticed these things? “First time for you to ask for oat milk, so. I don’t know, I figured,” he shrugs.

Hot Steve opens his mouth as if to say something. Then he doesn’t. In the corner of Eddie’s eyes, he sees him nodding with pursed lips, with a hint of a smirk. It’s so distracting that Eddie almost heats up regular milk despite this whole conversation being around someone’s (not Steve’s, apparently) preference for plant-based milk. Oops.

He finishes making the latte and walks over to the cash register, handing over the drink. Steve receives it with a small thanks. 

But Eddie knows Steve's not quite done here today. Because, when you have a tiny (massive) crush on a near-stranger, you just, kind of look for patterns. That’s just how human minds work; Eddie has been carefully collecting all the little information about Hot Steve, just based on the few minutes that he spends at the café at noon.

Which is how that Eddie’s almost certain (almost, because there’s always room for anomalies) what Hot Steve’s about to do when he asks, “Is that it for today?”

“Oh – um,” Hot Steve scans the glass case of assorted desserts and baked goods, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Actually, yea. Can I have the blueberry crumble, please?”

This is one of the very few predictable things about him. Eddie doesn’t know why Hot Steve even looks at the shelves of sweets each time as if he’s ever going to make a different choice, because it’s always the same, the only constant pattern besides his entrance that he’s ever shown Eddie: the house blueberry crumble, the ones that Eddie bakes himself.

And every time Hot Steve asks for it, Eddie has to turn around and flex his arms, letting out a silent scream of victory, because Hot Steve is fucking hooked on those things. It’s truly incredible to know that he wants it. Eddie pours his heart and soul into those.

“Of course, babe,” he swoops down, takes a small square piece out with tongs, wraps it in a pocket of parchment paper. “D’you know I bake these every morning?”

“You – it’s you?” Hot Steve’s eyes widen comically. “Wow. I thought they were, like, shipped over from a bakery or something.”

“We do have an oven,” Eddie points behind the kitchen with his thumb and looks back, makes a mistake of drawing attention to the door, only remembering then that Argyle and Jonathan are probably watching this whole thing. Really hoping that they’re being discreet. 

“That’s amazing. I – I love them,” he says, not at all looking behind, thank God. “Guess you’re good with your hands.”

Eddie could practically hear the angelic chorus from the sky. Holy shit. Hot Steve loves his crumbles. Fuck. He could cry. 

But, you know. Everything always comes to an end, and that’s usually how far their conversation goes. Nothing more than just small talk, and then Hot Steve would pay for the stuff, go back to the next-door bookstore where he works. And until the next day, it’s as if he doesn’t even exist. A mythical creature that only appears during those three minutes in time and space, then vanishes afterwards. 

So he tries, just one last time before he leaves. “Steve?”

“Yea?” Hot Steve looks up, batting his lashes. They’re – so – pretty. So long, delicate. Such a fucking contrast to his muscular arms and chest that his thin blue shirt does nothing to hide, sleeves and buttons ready to pop. It’s sinful.

Fuck, and time’s ticking, yet there are so many things Eddie wants to ask. What is your drink, then? ‘Cause you never get the same drink twice.

Why is it always at noon? Is that your break?

Where are you from? When does your shift end? You do work at the bookstore, right?

When are you free?

All of these are more or less reasonable, if not a tiny bit creepy questions. But any of these would’ve been so much better than what Eddie actually blurts out, so out of the left field that he surprises even himself: “So, uh, how much do you bench?”

Oh, fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Eddie cringes hard inside, unsure how those words, that kind of vernacular even came out of his mouth, please, he wants to rewind time - 

But it's spilled oat milk. Guh. He crinkles his nose to prepare himself to apologize. Sorry. That was so – I’m not a gym bro. I’m not! Look at me! He's about to say, but:

“You wanna know?”

Hot Steve has a shit-eating grin on. That’s a first. There might even be a faint blush on his cheeks. Holy shit. Hot Steve took the fucking bait. Not that it was bait – it was just Eddie being a fucking disaster – but he nods all the same, stupidly. Of course he wants to know. He’s committed, now.

“Let’s see.” Hot Steve’s now circling around the counter to take a closer look at Eddie, eyes travelling up and down. It feels like Hot Steve is undressing him with his eyes. It’s kind of insane that they’re doing this in public.

Hmm. 140, 145 at the most – Hot Steve mutters under his breath. “Oh yea. Easy,” he says, still smiling wickedly.

“What do you mean, easy?” Eddie croaks.

His breath hitches when Hot Steve leans over the counter, inches away from Eddie’s face. “Probably could do twenty reps of you,” he whispers, winking.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits. He stares open-mouthed at Hot Steve, unable to move until he exits the café with the drink and a brown bag, fading away from view. Gone for the rest of the day, rest of the evening. Rest of the next morning. Only to return the next day at noon, like a fucking reverse-Cinderella.

“Why were you guys whispering?” Jonathan appears from behind, nudging him on the arm. “What did he say? Did you finally ask him out?”

“I’m about to ask him out myself if you don’t,” Argyle says lazily, earning a sharp smack from Jonathan. “Just joking, man, you know you’re my main dude,” he squeezes a squirming Jonathan on the side.

“He… “ Eddie gulps, closing his eyes, and pictures Hot Steve’s tantalizing smile. “He winked.”

Continue reading on Ao3

Read the sequel: Savour

[inamindfarfaraway]

How much do you think the Signal’s debut shook the supervillains, and indeed all criminals, of Gotham? He destroyed their longstanding definition of a Gotham vigilante. All the rules went out the window. From now on, apparently anything goes.

[Early morning in a plain, modest safehouse. Jonathon Crane cracks his eyes open, yawns, slowly gets up and groggily shuffles to the kitchen/dining area, where he takes out a cup and prepares to use the coffee machine. Behind him his scientific equipment and notes are arranged neatly on the counter. A relaxed Duke is taking photos of them.]

Duke: (jovially) Good morning.

Jon: Good morning.

Jon:

Jon: Who the hell are you?!

Duke: I’m the Signal! (pats symbol proudly) The newest hero in town.

Jon: (blinks, still half-asleep) Like… the Bat-Signal?

Duke: Yeah, I’ve got this whole light theme going on.

Jon: But - it - it’s 6:30 AM.

Duke: Yep. Turns out crime doesn’t just vanish when the sun comes up, so I patrol in the daylight hours. The night shift has seven people; the day shift should have at least one, right?

Jon: But you’re a Bat! Bats don’t do that!

Duke: Actually, some species of bat, like fruit bats, are diurnal. I got precedent.

Jon, on the verge of a breakdown: Okay, okay, look. I have lost a great deal of sleep lately evading capture by the frankly ridiculous number of vigilantes active at night. You’re a teenager, a student with a very strenuous job. Surely you understand what sleep deprivation feels like.

Duke: I do.

Jon: Just please, please let me have my coffee.

[A weighted pause. Duke narrows his eyes, then softens.]

Duke: You get one cup.

Jon: Thank you.

[He makes his cup of coffee and lovingly inhales the smell. Just as he’s about to drink it, Duke bats it out of his hand like a cat. It smashes on the floor.]

Jon: YOU -

[Duke quickly cuffs him.]

Duke: Stop! Making! Trauma: The Inhalant! That’s all you have to do, man!

***

[Duke is fighting Poison Ivy in her greenhouse of killer plants.]

