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#doctor strange needs a break
xenocorner · 11 months
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"Please return my cap?"
"Mmno-"
I have committed the sin of self indulgence forgive me.
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dovelywind · 2 years
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I think that makes him a thief
Part I, II, III, & IV of MoM doodles + Spidey doodles + MCU Gals
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wizardsaremomstoo · 3 months
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It disturbs me that I have to ask you this for the fourth time this week, but, why are you kids trying to set Peter on fire?
-Stephen to Shuri and America, probably
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falllpoutboy · 2 years
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phase 4 being agreed upon being the worst phases thus far and the sole reason for it being that theres so much content (movies + streaming shows) releasing in such a short amount of time
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nightowl1899 · 2 years
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thenicedevil · 2 years
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I am the president of the America Chavez fan club I am proclaiming it
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Local trans man considers revamping his OF and trying to find a local sex worker, more at 11
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ghouljams · 1 month
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Courting (Letters from Lt. Riley)
tags: regency au, Ghost x f!reader/OC, courting, letters, Ghost flirting and also being so weird with it, courting gifts
summary: You told Ghost he could write you. He does.
The maids drop off the letter while you're in the study. The wax seal on the front is unbroken, which you find strange. Aren't parents normally supposed inspect courting letters? You suppose you should be thankful your mother isn't a noble by birth, she doesn't have the same care for propriety you know others do. She's always maintained that love is for the people involved and no one else. Though, love is a far stretch for your feelings as far as you're concerned.
Ghost seems to go out of his way to aggravate and annoy you. You will say... you've never enjoyed conversations quite so much as you enjoy them with him, and you've never had a man entertain your debating so well, and you suppose his eyes are rather warm and honeyed enough to catch attention. You like that you can see the curve of his lips under his mask when he smiles, and that the lines beside his eyes crease when he looks at you. And you like his hands, you suppose, if you had to pick something.
You break the seal of the letter and unfold the thick paper. There's a thin sheet of silver paper covering the actual writing and you scoff at the precaution. Surely the man isn't saying anything so scandalous as to need more protection from prying eyes. Still, you're careful removing the tissue-y layer.
Your breath catches in your throat, fingers hovering to trace carefully over the lines of charcoal covering the page. It dirties your glove and you're quick to avoid touching the paper directly, lest you sully the careful work of portraiture. It's you, your profile staring determined off into the distance, a slight frown on your lovingly shaped lips and a gentle crease to your brow. You wonder what your charcoal double must be thinking to have such an expression. You recognize the necklace he's haphazardly rendered, a gift from your mother you wore at the first party of the season.
How long has he been thinking of you?
There's tight cursive at the bottom of the page, "I have nothing to say, except that you're the most beautiful creature I've ever had the misfortune of knowing. -Lt. Riley"
Your heart flutters so hard, batters so aggressively against your rib cage, that you don't even notice the heat in your cheeks. You call rush to find pen and paper to write back.
-
You're having breakfast with your parents when the maid brings you a letter. You recognize the red wax seal immediately and slide your fingers under the paper's fold to break it quickly. The crack of wax fills the silent room, and you look up from your work to see your parents watching you. You father rests his chin on his laced fingers, and your mother quietly sips her tea. The letter is carefully placed to the side and your mother smiles, setting down her cup to draw one of your father's hands into her own grip.
"Don't let us keep you," You father rumbles, you can't tell if he's upset or pleased. His voice carefully neutral.
"It can wait until after breakfast," You tell him peaceably, picking up your fork again.
"Give it a read now dear, you'll upset your stomach rushing through meals." Your mother, ever the doctor, encourages. You tamp down your smile and unfold the letter, your fingers feeling for another sheet of silver paper. You're almost disappointed not to find one. You suppose you can't expect a gift of that quality every time. Once again the actual letter is short and neatly penned,
"Arguing with me won't make me march down there princess. Not that the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but I'd be gone as soon as I saw you, lost as soon as you opened your mouth. You make me lose all rational thought, and yet you consume my every waking moment. There is no distance I could travel that I would not still be haunted by the memory of you. If I'd never been assigned to your escort I would have been a saner man, miserable for never having known you. Argue with that.
Did you miss every one of your penmanship lessons?
Lt. Riley"
You smile to yourself, your thumb rubbing against the paper. He's pressed little flowers into the folds, their colors bleeding into the page and their petals falling into your lap. You pluck them carefully from your skirt, dutifully avoiding thoughts of your suitor, and place them back in the folds of Ghost's letter. You'll have to write him later, you know he's egging you on, but really he should know better than to criticize a lady's calligraphy.
You look up from your work and meet your parent's stares. Your mother's thumb rubs against the back of your father's hand, you've always hoped for a match like theirs.
"Something nice?" Your mother asks, and you smile at her.
"Never," You tell her, "Lieutenant Riley is as rude in his letters as he was as an escort."
Your father hums, but you think you see the edge of a smile under his beard.
-
There's very little awkwardness in the letters between you and Ghost. He writes better than he speaks, but the bluntness is still there, the charm that made you first agree to this courtship. He makes your stomach clench, makes your heart flutter. He's rude and argumentative, and you find yourself hoping for every letter he sends you.
He's sweet.
He's terrible.
You hide his letters under your pillows, the ones that talk about kissing you, "Everywhere but your mouth," he writes, "so that I can still hear you." You sit on the chaise and chew your thumb reading the letters that promise you devotion, "you'd never worry where I was, I never wish to stray from your side." You hear your friends discussing suitor gifts, the scandalous things that pass through their aunt's inspection first, that their fathers shake their head at.
You think of the modesty panel laced into your stays, the carefully inked words along the edge of the gift, "if my lips were here they'd never leave."
You pluck Ghost's letter from the tray before your maid can even offer it. Your fingers quick to break the wax seal before you even find a place to sit. He never writes as much as you do, but he's purposeful with his words in a way that makes your heart sing.
"If it's the Scot I think it is your friend is fine. We can discuss when I pick you up this afternoon. Wear walking shoes. Love, Lt. Riley"
You snort, quite a way with words your lover. You nearly trip on your way up the stairs staring at his signature. "Love" be still your heart.
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angxlofvenus · 9 months
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hi, hi, hi! could I request the brothers + diavolo during a meeting together when their s/o (the mc) starts to doze off and then suddenly faint? Turns out, the MC forgot to drink water that day-
That happened to mr a few days ago, it wasn't fun - so here's a reminder for you to drink some water too :')
Thank you so much for the request!!! I am so so sorry to hear that happened, I hope you're doing better <3 If anything in this post seems insensitive please let me know! Have a wonderful rest of your day/night
Genre: Mostly fluff, Some Hurt/Comfort Ship: Demon Brother+Diavolo x reader (individual) TW: Minimal cussing, mentions of fainting, mass panic, yelling, second person pov for reader (If I missed anything please tell me!!)
When You Faint
You watched as the clock slowly ticked by the minutes as the Demons around you spoke amongst themselves, Your talking had slowly come to a stop as the room started to spin, Some of the men looked at you strangely but nobody expected you to fall out of your chair and onto the council room floor...
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Lucifer
He's immediately up out of his chair
Oh lord, he’s now fully in mother mode-
Barking orders at everyone, Yes this includes Dia
As soon as he gets over to you his wings are out, shielding you from everyone else
Once you come to, He isn’t letting you out of his sight
And once he finds out you fainted because of dehydration? 
He would so buy you one of those big ass waterbottles 
One of these mfs
Mammon
Freaking out pt. 1
Definitely hootin’ and hollering
He is indeed making a scene
Won’t really be on you until after you wake up because he knows Lucifer and Diavolo can do more for you then he can
After you have awoken though? He isn’t letting you out of his sight
You don’t have to worry about remembering to drink water, He’s there to remind you now!
Humans are such fragile creatures and now that he's seen that firsthand, He will barely let you do anything
He will make sure you are healthy whether you like it or not dammit
Levi
Freaks out pt. 2
Somehow freaking out even more then Mammon
He doesn’t know what to do! He leaves his room one time and this is what happens!
