#clothing folds and sneakers

[florthier]

I’ve been watching dandadan

[keeps-ache]

hit random on a picrew n dressed him up :3

[inks below because they're neat]

[lapipupi]

[farfallasims]

Decorative Clothing & Accessories 👜

Trench Coats & Purse | Ralph Lauren Sweaters | Purse & Slides Jeans (1)(2) | Slides (1)(2) | Blouse & Bra Boots & Heels | Tote Bag | Folded Sweaters Tote Bag & Sneakers | Jeans & Blouse | Purse & Hats

Massive thank you to the CC Creators! @syboubou @maxsus @felixandresims @pierisim @heybrine & others!

[bastardizedbitching]

my running theory is that there’s this one really nice fashion chain for athletic wear that’s been doing ninja clothing stuff for years now and they have to update the base design every so often to get people to continue buying stuff. (also explains how those kids in crystallized got their matching uniforms that shit was not high expenses) during the merge they somehow stayed afloat and people could just buy ninja items w whatever extra colors and designs they needed

Imagine being separated from your closest family and friends for years and years and yet the moment you all reunite, you discover that you all still somehow have the same taste in fight-wear

(aka how did everyone manage to coordinate their fashion after the merge???)

[foreingersgod]

You (on my arm) . CH

pairing: caroline harvey x reader

synopsis: cute moments with kk throughout your relationship!

A/N: this came out kinda shitty, but i promise i’ll have better kk content coming haha

I wanna sit around and watch you do your hair

“you’re so pretty,” caroline sounded from the doorway of the bathroom “d’you know that?”

it was nearing 6:30 am on a friday morning. you hated getting up early with every fiber of your being, wanting to stay wrapped in caroline’s arms for as long as you could. but today, she had an away game, causing the both of you to pack an overnight bag and make an excruciatingly long drive.

you quite honestly looked a mess, dressed in your comfy clothes and your face decorated with the smallest amount of makeup. your hair was a disaster as you brushed it out, trying to style it in a somewhat presentable manner.

“shut up,” you laughed, looking at her through the mirror. she looked so good, also in her lazy day clothes as she leaned against the frame of the entry way, arms folded across her chest. she looked you up and down, smiling adoringly “i look like a disaster”

“not to me,” she came up behind you, moving stray hairs away from you neck so she could rest her chin on your shoulder. her hands planted themselves on your waist “you look gorgeous no matter what”

you turned your head, planting a kiss to her temple, humming against her skin. she sighed as she gave a gentle rub to your hip.

“love you” she mumbled, voice muffled by your sweatshirt.

“love you more” you confessed to her like you had a thousand times before. she was your person, your everything.

Talk it all into the ground

Have a ceremony there for something, don't know what it'd be

you were sprawled across the grassy meadow, long green blades standing tall, surrounding your body. your sundress rode up your thighs a bit, sneakers kicked off somewhere next to you. your arm was outstretched to your left as your hand fit snuggly into caroline’s. she laid next to you in the grass, smiling at you past the scattered flora. you looked radiant like this: skin glowing and sunkist, hair descending down your shoulders and onto the dampened earth beneath you, teeth sparkling as you let out the most infectious laugh.

she sat up, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her hand as she stared down at you. her free hand maneuvered over to toy with the hem of your dress, fingers gliding across the soft material.

“i’m gonna marry you one day, i swear”

your cheeks burned from the sun, growing even hotter as she said that. there weren’t enough words to describe how caroline made you feel, so appreciated and wanted and loved. you had every intention of marrying her. although for now it would have to wait, you hated the idea of planning things and balancing school and a job and a full on wedding at the same time. but you both knew, without having to say it, that it didn’t matter if you married or not. the love was there all the same.

“one day,” you mirrored her movements, also rolling to your side “and i can’t wait for that day”

But it'd become nothing, it's nothing

And you'd smile at me

you had done it. through all the last minute study sessions, stressful midterms, and the nights spent crying at the kitchen counter as caroline rubbed your back sympathetically. you had finally graduated college. it was a beyond thrilling moment to slip on your gown and bobby pin the unflattering cap to the top of your head. just thinking of walking away with your degree made your stomach ache with excitement.

your high heel clad foot bounced against the floor as you stood in the long line. the room felt hot and crowded while you waited to make your way across that stage and get your degree. in the distance, the boom of the microphone could be heard echoing through the stadium as the names of the graduates were announced. with each passing moment, you were getting closer and closer to your turn. the hundreds of faces sat in the stadium made its way into the view as the line slowly inched forward. you strained your neck looking around the different sections, trying to find caroline’s familiar face.

unfortunately, your parents and the rest of your family couldn’t make it to this huge milestone in your life. you had gone no contact with the majority of them a while back once they ‘disowned’ you. when they found out you were dating caroline, a girl, they were furious and couldn’t stand having a daughter that followed such a lifestyle. your sister was the only one you stayed in contact with, but she was studying abroad and couldn’t make it back to the states in time to see you graduate. you were absolutely gutted about the whole situation.

but caroline was there for you through it all. sat with you while you sobbed the day before graduation because it was all settling in. she assured you that, even though it wasn’t the same as having your parents and sister there, she was going to be there front and center to watch you succeed. caroline was by far your biggest supporter, your rock through everything. you couldn’t believe you had gotten so lucky with someone so attentive and prideful towards you.

so as you finally reached the front, body shaking with excitement, your eyes bounced around all of the smiling faces. it was only when you handed the announcer your name card, taking your first steps onto the stage, you saw her. she was beaming ear to ear as she locked eyes with you. she had her phone out, ready to record her gorgeous girl accepting her degree. caroline had dressed up just for you, sporting a navy blue dress shirt and slacks to match the colors of your university. she watched as you accepted all the hand shakes, posing for pictures with the dean, and evidently walking off that stage with that cherished piece of paper.

you walked off the stage and started to make your way back to your seat to finish out the rest of the grad ceremony. you looked over to her, finally able to get a clear look at her face. you gave her an excited wave, showing off your degree to her. she clapped for you and blew you a kiss, still smiling as brightly as before.

‘i love you’ she mouthed ‘i’m so proud’

and you smiled, mouthing back to her with tears in your eyes ‘thank you’

I wanna be, I wanna buy you pretty little things

And never ever lie to you

“what’s all this?” you asked, stepping through the door into your shared apartment with caroline.

you had gotten off of work quite upset, driving home with irritation coursing through your veins. you got called in for a so called ‘emergency’ even though you had requested the day off for yours and caroline’s anniversary. in reality, it wasn’t an emergency, rather your boss just needed someone to run errands for him. your girlfriend was so sweet and had planned out the entire day to celebrate, you were in a bad mood the whole day wishing you could just got back home.

but when you walked through that door at around 7pm, the scent of pine wafting around the kitchen, your heart melted. a bouquet of your favorite flowers sat upon the marble countertop, a neatly sealed letter leaned against the vase. there was a small box that also sat next to it with a baby pink ribbon tied around it. caroline stood from where she was previously sitting on the kitchen stool, coming over to greet you.

“just wanted to do something since you had to work today, s’all” she shrugged, pulling you into her by your waist as you set your stuff down on table “happy anniversary, baby”

you felt like you could cry, tears welling up at your lash line. you had felt horrible for spoiling the day by going into work, but caroline was so sweet and understanding and always made sure you felt seen.

“caroline, you didn’t have to do this!” you gestured to the flowers and box, leaning in to smell the flowers “i spoiled our anniversary, i don’t deserve this”

“don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t spoil anything” she kissed your cheek, you could feel her lips curl against your skin “and of course you deserve it, you deserve the world. now open your gift!”

the small ribbon glimmered underneath your dim kitchen lights as you ran your fingers over it. you looked at her with a skeptical face, smirking slightly when she laughed at your expressed. she urged you on, promising that you would like the small little present. you untied the ribbon excitedly and lifted the lid carefully.

sat on a small bed of tissue paper, was the most beautiful charm bracelet you had ever seen. you instantly pulled it out, putting it up to your face to see it closer. it was only when you had gotten a closer look that you had realized what it was.

when you met caroline, you noticed she had always worn a small little bracelet on her left wrist. she told you about a month into your relationship that it was something she’s had since she was a kid, a way to keep important memories close to her. you adored the thing, always asking about the charms that she added and what her favorite ones were.

the bracelet she had gotten you was a near exact replica of hers. it shared a few of the charms that hers held, ones that you said were your favorite. but it also had several new ones. many came from the vacations you and caroline took together, others she bought because they reminded her of you, and one that had both of your initials in a heart. it was by far the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever gotten for you.

“caroline,” you exhaled, completely blown away “baby…i don’t know what to say”

she laughed, taking the bracelet from you and grabbing your hand. she delicately wrapped it around your wrist and secured the clasp. she pulled you in for a passionate kiss, wiping away the tears you seemingly couldn’t stop shedding.

“i hope you like it,” she said “i just know how much you like looking at mine and so i thought-i don’t know maybe it’s silly, but i thought you might like one of your own so we can match”

“of course i like it” you shook your head, looking back at your wrist to admire the charms “this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me…thank you so much, babe”

you spent the rest of that night on the couch, curled up into her side with a glass of wine as caroline explained each and every detail of the charms she picked out. she watched as you giggled at every fond memory she took inspiration from, noticing how you ran your fingers across the intricate designs of the little pieces, thinking about how much she loved you.

Watch you get dressed

And compliment your taste

she laid on your side of the bed, extended horizontally so that her stomach stretched along the width of the bed. her elbows were propped up to support her head as she watched your gorgeous figure from across the room. at first she was scrolling mindlessly on her phone to pass the time until you were ready to leave for your guys’ date, but now she was beyond distracted.

you emerged from the bathroom, hair done up and makeup dewy, walking over to your walk-in closet. you wore nothing except your nude bra and underwear, rushing around frantically trying to pick out an outfit. caroline was practically ogling at you, drooling at the sight.

“is this cute?” she had snapped from her trance when you came out, holding up a yellow dress to your body “i don’t know i can’t decide”

her eyes flickered back forth between your stressed expression and the frilly, lacey dress that had previously been tucked in some corner of the closet. she had seen you wear it a few times, remembering how much she loved the neckline and the way it flowed gracefully down your thighs. in truth, she loved everything you owned no matter what it was. she thought you looked good in everything.

she grinned at you, wanting to scream from how beautiful you looked “yea honey, that looks perfect”

“are you sure?” you asked again. she knew you liked things to be perfect, wanting to look your best for outings and such. but caroline always thought you looked your best no matter what “is it too fancy or anything? i don’t want to look like an overdressed loser or something-”

“hey,” she interrupted, making you quiet down and take a deep breath “you’re gonna look amazing, ok? you could be wearing a paper bag over your head and you’d still turn heads”

“you’re too sweet to me” you said rushing over to press a small kiss to her forehead before scurrying back into the closet to change. caroline observed you through the small crack you left in the closet door. not in a lurking way, she just wanted to appreciate her girl.

she bit her lip as she watched how you shimmied the dress over your hips, how you stuck your tongue out as you tried to zip up the back, and how you ruffled up your hair in the mirror probably a dozen times before deciding you were ready. then you waltzed out, just as beautiful as you were before, grabbing your bag and ushering her off the bed. you kissed the back of her hand as you interlocked fingers, making your way out the door.

man, she had really hit the jackpot with you.

…I'd be better armed

If you agreed to take it <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[yannawayne]

iv. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established Relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

The room falls into a stunned silence, every gaze drawn to your disheveled, bloodied appearance.

You attempt a casual wave, but it comes off as weak and awkward. Blood drips from your bruised knuckles, each drop splattering with a muted plop onto the polished floor. “Hey, everyone. Sorry, I’m late.”

Jason’s eyes flare with a dangerous glint of green as he barks, “What the fuck happened, kid?”

A typical dinner at the Waynes.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Wednesday, 6:54 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City. 

Three Days Later

THE ROOM IS QUIET except for the occasional rustle of clothing as you pack your things. You carefully fold your favorite hoodie, tucking it neatly into the suitcase. Next, you grab a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, and your worn-out sneakers. 

You pause, your fingers lingering on a framed photo resting on the edge of the dresser. It's a snapshot of you and Damian at a carnival, his arm slung over your shoulder, his lips gently pressed against your head. 

It’s been three days of radio silence between you and Damian. Three days of not speaking, which is practically a record for your relationship. And just when you were starting to get used to the peace and quiet, Bruce had to go and invite you and Selina to a celebratory dinner tonight. A gourmet guilt trip.

With a sigh, you place the photo gently on top of your clothes. Then you move to your desk, gathering a stack of notebooks crammed with sketches and half-finished plans scribbled on napkins and crumpled scraps of paper. You tuck them into the side pocket of your bag, carefully arranging the chaotic collection so that it all fits.

The door creaks open, and Selina steps into the room, her arms crossed with a proud smile playing on her lips.

“Packing up for your big adventure?” she asks.

You look up from your suitcase, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It’s only for a month, but it feels like I’m leaving for a year.”

“A month isn’t so long.” Selina walks over, her feet thudding softly on the floor. She picks up a small figurine from your desk, examining it with a thoughtful expression. “Think of it as a chance to stretch your wings and maybe learn a thing or two.”

“Thanks.” You smile and turn back to your packing, reaching for your suit. The sleek, black material glistens under the soft light filtering through the window. You run your fingers over the spider emblem stitched into the back, feeling the familiar texture beneath your fingertips.

“You’re not seriously thinking of bringing the suit, are you?” she asks.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the suit in your hands. “I thought I might need it. Just in case.”

“Well, you’re not planning on fighting crime in Stark Tower, are you?” she snarks, hands finding her hips as she gives you a look that clearly says she’s not buying your excuse. “This internship is a chance for you to have a life outside the vigilante shtick. It’s good for your future. A chance to live a normal life.”

“Normal? Mom, I stopped being normal the day I got these powers. There's no going back to that.”

“Maybe not,” Selina concedes, running gentle fingers through your hair. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have something close to it. You deserve to have options, to see what else is out there for you.”

You meet her gaze, your resolve unwavering. “I hear you. But I think I need to bring it. Just in case something goes wrong.”

Selina sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “God. You are just as stubborn as me,” she says, rising to her feet with a resigned smile. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind about this internship. Give it a real shot, okay?”

“Promise,” you hum, feeling a small sense of relief. As you reach for the suit to tuck it into your bag, your phone buzzes insistently.

Quickly, you glance at the screen.

Morgana:

Busy tonight? There’s a shipment near the docks. Tech equipment from what I see.

You could infiltrate. They have valuable info.

It's… Black Mask.

For a while, you stare at the phone, your thumb hovering over the screen, itching to swipe through the new messages. But Selina is still standing nearby. With a soft cough and a resigned exhale, you place the phone face down on the floor, deliberately ignoring the message for now.

You turn your attention back to your suitcase, refocusing on the task at hand. Selina watches you with a knowing look but doesn’t press further. The silence in the room is filled with the subtle rustle of fabric and the soft clink of zippers as you continue packing.

“Ready for tonight?” Selina asks.

You nod, though a knot tightens in your stomach. Bruce’s congratulatory dinner feels less like a celebration and more like an impending test, especially with the unresolved tension between you and Damian hanging heavy.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you reply, attempting to sound confident.

You zip up the suitcase, taking a moment to glance around the room. Everything seems to be in place, but you double-check, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything essential. 

Selina nods approvingly, then steps closer, bending to pull you into a hug. “I’ll go get dressed. You do too, alright?”

Selina leaves the room, her footsteps fading into the distance. Turning back to your suitcase, you rummage through the clothes, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans and a red jacket. After slipping on some socks and sneakers, you reach for a black shirt. But as your hand hovers over the fabric, your gaze is drawn to your suit laid out on the bed.

The spider logo on its back glares at you, its eight-legged emblem almost seeming to reach out with an imperceptible pull, as if urging you to embrace your other self.

After a moment of inner conflict, you give in. You carefully pull on the suit beneath your clothes, the snug material wrapping around you like a second skin. With the suit in place, you slip on your black shirt, followed by the jacket and jeans. You tuck your mask into the pocket of your jacket.

Wearing a superhero suit under your clothes for a fancy dinner—definitely not a sign of insanity. Totally normal behavior. Call it creative paranoia.

With everything packed and ready, you head downstairs. Selina is still in her room, and you catch sight of her as she steps into view, looking a touch more formal than you in a sleek, off-shoulder black dress that hugs her curves. It’s short, tight, and elegant.

“Done already?” she hums, moving to her vanity and starting on her hair and makeup.

You nod, leaning against the doorframe and giving your hair a casual tousle. “Yeah, figured I’d keep it simple. Not sure I’m in the mood for fancy.”

Selina glances at you through the mirror, a small, reassuring smile curling her lips. “You look great. And don’t worry too much about tonight. It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

The clock on the wall reads 7:00. You have three hours before the dinner, and Selina, always the early planner, will be occupied with her preparations for a while.

Pulling out your phone, you check Morgan’s message again. If you played your cards right, you could handle the shipment bust quickly and still make it to the dinner on time.

Clearing your throat, you push yourself off the doorframe and tug your hood back on. You head downstairs, making sure to keep your movements casual and unhurried, as if nothing out of the ordinary is about to happen.