Duke, popping out the blades in his escrima sticks: Your vines are no match for my bat-chet blades!

Ivy: Great, another one who puns.

[She sends a new wave of vines, but he gracefully slices and weaves through them. Too gracefully. His reflexes are faster than even Batman’s. Curious as scientists are wont to be, she halts her attack, and then suddenly, silently strikes with a vine straight at the back of his head. He cannot possibly sense it coming. He ducks.]

Ivy: Wait… oh God, you can’t predict movements before they happen with crazy extreme ninja training like Black Bat, can you? I’m not fighting another Bat like that. No way.

Duke: Oh, no, no, no, don’t worry. I’m not nearly as well-trained as Black Bat. I just have superpowers.

Ivy: You what?

Duke: I’m a metahuman. I’ve got superpowers.

Ivy: But you’re a Bat! Bats don’t do that!

Duke: I get that a lot.

Ivy: Well, what superpowers?

Duke: I’m not telling you all about my powers - I’m literally fighting you - but basically I can process light differently. Part of that is seeing where it’s been, the past, and where it will be, the future. I call it ghost vision.

Ivy: How far into the past and future? Hours? Months? Years? Can you see before your birth or after your death? Can you predict other people’s deaths? Watch the rise and fall of civilizations?

Duke, whose ghost vision currently goes under a minute both ways: That’s for me to know and you to… (stares into the middle distance) I believe, never find out.

Ivy: (raises hands) I’ll go to Arkham.

***

[Duke kicks open the door to Edward Nygma's hideout.]

Duke: Give it up, Riddler, I've got a... whoa.

[He trails off as he takes the space in. There are papers - plans, to-do lists, riddles, ciphers, trap and gadget blueprints, maps and more - everywhere, in stacks, folders and scattered loose across every surface. A bin in the corner is overflowing with crumpled pages. Intricate model traps line a shelf, one fallen on the floor. One wall bears a large corkboard with green and purple strings connecting annotated pictures of the Batfamily, including a screenshot of Oracle's digital logo. Edward himself has not reacted whatsoever to Duke's entrance. He's hunched over at his desk, typing away at an expensive computer setup. On one side of him sit many energy drinks, on the other is a massive pile of empty cans. All this detail requires Duke's night vision to see, because the lights are off and the curtains are closed, the only light the computer's cold glow.]

Edward: (only briefly looking up to give him a haughty stare) Yes, yes, the Signal, I've heard. Rest assured, it will be my utmost pleasure to obliterate you in a battle of wits. I just need to finish a couple of things.

Duke: When was the last time you slept?

Edward: (slightly hysterical chuckle) Please. I have transcended my mortal weaknesses thanks to intense focus, indomitable drive and the miracle of stimulants, much as I presume you Bats do. You're in no position to lecture me on getting enough sleep. I mean, you're late, so you're clearly not on top of things.

Duke: What?

Edward: You're meant to be a daytime hero. It's a little late for that, isn't it?

Duke: (concerned) It's 8:00 AM.

[Edward blinks and looks at the clock on his screen. He frowns. He stands up, strides over to the window and opens the curtains, flinching at the bright morning light. Duke notices that he has deep bags under his eyes and looks even more tired than Jon did, but his movements are as energetic as ever. He stretches and winces from back ache.]

Edward: Ah. So it is. ...What day is it?

Duke: (more concerned) Monday?

Edward: Monday?!

Duke: Okay, you've clearly been in the zone for a while. And I know being autistic can make it hard to recognize and interpret your body's messages. When was the last time you ate?

Edward: None of your business. I'm perfect condition.

[He picks up another can. Duke punctures it with a batarang. Edward scoffs and throws it down in indignation.]

Duke: I don't think you should have any more of those. (scans the hideout with X-ray vision) Oh my God, there's no food in here. Did you forget to buy it? Listen, if you come quietly, I'll get you a full breakfast on the way to Arkham.

[Edward is distracted, rummaging through his cabinets in search of food.]

Edward: Of course I have food, Duke. It's right... it's somewhere around... (finds the fallen model) oh, I was looking for this!

Duke: No, with my powers I - you know my identity?

Edward: (still distracted, talking increasingly fast) What, like it's hard? I know everyone's except Oracle and the Red Hood. If Jason had survived, he'd be a perfect fit, but he's dead. Now, true, Stephanie is still alive when I distinctly remember visiting her grave, but those are completely different situations. There was a motive to fake her death, to escape the criminal overlords she'd angered with that gang war fiasco; I cannot find any such benefit from Jason's faked death and relocation. Stephanie was gone for, like, a year. Jason has yet to return after most of a decade. Even -

Duke: You visited Steph's grave?

Edward: She was a brilliant adversary, I had to pay my respects. Anyway, even if Jason's death was somehow inexplicably faked, he wouldn't have chosen to live only as Red Hood. Especially who Red Hood was at first. That would mean sacrificing his close familial relationships and becoming his beloved father and big brother's enemy. And why would he ever be a crime lord? It's a radical betrayal of all his values, and based on his backstory, he should resent organized crime. And Batman would never fight his own child. None of it makes any sense! But I can't figure out what else could work. Is he really just a random person the Bats took in in adulthood? So that's been weighing on me. And also -

[He trips over a folder and, weak and lightheaded, crashes to the floor. He's so exhausted that merely lying on a flat surface has him sleeping soundly in an instant, resting his head on a stack of paper. Duke stares at him incredulously.]

Duke: I'm buying you breakfast.

[thecuriousquest]

You Know You Love it Part Five

Yandere!Bully KiriBaku x Reader

Warnings: Sex, bullying, sadism, masochism, nudity

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Six

Checkout my Master List here.

————————————————————————

Trips to the electronic store in the mall are always your favorite. You take pleasure in looking for new gadgets, seeing what the latest products are. You roam around for quite some time, holding a few items, not exactly sure what it is you want to buy yet.

Curiosity isn’t in your favor, however. You bump into a hard chest. Turning around to apologize, you look up at Katsuki. Images of being pumped by him and Kirishima simultaneously run through your mind.

Blushing like a rose, you stutter a weak apology. “S-sorry…”

His grin shows just how much his day got better by seeing you all weak and pathetic. He pulls on your chunky braid. “Little Mouse, what are you doin’ here all by yourself?”

Your fingers fumble to swat his hand away from your hair. “Let go. I’m just checking out the new products they have out. Was gonna buy something.” You feel like everything you’re saying just sounds incredibly dumb, and you can’t help but cringe inwardly. “What are you doing here?”

“Kirishima broke his phone, so he’s here to get a new one. I just wanted to get off campus.” He looks around for his best friend. “Hey, Kirishima! Look at what I found,” he calls the redhead over.

“Did you find one that’s cool looking?” he asks, thinking Bakugou is talking about a phone. His eyes land on you, and a devious smirk forms on his lips. “What’s our little nerd doing here? You’re not stalking us, are you?” He teases as he pinches your ear and gives it a quick tug.

“What? No! I’ve been here for about an hour now. I didn’t even know you two were going to be here. Would you guys quit touching me like that?” Your spirit heightens in brave defiance, but you secretly hope they’ll shut it down.

They don’t leave you hoping for long.

Kirishima puts a hand on one of your shoulders and pins you against a wall. He looks you dead in the eyes. “Trying to tell me what to do? Such a brat. If you have any plans for the rest of today, they just changed. You’re coming with us, so buy your shit and stay close to Bakugou while I finish looking for a phone.”

