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holdupjack · 3 months

Text

Hello Spider

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Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Spider-Man Earth-1048

Warning: None

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Third Person P.O.V:

August

Hermione Granger sighed softly as she typed away on her laptop on the seventh floor of The Daily Bugle. She could hear Jameson screaming at one of his interns about how much property damage Spider-Woman caused in her fight with Vulture a few months ago. His podcast seemed to always be one somewhere in the building...

At least he wasn't spiraling about the new Spider-Man that she has been seen swinging with around the city. Hermione thought Jameson was going to send himself into the ER when it was announced that she had a protégé.

Hermione slowly stood up and collected her wallet, eagerly ready to go on her lunch break to Joe's Pizza Cellar across the street. She only took one step when a muffled explosion came from somewhere within the city.

Everyone around her seemed to look up and turn their heads towards the windows, when her eyes flickered towards them as well, a loud yell rang outa car suddenly flew past the windows.

"I HATE CHASE OF GOOSE"

Hermione threw down her wallet and grabbed her notepad, running up to the window as a familiar set of feet ran across the building.

"Aw come on Aleksei! At least look both ways before crossing the street!"

She soon sprang off the wall, while Spider-Man swung behind her. Hermione watched in awe as they chased after Rhino, writing down her quip before tuning towards the elevators.

Her coworkers began to crowd around the windows as they watched the carnage that was being left behind by the Villains run through New York.

Hermione soon found herself outside, running down the street to where a full-blown fight was taking place. Spider-Woman dodged the bigger man's punches as Spider-Man kept any civilians out of harm's way.

"Really Aleksei, I don't know why you try to punch me anymore. You know I can just-"

Spider-Woman was cut off when Rhino grabbed a light pole that had been ripped from the ground previously and whacked her with it.

She went flying through a department store window, to which Spider-Man immediately kept the villain distracted while the other got her bearings.

Hermione quickly slipped into the store, bumping into scared customers and staff as they ran out of the building. Her eyes land on the iconic red, black, and blue costume. A soft groan escaped the superhero as she pulled herself back onto her feet, shaking her head slightly as a way to get rid of the dizziness.

"I really need to quit jinxing myself" she coughed out.

"Spider-Woman?" Hermione calls out as loud yells and quips from the two outside continue. The hero quickly looked up and the eyes on her mask widened, seeming surprised to see her.

"WHERE IS FEMALE SPIDER" Rinho's voice boomed as Spider-Man flew past the shattered window, the loud crunch of metal and a car alarm blaring made it obvious what he had landed against.

"Stay here," Spider-Woman says as she jumps out of the store through the broken window and runs toward the belligerent man.

Hermione couldn't help but stare in awe, even amid everything going on. So, once again, she followed out onto the street.

Spider-Woman jumped and swung around the barbarian like it was nothing. Spider-Man zipped back into the fight and ducked between Rhino's legs as the other hero punched him in the jaw.

The young journalist knew this was idiotic to do, basically sitting on the sidelines as full-blown armageddon was in front of her.

Rhino swatted Spider-Man away, sending him halfway down the street as Spider-Woman jumped into the air and webbed a manhole in between her and Aleksei.

Yanking it up into the air, she soon slammed it against his head, causing the giant to stumble backward.

Right towards Hermione.

Her eyes widened as she tried to move out of the way, but the guy was falling too quickly. Spider-Woman webbed the arm of Hermione and yanked her up towards her.

The journalist yelled out in surprise as she was pulled into the hero's arms and taken to safety on top of the building behind them.

When Hermione's feet touched a solid surface, she instantly looked up to find the mask of the hero every kid loves.

"You were a troublemaker in school, weren't you?" Spider-Women chuckles in a fake voice as she removes her arm from around the journalist's waist and steps back toward the edge, watching Spider-Man web down Rhino. The bigger man's suit was sparking and in obvious need of repairs, while the two heroes only needed new stitches in their suits.

"Spider-Man, are you good?" she yells down, and he gives two thumbs up in return, before jumping slightly as Rhino yells angrily at them.

Hermione watched in awe as Spider-Woman turned back to her and cocked her head slightly to the side. A gesture that finally made the Brit find her voice.

"Can I...Can I have an interview?" Hermione asks and the hero chuckles softly, sitting down on the edge of the rooftop.

"Alright, you have a minute before the police get here" she responds, causing Hermione to widen her eyes and quickly pull out her pen and notepad.

This was a chance of a lifetime, and she damn sure wasn't going to waste it.

"Uh, why did you decide to do this? More specifically, why did you become a hero?" she asks as she eagerly hovers her pen over the empty page of her notepad.

"Well, the world could always use more heroes" Spider-Women replies as she picks up a small crushed can from the roof, and looks back over the edge, throwing it easily into the trashcan down below.

"That's it? Not the fame, money, or adoring fans?" Hermione asked as she scribbled down the responses and questions. Spider-Woman chuckled and shrugs.

"I think IronMan makes enough money for all of us heroes, and fame or fans? You've seen how the news changes their opinion on me, as do the people of New York" she says simply as she hears the sirens starting to get closer. Hermione looks to her right, seeing a part of the street a bit farther away.

"Don't get me wrong, I love all the citizens, but sometimes it does feel like a punch to the arm" Spider-Woman chuckles softly as she stands up from the edge of the roof and stands in front of the journalist. Hermione stops writing and looks at the hero with a shy smile.

"Well, if it's worth anything, I'm one of your biggest fans," she says, making the woman chuckle again and probably smile underneath that mask. Hermione couldn't really tell.

