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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

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What if instead of Wednesday being in the room when Bianca knocks on Xavier's door, he's cuddling with his new girl? Hides under the bed or closet or whatever

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

You rubbed soft circles into Xavier's waist where his shirt was riding up while slowly kissing. His sketchbook had been abandoned and kicked to the end of the bed, no longer of first interest. Despite being alone, neither of you had any further intentions.

Xavier hummed at your touch and leaned into you like the soft and needy kitten he was. You smiled and continued your caresses.

Your and Xavier’s relationship was completely unknown to your Nevermore peers. After his very public breakup with Bianca Barclay, Xavier didn’t want to flash his new relationship to everyone — especially Bianca. She didn’t call the shots and tried many times to get Xavier to take her back, but he refused every time.

Besides, sometimes things are better if you keep them just yours.

A knock on the door forced you and Xavier to break apart. You didn't want to, very comfortable entangled with him on his bed, but there was a possibility this was the house master passing for his evening checking.

Xavier pushed you into his bathroom in prevention and closed the door. The floor was still wet from his shower, but it wasn’t dirty like under a bed.

He tamed his hair a little and opened the door, finding a smiling Bianca on the other side. Slamming the door in her face was tempting, but Xavier didn’t want to make a scene.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her inside. ‘’You're not supposed to be up here,’’ he said flatly.

‘’Good to see you too,’’ Bianca snarked back.

‘’How did you get past the house master? Did you use your siren powers?’’

‘’Not while wearing this.’’ She touched her amulet necklace.

Xavier walked away from her, keeping a distance between them. ‘’What do you want, Bianca?’’

You could hear in his voice that his interest in her was completely gone, but she refused to bury their relationship. She kept searching for a spark through the burned embers to revive the flame. Unfortunately for her, Xavier was fueling another fire.

‘’I wanted to see how you’re doing. I’m sorry about Rowan. I know you and him used to be close—’’

Xavier huffed. The last time he heard her talk to Rowan was in fencing class and she called him lazy.

‘’Since when do you give a damn about Rowan?’’

‘’I care about you.’’

He couldn’t deny that. Although she made him doubt his own feelings for her, Bianca wasn’t an evil soul. She always cared about Xavier, whether they were in a relationship or not.

Bianca stepped up to him by his bed and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. ‘’We were good together, Xavier.’’

‘’Were we?’’ he asked, looking up at her. ‘’Or was that how you wanted me to feel?’’

The walls of the bathroom were thin enough for you to hear their conversation close to perfection. Thin enough to hear the lingering pain in Xavier’s words, still hurt by Bianca’s past actions.

‘’I made one mistake and you can’t forgive me—’’

‘’There is nothing to forgive. I just want to move on,’’ Xavier said, tired of going over the same things every time they talked. ‘’I broke up with you, remember? Now, please leave before the house master comes for bed-checks.’’

Regardless how sorry she was, the manipulation of his emotions was something he could never forgive Bianca. His whole life is controlled by his father in a way or another; the only thing Xavier has control over is his emotions and if someone take that from him, he’ll have nothing left.

She accepted her defeat and turned to leave, but on her way out, Bianca caught something on the adjacent empty bed. A jacket.

‘’Isn’t that Y/N’s jacket?’’ she asked, recognizing the clothing.

For a short few seconds, Xavier thought he had been caught. He found himself stammering while searching for a quick but good enough lie.

‘’She…she forgot it in the quad a-and I was planning to give it back to her tomorrow.’’

Bianca raised an eyebrow, doubting him. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow at the lake. Make sure to get enough sleep…or not.’’ Her blue eyes shifted to your jacket. ‘’I’m gonna crush you anyway.’’

After her departure, Xavier groaned. She knew you were there.

—

Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n @poppet05 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @rhaenyraswife @teaganthemorningstar @aphex2winn @moompie @ifevilwhyhot @oliviah-25 @spenglerslime @wetwilliam02 @yellowcupcakes @haileyismoo @theyslayallday @wrldofsage @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @toylewestinnyc @meme-queen-1999 @rottenstyx

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix

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luveline · 7 months

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i have a request idea! maybe aaron x reader where the reader is bullied/ being maltreated by her roommates like that one remus headcanon you filled? i love protective hotch but i get it if you don’t think this goes with him! your fics give me sm comfort thank you for writing them <3

thank you my love. fem, 1.5k

cw bullying/ unfriendly roommates

You can't believe it's Aaron's car. No way is his timing this bad. There's just no way he's home from a case, that he's chosen to visit without calling first, today. Right now.

He's out of the car before you've so much as wiped your cheeks dry. You've never seen him park that fast.

"What are you doing out here?" he asks, looking you up and down. "Let me help you up, sweetheart."

Sweetheart so soon after seeing you —you must look terrible. You take his hand and stand up off of the floor, unperturbed as he brushes down your butt and thighs.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" he asks, soft, "It's wet, honey, you're crying– What's wrong?"

You remember suddenly that you have someone on your side. Shaking, you tuck your arms under his and cross them behind his back, the fabric of his suit jacket familiar under your trembling fingers. You feel like a kid again at the mercy of other people's cruelty, but this hasn't been something you could run away from. The meanness takes root at home. But now Aaron's here and he's holding you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head delicately, his voice a murmur as he reassures you, "It's alright." He presses his cheek to the plane just adjacent to your eye. "Honey, please don't cry."

"They smashed my vase," you say into his chest.

"Who?"

"My roommates, Aaron, they don't– don't like me." The vase was a gift. Special to you, irreplaceable, you've brought it safely from one place to another without ever having broken it. It was in the kitchen, housing your most recent bouquet of flowers from Aaron. "Macy said it fell over, but they were laughing, and they said the same thing about my bag, my– my sketchbook. They keep ruining my things, they throw away my food, and they laugh at me all the time, even when I'm not doing anything. I know they are."

The laughing is honestly the worst part. Like your reaction isn't even worth considering, it doesn't bother them that you're upset, they just giggle and tell you to feel better. Sometimes they apologise like it wasn't them. Sorry about that, maybe don't leave it somewhere it could get ruined? with a smile that hardly counts as sympathetic.

"How long has this been happening?" he asks.

Months. "Since we met, at least."

Aaron makes a noise you don't understand. You wait for him to say more, but he only rubs your back diligently for a time before ushering you into the car. A bag of takeout has gone cold in the passenger seat, the backseat busy with his go bag and a new bouquet. He's very, very good to you.

In the car, he reaches across the console to fret over you, stroking your damp cheeks and rubbing your shoulders. You feel as though all your energy has been stolen. All you can do is lean into his hand as he wipes away your quiet tears.

—

Hotch watches you cry in his passenger seat and feels pretty angry. It's not often like him to turn to anger when the people he cares about are upset. He's more of a problem solver. But when it's as bad as it is now, he doesn't bother restraining himself.

He knew there was something about your roommates that you weren't telling him. Obviously, as the partner in the relationship who doesn't have roommates, Hotch hosts the majority of your 'sleepovers'. It's easier and awards more privacy most of the time, and honestly, he's not at the age where he's very interested in bumping into people on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He'd prefer to be home, and much prefer to have you there.

He was wondering about asking you to move in, but there never seemed to be a good time, and right now your answer would likely be influenced by the insecurity of your home rather than true desire to live with him. He knows one day, he'll ask, and one day you'll say yes, (or he hopes), and so he keeps it in mind but otherwise proposes a temporary arrangement.

"Let's go get some of your things and you can stay with me for a few days," he says.

"Are you sure?" you ask. "What about Jack?"

"He'll be happy for the company. Trust me."

Hotch isn't shallow, but he likes being that little bit taller than you, and he's no brute, either, but he knows he's intimidating at times. He'd never use his position to scare private citizens in civilian disputes, but seeing the amusement in the eyes of your roommates turn to nervous recognition when he follows in behind you makes his day.