Pouting and crossing your arms earns you nothing but another tug on your ear from Kirishima. Squirming under his sharp grip, you nod in understanding. “I’ll do it. I’ll stay close.”

It’s not like you had any plans anyway. Whatever superhero movie you wanted to watch could wait.

Katsuki drapes an arm over your shoulder and keeps you by his side for the next twenty minutes. After shopping in the electronics store, they force you to go to a place you never dreamed of stepping foot in. A lingerie store.

You always buy your bras, panties, and socks online to avoid this exact thing. You shake your head as they both drag you inside by your wrists.

“Quit dragging your feet, slut,” Katsuki warns, daring you to keep it up.

God, it feels so good to be defiant sometimes. Hearing the degrading name, your panties start to become wet.

You still insist on being a little shit and go semi-willingly into the store with them.

An employee approaches you and your two tormentors. “How may I assist you today?” She has a kind smile on her face.

“She needs to get measured,” Kirishima says, really wanting to know what your accurate bra size is.

“She also needs some new panties and bras.”

The employee nods in understanding. “I’ll get a room started for you right away.”

Bakugou and Kirishima push you towards the woman as she heads to the back. You glare at them over your shoulder as you walk with her. They trail behind you with shit eating grins on their faces.

Despite trying to explain that you don’t want the boys outside your room to know what measurements you have, she simply waves you off and tells them anyways, thinking they’re the ones with the money and assuming correctly.

“She’s a (your bra size). Now, let’s get a collection started, shall we?”

———

You just want to eat and go home. However, you can’t help but like the attention they’re giving you. Jeans on, top off, new bra hooked, you have to show them each one you try. It makes you feel…good. Special in a way.

You’ve never really felt you were the sexy type with your glasses and struggling sometimes with just remembering to wash your face. These two, ever since they fucked you out of your mind, have done nothing but make you feel like a naughty little minx. Bakugou and Kirishima specifically go out of their way to not just bully you, to dominate you.

Showing off the black bombshell bra, Eijiro gives you a whistle. “Look at those jugs. You’re definitely getting that.”

“I told you already. I can’t afford these.”

Bakugou cuts in, “Didn’t we tell you not to worry about it? Shut up and try on that lacy one, slut.”

You obey immediately, and you can’t help the smile forming on your lips, stretching your cheeks. They’re buying something for me. Even if it is lingerie, it still makes you happy.

———

They take you back to U.A, and the three of you end up in Bakugou’s room this time. They take you in all kinds of ways. This time, the blonde takes you in the mouth while Eijiro fucks your tight cunt, but the duo doesn’t stop there.

Your bullies’ heightened stimulation and teenage horniness do nothing but push you into further exhaustion. If Kirishima comes inside of your pussy, then Bakugou is pulling out of your velvety folds and beating off on you, covering your ass and back. Some even gets in your hair. It’s borderline cruel what they’re doing to you, but you take every inch of their cocks because it’s what you fucking want. It’s what you’ve been begging for every time you defy their wishes, every time you fight back. They’re making you submit, and you force your legs open even wider, even if it is painful.

As you lay on the bed on your stomach, you can’t help but look over your shoulder at them as you raise your hips a little bit. “Is that all you’ve got?” you challenge wickedly.

———

You are a sopping wet mess by the time the two men finish with you. Dried and fresh seed coats you from your face down to your thighs. You have no energy left. A daze creeps upon you like the night. You stare ahead at Bakugo’s cock with a dumb look on your face, tongue hanging out while panting slightly. His cum dripping from the corner of your mouth along your chin.

You feel Kirishima pull out from your folds, and you shudder from the feeling of him slipping past your walls. A raspy whimper escapes from your lips. The redhead walks around the table to stand next to Katsuki as they both fix their clothes; you, however, lay naked on the bed for their delight.

“I think that oughta keep her out of trouble for a while. What do you think?” Eijiro asks his friend.

“The slut’s worn out as hell. Should probably get her to bed.” Bakugou crouches down to look you in the eyes. “How does that sound, Little Mouse? You gonna be a good girl for us and go to sleep, or are you gonna be a brat?” He puts a hand on your head condescendingly.

The threat hangs on the end of his sentence. You are too tired to resist anything, so you nod your head.

“Can you walk?” Kirishima asks in an amused voice.

You say nothing. You’re beyond exhaustion. There’s nothing left, not a single ounce of energy, not even a single spark of feistiness.

Kirishima grabs a small washcloth and wipes the cum off of your face. “I like making her this tired.” He rubs the towel against your sticky thighs as he talks.

You can’t help but moan under his careful hand as your eyes begin to close. Exhaustion tickles your brain into a deep trance, and within seconds, you’re asleep on Katsuki’s bed.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

I just read your alastor x reader whos like cruella de Vil fic and i loved it! Do you write for Vox? If you do can you do a reader who's like Jinx from Arcane/LOL x Vox?

Nav!

Vox x Jinx inspired! Reader

You two meet in odd circumstances

he’s trying to kill someone your trying to rob the same person

so he offers you help, he kills you steal

and you do, but you keep your distance, emotionally at least

you’ve heard of him before, the type of man he is and the things he’s done, you aren’t sure if you want to be involved with someone like him

but you two begin to run into each other more

until eventually, you try steal from one of his clients, and oh boy is it a whirlwind

you two have one of the biggest wars the ring had seen, you have gadgets flying everywhere hacking into voxs system

hes not having a fun time

until you run out of things to throw

now it’s a game of cat and mouse

but because of all his new viruses, he’s a little rusty

you get away from the fight, hiding out for a little while

he has demons search you all over the quarter, he’s upset with you

but hes also intrigued

he saved some of the things you’d used, picking them apart and seeing how they work, he’s impressed

nevertheless, he’s fascinated by you, and can’t wait to know more ;)

[rendy-a]

Idia househusband au

What kind of househusband is he?

Fluff plz

Fluff is what I do best.  Please enjoy and thanks for requesting!

There is a learning curve involved with adapting Idia to the househusband life.  When you were first married, Idia struggled to manage his new household duties.  Having lived a sheltered and wealthy life, he has never learned the proper way to manage things like laundry and vacuuming.  You would pat him on the back after a long day and tell him to stick with it, that you believed in him.  He takes heart at your faith in him and resolves to conquer his chores.  Over time, he has made an impressive array of gadgets to do the housework for him.  Now, he hardly works at all.  Don’t worry thought, that isn’t time wasted but time he can devote to you! (and anime)

Idia is still big into gaming, which leads him to keep unusual hours.  If you feel like trying to stay up late with him, he’ll put a comfy reclining chair in the game room for you.  Go ahead and watch him play for as long as you are able.  Some days you fall asleep in the chair only to wake up with Idia curled up on your lap.  It was too far to the bed plus…he doesn’t want to sleep in there without you.

Idia likes keeping images of you he gleans from the various monitors around your house.  Not in a creepy way!  He just can’t help but think of that time you smiled at him when he told you he made dinner himself.  Or when he held your hand that time you were sick and you told him that he was the best. (Him!)  These small, soft expressions are collected for emergency purposes.  The emergency being whenever he gets lonely waiting for you to get home.  He’ll set his monitor into slideshow mode and take in all your tender expressions to remind himself that you’ll be coming home to him soon.