"Time to go!" Spider-Man calls out as he swings past the building just as the boys in blue turn down the street. Spider-Woman took a step back onto the ledge and looked back at Hermione.

"It's an honor to have you as a fan, Ms.Granger," she says as they stare at one another for a moment. Then Hermione realized something.

"Hey, wait-" she starts, but Spider-Woman quickly jumps off and begins to swing away. Hermione ran up to the edge and watched as she followed after her protégé.

"I never told you my name!" Hermione yells out, but it is no use, she is already too far to hear her. The journalist huffed out a soft laugh as she stepped back from the edge and looked down at her notes.

Now she needed to get down from atop this building.

——————

When Hermione stepped back onto the seventh floor of The Daily Bugle, everyone still didn't pay her any mind as she made her way back to her desk. As soon as she sat down, someone leaned against it.

"Where have you been?"

Hermione looks up to find Y/n Y/l/n, the only photographer who has been able to get clear photos of Spider-Woman & Man. She was also a very good friend.

"You won't believe who I got an exclusive interview with!" Hermione says excitedly as Y/n rolls over an office chair and sits on it backward. Her arms lay on top of the backrest, her chin resting on her forearms.

"Who?" She asks with a smile as Hermione hands her the notepad, watching as the photographer reads the questions and answers.

Y/n couldn't help but let out a chuckle as she handed back the notepad to Hermione. The two girls had been talking for a while about a front-page story she had been told would be hers if she got an interview with the superhuman. Y/n couldn't resist teasing her about the joy on her face.

"Finally got attention from your favorite hero?" Y/n asked playfully, referring to the piece that Hermione had been working on for the past few weeks about Spider-Women.

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. She turned on her desktop, and with practiced ease, logged in to her account. Y/n watched as Hermione's fingers danced across the keyboard, her eyes focused on the screen, completely immersed in her work.

"She is one of the reasons I moved here! I want to be the only journalist on the amazing Spider-Woman" Hermione admits, even having a small flush on her face. It obviously wasn't one of the main reasons, but it was a very good perk.

"You know...I do have connections to her. Maybe I could-" Y/n was cut off when Hermione grabbed the office chair and pulled her closer. Their faces were inches away.

"Can you get me another interview?" She asks quietly as they stare deeply into each other's eyes, Y/n's face growing hot at the proximity.

"I...well...yes!" She stumbles over her words as the smile on Hermione's face grows. She suddenly pulled away and opened her document application on her desktop.

Y/n watched as the woman's face lit up with childlike excitement, her eyes widening and a smile spreading across her lips.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

"Oh, this will be remarkable," she added, her tone laced with anticipation. Y/n sat up straight, feeling a sense of responsibility to carefully choose her next words.

"I'll see what I can do, but honestly, she might seek you out first," she says with a small smirk as their eyes meet again, a glint was in Hermione's eyes, something Y/n couldn't place.

"Seek me out? What do you mean?" Hermione asks as her eyes follow Y/n, who slowly stands up from the chair and pushes it back to where she got it.

Y/n gave a small smile in response and turned around to walk back to her desk, leaving Hermione to watch her go. As she walked, a glint of mischief shone in her eye, hinting at a playful side to her personality.

Hermione had seen this look before, though, and knew that Y/n had a way of doing things that was uniquely her own. It was just one of the many things that made her such an intriguing person to be around.

She began to smile as well.

——————

Later That Night

Hermione dragged her feet wearily up the narrow staircase, her arms laden with a heavy bag of fragrant Chinese food takeout. The pungent aroma of soy sauce, ginger, and garlic wafted up to her nose, making her mouth water in anticipation.

As she climbed higher and higher, each step felt like a Herculean effort, and she had to pause several times to catch her breath. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she reached the fifth-floor landing and emerged from the dimly lit stairwell, squinting in the bright light of the hallway. The door to her apartment was only a few steps away, but it felt like a mile.

As she reached the front door of her apartment, she let out a gentle sigh and rummaged through her bag to find the keys. Once she found them, she inserted the key into the lock and turned it, hearing the familiar click.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling the cool air conditioning hit her face. Something about the atmosphere felt different than usual. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but an inexplicable unease crept up on her. Despite this, she took off her shoes and walked further into the house, trying to shake off the feeling.

As she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. That's when she finally noticed her living room light was on, casting a warm glow on the walls.

But as she peered into the room, her heart stopped. Someone was sitting on her couch, their figure illuminated by the light. Panic set in as she tried to make out the person's identity, but then she recognized the mask immediately. Relief washed over her as she realized that there was nothing to fear.

"So, you break into homes? That doesn't seem very friendly" Hermione says with a smirk, causing Spider-Woman to jump up to her feet and turn towards her. Apparently, she had snuck up on the hero.

As Hermione approached her, she could sense a slight hesitation in Spider-Woman's demeanor. However, she quickly composed herself and greeted her.

"Oh, hi!" she said, her fake voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

"Uh, I don't usually do this...well, yes, I do. But for good reason!" She paused for a moment, placing her hands on her hips as if to steady herself. Her head darted around nervously before settling back on Hermione.

"You know, you should really be locking your windows, just in case wall-climbing...robbers become a prevalent issue," Spider-Woman suggests, her tone faltering slightly as she realizes the irony in her statement.

Hermione chuckled softly and placed her food on the small table behind the couch, watching as the hero seemed tense. This must have been a spontaneous decision.