She's not alone, he thinks, putting his hand to your back.

He might put their behaviour down to jealousy. Not so much that they wish they were with Hotch, there's hardly been any desire for him coming from either woman, but your happiness. You're a nice girl, a good girl, good in the sense that you don't need to knock others down to be happy. He treats you accordingly.

He pointedly doesn't greet them as you show him the corridor down to your room. Your door is ajar, which he doesn't like, but you don't say anything about your things.

"What do you need?" he asks.

"How long will I stay?"

"However long you need to. If you want time to feel better while we manage this, or you need to move. I'm with you." He again thinks of the lack of a lock. "I'd say bring your valuables, honey. So nothing miraculously breaks."

He ends up packing for you. He knows you well, and he's more than aware of what you'll need to survive for a week. What clothes, which pyjamas you favour, even your skincare. He has a career in identifying small details, but it's a better duty knowing you so well. He does that for fun.

You stop by the door and turn into his side, hesitant to leave. He hates seeing you wilted, usually so bright. "They're talking about me."

Your roommates are indeed whispering in the kitchen and Hotch would bet money that you're correct, but he doesn't want to encourage that line of thought. It could easily become a seed of doubt that leaves you anxious and paranoid.

"I'd hope they were discussing their own bullying," he says.

You rest your forehead on his arm. "What did I ever do to them?"

"You're happy. You're grateful and loving, and some people can't stand it. They can't rope you into their misery," he guesses. "Have you considered the possibility that you're a bad roommate?"

You laugh into his jacket reluctantly. "You know I'm not."

"Maybe you behave with me," he says, rubbing the top of your shoulder. Your laughter draws a silence in the kitchen. Hotch can't help himself. "Don't forget to turn your security camera on before we leave," he says, holding a finger over his lips.

You smile. "Oh, I almost forgot about that."

Your roommates aren't so full of cheer as you go. At least without a lock on the door, Hotch can be confident that his… bending of the truth will buy your possessions a few more days of safety. You don't have to tell your roommates that you're leaving, evidenced by your bags, but Hotch is feeling awful, and he says, "Do you have your bathing suit? Your passport's in the bag."

"What is wrong with you?" you whisper through laughter as the door closes behind you both. "I had no idea you were this quick to tell lies."

Hotch pulls your bag further up his arm to take your hand. "I wasn't lying about anything, your passport is in the bag, and I asked a question. If that question implies that you're about to have a fun weekend, that's coincidental."

He doesn't want your roommates thinking they have any power over you. Not an inch of it. And he doesn't want you thinking that they do either, knee deep in plans for the forthcoming days. He's going to spoil you to death if he can, starting with a new vase for your waiting flowers, and a good squeeze on the way down to the car to prompt you into relaxing.

"Sorry about all the fuss," you say.

He kisses you twice. "Don't think of it that way." Rather boss-toned, he softens, "I'll deal with anything for you. I'm sorry they've been cruel."

You exhale. He can tell from the tug of your eyebrows that it's partly for his benefit, and the more lax set of your shoulders that it's partly genuine as you brush it off. "Doesn't matter. Just an excuse to spend more time with you, yeah?"

"Yes," he says immediately. "You're right, honey. Exactly right." Starting with one of his clumsy neck massages and a much more practised kiss, he thinks.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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voyeurmunson · 5 months

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A Taste: Eddie Munson One Shot

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: this is a series of one shots written in Eddie’s POV about his sexual experiences. ;) this one is the first time he got a taste. ;) I hope you enjoy. 🖤 Chapter list found here .

Part two:

“Just the regular?” I ask, my eyes shifting from her eyes straight to her tits. Fuck.

“Mhmm..” she hums lightly, a slick smile spreading on her pretty lips. This time she’s in a little black dress. Short. Fuck, is it short… the material clinging to her curves in all the right places.

I grab the little baggy from my lunchbox trying to shake all the dirty thoughts from my mind and spin around to see her plopped down on my bed flipping through my sketchbook.

“These are really good, Eddie.” she smiles sweetly, flicking her eyes up to me.

This was the last thing I needed. Her seeing my dorky drawings of dragons and elves. I could feel my face getting hot. She was so far out of my league and I was already nervous enough.

“They’re nothing. Just some random shit.” I try to laugh but it comes out slightly hoarse, making me groan out loud.

“You okay?” she giggles as she sets the notebook to the side, shifting slightly causing her dress to ride up her thighs. Her legs part just a bit, the smallest glimpse of her panties now on display.

“You look pretty. Really fuckin’ pretty.” The words fly from my lips before I can stop them and I watch as her lips curl into a smile.

She pats the mattress beside her and I make my way over, sitting down at least a foot away from her. Fuck, she makes me nervous.

“I won’t bite.” she teases, scooting herself closer so her leg is now pressed against mine.

“You wanna smoke?” I ask as I pull a pre rolled joint from behind my ear.

“Mmm, please.” she hums, her eyes flicking to the joint in my hand before landing on my lips again. I place the joint between my lips, striking my zippo, bringing the flame to the rolling paper as I inhale deeply.

Smoke fills my lungs as I offer her a hit. She smirks as she takes it between her finger and her thumb, taking a long drag for herself. My eyes remain on her mouth, watching as the smoke rolls beautifully from her plump lips as she exhales.

We pass it back and forth a few times, a nice buzz settling across both of us. She’s closer somehow, I can feel her against my side as I turn to look down into her pretty eyes. She takes a deep hit, her fingers landing on my chin, gripping tightly as she pulls me close.

Fuck. My lips brush hers as I part them, allowing the smoke to transfer from her mouth to mine. And then it was over. I shoved my tongue in her mouth, tasting the weed as our tongues swirled together, both of us panting into the kiss.

Her hands grasped at my shirt taking two fistfuls as she pulled me down on top of her. My hands were shaking just a bit as they began to roam across her body. Holy fuck.

And then I was between her thighs, her tiny dress shoved above her hips as I yanked her panties down, flinging them to the side.

My tongue glides through her folds, her slick coating it completely. The moan that left my body was one I’d never heard before. I hook my arms under her thighs, pulling her closer as my eyes fall shut, my tongue alternating between flicking and swirling, my lips moving erratically across every part of her wet pussy.

“Eddie, fuck.” she moans softly, her fingers threading into my curls as I open my eyes to look at her. Fuck me.

Her lips are parted, her eyes locked on mine as I begin to suck gently on her clit. “Yes, baby. Mmmm..” she breathes, her hands holding my head in place.

“Feel good?” I gasp as I come up for a bit of air. I’m fucking drunk on her taste as I meet her eyes once again.

“Mhmm. Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.” she whimpers making my dick fuckin’ throb.

I move my hands to her inner thighs, spreading her legs even more, pressing her knees hard into the mattress as I slide my tongue as deep as possible earning the sweetest little cry from her.

“Oh fuuck..” She lets out a soft whine as I begin to fuck her with my tongue.

My hips rut against the mattress, my cock aching for any fucking friction as she falls apart beneath my tongue. I think I’m gonna cum.

“Eddie, holy shit baby. So good.. feels so fucking good.” she praises and my eyes almost roll to the back of my head. I move back up to her clit, tugging the sensitive bud between my teeth making her hips jolt up just as I slip two fingers into her pretty pussy.

“Fuck! J-Just like that.” she cries as I curl my fingers into that soft spot inside of her. I can feel her all over my fingers, sticky and warm as I begin to fuck her.

My brain goes fuzzy. Her taste, the way she feels clenching around my fingers, the lewd sounds of her perfect pussy sucking my fingers in again and again. Her back arches off the bed as her nails dig into my scalp, the sound that comes from her lips is downright pornographic as she soaks my hand making me come undone. I can feel my warm cum making a mess inside my jeans as I moan into her sweet pussy.

I remove my fingers, bringing them to my lips, sucking them clean of every bit of her cum as I kneel on the bed.