Dinner was burnt.  You said you’d be home hours ago and that is when dinner was ready.  There is only so much even highly advanced cooking robots like the ones Idia makes can do for holding something warm for three extra hours.  When you stepped into the house, you could tell by the smell of char wafting from the kitchen and no Idia to greet you at the door, that you’d messed up. 

You found him in his game room, legs pulled up on the chair with his headphones on.  ‘So, pretty upset,’ you thought.  You wait for a moment to give him a chance to find a place in his game to stop so you can talk.  After a while, you realize he doesn’t intend to stop.  “Sorry,” you get out lamely, “There was a big project and I had to stay late.”  He doesn’t stop playing but, before you go, you see one eye flicker to observe you as you go. 

You head to your room and set your things down before hopping into the shower.  You feel terrible after both working a long day and disappointing your spouse.  You really need a hot shower to de-stress.  After a good amount of time, you finally resolve yourself to turning off the steaming water and heading down to the kitchen to see what you can salvage from the ruined dinner.  To your surprise, on the table is a steaming bowl of fresh ramen waiting for you.  A cooking bot approaches you to ask what toppings you’d like added.  You give the robo-chef your order and sit down to wait.  You set your arms on the table and lay your head on top of them, waiting for your dinner to be ready.  You smile softly, looking at the ramen bowl waiting.  A peace offering if you ever saw one.  Maybe, after dinner, it would be good for you to make an offering of your own?

You knock on the doorframe of the gaming room and Idia casually looks up at you.  Or he tries to but only succeeds in nearly falling out of his chair.  “Wha wha what are you wearing?” he stammers.  “Oh, this little number?  Just something I picked up from that Con we went to last month.  I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”  His hair is rapidly turning from the standard blue to a more flushed pink.  “Commander Lightning!  From the Space Hero Brigade anime.” You smile at him seductively before adding the final piece.  “I thought I’d spice it up just a touch.”  Idia looks at the cat ear headband you’d just donned before setting his controller aside.  This was a limited time event, if he’d ever saw one.

Bonus: The next day, Idia shyly hands you the lunch his robot chef has prepared and gives you a small kiss as you head out the door.  He waves at you from behind the door until you are out of sight.  Then he lets out a sigh of relief and closes the door, blocking out the normal world for another day.  Now, straight to his computer; he has things to do!  He pulls up the footage from last night.  There.  That is the shot he needs.  You are at the table with your head on your hands looking at the bowl of ramen with a soft smile on your face.  Some people might not be able to see it, but Idia knows that when you gaze at that bowl of ramen, what you are actually looking at is him.  And that look on your face whispers, I love you.  He saves the image to his file.  That will get him through another day.

[lacedinweb22]

You're... Spider-Man (Miguel O’Hara x reader)

🕸️ Entangled series 🕸️ ch. 8 - prev parts: ch. 5, ch. 6, ch. 7

You've figured him out.

✰ ✰ ✰

I ran out of my apartment building, dragging my bike beside me. The front of the building was completely surrounded by reporters, cop cars, news station vans, and Spider-Man fans, cosplaying and shouting, waiting to catch a glimpse of their hero in action. 

Umbrellas filled the scene; red and blue flashing police lights reflected in the puddles I stepped into.

The news anchors stood in a row, all reporting in front of my building. 

“It’s almost 9:30; we should be seeing our favorite hero very soon!”

“Why this block? We’re asking ourselves the same thing!” 

I pulled my raincoat hood over me, pushed through the crowd, then hopped onto my bike and headed for Miguel’s apartment.

***

I stood on his doormat, my knuckles resting against the door, hesitant to knock. 

What if he rejects me? What if I’m insane and wrong about him? What if he’s done with me and turns me away?  

I took a deep breath and knocked. 

No answer. 

I knocked again. 

Still no answer. 

He programmed my prints onto his door knob’s recognition algorithm weeks ago, allowing me to enter his apartment if necessary. This felt necessary. 

I wrapped my hand around the door knob. It glowed blue then pushed in, opening the door and revealing his dark apartment. The windows and blinds were all closed up, the apartment was lit only by the orange glow that peeked from his bedroom, the door ajar. 

I slid my shoes off, tiptoeing and looking around for Miguel. He wasn’t here. His motorcycle helmet was still here and his car keys remained on his kitchen counter. Where is he? Out being Spider-Man?

I walked towards his bedroom, slowly pushing the door open, the light glowing brighter on me. This feels wrong. But in the end, this will be worth it. Miguel will trust you, the lying will be over, and you’ll … live happily ever after.

I walked into his room. It looked the same as when I saw it last. His desk covered in gadgets and scribbled notes, his bed neatly made, books littered across the comforter.

I sat at the edge of his bed, realizing that Miguel wasn’t here, and wasn’t using his car or motorcycle, confirming my suspicions. 

He’s probably on my block, at my apartment. He’ll be on the news anytime now. Maybe he’ll come back early because I’m not there. My stomach dropped. Things will never be the same after this.  

“Okay so Miguel is Spid— no. It can’t be you. Was it fucking obvious? Right in front of me all along? How could I not see it?” I whispered as I stood back up, panicked, pacing back and forth in his bedroom. 

I stood at his desk; the orange hologram lit up my face as it all dawned on me. I looked down at the clutter, giving attention to the detailed gadgets he must have engineered, and piles of sketches of prototypes I’d never seen before. This isn’t physics. I traced my fingers along his handwriting, beautiful scribbles spread across his notepad. He’s so smart. I guess if anyone is Spider-Man, it would make sense that it’s the genius geneticist that is the arrogant, annoying, bratty Miguel. 

A photograph poked out of his journal. It was us; Lizzie took it during a study group in the spring. That’s Spider-Man? This competitive son of a bitch is our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? The Miguel who will rematch me one million times until he wins? The Miguel who won’t shut up about my physics solutions being off a decimal? This stubborn, arrogant asshole?

My laptop bag was hung across his shoulder. Always holding my shit. If he knew my bag was heavy, he’d steal it from me, using his height advantage to dodge my grabs. Stubborn asshole.

But,

Sweet, generous Miguel. 

…

Shit.

It’s adding up.

The noise of metal clashing disrupted my memories, booming from his bedroom window, causing me to turn sharply, my stomach dropping, my heart beginning to race. I watched the fire escape stairs rattle, anxiously. I stepped back, waiting to see him. This is it. 

Red webbing wrapped around the metal followed by a figure quickly pulled up onto the fire escape, the huge crash making me jump. It was him. Spider-Man. The man who saved me in the alleyway and walked me home. Massive, tall, and muscular, in costume, just like I’ve seen on the news, right in front of me, the side of him he’s kept from me. The side of him I met that night, but

hadn’t truly met. 

I gasped, catching my breath as he pulled the window up then stopped suddenly as he looked up to see me through the glass. He paused then slowly slid it further up. I helped lift it up, our hands against each other on opposite sides of the glass. I crawled through the window before he had the chance to come in. I stood in front of him, the rain pouring down on us. 

“I have to be dreaming,” I whispered, backing away as his tall, glowing figure towered over me. The adrenaline began to hit. “Y/N,” “It’s you. The guy that saved me last month, right? That’s who you are, right? God, how could you keep this from me?” I shouted against the beating rain, exhausted. 

“Jesus christ,” he grumbled, dragging his hand over his mouth and down his chin. 