Will kind of just stand there in shock as everyone erupts into chaos
He isn’t the best example of someone who looks after their body lets be honest
But when ya’ll are gaming You’ll start to see some more healthy options popping up in the mix of chips and soda
He will beat himself up over not noticing, Please comfort this man before he decides you resent him
He won’t ever really bring it up but rest assured, It will never happen again
Satan
Would also run to your aid
He has read a lot of medical books in his time, He knows what to do
Would take you to a doctor afterwards, just in case
Kind of beats himself up for being unaware of your condition
I don’t think he’d freak out as badly after the incident, He knows it was probably a one time thing
Will bring up in conversation casually if you’ve eaten and drank water today, just to be sure
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Asmo
Screams
Freaks out pt. 3
Yelling at Lucifer/Satan to do something!
Will be all over you as soon as you’re awake
Don’t scare him like that! 
Will get extra pouty when he learns why you passed out
Has Ya’lls self-care sessions meant nothing to you?!
No more of that, not on his watch
He will offer you water at random times throughout the day
Studying? Water! Watching Tv? Water! Sleeping? Water! no, no, Beauty sleep is important
Beel
Doesn’t knows what's happening, Why are you on the floor?
Will stand on the sidelines concerningly as he watches Lucifer take over, He trusts his brother to help you
Will also feel immense guilt he didn’t see the signs, He just wants to keep everyone safe 🙁
When he thinks Ya’ll are doing something too straining for a human, He’ll stop to ask if you’re okay/ need a break
Will start carrying around a water bottle specifically for you 
Belphie
He totally wasn’t sleeping when it happened, nope
Woke up to his brothers and the Prince of the Devildom freaking out around you
I don’t think he’d really get too involved with helping since he doesn’t actually know wtf just happened
If you don’t immediately perk back up, He’s gonna cuss out Lucifer and maybe try to fight him
Gets a little snappy at everyone (except you ofc) after the incident
He even started to set alarms on your DDD as reminders to drink water
Will tease you just a teeny bit, But you can tell how worried the entire thing actually makes him
Diavolo
Was over to you in record time
Commands everyone to step back from you while he calls Barbatos and a royal doctor
You will be given the best treatment don't worry
He thinks he's being very sneaky about making you drink more water He is so obvious about it, it hurts
You will definitely notice how Barbatos now almost immediately refills your glass as soon as it’s half full
Another one to openly ask if you’ve drank enough water that day
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tonyspank · 6 months
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WH0 R U 2???
Summary: Tara wakes up at her attractive Professor’s home.
Warnings: 18+ smut, g!p reader (literally think r is a service top??? idk? sorry for the dom’s & subs 😭)
A/N: pt.3 will not but smutty but bloody (there are different ghostfaces who r y’all suspecting?) also the smut scene was inspired by my b-day gift @wol-fica i love u
part 1
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Tara woke up with the world's biggest headache. When she sat up in the random bed she had just awakened in, she realized she was in a completely unfamiliar room. The walls were white, with some paintings here and there, and the room was filled with a faint scent of lavender.
Tara left the bed, her head pounding with each step she took. She stumbled towards the door, trying to remember how she ended up in this strange place.
As she makes her way down the hallway, coffee begins to fill her nostrils. She follows the scent and finds herself in a cozy kitchen, where a pot of freshly brewed coffee sits on the counter. "You're awake, a voice says from behind her.
Startled, Tara turns around to see her professor, and suddenly, all of her memories rush back to her.
"Leaving already?" Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. Tara hesitates, unsure of how to respond. She just nods, "Yeah, my... my rides here." Frankie keeps his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Tara can feel the weight of his scrutiny, making her even more uncomfortable.
"Oh damn, well, let me walk you out." Frankie offers, breaking the silence. Tara's heart races as they make their way towards the exit, unsure of what's going on. It was obvious Frankie wanted to get into her pants; he'd been following her the entire night.
You notice Tara at the exit, looking slightly flustered and uneasy. You quickly exit your car and walk to her. "You're her ride?" A brown-haired boy asks you.
"Yeah, I'm her ride," you confirm, giving the boy a curious look. The brown-haired boy gives you a skeptical look before reluctantly stepping aside, allowing you to approach Tara. As you reach her side, you offer a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her discomfort.
Tara's eyes drop to your attire, taking in your sleepwear. A wife-beater and black boxers that matched your black Nike socks. You notice this, "Sorry, I just woke up about five minutes ago."
"All good...Professor." Tara smiles. You shake your head, "Y/N is just fine. You're in my kitchen, after all. No need for formalities." Tara blushes and nods, "Right, sorry. Y/N it is then."
You chuckle softly, "No need to apologize, Tara. Can I offer you some coffee?" Tara gratefully accepts the offer, "I could definitely use a cup. Thank you, Y/N." She takes a seat at the kitchen table as you start pouring a fresh cup of coffee.
"Do you need me to drop you off?" Tara tries to take a sip of her coffee, but it's too hot, causing her to wince in pain spilling a bit on her hand. "Shit! That's hot!" Tara exclaims, quickly pulling her hand away from the cup. You rush to grab a napkin, softly grasping her hand and gently wiping away the spilled coffee.
"But, um, yeah, I'd love a ride if you don't mind," Tara mutters, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as you touch her hand. She tries to hide her blush by taking a deep breath and looking away, but the warmth of your touch lingers.
"Of course." Your phone begins ringing, interrupting the moment. You quickly apologize and grab your phone from the kitchen counter. You answer the phone without looking at the caller ID. A deep voice on the other end of the line.
"Hello, Y/N." You scratch your head, trying to place the voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it.
The voice clears its throat, and your ear is soon filled with Laura's laugh. "Haven't you watched Stab?"
"Ohhh! Yeah, I just did yesterday." You chuckle, realizing that the deep voice was an imitation of a character from the movie. "How's your mom? She doing better?"
Laura's laughter subsides as she replies, "She's slowly recovering, thanks for asking. The doctors say she should be back on her feet in a few weeks." You feel relieved to hear the positive update about Laura's mom and express your well wishes for her continued recovery.
"Anywho! I was just calling because I wanted to know how your first lecture was. Did everyone behave?"
You chuckle and respond, "Well, it was definitely an interesting experience. The students were well-behaved, and I was actually surprised by their level of engagement. It seems like they're all eager to learn and participate in class discussions."
Laura hums over the phone, "Are you sure you're talking about my students?" You laugh and say, "Seriously. They were great." Laura pauses for a moment before replying, "That's good...I have to go now, take care, Y/N."
You bid Laura farewell and promise to keep her updated on any future classroom developments. Tara speaks up when you set down your phone, "Was that Professor Crane?" You nod and say, "Yes, it was. She was just checking in on you guys."
Tara nods, taking a sip of her now slightly cooled-down coffee. "I'm going to take a shower, and I'll be back in a bit. Let me know whenever you're ready to leave."
"Wait, uh, do you know where my phone is?" Tara asks, glancing around the room. You remember plugging it up near the kitchen counter when you arrived home yesterday.
You point towards the kitchen counter and say, "I think it's over there, by the sink." Tara thanks you and heads towards the kitchen to retrieve it, but her head turns as she watches you leave the room, pulling your tank top over your head, revealing your toned back.
Blushing slightly, Tara quickly averts her gaze and focuses on finding her phone.
When Tara finally finds her phone, she realizes that she has missed several calls and messages, mostly from Sam.
But her heart truly drops when she realizes your name is at the top of her messages, remembering that she did indeed text you drunk the previous night.
Tara's mind races as she tries to recall what she said, hoping she hasn't embarrassed herself or said anything inappropriate. "You've got to be kidding me."
Tara mutters under her breath, scrolling through her messages with you. This was so embarrassing, and she couldn't believe she had let herself get so out of control.