“More, sweetheart. Fuck. Want you to ride my face. Please.” I beg, desperation laced in my tone. I needed more. I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Yeah, baby? You gonna make me cum again?” she laughs breathlessly, pushing my chest hard making me fall to the bed.

“Anything for you.” I whisper, watching in awe as she crawls toward me.

She moves to straddle my face, her dripping pussy hovering just above my lips.

“Good boy.” she purrs.

🖤Tag list: @hideoutside @chrrymunson @trinitywifey @hellfirenacht @emsgoodthinkin @blood-puppy @gri959 @girlfuckthatwhore @joannamuns9n @harrycanyonmoonn @mrsjellymunson @leelei1980 @little-wormwood @melifluorei-d @mrsmarch64 @avavolturi @munsonsblunt @darknesseddiem @yujyujj @eddie-munsonsbitch @ali-r3n @oliskitten @jessicakennedy957 @costellation-hunter @spenciesprincess @siouxiesiouxtryhard @josephbuttoneyes @jamiecb66 @amoiur @eddiernunson @floredaqueen @manda-panda-monium @tclick73 @moviefreak1205 @lil-quinnie @asimpforthe80s @phoenyxrayne @luv4peterba1lard @mrsrdlw @bug-boy32 @hanahkatexo @wasabimia @zeysartzone

I’m not sure if I missed anyone but I’m so sorry if I did and if you’d like to be added or removed just lemme know 😘🖤

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

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spiceofvy · 7 months

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SKZ - Reader get's insecure during sex

cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, insecurities, body image issues, comfort, lots of praise, bottom reader (Minho), mirror sex (Minho), overstimulation (Jeongin), my Changbin bias is very obvious in this one

Chan: Kisses you softly after your confession. Worried about what made you feel that way. He feels so sad that someone or something in your past made you so insecure, that you even feel uncomfortable around him. Wants to make sure you don't ever feel like that again. "Let me take your mind off it, I promise I will make you feel better." From now on whenever you have sex he spends a ton of time complimenting you and caressing your body. Worshiping you, holding you close as he tells you again and again how lucky he is to get to see you in such a vulnerable position.

Minho: when you tell him he is taken aback a bit. He loves you so much, so he can't understand how you could not love yourself. "Can we try something? I wanna show you how beautiful you are." as he pulls you in front of his mirror, and fucks you in front of it. Making you look at yourself as you cum. Holding your face tightly so you can't break eye contact with yourself. After he is finished he carries you to the bathtub and slowly washes you body, whispering sweet praise into your shoulders.

Changbin: This man does not allow any kind of insecurities in his bedroom. He will worship it all out of your system. He lays you out in front of him and starts kissing every piece of skin. Every curve or angle. Every knuckle, every spot. While whispering the sweetest words into your ear. Calling you pet names. Tells you how beautiful you are to him. How perfect. How grateful he is to be able to touch you. And touching you he does. He probably makes you cum during so. And afterward, he holds you, not caring if he came too. He holds you and kisses your temple, promising the world to you. "So pretty. So perfect. My stunning love. I will not let you believe that you are anything but beautiful."

Hyunjin: He looks you dead in the eyes and pulls out his sketchbook showing all the stunning pieces of art he did inspired by you. Portraits of you with intricate sketches and watercolors are all so beautiful that it takes your breath away. "Would you call my art ugly too? Then why do you insult my muse like that?" He then makes some very slow love with you. Whispering in your ear how he hopes to someday draw you in a situation like this too.

Jisung: "Noooo babe, you're too hot to be insecure." He tries to pull a joke to put you into a better mindset. But in reality he is so heartbroken because he loves you so much and he wants you to always feel like the amazing person you are. Kisses you for a long time as you slowly makes love to you. He softly touches you all over you body, caressing your skin, telling you all his favorite parts of your body. Which are to no surprise: all of them.

Felix: He looks so devastated. He knows how terrible body image issues feel and to know that you feel like that too, it breaks his heart. He believes that you are too amazing to go through stuff like that, and that the world is so unfair to make you feel like that. Bites back some tears as he holds you tightly. "Please don't ever question your beauty." You have a deep conversation about insecurities, and how to deal with them. Afterwards he starts kissing you softly, and you making out turns into slow sex again.

Seungmin: He understands how you feel. He struggled with insecurities before and so he puts everything he has into making sure you can feel better. He whispers soft compliments into your skin as he slowly pushes you over the edge. During aftercare he wraps you in your favorite blanket and as he feeds you snacks he tells you about how he overcame his own insecurities. "You are the most beautiful person in this world, believe me please."

Jeongin: Oh sweet soft boy. He takes it slow. Pressing kisses to your skin. Holding you softly. He tells you how amazing you look to him. How lucky he is to have you. As he slowly kisses down your body. Whispering love into your thighs, looking up to you like you're the world. "Please let me show you just how beautiful I think you are." He makes you cum a lot that night. Whispering the softest words into your ear as he slowly pushes you into overstimulation.

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byunpum · 1 year

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Hi hope you're doing well 💗

Can i ask a one-shot with a shy reader who doesn't really show affection to neteyam. BUT one day she wants to make the first move so she kiss him without any warning. AND neteyam go FERAL bc it turn him one (or he can just be a blushing mess ) it can be smut or just fluff if you are okay with it ofc :)

Pairing: Neteyam x human reader

Tags: crushes, Cute, baby boii neteyam.

Warning:the characters have 20's

Note: As you know my drafts had been deleted. For example this one was going to be much longer. But still, I did what I could remembering what I had already written. I still hope you like it a lot. I didn't want to make this smut, because the next post …. get ready!!! buajajaja

AVATAR MASTERLIST

Neteyam's method of showing affection was hugs, touching and caressing. While on your part it was to turn red as a tomato every time neteyam came closer than a foot away. You had the biggest crush that could exist in all of pandora. And that's saying a lot. Loak was always making fun of your sketchbook that was full of sketches of neteyam, no matter what he was doing. You would sit far away and draw him. But you didn't get too close to him and you didn't talk to him much. While loak, kiri were very close to you, you kept your distance from neteyam. You thought that if you got too close, you would ruin everything.

On the other hand, neteyam thought you hated him. Yes… you hated him with all your soul and he knew it. Every time he tried to reach out to give you a hug. You would open your eyes wide and pull away. Or when they were playing with each other. It was truth or dare… and he chose dare. Spider dared him to give you a kiss. Neteyam got close to your face, he was excited… he saw your face turn red and you pushed him away. Getting up from your place and running out to your room. Everyone was silent, looking at each other. Neteyam was heartbroken, the boy was in love with you and you hated him.

But what bothered him the most was your closeness with loak. Why loak? i mean…the boy was not a good match for you. And yet you were more affectionate with him, it wasn't like you were on top of him all day. But if you let loak put his arm on your shoulder, or let him play with your hair a little bit. Or sit next to you. It was killing him, because he wanted to have that contact with you.

Neteyam had taken the day off, and decided to go to the small station that the humans had set up on one of the islets of the Metkayina clan, after the battles. Norm and several scientists were welcomed to the islands to help. And you were part of that group. "Hey…nete" greets norm as he sees the boy enter. "Hi norm…how are you?" neteyam greets politely. As he tried to look for you somewhere in the small lab. "Are you looking for Y/N?" says norm, teasing the boy a little. Neteyam laughs nervously. At that very moment you emerge from one of the storage rooms. You shift your gaze past neteyam.

"Y/n…h-hello!!!" says neteyam excitedly following a few steps behind you. His tail wagged back and forth, until you felt him tap you on the arm. "I'm so sorry" neteyam moved away a little bit. "Don't worry nete" you looked up to look at neteyam, you saw how excited he was. Maybe he was happy about something else. Norm walked over to you. "Y/N honey…please I need you to help me get some samples. I need you to bring me some leaves of this plant" Norm showed you a picture. "This plant grows in the forested area of this island" you take the tablet to look further into what you were going to look for. "Why doesn't Neteyam come with you?" says Norm, looking at Neteyam to give him a wink. Neteyam laughs a little but shifts his gaze so you don't spot them.