“¡Lo sabía! I knew you’d be here. You weren’t at your apartment, and I still had to deal with the whole crowd following my every fucking move,”

I ignored him, picking up his arm, my touch interacting with the nanoparticles. 

“I could hear your heart racing from a mile away,” 

I looked up at him, my anger put on hold. 

“And smell your perfume from a mile away,” he muttered, looking down at me analyzing his nanotech.

I dropped his arm sharply, pushing him away.

“You’re– I mean I was right! You’re a liar and you’re… Spider-man,” I said, nodding to his get-up.

“Why are you here, Y/N? I had one simple rule for you to follow! Just. One. Not to visit me at night,” he scolded, his mask furrowing down at me. Shit, forgot about that. 

“You and your fucking rules! You’ve broken more than I can count and you’re worried about this one? I mean this lie— it breaks all of them. Look at you, Miguel, you’ve won, you’ve outdone yourself,” 

My eyes glossed over every mezzo detail. His suit was unbelievably detailed. 

He was this mesmerizing figure of crimson red glimmer and dim dark navy towering over me, glowing onto me, as I stood under him, his loyal shadow.

“Miguel, you’re Spider-Man,” I breathed out again, in shock, hearing my voice confirm my most outrageous theory.

“Really? Had no idea—” he muttered, looking down at his suit, “Why. Are. You. Here?” he asked, slower and quietly.

“I figured you out, Miguel. I want to hear the truth from you now… but first— you— you’ve been lying to me all along: your brother knows how to fix a fucking car, you didn’t bang up my soda breaking up a fight, you weren’t interning late, you’ve been out… being Spider-Man.”

His head hung low, his mask emotionless, a barrier between us; my reflection in his eyes looked back at me. 

“Miguel, to think you could’ve been hurt, seriously hurt, or been taken, I— I could’ve lost you any fucking second, and I wouldn’t have even known! I wouldn’t know how, or where … I wouldn’t have even said goodbye! How, Miguel… how could you keep this from me?” I yelled, looking up at him through my tears, the rain drenching my hair, blurring my vision. I looked up at the glowing figure; I knew Miguel was under there, or just a stranger I thought I knew. 

“I was trying to protect you! I didn’t want you to get entangled in my messes, with the shit I have to deal with!”

“I’m already entangled! I thought you trusted me—”

“I do but this isn’t about that! This is your life! This is so much bigger than petty fucking lies!” he exclaimed, rain glazing his suit. 

I wiped my drenched face. Miguel reached his hand up to me, but I pushed it away. 

“This is your life too! These are lies you’ve told me that– I wouldn’t have known that I lost you! Lost. Do you fucking get that? You’ve been in harm’s way this whole time and I didn’t even know! I’ve also– I mean god, do you even know how fucking crazy you made me feel? All these mixed signals? I’ve been fucking delusional about you being gone for hours at a time thinking you’ve just come back from a— a fucking quickie! I mean— I even thought it was the girl from the bookstore!” 

I sighed, my burning heart coming to a simmer. 

“I thought… I just— It could’ve saved me so much confusion and… maybe we would’ve been together by now, maybe we would’ve made sense,” I breathed out, wiping the rain and tears from my face. I looked up at his mask; I hate that I can’t read him.

“Together,” he muttered, his head hung low in thought.

“Nevermind that. Let’s go back for a second, so you’re ‘protecting’ me… is that why you’ve been surveilling my apartment this whole week? You don’t want me to get entangled yet you’re there crawling up and down my building? Is that why you were there the night of the attack? You’d rather stalk me then just tell me the truth?” 

“Well maybe if you let me speak every once in a while, I would’ve already told you!” he exclaimed, looking down at me. 

I collected myself. 

“Can you just take off your mask, please?… I came here to tell you, okay? To show you, I connected the dots… finally, about us and about your second life, I figured it out. And I want to be mad at you so bad right now, for keeping this from me and lying to me, but— you’re right, okay? I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish and… oblivious, and I’m sorry,” I finished quietly, looking up at his masked gaze.

He deactivated his mask, his face finally confirming the Earth-shattering truth I thought I was prepared to face.

I exhaled, seeing the truth for myself.

He hovered over me; the street lamps lit up the side of his face. I looked down at his suit then back up at the bruises and cuts on his cheeks. The rain began to soak into his waves, his hair dripping down onto his face. 

It made sense. The sudden splash of maroon in his eyes, late nights at Alchemax, the new frequent bruises on his knuckles. All of it. 

“And I’m sorry I lied… a lot,” he whispered. My lips fought a smile. He looked at me the way he did at the party, surrounded and drowning in all of the noise. It feels the same. 

“How did this happen?” 

I lifted my hand to his lips, tracing my fingers on his sharp fangs. 

He put his hand on my hand, “Alchemax,” he whispered back, still staring down at me. I grabbed his hands, the suit glitched away exposing his bare hands. I held them in my hands, tracing the bruises on his knuckles, and his nails, where I knew his claws hid under. 

I traced my fingertips along his suit then noticed black peeking from his suit collar. I pulled it out; it was the necklace I gave to him. 

“You… wear it when you…?” I whispered.

He nodded, looking down at me, “Never taking it off,” he muttered, softly smiling down at me. 

“I thought you were too stubborn to want to talk to me again. What… changed?” 

I grabbed our notebook from the windowsill, and quickly turned to the sketched page. I hovered over it, trying to shelter it from the rain. 

“You… you drew this. It kind of opened my eyes, helped me realize that I— that you—” 

“I want you?” 

He looked down at the page then back up at me. “Glad you finally see how fucking oblivious you are,” he scoffed, grabbing the now drenched notebook and tossing it back inside. He filled in the gap between us, our bodies pressing against each other. 

“Let me set things straight, Y/N. I wasn’t flirting with you because you were the only girl around at the party. It wasn’t me being lonely, or bored,” he explained desperately, his eyebrows knit together. He pushed my wet hair out of my face. 

“And it wasn’t the alcohol that made me say all of that or act that way with you, it was you. It was you,” he breathed out, nodding, his hypnotizing crimson eyes latching onto mine. 

“You want me?” I whispered, smiling up at him. He put his hands on my waist, pulling me into him.

He nodded, his lips right in front of mine, “Of course I want you.”

I wiped his wet face, my hand slipping against his soft skin. 

“I really really do,” he whispered.

His thumb caressed my cheek, his lips brushing against mine. Our bodies pressed tightly together, slippery against one another. He combed his fingers through my drenched hair, brushing the mess back. He slowly pressed his lips against mine, his warmth spreading to my stomach, triggering butterflies and sparks of electricity throughout my body. 

And suddenly, it all made perfect sense. 

✧༺♥༻∞

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[thelaundrybitch]

A New Beginning

TURTLE DOVES!!!

I found something in my drafts, and I decided to share it.

I wrote this FOREVER ago - So I'm unsure if I will continue with it.

@leosgirl82 was there when it happened. 😁😎🤩🫶🏽💃🏽

And @drowninghell made some fanart for it - Which I will be posting if it's alright with her 🥰😍💖

Tee hee

Anyways. It was something somewhere between "write what you know" and "wicked fucking self-indulgent."

Also

IT'S NINJA FUCKING TURTLES

SO

Without further ado...

I give you...

Some Cowabunga 💙❤️💜🧡

18+ content - for mature audiences only!

THESE ARE AGED-UP NINJA TURTLES. THEY ARE GROWN ASSED ADULTS. DON'T BE A <FILL IN THE BLANK>. 😘

Or at least that’s what I tell everyone.