“I’ll be heading out for a bit. I want to get some flowers for Alfred,” you call out, your voice carrying through the house.

Selina glances up from her vanity, an eyebrow arching in curiosity. “Alright, but don’t be too long. We need to leave once the driver arrives.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod, turning and heading out of the room. You make your way downstairs, slipping out the front door and into the crisp evening air.

Once you’re in the privacy of a nearby alleyway, you waste no time. Tugging off your shirt, you shove it into the pocket of your jacket, feeling a rush of adrenaline. You slip on your mask, adjusting it carefully until it fits snugly, the familiar material settling comfortably against your skin. Your jeans, jacket, and sneakers stay on for practicality, and you plan to put the black shirt back on later.

With everything in place, you secure your earpiece and gadgets, pressing the earpiece into position and activating it. The familiar hum of your tech springs to life, and you’re ready to move. 

The city’s sounds fade as you slip into the shadows.

“Morgz? You there?” you call out, already scaling up the side of a building.

A crackle of static precedes Morgan’s voice. “Yeah, I’m here. You on your way?”

“Just about to leave,” you reply, grabbing onto a ledge and pulling yourself up. “Any updates on the shipment?”

“It’s scheduled to arrive in about 30 minutes. The tech equipment is being unloaded from a truck into a warehouse. Security’s decent, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re only 15 minutes away from your spot right now.”

“Got it,” you confirm, reaching the rooftop and taking a moment to scan the area below. “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for the heads-up.”

You launch into action, web-slinging towards the docks with a focus on speed. Normally, you’d be showboating and performing flips, but tonight, every second counts. The journey takes a bit longer than expected—20 minutes instead of 15.

As you approach the docks, you spot a boat pulling up to the edge, its silhouette cutting through the darkness.

“Surprised you even took this up,” Morgan’s voice murmurs through your earpiece. “Thought you weren't allowed to patrol on school nights.”

“Technically… I’m not,” you reply, weaving between buildings and adjusting your trajectory for a swift descent.

“Yeesh. Going rebellious already?”

“Teenage angst, remember?” you quip, a grin forming beneath your mask as you prepare to intercept the shipment

Landing on a rooftop adjacent to the warehouse, you take a moment to plan your entry. The warehouse is a large, industrial building with a few tall windows and a side door that looks like it’s used for deliveries.

Security cameras are mounted on the corners of the building, rotating every now and then. You quickly survey the area, noting the guards' position.

There are a couple of guards patrolling the perimeter, walking in predictable patterns. One guard is stationed near the side door, checking his watch occasionally. The other two are more mobile, taking turns walking around the exterior and scanning the area.

Beyond the security, you see five workers moving boxes from the boat to the warehouse. The open doors at the far end reveal crates of tech equipment being unloaded.

You activate your earpiece. "Update. Three guards outside. Five active workers. They've got cameras. Can you get those down for me?"

Morgan's voice crackles through your earpiece. "On it. Give me a sec."

You watch the cameras, waiting for them to go offline. The guard near the side door looks at his watch again, oblivious to what's about to happen. 

After a tense moment, Morgan's voice comes back. "Cameras are down. You've got about an hour before the system kicks in again. Oh. That and there are about 5 more guards inside."

"Perfect," you hum.

You time your movements with the guards' patrols, slipping through the shadows. You approach the side door, keeping low and quiet.

Inside, the warehouse is dimly lit, with stacks of crates creating narrow pathways. The workers are busy unloading the truck, their focus on the task at hand. You crawl up the walls swiftly and silently.

You spot a terminal near the back of the warehouse, its blinking lights indicating it’s connected to the inventory system.

Time to get to work.

“I'm at the terminal. What’s next?” you whisper into the earpiece.

Morgan’s voice comes through with a steady tone. “Plug in the flash drive to copy the inventory data. While that’s running, find the main control panel for the security system and plant the tracker. This will help us monitor future shipments.”

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Got it. Flash drive first, then tracker."

You slip to the terminal and plug in the flash drive, which hums softly as it starts copying data. Glancing around to make sure no one is watching, you head to the security control panel hidden behind some crates and quickly plant the tracker.

"The tracker is set," you inform Morgan.

"Great job. The data copy should be done soon. Once it’s finished, you can pull the flash drive and get out of there."

You head back to the terminal, keeping an eye on the workers and guards. The flash drive's light blinks, signaling it's almost finished. After a few tense moments, the light turns solid.

"Data copied," Morgan confirms. "You’re clear to go."

You pull out the flash drive, tuck it into your pocket, and start heading toward the exit, blending into the shadows. Just as you reach the door, you hear voices nearby.

“Hey, did you hear something?”

Your heart stops as the guard’s flashlight beam sweeps dangerously close to your hiding spot. You freeze, pressing yourself against the cold metal wall, barely breathing.

“Probably just a rat. Let's check it out just in case.”

You curse silently under your breath, watching as the guards start moving in your direction.

The first guard steps closer, his flashlight scanning the area. You silently crawl up the wall, positioning yourself above him. With a swift flick of your wrist, you shoot a web at the flashlight, yanking it out of his hand and into the darkness.

“What the—” the guard starts, but you quickly web his mouth shut and pull him up towards the ceiling, wrapping him tightly in webbing and securing him to the roof. You knock his head against the metal, and he passes out.

The second guard, alarmed by the sudden commotion, turns his back to you as he draws his weapon. The rifle fires, but your spider sense helps you dodge the shots. 

Cursing, you shoot a web at his feet, yanking his legs out from under him and sending him crashing to the ground. Before he can react, you web his hands to the floor and sling his weapon away.

Dropping from the ceiling, you slow your landing with a web and slam your foot down onto his head, knocking him out.

Despite the quiet disposal of the two guards, the earlier rifle shot already alerted the other workers and guards in the warehouse. You hear shouts and hurried footsteps approaching.

“Someone’s here! Find them!”

Guards scramble, their flashlights slicing through the darkness, casting erratic beams that dance across the warehouse walls. You sprint away, weaving between crates and machinery, but a new threat emerges from the shadows—a massive, burly man, easily twice your size. He’s built like a brick wall, his muscles straining against his uniform, and his face looks like it’s been chiseled out of stone, etched with a permanent scowl.

“Who’s messing around in 'ere?” the giant roars, his voice reverberating through the cavernous space. He brandishes a rifle, and from the looks of it, he seems to be their leader.

You glance at your watch—damn, it’s been two hours already. 

Only an hour left.

Still… you could probably get one fight in before leaving.

…

Swinging out of the shadows, you land in front of the giant, hands on your hips.

“Hi, Mr. Villain!” you call out, catching a punch he throws and giving his hand a playful shake. “I’m Spidey, your friendly neighborhood nuisance. Always nice to meet someone with such a ‘heavy’ presence. Looks like you’ve got a bit of a security problem here—totally my bad.”

The giant snarls at you. He fires his rifle, but you deftly dodge the bullets. With a swift move, you fire a web at his feet and arms, pinning him momentarily to the ground. The rifle is knocked from his hands, clattering out of reach.

The guards scramble to regroup, and you spring into action. Flipping back into the air, you disarm the remaining guards—quick web blasts here, a roundhouse kick there, an uppercut thrown. Each guard crumples under the assault, slamming against the walls one by one, webbed together in a tangled heap.

There’s a snap as the leader breaks free, roaring in fury and charging at you. You duck under his swinging arm and fire a web at a stack of crates. The crates topple and crash into his path, heavy wood and metal smashing together. He stumbles, cursing and flailing wildly.

“Careful there! You might just crush your own merchandise,” you taunt, sidestepping his erratic swings.

In that moment of distraction, you snatch his gun away with a quick webshot. But as you turn to face him again, a jolt of pure adrenaline slams through your veins, sharp and unrelenting, like an electric shock.

The world sharpens into hyperfocus. 

DANGER!

Your instincts scream at you to move. You leap to the side, but it’s already too late. A shadowy figure springs from the darkness, their knife catching a deadly glint in the harsh warehouse lights.

The blade slices through your suit, leaving a searing, agonizing wound. You stagger, clutching your side as blood seeps through the torn fabric and pools on the cold concrete. With a pained grimace, you muster the strength to shoot a web at the attacker, slamming them against the wall with a forceful swing.

“Spidey?! Come in. Shit. What happened to staying stealthy?” Morgan's voice crackles through the earpiece. “PEPPER, run back their vitals on me.”

A mechanical voice responds through your earpiece. “Vitals are stable. The wound is a deep six-inch laceration on the left side, with moderate blood loss, but the suit's padding has helped. The injury missed major organs and arteries. Immediate first aid and stitches are recommended.”

“Looks like I’ve got a new scar to show for tonight,” you heave, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as the giant stalks toward you. “But I’m not done yet.”

The man's roar shakes the warehouse.

“You think you can take me, you puny spider?!”

You lift your chin, tilting your head with a smirk. “Puny? That’s funny. I’ve taken down bigger.”

The giant lunges, brandishing a scrap of metal like a battering ram. You barely dodge, feeling the whoosh of air as it swings past. You retaliate with a web shot to his face, but he roars and swats it away, his massive arms tearing through your webbing.

“Careful there, big guy,” you quip, “I’m not into heavy metal, but thanks for the offer!”

His hand clamps onto your chest, lifting you off your feet with an alarming strength. He hurls you against a stack of crates, the impact slamming you into the wall. You slide down to the floor, dazed and with blood trickling from a split lip.

While you're down, the giant strides toward you, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground like a mini earthquake. You struggle to rise, just as he launches a flying knee. Your senses scream, a blaring alarm urging you to move.

!!!

With a yelp, you roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow that hits where you had been seconds before.

“Hey, watch it! I’ve got places to be after this!” you yell.

Before you can react, a powerful punch slams into your face, sending you spiraling backward.

“Owie. That one’s definitely gonna leave a mark,” you groan, pain radiating through your skull. Desperately, you shoot a web at his legs, hoping to slow him down. The webbing holds for a moment before he rips through it with sheer brute force.

Groaning, you shake off the dizziness, rolling your shoulders to loosen them before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Alright,” you mutter, taking a deep breath. “Clearly, the webs aren’t working. Guess we’re sticking to fists. Put ’em up, big guy.”

Laughing with a guttural, mocking tone, the giant charges at you. As he lunges, you brace yourself and bring your fist up to guard your face. With a burst of power, you jab forward. Your knuckles connect with his face with a sickening crunch, the sound of bone shattering and flesh splitting echoing through the warehouse like a thunderclap.

JAB!

The man staggers back, his head snapping violently to the side, blood spraying from his jaw. Before he can recover, you launch into a spinning kick. Your leg connects with explosive force, slamming him into the wall with a resounding thud.

You follow up with a powerful jump, driving a kick into his ribs. The impact echoes with a sickening crack. He roars in pain and collapses, slumped against the wall.

With quick reflexes, you shoot a web at a high pipe, coiling it tightly. You yank the pipe down with all your strength. It crashes onto the giant with a resounding clang, the impact knocking him out cold.

You take a couple of deep breaths, blood and sweat mingling on your clothes and face as you survey the wreckage. The giant groans weakly—alive, but definitely out of commission for the moment.

“Looks like the big guy’s all out of steam,” you murmur, wiping the blood from your brow with a grim smile. “Now, time to find that exit before my own steam runs out.”

With a final glance at the chaos you've left behind, you swing toward the exit. The cut on your side throbs with each movement—though it's slowly healing, the pain and blood are still very much present.

"Spidey? You alright? What the fuck, you just beat that guy within an inch of his life."

“He’ll live,” you huff as you swing through the streets. After fumbling around for a while, you pull your phone from your jacket and curse at the time. 

Only ten minutes before the car arrives. 

“Uh, Morgz, do me a favor. Where’s the nearest flower shop?”

"Christ. You just busted down an illegal tech deal and now you're out for flowers?" Morgan’s response comes through the earpiece before you hear some typing. “There’s a florist two blocks from your current location. I’m sending you the address. But—You really need to take care of that wound.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply. There's a ping as the location pops up on your phone. “Just need to pick up some flowers. Trust me, it’s important.”

You adjust your swing to head toward the florist, landing quietly in the alley outside. With quick movements, you slip off your mask and start changing. You discard your jacket, revealing the bloodied suit underneath. The suit’s dark color masks most of the stains, but it's still a grim sight.

Pulling on your shirt over the suit, you try to conceal the worst of the mess. The sticky, wet feeling of blood against your skin is unpleasant, and you grimace as you adjust the shirt. Finally, you slip the jacket back on, hoping it will help you blend in and give you a semblance of normalcy.

Taking a deep breath, you straighten up and glance at your reflection in the nearby puddle. The image staring back at you is a disheveled mess: hair tousled, face bruised and bloodied, jeans stained with grime and blood, and a jacket barely concealing it all.

“Not my best look,” you bite your lip. “But it’ll have to do.”

With a sigh, you step into the flower shop. The bell above the door jingles softly, and the warm, floral scent is a welcome relief from the warehouse’s stench.

The florist looks up from behind the counter with a curious glance. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your disheveled appearance but he doesn’t seem particularly fazed.

In Gotham, a bloodied teenager is probably just another Wednesday.

“Evening,” the florist says, his voice carrying the neutrality of someone accustomed to the oddities of city life. “What can I do for you?”

You give a quick nod, trying to keep your tone casual despite the blood still seeping through your shirt. “Need something nice. Simple. No need for anything flashy.”

The florist nods and starts arranging a bouquet of flowers. You drift over to a corner and find yourself looking at some daisies, their bright, cheerful colors a stark contrast to your current state.

“Spidey? How’s it going?” 

“Alright,” you shrug, though she can’t see it. “Can I get a rundown on my vitals again?”

Morgan’s voice hums and there’s the sound of clicking keys. “Vitals are stable. The cut is slowly healing, but you’ll need to properly bandage and get some of that stitched later Happy to say you're not going to die bleeding out.” 

She pauses, and then adds, “You’ve got a couple of broken ribs though.”

You blink in surprise and pat at your sides, feeling nothing. “Really? Guess that’s my pain tolerance working overtime. Didn’t even notice.”

“Please tell me you’re getting that treated first,” Morgan says, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Nope,” you reply, moving to pay for the flowers. “Already running late. Mom will kill me if she finds out.”

Morgan’s voice is laced with skepticism. “She’s going to find out anyway.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the twinge in your side. “I’ll just say it was a mugging.”

“Do you really think she’ll believe that?” Morgan asks, her tone dry.

You let out a small, pained chuckle. “In Gotham, maybe. But realistically…no. I’m just hoping to buy myself a little time before it all catches up to me.”

With the bouquet in hand, you head back out into the night. You tuck the flowers into your free pocket and swing off into the darkness. As you soar through the city, you reach for your earpiece and say a quick, “Goodnight, Morgz,” before shoving it into the pocket of your jeans.

Just as you near the bridge, your phone rings. You glance at the screen and curse under your breath—Selina’s calling, and from the look of it, she’s been trying to reach you multiple times over the past hour.

Yeah, you’re fucked.

You answer the call, forcing a casual tone. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

Selina’s voice comes through, clearly agitated. You can hear her huffing as she closes the apartment door, the background noise of a car engine rumbling outside. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting forever. We’re all set to head out.”

You quickly scan the streets below as you swing past, trying to gauge your location. “Uh, I’m on 2nd Broadway… actually, make that 3rd Broadway. And… 4th of Broadway! I’ll be there in… twenty minutes tops. Almost there, Mom!”

There’s a pause.

“... Are you swinging?”

“Nope,” you lie smoothly, narrowly dodging a pigeon that flaps angrily past your face. “Just a bit of a detour. You know how it is.”

“Honey. I can hear the wind. Are you really swinging around? It’s a school night. You know the rules—”

You wince, knowing you’ve been caught. “Just… had a few things to take care of. I’m on my way. Promise. Actually, why don’t I meet you at Wayne Manor instead? I’m near the bridge. Ya know, the one by the docks.”

There’s another pause on her end. 

“Why are you near the docks?!”

You avoid the question, trying to keep the conversation moving. “Long story. Look, I’m running late. Can we just meet at Wayne Manor? I’ll explain everything after dinner.”

Selina’s frustration doesn’t ease, but she sighs. “Fine. Wayne Manor it is. But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook, young lady.”

You nod, even though she can’t see it. “Understood. See you soon. Love you, Mom!”

༻⊰───⋅

BEEP.

Selina scowls as she ends the call and heads down to meet Alfred. The gritty streets of Gotham greet her, the cacophony of sirens and street chatter providing a harsh backdrop to her mood.

Alfred, noticing her irritated state, opens the door for her with a raised eyebrow. "Good to see you Miss Kyle. May I ask where the young miss is?"

Selina forces a smile, trying to mask her frustration. “She’s… handling something that came up last minute. She’ll meet us at the manor.”

"Very well. I trust she’ll be punctual." Alfred says, a hint of concern in his eyes, but he says nothing more. He closes the door behind her as she slips into the car, adjusting her coat and glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

The engine starts, the low hum blending with the city’s background noise. As the vehicle pulls away, Selina leans back against the cool leather seat, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, her mind already racing through the conversation she knows is coming.

You were dead meat.