"Anyways, I wanted to give you a better interview, since you had been willing to risk being crushed by a two-ton man to just speak with me" she continues with an awkward chuckle as she put her hands behind her back and laced her fingers together.

Hermione, with a gentle smile on her face, slowly walks around the couch with her fingers trailing along the armrest. As she makes her way towards the masked superhero, she speaks up.

"You must be feeling quite important. After all, you are the one who essentially controls the content of the front page of The Daily Bugle," she says as her eyes meet the mask, and she stands before her, waiting for her response.

"Owner? That's a little...overstated" Spider-Women replies as she steps back slightly as Hermione gets closer.

"Exaggerated? I don't think so, you have been on the front page more than Mayor Osborn" Hermione hums, her eyelids were low as she held a soft gaze with the eyes of the mask. Spider-Woman felt her fake voice starting to falter again, so she cleared her throat in hopes of keeping it up.

"Well, I'll make sure to send him a fruit basket as an apology," she says as Hermione chuckled and sat on her couch, legs crossed over the other as her eyes slowly trailed up the hero's body.

This wasn't the same woman she had saved earlier in the day, there was thick obvious tension between them now, but Spider-Woman had no idea why.

Well...she had a slight idea.

Spider-Woman, her red and blue costume tightly hugging her form, rested her hands back on her hips and looked down at Hermione. The young woman's face was flushed and her hands were balled into the couch cushion.

Spider-Woman's sharp eyes scanned Hermione's face before she slowly sat down on the coffee table across from her. The vigilante's movements were graceful and calculated as if she was always in control of the situation.

Then suddenly, Hermione sat up straight and seemed to calm in an instant, her arms crossing over her chest as she appeared to return back to normal. This girl was hot & cold.

"Would you mind giving me a longer interview?" Hermione asked innocently. Spider-Woman nodded slowly and rested her elbows on her thighs.

"Of course, uh, whenever you're ready" she replies as Hermione pulls out her phone and begins to record with the voice memos.

"My first question is, is it true that you have been taking the time to clean up the shores?" Hermione asks, but it is obvious that she isn't all that interested in Spider-Woman's environmental protection ideals.

"I try my best since fish is one of our main food groups in New York. We don't need people to get sick from any of them" Spider-Woman replied as she rubbed her hands together. A nervous tick perhaps?

"Alright..." Hermione hums as she shut off the recording, which piqued the hero's interest immediately.

Hermione reached behind her and grabbed the plate of food from the small table that was pressed up against the back of the couch.

"Well, that was quick," Spider-Woman chuckled, referring to the speed at which the interview had ended. The aroma of the freshly cooked food still lingered in the air, making both of their stomachs growl.

"I have a few...off-the-record questions for myself than the paper" Hermione explained as she opened the bag and handed her one of the spring rolls she had ordered.

Spider-Woman gave a soft 'thank you' as she hesitated to lift her mask up to her nose. Hermione didn't even look up as she grabbed the two forks from the bottom of the bag and handed her one as well.

The hero then slowly rolled up her mask until her nose and chin were the only things visible. That's when Hermione finally looked up.

Her pupils dilated like wide saucers, but she didn't express anything outwardly that would suggest something was off. So, when she held the tin container full of orange chicken and lo mein between them, the crusader thought nothing of it.

(A/N: ngl, I'm running out of ways to say 'hero')

Spider-Woman sat at the table, her eyes fixed on the steaming plate of Lo Mein in front of her. She couldn't resist the temptation any longer and picked up her fork, twirling it around in the tangle of noodles until she had a perfect bite.

"I love Lo Mein," she confessed. Across from her, Hermione watched with amusement, a soft smile playing on her lips. She picked up a piece of orange chicken and popped it into her mouth, relishing the burst of flavor.

"I know you do, you get it every Friday after work," she says simply, which causes the hero to freeze, the spring roll almost falling out of her mouth.

Hermione continued nonchalantly as she ate, while Spider-Woman stared at her. Oh how much she wished Vulture or Mr.Negative would burst in here, just so she could get out of this conversation,

"H-How did you...I don't know what..." she trailed off in her real voice as Hermione looked back up with a sly smile, almost teasing in a way.

"At first I thought it was just a coincidence that you were the only person who got special treatment with the Spider Duo because I knew that a few people in the Bugle have been able to get connections with other Heroes and Villains alike" Hermione starts as she ate another piece of chicken, chewing it for a few moments before speaking again.

"But then I noticed your tardiness, your ability to basically disappear and reappear at incredible speed, the random bruises, but again, I just thought it was a coincidence" she continues as Spider-Woman just stared dumbfounded. Hermione put the tin container down beside her and gave her full attention to the woman across from her.

"Then today-"

"I have to go," Spider-Woman says abruptly getting up from her seat, her words echo in the room. With the spring roll still dangling from her teeth, she strides swiftly towards the open window, her hair fluttering in the wind.

Her agile movements and aura of determination suggest that she's on a mission, and nothing can stop her. The bright city lights outside seem to beckon to her.

"Y/n."

Y/n froze in her tracks, her eyes fixed on the window. As Hermione stood up and walked towards her, Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, and her palms became sweaty.

She tried to move, but her legs felt like they were made of lead. Finally, when Hermione was close enough, she placed her hand on Y/n's shoulder and gently turned her around to face her. Y/n's eyes met Hermione's intense gaze, and she couldn't help but feel vulnerable under her gaze.

Without another word, Hermione reached up and pulled off the rest of the mask, and smiled like a little schoolgirl.