"The hot professor whose filling in for Ms.Crane? What the fuck?" Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she reads her own words. She had confessed her attraction to her substitute professor, not realizing how much she had revealed in her drunken state. Panic sets in as she wonders what your reaction to the message might have been.
Tara's phone dings, indicating a new message.
Mindy: Tara where the hell r u?
Mindy:  Sam is literally is losing her marbles
Shit.
Tara: im about to leave in about 15 minutes
Mindy: that didn't answer my question lollll
Tara: just tell sam im on the way
Mindy: omg you're at professor y/ln's house
Tara's heart races as she reads Mindy's message. How did Mindy know she was at your house? She quickly types a response, trying to come up with something to get Mindy off her back. 
Tara: wtf? no?
Tara: ill ttyl
-
The next couple of months consisted of Tara staying back after every lecture to talk to you. Now, you didn't exactly mind, but it did make you wonder why she was suddenly so interested in your company. Tara wouldn't talk about her studies, rather, she would ask you about your personal life, your hobbies, and your opinions on various topics.
Or whenever you'd be leaving campus or just arriving, Tara would leave her friends, jog over to you, and strike up a conversation. It seemed like she always found a reason to be near you, whether it was wanting to walk together or simply to share a funny story. Her genuine interest in getting to know you better was both flattering and intriguing.
"That's all for today, guys." You tell the class, packing up your things. Everyone begins leaving—well, everyone except for Tara. You shuffle your papers together, double-checking that you have everything, before looking up to find Tara still standing by your desk.
"Did you watch The Hereditary?" She had mentioned the movie a few times before, and you could tell she really wanted you to watch it. You smile and reply, "Yes, I did! Scared the shit out of me."
Tara laughs, "I thought you said you liked scary movies?" You begin walking toward the door. "I do!"
"What's your favorite scary movie?" Tara asks, genuinely curious. You pause for a moment, thinking of all the horror films you've seen over the years. "Hmm, that's a tough one," you say, pondering. "Maybe Chucky."
"You're joking," Tara says, raising an eyebrow. "Chucky? The killer doll? That's more of a cheesy horror movie than a scary one." You shrug and defend your choice. "Well, it scared me when I was younger. Plus, it has that nostalgic factor for me."
Tara chuckles and shakes her head playfully, saying, "Alright, if you say so. But I'll have to introduce you to some truly terrifying films one day."
You smile, holding the door open for the shorter girl. "Sure, T." Tara ignores the fluttering in her stomach at the nickname, striking up another conversation. "You heading home?"
You nod and reply, "Yeah, I was planning on making this salmon dish I found a recipe for. The sauce is supposed to be really flavorful, and I've been craving seafood lately." Tara hums, "Sounds fun."
You pause your walk, making eye contact with your student. "Maybe you could come...?"
Tara's eyes widen with surprise, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "That sounds like a plan," she says, "What time?"
You check your watch and say, "How about around 7 p.m.? That should give me enough time to prepare everything." Tara nods eagerly, "Okay." You thank her and continue walking, "See you, T."
-
You were more than tipsy, this might have been the most fun you've had in a while. "I feel like a bad influence." You joke to Tara, pouring her another glass of wine. Tara laughs, "You're a perfect influence. You know how to have a good time."
You shake your head, standing up. "You can sit in the living room, I'm just gonna clear the table." Tara smiles and takes a sip of her wine. "Don't worry about it, I'll help you clean up."
Tara sets down her glass, standing up and helping you gather the dirty dishes and leftover food. Everything about this feels so domestic like you two are a married couple tidying up after a dinner party.
You start washing the dishes while Tara dries them and puts them away. The conversation flows effortlessly, making the task feel less like a chore and more like a shared experience.
On the last plate, you splash some soapy water onto Tara's shirt, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. "Oops, sorry about that!" you jokingly apologize, grinning mischievously.
Tara playfully flicks some water back at you, making you let out a laugh. "Oh, it's on now!" you exclaim, grabbing a nearby dish towel and flicking it towards Tara.
Tara runs out of the kitchen, laughing and dodging the dish towel, her wet shirt clinging to her as she goes. You turn off the water and chase after her, determined to catch her. While you reach the living room, Tara takes a sharp turn, causing you to stumble for a moment.
You quickly regain your balance and continue the chase, both of you enjoying the playful pursuit.
"I give up!" Tara calls out, breathless and giggling, as she collapses onto the couch. You slow down and join her, catching your breath and collapsing beside her.
You glance at her shirt, "Do you want one of my shirts?" Tara looks down at her damp shirt and shakes her head, still catching her breath. "No, I think I'll be fine," she replies with a smile.
Your eyes fall back on Tara, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly disheveled from the chase. You know you shouldn't be thinking about your student in this way, but it's hard to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you. And she was absolutely gorgeous.
You're caught up in your thoughts, you don't even notice how your body is subconsciously scooting closer to her, until your knees are almost touching. The air between you feels charged with tension, and you can't help but wonder if she feels it too.
A part of you wants to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but professional boundaries hold you back.
Tara turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you both share a knowing smile. Fuck, why did she have to look at you like that?
The intensity of the moment lingers, making it difficult to focus on anything else. You find yourself questioning the consequences of acting on this undeniable connection.
Tara leans in, and you follow behind slowly. You don't notice what you're doing until your noses brush against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.
Tara parts her lips slightly, her warm breath tickling your skin. You place a hand on her leg, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a passionate and electrifying kiss, leaving you breathless and craving more.
You place your hand on Tara's waist, pulling her closer to you and allowing her to straddle you. Tara can't help but respond, her hands finding their way to your hair as she pulls you in even closer.
When you pull away, your heart is racing as if you had just run a marathon. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but in that moment, it felt so right. The chemistry between you and Tara was undeniable, and the desire for each other was too strong to resist.
Your hand rises to Tara's face, your thumb tracing over her soft, plump lips. She closes her eyes, and a moan escapes her mouth. You kiss her lightly, your tongue tracing the outline of her mouth. She responds with a slow, passionate kiss, her lips trembling as you pull away.
"Please," she mumbles, grinding her hips against yours. "Fuck, T." What was this girl doing to you? Without hesitation, you capture her lips once more, this time with an electrifying fervor that leaves you both breathless. In that moment, you knew that there was no going back, you were stuck under her spell.
Your hands slither under her shirt, exploring the curves of her body, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. She moans softly, encouraging you to continue your exploration, and you do.
Skillfully, you unclasp her bra, and your fingers trace the outline of her breasts, teasing and caressing every inch of her sensitive skin. She arches her back, pressing herself closer to you, craving more of your touch.
You lift her shirt, revealing her bare chest, and your lips eagerly find their way to her exposed skin. The taste of her drives you wild, and you lose yourself in the moment, savoring every sweet and intoxicating sensation.
Your hands fly back to her waist, lifting her slightly as your lips trail to her stomach, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way.
She lets out a soft moan, her fingers tangling in your hair as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her body. Tara's breath hitches when you stand up, picking her up with ease. You carry her effortlessly to the bedroom, her legs wrapped around your waist, her body pressed against yours.
One thing is, you don't make it to the bed. Tara's back is now pressed against a wall, her heart pounding in her chest. You lean in closer, capturing her lips with yours as your hands roam over her body. You couldn't get enough.
You flip Tara, pressing her against the wall with a newfound intensity. Tara gasp, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling your strong grip on her hips and your lips trailing down her neck.
Your hands trail to her jeans button, fumbling to undo it as the passion between you increases. Tara's breath hitches as you slide down her pants, along with her underwear, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.
Without hesitating, you drop to your knees, eager to taste her. A loud slap is heard, followed by a gasp of surprise. Tara bites down on her lip, balling up her fist against the wall, feeling you spread her legs for better access.
You lean in closer, your tongue teasing her entrance as Tara's moans fill the room. Oh, shit. You were officially addicted to this girl. Every touch and every sound she made only fueled your obsession for her.
You couldn't get enough of the way she responded to your touch, her body arching and trembling with pleasure. Or the way she tasted, leaving a permanent mark on your tongue.