༻⊰───⋅

After nearly an hour of high-speed swings through Gotham, you finally touch down in a secluded area near Wayne Manor. You're breathless and disheveled, your earlier efforts to look presentable having fallen short. You quickly scan the area, making sure the security cameras don’t catch your arrival.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you adjust your clothes and press the doorbell. The chime rings through the grand entrance. You glance at your phone and wince—you're an hour and thirty minutes late.

The swinging took longer than expected, and to make matters worse, you had to intervene when this ginger reporter was being robbed. You couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Now, as you wait by the gate, you hear footsteps approaching from inside. The door swings open to reveal Alfred, who freezes for a moment, his eyes widening at the sight of you—bruised, bloodied, and clearly worse for wear. You lean against the gate, your fingers curling around the metal.

“H—Hey, Al.”

“Goodness me!” Alfred exclaims, hurrying over to the gate and pulling it open wide.  He rushes over, opening the gate wider and pulling you inside with a practiced ease. His gaze sweeps over your injuries, concern etched deeply into his features. “Miss Kyle, you’re in quite a state!”

You manage a tired smile, carefully pulling the bouquet from your jacket. It’s in rough shape—torn petals, crushed blooms, and snapped stems. It looks like it’s on the verge of dying.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say, wincing as you hold up the sad arrangement. “These… are for you. I, uh, ran all the way here. I hope I’m not too late for dinner.”

Alfred takes the flowers with a gentle smile, his concern momentarily overshadowed by a touch of warmth. “Thank you, Miss Kyle. However, I assure you it’s fine. The others have already started eating. They won’t mind if you—”

“It’s fine! This is just…,” you pause, pursing your lips as you scramble for a plausible excuse. You force a smile, shaking your head and pulling your jacket hood further over your face to hide the swelling bruise around one of your eyes. “Hah, you know how Gotham can be.”

Alfred gives you a sympathetic glance but says nothing more. “Very well. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the dining room.”

He guides you through the grand hallways, your footsteps echoing in the vast space and mingling with the soft murmur of conversation. As you reach the dining room, the door swings open, revealing a table set with care and already abuzz with activity. Selina, Bruce, and the others are seated, their animated conversations abruptly halting as they turn to look at you.

The room falls into a stunned silence, every gaze drawn to your disheveled, bloodied appearance.

Selina’s eyes narrow into slits, her irritation barely concealed behind a strained, tight-lipped smile. Bruce’s complexion drains to an ashen hue, his eyes are wide as saucers, looking like he’s about to pass out from shock. He casts Selina a panicked glance, which she meets with a weary sigh, her hands momentarily covering her face as if trying to shield herself from the mess. She looks utterly drained.

You attempt a casual wave, but it comes off as weak and awkward. Blood drips from your bruised knuckles, each drop splattering with a muted plop onto the polished floor. “Hey, everyone. Sorry, I’m late.”

Jason’s eyes flare with a dangerous glint of green as he barks, “What the fuck happened, kid?”

Next to him, Cassandra’s face is blank. Her fingers fidget with her utensils as she shifts her gaze rapidly between you and Selina, trying to piece together the fractured narrative from your battered appearance and Selina’s body language.

Bruce, who had been quietly observing, stands up and approaches you with slow, measured steps.

“You’re hurt,” he says, his voice a deep, resonant murmur. His hands, surprisingly gentle for their strength, settle on your shoulders. His eyes, usually as inscrutable as the dark depths of a stormy sea, now soften with the tenderness of a lighthouse guiding you through a night. “What happened, kiddo?”

There’s a strange, twisting sensation in your gut, flaring just beneath your ribs. A lump rises in your throat, and despite your best efforts to stay composed, your eyes begin to well up.

“I—” you begin, but the words falter. Your gaze drifts across the room and locks onto Damian’s eyes. They’re like emeralds, gleaming with a ferocity that seems to pierce through the walls you’ve built. Though he remains silent, his piercing look conveys a thousand unspoken thoughts and emotions.

A wave of shame is crashing into you, pushing your words back down. “Just… a rough night. Got into a fight.” 

Bruce’s eyes narrow, and a wave of seething anger ripples through him. You try to ignore it. 

“And who was this?” he demands, his voice a controlled, simmering growl.

“It’s okay. It ended up alright,” you try to shrug it off, forcing a casual tone. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks. Just a run-in with some rando on the street.”

Everyone’s reactions vary, but it’s the look in Selina’s eyes that strikes you the hardest. Selina’s weary gaze peeks out from behind her hands, and the sight makes your face crumple.

“Pull off your hood,” Selina commands, icy and devoid of warmth. As she straightens in her chair, her blood-red nails dig into the mahogany table, turning her knuckles as pale as frost.

You keep your gaze fixed on the polished marble floor, scuffing the dried mud across its pristine surface. The silence in the room grows heavier with each passing second.

“Take off the damn hood and show me your face!”

Scowling and clenching your jaw, you yank the hood off. As it falls away, the full extent of your injuries is laid bare. Selina’s eyes widen as they take in the black eye, the bruises, and the cuts that mar your face. Her shock quickly morphs into a deepening scowl, her lips trembling as she fights to control her rising anger.

Everyone waiting for the outburst that is sure to follow.

Instead, Selina’s hands fly to cover her face, and she looks as though she might fall apart at any moment.

Bruce stares at you with something akin to horror.

Before anyone can react further, Damian abruptly stands, his chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, he strides over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you out of the room. 

His muttered words are barely audible, “I’ll take care of their injuries.”

Bruce moves back to Selina’s side, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he tries to offer comfort. 

You can hear his soft, reassuring whisper as you walk away, “You can stay for the night. It’s too late to head out now. Give her some time.”

Selina, her face still pale and troubled, nods gratefully, her gaze tracking Damian as he helps you toward the manor’s second floor.

Damian ushers you into his room, the door closing behind you with a decisive click. He motions to the bed, and you sink onto it with a heavy sigh, the weight of the day dragging at your limbs.

You watch Damian retreat to the bathroom, your gaze lingering on the raw, bloodied skin of your knuckles, tinged with a gnawing sense of guilt.

Moments later, he returns with a first aid kit in hand. He kneels before you, reaching out to tug off your jacket, but you quickly shake your head, not wanting him to discover the suit beneath.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom,” you rasp. Damian silently nods, moving to his closet and pulling out one of his cotton shirts and boxers. He hands them to you with a resigned sigh and leans against the wall beside the bathroom door, giving you the privacy you need.

You take the clothes from Damian and head to the bathroom. As you push open the door, the dim light casts long shadows across the tiled floor. You deliberately avoid meeting your reflection in the mirror, not wanting to confront the full extent of the mess you’re in.

Once inside, you drop Damian’s shirt and boxers onto the floor, followed by your jacket, shirt, and pants. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound as it lands. With a deep, steadying breath, you begin peeling off your suit, slow and painstaking.

As the suit peels away from your skin, the blood and sweat that have soaked into it reveal the severity of your injuries. You wince as the cut on your side comes fully into view, a raw, angry red line that stretches from just below your rib cage to the middle of your side. It looks even worse up close—jagged and still oozing a bit despite the healing process.

You quickly change into Damian’s boxers, opting to keep the shirt off for now. You carefully bundle your suit and hide it under your jacket and pants, folding it as neatly as you can manage. With a deep breath, you step back into the room.

Damian’s eyes narrow as he assesses the cut on your side, now reduced to a four-inch scar due to your enhanced healing abilities. His gaze is hard, and you can almost see the weight of the lecture that would have come if he’d seen the injury in its original, more severe state. 

“Sit down,” Damian finally speaks, his voice firm. He begins to open the first aid kit, movements slow. You drop your ruined clothes in a far corner and plop back down on his bed, rubbing your hands together nervously.

A beat passes as Damian finishes cleaning the wound and reaches for the anesthesia, preparing to start stitching you up. You shake your head and push his hand away. “I can take it.”

“No,” Damian scowls and continues his work. He applies the anesthesia despite your protests, injecting it around the wound to numb the area. The needle pierces your skin with a sharp sting, followed by a dull, throbbing sensation as the anesthetic begins to take effect.

He sets the syringe aside and picks up a pair of sterilized tweezers and needle and thread. You watch as he carefully makes the first stitch, his hands steady and precise. The thread pulls tight, closing the wound with a series of tight, even stitches.

His long lashes flutter over his hooded eyes with each focused blink, his emerald gaze intense and filled with concern. The warm ambient light of the room casts a gentle glow on his deep tan skin, accentuating the chiseled contours of his face in a soft, almost ethereal light.

The beam of light highlights the light almost invisible scar that stretches from his cheekbone to his crooked nose, tracing the elegant curve of his cheekbone and the strong, defined line of his jaw. Your gaze drifts to his full lips, noting the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip.

His hair is meticulously styled, with longer strands on top falling in inky, sleek waves across his forehead, remnants of gel catching the light. Damian’s thick, well-kept hair frames his face like brush strokes, adding to his strikingly handsome appearance.

Unable to hold yourself back, you raise a hand to cup his cheek. Damian hums, a low, soothing sound that rumbles in his chest. He keeps his eyes focused on your wound but tilts his head slightly to press a soft, tender kiss to your wrist.

With the stitches complete, Damian shifts his attention to bandaging the wound. He secures the bandage, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he smooths out the edges. Finally, he raises his head and meets your gaze, eyes conveying everything he can’t say aloud.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you slump into Damian’s embrace, dropping your hands onto his shoulders. He responds instinctively, taking your hands in his. Large, calloused fingers gently lift yours, pressing a tender kiss to each of them before moving to softly kiss your bruised knuckles.

With a whisper of your name, Damian draws your hands over his shoulders. You smile, sinking deeper into his embrace, arms draped over his strong back. Damian holds you close, lifting you off the bed as he pulls you into a hug. His arms wound up around your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

“You know, trying to keep secrets from me is pointless,” Damian murmurs, a thinly veiled threat in his words peppering kisses up the side of your neck. “I am the son of the greatest detective in the world. I will find out what happened.”

You chuckle softly, feeling the tension ease a bit. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me hold you, you insufferable know-it-all.”

Damian’s grip tightens slightly. His forehead rests against yours, hearts swimming in his emerald eyes. “You’re lucky I tolerate your nonsense. But seriously, you need to start talking.”

“Maybe later,” you reply, smiling against his shoulder. “Right now, I just need you.”

༻⊰───⋅

An hour later, it’s already 1 AM, but you and Damian are still awake, watching a show on his television. You’re curled up together on his bed, the flickering light from the screen painting the room in shifting hues of blue and gray, casting gentle shadows that dance across the walls.

You rest your head against Damian’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close. Despite the late hour, the warmth and comfort of his embrace keep you from drifting off.

“This show is surprisingly bearable,” Damian murmurs.

You smile, nuzzling closer. “Told you it was worth a watch. Thanks for staying up with me.”

Damian’s fingers gently stroke your hair, each touch a soothing rhythm against your scalp. “Of course I’d do it, even if it means enduring your rather questionable taste in television.”

You scoff, pretending to be wounded. “Questionable taste? This show is a gem. You just don’t want to admit I’ve expanded your horizons.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Expanded my horizons? More like subjected me to a marathon of pedestrian entertainment.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite his words. The episode continues, the soft hum of the TV blending with the comforting rhythm of Damian’s breathing. The earlier tension and worry seem to dissolve into the background, replaced by a quiet intimacy.

Damian’s hand moves slowly, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His thumb begins to trace gentle, deliberate patterns on your back. You shiver slightly at the unexpected sensation, a delicate ripple of warmth spreading through you. His touch is soft yet firm, spelling out something with careful precision.

Though you don’t fully grasp the intent behind his touch, Damian’s fingers trace a delicate script across your skin, inscribing the words of Talia’s favorite Arabic love poem onto your back.

“My life shall be sacrificed for her beauty,” his thumb whispers across your skin, “my blood shall be spilled freely for her, and though I burn for her painfully, like a candle, none of my days shall ever be free of this pain. Let me love, oh my God, love for love’s sake, and make my love a hundred times as great as it was and is.”

The gentle pressure of his touch, the rhythmic way his thumb moves, slowly eases you into sleep. As each verse of the poem is imprinted on your skin, you find yourself drifting off, nestled against his chest. Damian tenderly presses his lips to your temple, wishing you sweet dreams.

༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 3:02 AM - Damian's Room, Wayne Manor.

Dick moves stealthily down the moonlit hallway, his footsteps muffled against the plush carpet. He reaches Damian’s door and pushes it open with a gentle nudge. Despite his careful approach, the old hinges protest with a loud, protesting creak, shattering the quiet of the night and immediately stirring Damian from his sleep.

The sudden noise jolts Damian awake, his reflexes kicking in. His eyes snap open, and in a heartbeat, his muscles tense as he instinctively tightens his protective embrace around you. The world outside fades as his focus zeroes in on the intruder.

Damian’s gaze narrows into a steely glare as he locks onto Dick. In a seamless, fluid motion, he throws aside the blankets and reaches beneath the bed, his hand closing around the hilt of a gleaming katana.

Without hesitation, he draws the blade with a swift, practiced flick, sending the katana arcing through the air toward Dick. 

SHINK!

Dick stumbles back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. The katana thuds harmlessly into the wall beside him, its sharp edge embedded in the wood just inches from his head. 

"Such a dramatic wake-up call… Good morning to you too," Dick grins, clearly used to this routine. “Alright. I know it’s late, but Selina is still up. I think she wants to talk to Y/N.”

Damian’s snarl is a low, dangerous rumble. “If you wake her, I will cut your hands off.”

Dick raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by the threat. “Come on, baby bird. It’s not that big of a deal. Just let her know she’s needed.”

Damian’s eyes remain locked on Dick, a burning intensity that could have melted steel. Yet, after a long, tense moment, he grudgingly nods, the anger in his posture easing ever so slightly. With careful precision, he unwinds himself from the cocoon of blankets that envelops you, making sure not to jostle you awake.

!!!

But as Damian shifts, your senses stir, your eyes fluttering open to the dim light of the room. Your hand moves instinctively, reaching out to grasp Damian’s wrist, your fingers curling around him with a surprising strength. The sudden contact startles Damian, and he pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.

Confusion and concern flash across your face as you murmur, “Dames?”

He pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you, his eyes reflecting a tender regret. “It’s okay. I apologize for waking you, but Miss Kyle is calling for you.”

You tense immediately, and Damian feels a pang of guilt unfurl in his gut for disrupting your rest.

You sigh softly and rise slowly, wincing slightly as though the wound still bothers you. Although your injury has healed, you  keep up the act, unwilling to make it too obvious that you’re fine. You know you’re on thin ice, and the last thing you want is to make things more suspicious.

Damian instinctively moves to support you, his hand steadying your back with a reassuring touch as you rise. Dick, lingering at the doorway, casts an apologetic glance your way.

Damian helps you to your feet, his touch steady and reassuring. He retrieves his soccer jacket from a nearby chair and drapes it around your shoulders with a gentle, almost reverent touch. The jacket, well-worn and carrying the faint scent of his cologne, envelops you in its soft, reassuring warmth. 

As you and Damian approach the door to his room, you hesitate and turn to him.

“I think I need to handle this alone,” you say quietly. “Can you wait here?”

Damian's eyes narrow slightly, and he hesitates, his protective instincts flaring.

“Are you sure?” he asks, running a hand up your back.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Yes, it’s better this way. I’ll be fine.”

Damian’s expression softens reluctantly. “Alright. I will be right here if you need me, beloved.”

You watch as Damian retreats to his room, his hand sliding around the katana lodged in the doorframe. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he withdraws the blade, the metal glinting momentarily before the door closes softly behind him. Dick, meanwhile, falls into step beside you and guides you down the corridor. His presence is steady and reassuring, a calming force in the tense atmosphere.

As you walk, Dick leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur. “Your mom’s been on edge all night. I’m… not sure what’s going on, but she made it clear she wanted to talk to you immediately.”

You nod, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying to keep your tone steady.

Dick’s expression turns serious, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You really gave us a scare,” he says, his tone softening. “Just remember, as a future Mrs. Wayne, we’ve got your back, no matter what.”

You chuckle softly, the warmth of his words offering a small measure of comfort. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead as you reach the door to Selina’s room.

You turn the knob and push the door open.

Tall windows, framed by heavy drapes, stand slightly ajar, allowing the Gotham breeze to drift through the room. The curtains flutter rhythmically, whispering softly against the glass panes. Selina stands by the window, her silhouette etched sharply against the city’s glittering skyline. Her back is to you, tense and rod-straight.

The door clicks shut behind you, and she turns her head slightly, her gaze meeting yours with a cool, unreadable intensity.

"Are you going to start talking, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

“I was just—” you stammer, struggling to find the right words. “I passed by, okay? I saw the situation and I had to intervene—”

Selina cuts you off with a sharp twist of her head. “I have eyes. I know what happened. I was informed about a tech shipment—an underground tech shipment by the docks. It was infiltrated. They found all the men webbed. Webbed. To the walls and floors. Don’t lie to me, honey.”

You sigh, the weight of the truth settling heavily on your shoulders. “Yeah. Okay,” you admit, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed. “It… was planned.”

Selina’s eyes narrow dangerously as she strides towards you, heels clicking sharply against the floors. Her silhouette, framed by the soft, muted glow of the city lights filtering through the window, looms larger than life.