"Ahhh I don't know if…maybe" you say as you muddle over your words. "It's no problem…I'm free" neteyam almost screams with excitement. Once again his tail taps you on the arm, you nudge it a little. "Ready…well go then, I need them before nightfall" says norm, refocusing on his work. "Let's go neteyam" you say, taking the sample tube and handing it to neteyam to put in her waist bag. You stand a little quietly as you watch neteyam's hands slide down to his waist. He looks up to see how you are looking at him. "All good" the boy teases. "Yeah yeah come on" you push him a little. You could push him all day, if this was going to be the only form of contact with you, He was going to let you manhandle him all you want.

They walked a bit through the wooded area, you were in the front and neteyam was in the back enjoying the view. "hey why aren't you wearing the outfit I gave you?" asks neteyam following in your footsteps. "I've kept it…I haven't had a chance to wear it" you say. You hear neteyam chuckle a little, but you decide to ignore him. Sometime later you see the plant near a small waterfall, you walk over and sit down on one of the rocks. Neteyam sits down next to you, pulling out the sample tube. " wow…this plant is beautiful" you say, as you pluck several leaf samples.

"You say you can't use my gift…but look" neteyam touches the bracelet on your arm. "loak gave this to you last week and you are wearing it" spits neteyam waiting for you to react. " nete… this is a accessory, you gave me a complete navi outfit" you say trying to take the sample tube from his hands. Neteyam moves his hands away. "So? I made it myself for you…but it's okay. Everything I do sucks for you," Neteyam says. You remain silent, he just said that you think he disgusts you. "What the hell are you saying?" you say. Neteyam relaxes a little, you can see how frustrated he was.

"Why are you avoiding me…why don't you want me to be by your side? Even now…" neteyam takes the tube and then you watch as he takes your hand and places the object there in the palm of your hand. You didn't want to say anything, you didn't dare. You didn't have the courage to tell him that the only reason you didn't approach him was because you were a nervous wreck around him. You quickly took the samples, and started on your way to the lab. On the way back to the station, neither of you dared to speak. You arrived at the lab, entered and noticed how it was empty.

"He asks me for these samples and then disappears" you complain, as you place the tube of samples on norm's desk. You turn to see neteyam, he was sitting on a improvised couch that norm had created for the size of the avatars. "Neteyam… you don't disgust me" you say, causing the boy to look up. "Really?" the boy scoffs a little. You walk over to neteyam and sit down next to him. "Didn't you like my gift?" asks Neteyam. The boy looks at you, see how you avoid looking at him. "You see…you don't even want to look at me and " you get up from the couch, getting on your knees so you can reach neteyam's face in your hands. You pull him close and kiss him. Neteyam's eyes open wide. You pull away and sit quietly beside him.

Neteyam felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. His cheeks grew warm, as he broke out in a cold sweat. You had kissed him." I have a notebook dedicated only to you… and I don't come close because I don't know how to act around you" you say shyly. Before you begin to speak, you feel neteyam's lips collide with yours again. But this time you let your emotions fly and do what they have to do.

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denwritesandcries · 7 months

Text

Work of Art – Hazel Callahan

Pairing: loser!hazel x artist!reader

Summary: You join a fight club just to spend more time with your pretty friend, Hazel Callahan. The fact that you're running out of time to finish an art project is just a detail.

Word count: 3,5k.

Content: loser!hazel trying to be smooth, sylvie being a chaotic ala, cursing, flirting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, my questionable comedy, a little blood at the start, reader is a SIMP.

Note: This came up to me after the ‘these girls are ugly’ scene and I had to make a dramatic story about it. I'm so soft for this character, I just wanna hold her and tell her how beautiful she is.

English is not my first language.

There's a sketchbook opened on your lap, a coal pencil on your hand and a fight happening in front of you.

Technically, that's what you were supposed to be doing too – fighting with someone – it was fight club, after all. Instead, you were sitting against a wall, hastily trying to finish a sketch for your art club project.

In your defense, you weren't even going to join this self-defense club in the first place, having been quite happy just occupying yourself with your art club after school, but your friend Sylvie came up to you one day completely excited about the idea, saying that she really wanted to participate, but that to keep going they needed more members and there enters you.

You said no right away, claiming that you would end up getting overwhelmed trying to balance both clubs with all the meetings, but Sylvie could be so convincing – more like insistent – with her methods, even shouting "PLEASE COME!" in a hallway full of people during classes, that you ended up giving in to when it became too embarrassing. Therefore, you agreed to go to a meeting without the promise of staying.

You regretted that decision and swore to burn Sylvie’s stupid beanie in the first punch that hitted you. You were terrible at fighting.

After being beaten up by a girl you didn't even know the name of, you ended up with a split lip and a bruise forming on your cheek and were ready to go find your friend and gently let her down by telling her that this really wasn't your thing, that is until Hazel Callahan approaches you.

Hazel. The same Hazel who sat three seats away from you in history class for four years, with whom you usually paired up during assignments but didn't talk much. The same Hazel who is standing in front of you with a weird smile and a washcloth in her hand.

“Uh…” you start, not quite sure what to say, “Do you need anything?”

"Oh!" She seems to realize that she's been silent and staring at you for too long, shaking her head, "No, not really, but you looked like you needed it," Hazel holds out the washcloth to you.

You notice that she's doing her best to look casual, shrugging her shoulders with fake indifference and pointing to your bleeding lip with the hand holding the cloth while the other is stuffed into the pocket of her baggy, ripped jeans. The sight is so captivating that it makes you smile even when you don’t want to, with the sudden feeling that you two should interact more.

“Oh, what a gentleman," you joke when you accept and take the cloth from her hand and are happy with the fact that the fabric is dark when your blood stains it, "You came to comfort me after spending all this time watching my ass being kicked?"

Her eyes widened in panic and Hazel squealed like an alarmed puppy, "No!" She exclaims, "I didn't mean that, really. It's just that you seemed upset and I–"

“Haze, it’s okay,” you interrupt and reassure her with a gentle hand on her arm, “I’m just messing with you.”

She shakes her head, still in denial, her face red: "But you weren't that bad."

You snort, any trace of upset seeming to leave your body, “But it was bad.”

Hazel looks away from you while playing with the rings on one of her hands, she seems to want to tell you something, so you wait in silence until she has the courage.

"So…" she starts, "Are you staying? At the club, I mean."

'No,' you want to say, 'This place is completely chaotic, I have other things I'd like to do and I bet I'll get my ass kicked every time I go up against someone here.' But Hazel is looking at you with her head cocked to the side and bright, hopeful blue eyes and what kind of monster would you be to deny something and wipe that look off her face?

“Maybe.” you answer instead, an uncertain smile on your face, “I’m still thinking about it.”

That seems to be enough to satisfy her and you quickly turn around, putting the bloodstained cloth inside your backpack and packing your things to leave when you realize that you two were the only ones left in the place.

"Walk with me?" You nod towards the exit for Hazel to follow you and she does so shyly.

As you walk around the school grounds your bodies are close enough that your shoulders touch as you walk and the interaction brings you a surprising amount of comfort.

"You know," Hazel starts again, her voice at a high pitch, she clears her throat with a fist against her mouth before continuing, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but uh–" Hazel stutters, face red again, "It would be really nice if you stayed.”

You turn your head to look at her side face, her nervous attitude warming your heart in a jarring way and you suddenly wonder why you and Hazel have never been closer before, even though you've technically known each other for so many years. It seemed almost unfair to be deprived of her company for so long.

“This fighting thing really isn’t for me,” you shrugged and continued before a look of disappointment could wash over her, “But I think people make it worth coming back for.”