"There's my favorite photographer" she whispers as she holds the mask in one hand and takes hold of the spring roll as well.

Y/n and Hermione are standing face to face, gazing into each other's eyes. The moon is shining bright, casting a warm glow on Hermione's face.

"How did you know?" Y/n whispers softly, her eyes are filled with wonder and curiosity as they exchange glances. The night is quiet and peaceful, and the only sound is the soft honking of the hussle of the city.

"It's silly really, but that fake voice you were using, is the same one you use to mock Jameson's podcast" Hermione chuckles as Y/n couldn't help but flush at her own stupidity.

"Oh...oh that makes sense," she says as she clears her throat and looks down at their feet for a moment. Hermione just smiled as she placed the spring roll back in her mouth and gently pushed her toward the window, both of them hearing the roaring of sirens nearby.

"You're secrets safe with me, now go kick some ass" Hermione continues as she placed the mask back around her eyes and above her nose. Y/n grinned and slowly stepped backward toward the window.

"It's really nice to have another ally," Y/n says as she takes a final bite of the roll and speaks with her mouth full. She then pulls down her mask all the way, hiding a relieved smile on her face. The weight of the world seems to have been lifted off her shoulders as she welcomes the newfound support.

"I still expect a full interview tomorrow," Hermione says with a smile as she leans against the wall and watches Y/n back up slightly.

"It's a date" Y/n replied as she took a running start and jumped out the window. Hermione walked over to the windowsill, leaning down, and resting her forearms on it. Her chin found itself atop them as well, watching as Y/n swung away toward the boys in blue.

She smiled softly.

"It's a date"

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #fluff

159 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

hello! i hope you’re doing well! i would like to request something for alex keller! could you write something about sunshine!alex being absolutely smitten by his girlfriend who’s a grumpy!reader? sorry if this request doesn’t give a lot of ideas. love ur fics btw!!!! <3

Sun and Stars

Pairing: Alex Keller x F!Reader

Synopsis: Bloodied, the two of you find yourselves alone in a mountainous forest, surrounded by the termite-eaten walls of a lone shack. But Alex always finds a way to make the world brighter.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Canon typical gore & themes, blood, a teeny tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, banter, sunshine and grump dynamic

A/N: This is a bit shorter just because I wanna understand Alex's character more - take this as a test fic lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He was peeling back your skin like layers of paint on a canvas, gripping at the dried bits and ripping them to the side. Growling as your teeth sink deeper into your boyfriend's leather belt, your eyes swirl with hatred that you direct to the man kneeling beside your propped-up form; digging the bullet out of your left arm with all the delicateness of a rhino.

“Stop,” Alex grunts under his breath, “squirmin’ for me.” The tweezers go deeper, trying to find the sweet spot where the metal pellet had dived into your flesh at high velocity. Of course, it had been where the thick kevlar of your vest hadn’t been able to stop it – flew right to the place where the skin was uncovered.

Alex’s breaths are steady as you stare daggers, minutes away from yanking him off of you and doing it yourself. He was so damn slow, sending concerned glances every other moment with a furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. From under your makeshift gag, there so you won't bite off your tongue, you grumble with pain lacing your barely understandable words.

“Hurry up and get the fuckin’ thing out of me, Alex!” It didn’t sound like that, obviously, but the general heat to your words made – hurrey uh ahn geh tha fuhking thing ou of meh, Ahlex! – clear enough.

The light-haired man clears his throat, gripping your arm just a little tighter with his blood-stained gloves as his mustache rotates, scrunching his nose. His eyes are locked onto the entry wound, lids scrunched in a way you would have found comedic if you didn’t want to smack him upside the skull. Lord, could he just hurry up?

“I’m gettin’ there, Hon…just quit trying to make my head explode with your mind over there, yeah?” Alex dares to smirk when you take your free hand and slap his heavily tattooed forearm. You’re shaking your head to the side with displeasure that would transcend any barrier known to man.

A velvety chuckle leaves your lover’s lips before he leans close to your shoulder, placing a kiss on the fabric of your shirt in apology as your narrowed eyes don’t let up an inch. He pulls back and continues his exploration of your gaping puncture with focused eyes.

Prick. You chuff through your nose like a cat, fingers twitching in your lap as you fight the pull to bring it into a fist.

Sweat travels down your nose only to plop on your bunched abdomen, and in the back of your throat, you force your esophagus to hold back a whimper of restrained pain. Everything burned like your flesh was being placed on a hot spit – like you were a sheep carcass slowly rolled around and around and around–

“Here we go.” The pressure dissipates at the heavy whisper, and without even realizing it had happened, your head had tilted back into the wall and your eyes had ground themselves shut. Opening them quickly and blinking away the black dots, the soft face of your boyfriend pops into view; beaming as you deadpan up at him. The man holds up the tweezers in one hand, showing off the red-dripping metal almost lazily with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, speaking slowly. “Told ya’ I could do it faster than you.”

Letting the belt drop from your mouth with a metallic clink, you rotate your jaw at the ache your clenching had caused. You settle with a simple, “I said I could do it better not faster. What the hell were you looking for in there anyways – gold? My whole damn arm’s numb.”

Alex chuckles, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. To anyone else, the two of you would look like the strangest couple in the world. Covered in blood but you still have the time to bicker back and forth like a married pair. The Agent’s eyelids crinkle.

“Yeah, alright, Miss World-Class,” he motions with two fingers and a smug look, “scoot upwards so I can pack that wound before blood gets stuck in your gear. Can’t have my girl bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, now can I?” He huffs, placing the tweezers and bullet on the floor of the safe house before taking off the ruined gloves with his teeth as his neck muscles peek out from his scarf.