“Did you have a single clue as to whose men those were?” she demands, her voice slicing through the silence like a whip crack.

“I knew,” you say quietly, “I knew they were connected to Black Mask. It was a tip-off, and I thought if I could just—”

“You thought? You thought what? That you could handle it alone?” Selina’s eyes flash. “This isn’t some playground for you to experiment with your powers. You’re dealing with dangerous people—people who won’t hesitate to kill. And if you get yourself hurt—or worse—what good are you to anyone?”

You lower your eyes, feeling the sting of her words as if each one were a reprimand meant to cut deeper. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Sorry isn’t going to undo this mess!” she snaps, her hands gripping the edge of a table.

A hand tangles itself into her hair, strands of hair failing over her gaze. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? What you’ve risked by acting recklessly? I’m not just scolding you because I’m angry. I’m scared. You’re my responsibility”

Your anger surges, and you shout, “I know, Mom! I know!” The words escape before you can stop them.

Selina’s expression shifts from anger to hurt, her eyes momentarily softening before hardening again. “Don’t take that tone with me."

“Excuse me?” you snap, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever lost something? Every time I bring up my mother, you just give me the bare minimum! I was going to start digging eventually.”

Selina’s eyes widen, a mix of hurt and frustration flashing across her face. “You think I’m holding back information from you? I’m trying to protect you! When your mother died, I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else I cared about get hurt."

“We’re so past that! I’m already knee-deep in this world,” you say desperately, your voice rising. “Mom, look at me! Just look! I have Spider DNA in my veins. My boyfriend is a vigilante. I’ve faced kidnappings and attempts on my life ever since I was born! You can’t keep treating me like a child who needs to be sheltered from reality.”

“I raised you! ” Selina screams, raw and primal, the words tearing from her throat with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned. “I gave up everything to keep you safe, to try and shield you from the worst parts of this life because I couldn’t bear to lose you too!” 

Her voice shatters mid-sentence, the tears slipping from her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. But she doesn’t stop, pushing through, her words tumbling out in a frantic, desperate rush. “Every time you put yourself at risk, it’s like ripping open a wound that never heals! Don’t you get that? I can’t—I won’t—lose you, too!”

The raw emotion in her voice shatters your anger, melting it away like ice under a warm sun. You step forward, your movements gentle as you grab onto her shoulders, guiding her down into a chair. 

“I know, Ma,” you murmur, your voice softening as you try to soothe her. “I know it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry.”

Selina breathes heavily, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “I know. I know you’ve been through so much. It’s just—I don’t want you to be a target for Black Mask. He’s a fucking monster, and I didn’t want you to be in his crosshairs.”

“I’m already in his crosshairs,” you whisper, bending down and reaching into your sock, where you’ve hidden the flash drive containing the information you retrieved from the warehouse. You had tucked it in earlier while changing in the bathroom.

“This,” you continue, holding up the small device, “is information on all his future activities. This was the mission I had earlier.”

Selina’s eyes widen in alarm, her fear quickly reigniting into fury. “Have you put no thought into the rules I set? Putting yourself in that kind of danger—” 

“Danger I’m already in,” you cut her off. “Danger I’m about to face.”

"Y/N," Selina hisses out in warning, her eyes flashing dangerously, fangs glinting in the moonlight like a cornered cat.

“What? You think you can stop me?” you scowl as she stands. “I’m done playing by your rules. And if you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to take you down.”

Selina’s eyes narrow, and a scornful smile twists on her lips.

"Prove it."

“What?” you manage to choke out.

Without a word, she launches herself toward you. Her foot whips out in a sharp, hard kick, sending you reeling backward. You hit the small balcony with a heavy thud, the harsh chill of the metal biting into your skin.

A pained grunt escapes you as you scramble to regain your footing, the cold air wrapping around you like a bitter embrace. 

"Prove it, honey," Selina taunts, her voice dripping with contempt as she saunters toward you. She draws her claws with a slow, deliberate motion, the metal gleaming ominously in the dim light. “Show me you’ve got some fight.”

Before you can fully recover, Selina is on you again. You barely evade her claws, landing heavily on the cold metal railings. The chill bites into your feet, but you push off the railing with a powerful leap, ready to re-engage.

Selina's leg sweeps toward you with brutal intent, aiming to knock you off balance. Reacting quickly, you shoot a web to the railing, swinging yourself back into position and avoiding her strike.

You retaliate with a hard kick to her chest. The impact sends Selina sprawling, her body slamming into the ground. She rolls to absorb the blow, springing back up.

Her eyes flash with anger as she leaps from the balcony’s ledge, executing a high-spinning kick. You twist in mid-air, grabbing the edge of the balcony to dodge her attack and pulling yourself back onto solid ground.

“If you try to stop me, if you try to control me, you’ll only push me further away,” you shout, breath coming in sharp bursts. “And I promise, I’ll fight back with everything I’ve got.”

"Then fight!" 

As she swings at you again, you snatch her wrist, twisting it with a sharp, decisive motion. With a sudden push, you force her own claws against her, the cold metal slicing into her shoulder.

Selina hisses in pain, her body recoiling as she shoves you away. The razor edges of her claws carve a deep, angry line across her shoulder, a vivid stripe of crimson blooming against her skin and staining her outfit.

The sight of it catches you off guard, a sharp pang of guilt gripping you as her pain registers. You stand frozen, eyes locked on the streaks of red that disrupt the perfection of her skin. 

“Mom—” your throat tightens. “I’m so—”

Selina starts to smile, a small, almost reluctant grin that slowly grows wider. The sight is so unexpected that it momentarily takes you aback. Then, much to your surprise, she begins to laugh—a rich, genuine sound filled with a mix of relief, amusement, and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“You think this is funny?!” you exclaim, bewildered and on the verge of anger.

Selina looks at you with a bitter smile, her laughter fading. She clutches her bleeding shoulder, her expression softening as she lets out a long sigh.

“You really are my daughter,” she murmurs.

You slowly ease from your defensive stance, confusion furrowing your brows.

“Alright, fine. Point proven,” she continues, voice gentler now. “Trying to cage you would only make you fight harder to claw your way out. Literally. I should know better than anyone how that feels.”

“O… kay?” you mutter, still grappling with the sudden shift in her demeanor. “So, I guess we’ve proven my point. What now?”

“Now,” she says slowly, “we talk. Like sane adults. No more clawing each other’s faces off.”

༻⊰───⋅

An hour later, both of you sit on the edge of the bed, cradling cups of warm jasmine tea from the tea set provided in your room—because, of course, each guest room in the Wayne Manor has one.

The steam rises gently from the cups, warming your fingers and offering a soothing contrast to the cool air. Selina sits across from you, her shoulder wrapped in bandages.

As you sit on the edge of the bed, you fill Selina in on everything that’s happened: the mugging with Morgan, the shooting when you saved her, and the whole "guy in the chair" thing. You’re honest about all the other stuff and the support you’ve received, but you leave out the fact that Tony Stark knows your secret identity, keeping that bit to yourself for now.

Selina stares at her cup of tea, her eyes wide with disbelief. The steady ticking of a clock fills the room, punctuating the silence as she processes what you've just shared.

“So, you’ve been pulling all the strings?” she asks. "Orchestrating all of this?"

You lick your lips, choosing your words carefully. Orchestrating is a strong word. More like everything is falling into place. But that does sound better.

“Something like that,” you say, nodding.

Selina blinks, taking a slow, contemplative sip of her tea. “Trying to rein you in would be a lost cause at this point,” she says, setting her cup down. “So, what exactly is the plan from here?”

You place your cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink, the porcelain’s gentle chime briefly breaking the quiet. “I need to dig deeper into Black Mask’s operations. With Morgan’s help, I’ve got the tech and the intel, but there’s still a lot we don’t know.”

Selina nods, tracing a finger along the rim of her cup, her gaze distant. “Batman will notice. The moment you step out into the city proper, you’re going to be a target. And once you’re on his radar, a contingency plan will be set.”

You stay silent, fiddling with your fingers.

Selina’s gaze hardens. “And that’s what worries me. Bruce is just a man—no powers, no special DNA. But if he sets his mind to something, he can take anyone down. I don’t want you caught in that crossfire.”

You open your mouth, but Selina cuts you off.

“That’s why I’ve had my own contingency plan in case Gotham ever fell apart.”

You glance at her, a thread of dread weaving itself into your thoughts. “Contingency plan?”

Selina nods, her tone heavy. “When I first took you in, my plan was to leave Gotham as soon as possible. But then the Catwoman thing happened, and I got… sentimental. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Still, I made sure we had a backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

Selina’s expression softens slightly. “I bought an apartment in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a safehouse—somewhere to go if things got too dangerous here. I even set up fake identities for us, just in case we needed to disappear fast.”

“Metropolis?” you ask, your disbelief coming through with a half-smile. “Seriously?”

Selina winces, her expression sours. “Yes, it was meant to be a last resort. If things ever got too out of control, or if our secrets got out, it was our escape plan. I didn’t want us to be hunted down. I wanted us to have a safe place to go.” 

She cracks her knuckles, releasing some of the tension in her hands.

“It’s still an option if things get too messy. But for now, I’ll help you as much as I can here."

༻⊰───⋅

Damian walks up the stairs, his steps muted against the polished wood. In his hand, he clutches a thick blanket he’s taken from the storeroom. The absence of your presence has made his room feel uncomfortably cold, and he refuses to go back to sleep without you there.

As he nears the guest room where you and Selina are deep in conversation, he slows his pace, the soft hum of your voices drifting through the slightly ajar door. 

He knows he should respect your privacy—a lesson he’s learned the hard way after being caught tailing you during patrols more than once. But his curiosity tugs at him. 

He lingers outside the room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, straining to catch snippets of the conversation drifting through the slightly ajar door.

“That’s why I’ve had my own contingency plan in case Gotham ever fell apart.”

The voices are muffled, but Damian can detect the guilt in Selina’s tone.

“Contingency plan?”

There was a pause.

“When I first took you in, my plan was to leave Gotham as soon as possible. But then the Catwoman thing happened, and I got… sentimental. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Still, I made sure we had a backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

“I bought an apartment in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a safehouse—somewhere to go if things got too dangerous here. I even set up fake identities for us, just in case we needed to disappear fast.”

Damian freezes.

"Metropolis? Really?"

Selina’s voice carries a note of sorrow. “Yes, it was meant to be a last resort. If things ever got too out of control, or if our secrets got out, it was our escape plan. I didn’t want us to be hunted down. I wanted us to have a safe place to go.” 

Damian remains frozen in place.

Hunt? Who was hunting you down that made Selina think it was necessary to move rather than seek help from his father? Did she not trust Batman's abilities? Did she not trust his?

His grip on the blanket tightens until his knuckles turn white, the rough fabric digging into his palms like a searing brand. A bitter, acrid taste rises in his throat, mingling with the bile of frustration and helplessness.

Had he not proven his devotion enough? Each time he threw himself into the fray, each time he fought with everything he had, did she still doubt his ability to protect you? His every act of defiance, every sacrifice, should have been proof—shouldn’t it? 

Did she think that running away was the answer? Did she believe that abandoning Gotham and leaving him and Bruce out of the fight was a better choice? Her secretive plans, her carefully crafted illusions of safety, were they really a solution?

Panic starts to claw at him, twisting his insides into a tight knot. Or maybe it was because of him? 

Gods, he knew you were too good for him, but was he so inadequate that she thought hiding you away was the only option? The thoughts gnaw at him like ravenous insects, feasting on his insecurities. He can almost feel the raw, hot sting of failure as it eats away at him from within. 

He remembers the first day he was left with Bruce, the way his own father looked at him, the way his brothers looked at him—like something about him was inherently wrong. 

He was the outsider, the boy who had to claw and tear and rip his way into their world, proving his worth to a family he barely understood, a family that barely understood him.

Every mistake he made, every bout of uncontrollable rage, felt like blood on his hands—dark, sticky, and impossible to wash away. Another mark on his name. 

And now, Selina’s confession feels like another blow to his fragile sense of self-worth. If even she doesn’t trust him, if even she thinks he’s not enough to protect you, what does that say about him?

His legs grow numb, his head spins with disorientation. The edges of his vision blur, and each breath comes in shallow, frantic bursts. He stumbles forward, driven by an overwhelming need to escape. His body moves on its own, carrying him towards his room.

Was he what Selina was protecting you from?

The thought strikes him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling. The blood, the violence, the cold efficiency with which he was taught to kill—it all comes rushing back. Damian was trained to be an assassin, raised by the League of Shadows to be a weapon, a tool of destruction.

He feels numb as he stumbles into his room, the familiar surroundings doing little to comfort him. He collapses onto the floor, his legs giving way as he sinks to his knees. Clutching the blanket to his chest, he tries to draw some warmth from its fabric, but it feels like an inadequate shield against the cold, hollow emptiness that gnaws at him from within.

The voices of doubt and self-loathing grow louder, echoing in his mind. Damian doesn't know how long he's been sitting on the floor, trying to control his breathing. Time seems to blur, each second stretching into an eternity. His thoughts spiral, a maelstrom of fear and insecurity, until he hears the soft creak of the door opening.

You stumble in, and he freezes.

Your eyes widen as you take in his disheveled state, the blanket clutched tightly in his hands, his face pale and eyes wide with panic. You rush to his side, dropping to your knees beside him.

"Dames," you whisper. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He tries to speak, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he shakes his head, unable to meet your gaze. He doesn't deserve to.

You hush gently, raising your hands to his face. "Can I touch you? You’re having a panic attack, baby."

He nods, his breath still coming in shallow gasps. Your hands are warm and steady as you cup his face, your thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks.

"Look at me," you murmur softly. "Focus on me. Breathe with me."

He struggles to follow your instructions, his eyes locking onto yours. You take a deep breath in, exaggerating the motion, and slowly exhale. He tries to mimic you, his breaths hitching but gradually evening out.

"That's it," you encourage. "In and out, nice and slow. You're doing great."

Damian's grip on the blanket loosens slightly as he continues to focus on your breathing, finding a semblance of calm in the steady rhythm. Your presence anchors him, drawing him away from the chaotic storm in his mind.

"You’re safe," you whisper. "I’m here with you. Just keep breathing."

Gradually, the tension in his body begins to ease. He leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. The panic that had gripped him so fiercely started to ebb away, replaced by a fragile sense of security.

He sits there, the silence heavy around him, before his voice breaks through it, rough and raw. "Are you scared of me?" he asks.

The question hangs in the air. He doesn’t mention what he overheard, but the question reveals the depth of his doubt.

You gently brush a strand of hair from his face, your eyes soft with understanding. "Scared of you? Damian, I’m not scared of you."

He clenches his fists, the blanket still wrapped around his hands. "I… I can’t seem to do anything right. It’s like I’m always falling short."

"You’re not falling short," you reassure him softly. "You’re human, and you’re trying your best."

You lean in, your lips pressing against his in a tender, reassuring kiss. As you pull back, your eyes are filled with a deep sorrow.

"Can I ask what brought this on?" you whisper.

Damian takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the floor as he gathers his thoughts.

“I overheard part of a conversation between you and Selina,” Damian begins, his voice sharp and dripping with bitter resentment. “She spoke of a contingency plan involving an apartment in Metropolis and expressed concerns about someone hunting you down. If… If she felt the need to protect you from something by leaving, does that mean that I’m not enough? That I’m not capable of keeping you safe?”

His words come out with an edge. He meets your gaze with eyes darkened by hurt and anger. “I wanted to be someone you could rely on, someone who could safeguard you, not merely another liability. But now it seems I’m just… inadequate. As if my dedication and efforts amount to nothing.”

You start to speak, but Damian interrupts. “Who’s hunting you down? What’s going on? Beloved, I’ve let you into my life—please, let me into yours.”

“I know, baby,” you say softly, running a hand through your tousled hair as you try to gather your thoughts. “Alright, okay, I need to tell you about something important. It’s about the spider vigilante, alright? There’s something you need to understand.”

“Again with this?” Damian scoffs, his hurt evident as he starts to rise from the floor. The movement makes you panic, and you grab his arm, pulling him back down.

“Nonono, wait,” you say urgently, trying to steady your voice. “Forget that for now. There’s something else I need to talk about—something personal. It’s about me, and I need you to listen.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay. There’s a lot more going on than you realize. I’m investigating Black Mask. He’s got some operation threatening Gotham, and it’s connected to everything that’s been happening lately. I’m trying to figure out what he’s up to, and…”

You pause, struggling to find the right words. “And I might have something to do with that vigilante spider you’ve seen around.”

Damian’s eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He stands there, his mind racing as he pieces together the implications of your confession.

The increased absences, the unexplained injuries—suddenly, everything starts to make sense. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. How did he not connect the dots? The vigilance, the secrecy—it all makes sense now.

You’re the one being hunted.

Brows threaded together, Damian steps closer, taking your hands in his. His fingers brush over your skin, gently massaging small circles.

“I understand,” he says with a grave tone. “I suspected as much. You don’t need to explain yourself, beloved.”

You smile in relief, misinterpreting his seriousness for support of your dual life as Spidey.