You hoped she would notice the flirting tone in your words; Hazel could be terrible at reading between the lines.

"Oh, you're right!" She replied with an excited smile, "I managed to make a lot of friends there since it started, maybe you can too!”

You raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for Hazel to realize what she said just to tease her, and she did, panicking.

"I didn't mean that you don't have friends!" She shouted with a wave of her arms, "I just– I just–"

Hazel's calm facade falls completely and you feel a laugh grow in your chest as you laugh openly. She takes a moment to compose herself before relaxing a little when she sees that you're not bothered.

"Okay, got it." you say with a final giggle, "Don't worry, I'll show up since it would be so nice if I stayed."

Sure, she may not have understood your flirting the first time, but her red face up to her ears and shy gaze stuck on the floor could only be an indication that she had now caught on.

When you reach the point where your paths part, you can't resist talking to Hazel one last time:

"Haze," You call in a relaxed tone as she heads to her car, "Is that really a women's empowerment club?"

Hazel smiles as she opens the door, without any nervousness this time, "I have no idea, but I like it."

You think you might like it too if you were going to see her like this more often.

When you get home that day, with your untouched art supplies weighing down your backpack, there's a message on your phone left from Sylvie. That little bastard had left without you even noticing.

slaygirl:

hey what u throught about the club

*thouth

sHIT

*thought

runned right home when I saw your mad face lol

You snorted with a roll of eyes. You had already made the decision anyway, there was no point in actually being mad at her.

you:

well I guess is not THAT bad

I'll make the sacrifice and participate

slaygirl:

HELL YEAH LET'S GOOO

told u would like it

You ask yourself one last time if you should really do this or not; the times between the fight club and art club meetings were so close together, it could easily turn into a mess. Then you think about Hazel and the way she seemed enchanted by the idea of you being there.

Fuck it, you thought, you can handle both.

You couldn't handle both. That was why you found yourself against that wall now, running out of time and without the proper sketches you were supposed to present later.

It was a relatively simple exercise that you had to do: draw everyday landscapes in charcoal pencil by sight. The problem is that you didn't have time to draw the requested amount and you haven't had much inspiration other than classrooms and parts of the school lately.

Luckily, no one really minded when you decided to opt to just be a spectator today; PJ and Josie being too busy flirting with Brittany and Isabel and Sylvie being just excited about getting into a fight with someone.

"And what are you doing there?" Hazel's voice scares you as she sits down next to you with a curious look and a small smile at the sound of your surprised squeak.

You had no idea where she had come from, having quickly talked to her as soon as you arrived and then gone straight to your task, but you were very happy to have her there now. You've been getting closer over the last few weeks since joining the club, just as you wanted, which has made all of your juggling between tasks totally worth it.

"Shouldn't you be beating up someone?" You dodged the question, giving her a look of fake reprimand.

She scoffed with a hand gesture, "I'll be right there, I just passed by to check on you," She pointed with her chin to the notebook with you, "So?”

You shrug, "Just trying to finish this project, but nothing seems to make me want to draw." You turn the sketchbook so Hazel can see the simple outline of the open area in which you practice defense, your hands are stained with coal pencil and the sheet is messy with outlines of bodies overlapping the paper.

For the confused look on her face and the slight tilt of her head, you can tell Hazel doesn't quite understand what you mean, but she gives you a reassuring smile anyway.

"You're talented, I'm sure you'll figure that out soon."

You feel a stupid smile growing on your face and you can't help the way your voice softens, "Thanks, Haze."

She returns your smile for a moment, but quickly looks away, seeming to want to break off the interaction.

Hazel breaks the silence that suddenly settles in: “Will you teach me?”, she asks.

You look at her confused, “What? Drawing?”

“Hm-hm,” She nods with a pout, “I always see you drawing during class and I'm terrible at it.”

You find her extremely captivating.

“Okay,” you snort, “I’ll give you drawing lessons if you give me fighting lessons. You’re better at this than me, than everyone here, actually.”

And then she gets nervous again, cheeks colored a soft red, stammering, “Oh– I– hm, alright.”

You think maybe she's going to say something more, but Hazel gets up and shakes her head like a puppy and your heart warms, before saying goodbye, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder and running off to find a partner for the day's exercises.

A sigh leaves your chest as your gaze follows her as she walks, deciding to watch a little until you get the courage to finish your work.

Hazel is paired with a girl you had never spoken to but who you were sure was in your English class. A very pretty girl, by the way. It annoyed you how close they were and the way Hazel touched the girl so she could fix her position before they started fighting, the same way she did to you when you asked for help with your movements the other day; and it annoyed you even more the way the girl seemed to lean into her touch, exactly like you did on the few occasions when Hazel touched you for more than a few seconds.

Damn, you wish you knew the girl's name so you could actually get mad.

Your stomach turned uncomfortably the more you watched the duo, didn't that girl know that Hazel is... what? Your girlfriend? Your friend who you flirt with? This was practically the same as nothing. You had nothing. You couldn't be mad.

But man, you are annoyed.

With a shake of your head, you look away from the scene and open your sketchbook again, this time to a clean page. Better get back to work.

When you look up again, Hazel has the girl trapped in her arms. The way her best features are marked is unfairly hot, your silly jealousy ends up forgotten in favor of admiring how beautiful she is.

Unconsciously, you begin to trace the outline of her strong jaw onto the paper, letting the simple body outline you had begun take shape.

To you, Hazel was a work of art in every sense of the word, from her appearance to her most unusual mannerisms. Everything about her seemed to scream art and drawing her was an extremely satisfying action. It wasn't even the first time you had portrayed her, having made small sketches during the times you worked together in class and given them all to her – you wish you had kept at least one now –, maybe that's why she asked you for lessons anyway.

Either way, anything involving Hazel is more interesting than your original project.

You notice the way her hair falls over her face, the dark color contrasting with her big blue eyes, and you think it's a shame you didn't bring any supplies you could use to color them. There is a small cut where a yellowish bruise is on her cheek; Hazel seemed to always be recovering from some injury, even though she was the one who won most of the fights, not that you would count – liar, you did.

You draw the outline of her nose and lips with the practiced precision of someone who has done this many times before; she's wearing a dark green button-down shirt, one of your favorites on her, along with baggy black jeans and an old pair of vans; her hands are missing their usual rings and there are little green dinosaurs in her socks.

You won't add all of it, of course, it's not a full body drawing, but you can't help but notice every little detail about her.

Time passes without you noticing, your project remains completely forgotten while you draw Hazel from memory, no longer needing to turn to the annoying vision of her and the other girl. When the meeting is almost finished, Sylvie approaches you smiling and looks over your shoulder.

"Dude!" She exclaims in a knowing tone, “So that’s why you actually agreed to join the club!”

“Shh girl, do you want everyone here to know!?” You whisper-shouting and quickly pull the beanie she was wearing over her nose tightly, ignoring the chocked ‘fucking rude’ that Sylvie lets out.

“You should tell her,” Sylvie declares, because of course she would understand right away that you have a crush.

“What?" You ask, alarmed, “Like right now?”

"Yeah!" She pushes your shoulder in encouragement, “The day is almost over, it’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.” Sylvie shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t just go there and tell.” You mumble, “And I have things to do.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure she likes you back!”

“And how can you know that?” You asked.

“How come you don’t know that?” Sylvie replied, “It’s kinda obvious.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but I’m not going to tell her anything now.” You insist stubbornly.

Sylvie looks like she's about to say something else, but a tricksy smile forms on her face when she sees someone approaching.

"Tell what?" Hazel's voice coming from nearby startles you and when you turn your face to find her, she's alone, no sign of the other girl in sight.

You were about to stutter something in response – and most likely make a fool of yourself – but Sylvie was quicker.

“Oh!” Your friend exclaims in false innocence, “I was trying to convince her to show you her drawing, but she’s such a perfectionist.”