My name is Liz, and I work for OSHA.

You see, after I graduated with an Associate’s in Science for Occupational and Environmental Safety Management, I was offered a job with FED OSHA - Occupational Safety and Health Administration through the federal government - The job of my dreams. So, you can imagine how ecstatic I was when they hired me. 

Everything was great for the first few months - until they brought me in on a top-secret project in New York. They told me they needed a Safety Technician who specialized in humanitarian issues and loved animals. Apparently, they thought I was their girl.

Weird, right?

So, they brought me to this gargantuan underground facility, where I was given my own office with all the latest and greatest technology and safety gadgets - even ones that hadn’t been put on the market yet; It was a fucking dream. One of those ‘too good to be true’ scenarios.

And indeed. It was too good to be true. 

They moved me to Manhattan to be closer to the facility because it was necessary for me to be on call 24/7 - which was totally fine because it was just me. 

And because they paid me WELL.

So, after a few months of puttering around, fixing compliance issues, they decided it was time for me to start in my REAL job position.

“Ms. Bueno, we will be bringing you in today, to help with the major issue we hired you for, initially.”

“Great! I can’t wait to get to work!” I said to the director.

“Good. I’ll be waiting in Section K22. Please meet me down there.”

“The high-security clearance sector?” I asked, a bit confused.

“Yes,” he replied.

I nodded, and he went to walk away but stopped at my office door. “ Oh, and Ms. Bueno?”

“Yes, sir?” I asked.

“Do make sure you use the restroom before you head down. Some of the things you see may be… Shocking,” he told me.

“Certainly, sir,” I said as he turned and left completely this time.

What the actual fuck are they doing down there. 

I met the director at the entrance to K22 - which turned out to be more secure than Fort Knox - and I was handed a white lab coat and some safety glasses by his security detail, which consisted of like seven huge dudes.

“Why are you guys all wearing bullet-proof vests, and I get this?” I asked, shaking the flimsy lab coat between my index finger and thumb.

“They seem to have a soft spot for females,” said ‘Bruce’, according to his name tag.

“Well, Bruce,” I said, unimpressed by his explanation, “OSHA clearly states that whatever PPE or other safety-related articles are donned by personnel going into an area of safety concern, those same articles need to be worn by EVERYONE that enters. Not just the men,” I stated, giving him my best OSHA inspector face. 

“She’s not wrong. Give her a vest for under her lab coat,” said the director.

That’s right. Fuck you, Bruce.

After all of my safety gear was on, they walked me down a long, brightly lit corridor that led to another door. This door could only be opened using iris recognition. 

“Ms. Bueno, what you are about to see, is one of the World’s most highly classified projects. If you tell anyone about this, you and said people will be eliminated.”

“Eliminated?” I choked out through a slightly embarrassing squeak.

“Eliminated. As in loss of life. Death. And you will be expunged - completely erased so no one knows you ever existed. Do you agree to these terms?”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What in the HELL have I gotten myself into…

“Uh, yes?” I said, making my response sound more like a question.

“I’m not convinced, Ms. Bueno. I need to be very convinced before we go through these doors. It’s a matter of national security.”

“100%, sir. I am absolutely, 100% positive. I swear to these terms, sir,” I told him, feeling my backbone reappear.

“Good. Samuel, we’re ready for entry,” he told the biggest security staff member.

Samuel cocked his gun and stood in front of the door, in the ready position, pointing the gun at it like the zombie apocalypse was about to ensue.

I swallowed nervously.

That’s a fucking lie. I’m about to shit my pants. No wonder he had me go to the bathroom before I came down here.

Anyway, as I’m wishing I had a diaper on, the director leaned in and initiated the iris recognition scan, successfully opening the sealed door. The security detail filed in first.

I followed the director into what looked like a giant laboratory. As we got ready to turn the corner, his security detail fanned out in front of us.

“LET US OUT!” Boomed a deep, raspy voice.

*Adrenaline rush*

“Just sit down. It’s not gonna help,” said another.

“HE NEEDS HELP!” yelled the first voice.

“I know, but they aren’t gonna let us out. And honestly, I don’t even know who could, or would, help him.” came a third voice.

I saw the director from the corner of my eye, turn and look at me as I stood stock-still, looking forward, and waiting to be told that I could proceed.   

He didn’t say anything, so I turned and looked at him, my eyes the size of Jupiter. All pupil.

He nodded once, and I stepped around the corner.

May God strike me dead where I stand, if I’m lying. 

There was a giant reinforced cage, resembling jail cells, holding the fucking Ninja Turtles in them.

I shit you not.

Albeit they were a bit older than we’d seen them in movies, and they looked slightly different, but they were definitely THE Ninja Turtles.

I gathered myself and turned to the director. “What is my job here, sir?” I asked him, completely composed with a straight face.

“Health and Safety,” He said, sadness flashing across his eyes for less than a moment. “We will leave you and let you do what you need to do,” he said, leaving me alone with the caged turtle-men. 

Once I was sure I was alone, I looked around for security cameras. When I'd decided there were none - probably for top-secret and national security reasons - I took off the stupid lab coat, safety glasses, and bulletproof vest and ran to the cages.

“Oh my god, what happened to him?” I asked, squatting down and reaching an arm through the bars to check Donatello’s pulse.

The other three turned and looked at me, confused. 

“Don’t touch him,” Growled the red-banded bara.

“Who are you?” asked Leonardo, putting a hand up in a placating manner, in an attempt to get his brother to back down.

“I’m the lead Health and Safety technician for this project. They hired me six months ago for this project, but this is the first time hearing about all of this,” I said, slightly alarmed by the faintness of Donnie's heartbeat. “Now, please tell me, what happened to him,” I said to Leo, looking him directly in the eyes.

“We don’t know. They sedated him. Heavily. And took him out of the lab. He was gone for two days. He’s been like this since they brought him back,” said Leo, now kneeling in the corner of the cell so he was next to me and his unconscious brother.

“And how long ago did they bring him back?” I asked.

“Maybe three to four hours ago? It’s hard to tell. We’ve been stuck in here forever.”

“Oh God… Is he allergic to anything? Does he have any health issues?” I prodded, my eyebrows furrowed, and my face twisted in clear heartache.

“Uh, no, no. None of us do. I mean, unless you count the fact that we’re overgrown, mutated, humanoid turtles…” He said.

I couldn't help but smirk at him, “No. That’s actually quite normal. This is New York, after all.” 

Mikey huffed a stifled giggle from beside me, now standing the closest he could get to us, in his own cage.

As I started to stand up, Leo stuck his hand through the bars and grabbed my wrist. I looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, which were filled with sorrow and hope. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even done anything,” I told him softly.

“Yea, but you’re going to - I can see the genuine worry on your face,” he said, my face heating up as he pulled me closer to his cage to get a better look at me.

“I need to go look through the files over by the entry door,” I whispered to him. “I need to see what they were doing to him, so I can help him.”

Leo released my wrist and wiped a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even realize I was crying. 

“I’m Leo,” he introduced himself.

“I know who you guys are. You’re kinda my childhood heroes,” I confessed, looking down.

“Thank God,” huffed Raphael, visibly relaxing.

“You’re actually gonna help us then?” asked Mikey from behind me.

I turned and looked at the orange-clad turtle, “Yes, of course.”