“I was going to tell you,” you say, your tone warm and reassuring. “Just… couldn’t find the right moment.”

Damian’s eyes soften, but a steely resolve glimmers within them as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering.

If the spider is the threat, then it’s the spider he’ll take down.

༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 7:53 AM - Stark Industries, Gotham City.

Hours later, Damian pulls up to the sleek, glass-fronted Stark Industries building. The structure towers above, its façade a mesmerizing expanse of reflective glass panels that catch and scatter the sunlight, creating a dazzling play of colors. A polished steel entrance welcomes visitors, a bustling crowd already walking in and out.

As the car comes to a smooth stop, he turns to you with a soft, reassuring smile. You reach over, pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips.

His fingers gently brush your cheek as he murmurs against your lips, “Be careful.”

“I will,” you beam, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Promise.”

With one last lingering look, Damian reaches over to unlock the car door. You open it and step out onto the curb, unloading your bags. Damian gives you a final wave as he shifts the car into gear, gliding smoothly down the street and disappearing into the city’s bustling flow.

You clutch your bags tightly in your hands. Exhaustion pulls at your every muscle—patrol, the fight, and the travel have left you feeling like you're on the edge of collapse. After everything that went down last night, you can’t help but feel a bit relieved about the month off from school, courtesy of your internship.

Bags under your eyes betray the sleepless night, while the oversized shirt and sweatpants you’ve borrowed from Damian make you look more like you’ve just rolled out of bed than a professional intern.

Technically, you did roll out of bed, having snagged only about three hours of sleep.

How the hell did Batman and the Robins manage to juggle this kind of life week in and week out? Right now, you feel like death is just a breath away, waiting to claim you.

“Hey, kiddo!” Tony Stark’s voice calls out from a distance, cutting through your fog of exhaustion. “You planning to stand there and stare at the building all day?”

He steps out of his sleek convertible, tossing his keys to the valet with a flick of his wrist that’s more showmanship than necessity. As he strides towards you, his eyes do a quick sweep over your state.

“I offer you the top spot in my program, and this is how you show up?” Tony says, giving you a light shove on the shoulder.

You give a weary sigh and shuffle alongside him into the building. “Good to see you too, Mr. Stark.”

Tony continues with a smirk, “Don’t worry, you’re not the first intern to look like they’ve been dragged through a war zone.”

He leads you into the sleek, glass-walled elevator, pressing the button for the upper floors. The elevator hums softly as it ascends.

You turn to him, trying to muster the energy to keep up with his banter. “So, where’s Morgan?”

“Working on your new tech stuff,” Tony replies. “She’s buried under a mountain of circuits and cables. If you’re lucky, you might get to see her emerge from her tech fortress.”

The elevator doors slide open, revealing the upper floors of Stark Tower. Tony leads you down a pristine, modern hallway where glossy surfaces catch the ambient light, enhancing the tower’s futuristic vibe. He stops in front of a door adorned with a sleek plaque bearing your name.

You gawk at it, your sleep-deprived brain barely processing the sight. “Damn.”

Tony pushes open the door, revealing a spacious, elegantly furnished room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the cityscape, and the room is equipped with a large, comfortable bed, a sleek desk, and a cozy seating area.

“Welcome to your new digs,” Tony says, gesturing grandly. “I’d say it’s a bit of a step up from your old place. Given your current state, though, I’d suggest you take it easy for now. Rest up, and maybe try to look less like you’ve just walked off a horror set, okay?”

Despite your exhaustion, a small but genuine smile tugs at your lips as you take in the surroundings. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. It’s really… nice.”

With a casual salute, Tony heads towards the door. “Anytime. Now, go on and get some rest. I’ll let Morgan know you’re here. If she manages to claw her way out from under her tech mountain, she might swing by to say hi.”

༻⊰───⋅

A few hours later, you’re well-rested and dressed in a much more presentable outfit: a crisp white button-up shirt with the first few buttons undone, tucked neatly into flared slacks, and paired with white sneakers.

After one last check in the mirror, you give your appearance a satisfied nod, then rub the last remnants of sleep from your eyes. You head out of your room and make your way toward the elevator.

Pressing the button, the elevator doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss. You step inside and swipe your ID card against the scanner. The elevator's high-tech screen lights up, displaying a seemingly endless list of floor options. You whistle as you scan the array, finally selecting the tech room.

Just as the elevator begins its ascent, a voice suddenly speaks up, making you jump with a startled yelp.

“Good morning!” the voice says cheerfully. “Welcome to Stark Tower. How can I assist you today?”

You quickly recognize the voice as FRIDAY, the building’s AI system. You’ve read about it in papers and seen it on TV before. The holographic interface on the screen activates, displaying a friendly, animated avatar of FRIDAY. The AI greets you with a warm, digital smile and a cheerful tone.

“Oh. Hi!” you respond, a bit thrown off. “I’m, uh, just heading to the tech room.”

“Understood,” FRIDAY replies smoothly. “I’ve already noted your arrival. The tech room is on your left once you exit the elevator. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can help with, sexiest vigilante.”

You blink at the nickname.

“That’s definitely Morgan’s touch,” you mutter.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing a workshop that looks like it’s been hit by a tornado of technology. Equipment is strewn everywhere, and tangled wires snake across the floor. In the center of the chaos, a few remains of a fire extinguisher lie scattered. Morgan is crouched in the middle of the mess, her hair a wild tangle and her face streaked with grease and soot. She’s working intently, completely absorbed in her task despite the disorder around her.

You clear your throat, and Morgan looks up, freezing mid-action. Part of her shirt is charred, and a small flame flickers from one of the devices she’s holding.

“Let’s be honest,” she says, waving a wrench at you, “you’ve seen me in worse shape.”

Shaking your head, you step into the room.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” you remark, your eyes scanning the cluttered area.

Morgan quickly puts out the fire and brushes a few stray wires out of her path before standing up and stretching with a groan. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. Between the latest tech malfunction and the mini-explosion, it’s been one chaotic circus.”

“Should I even ask what set off the explosion?”

Morgan chuckles dryly, wiping her hands on a grease-stained rag. “Oh, just a little experiment gone wrong. Nothing major. Just some excitement to kick off the day.” She steps over to you, grabs a case from a nearby workbench, and hands it to you with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, as you take the case from her. With a click, you open it to reveal a pair of sleek, high-tech glasses.

Morgan plucks them from the case and holds them up with a grin. “For you. They’re packed with all sorts of features—real-time data, targeting assistance, and even advanced communication options. Basically, they’re your new best friend in the field.”

You slip the glasses on, adjusting them to fit comfortably. The world immediately sharpens, and a translucent display overlays your vision, showing various readouts and notifications. You gasp in awe, your amazement reflected in Morgan’s fond smile as she watches your reaction.

She then moves to grab another device—a metal-looking belt that covers your entire stomach. At its center is a spider emblem. She clasps the belt around your waist and gives it a reassuring pat.

“Tell it to go on,” Morgan instructs.

Confused, you turn to her. “Huh?”

“Just think of a suit wrapping around you and command it to do so.”

You give her a skeptical look but decide to give it a try. Closing your eyes for a moment, you focus on the idea of your suit materializing.

“Activate?”

Immediately, you feel a tingling sensation as nanoparticles begin to stream from the belt, enveloping your body. The sensation is oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a warm, secure embrace. The suit materializes in shimmering panels, stretching and shaping itself around your form. The glasses transform into a sleek helmet, molding to fit your head with a satisfying click.

The entire process takes mere seconds, and when you open your eyes, you’re fully suited up. 

The suit fits perfectly. The color is a deep, vibrant red that covers the majority of the suit. Black accents trace intricate web patterns that start from the center of your chest and radiate outwards.

The chest emblem is a bold, black spider, its legs extending across your torso and seamlessly merging with the web patterns. The helmet, now a sleek, black mask with a smooth, glossy finish, features white eye lenses that glow faintly. The same high-tech display you saw in your glasses is now visible in the helmet.

Morgan grins, clearly pleased with the result. “Not too shabby, right?"

"What. The. Fuck."

 ༻⊰───⋅

[jlheon]

୨ৎ — first date (yjw)

pairing. class prez! yang jungwon x fem! reader synopsis. awkward first date w/ won genre. f2l fluff wc. 1733 notes. ft. minji & riki library.

"i don't know what to wear!" you told minji through your phone. twenty minutes left before jungwon would be there to pick you up and your once clean bedroom looked like the aftermath of a tornado.

last week jungwon confessed to you. well, riki accidentally confessed to you for him.

you had seen riki's messages to jungwon as you played a game on his phone during lunch. all the messages sent consisted of riki teasing him about his crush.

stomach dropping as you thought that your crush could be crushing on that wasn't you. you also felt bad for invading his privacy when you tried to turn the phone off. however, curiosity got the best of you, nearly throwing the phone across the room, until riki said your name.

a sense of relief hit you, letting out a breath you weren't even aware you were holding.

when jungwon returned to the classroom with some drinks from the vending machine you slowly gave his phone back. after he started frantically apologizing you reassured him that you shouldn't have kept reading the texts but glad you did since now you knew the feelings were reciprocated.

you were thankful that you and jungwon always ate alone in the student council room since he had all day access to it being class president. he was also glad that the confession happened privately.

jungwon asked you out on a date and now it was d-day.

unfortunately for you, he hadn't told you where you were going. not even a single hint. so there was no way to know what was appropriate to wear.

"he said comfortable! i'm sure shorts and a t-shirt will be fine!" minji advised, currently doing something on her computer, and barely paying attention to you.

"what if he means comfortable like watching a movie comfortable? what if i’m overdressed or even worse underdressed? what if i get cold-" you rambled, holding up different shirts in the mirror up to your front.

"how about you keep those shorts, the blue crewneck, and wear a cute tank top underneath in case you get hot." minji suggested, eating some chips.

"you're a genius!"

quickly grabbing the items she instructed you to get and throwing them on. afterwards, picking up the mountains of clothes on your floor, folding them, and shoving them back in your drawers.

by the time your room was cleared jungwon's contact appeared on your screen. ending the call with minji after she wished you good luck you rushed downstairs.

jungwon was already standing at your doorstep as you saw from the window. he rang the doorbell and you were quick to open it before your little sister could.

"hey ____," jungwon stood on the porch, coincidentally wearing a blue sweater in a similar shade to yours.

"hi!" your younger sister greeted him before you. "she opened the door before i could!" she whined, crossing her arms.

"i told you don't answer the door to strangers," you patted her head.

"why did you answer the door then? he's not a stranger if you-"

you smiled at jungwon, letting him into the house while ushering your sister to the other room.

"let me just tie my shoes-" you went to sit, reaching down to your feet. 

jungwon didn't say anything before kneeling in front of you and tying the laces of your sneakers up for you. you found yourself flustered, cheeks feeling warm from his gesture.

"oh thanks," you said once he stood back up, reaching a hand out to bring you up off the couch.

"let's go?" he asked, staring down at you.

"yeah," you replied shakily.

it was weird being nervous around jungwon, you had hung out with him alone plenty of times when you didn't know if he liked you back. nonetheless, you let him intertwine your hands and lead you to his car. he opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to get in before shutting it and looping around to get into the driver's seat.

"so where are we going?" you asked, buckling your seatbelt.

"it's a surprise ____," he laughed, starting up the car and driving off.

the car ride was around fifteen minutes. you looked out the window listening to the music jungwon had been playing until you recognized where you were.

the beach.

"why did you let me wear sneakers?" you frowned, looking down at your shoes and thinking about getting sand in your shoes.

"i'm wearing sneakers too," jungwon started, turning into the parking lot. "i brought us slides don't worry."

jungwon parked the car close to where the stand started and exited the car. circling around the front to open your door for you. after helping you out he opened the back of his car to get the said slides and some sand toys.

while he was busy doing that you took off your shoes and left them on the floor of the passenger’s seat. jungwon dropped a pair of his slides that were slightly too big for you in front of you and then you both started walking through the sand.

you followed jungwon as he picked a spot for you guys to sit. he set down a towel big enough for the both of you and patted the spot next to him for you to sit.

"can we make a sand castle?"

"that's why i stole riki's sand toys," jungwon laughed, his dimple becoming more prominent. "don't tell him i told you these were his."

"i wouldn't!" you giggled, poking his dimple.

picking up the medium-sized bucket and shovel you remember that you needed wet sand.

jungwon was a step ahead of you already. he knew how much you hated the feeling of sand sticking to your feet after touching the water so he wordlessly picked up one of the other buckets and strides towards the shore.

"here," he set the water-filled bucket next to you. his sleeves were rolled up and his hands were dripping with ocean water, his veins showing.

you thanked him and got to work, mixing the water into the dry sand in front of you. then packing it into the castle-shaped mold as jungwon watched from beside you.

"you should make your own," you looked over to your date. "i doubt it will be better than mine though!"

"you're on!" jungwon nudged you with his shoulder and started working on his own.

by the time you had both finished you had added some seashells on top of yours while jungwon eventually gave up and started writing random things in the sand.

you excitedly showed him your final work and he swore he could kiss you right then and there.

jungwon snapped a couple of candid photos of you while you were caught up making your sand castle. saving them so he could change his wallpaper to you when he got home.

you asked him if he wanted to look for shells and he accepted.

"won look at this shell!" you held up a small shiny orange shell for him to see. "you can have it." you placed it in his hand.

he took the shell, sliding it into his pocket, then held your hand in his as you continued walking down the beach.

you continued to pick up shells and talk jungwon's ear off. he simply just let you drag him along and keep the shells you liked in his pocket for you.

eventually, you had enough of walking up and down the shore, probably picking up all the shells you stumbled upon you stopped walking, which made jungwon nearly bump into you.

"ew i don't want to go back in the sand," you whined, staring down at how your feet were drenched in the ocean water. the coolness of the water felt nice two minutes ago but now you had to make it back to the blanket feeling the texture of wet sand all over your feet.

"come here," jungwon instructed, removing his hands from his pockets.

"what?" confused, you turned around to face him.

then he suddenly picked you up and started running back to your spot.

"hey put me down!" you lightly hit his chest.

"we both know you would be complaining if you had to step in the sand with wet feet," jungwon set you down on the towel, picking up the toys from earlier and putting them all together before laying down next to you. a somewhat comfortable silence took over you both of you.

"hi," you said as you laid back facing him.

"hi," he stared back at you, his eyes still glued on the sky.

"why are we so awkward," you laughed, thinking about how today lacked all of the normal conversations you had before confessing to each other.

"i don't know about you but i'm nervous," jungwon confessed, turning over to face you.

"i'm only nervous because you've barely said a word to me this whole time," you sighed, staring up at him.

"you look pretty today."

"you're changing the subject-"

"that's why i'm nervous," jungwon rested a hand on yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "we've been friends for so long, and now that we're on a date i'm blanking."

"let's just pretend this is a normal hangout," you suggested, returning to resting flat on your back.

"____, can i kiss you?"

"that's not what you would say at a regular hangout-" you felt your face warm up as you awkwardly scratched your neck.

"yeah because we're on a date," he sat up, waiting for you to mirror him, which you did. "i'm going to ask you again ____, can i kiss you?"

"um," you stared at him like a deer in headlights.

jungwon moved closer to cup one side of your face, noses brushing against each other. his minty breath hit your lips and filled your senses.

"so can i kiss you?" he asked one more time, barely above a whisper.

"yeah," you shakily replied, letting your eyes fall shut.

satisfied with your answer, he finally let his lips collide with yours. kissing you gently for a couple of seconds before pulling away to look at you. he let out a chuckle when your eyes were still tightly shut.

"you can open your eyes now," jungwon brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i knew that!"

jungwon grinned and went back in for another kiss.

[steviesbicrisis]

Steve’s best relationship wasn’t even a relationship. He could barely call it a fling, a flirt. They never even went on a date. They never kissed.

Steve still thinks of it as the best whatever-it-is he has ever had with someone.

At the beginning it was mostly infuriating, how quickly Eddie managed to win the kids over, compared to Steve’s months of work as babysitter/nailbat swinger/monster fighter. Steve had to literally bleed multiple times to get an ounce of respect, Eddie only had to run a nerdy club about fictional bleeding and monster-fighting.

Then somehow, and Steve still has trouble pinpointing when and how it happened, everything changed.

Taking the kids back home from hellfire became something he impatiently waited for.

He and Eddie would barely talk for a few minutes and he would find himself replaying the conversation in his head for days. Anything he could say to get a reaction out of Eddie became fundamental, and if he started by picking subjects to piss him off, he ended learning about Eddie’s favorites, because few minutes after hellfire were never enough and Steve needed Eddie to talk as much as possible, until the kids were begging to drop it and go home.

Steve never questioned the change, most likely out of fear. He doesn’t think he ever was clueless, just really scared about what would potentially mean to be staring at another dude’s eyelashes as he goes on a rant about why Ozzy Osbourne is the best artist of his generation. Or blush whenever said dude would call him “baby”, or ���sweetheart”.

Steve convinced himself that the thing he and Eddie were having was as good as it was going to get, nothing more.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie ran, and Steve realized that the thing will never be enough for him.

He couldn’t not have Eddie. Not watch him as he entertains a bunch of freshmen, as he stomps with his worn out sneakers on top of forniture, as he puts his terrible music on to push away anyone who doesn’t care enough about him to stay.