"Fuck..." Tara gasps, the side of her face flat against the wall as her hips buck against your mouth. You remove one of your hands from her ass, holding her hips steady as you continue to devour her.
Tara whines in response, reaching behind to tangle her fingers in your hair, urging you to keep going. Her moans grow louder, and her grip tightens. "I'm so close, shit..."
You intensify your movements, your tongue skillfully exploring every inch of her, pushing her closer to the edge. Tara's breath becomes ragged, you grip her with greater force, and she becomes more and more undone, on the brink of exploding in pleasure.
And just as she's about to tip over the edge, she lets out a guttural cry, her body convulsing in ecstasy.
"Y/N! Shit!"
You stand up, and Tara catches her breath, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm.
While Tara attempts to compose herself, you unbuckle your belt and slowly remove your pants and underwear, revealing your own heightened state of arousal.
Tara's eyes widen when she feels your intense desire pressing against her. You press a kiss onto her head, whispering, "I need you, Tara."
Tara turns her head, meeting you with a lustful gaze. Her lips parted slightly as she whispers, "I want you too, Y/N." You place a soft kiss on the freckled face that you've come to adore before taking yourself, rubbing against her in a slow, teasing motion.
Tara's wetness lubricates you, allowing you to slip right in with a breathful gasp. As you enter her, Tara arches her back and lets out a low moan, her body responding eagerly to your touch.
The feeling of her tightness around you heightens the nirvana, driving you both insane.
You pick up the pace, your hips meeting hers in a delicious rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies—a symphony of desire and passion.
Tara's arm reaches around, her nails dig into your neck while her moans grow louder and more desperate with every movement.
Tara's hand falls back against the wall as she braces herself against the overwhelming pleasure. Your own hand falls on top of hers, and for a second, Tara finds herself caught between the intensified sensations and the tender touch of your hand.
She exhales a breath of pleasure, and her eyes roll back in pleasure. You lean in to kiss her neck, and she moans in response. You move your lips down to her shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses along her skin. "You feel so good, T." You groan, your voice thick with please.
This time, without warning, Tara lets go, a long and loud moan escaping her lips as she arches her back in ecstasy.
She collapses against your chest, her eyes half closed, catching her breath as her body trembles with satisfaction. You hold her tightly, savoring the intimate moment shared between you both.
As you slowly untangle yourselves from the intimate embrace, Tara wraps her arms around your neck and plants a soft kiss on your lips.
You smile into it, placing a hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. The lingering taste of her lips lingers on yours, igniting a drive for more.
Tara moves onto her knees with your help, never breaking eye contact. Her hand wraps around your pulsating shaft before she kisses the tip, her tongue swirling around it.
The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly. You grab Tara's hair, guiding her movements as she takes you deeper into her mouth. "That feels great, shit..." you mutter, throwing your head back.
Tara's expert tongue continues to work its wonders, teasing and exploring every inch of you.
You begin moving your hips in rhythm with Tara's movements, finding a steady and pleasurable pace.
The hallway fills with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the wet, persistent slurping of Tara's mouth. "Yeah...just like that, Tara."
Your grip on her hair tightens, urging her on as she eagerly takes you deeper, her eyes watering at the sensation. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.
You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.
Tara can't help but think about how this night will shift your relationship. She wonders if this newfound intimacy will bring you closer or create complications that she didn't want to deal with. As you catch your breath, Tara's thoughts wander to the potential consequences of crossing this line.
1K notes · View notes
astroboots · 9 months
Text
Every You Every Me Issue #3
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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader
Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.
Word count: 5,500 words.
Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.
Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist
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You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.
Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer. 
Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire. 
As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.
You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?
Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.
Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.
Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.
Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood". 
As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.
There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.
Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?
If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.
So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?
That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?
You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time. 
Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book. 
With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:
‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’
You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.
There's nothing else to do but to wait. 
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You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.
There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.
You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.
Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.
That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.
You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?
You did.
You're sure you did.
He must’ve been here.
Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.
Right?
Your eyes flicker back to the window.
Or maybe you did close the window?
You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?
It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...
You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.
Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?
You did.
Yes, you definitely did.
Which means, he was here... Right?
You feel like you are going insane.
Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?
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You decide on a redo.
Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.
A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies. 
You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.
As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.
The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman. 
Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.
This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter. 
If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it. 
This note didn’t work. 
It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry… 
You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you! 
The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook. 
That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot. 
You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!
$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you. 
How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.
Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.
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When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.
The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.
On the left side this time, you note. 
It doesn’t look like he came. 
The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.
Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.
There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.
The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.
He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.
You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.
On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.
YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!
You were right.
Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.
He was here!
(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).
You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen. 
There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.
In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.
He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video! 
On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.
His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.
Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?
You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews. 
He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had. 
Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression. 
He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.
It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!  
The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.
Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.
To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.
Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.
He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.
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Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.
You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.
Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.
The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.
You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.
Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.
But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around. 
The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.
As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go. 
So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).
Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly. 
There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.
He does however eat three of your cookies this time.
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You get a little bit more desperate after that.
You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.
The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.
It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.
The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through. 
More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.
But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.
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You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow. 
The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.
In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.
By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.
There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.
Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.
Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.
Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).
His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.
Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill. 
He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now. 
Oh, he's worried.
He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek? 
The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.
The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why. 
He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen. 
You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.
He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness. 
It leaves you with more questions than ever.
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Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.
You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.
You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.
Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.
Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.
With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.
Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.
Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.
You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.
What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?
That's crazy!
…Right?
But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.
Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.
You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it. 
A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.
There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast. 
A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth. 
"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do. 
You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.
Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.
When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.
Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.
From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail. 
But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest. 
You want to see him again. 
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It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.
The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.
It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.
Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)
The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people. 
Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.
It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.
The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.
Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail. 
Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.
It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.
After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.
As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.
Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.
That would be a real dick move.
You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.
Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.
Then you stay there.
One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by. 
Five. Six. Seven.
A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.
Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.
If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.
You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.
Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.
"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"
You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.
There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.
He’s calling your name.
The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.
Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.
Again.
Fuck!
~ Next Issue
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Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.
I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!
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kingcrow01 · 3 months
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DC x Marvel Fic Recs
@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest
Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with
Peter Parker / DC Series:
The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone
Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.
Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana
So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.
Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby
Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.
Pizzaverse Series by Irisen
A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.
Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress
Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.
Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool
Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.
Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent
Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.
Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:
Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel
After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.
from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic
Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.
The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13
Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock
Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone
What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.
Echolocation Series by Firecat23
Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.
Back to our regularly scheduled programming:
Peter Parker slash fics:
Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker
Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones
Quiet Respite by @faeriekit
I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.
Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider
a shining spider web by Selador
Needling by LaughingFreak
How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05
My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:
The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin
After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.
Arachnomaly by @songue85
The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.
time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN
Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.
All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:
Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone
Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana
Read the initial notes first.
Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion
Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy
This Was Home by @emmacortana
The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics
and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913
What happens in New York by @violent138
A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba
Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo
One Dead Spider by Miellonek
If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.
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bigfatbreak · 1 year
Note
I love reading about all your AUs so much! They’re all so creative!
I’m curious about the people of Paris in your villains AU. Like obviously Adrian and Mari are the villains but how do the people of Paris fear them. Is it similar to Hawkmoth in the original timeline? Or are they considered more or less of a threat?
Keep up the good work and make sure you’re getting plenty of rest!
the issue is, Paris is really split on the whole notion. Nekydallon and Pavo clearly are willing to go to strange lengths to find the "miraculous" they're looking for, but neither of them attack citizens, and Nekydallon exhausts herself helping the people of Paris.
They cause trouble, but, nothing that... can't be fixed? Meanwhile, Felix Furvus and Coccinella seem to act as though they're Paris' defenders, but- some citizens ask - defenders from what?
Many people see Nekydallon as a faceless entity who's worth admiring, with Pavo as her stalwart representative into the world. Those who've been her champions don't lose their memories like they did with Hawkmoth, and note that she sounds soft and quiet, and delicate. She never demands anything, and she feels like a friend who's letting them borrow her power to do what they need to do, but, easier.