I turned back to Leo and leaned in closer to him so he could hear me whisper...

“I don’t know how, but I promise, I’ll help you get out of here.” 

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[maxwell-grant]

(SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS TIMES TWO)

I looked through camrips and tried putting together as many tidbits of dialogue as I could from that split-second comic cover interlude, since those tend to foreshadow the dialogue of the scenes in question. There’s some others I can’t make out due to image quality and we’ll have to wait for the streaming release to see more, but in the meanwhile I was able to make out these speech bubbles. I’m using “-” to fill in missing parts:

“Uncle Aaron!”

“-how much you need what I got and, trust me, that'll be the beginning of a whole new family business. Kid, your dad should be proud of you no matter what. Not making you scared to come out from behind that mask.”

“Yeah, that whole “Not-” thing

“Uncle Aaron, you can say whatever. But I can't let you kill this guy. I just can't.”. “Yeah, I-”

“You and I are going to take care of a bad guy. A real bad guy”. ”Who?”

(I’m assuming the named villain is Scorpion since the name starts with S-c-o and there’s a P, and also with the following line)

(images compiled by @tokyofro​)

“Did you look up the Scorpion on the web?” “Yes Uncle Aaron, I did”. “Then you know I wasn’t lying, he’s a dangerous cat”.  “What does this have to do with-”. “You wanna be a superhero, now’s your chance”

“You ran away? YOU RAN AWAY?! Is that the kind of man you are?

MILES: “You really don’t care who you hurt? What did the world do to you to make you think it’s okay for you to be this way? 

So my theory, going off by these and particularly the “What did the world do to you?” line from Miles and (presumably) Prowler!Miles telling him that they’re going to go after “a real bad guy”, is that Prowler!Miles is going to be exploring the idea of Miles Morales turned villain protagonist/anti-hero. It seems to be picking and uniting separate strands like Prowler’s original role as a darker counterpart to Spider-Man / a gadget-wielding morally compromised crimefighter who eventually turns face / Spider-Man-as-Batman, Earth-616 Miles being a villain, and Miles’s contentious relationship with his original setting and current status as an Ultimate Marvel refugee who quite literally jumped ship from the darker and all-around shittier home universe he was meant to be in, among others, to consolidate them into Miles’ confrontation with himself.

The first Spiderverse shows a lot how strongly Miles listens to and respects and values the input from his uncle (and vice versa, only Miles is able to bring Aaron out of the Prowler mask, even when Aaron knows he’s going to die the second he hesitates and uses that second to shield Miles’ identity), and he’s looking for guidance, someone to model himself after, because he’s a very intelligent kid trying to live up to the potential everyone keeps telling him he has, trying to live up to what his parents worked so hard to give him. He finds role models in Spider-Man and an entire group of Spider-People there to lead by example and catch him when he falls, and with his uncle giving his life away to not only save him, but urge him to stay on the right path. It wasn’t just meeting Peter Parker at the collider that saved Miles, it was rising up to the challenge in Spiderverse 1 and Uncle Aaron using his last breath to shut the door on Miles making the mistakes he did, and so Miles makes himself into the Spider-Man his world needs, filling in a spot needed upon left vacant.

Whether Earth-42 was supposed to have a proper Peter Parker Spider-Man and that never came to pass, or it was supposed to have it’s own Miles Morales get bitten and become Spider-Man like the Spot flashback indicates, Earth-42 Miles is what happens when none of that comes to pass. No Spider-Man protecting the world, no spider bite and sacrifice to pass along the mantle, no pressure and assistance from Aunt May and the others who’ve been there and can help him if he can help himself first, no Spider-Man mentors to show him the ropes, Jefferson dead and his mom having to struggle with Aaron’s help to get by, supervillain cartels burning the streets down, and the only person who can remotely help is his uncle, who will never get the heroic sacrifice or wake-up call to change his ways or inspire his nephew to strive for something better. Because there isn’t anything better, and if there is, it isn’t here, someone took it away. After all, Miles and Aaron don’t show any surprise upon hearing about all that different dimension spider-power talk, and whether they know or even blame Miles for taking the opportunity that was theirs, they’ll hardly be that thrilled to meet someone who clearly had better opportunities than they did, if he can talk about them being good guys with choices to be better.

It’s possible that Prowler! Miles isn’t even that much of a villain, or even as much of a mercenary as Uncle Aaron was as the Prowler. It’s possible, and far more tragic if so, if becoming the Prowler was simply as good as it got for this earth’s Miles. If it was the only way they could survive in a Sinister Six-run city and make ends meet and provide Rio with enough to get by, if it was all they could strive for in a world where there is nothing and no one to show a better way, or even if this is the only way Miles can help anyone and make amends for the sacrifice of his father, as most Spider-Men do upon losing their loved ones. Whether this Miles has never had any positive examples to follow, or worse, he once did and this is the best he can do in living up to them. Because on Spidey’s shadow, lives The Prowler, Spider-Man when forced to play by Batman rules.

No web swinging and super speed, so the motorbike will have to do. No healing powers or toughness, the body armor can only take so much. Incapacitating-yet-non-lethal thunderstrikes at your fingertips and invisibility are not an option (although MAN wouldn’t those be convenient for a caped burglar, huh), so you settle for high-tech murder claws and hope those and the camouflage do the trick in protecting you for another day. No guiding superheroes with your best interests in mind, only super-criminals and the only one of those you lucked into being on your family’s side. Your survival dangling on a knife’s edge, so if you don’t take that knife and use it, the next guy to take it won’t be so kind. Traits that are no stranger to Spider-Man stories or related characters, whether they predate him or follow in his example.

(Left-to-right: The Spider by Dan Schkade, Taylor Hebert (Worm) fan-art by tactilescream)

Or, what happens when your bug-themed crimefighter, with lots of personal baggage and trauma and flaws to contend with from the get-go, is thrust headfirst into surviving and defeating an endlessly escalating superpower-backed war on crime against which they are hopelessly outmatched, with no Spider-Safety Net status quo and super powers to catch them, as they fall and keep falling and keep weaving bigger handbaskets to catch larger handfuls of hell inside, because that’s what it means to be “the only thing standing between this city and oblivion” when you can’t juggle cars but everyone around you can, and they are more than willing to toss them at you and your mother and uncle whether you can fight back or not, so you might as well be able to, right?

And so we get the battle between Miles Morales of Earth-1610, who’s spent two movies proving himself to be not just as good a Spider-Man as any other, but The Most Spider-Man, the Spider-Man who’s the ultimate underdog and pariah as well as the ultimate fighter and scrapper, who beats hundreds of others to try and upend their ultimate fate. Versus the Miles Morales of Earth-42, his shadow come to roost, the one who could be anything except be Spider-Man, and so he can settle for being Not-Spider-Man until he can catch the real deal, and then they’ll have much to do together.

[pluckyredhead]

Roy has always been a science guy

Well, okay. Not always. But yes, before the New 52.

I think we can all agree that New 52/RHATO Roy bears little to no resemblance to pre-52 Roy. Lobdell basically just took a stock 90s hacker character (Lobdell can only write stock 90s characters) and called him “Arsenal.” Which, sigh.

HOWEVER. This idea of “science genius Roy” is really entrenched in fandom now. Plus the way my brain works is I tend to try and figure out a way to synthesize contradictory elements of canon and make them work, rather than just going “no, that’s stupid” and ignoring it. Especially since this was the only version of Roy we had for like seven years.