Steve needed to see Eddie being alive, doing what his heart desires, and he needed to be next to him when he does.

Obviously, this realization came at the worst possible time.

Steve tried to tell him so many times: when they found him at the boathouse, when he was hiding at refer Rick’s house, when they were taking a stroll in the upside down, and even when they were driving a stolen trailer to a gunshop.

But, it seemed, Eddie had come to a realization just as important and he tried his best to avoid Steve at every given chance.

Steve tried to initiate the conversation as Eddie did his best to run away from it. And he ran until Steve had no chances left to tell him how he actually felt.

———

Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say he lost something he never had. To mourn a relationship he never began. A partner that, technically, never became a partner.

After Eddie dies, Steve has no one to be next to but he can’t say he ever did.

Steve just exists waiting. He can’t tell if he’s waiting for the pain to go away or for Eddie to jump out of a bush and yell “ah! I got you sucker!! By the way, I’m in love with you too.”

For obvious reasons, that never happens.

What does happen, is a call.

It’s a normal Tuesday, as normal as you could define it after Hawkins almost collapsed into the upside down. Steve got into a routine, between checking on the ones at the hospital, helping out at the shelter, allowing Robin to check on him to see if he’s still alive.

The call happens while Robin is doing her kitchen check up - aka making sure he has food and that he’s eating it-, so she picks the phone like she did a million times before.

“Harrington residence, this is Robin” she says, cheerfully.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to it as he’s folding his dad’s old clothes that intends to donate to the shelter, until he hears Robin’s loud gasp.

“What is it? Is it the hospital? Is it Max?” He rushes to the other room where Robin is.

She doesn’t answer but she gives him a look as she passes him the receiver.

Steve goes quiet, a million thoughts going through his head as he takes the phone from Robin.

He’s still unprepared when he hears that unmistakable voice “Baby”.

Steve gasps for breath “Eddie?”

Is that really you? What happened? Are you hurt? Isn’t this impossible? Is what goes on in Steve’s head, but he ends up just asking “are you okay?”

He can hear a chuckle, Eddie’s wicked chuckle, a further confirmation that it is him, “I’m- hanging in there… are you okay?”

Steve finds the question absurd. He isn’t the one who got left in the upside down, the one that got eaten by demonic bats, the one who died before Steve had the chance to tell him how he felt.

He answers truthfully nonetheless, “I’m… I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Please Eddie, come quick.”

“I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

[luvzshy]

billie x fem!reader and it’s jst abt the differences between billies masc style and readers girly (coquette?) style! i think opposites attract is such a cute trope 🥹

Harmony

The sun poured through the bedroom windows, casting golden light onto the neatly folded clothes scattered across the floor. Your section of the closet was bursting with floral prints, lace, and pastel-colored dresses, while Billie’s half was lined with oversized streetwear—hoodies, cargo pants, and sneakers.

“Hey, you ready yet?” Billie called from the other side of the room. She was leaning against the doorframe, casually cool with a gray oversized sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and her favorite pair of chunky sneakers. Her eyes, a soft gray-blue, scanned the room before settling on you.

You were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate straps of a light pink satin dress, the ruffles around the neckline hugging your frame in all the right ways. The contrast between you two had always been striking, her leaning into her more masculine style while you embraced your ultra-feminine, coquette vibe. But instead of clashing, it had always just…worked.

“Almost!” you chirped, glancing over your shoulder. “I just need to find my shoes.”

Billie sauntered over to you, her signature smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re already making me look like I just rolled out of bed.” She reached out, pulling gently at the fabric of your dress, her fingers lingering a little longer than necessary. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You giggled, reaching up to playfully nudge her. “You always say that, but I think you look perfect.”

She chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “And I think you look like a dream,” she murmured against your neck, planting a soft kiss there.

The two of you had been together for a while now, and though the world might have seen you as opposites—her with her bold, street-style persona and you with your soft, dainty appearance—it was those differences that made your connection so magnetic. You balanced each other out. She grounded you when you were feeling too anxious, and you lifted her spirits when she needed it most.

“Okay, let’s go,” Billie said, grabbing your hand once you’d finally slipped into your shoes. She led you out to the living room, where your styles meshed together in your shared space—her minimalist furniture paired with your love for fluffy throw pillows and pastel décor.

As you stepped outside, Billie’s hand found its place in yours, her thumb rubbing comforting circles over your skin. The two of you made your way down the street to a small café you both loved, your outfits a reflection of your relationship—opposite in many ways but complementary in all the right places.

“People are totally staring at us,” you whispered, noticing the glances your mismatched styles attracted.

Billie squeezed your hand, a grin lighting up her face. “Let ’em. They’re just jealous of how hot my girl looks.”

You blushed, feeling her lips press a kiss to your temple as she continued walking confidently beside you. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought—Billie Eilish, the effortlessly cool, tomboyish superstar, completely in love with you, her girly, pink-obsessed girlfriend.

And despite the differences, or maybe because of them, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[avaf00rd]

dog park

Leah Williamson x Reader

hope you enjoy!

p.s ACLs don’t exist in this reality

————————————————————————

Thankfully, for the third time this week you were able to let everyone go home early. To go enjoy the ends of their day instead of being stuck in the office.

This also made you quite content cause you were able to go for a walk in the warmer than usual London weather, and take your dog with you. The poor dog that sits around your house all day while you are at work.

You quickly packed up your things and were driving through the city’s peak hour, eager to go home and grab your dog to take him to the dog park before the sun went down.

It took you longer than expected on the road, so you just pulled inside. Staying in your white button up shirt and jeans and grabbed your dog and his leash. You changed into white sneakers that were at your front door and deciding on just driving to take your dog to the park.

You found a little bench as you slightly smiled at the image of your dog running around in front of you. “Yeah go Bub ” you said to your dog at your feet before throwing his tennis ball far.

Before your dog could run and catch it another dog managed to grab it and start running away, your dog chasing after it.

“Sorry” a voice slightly laughed behind you. You turned around to find the most beautiful blonde you had ever seen in your life,

“No they are just playing” you giggled

“Yeah” she said folding her arms and watching the dogs.

“What breed is that?”

“My dog?”

“Yeah” you said

“Oh she’s a cavaliar”

“Cute” you smiled softly, keeping your eyes on both of your dogs playing together

“I’m just gonna guess you have a retriever there” she nodded towards your big blonde dog running around

“Uh yeah thats Molly”

“Aw. I’m jealous”

“Why” you laughed turning to her. She shuffled up to stand next to you instead of slightly behind you

“Cause she’s a golden retriever. A dream dog mate”

“Yours is adorable stop. What’s her name?” You smiled at the blonde next to you

The girl didn’t speak for a moment. Eyes fixated on your face for longer than she thought. “Oh Bella”

“I love her” you said in awe as you noticed her running towards you guys, then running up to you before you crouched down to her level. “Hi Bella” you said in your annoying dog voice. Your dog immediately attacking Bella’s owner now.

You both got up and dusted the shed fur off your clothes. “I’m Leah” she said smiling after folding her arms again to keep warm.

“I’m y/n” you grinned and nodded back

“Beautiful to meet you y/n, hey what’s the time actually?” She said motioning to the watch on your wrist.

“Uh five to five”

“Shit how is it five already. I have to be somewhere soon and I have to walk. Bella come girl!” She said quickly pulling Bella’s leash out of her back pocket and clipping it on the small dog

“Nice to meet you” you said and smiled as she got up to leave

“You too! Hey you come often?” She slightly yelled, because she had started to quickly walk out of the park to be at her plans tonight.

“Yeah most Afternoons” you smiled

“I’ll see you around” she grinned before turning around and starting to Jog with Bella beside her. You smiled to yourself. Leah was a very pretty girl.

“Come on Molly” you yelled before your dog heard the sound of her name and sped up towards you.

—————————————————

It was a Saturday which meant, you hadn’t been to the office thankfully, you knew you would have to do some small things for your company tonight. But you were now enjoying your weekend, alone in your home.

You were in your car on the way back from the mall, after treating yourself to a few new things. The London traffic continued to piss you off even when you weren’t working that day. After being stuck in a line of cars, you banged your forehead on the steering wheel with a groan.

When you got home it was slightly later in the afternoon than you had hoped. But you decided it wasn’t going to stop you from doing the walk to the dog park instead of driving.

Opening the gate to the dog area, you took off Molly’s Leash to go find other dogs while you slowly walked around the park. When you sat down on a bench, an older man who you found quite adorable made conversation about how beautiful your dog was, a conversation which you happily carried on.

While talking, you noticed your Molly playing with a familiar dog, the chocolate coloured dog that happens to belong to the beautiful blonde you met here two days ago.

After the older man next to you finished his next sentence. You quickly exused yourself saying you needed to check something on your dog, which sounded plainly stupid.

You wouldn’t lie if you said you felt bad about leaving the man to sit by himself, but you also wouldn’t be lying if you said you were eager to come across Leah.

You found a girl with a ponytail and matching blue sweats, hunched over her phone sitting at a bench.

“Do you also come often” you said walking up to her, probably seeming like a creep, you feared.

“Oh hello you” she said shutting of her phone, her charming words making your heart want to melt.

“I saw Bella and wondered if Leah would be here” the fact you remembered even her dogs name and her name from two days ago, made her face warm up.

“They are both here” she smiled up at you, “wanna sit?” She asked motioning the spot on the bench next to her.

“How close do you live to here?” You asked, again trying not to sound weird.

“Ugh I walk and that’s about 10 minutes. It’s up that way” Leah said pointing to the streets to the left of the park. “What about you?”

“20 minute walk. Same way” you smiled, motioning towards the same direction Leah pointed to a moment ago. You sat in silence for another moment, watching your dogs become actual good friends. “So Leah what do you do?”

Inside, she hated being asked that question sometimes, just when it was someone she found quite intriguing and beautiful. “Um I’m a footballer”

“No way. What club?” You said now facing her, now extremely interested in the girl

“Um Arsenal” she said slightly laughing, in her head she didn’t know why she did that and suddenly got nervous.

“Are you pissing me?” You asked, quite shocked that she just mentioned that she played for the club you had been passionate about since you were born.

“Nope” she blushed “I play for the women’s team there, WSL”

“No way!” You said excitedly “do you play for England?” You asked

“Yeah I captain the women’s team there too” she smiled at you charmingly. You did not expect her to say yes to your question.

“Huh!” You exclaimed, understanding what she was saying. Just so shocked.

“I don’t know if I should feel happy or like not” she laughed at your reactions, furrowing her eyebrows.

“No happy duh! I love football, only played when I was young but like Leah that’s like wow”

“That’s great-“

“Shit you won the euros!” Now remembering hearing about the Lionesses. You knew who the team was, of course you did. You didn’t know the players though.

“Yeah we did” she grinned, very wide.

“Sorry I knew who the Lionesses were I swear. And the Arsenal Women. I just didn’t know anyone on the teams. Sorry that’s not very feminist of me, I should know” you said quickly, making Leah laugh. The wife smile not leaving her face.

“It’s not your fault. More people should know about women’s football”

“I agree. And It starts with me and watching the games” you said as you both laughed.

“And what do you do” she said lightly tapping your shoulder, the tingle it sent through your body not leaving for a while.

“Umm Im a CEO of my architecture company” you said, eyes now on the dogs far from both of you

“Dang woman, that sounds big. Your successful it seems” she said smiling, eyes and body facing you on the bench as you nervously kept yourself fixated on what’s in front.

“Coming from the England Captain”

Your own success did make you proud of yourself you won’t lie, and like Leah, you liked telling people what you do. But sometimes got strangely nervous, especially around beautiful girls.

You pair didn’t realise how long you had actually been sitting on the bench talking about anything and everything. “I should go and see what I’ll do about my dinner” Leah huffed slowly getting up.

Leah wanted to ask for your number. She really did.

But as usual got way too nervous.

“Yeah I’ll head off too” you smiled at the slightly taller girl.

“Hey you all good to walk back? I drove so I could always drop you home or something” Leah asked before wanting to slap herself at her probably stupid words

“Oh no I should walk back I’ll be ok. Thank you Leah” you said sweetly.

Leah was kicking herself. She immediately felt you thought she was just trying to flirt with you the whole afternoon. Which she wasn’t…trying to.

When you got home 20 minutes later, you quickly showered before heating up left overs from last nights meal. You sat down on your couch, Love Island UK on the tv in front of you as well as your MacBook, hopping on the internet to find out some more about Leah’s teams. You wouldn’t search up the girl directly, you found that weird and creepy.

Plus, you would much rather hear all about her from Leah herself.

—————

You finished work later than you had hoped one night. But still remember you promised to go for late-night ice cream with your best friend Stella. Once you got home and changed into something much more comfy and warmer than your blazer and suit pants.

“One scoop Chocolate please” you smiled at the teenage boy serving Stella and you.

“Cup?”

“Erm cone please” you said politely. After he handed you the desert and you paid, you waited for Stella to order her’s when a group of women walked in. All in matching red hoodies.

Leah’s eyes immediately fell onto your side profile that hadn’t turned to her and her friends just yet, her heart warmed slightly when she realised it was you, the girl from the dog park, the one she blushed to her teammates about.

After you had noticed the group of girls, all walking in laughing from something an Irish girl was going on about. Your eyes finally fell on the certain England Captain. You smiled and shyly waved at her.

She waved back before one of her friends pulled her to choose flavours.

You folded your arms in warmth as you and Stella walked out of the small store, taking a seat at the tables outside.

“Sorry I didn’t fully see. But did you just wave at the girls in the Arsenal hoodies?” Stella asked curiously

“Um yeah I know one of them, Leah”

“You know who sorry-“

“Leah Williamson” you smiled as you played with the spoon in your hand

“Fucking Leah Williamson?!” she clarifies, showing on her face her shocked expression.

“Yes I see her when I take Molly to the park. She’s great to talk to actually” you said before your spoonful of ice cream back in your mouth.

“Please get with her” Stella mumbled

“What” you said

“I’m joking. But she’s really really pretty. Get to know her. She also you know like won the euros, plays for Arsenal and is huge. Do you even know these things?”

“I’ve seen her four times in my whole life firstly. And Yes I do-“ you said before the bell of the shop’s door rang as Leah and her friends piled out of the store. She stopped where you were sitting whilst her friends found a table.

“Hello you again” she said smiling warmly down at you

“Hi. Guess we do live pretty close” you slightly laughed

“Yes we do. How you been?” She asks you

“I’ve been great. How are you doing? Are they teammates?” You asked motioning to the group of girls, most of them smiling at your interactions. Which you quickly shied away from them.

“I’ve been great. We actually just played a game, was a friendly though so pretty chill. And yes they are my teammates” she grinned raising her eyebrows

“How’d you guys go”

“Three, Nil”

“Leah that’s awesome!” You said tapping her hand in excitement that was resting on the back of your chair.

“Thanks” she smiled shrugging her shoulders, nervously. “Hi I’m Leah” Leah said dipping her head slightly at a stunned Stella behind you.

“Hi, I’m Stella” she waved

“Lovely to meet you” she smiled before her eyes were brought back to you.

“Your ice cream might melt. I’ll let you go” you said nodding to her friends at another table

“Thanks but Hey it’s weird but could I get your number in my phone? Just so like I know when you’ll be at the park and-“ she started to ramble.

“Yes of course” you smiled up at her before she gladly pulled out her phone and unlocked it so you could type in your number.

“See you around” she said happily before heading back to her friends.

“Yeah Williamson!” Katie said pulling the blonde down roughly to sit on the chair, too loud for Leah’s embarrassment.

“That was adorable” Caitlin said calmly

“Smooth one you are” Beth said, all eyes now on you talking to Stella from across the outdoor area of tables.

“I wouldn’t call it that smooth. ‘Just so I know when you’ll be at the park’” Katie laughed, mimicking when Leah tried to get your number.

“Shut up and eat that before it goes down your jumper” Leah said motioning to Katie’s melted ice cream she was eating.

————————————————————————

Y/n

I’m hoping this is Leah

Leah

this is she

hey

Y/n

Hope your in the squad for

tomorrows game as Stella

bought us tickets to come watch

x

Leah

ACTUALLY?!

I mean no way yes yay

that’s so exciting. Better

make sure I’m on that

pitch hey

Y/n

Better

Gotta see the Arsenal

women doing their thing

Leah

Doing their thing?

Y/n

Leah idek

Leah

Well I’m glad your

gonna be there

Y/n

me too x

Leah

x

you smiled at your phone at the sweet texts. Now genuinely getting really excited for the game tomorrow

————————————-

“Come on. You look beautiful I promise let’s just go please” you begged as Stella finished up the light waves in her hair

“Why thank you” she grinned, not hurrying up

“Girl I’m literally gonna leave my house, lock it up, and drive to the emirates without you” you said as you walked back up to your room so you could grab your bag. Stella stayed over last night and stayed in the guest house next to your pool, you found her slowly getting ready in there.

“Ok im ready how do i look” she said meeting you at the front door, shoes in hand and bag across her body.

“Fine”

“Bitch”

“I’m joking you look beautiful. It’s just football though. Now what about me I don’t want to have to ask Stella” you said as you locked your door behind you.