You elbow her in panic and Sylvie lightly tugs at your hair as she stands up; you don't notice the dirty look Hazel gives to the interaction, wringing her hands in her pockets.

Sylvie walks away arching her eyebrows in a suggestive expression at you and your cheeks burn at the implication as Hazel takes her place beside you.

“So…” she begins, her voice strangely tense, “Did you finish what you were drawing? Can I see it?"

“Well…” You feel nervous, there’s no way to get out of this without making her sad and that’s the last thing you would want to do. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go ahead: “Inspiration came to and I drew something, but it’s not for my project, I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

"Yes, I will!" Hazel adjusts herself excitedly, your knees touching, “Can I see it?” she repeats.

You gulp and nod, turning the sketchbook towards her. Hazel lens even closer to you to see the result, her chin brushing your shoulder and a hand running up your back and resting there, surprising you, you feel the coldness of her hand and the outline of her rings – when she did put them back? – through the fabric of your t-shirt.

You feel the moment Hazel registers the drawing on the sheet and her breath hitches, the action sending a shiver up your spine.

"Then?" You ask nervously, “What do you think?”

But Hazel remains silent. When you turn to look at her, her jaw is dropped in complete disbelief and a deep blush covers her face from her cheeks to her ears.

“Haze?” You call, unsure.

“That’s– it’s beautiful.” She stutters, one hand delicately touches the paper, coal staining her fingers, “It’s me. It’s me… beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” you correct without hesitation and Hazel’s gaze turns to you, “That’s nothing compared to you.”

She hesitates for a moment, “Why did you do that?”

"Why?" You echo, “You know why.”

And Hazel knows. You know she knows. There hasn't been a single day that the two of you haven't flirted, that there hasn't been this tension between you. There's no way she doesn't know, but someone needs to admit it.

She looks at you expectantly, the same lovely hope as before is back in her eyes, and again, who are you to take that look off her face?

You sigh, “I have a crush on you, Haze.”

She snorts, voice shaking in a confident attempt of a joke: “I know.”

You raise an eyebrow and give her an unimpressed look and Hazel immediately backtracks.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She exclaims, “I just– I like you too, a lot.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips when you put the notebook and pencil aside to look at her fully and your faces are so close that you would only have to lean in for your lips to touch. God, you've never wanted something so much before.

You notice every little detail of her face; a fallen eyelash on her cheek, the faint marks of dark circles over her eyes, freckles over her nose that you had never gotten close enough before to see.

Hazel looks at you like she can't believe what's happening and honestly, neither can you.

“Please,” she whispers, eyes locked on your lips.

Hazel Callahan was the most beautiful work of art you had ever seen and as an artist, you know you should never touch artworks, but Hazel asks you and you could never deny her anything.

Your lips meet and it's softer than you thought it could be – even though you've thought about it many times then – and your hands rest on her cheeks like they belong there, she lets out a sigh of contentment that warms your heart.

When you pull away, there's a coal stain on Hazel's face from where your hand was before and her pupils are dilated like dark pits, it's unfair the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

She kisses you again, shorter this time and you would have chased her lips if it weren't for someone's voice scaring you:

“ATTA GIRL, I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” Sylvie is on the other side of the gym, cheering and pointing at you.

You had completely forgotten that the meeting wasn't over yet.

“Dude,” PJ starts on the other side, “When did this happend?”

“You know this is a public space right?” Josie asks with a hand on her hip, “Don’t make out here, man.”

You shake your head in amusement and start to gather your things, “Okay, okay,” you say, “Let’s make out somewhere else then, come on Haze.”

Hazel seems too flustreaded to speak and doesn't argue as you take her hand and pull her along as you leave to the sounds of your friends cheering and joking.

“Where are we going?” She asks, you’re still holding hands.

You shrug innocently, “I promised you drawing lessons, didn’t I?”

In the end you don't show up at the art club that day, too busy spending time with your newest girlfriend and it's totally worth it.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #denwrites

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holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (2)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: shy reader, fluff, getting to know each other, implied innocent reader

A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

“She was small, but strong,” while you describe your attackers to Lestrade, Sherlock won’t leave your side. He stands behind you, his hands on the backrest of the chair you’re sitting on.

“Can you describe her features? Her hair and clothes maybe,” Inspector Lestrade asks as he looks at your husband for confirmation to interrogate you.

“I got something better.” You shove your sketchbook toward the Inspector. He thumbs through the sketches you drew. “You’re quite talented, Mrs. Holmes.”

Your cheeks heat up when Lestrade looks at a drawing of your husband.

“You can draw?” Sherlock locks at the drawing, wondering what else he doesn’t know about you.

“It’s nothing…I…only do it when I’m alone and got nothing else to do. Mrs. Demeter won’t let me anywhere near the kitchen, or the garden. So, I draw from my memory.”

“Impressive, Mrs. Holmes,” Lestrade exclaims as he looks at the drawing of the woman running into you. “You got her features, even her eyes.”

“My thank you, Inspector,” you try not to squeal in joy when he looks at the drawing of your attacker in awe. “This is too kind of you.”

“You’re very talented,” Sherlock places his hand on your shoulder, making your heart flutter at the compliment. Hearing it from Lestrade was nice, but your husband’s praise means so much more to you. “We should get you more drawing utensils.”

“Sir, that’s kind of you but,” you shy away from your husband, and drop your gaze as the Inspector looks at you, “I don’t need more.”

Sherlock clears his throat, disappointment barely hidden on his features. You seem to pull away anytime he tries to do something nice for you.

“We will discuss this later. If I want to spoil my wife, I’ll do it.”

Lestrade drops his eyes to the drawing of your attacker again. “Mrs. Holmes, can I take the drawings of them with me?”

“Oh, of course, Inspector. You can keep them if it helps you find them,” you carefully remove the pages from the sketchbook.

“Have a look around, Precious. I want you to choose all the utensils you’ll need for drawing.” You know he means well, but you don’t want to be in public after you get attacked and feel uneasy as everyone seems to watch Sherlock walk you around.

“Sir…can we go back home? I don’t need anything,” you murmur, not daring to speak any louder.

“Are you unwell,” Sherlock asks and dips his head to look at you. “We can get the utensils later. I want you to have everything you wish for.”

You don’t dare tell him that all you want is his attention and for Sherlock not to leave you alone at the large house. “I’d love to go home, Sir.”

“Precious, please stop calling me Sir,” he whispers in your ear. “You’re my wife now, call me Sherlock. I want us to get to know each other better. In any way.”

Heat floods your face. Your cheeks feel hot, and you make an odd noise. “In any way,” you whisper and touch your hot cheek. "I-I..." You don't know what to say, so you nod and let him guide you toward the carriage waiting for you.

“Sir, Mr. Holmes,” Mrs. Demeter follows your husband around the house. He insisted on sharing his bedroom with you since you got robbed, and she’s not having it. “This is inappropriate! She should sleep in her room! Your wife needs to know her place!”

He raises his voice. “I let you get away with your behavior far too long. Mrs. Holmes and I are married. She’s my wife. You’ll pay her the needed respect, or you are dismissed.”

“You want to let me go?” She asks. “I took care of you for almost ten years. I helped you when you came home drunk or showed all the women you brought home the way out. She’s no different.”

“I think you forgot your place! NEVER,” he yells now and towers over Mrs. Demeter, “compare my sweet and innocent wife with the wenches I brought home to satisfy my needs. I won’t have it!”

You are fast asleep, unaware of the things he throws at the head housekeeper. He storms off, huffing as she follows him. Mrs. Demeter repeatedly apologizes and begs him not to release her from her duty.

“Get out of my sight! I’ll consider accepting your apology in the morning.” Sherlock storms upstairs, panting heavily. He stops in front of his bedroom, taking deep breaths to not scare you.