His gear was all covered in fluids – blood, mud, you name it the two of you were drowned in it. The Op could have gone better, to say the very least, but, hell, when does an Op go well? It had been too long since you and the man had a break and it was starting to weigh on you. Long nights and little sleep, it was like SAD was trying to go get you both killed with all the orders being given. Do this, do that…and what happened today? You feel a weight in your chest.

But the bullet wound wasn’t what was bothering you.

Sighing, you take a deep breath before grunting, forcing your back farther up the wall with shaking legs and a weak stomach to comply with Alex’s request. Your arm still blazes something awful, but the numbing agent your boyfriend had been insistent on you having was finally starting to work.

“Blood loss sucks ass…” You growl under your breath, lips twisting into a frown as you force away the haze in front of your eyes with fluttering eyelashes and sheer spite. The man spares you a pitying glance as he grabs fresh gauze from the medical punch on the floor.

Inside your chest, your heart warms despite the outward hatred you feel for getting put in a situation like this. Blinking at him, Alex tilts his head to the side as he sits up, one knee on the floor as the other behaves as an elbow rest.

“I know, Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Just bare with me, alright? I’ll take such good care of you, ya’ won't even feel a thing.” You roll your eyes with an infectious smile, head tilting back to rest on the dilapidated wall once more, and say nothing.

“Hey, now,” your boyfriend teases with tell-tale amusement in his voice, and you mumble a half-assed ‘quit it’ under your breath that goes unheeded. “I saw that smile there – you can’t get past me that easily.”

“Keller, shut up and patch me before I bleed out.”

An amused pause makes your cheeks hurt from holding back laughter.

“...Yes, Ma’am.” He says it so smugly you can’t help the exasperated chuckle that leaves your lips. The man’s hands caress your stained skin like you were formed of glass, rubbing soothing circles as he pushes back your shirt sleeve just the tiniest bit more to see what he’s working with.

Alex was quite good at keeping his emotions in check, knowing how to act when he needed to, and even how to change his personality to get the job done with minimal hiccups. But there were small tells – the way his hands held your skin slightly tighter, the flickering of his eyes over the crimson-coated skin. He was used to blood, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to yours. Swallowing saliva in this mouth, the man focuses on the thrumming pulse of your heart; your skin.

She’s right here. Alex tells himself. I’m gonna fix her up, and she’ll be just fine.

If he had the chance to shoot the man that did this to you again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The story of how you two met was one mentioned often by friends and coworkers back in the CIA-SAD headquarters. It never got old, apparently, and as Alex gets to stuffing and wrapping your wound until the extraction team comes with proper supplies, he hums a song under his breath softly. The song.

When Alex’s presence presses nearer, you tilt your head to the side, watching the wrinkle in the large man’s brow as his careful hands fix your marred skin with the patience of a saint. Unlike him, you were more than content to bask in the silence of each other's company, gazing with hidden love at the twitch of his large nose or at the way his hair stuck every which way.

“You remember how I asked you to dance at that ball while Frank Sinatra was playing? The one in Washington back in ‘02.” Alex asks, looking up at you with a small smile under his mustache, skin peeling back to show perfect teeth. You nod, transfixed, as the light from outside gets dimmer, watching the dying rays play in his eyes that shine like shades of blue sea-glass, “God, I thought you were going to laugh straight in my face. I swear you nearly did.”

“The stupid corporate thing that Laswell made us go to? Yeah, I remember it,” you frown at the accusation, annoyed, “and I would never laugh at someone asking me to dance.”

He raises a light brow, and after a brief staring contest, you concede with a scoff.

“Okay, I’d never laugh at you asking me to dance…Better, Sunshine?” Alex laughs and you swear you nearly melt into the floor, cheeks feeling hot.

Oh, when he laughs.

“Maybe, I don’t know yet. We’ll have to go dancin’ to make sure.”

“I hate dancing,” you tease, only biting your lip when the knot he ties in the gauze makes your blood pump faster. “Thought I told you that the first time you asked?”

“You did – but I like when you’re swayin’ in my arms. Plus,” running his hands over the bandage, pulling at the fabric to make sure it’s secure, his blue orbs sparkle with his unique mischief you’ve come to tolerate. If only for the fact that it was his. Your face softens. “I did get you to join me eventually, if my memory’s correct.”

Smirking, you bring your hand up to his chin, tilting it towards you without hesitation. Alex complies easily, setting some of his weight onto the limb as a particularly smitten glimmer sparks over his face; he stares down at you with his mustache twitching.

“As I recall,” your blank words echo out over the small shack, “I only said ‘yes’ so you would stop following me around like a lost dog in search of its owner.”

“Is that it?” He jibes, a smile so wide on his face you feared he would rip his lips open.

“Hm,” leaning closer, you watch Alex’s breath stutter not a second later with satisfaction singing in your blood like a hymn, “you had that same look on your face too…Absolutely whipped.”

“And is that such a bad thing, Sweetheart?” He whispers, not missing a beat, breath fanning your cheeks as the scruff of his beard hairs scratches your flesh. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you dinner every night.”

Scoffing, you squeeze his chin, “how could I? Your mother blessed you with her culinary skills. I’d be a fool to pass it up.”

Alex’s chest rumbles in a purr.

“So you’re usin’ me?” He asks, his smooth voice tilted in a tone of bold cheekiness. Like a steady wave rocking a boat.