“Stunning for the Ms Williamson” she said, dragging out the Blonde you were talking to’s last name.

You lightly laughed before you both got into your blue Mercedes and drove to the emirates.

When arrived, you offered to grab you and Stella a drink while she found your seats. She texted you were to walk to after you had grabbed the drinks.

“So” Stella pipped up slightly as you handed her a drink before sitting down

“So?”

“So Leah was just warming up. They’ve gone into the changing rooms again now, but she looked straight over here and was defieblty looking for someone. Hm” Stella said curiously

“Wonder who she’s looking for then” you said shrugging and smiling

“Duh it’s you”

“I highly doubt that Leah Williamson was looking for me in the crowd”

“I just want to know how she knew where to look in the first place”

“We were talking last night”

“You called her!” Stella shrieked

“No no just told her I was coming to the game and stuff”

“Oh my I am so happy for you”

“Nothing is happening. Also I forgot to tell you but she offered to get us better seats, but I felt bad”

“Why did you decline-“

“It just felt…I don’t know, but beautiful you got us brilliant seats!” You said grinning as you pulled your best friend into your side

“Yeah yeah but Leah Williamson provided seats would’ve been a preference”

You both watched as Leah and her team piled out in a line from the tunnel before lining back up again on the pitch.

-Leah’s POV-

I scanned the audience once again. In hope for y/n. My eyes fell on my excited mum before I smiled and waved at her.

Quickly falling off that track as my eyes found the beaming Brunette in the audience, she laughed loudly as her friend, Stella, I think I remember, whispered something in her ear.

In that moment in felt like the rest of the crowd was muted and I could make out only the sound of her laugh, from when I made her laugh multiple times at the park.

Yeah I did that

Both Stella and y/n eyes drifted to me and the girls after their giggles died down nd y/n finally found me.

Her cheeks fell a light shade of pink, as I felt mine turn crimson. She waved sweetly with the hand that laid in her lap. I waved shortly back as we both just chuckled for no reason, I didn’t know why I always caught myself doing that around her, even now when she was so far away from me.

She held up a red sign, those 50p posters you can buy from the Gunnersaurus at the front of the stadium ‘Come on you Gunners!’ Was read on the red cardboard as she waved it for me.

I laughed at her actions before she quickly put it back in her lap and laughed nervously to the girl next to her.

“Head in the game ya lover girl” Vic whispered in my ear from next to me, before we prepared to take our spots on the field.

-end of POV-

—————

After only 8 minutes of the girls playing against the rival club, Chelsea. Beth Mead slotted the ball past the goal keeper, erupting you and the other supporters around you into cheers.

‘Meado’s on Fire! Your Defense is terrified! Meados on Fire! Na na na…’

Stella informed you that it was in fact Beth Mead’s chant that was being sung loudly around you two. Stella tried to join in as you just laughed at your surroundings.

By the final whistle, another three goals made it into the net and you stood up and cheered loudly at the victory over Chelsea. Stella and you stood up and cheered for a little longer, before everyone started to leave so you started to gather your cups to throw in the bin and put your bag on your shoulder.

“Oh my y/n” Stella said as she waved at the field. Leah was waving to the two of you as she slowly walked over, Stella pulled you down with her to the bottom row of seats.

“Didn’t think I’d spot you” Leah laughed

“I think you’re spotting me all around London” you said making all three of you laugh

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh yes! Great job out there you played amazing” you exclaimed

“Thank you” Leah said leaning back with her hands on the barricade bar as she blushed.

“Okay well I’ll let you get back with your team” you smiled wide at the blonde below you

“Okay I’ll see you later” she smiled hoping she would see you again in the next few days. As she watched you walk off, she felt she missed something. “Actually y/n” Leah yelled your way while you were walking away, you very quickly spun around and walked back down to Leah as Stella kept on walking up the stadium

“Yeah” you said shyly as Leah just threw her head down, shaking her head with a laugh, “what?” You said confused as you laughed with her slightly

“What are you doing tonight?” She asked. It was only just after 4 o’clock.

“Umm no plans” you smiled

“Can I ask if you want to go for dinner with me? I totally totally understand-“

“Yes Leah yes I will of course” you said quick

“Really?” She said, she looked up at you with the smile of curiosity like a 3 year old. You just nodded fast.

“Okay well now I should definitely get back in. But I’ll text you when I get in there. I’ll pick you up yeah” Leah said as you both took a glance at her teammates that were giggling at your interaction for the second time. You smiled at the girls as they waved excitedly at you, ‘the girl’ Leah was talking about in trainings, not to your knowledge.

Leah knew she probably should’ve asked if you wanted to meet some of them. But she was still slightly frozen in her words. “Okay then I’ll see you tonight then Leah” you said to the blonde

“Bye” she smiled before you both parted ways

“And she’s bagged the chick!” Kyra says jumping on Leah’s back as she walks back to her teammates.

“Oi” Leah says shrugging her off

“Seriously though, did you ask her out?” Caitlin says with a laugh, in hope she asked this time

“Yes I did. Count me out of team dinner tonight!” Leah said before walking into the tunnel to the changing rooms

————————

“I can’t believe you. Your so powerful” your best friend said as she stood in the door Frame of your bathroom, while you straightened out the waves in your hair from the plat you wore to the game

“Uh powerful?” You said furrowing your eyebrows, eyes kept on the hot hair tool in your hand

“You’re about to go out with Leah Williamson, who you casually met at a scrappy dog park a week and half ago”

Usually you would rebuttal her, you didn’t see this as powerful in any way, but you were happy to be going on a date with the girl. She seemed so genuine to you when you talked and you really appreciated that about her personality.

Well you weren’t even 100% sure if it was an offical date.

You walked into your living room with your outfit on, a short white skirt with a matching top as a set, with a navy blazer. “Terribly cute or terrible?” You asked your best friend sprawled out on your couch.

“Holy shit you look angelic”

“Thank you. So definitely this?” You asked again

“Do not take it off” she said settling it back into the couch, approving of your outfit, “only Leah will do that tonight” she mumbled the last bit.

“Oi I heard that” you said shooting your head out from the hallway as you went to grab some things from your room.

“Also when I go, feel free to stay”

“No I’ll let you have your house back to yourself I’ve overstayed my visit” she said smiling “plus if you two want to come back here it’s better if I’m not here feel me?” She winked

“You could never ever overstay. And it’s just a dinner nothing is going to happen, I think” you said hugging her from behind the couch. Before you felt a vibration in the bag on your shoulder, “okay Leah is here wish me luck S” you said pecking her cheek

“Have the best time. Please text me. I can pick you up in an instant if it goes horribly. Also I’ll leave ur place In a minute and lock up” she reassured as you made your way to your door

“Don’t worry about me or hassling to leave. Just lock my door if you do. Bye” you said before blowing her a kiss

You heard Leah’s car engine outside your driveway gate, so you opened it up before walking to her car which was parked closer to your neighbours house.

She looked up from her lap in the car, to see you waking to her car. She seemed to panic and quickly got out of the car.

“Whoops Thought you lived there” she said pointing to the house next to you.

“Nope wrong house” you said as you finally reached the blonde

“Hey” she smiled softly, tilting her head to the side a tad. Before you hugged her, which she didn’t think you would do straight away, but she immediately hugged you back.

“Hi Leah” you said after pulling away. “You look stunning” you said looking at her outfit

“Coming from you gorgeous, Jesus I’m flattered” she said making you chuckle slightly. “You look incredible. You ready?” She asked before you nodded and she opened the car door for you.

“Too kind.” You said up at her before she gently shut the door. Your palms started to sweat, as you quickly brushed them on your skirt. Leah was making you extra nervous in her tight long sleeve black top and cream-coloured skirt that fitted her perfectly.

“Want to know where I’m taking you?” she asked after she started her car.

“Obviously”

“It’s an underground restaurant my brother recommended to me. Sounds dodgy I know, but it’s quite nice actually. He went there for his birthday with my dad and they said it was amazing”

“Sounds Perfect” you said

“Really?”

“Yes really. I think I know which one your talking about, saw it on instagram I think”

————-

Leah ordered a bottle of red wine for the table, which you thanked her for. You sat in the lovely restaurant talking for what felt like an hour, before you decided it was best to probably order food.

When both your meal’s came, you thanked the waiter before you both quickly dug in.

“I should have gotten that” you said Ponting to Leah’s dish with your fork. Which was a nervous mistake.

“Why” Leah chuckled slightly

“Looks amazing”

“We can swap I don’t mind-“

“No no no gosh that’s how it sounded I know, but I’m just saying yours looks good. I’m more than happy with mine promise”

“Well then your trying some”

“No it’s okay you dig in” you said

“Go on” she said pushing her plate slightly towards you

“No Leah I’m okay seriously”

“Y/n put some of the food your fork” Leah said raising her eyebrows and using a sterner and lower voice, before you quickly poked the utensil into a small bite of her food “stop being so nice to me” she added

“You happy?” You said with a slight smile as Leah nodded, “now you” you said pushing your plate towards the blonde

“Happily” she shrugged before collecting a mouthful of your meal on her fork.

“Okay now that I have ranted about mine. Tell me about your family” you said

“ okay well I’m grateful that most of my family lives here, but my brother moved to Australia a bit ago” Leah said

“Oh wow I love Australia”

“You do?” Leah asked before bringing her fork to her mouth

“Yeah I went on exchange there in Highschool. My dream was to move there but I started my career here and stayed. What about your mum? I noticed you talking to her at the game before you saw me today ”

“At the game? Trust me I saw you the minute I walked out for warm up”

“You did?” You asked, eyes slightly in awe.

Leah’s reaction was a wave of blush to her checks and a massive shrug that brought all the way up to her face, smile wide as ever.

“Well anyways your mum looks lovely” you said

“Yeah she is lovely, she is” Leah laughed before going on about her mother , her laugh causing you to do the same and smile. The girl’s laugh very quickly became contagious to you. Her smile was bright and genuine.

—————

You were at the restaurant for too long. According to the waiter. So when the waitress handed you the bill, he placed it in front of Leah, which you quickly pulled away towards you and placed your card inside and then handing it back to waiter.

After he walked away Leah whined “no no no I was supposed to pay that was the plan”

“Yeah well my plan was to pay also and look who won” you said with a shit eating grin, placing your chin on your fists, amusement covered your face at Leah’s dismay.

“Thank you” you and Leah smiled to the front waitress before she opened the door for you.

The London air was colder outside as you threw the blazer back onto yourself again. “Ice cream?” You said Pointing to the ice cream place situated across the street from where you were

“Obviously” Leah quickly said before throwing her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as you both walked.

—————

“I’d thank our dogs for this date” Leah said as you’d finally found a cute bench near a park to sit down while the eating your ice creams.

“It’s a date?”

“I mean…” Leah said. She was right.

“Just kidding. Of course it is. And I thank your dog”

“Why” Leah laughed

“Molly doesn’t like making friends. When I take her to the dog park, she walks around and sniffs weeds by herself, then she takes a shit before she runs back to me signalling she’s ready to get in the car”

“Little princess huh” Leah laughed“does she get that from you?”

“First off, I wouldn’t call that princess behaviour at all. Two, no Leah my dog is not like me” you said with a hum.

After a little longer, You got back to Leah’s car and she was dropping you off.

She went on slightly a bit about her interest in Country music, which you complimented her on as soon as a Luke Combs song came up in the car. “I actually went to his concert” Leah said from the seat next to you as she drove

“No way me too” you exclaimed turning to the girl

“Really? it was awesome ay”

“Yeah it was” you smiled.

After a significantly fast but enjoyable 15 minutes, Leah’s car had reached your house. It started raining on the drive and it hadn’t yet stopped “um where should I stop?” Leah asked looking around the front of your house from her car

“Since it’s raining do you mind if you drive in a bit. After this gate there is a bit of a drive way which takes me a few minutes to walk”

“Yeah no of course” Leah assured you

“Perfect thank you” you smiled before pointing to Leah where to stop the car while you told Leah the code to punch in at the gate that only she could do from her side of the car. The gates slowly opened as Leah drove up. You both got out of her car and ran to your front porch, both soaking wet, causing both of you to laugh.

“Holy shit I love your place” Leah admired the exterior

“Thank you Leah” you smiled

“How long have you lived here?”

“I’ve had this place for 4 years but I knocked it down 3 years ago completely rebuilt”

“Designed by you I’m guessing?” She asked

“Yes”

“I love”

You stood in silence for a quick second before Leah spoke up again “c’mon I’ll walk you to the door”

You both prepared yourself for the rain again when you pulled Leah’s hand and ran with her to your front door, back to some cover. Once you got to the door and you let go of her hand, it took Leah slightly longer to let go. “Thanks for tonight. I had the best time I have had in a while” you smiled softly, your dimples showing significantly, which made Leah want to melt into a puddle with the rain right there and then.

“Me too. And I’m glad you had a great time” she smiled.

“I’d love to do it again soon”

“As soon as we possible can?” Leah asked

“Yeah why not” you shrugged playfully

“Okay well I’ll let you get some sleep” Leah said softly before she hugged you tightly.

“Thanks again. Next time I’ll take you somewhere, so check ur texts”

“Wouldn’t miss it” the blonde smiled

“And I’ll be at your next game” you winked at her

“That means a lot to me. And good luck with your work thingo tomorrow. Smash it for me”

“Will do Williamson. Goodnight” you said with a warm smile once again

“Night y/n” Leah said before spinning around to her car and you unlocked your door to your house. “Text me when you get home safely-“ you yelled out to her, back to her car still as you were opening your door. You didn’t notice her grab the end of your hand from behind you and spin you towards her quickly as she kissed you.

The kiss made your head spin wild. You hadn’t been kissed in forever.

Well, Lie, you kissed a rando at a bar for a few seconds last week while you were drunk. But it was besides the point and didn’t count.

You quickly kissed Leah back. The feeling of her lips finally reaching yours was euphoric to you. When she slowly pulled away, you both blushed while looking into each other’s eyes.

Eye contact. Something the English captain did all too well.

“Sorry I don’t usually do that on a first date” Leah breathed out quietly before you gently grabbed her cheek and kissed her again for a captured second.

“Neither. Felt right to me though. Thank you again Leah”

“No thank you y/n. I’ll actually let you go now. I’ll text you when I get home” she smiled at you

“You better” you said to her as you watched her walk to the car from your front door. You waved to her car sweetly, before heading inside and shutting your door. You jumped on the spot for a moment, like a small girl. As you walked to the kitchen so you could call your best friend, biting your lip with a cheesy grin on your face.

—————

It had been two months of seeing Leah. Whether it was after the four games you had been to since your first, planned visits at the dog park, at each others houses or cute low-key dates.

No labels yet.

You and Leah connected so beautifully fast, that it just felt a tiny bit too soon to put a label on anything. You both, for now, just enjoyed each other company. Sharing a few kisses everyone now and then. That’s all.

—————

Y/n

Get Bella’s leesh on and grab a jumper we are all going to dog park

Leah

Hello y/n

Y/n

Yes hi love

I’ll be there in like 5 minutes

Leah

It’s raining look out the window

And it has been all day

Y/n

My point exactly.

And We can just sit under the covered bench

imagine how much fun the girls would have playing the rain!

Leah

Uhh

Y/n

Please!

Leah

Okay we are ready. Text me when you are here

You arrived at Leah’s house as she jumped in the front and put Bella in the back with your dog. “Hi” she pecked your lips as you drove off

“Hello”

“If we get ill from the weather i won’t hesitate to tell my coach it was your fault”

“You wouldn’t. And no we won’t get ill now come on” you said as you parked near the park and grabbed your umbrella to share.

Leah grabbed the umbrella from your hands as she was slightly taller, before she put it up and you both walked together. You ended up just doing a walk around the park together a few times while your dogs ran free.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the rain. Just like you were a little girl again, playing in your raincoat in classic English style. You didn’t know that Leah also found it enjoyable. “C’mon you know you want to” Leah giggled as she put down the umbrella. Completely exposing both of you to the pouring water. She pulled your hand as you ran with her in the rain.

You couldn’t stop laughing from happiness that when you both stopped running you both had to bend over and rest your hands on your knees. You stood up straight and pulled Leah up before pulling her into a passionate and long lasting kiss.

Your hands wrapped onto her neck as she dipped you slightly, causing you to squeal. She laughed at your own laugh as her hands wrapped around your waist before you jumped up into her arms, after the tap signal on your thigh from Leah.

“This is my rom com moment!” You laughed loudly as Leah agreed

“Will you be my girlfriend” Leah smiled at you up in her arms

“Huh!” You said over the loud rain surrounding you

“Will you be my girlfriend!” She said louder

“Girlfriend?” You clarified. She nodded fast. You just pulled her in for another passionate kiss. “Of course I will Leah” you said as she spun you both around before your lips met once again.

————————————

might be one of my favs

Hope you enjoyed love u💓

[m-artsoul]

29/07/24

shoelaces (for my unfinished fic)

A fragment of the story:

Kei reached for his bag. He frowned as the zipper kept slipping from his fingers. Looking at his hand, he saw it trembled slightly. Only then did he note the pulsing sensation spreading all across it. During the match the adrenaline and time constraints kept his head busy enough to ignore it all. At that moment, however, it all came crashing down tenfold.