Sherlock closes his eyes and imagines your face as he tries to control the anger he feels. No, not just anger. There is a beast inside of him telling him to finally claim his bride, but he cannot treat you like all the women he had before you.

"I need to do this right..."

You stir in your sleep, but he shushes you. “Sleep. I need you well rested when we meet my brother and sister. It’s going to be an exhausting day.”

“Sherlock?” You murmur.

“Precious and so sweet,” Sherlock whispers as he moves closer to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Tempting too.” He nuzzles his face in your neck. “I’m going to taste your sweetness soon, my love.”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #innocent reader #Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (2)#sherlock holmes x wife reader

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chirping-robyn · 1 year

Text

so i was watching qsmp from slimecicles pov and the goop got to me

i should not be trusted with a pencil

#qsmp slimecicle #qsmp #mcyt #slimecicle #slmccl #charlie slimecicle #art #what.#please take away my sketchbook #yes the goops are said in a spanish accent with a mariachi band in the background

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fluffylino · 6 months

Text

strawberries and cream with hyunjin🍓

-suggestive themes (its all very soft)

hyunjin hummed away, as he took a bite of the strawberry. you dipped one in the whipped sweet cream, relishing its sweetness.

"the strawberries are extra sweet this season" you shook your head, throwing him a side eye when he reached for the same one as you. before you could reach it, he gobbled it down whole.

"hyunjinnnn" he smiled, his teeth stained with a lightish pink juice.

it was a peaceful silence as he doodled away in his sketchbook. you too were writing down some stories in your diary.

the two bowls, one of strawberries and another of cream sat between the two of you. he was on one side of the couch and you on the other side, using the armrest to keep your book steady.

the sunlight peeked through the gap between the curtains, just enough to light up the room with a yellow haze.

"oh nooo" you let out, stuffing the berry in your mouth before anymore cream could fall on you.

you looked around for a handtowel on the table behind, freezing when you felt his breath on your neck. his warm breath was followed by an even warmer sensation.

he licked the cream off. making sure to run his tongue over the spot. giving you a soft smile he went back to what he was doing. you blinked multiple times, brain refusing to form sentences.

"it couldve fallen on the couch" he mumbled. he faced you, eyes focused on your lips. hesitantly you ran your sleeve over it.

"c'mere"

you scooted closer, carefully. he cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press his lips on yours.

"you always make a mess"

you could feel your cheeks heat up, when he pulled away, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, which had cream all over it.

"you don't want me to write, do you" you commented, realising this was his way of asking for attention.

"and now, you don't want me to go back to sketching, do you?" he tilted his head in a cute way. a smile threatening to erupt.

of course you didn't want him to. in fact from the second he sharpened his pencil, you wished he would look at you with the same eagerness.

you picked up a strawberry. now being extra careful, dipped it in the cream.

"hyunjinnie, open wide ahhh" you said in a baby voice, moving it around just like how babies are fed. he giggled opening his mouth.

"is it delicious hm, my baby" you cooed, patting under his chin. hyunjin hummed, eyes going all puppylike.

"you know what would make it even better?"

"hm?"

he extended his arm, pulling you to him by the base of your neck. your eyes widened.

"say ahhh"

you did as he said. he kissed you. pushing it into your mouth. the fruity juices ran down the corners of your mouth. he seemed to notice, immediately pulling you even closer. licking it up desperately.

you moved away, head slightly throbbing from the aftertaste of the kiss. his soft lips still lingering on yours

"don't do that" you muttered, feeling your heart beat increase.

you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him lightly. he took another, holding it to your mouth, waiting for you to take it from him. pressing his thumb against my bottom lip, he kept your mouth open.

"one more" he whispered, kissing you much deeper this time. it was slow, almost a little too slow. you were starting to get impatient as he explored at his own pace. arms looped around his neck to hold him there, you weren't going to let him get away. your book and pen falling off your lap onto the floor. he himself, mindlessly took his sketchbook, throwing it on the table behind.

all while he chased your lips.

your fingers tangled up in his long hair.

hyunjin gasped as you pulled at his locks.. now looking at you with pure need.

pure love.

your eyes trailed down to where reminants of pink cream had dripped down his chin. you tugged his hair, loving the way his breath hitched.

"another strawberry please" he teased.

#hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz drabbles #lee minho smut #bang chan smut #hwang hyunjin smut #dom!hyunjin #fluffylino works #stray kids

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 19 days

Text

the girl next door 25

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You wait out in the sun until you feel its sear. You glance over at the house then the yard and stand. You leave your sketchbook on the table.

You’re restless, not just because of the unexpected events, but because your run-in with Peter, and your turbulent return. You take the glass of lemonade and take a gulp, nearly choking on it. It’s sickly sweet, to the point you can’t even swallow it.

You spit your mouthful back into the cup and keep it with you. You just want to go home and hide. You want to be out of the way.

You head go down the deck steps and drift along the hedges. You glance again at the glass doors. Cautiously, you pour the lemonade behind the bushes. The flavour alone has turned your stomach.

You wander along, pondering the fence. Could you just go home? Is Steve coming back? They probably won’t even notice. It’s their day, not yours.

You come back up the wooden stairs and cross the deck to the glass door. You shade your eyes and try to see through. You back up as you see Steve appear. He opens the doors from the other side and smiles down at you.

“What’s up, sweetie?” He grins down at you, his eyes narrowing on the empty cup in your hand, “thirsty? Want some more?”

“Um, no, thanks,” you hold out the cup. “I’m going to go home. To my mom’s house.”

“Ah, sure,” he accepts the cup hesitantly, “you feeling tired?”

You nod and hug yourself. He steps out and slides shut the door. He touches your shoulder, rubbing it firmly, and you take a step back.

“How about I walk you around?” He offers.

You shrug and turn back. You grab your book from the table as he follows. The empty cup clacks down on the table as he passes. He catches up with you at the bottom of the deck steps and he walks you up the side of the house, sure to reach over you to pull the gate open. He lets you through as you focus on your destination.

“Hey, sweetie,” he calls after you, “just wanted to say, this is home, right?” He looks up at his house and you blanch.

“Oh?” You frown.

“We didn’t get to it but yeah, no point in having two houses between us. Just gotta pretty up that old place and put it on the market,” he explains, “it’ll help pay for your mom’s care.”

“Uh, right,” you teethe the inside of your lower lip.

“Better start packing,” he winks.

“Mhmm,” you hum flatly.

“Anyway, you go get some sleep but if you need anything, you know where to find me,” he says.

“Sure,” you murmur and turn away.

You slink around the fence and down the pavement. You turn up your mother’s walk and keep your head down. As you get to the porch, you look up and stare at the front door. Everything is changing and you’re terrified.

🏠

You put your sketchbook on the dresser, too uneasy to open it again. You have all this energy that you can’t center. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re stuck in that strange limbo brewing with dread and impatience. You want the change to happen already just to be done with it. Just to know what awaits you.

You change into pajamas and tuck into bed. You only lay there an hour before you give up. You just can’t sleep. It’s so strange to be there all alone. Even if you know your mom’s just next door.

You get up and tramp out to the front room. You turn on the television and find an old movie playing on the public channel. You lay down beneath the old quilt pulled down from over the back of the couch and one of the deflated cushions that came with the furniture.

You yawn but you’re still painfully awake. You focus on the screen, your eyes glazing over with the shifting colours, as the low drone tickles your ears. The night hazes on in the glare of the television. You’re kept at the threshold of sleep by your anxiety, drifting slightly only to wake again, head pulsing and eyes itchy.

The house feels alive as you hear new noises. Or ones you never noticed before. The breeze has a tree brushing against the eaves and the crickets seems to be louder than usual. And the walls and floors are obscured as you can’t see past the glow of the TV.

You force your eyes shut and try to will your mind to stop. It's too much. You lay paralysed, trapped between the urge to get up and go to your bed and the exhaustion that keeps you from moving.