“Would it be unethical if I was?” You counter, staring dead on into his eyes without blinking. His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks.

“Incredibly.”

“Hm…Pity.” You release his chin and lean back into the wall, murmuring complaints under your breath about the weakness of your arm and the sweat that makes your clothes stick to you. The regular grumpy frown on your lips re-takes its place where the easy smile had once been, unknown to you.

Alex’s heart beats loudly in his chest, but he refrains from showing his disappointment at the lack of lips pressed to his, only happy that you were still acting like your normal self. It would take more than one bullet to keep you down, he knew, and his admiration only continued to grow.

His girlfriend was a badass.

“Here – let me.” You allow the Agent to loop his strong arm under your shoulder, taking your weight like it was nothing and helping you to your feet. The comfortable conversation slips to the back of your mind when your feet are connecting to the ground.

Alex keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall, whispering a small, “steady,” as your feet momentarily stumble.

“How far out is Evac?” You force through gritted teeth, the back of your neck heating in wounded pride.

You loved Alex - you really did - but if anything made you feel powerless it was not being in control of your own body. In the corners of your vision, black dots swirled like paper mache puppets, their phantom bodies leaving long streaks of mist behind as they danced from one position to another. The man at your side watches closely, face going tense; ready to catch you if your legs give out.

After a moment’s hesitation, you once more gain control over yourself and clear your throat, shaking your head from side to side. The light brunette takes a step forward so his body brushes yours, leading you to blink and look up at him with curious eyes.

“I’d say about three hours, give or take.” You can’t help the utter annoyance that enters your expression, eyes going half-lidded as you turn to stare at the barricaded door.

No one would be coming after you from the city – and the safe house was so far off into the mountains, no one would want to try. If your thoughts hadn’t been running so fast, you would have reveled at the situation; Alex and you alone with no one coming for hours. Now that was a blessing in disguise.

But there was something wrong.

She’s not acting right. Those sea-glass eyes narrow, optics flickering to try and find what exactly you were staring at, but lands on nothing but an old door with moldy wood before he gravitates back.

Concerned confusion builds in Alex’s chest.

Now that he thought about it, you had been more snappy on this mission than the others; less open to letting his jokes and quick quips curl your lips or soften your constant scowl. He’d refrained from mentioning anything due to the fact that he knew some days were worse than others – in this line of work sometimes it was best to take a breather than to blow up. But this was different. When those days came around, you always told him about it first thing – there hadn’t been anything this time.

“Sweetheart?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to stare at you. “...Something going on?”

“No.” Straight-faced, your hands go to work the straps of your vest, peeling at the velcro at your sides. The man’s eyes widen, taken aback, and his soft smile freezes as his eyebrows pull in. You go back to shoving away pouches and hucking off your weapon, setting it to the floor before righting yourself.

Continuing, Alex feels his worry grow tenfold.

“Would you–” he laughs heavily in his chest to try and dispel tension as you try harder to force the vest over your head, scowling. Your arm was ripe with needles, static living under the skin as your gauze turns more red. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

“...You shouldn’t have to.”

A moment of brain-shattering silence.

Fuck, you curse with a burning face, did I say that out loud? He wasn’t supposed to hear that–

“And what if I want to?” Alex utters, feet carrying him in front of you and sighing. You slow your still unexplained actions, avoiding his eyes and feeling your chest tighten. He continues, bringing his hand up to your cheek to tilt your head up to him. Losing some of that tension instantaneously, you glare at his collarbone instead. “Accidents happen, Hon. We can’t always come out of this at one hundred percent. I’m not disappoint–”

“We don’t get second chances, Alex,” you interrupt loudly, motioning around you at nothing, eyes flashing as they lock with his. The man just runs his thumb over your cheek – leaving molten heat behind. “Not us. Not when every mission could be it.”

Alex halts, body suddenly going stiff and muscles bunching. His forearms seize, the vibrant tattoos that you love to trace with your fingers jerking as if being lifted from the sun-kissed skin. His thumb ceases.

What?

“...Where’s this comin’ from?” You turn away quickly, moving back a step with your hands at your side bunching into fists, “hey,” Alex follows after, hesitant, but when you don’t move away he lays both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me, Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shouldn't, but Alex just makes everything so much easier. It was like the words just fell out of you; whispered like a prayer.

“...If someone would have snuck up on you while I was down…I…Y-you would have…” Your tongue bunches, catching on syllables and finding walls embedded in the vowels. God, you couldn’t even say it.

Alex had become so important to you – the thought of something happening to him while you were unable to help…It broke you.

What would have happened if even one more hostile was there; if he was outnumbered? And all I could do was watch. Your jaw clenches tight, throat holding back a growl.

No one had ever mattered this much to you, and that made you incredibly nervous.

The hands at your shoulders tighten, a gentle squeeze before you’re being brought into a warm embrace without another word. Immediately, you reciprocate, the one wounded arm remaining at your side as the other digs past pouches and spare ammo to curl over Alex’s back, where you latch onto his shirt like a child. This was unlike you.

But it wasn’t like that mattered to Alex.

His body kept you close, security leaking from the locked position of his hand on the back of your head and the even swelling of his lungs. Home could mean many things to many different people, but for you, it would always be here. Colorful tattoos and a well-groomed mustache. Kind eyes.

Sunshine smiles and sea-glass blue.

Your lips thinned, keeping the glossiness in the corners of your vision away as you bury your head into Alex’s neck and suck down a deep breath. You both stay like that until the last light of dusk stops making shadows of the termite-eaten furniture, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and in the warmth of living skin.