Doctors and Nurses find that, being bestowed with a power grants them to operate with better accuracy or with steadier hands, or they're capable of clotting and healing deathly wounds with mysterious powers. Some Akuma are capable of healing life-threatening illnesses or diseases, or at least helping people cope with the pain.
Firefighters find themselves with the power to spring water from their fingertips or to smother fire with the flick of their hands. Some can suddenly carry six people at a time without breaking a sweat to evacuate a house.
Retail workers in the middle of getting robbed suddenly have the power to fight back. People being kidnapped are suddenly granted the power to escape. Victims have a butterfly bond to them and they find the strength to stand up to their abusers and/or escape their clutches.
Marinette works very hard as Nekydallon. She can hear Paris' woes, and doesn't hesitate to try and assist whenever she can. The rest of Paris sees butterflies as a good omen for the most part, though some are deeply suspicious. However as a whole, its the black cat and ladybug that people are most suspicious of, as they hear a lot of talk but don't see results like with Neky.
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Text
Memories IV
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, amnesia
Summary: You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can't even recall his existence.
Words: 3.6k
A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I know the fandom has been going through a tough time lately, and I just wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, especially your mental health. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Stay strong! ❤️
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
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The blood-red sun sank slowly below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the world. The sky was a tapestry of oranges and purples, fading into blue and black as night began to creep in. You stood at the entrance of your home, feeling strange tingles in your chest as you paused on the threshold. Simon was behind you, his tall frame blocking out what little light remained outside and casting a long shadow across the front hall.
“Welcome home,” he said softly, breaking the silence.
You stood there, unable to move. You felt like your limbs were made of lead and rooted to the spot. Your mind was a tempest of emotions; you were grateful to be free from the hospital walls, but deep down, terror lurked. Nervous anticipation rose inside as you feared what truth lay ahead about yourself that could shatter the delicate mirrors of your own reflection.
Simon seemed to sense your hesitation and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“You alright, love?” he asked, concern in his voice.
You nodded slowly, staring into his dark eyes, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him. Simon had been by your side every step of the way, watching as you slowly pieced your life back together. He had been there for every physical therapy session, every doctor’s appointment, every setback and triumph.
He had remained a constant in your life, a source of strength and support when you needed it most.
You slowly turned to face him as Simon’s hand remained on your shoulder. You looked up at his face, illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room, and took in his sharp features. His jawline was chiselled, and his eyes were piercing, exuding a sense of confidence and ease that you found reassuring. You felt a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him, to feel his lips on yours and forget about the world outside. But instead, you stepped back and shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts.
“I’m okay, thank you. It’s just strange... being back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Simon nodded in understanding, his hand still on your shoulder, and gestured for you to follow him into the living room. You walked past him, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, and took in your surroundings.
After months in the sterile hospital room, everything felt surreal now that you finally got to come home. The world outside looked different as if it had changed in some way while you were confined to the hospital bed. You felt a sense of trepidation as you took in the sights and sounds of the city around you. It was all so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. You didn’t know how to navigate this new world without your memories. But as you stepped inside the house, a sense of comfort washed over you. The scent of lavender furniture polish wafted from within the house, helping to ease the tension in your body.
Simon placed your bags down with a thud like an anchor being dropped from his shoulders. He seemed to sense your unease and gently steered you towards the living room. The familiar surroundings filled you with warmth and peace, and for a brief moment, everything felt just right.
The living room was bathed in soft light, its walls lined with framed photos and paintings, some of which seemed vaguely familiar. You began to explore them, feeling an odd mixture of surprise and recognition as your gaze swept across each face in turn. Some were of Simon and you together, others were friends you had no recollection of. Yet still, something about them made your heart feel warm.
As you studied the photographs, Simon watched quietly as if waiting for you to come to some realisation. But the memories remained just beyond your reach. You could almost taste the bittersweet nostalgia on your lips, yet nothing solid materialised.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you let your fingers brush over the frames, tracing the outlines of the people in the photographs as if trying to remember them.
You stopped at one picture, a group photo of Simon, you, and several others at what appeared to be a night of celebrations. Everyone was smiling and laughing, their faces filled with joy. You looked at each person in the photo, trying to place them in your memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Who are they?” you asked, pointing to the group in the photograph.
Simon came over to stand beside you, his arm brushing against yours. “These are your teammates— our teammates. The ones who’ve got your back in the field and in the mess. They’re family.”
You shook your head, “I don’t remember them,” you said with a hint of frustration. 
Simon placed a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. “It’s, uh, it’s alright, love. You’ll remember soon enough. Take your time. It’ll come to you, alright? So no need to be too anxious.”
But will I really? You wondered silently to yourself.
With a sigh, you turned away from the wall and towards Simon with an uncertain smile.
You noticed that he had changed out of his usual hoodie and was wearing a black leather jacket with a white shirt, looking more put-together than usual, as if he was trying to impress you. The tattoos on his forearm peeked out from under the sleeves of his jacket, adding to his edgy persona.
He frantically spent the day before scrubbing and scouring the house until it shone in perfect preparation for your long-awaited arrival. He felt like a nervous teenager on his first date, desperate to make a good impression. But he knew that this was different. This was about making you feel at home, helping you regain a sense of familiarity in a world that had become so foreign.
You turned to look at another photo, this time of Simon and you with a dog. The memories suddenly came flooding back, and your eyes lit up as you remembered the dog’s name.
“That’s Riley!” you exclaimed, feeling a slight sense of victory in finally remembering something.
“Riley! Here, boy!” you called.
But there was no barking, no sound of paws running across the floor. The house was eerily silent, save for the sound of your own breathing.
Simon’s expression turned grave as he looked at you, his hand still resting on your back.
“No, that, uh...Love,” Simon he said softly.” He... He passed, somethin’ like years ago.”
Your heart sank at Simon’s words, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You felt a sense of overwhelming loss, as if a part of you had died with the dog. You tried to remember the last time you had seen Riley. Still, the memory was elusive, like a dream that faded upon waking.
Simon saw the tears in your eyes and stepped forward to wrap you in a tight hug. You breathed him in, the smell of his cologne mixed with something else, something comforting like home.
You attempt to grasp at Riley’s memory, but your mind is foggy, and all you can recall is a faint trace of his affection. The anguish seizes you as you try to imagine the days spent together, playing fetch in the park and snuggling up on the couch, but all that remains are empty spots in your heart and mind. Burying your face in Simon’s chest, a harsh truth crashed down on you: You couldn’t even grieve properly because you didn’t remember the moments that connected you and Riley.
Simon’s stomach churned with guilt as he watched you suffer the same agony of Riley’s loss all over again. He had been so busy trying to make everything perfect for your return that he failed to factor in how hard it would be for you to come to terms with what had been taken away. Yet, despite the sorrow and regret, a glimmer of optimism flickered in his chest that perhaps you’d find the strength to remember even more. But for now, Simon knew you needed space and time to come to terms with everything that had happened.
As the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your thoughts, Simon’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it calmed the storm raging inside you.
When Simon finally pulled away, he gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t wanna spring that on you.”
You shook your head, feeling the weight of the loss. “It’s okay,” you said. It wasn’t.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, not now,”
Simon nodded, his gaze softening. “Alright... listen ‘ere, love. You have been eatin’ those crappy hospital meals. You wanna get something new in your body and your system, yeah?” he said gently as his fingers brushed against yours in a comforting gesture.” I’ll cook somethin’ proper. You’re gonna love it.”
You nodded in agreement, not having the energy to argue. It had been a while since you’d had a home-cooked meal, and the hospital food left a lot to be desired. You followed Simon into the kitchen, taking in the warm, cozy space. It was small but had everything you needed, including a small dining table and chairs. The countertops were cluttered with various kitchen appliances and utensils, but everything was clean and tidy.
Simon rummaged through the fridge and pantry, his eyes scanning the shelves for something to cook.