A low, creaking sound crawls over you. What is that? It’s just your imagination. You’re overthinking it. Maybe it’s the TV, you’ve lost track of the plot. You blink at the screen as you hear a click which doesn’t align with the scene playing out. Your heart lurches and your eyes widen.

Is that the back door? You’re trapped in horror. You don’t know what to do. Someone is there. You can hear them coming down the hall, stopping just short of the front room. Another whisper of hinges. They’re in your room. Oh god! What do you do?

The retreat and their footsteps close in on you. The figure fills the doorway and you stare at it, trying to pick it out of the fuzzy darkness. You sit up and whimper, “please, don’t hurt me.”

The silhouette looms, unmoving and unspeaking. You can hear it breathing. You shudder and brace yourself.

The light flicks on and stings your vision. You cower as Steve stands in the shine of the overhead bulb. You gasp and bring your hand to your chest, trying to calm your heart. His eyes gleam oddly a his jaw squares and you see him force the tension from it.

“Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles, “I was just coming to check in.”

You blink and look around, “what time...”

“I know it’s late, sorry. Your mom’s been up and down all night and I finally got her asleep. I wanted to make sure everything was okay over here...” he steps up and frames his hips, “you didn’t lock the doors.”

You stare at him. You didn’t. You forgot. The realisation scares you all over again.

“You okay?”

You nod and gulp. You’re not. His eyes flick down then up. You pull the quilt up over your chest as you feel the cotton of your tee shirt grazing your hard nipples. The chill in your spine has yet to recede.

“You don’t have to stay here,” he offers, “if it’s too much.”

“I...” you watch him, trembling as his eyes keep that glimmer. They look dark, as if they’re dilated. You wet your lips with your tongue. “I’m okay, I’m just...” your gaze skitters over to the TV, “watching a movie.”

He clucks and steps into the room, “oh, what are we watching?”

You sit up complete and fold yourself into a ball in the corner of the couch. He nears and sits on the other end. You glance at him and force the lump from your throat.

“Um, I didn’t get the title. It’s an older movie.”

“Ah,” he lifts his arm over the back of the couch, “mind if I join? Can't sleep.”

“Er, I guess...” you mutter. How can you say no? He's already sat down.

“I don’t mind if you stretch out,” he says and pats his lap, “put your feet up, it won’t bother me.”

You shake your head, “I’m fine.”

“Mmm,” his eyes reflect the light of the screen as he stares ahead. He’s watching it but something about his expression, the stone in his cheeks and the lines in his forehead, suggests that he isn’t really taking it in. “Thought you’d be knocked out, kiddo. After a day like today.”

You don’t know how to reply so you don’t. You turn your attention to the movie. The black-and-white images are softened at the edges despite the remastered edition. You lean your chin in your hand and try to follow the dialogue.

“Not exactly how I imagined my wedding day, either,” he says as his fingers twiddle on the back of the couch. “Funny how life is full of surprises.”

“Mhm,” you hum, rubbing your cheek nervously.

“Or my weddings night,” he scoffs as he pinches the fabric along his thigh, sucking his teeth, “I suppose I’m not what you expected either?”

“Huh?” You flinch and look at him, “what do you mean?”

He inhales and lets it out slowly, “just... you know... it’s all happened so fast, didn’t it?”

“Oh, right,” you turn to the screen again, “I... yeah.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we can figure this out,” he coos, “as a family.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #au #silverfox au #captain america #avengers

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hp-hcs · 1 month

Text

• smut • aurora boy-realis (stop talking) — soft! tom riddle x gn! artist! reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, no assigned sex-specific identifiers or anatomical terms, short and not really detailed smut but wtv, hella ooc tom for my delulu readers, like i cannot stress this enough he is ooc, i took canon and just chucked it into the garbage okay

i have had this sitting in my drafts, finished and ready to publish, for the last week now bc the imposter syndrome lowkey convinced me that i’m a terrible writer so anywhore enjoy this train wreck

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Don’t move.”

Tom froze.

Your charcoal stick moved in broad strokes against the page, your eyes darting between Tom and your sketchbook.

“…Can I move yet?”

“No. Stop talking.”

You were probably the only person who could actually get away with telling Tom Riddle to shut up.

(He’d never admit it, but that boy knew damn well that he was whipped.)

~~~

Your charcoal-stained hands left dusty black marks on Tom’s skin.

His chest heaved under you. “Damn tease.”

“Stop talking.” Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a spare pencil held between your teeth as you used his torso as a makeshift table for your sketchbook.

He wiggled impatiently as his fingers tightened on your hips. “Baby, please–”

You grunted, taking in a shaky breath as you tried to collect yourself from his sudden movement.

He grinned slyly at your reaction, jerking his hips up experimentally. His cock pressed in deeper.

You bit your bottom lip hard enough to bleed as you desperately tried to stifle your moans and keep yourself steady. “You’re an ass.”

“Maybe.” Tom gently pulled your sketchbook and pencil from your fingers, leaning over to carefully set them on the nightstand. “But you don’t really mind, do you, love?”

You grumble at the loss of your art supplies, pouting down at him. “Sometimes.”

He cupped the back of your head, gently rolling the pair of you over so that he was on top. “I’ll make it up to you.”

~~~

“Tom!”

“That’s it, there you go, honey. So good for me,” the boy in question murmured against the skin of your neck as his fingers slipped down to help you out.

His thrusts were slow and deep, driving you absolutely crazy. You couldn’t help but cup his face in your hands, stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs in utter devotion.

“Oh, Tom—”

“I’m here, darling. Let go.”

You came with another cry of his name.

~~~

Your paintbrush ran over the thin, raised pink lines that traveled across Tom’s back and shoulders—caused by your own fingernails just last night—and covered them with a thick coat of purple.

You were in your element here, circling around your boyfriend and chewing on your bottom lip as you worked on your masterpiece. You paused in front of him to survey your chef-d’oeuvre, smudging the lines of green and white that ran along his ribs and up between his pecs with your thumb a bit more until you were satisfied.

Tom stood shirtless in front of you, his entire torso—from the top of his neck all the way down to the waistband of his trousers—covered in a beautiful artistic rendition of the Aurora Borealis flickering across a starry sky.

You picked up your enchanted camera, lining up the shot before snapping a magical moving photograph of your boyfriend patiently allowing himself to be used as a canvas.

You set the camera back down, screwing on the lids of your paint jars and humming cheerily.

“Right. Well, you can go wash up now. Thank you, love.” You kissed his cheek, unperturbed.

Tom was baffled. Wash off this masterpiece? Destroy it like it was nothing?

“At least join me?” he asked with that damn pout of his that could make you melt on the spot.

Tom could always do that. He was your sun, your moon, and your stars; you’d gladly move the heavens just to see him smile.

(Plus, showers with Tom always ended in sex. Win-win.)

~~~

Blues and purples swirled in the water that pooled at your feet.

Pinks and greens stained your hips, your thighs, your throat.

Tom’s lips were pressed firmly against yours, moving slowly as the steady flow of water pouring down on the pair of you slowly grew cold. Tom pulled back solely so that he could look at you, taking you in.

Tom looked at you as if you were his sun, the very thing his entire world revolved around.

Like a deity, deserving of the entire galaxy’s devotion.

So, without another thought, Tom did what any sane mortal man would. He dropped down to his knees and began to pray.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

comments are always appreciated!!

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #hp x gn reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle smut

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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

Text

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent.

“How much?”

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?” You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head.

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes.

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying.

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response.

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank.

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you.

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank.

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it.

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue.

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details.

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety.

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens.

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go.

“I said, drop it!”

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own.

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her.

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.”

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?”

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid?

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors.

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire.

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!”

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles.

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!”

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight.

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams.

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid.

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you.

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — —

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do.

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink.

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you.

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon.

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well.

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper.

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product.

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head.

It’s probably just the adrenaline.

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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