He speaks in whispers.

“How about we take a vacation? Just the two of us – take a breather from all of…this.” His words move your hair, spreading over the skin of your scalp as he presses his lips to it, murmuring into your skull with utter devotion. “You said something about Iceland to Laswell once, yeah?”

Alex knew just as well as you did how draining this job was; how it was bad most days and horrible the next – never having choices, doing things that made an identity crisis seem like a holiday in comparison. There were some things the Agent would never tolerate, and that was you going off the deep end and him not being there to fish you out as you do with him. Being together meant fighting for one another when the battles were physical yet more so when they were unseen.

All you had was each other.

He feels your fingers grip his shirt slightly tighter, and a mocking laugh.

“You remembered that?” Your voice is garbled by his gear, but the vibrations spread over his skin as he fights the closing of his eyes; weaving his fingers just a little more through your locks. When you press kisses to his neck, Alex swears he’ll bend to one knee without hesitation.

“‘Course,” he smirks softly, lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth despite your half-hearted protests. “I remember everything my girl says. But if we’re goin’,” the Agent leans back, prompting you to look up at him with fatigued but bright eyes, “you owe me a dance first.”

“Alex,” you roll your eyes, chest lighter and mild panic gone. Funny, how the man could make everything disappear so simply. “We don’t even have any music.”

“You’re insinuating that we need music, Sweetheart.”

“...You’re exhausting, Keller.”

“Shush – you’re getting me off beat.”

“There is no beat–!” He presses his lips to yours, and the melody of your heart becomes song enough. Your eyes flutter shut as the scratch of Alex’s mustache leaves you grinning, his own lips peeling back in a smile in answer.

A great bout of chuckles spills over the room, separating your supple flesh but never making you move far apart.

“...Just be careful. I’m still sore.” You hum your admittance, and he connects your foreheads together more gracefully than butterflies wings.

Sea-glass blue.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The stars might have been out, shining through the dusty window of that old shack in the middle of nowhere, but you didn’t need the illumination from them to guide your unhurried steps. You had a sun of your own to light the path, and he was keeping his arms around you; squeezing as if you’d leave.

As if.

Gentle laughter spills out from under the doorway, seemingly making the rocky forest outside come alive. Birds sang songs to their adoring mates, deer grazed in lush green meadows in contentful calm. Wood Nymphs frolicked to and fro on fast feet, but would pause near the ancient forgotten building with termites living in the frame; taking quick peaks inside through murky glass and pressing moss-coated fingers to lips.

They watched the two lovers dance with awe-filled expressions. For they had seen many lifetimes but had never once glimpsed such a sight as this – proof of every principle that Eros had preached as he and Psyche became inseparable. A love so pure and giving, some would call it divine.

The immortal beings watched just a little longer, lichen-lips parted into smiles.

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tobyislame · 8 months

Text

general eyeless jack headcanons

ik i literally just said this will be an exclusively ticci toby blog but u guys get one (1) ej post as a treat bc i have a biiiiig phat crush on him

- he has a strong distaste for his given name. constantly being referred to as "eyeless" just feels like twisting the knife. so, he really appreciates it when people shorten it to ej. he prefers to just be called jack, though.

- he has black blood. does that subsequently mean his blush would be black?? idk i’m thinking maybe it shows up on his skin as like a dark bluish-purple, kinda like a bruise but… he’s blushing.

- he's got a nice set of large, pointed teeth. when he speaks those chompers are on FULL display, so if he happens to have his mask off, he’ll mumble to try to keep them as concealed as he can.

- what used to be fingernails are now blackened, talon-like claws, which will rip through everything if he isn’t careful. with enough concentration, he can keep them folded down to make them less obtrusive, at least enough to get dressed without making his clothes all… holey.

- that being said… he has no control over his claws when he’s asleep. his sheets are absolutely shredded, pillowcases torn through. they’re also perpetually stained with his eye goop. he's learned to just not bother with patching up his sheets anymore.

- he is LARGE. he is a LARGE MANTHING. he's 8'2 and well aware that he towers over most because people won't shut the fuck up about it. he's also just stocky, with big burly shoulders and enormous hands and man he is just BIG.

- despite his size, he moves quietly and swiftly. he carries himself like he's much smaller than he actually is.

- he isn't really aware of his own strength — he still surprises himself with the damage that he can unintentionally administer. he finds himself having to make a conscious effort to hold back.

- he's completely blind. the way that he “sees” is similar to snakes — utilizing infrared sensors which lie somewhere in those eye sockets of his (eldritch being rules it doesn’t have to make sense), he can sense the heat given off by objects in his environment. this becomes especially useful when tracking down potential victims. somewhere along the line, he learned or “evolved” to use echolocation as well, gaining the ability to make the same sonar clicks that bats do to make their way through the world. these can’t be heard by human ears, but if you’re close enough, they can be felt in your teeth.

- also similar to snakes, he’s cold-blooded. just absolutely cold to the touch. he wears warm clothes all year round, even in summer. he should be sweltering in multiple layers in the middle of june, but really, he’s just fine.

- his senses have all evolved to compensate for his lack of sight. most sensitive of all, though, are his ears. he can identify individual footsteps from miles away. this makes it near impossible to get away with muttering something under your breath. even from across the entire house, he’d be able to hear what you said. (i am aware actual blind people don't have superhuman abilities i just think this is the way it'd present in an enigmatic being)

- his skin is thick, sort of like a rhino's. bullets essentially ricochet off of him, blades snap... this, however, doesn't make him invincible. high frequencies are a surefire way of disabling him.