And the thing is, 2000s canon? Makes a pretty good argument for “tech guy Roy.”

See, after I read all of RHATO and RH/A in 2020, I went back and reread the 2001 Green Arrow series, and I noticed Roy is consistently, unquestionably the techiest Arrow. Now, admittedly that’s a bit of a tallest hobbit situation, since Ollie and Connor are staunch Luddites and Mia has the scientific know-how of an ordinary teenage girl in the early to mid-2000s. (I bet she’s great at texting on a flip phone.)

But there’s this repeated and very cute thing where whenever a member of the Arrowfam busts out new tech, they’re like “Roy gave me this. 🥰 ” Which I love, because it makes Roy feel very present and part of the family even though he lives on the opposite side of the country at this point in canon.

But it also makes Roy come across as by far the most technologically savvy member of the family.

Roy invented a stun grenade arrow for Ollie!

He provides them with weird motorcycles!

Roy begging Ollie to evolve out of the 14th century is such a good mental image.

But wait, there’s more!

A GREEK FIRE ARROW. Roy out here reinventing lost 7th century technology and putting it on arrows.

A tiny arrow to put...in your pants? Okay.

Roy is so well known for his love of tech that Dr. Light knows about it, apparently! (Yes, Connor wielding an enormous gun while Dr. Light is racist towards him fucking sucks. Fun fact: this issue is why I rage quit reading GA on a monthly basis in 2006 and didn’t pick it back up again until Rebirth. This page wasn’t the only reason but it sure didn’t help.)

When Roy does show up on the page, he continues to be tech-savvy:

I love that he just had those tiny clippers on him.

The “Roy and Connor bond” issue is a delight on many levels but Roy casually turning his Ferrari into a thing we still can’t do nearly 20 years later is one of my favorite aspects. As is Connor affectionately teasing him.

This scientific prowess carries over into Outsiders, which isn’t a surprise because Judd Winick was writing both books at the time and he loves a techy Roy:

Roy worked with S.T.A.R. Labs, the best scientists in the DCU, to reprogram a robot from the distant future. Now, obviously that wasn’t successful because she was a Brainiac, but they were able to essentially create an AI with a complete personality existing alongside the Brainiac programming, which is pretty damn impressive. (He was also able to reactivate her in Graduation Day, also by Judd Winick.)

And he created a headquarters that responds to him like this without any visual commands or pressing any kind of buttons??? What???

Plus, he canonically specifically has a kink for fucking in that souped-up airship he mentioned up above. Oh, Roy.

Also, on a much simpler level, you can make a strong case that he’s more inclined to trick arrows than Ollie (and Connor actively thinks they’re ridiculous). He likes gadgets!

Now again, this is not me arguing that New 52 Roy was well-written or that RHATO was a good book. I feel like that version of Roy is, like I said, a 90s hacker who sometimes picks up a bow, and Roy should always be archery first, tech second.

But my inclination is always to try to reconcile canon as much as I can, and incorporate as much as possible into my versions of the characters, so when I write Roy, I tend to nod to the New 52 science aspect by going back to this era. I can’t really get on board with the boy genius stuff or the Roybots, but I’ll often have him messing around with new trick arrows in his downtime, because I like the idea that he’s a tinkerer who loves toys. He’s also been an all-around weapons expert since the early 90s (rather than just arrows), so it makes sense to me that he’d want that range (pun intended) to be as wide as possible.

In conclusion, Lobdell is a hack, but Roy is still a STEM guy, and he definitely has to fix Ollie’s phone every time he goes back to Star City.

[violetsandfluff]

Nighttime Routine

concept from @reveriehs

Harry and Y/N had been doing their skincare together every night since she moved in with him. Their products created a long, colorful row across the bathroom counter, which they navigated with ease.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed as you peeled open one of your favorite face masks. It felt so cooling and refreshing, you were sure Harry would love it. You laid it gently on his face and his eyes widened in surprise before you coaxed them back shut. “If that feels good, wait ‘til you feel this.” You ran your jade roller all over his face, lifting it up rather than pulling it down.

Harry practically purred at the sensation, his head falling back against his neck. “Yeah,” he groaned.

“Yeah, H?” you questioned, and he gave you a lazy nod in response.

“Feels so smooth,” he moaned wistfully. “ ‘F only I had some of my own.”

“Too bad,” you piped cheerfully as you continued rolling the stone up his face. “It makes your skin feel so smooth, it’s almost unrealistic.”

“You are unbearably unrealistic,” Harry groaned, head still back. “Goddess.”

You let out a soft hum in place of a giggle as you finished massaging his face. You peeled off the mask, leaving him in awe of his smooth, hydrated complexion.

“Now what are you gonna do to me, Mr. Styles?” you asked, giving his bare chest a playful slap.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” he replied as he examined you with a smirk on his face. “Maybe…”

You watched his eyes scan the array of products before him as he carefully selected his favorite face soap. “This.” He squeezed some onto his dampened fingers and lathered it onto your face. He rubbed gentle circles across every inch of it as you blushed subconsciously, a result of the attention from Harry.

His eyes were glittering before you, enthralled by your beautiful face.

“Who’s got you so bothered?” you inquired, to which he didn’t respond.

He only reached for his moisturizer and spread it across your face, taking extra care to be gentle.

“It’s so smooth,” you commented.

Then, it was your turn to pamper him again. “Close your eyes and pick.”

His fingers fumbled around a small brown bottle and he handed it to you. “What is it?”

“Anti-aging serum!” you exclaimed, your chipper tone driving him mad. “Just perfect!”

“I am not aging,” Harry contradicted, folding his arms in retaliation.

“You sure look a lot different that when I first met you,” you reasoned, dripping the golden serum onto his forehead and cheeks. “Obstinate, aging baby.”

He let out a growl at your words, but he wasn’t unhappy, because every word was spoken out of your adoration for him.

Your fingers worked the serum into his skin, and, when you’d finished, he looked in the mirror, claiming to have aged backwards. “I feel rejuvenated,” he remarked coyly. “I am your baby-faced baby again.”

“Shut up,” you hissed through your giggles.

Harry picked up your new vibrating contraption that was supposed to tighten your skin, and turned it on.

“How do I use this?”

“Press the button and put it on my face,” you explained dumbly.

He died as you instructed, letting the machine whir gently across your skin.

“I can’t see how this is tightening, but it makes me want to squish those precious little cheeks.”

“Ooh, Harry!” you exclaimed, causing him to nearly drop your gadget. “I have a lip scrub from Lush that I wanna try on you. Come closer.”

You opened the container, waving it beneath his nose so he could get a whiff of it.

“It’s called Watermelon Sugar,” you explained excitedly. “It’s perfect for you!”

“Oh, goody.”

You scraped some of the soft crystals from the jar and spread them across his pink lips, scrubbing them gently back and forth. When you were done, he couldn’t help but lick his lips in amazement.

“I can kiss you again!” you remarked, receiving a dirty look from him.

“Watch it missy,” he warned. “I could use that vibrater for things you cannot wrap your pretty little mind around.”

“Such as?”

“Oh… you know…” he began, scrambling for ideas. “Ah… rattling your face off, pussy torture? The usual.”

“The usual, hm?”

“I don’t know about you, love, but I feel like using the kiss facial right now.” With that, his mouth was all over your face, whether you liked it or not.

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