As he gathered the ingredients for a simple pasta dish, you watched him move around the kitchen with ease. There was something about the way he moved, with such grace and purpose, that made you feel drawn to him. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and relentless in his pursuit of whatever he wanted.
You noticed how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt as he chopped vegetables, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of attraction in your chest. You almost felt guilty for feeling this way about a man you didn’t remember. You knew you two were engaged, but it felt strange to be drawn to someone you had no recollection of. Being with Simon felt familiar, like coming home even though you couldn’t remember why. It was as if your body recognised him before your mind did.
The hospital breakdown was a pivotal moment in your relationship, and it seemed you two had struck a deal.
And yet, even though your memory didn’t seem any clearer, there was still a sense that your outlook had changed.
You seemed more vulnerable, more reliant on him for comfort and guidance. The barriers and walls you used to keep him away with were crumbling, and the two of you were starting to form a real connection.
This is progress, Simon told himself, hopefully. This is an improvement.
Simon felt both terrified and excited by this newfound closeness. He was scared to get too close too soon, scared of the pain of rejection if your memory did return and you chose not to stay with him. But at the same time, he could feel himself falling even deeper in love with every passing moment.
He wanted to give you some space, but his heart ached for yours.
You wished there was some way to go back in time and remember who you used to be together—but there just wasn’t. You didn’t know how to be the person Simon remembered, and that scared you. You wanted more than anything to make him happy, but it felt like no matter what you did or said, it wouldn’t be enough for him.
After dinner, he showed you the bedroom. The room was simple but elegant, with a queen-sized bed in the centre and a large window overlooking the backyard. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bedding was white and fluffy, inviting you to sink in and drift off to sleep.
“I...I don’t want to take your bed.”
Simon smiled warmly at you. “It’s our bed, alright?” he said, his hand reaching out to take yours. “I ain’t gonna fight you over who needs to sleep where. I have a couch; lemme sleep on it.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”
Simon shook his head, his hand still holding yours. “Look, love. We’re both tired here. I want to take care of ya and make sure you’re comfortable. So, you don’t gotta fight, and I ain’t gonna be arguing, or I’m gonna have to tie you down, and force a sleep mask over your eyes, yeah?”
“Okay, Okay,” you laughed. “Thank you,” you said softly.
Simon leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Alright, you rest up. I’ll see ya in the morning,” he said before turning to leave the room. 
You watched him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over you. You wished you could remember what it was like to be with him, to feel his touch and his love.
Laying in bed, the day’s events replayed in your mind like a movie reel. The memory of Riley’s passing still weighed heavily on your heart. Still, there was something else tugging at the edges of your consciousness. It was like watching a horror movie with the sound turned down low; you could sense fear and trepidation from the dimly lit scenes playing out before you, but you couldn’t make out any details.
Your heart raced as you tried to piece together the fragments of this unknown memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving you even more frightened than before.
You tried to sleep, but deep in your chest, you felt the beginnings of fear build. You turned over and over again in bed, growing more agitated by the minute. The shadows on the wall from the lamp beside it stretched out like malevolent spirits that wanted nothing more than for you to be afraid. Nothing to see here, they would say as they writhed and clawed at you with their formless hands, almost touching you before receding back into the darkness. Your feet move slowly through the darkness. The floor is cold under your feet as you step lightly through this unfamiliar place that once was your house.
“Damn it,” you said, the fear in your voice palpable in the silent room. You reached for the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and flooding the room with light. The shadows scattered, leaving nothing but the familiar sight of the bedroom. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.
It was just a nightmare, you told yourself. It’s just a silly, irrational fear.
But deep down, you knew it was more than that. Something was lurking in your subconscious that you couldn’t quite grasp but knew was there. Something that made your skin crawl and your heart race.
You got out of bed, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor.
Your feet move slowly through the darkness, the floor creaking beneath your weight. You move towards the door, your hand reaching out to grasp the doorknob. As you turn it, the door swings open with a low groan, revealing the dark hallway beyond.
Your heart thunders as you take the first step into the hallway. The darkness seems to encroach on you, swallowing up the light from the bedroom. You take another step forward, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. You could hear the light snoring coming from Simon on the couch, but it didn’t bring you any comfort.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the darkness waiting for you.
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness consuming everything in its path. You felt like you were walking through a nightmare, one that you couldn’t escape from. You tried to call out for Simon, but your voice was hoarse and barely audible.
Suddenly, you heard a sound from down the hallway. It was faint, but it was there. A soft whisper, calling out your name.
Your heart leapt into your throat. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel a presence in the darkness. You could feel its breath on your neck, its fingers brushing against your skin.
You turned around and ran towards the couch where Simon was sleeping when you saw a figure emerge from the shadows. It was a woman, her face twisted in a grotesque grin.
You could feel your feet sinking into the ground as if the floor was swallowing you whole.
You tried to scream, but the darkness choked your voice. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were sure it would burst out of your ribcage. And then, suddenly, the darkness lifted, like a veil being lifted from your eyes.
Just a dream, a nightmare that left you gasping for breath as you sat in bed. Your heart still raced, and your skin was slick with sweat.
You looked around the room, relieved to see that it was just a dream. But the feeling of terror lingered, its tendrils wrapping around your heart and refusing to let go.
You slid out of the bed, your bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and you needed to shake it off.
You moved quietly to the living room, past the vase of flowers on the table, their petals soft and pliable beneath your fingers.
Simon lay asleep on the couch near the window, bathed in moonlight that filtered through the blinds. You approached him, hovering over his still form like a guardian angel. The outline of his face was sharp yet softened by shadows; you could see the rise and fall of his chest under the comforter he had kicked off while sleeping. As you considered waking him, his eyes fluttered open.
“you good?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and concern.
You jumped, startled by his sudden awakening.
“Oh, I’m... nothing,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just couldn’t sleep and wanted to come out here for a bit.”
Simon frowned, his eyes dark with concern.
“C’mere,” he said, lifting the edge of the comforter. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was a good idea, but the weight of loneliness was too much to bear. As you nestled closer, his arms wound around you, and the press of his chest at your back reassured you that everything would be alright. His breath on the nape of your neck mingled with the scent of lavender fabric softener, and his heartbeat against your spine slowed to match your own. His touch calmed your racing mind until all that remained were the gentle brushstrokes of his fingertips along your arm.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkened room.
You hesitated, not wanting to burden him with your fears, but then decided to tell him. “I had a nightmare,” you said softly, feeling embarrassed.
“You want to-?”
“No,” you stopped him. You didn’t want to talk about it, not wanting to relive the terror of the nightmare.
He didn’t push it. “Okay... If you have that nightmare again, I’ll kick that thing’s arse, I will. Now, close your eyes. You need your sleep, darlin’.” his voice was low and soothing.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his protectiveness and felt a sense of security as he pulled you closer to him.
“Sweet dreams, okay? And close those eyes of yours, dear,” he murmured, kissing your head.
You smiled, and soon, with the warmth of his body next to yours, you fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a shushed argument coming from the front door. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, groggy and disoriented.
You got up from the couch and walked towards the front door, your bare feet padding against the hardwood floor. As you got closer, you could hear the muffled voices growing louder.
You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should interfere, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open, and sunlight streamed through the opening, flooding the dark living room.
“Go away. Now.” Simon said, his voice ringing with anger, “I swear to bloody god, I’ll break your fakin’ nose.”
He was a silhouette in the murky morning light, feet planted firmly as he stood before an unfamiliar figure. His shoulders were tense, and a single bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His face was concealed by the usual black balaclava that melded seamlessly into his dark clothing.
The other man seemed taken aback by Simon’s outburst. Still, he quickly regained his composure and stepped forward, revealing himself in the dim light.
“C’mon, I just want to see ‘er”.
The Scottish lilt pierced through the thick silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine.
Like an electric shock, you felt a sudden jolt of energy as images of the past suddenly emerged from the fog of amnesia. Images, sounds, and conversations flooded your mind as fragments of memories all clicked into place, and you remembered him.