- he feels hunger much more intensely than any normal person does. when he goes too long without eating he'll become rabid, driven by instinct alone. at that point, he isn’t himself anymore. his body isn’t his.

- in this condition, he'll take on more bestial qualities, sprouting (larger) claws, a second row of teeth, additional tongues... he also exhibits heightened strength, speed, and agility. he'll behave more like an animal than anything else, tunnel vision pointing to only one thing: eat. he does everything in his power to keep this at bay, because in the past… incidents have occurred. let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be caught in the same forest with that thing prowling around. he hates to hurt others when he doesn’t mean/need to, especially since all he can do in those moments is helplessly watch behind the eyes of something that isn’t him.

- he really isn't a killer. although he's lacking in the sympathy department, he has the ability to put himself in the shoes of others and feel what they feel, which is his biggest weakness — as you can probably imagine, being an empath isn't so convenient when you have to kill to survive. often, he feels the pain of those who have the misfortune of ending up beneath his scalpel. beneath his hands. he’s aware that he’s taking that person away from someone, and it hurts him. he just powers through.

- he couldn't eat human food even if he wanted to, and believe me, he wants to. it's just that, if he even makes an attempt, his body flat-out rejects and regurgitates it. think that one tokyo ghoul scene... basically like that. he seems to be able to ingest coffee and tea just fine, though. earl grey is his favorite. on rainy days, his favorite thing to do is brew a cup and sit on the steps to the front porch, listening to the drops plinking off puddles.

- he doesn't particularly like for anybody to see his face. would rather keep it to himself. he's not exactly sure what he looks like, but he can take an educated guess that it isn't pretty. he'll usually just keep his mask on when he's around others, only taking it off if it ever happens to be absolutely necessary. if someone were to take his mask from him, that’d probably be the closest he could get to his rabid state without fully submitting to it.

- when he’s angry (which seldom happens) the tar in his eyes seems to boil and pop, kind of like hot oil in a pan. if it happened to get on you, it’d fucking burn and begin to dissolve right through your skin in the same way acid would. stay out of the splash zone ig.

- he can cry, but the way it presents is similar to ghibli tears — thick, messy glops of black that stain his skin, clothes, and whatever else they happen to spill onto.

- he doesn't just eat kidneys, he tries to make use of the entire body. it’s the least he can do. he doesn’t want to just throw the rest out like it’s trash. even when they’re dead, dissected, splayed out, closer to meat than human, he tries to respect his victims. they were people once, too. just like him.

- he also tries to make harvesting from his victims as easy of a process as possible, for the both of them. he injects them with anesthesia, enough to kill, then uses surgical tools to make the job as quick and clean as possible. no screams. no thrashing. easy.

- he can't remember much of his past life. most of what he can recall are just bits and pieces of out-of-place memories, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together no matter how hard he tries to make them. however, the one thing he was able to definitively grasp was his affinity for physiology, human anatomy, and surgery. because of this, he held onto it fucking tightly and devoted himself to it — just so he wouldn’t forget it, too.

- before, he was going to college to become a general surgeon. in fact, he was just about to move on to med school. now he's essentially the mansion's resident surgeon/doctor, and he does his job quite well given that he doesn’t have the resources most other medical professionals have at their disposal.

- he's especially interested in the medicinal qualities of plants. often, he'll go on nature walks in search of herbs that he can put to good use. he uses what he finds to make ointments and medicines and such, often utilizing his own resources in his procedures. in his room is a little garden of his own in the form of pots hanging from the ceiling, holding plants that he meticulously tends to with GREAT precision and care. he'd never trust anyone else to take care of them for him, not even for a day.

- he cannot stand disorganization, it drives him fucking insane. everything has to have a place, and everything has to stay in its place; it becomes difficult for him to find things, otherwise.

- if he can't rely on his sight, then he figures he can at least rely on his memory — it’s why he marks the position of his furniture and such with tape so that if anyone does happen to move something, they can at least put it back exactly where it was.

- messy people get on his nerves. leaving stuff in random places and on the floor is just incredibly inconvenient for him. he's tripped because of people's misplaced laundry and stuff.

- he's a man of few words and lacking in expression. often, a tilt of the head is the most he will react with. when he does speak, his voice is deep, so deep that it seems to vibrate. he keeps his voice soft and quiet, though, as if he's afraid of being too loud. and he is.

- since he doesn't speak much, he empties his thoughts into a journal. he'll write about anything: how his day was, what he did, how he feels, what all had happened in his surgery that day, the things he'd observed... although, if you look through it, ramshackle scraggles that almost resemble words litter the pages. he thinks he's writing words, and will continue to do so until it gets pointed out to him.

- a gentle giant. he's incredibly composed and docile, qualities that betray his physical attributes. he isn't "friendly", per se, but he tries to stay far away from hostility when it isn't needed.

- he has an overbearing need for control. he hates the thought that fate could rip everything out from underneath him whenever it pleases. it happened to him once before. he won’t let it happen again.

- he displays an... almost catlike vigilance. the slightest noise is enough to make his head snap towards the source. it's incredibly difficult to sneak up on him, especially since he hardly ever allows himself to drop his guard. he doesn’t like to be at the mercy of anyone or anything. a lot of his mental energy is put towards preventing bad things from happening to him.

- he can purr .

#he can purr btw #did i mention he can purr #eyeless jack #eyeless jack headcanons #creepypasta

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