“Soap?”
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Tags: @8sy-errah8 @yyiikes @spencerreidisbae123 @oranoyaora @sae1kie @originaldeerhottub @cr4shposts @caramlizedtomatoes  @ilovehyperfixating @ghostlythots  @dotcie
409 notes · View notes
levitiquee · 6 months
Text
I'll follow. (Levi x reader)
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"Holy sh-" A curse escaped you when the figure in the hallway caught your eye, jumping on your feet. You clutched your heart, bracing yourself against the wall trying to calm yourself as you looked at him.
"You scared the shit out of me."
Levi turned his head towards you. "You." He said.
"Levi." You gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.
"Nice to see you're alive."
"Nice to see you're walking around."
He cocked an eyebrow.
You sighed. That was too far.
"I'm sorry. It was a joke. A bad, insensitive joke, but it was a joke."
Levi nodded, shifting his weight on his crutch.
"It's been a month. I haven't even seen a glimpse of you till now."
"Eh." You shrugged, walking over to him to stand beside him on the balcony. His eyes followed your movements. He leaned against the wall, relieving the weight off his damaged leg and giving you space. You matched his stance, folding your hand on the railing.
"You do realize you can't stay inside your room forever?" He glanced at you with the corner of his eyes.
You squinted when the afternoon light hit your face. Unused to the brightness as you haven't seen the sun for a long time.
You spent your days in your dorm, curled up in a bed. You slept, woke up, sneaked off to the kitchen and bathroom when needed in odd hours, to avoid the people.
You haven't seen anything really. Or even heard anything. You don't even know about anything that's going on. You're too tired to. You don't even bother turning the lights on in your room.
It was strange, now. Being in your dorm. You tried your best to not think about it much but your dorm was so oddly empty, eerily silent. All your roommates were gone. Sasha and the other girl dead. Mikasa gone to where you have no idea.
Yet, there was a sort of peace in there. A sense of comfort. A shelter from the world outside. You were scared of the cruel reality that waited outside the door. So you made your own solution, you decided to not step out the door at all.
So It's the first time in a month, you caught a glimpse of life outside. It's the first time, you've seen him in a month.
And you didn't even dare admit it to yourself, but maybe...a part of you was avoiding him as well.
But you missed him.
The way he leaned over against the railing for support, how he winced at every slight movement, it sent a dull ache through your heart.
You sighed. "Try me." You said. "I saved the world, give me a break. Also, the doctor gave me bedrest."
"For a week only." He pointed out. "And you didn't save the world alone."
You groaned.
But you knew it was true.
That people wouldn't just let you stay in your room all day. That people weren't taking your isolation too well and there's only so much, your unspoken 'hero of the war' privilege can get you. Sleeping for 1 month straight was just too much.
But generally speaking, you saved the world. You should get to do whatever you want.
"You're gonna lecture me, captain?" You mumble. "I'm too tired to care, I'm afraid."
"Don't talk back. This is unhealthy for you."
"So what? That's my business. Let me rot away to death."
He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and that look alone erased your attitude.
"Yeah, sorry." You muttered the apology quietly. Old habits die hard. You didn't give two fucks about the authority usually but one glare from Levi was still enough. And as much as you liked fucking around with him, that never changed.
"Horseface told me you've shut everyone out."
You frowned in annoyance. "What, is this a therapy session? Are we going to talk about our feelings and get all sappy?" You said sarcastically.
Again, Levi didn't say anything. Only shot a warning look towards you in response. Seems like he wasn't in much of a mood for your jokery.
And to be honest, you weren't either.
So you sighed.
".. I didn't." You answered quietly. "I'm just tired."
"All you do is sleep." He frowned.
"Yeah but like, I sleep, and then I get tired of sleeping, so I go to sleep again-"
"Why," He exhaled sharply. "Is it so hard for you to just converse like a proper adult without making fun of everything?"
"I don't like serious conversations." You huffed, folding your arms.
"So I've noticed." He sighed.
"Why'd you care anyways?" You muttered under your breath.
Levi pursed his lips.
"I don't." Was all he said.
Silence lasted a couple seconds.
There was something in the air, you could feel it. It was thick and it wrapped around your throat like vice, the pounding in your heart warned you of something to come.
Your eyes flicked to Levi and his blank face, wondering what was going through his head.
You followed his gaze, eyes catching in a field further away. Children played along it, you can just make out the outlines of them.
Happy kids, you thought. They don't have to stand awkwardly besides their captain as he's deep in thinking God knows what.
"Are you.." You asked after a pause. A pang went through your heart, the words stuttering. You hoped he wouldn't notice the slight crack in your voice. "Are you resigning..?" A calmer, more braced tone.
And you knew before he even answered. "Yes."
You nodded.
Your heart twisted itself into a painful lump of knot.
But you understood.
So why did it hurt so much?
You looked up at the sun. You hoped the sun would burn away the tears that was welling in your eyes, you hoped it would burn your soul along with it.
Is this how it ends? How you part ways?
"You're too old anyways." You finally said in a light-hearted voice. Like you weren't fucking breaking inside.
He snorted. "I can be an 89 year old grandfather and I'll still be able to take you down with one finger."
"Uh-huh."
You watched Levi as he fidgeted with his fingers, his other hand going over the bandaged knuckles. You winced at the sight of the missing digits.
"What are you going to do?" He suddenly asked.
"Me?" You were caught off guard. You hadn't expected the sudden steer of the conversation. But you considered, thinking.
I don't know, Levi. You tell me. You wanted to tell him.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do if you're not here.
But you only shrugged. "I was thinking of sleeping my life away. Make up for all the nights I couldn't."
He scrunched his face, clearly unimpressed with your choice of way to spend your life. He looked like he had a lot to say about it but then shook his head, probably realizing it's worthless arguing with you.
"You aren't coming back?" You asked then. More of a statement really.
"Is there a reason for me to?"
Me, you thought.
Say my name.
"I guess not." Maybe you will shrivel up and die.
He wouldn't even look at you.
And seconds passed, seconds turning to minutes.
Your heart beat, pounding with the seconds.
And then, Levi spoke.
"Hey kid?"
"Yeah?"
"Wanna get the hell out of here?"
You stared, eyes wide with confusion. But then his gray eyes locked with yours and you finally, finally realized.
Oh.
Oh.
Relief wrapped you around it's warm, warm embrace. And for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe properly.
You nodded. "...yeah."
And then you almost snorted because his face was so very flushed. And somehow you knew, it wasn't the sun.
"Was that a confession, Levi?" You asked after a while, almost tiredly, eyes falling shut.
"...would it be so wrong if it was?" His voice was quiet. So low you could barely hear it.
"No" You shook your head. "No, I suppose not."
He nodded, shoulders slumping. And you wondered if he felt the same wave of relief you felt.
You wondered if he waited all those years for you as well.
"I can't," Levi suddenly blurted out, his tone was hesitant, unsure. "I can't promise you anything, but I swear I'll try. For you. For us."
You swallowed, every word sinking into your skin, healing wounds you didn't even know you had. But you took it.
He'd try. For you, he said.
"I'll go."
Levi looked up.
"I'll go with you. Wherever the hell you want to."
".. you will?"
"I'm your second, aren't I?" You grinned at him, eyes sparkling. "I'll follow you straight to hell if you ask me to. Im stuck with you for life."
And you could've sworn Levi almost smiled. Just the barest hint, but it was there.
"What a pain in the ass." He closed his eyes.
"Hey, you're the one who asked!"
You felt a hand on your hair, ruffling it. The only way he ever showed affection. The ever familiar gesture was comfort. A reminder. You didn't even know how much you craved his touch until he touched you.
You'd be alright, you thought.
You and him.
It'd work out.
You'd be alright.
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(kinda inspired by this song lol)
@sad-darksoul @anxious-chick
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phoneuserhana333 · 7 months
Text
.°˖✧ part 2/3: neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧
tags: NSFW!!!, sick!reader, mention of nausea and illness, hand on throat, cliffhanger, ellie appears.
i acc hate how this part turned out :( i hope it’s somewhat enjoyable, barely proofread</3 sorry :((((
PART1 — PART2 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC
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• you successfully forced abby into a temporary truce. sort of. falling sick and losing your voice, motivation and strength left you low on groceries and medication. so you opted to sleep through the nauseating headaches and eat oatmeal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. it was bad bad.
• so bad, in fact, that you sought out abby’s help. sure, she was a seemingly pretentious, stuck up ER nurse with a mean streak and a hatred for anything fun, but she had the medical knowledge you desperately needed to get back on your feet. plus, she definitely had pain relief medication lying around her house.
• this lead to a strange deal to form between abby and you; nurse anderson agreed to get food and medicine and deliver it to you until you got better, in exchange for three weeks of peace and quiet. hesitant, but desperate, you agreed. this was a huge win for abby. all she wanted was you to be quiet, after all.
• on the first day of your deal, you didn’t let abby come inside, claiming that you were quarantining and demanding she leaves the tote bags full of groceries outside. you barely managed to pull them into your home and the heaviness made you break a sweat, causing your fever to worsen. you texted abby that you were feeling worse and she managed to convice you to come over tomorrow after work for a check up.
• the day after, a defeated patient greeted abby at the door, avoiding her questioning gaze. she sighed and entered your home with a smaller bag filled with medicine and her briefcase with equipment that her dad gifted her. abby was a keeping her side of the deal to a t, she was determined to get on your good side, hoping you’d tune your partying and constant noisiness down for good.
• upon entering your home, the blonde was stunned. bookshelves, a grand piano, papers everywhere, even a chess board. you were smarter than she gave you credit for. the woman let you lead her to your bedroom where the air was thicker and the blinds were pulled down, hiding a bed full of tissues and forgotten mugs in the dark. fuck, her condition might be worse than i thought, abby thought to herself as she stared at your messy floral sheets, or she’s lazy, which might be even worse.
• abby checked you with the care of someone who has been in the medical field for decades, taking her time with you. your temperature was high and you were shivering, claiming to be cold while burning up. abby telling you to pull your shirt up wasn’t helping your trembling state either.
“take me on a date first, w-why dontcha?”
“sorry, y/n. i don’t date neighborhood brats.”
• you pout, too tired to argue, jumping when you feel the freezing stethoscope abby placed against your bare back.
“ow, ow, ow- abby what the hell?! s’cold!”
“god, you’re such a crybaby! here-“
• abby pulled away and warmed the metal with her hot breath, rolling her eyes as she did. your pitiful appearance was only surface level, a cruel reminder to abby that you weren’t a doe-eyed, helpless girl next door she got to take care of and feed soup, much to her disappointment. her cute little face is hiding a literal devil, abby muses, listening to your irregular heartbeat.
• what abby wasn’t aware of however, was how often she thought of you as cute. it was always- “that cute brat”, “…kind of endearing if she wasn’t so annoying” or even “a handful”, complaining to manny on the phone with her darkened eyes glued to your ass, watching as you rushed past her home to catch a train. abby was getting lost in thought, her brain full of aforementioned handfulls and soft plump skin and maybe even her landing a rough spank on- fuck. no. that was wrong.
• … right?
• you, on the other hand, were wide eyed and choking on words. abby placed her warm hand on the small of your back, forcing you to straighten up. she was moving the chest piece around, occasionally telling you to breathe deeper, in a voice that your hazy mind registered as surprisingly hot.
• what really made your heartbeat skip, was her thumb rubbing your back, tracing the elastic waistband of your pajama pants and then slipping underneath to explore the hidden skin. was abby aware she was doing this?! why weren’t you saying anything?!
• … why did it feel so good?
• abby pulled your shirt down, packing away her equipment as she started to speak, offering you a final diagnosis (“you’re so dramatic, it’s just a cold”). the blonde was peeking at your shaking form from the corner of her eye, watching you pick up your tissues and mugs, trembling with barely open eyes. it may be just a cold, but you were obviously drained.
“… ugh. lay down, okay? i’ll take these downstairs.”
• abby rolled her eyes and took over cleaning up your cups. she ignored your protests as she walked downstairs to your kitchen to rinse your dirty dishes in the sink and get your dishwasher started. when she looked up, she saw a few photos on the cupboard above the sink, memories of you and your friends.
• on the one in the middle, you were hugging two girls, playfully kissing one on the cheek, caught mid laugh. her gaze softens. you were a good friend. but a horrible neighbor. for a second, abby lets herself get lost in her head, her eyes staring at the polaroids, unblinking.
• the next few days went by quickly with daily visits from abby. you started to get better, taking it easy and trying to cough quietly as to not bother your neighbor. abby was tired; december was coming up and she was unsure of her plans for the holidays. work was becoming more stressful and the ER was full of people- well, more than usual.
• abby stopped visiting as frequently when she noticed you were getting better, instead sending you wave and tell you off for not cleaning snow off your doorway or wearing a jacket she deemed to be too thin.
• until she stopped acknowledging you altogether. abby was purposefully ignoring you and you just couldn’t find out why. you were used to her eyes following you around, guarding you in some way, like some weird nurse-angel. why was she slowly becoming a ghost you could barely catch a glimpse of? had you done something wrong?
• instead of simply confronting abby, you chose to ignore her back, sending cold looks towards her whenever you crossed paths on the sidewalk. abby, on the other hand, would blush, thinking about how she saw you in only your tiny maroon panties a week ago, naked and on display in your window. since then, she couldn’t look at you, scared that you’d somehow find out that you were the reason she’s been moaning at night the past few days. seeing you on the street would make abby shut eyes shut tightly, fighting her mind as it conjured the image of your pussy and your hard nipples hidden by lacy curtains on a cold december night.
• one thing lead to another, and both of you ended up alone on christmas eve. abby swore she was just going to check on you, see if you were alright. the sight of you with puffy eyes and pouty lips, wrapped in a festive blanket made abby feel fuzzy. before she knew it, she invited you over.
• emotions running high and a somewhat romantic candlelit dinner resulted in you falling into abigail anderson’s bed. she fucked you until morning came, overstimulating you into oblivion and not letting you go until she was satisfied. and after that, she made you hot cocoa.
• despite pretending to be nonchalant, you were a goner. abby had wrapped her hand around your neck and reached down your throat to squeeze your heart. you wanted abby to be yours so bad.
• abby, however, was still hesitant to commit to you. you were the best sex she’s ever had in her life, your hot mouth and tight cunt left her aching for days after, running home to you every night after work, but did she like-like you? what if you didn’t like her back? abby was used to being non-committal, so why was she so enamored with the idea of sharing her life with you?
• this inner turmoil didn’t stop abby from eating you out on your counter top, fingerfucking you while taking a bath together, letting you grind against her thigh in her bedroom.
• god, why was everything so intimate all of a sudden? abby ground you harshly on her chiseled leg, moving your hips with force and pulling a nipple, anything just to hear you whine. with your forehead pressed against hers, you whispered “please, abby. need you-“ and she was gone. her pace quickened as she moaned “good girl, goooood girl…” over and over again. you truly were the best girl ever, abby thought, as you rode out your high on her, now wet, leg.
• sex this heavenly landed abby in your house on new years eve, attending one of your infamous (and unexpectedly fun) parties. she met your friends, dina and jesse. and… ellie. she recognized the two women- they were on one of the polaroids in your kitchen, ellie was the girl who’s cheek you were kissing.
• ellie was too close to you for abby’s liking, touching your back and brushing a finger against your lips after you took a shot of tequila. why was she telling you to “take it easy, babe”, why was she calling you babe? abby felt her blood boil as she rolled her eyes at the overly flirty tone ellie used, taking a sip of her favorite wine you made sure to get just for her.
• just when abby thought that it couldn’t get worse, ellie tried to make a move on you.
“so, y/n. any-uh, plans on who you’ll kiss tonight?”
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