He took a deep breath, trying to tune out the dull throb and used his left hand instead. Perhaps his movements weren't as fluid, but he did manage to take out his clothes without much trouble. He blinked a few times, blurriness tugging on the edge of his vision. It must have been the warm lighting in the room, bouncing off of his glasses. He took a seat on the bench next to him, abandoning the fabrics in his hand and toed off his sneakers. Even his feet felt tingly, reminding him of all the jumps and running. It was troublesome, exhausting, yet exhilarating.

The black knee pads slid with great uncooperativeness off of his legs, almost dragging his socks with them. Other parts of his wardrobe also were misbehaving. When he tried putting his shoes back on, they were unrelenting. Their backs folded under him, not letting his feet move further in. As he glared down at the spiteful objects, a couple of different sneakers came into his view.

Tadashi bent his knees before him and before Kei could object, his right foot was being lifted. Without hesitation, Tadashi's hands and fingers moved swiftly, pushing the shoe until it sat comfortably around his heel and then tying its laces. Few people were watching the duo curiously and with bemusement.

“Yama–”

“You can barely hold anything, just let me do this,” interjected Tadashi.

Kei could feel the stares, boring holes into his skin, hear the amused snickers, but all he could focus on was Tadashi, his gentle, caring hands and his calm yet authoritative tone. The blond released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and tried to steady his heart, which was pounding to the rhythm of The Beginning. The chosen song stuck to his brain like glue, as he idly heard Tadashi singing it obnoxiously in the middle of their movie night. There was no reason for it or if there was, Kei couldn’t remember it. All he could recall was the giddiness that rocked his body, when his friend jumped onto his bed, extending his arms towards him, hurrying him up with the words of the song, “Stand up, stand up!”

Warmth crawled up onto his face, muting the logical thinking. There was something so intimate and personal, and nice in the simple gesture as tying someone else’s shoes. The pleasant feeling only strengthened, when brown eyes full of trust and admiration looked up and met a wide stare. Kei thought he’s gonna choke on the amount of emotions that flew through his body. Perhaps for the first time or maybe for the 100th, he wanted to kiss Tadashi so badly, he thought his insides would explode. His lips itched to be put against his ones. No part of him cared if they were chipped or thin or if his breath wasn’t smelling of roses, or if their teeth would clank against each other leaving them in pain.

Details:

[killerlookz]

50/ 46/ 62 <3

thank you for the ask <33 | if you'd like to participate in the heartbeat! au OTP ask game, the full prompt is here

46. what is their favorite intimately sexual thing to do to their partner? 50. what is their favorite position with their partner? 62. who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to put some clothes on?

pairing: heartbeat! reader x heartbeat! joost content: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (f! receiving), penetrative sex, angst mentions, not proofread

explicit RPF below! please do not interact if that makes you uncomfortable !!! 18+ MDNI

46. what is their favorite intimately sexual thing to do to their partner?

Joost's favorite thing to do is eat you out, hands down. You're stressed? He'll eat you out so you can relax. You're mad at him? Let him eat you out to show how sorry he is. You can't sleep? He'll eat you out to put you in that perfect blissful state so you can just fall right to sleep. He's just got back from tour? He's eating you out because he missed how you taste.

Truthfully, you hadn't expected him to be so into giving you head, and you much more expected for him to prefer it the other way around. When you first met- with his fluffy hair, ill fitted skinny jeans, and Supreme shirt you thought you had figured out his type, hype beast, fuck boy, who idolized american soundcloud rappers, thinking he was hot shit in his fake designer belts and unnecessarily expensive sneakers. The type of guy who fucked for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone.

How completely and utterly wrong you were. Joost had charmed you enough to let him take you out on a first date, so charming in fact, you'd end up "giving it up" on that first date. You hadn't expected to, but you couldn't resist him. You'd gone back to his place for some after dinner drinks, one thing led to another and you found yourself in his lap, lips pressed together, hungry. Until that point you had never had a make out session so intense, hands roaming each other wildly, unable to get enough of one another. Without a doubt, Joost had noticed the way you pressed your hips into his, with your skirt bunched up around your thighs, all that separated you from Joost were your panties, which had been, embarrassingly soaked for having only been making out. You were barely cognizant of the way you begged for friction against the seam of Joost's jeans, the fabric growing stiff under Joost's own rising arousal. Both of you were desperate for more, and Joost was ready to make the first move.

Joost pulled back from the kiss, lips shiny and swollen, lightly ghosting over yours as he speaks,

"Will you let me eat your pussy, schatje?" So forward. His voice is just barely above a whisper, but it's enough to hear the pure yearning he speaks with.

"Huh?" You hadn't dated around too much before Joost, but never had a man asked to eat you out on the first date, needless to say you were a little taken back.

"You can say no but-"

"Please." You cut him off ready to fully give into him.

Very soon after that Joost had been on his knees on the hardwood in front of you, head between your thighs, with your legs wrapped around his shoulders as you sit half off the couch. One hand is at your waist and with the other he uses his fingers to spread apart your folds as he laps at your cunt.

Joost was beside himself, musing with gentle mumbles about how good you tasted, about how he'd never be able to get enough of this-enough of you, his low voice sending vibrations right through your sensitive nerves.

And Joost was right, he would never get enough of you.

Post breakup, Joost doesn't eat you out as much as he'd like to, he worries its to intimate and it is.

But there are always those nights between you where it hits you just how profound your emotions towards each other are, how deeply and utterly in love you still are- and those nights Joost will find himself with his head between your thighs again.

50. what is their favorite position with their partner?

Without a DOUBT it's missionary. Call it boring, call it vanilla whatever. You two love fucking in missionary.

At first it's loving, neither of you wanting to take your eyes off each other. Joost will carry you to the bedroom, carefully placing you on the bed, hovering over you as the two of you make every soft and love felt move towards getting it on. The position allows for you to be so close to each other, Joost usually opting to fold over as much as he can, so his chest is nearly pressed against yours, his breath hot on your face and neck. Occasionally he'll pull back, watching you under him, the way your face writhes with pleasure, and you desperately grip the sheets below you. And - well, he loves watching the way your tits bounce while he fucks into you.

As your relationship progresses and tensions rise, and eventually you two break up- missionary becomes a way for you to get in one another's face while you inevitably end up "hate fucking" during an argument. Angry sex includes a lot of mocking and taunting, looking each other in the eyes, face to face as jaws clench between harsh words spat at one another. Neither of you relenting or willing to admit you're wrong. You try to remember whatever it is you're arguing about while Joost slams into you at a near brutal pace, your fingers ripping into his shoulders, sure to leave some marks for the next few days.

One of you will end up shutting the other one up with a fierce kiss, unable to stand the sound of their voice nagging and bickering any longer, wanting nothing more than to just reach your orgasm. And you will. Joost collapsing on top of you, a thick tension still lingering in the air. Aftercare is non-existent on some of those nights, the persistent anger having been unresolved by sex, leading to you wanting nothing to do with each other.

Other times, Joost will gently pull out of you, wordlessly making his way to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth before coming back to clean you up. You'll only share a few words for the rest of the night, maybe a quiet "I'm sorry" if you're lucky- but nobody needs to say it, you can feel it, the regret that fills the room, its almost suffocating. After he cleans you up Joost will join you back on the bed, pulling you to his chest, your naked bodies intertwine. He'll press a few kisses to your forehead, and you'll mumble your "I love you's" before falling asleep, hoping for a better day tomorrow.

62. who likes to walk around the house naked and who tells the other to put some clothes on?

Reader. But truthfully neither of you wear much clothes while you're together. It's not uncommon for the two of you to spend the entire day together at home only in your underwear, being skin to skin just feels better anyways.

But in terms of actual nudity, yes, reader. Joost prefers to not be completely naked, sometimes even during sex, occasionally opting to just pull his underwear down to his thighs instead of taking them off entirely.

If you've fallen asleep after having sex, and find yourself still naked in the morning, you won't bother to find something to put on before getting up to go run and grab a cup of water in the kitchen.

Or after a shower when you don't feel like getting ready right away you'll lounge around on your phone in bed, sometimes only in your towel, sometimes in nothing at all.

Joost will jokingly chastise you for constantly being naked or minimally clothed while the two of you are together, but he never actually means it. Obviously. He's obsessed with the way you look, clothed, or unclothed, and I mean- completely enamored. And he won't ever try to hide in, shamelessly staring at you, wherever and whenever he pleases, unable to fathom you're his.

Or post break up... deeply deeply regretting you're no longer his. Sometimes he'll remember that Michael has seen you like this too, filling his body with a hot pang of jealousy. He wishes he could be the only one to witness you in such a state, but he know's he's fucked that chance up.

[lovebugism]

How about "89. I’m drunk and fall asleep in a snow bank and you’re the kind stranger yanking me to my feet and lecturing me on how dangerous that is" with Steve?

ty for requesting!! — steve harrington rescues you, his worst enemy, after finding you all alone on a snowy bench on main street (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, tw for toxic relationships, 2.4k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

On his way home from the Wheeler holiday party, Steve thinks he sees a dead body in the snow.

He slows at a stoplight and knows he sees a dead body in the snow.

With nothing but sheer stupidity and a savior complex, the boy rushes out of his warm car and into the vacant road on Main Street. The piling snow crunches under his sneakers and dampens them instantly. Crystalline flakes fall from the pitch-black sky at a merciless rate, sticking to his lashes and his fuzzy Christmas sweater. 

The snow glistens as it clings to the limp body lying on the bench. A girl, Steve realizes as he gets closer — a pretty girl in a pretty dress who’s not at all clothed for this kind of weather. 

He steps closer, blinks snowflakes from his eyes, and realizes that it’s you. The reigning princess of Hawkins. The homecoming queen. His absolute worst enemy. 

Steve loses his sympathy in an instant. Now that he knows you’re not dead, anyway. 

But he nudges at you gently — just to make sure — and you grumble something unintelligible into your folded-up arms.

“What are you doing?” he wonders aloud.

“What’s it look like?” you slur, rubbing your cheek against your sleeve like a cat.

“It’s freezing out. You know that, right?”

“Really?” you muse sleepily, eyes still shut. “I haven’t noticed.”

Steve scoffs a bitter laugh and rolls his honey eyes. He puts his hands on his waist, cocks his hips to the side, and leers down at you even though you can’t see him. He wonders if you even recognize his voice — if that’s the reason you’re being so short with him or if you’re just too drunk to care.

“It’s good to know you’re still a priss after all this time. It’s really refreshing, actually.”

He expects you to argue with him. That’s what you used to do, anyway. Your relationship (or lack thereof) is built on this kind of petty, meaningless banter. So he feels a little empty when you don’t bite back. Maybe even a little bad.

You fall back to sleep, a soft snore sounding from your throat. You shift in your slumber and it sends you rolling off the bench. Steve catches you before you can. He puts you back into place with two warm hands around your arms.

“Alright. Get up,” he says with an annoyed huff.

“No, thank you,” you sigh, still sleepy.

“No. Seriously. Get up before you get frostbite.” 

His voice is coated with an obvious concern. You don’t miss it — not even in your exhausted, drunken, and heartbroken state. Maybe that’s why you don’t fight him as much when he forces you to sit up, but you’re still hardly more than dead weight. He’s forced to hold you so you don’t fall over again.

Steve can see you better now that you’re fully upright. Snowflakes stick to the strands of your done-up hair, made-up lashes, and the knit material of your dress. Your eyeliner is smudged beneath your eyes, and your lipstick has been mostly kissed off. There’s a hole in the knee of your tights, too, and scuff marks on the toe of your boots.

You’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but just a little extra now. Way too beautiful to be all alone on this bench in the middle of Main Street.

“What are you doing here?” Steve blurts as he crouches in front of you. Snow wets the knee of his jeans, but he’s too distracted by you to care. “Where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he with you?”

He can’t even say the name — of your douchebag boyfriend, that is. Just thinking of the words Billy and Hargrove makes him feel like vomiting. Steve didn’t think he could hate anyone more than he hated you until he met that asshole. The two of you deserve each other, really.

Your tired head lolls to your shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you shrug.

“You weren’t with him?” the boy presses.

“I was,” you slur dramatically. “But he left.”

“He left you?”

You nod, slow and lazy.

“He left you here?”

You nod again.

Steve’s chest stings. His heart aches for you, even though he knows it shouldn’t.

“Why?” he agonizes.

“I got too drunk at a party… And I talked to a guy he didn’t like very much.”

“Then what?”

You start to go limp in his hold. Exhaustion weighs you down again, accelerated by the winter’s bitter cold. Steve squeezes your arms to keep you upright. Your eyes open again but the lids of them are visibly heavy. 

“Um… We fought in the car. And he told me to get out,” you explain in mumbled slurs. Your voice is calm and airy, as light as the falling snow. You’re too drunk to understand how heartbreaking this is. “And I tried to get back home, but then I forgot how to walk.”

Steve’s eyes start to burn. He feels like he could cry. Because sure, you’ve been his enemy since the third grade, but you’re soft and you’re gentle and utterly undeserving of Billy’s assholery. 

Because of this (and his lingering savior complex), he feels the overwhelming urge to take care of you.

“Here. C’mon,” he huffs as he rises to full height again, jaw tense to keep his teeth from chattering. He tugs at your arms to pull you up with him. You comply (as best you can on frozen, drunken limbs) but not without confusion. Your face twists with it.

“What?” you murmur.

“Get in the car, okay? C’mon.”

You plant your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to move you. You and Steve idle at a standstill with your shoes digging into the piling snow. Your toes feel close to frozen, but your hands are strangely warm with Steve holding them so tight.

“No,” you insist, dramatically stubborn in your less-than-sober state.

“No?”

“Billy will get mad.” 

Steve scoffs. “Screw Billy.”

“I do that already.” Your reply comes so swiftly, and without a single hint of a smirk, that it’s impossible to tell if you’re joking or not. Maybe you aren’t and you’re just too drunk to understand sarcasm. Maybe you are joking and the receptors in your brain aren’t firing properly enough to tell you to smile at yourself.

Either way, Steve’s face scrunches with disgust. “Gross,” he mumbles under his breath.

—————

Steve has to drag you to his car. 

He puts his palm over the crown of your head to keep you from bumping it when you duck inside. He guides your legs in, too, when you have trouble maneuvering them. Then he reaches over to buckle you in before you have to ask him for help — because god knows there’s no way you could do it on your own.

He smells like cedar and something sweet when he leans over you. His whole car smells like that, actually. It’s nice. Comforting. Almost achingly warm. 

You curl into the heated seat and provide exactly zero help when he drives you home.

“You still alive?” he asks after a couple minutes of driving.

You grunt, slumped over in your seat with your forehead pressed against the window.

“What’s your address?”

“Hm?” 

“Where do you live?” he presses.

“Why do you wanna know, perv?” you slur, obviously not all there as you shift to get more comfortable in the passenger seat of his car.

Steve scoffs. “Oh, right. I’m the perv ‘cause I didn’t leave you out in the freezing cold. Makes so much sense. Maybe next time, don’t call me when your asshole boyfriend abandons you, alright?”

He’s bitter. Intentionally hurtful. 

You’re too drunk to understand. “I didn’t call you in the first place,” you retort sleepily.

He falters. “Well— you know what I mean.”

“I can’t go home,” you answer finally.

His structured features twist with concern, but your eyes are closed so you don’t see it. His honeyed gaze squints with worry, flitting from your limp form to the darkened road and back again. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live with Billy. And he doesn’t want me there,” you tell him with a lazy shrug. Then, more quietly, you mumble. “Nobody wants me anywhere…”

You say it so softly that he barely hears it. He wishes he hadn’t. It’d make it a whole lot easier to hate you if you were still the same priss he grew up with. He isn’t so sure that you are — or if you ever were. All you are to him now is a heartbroken girl he found in the snow, in desperate need of some kindness.

So when you drift off again, he lets you. And he doesn’t wake you until you get to his house.

You feel the warmth of his presence first — the weight of his chest at your side and his hand on your waist. Your heavy eyes flutter open to find him leaning over you. He fusses with the seatbelt buckle for a moment before it clicks.

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, voice weighed down by exhaustion. There’s a million questions swirling in your head right now — where am I, why are you here, why are you taking care of me. That was just the first to slip out.

“Good. Now I don’t have to carry you,” Steve jokes.

He holds your hand to help you out of the car, then wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. He guides you towards a too big house, lit up white with expensive Christmas decorations.

“Where are we?”

“My place. You can sleep off the alcohol on my couch.”

Your head lolls to your shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and glassy as you blink up at him. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you tease, still slightly misarticulate — though not nearly as much as when he found you in the show.

Steve’s rolling his eyes at you one moment, silently scolding himself for getting out of his car in the first place — and the next, he’s standing in his kitchen, filling up a glass of water and putting slices of bread on a plate for you. He even cuts off the goddamned crust. Just in case.

He left you on the couch in the living room, but you’re gone when he gets back. It’s like he blinks, and he’s annoyed with you all over again. A huff tumbles from his mouth as he trudges up the stairs to find you.

The door to his room is cracked open. 

He finds you curled up in the center of his bed.

“No. Nope,” Steve scolds as he walks further inside. He sits the bread and the water on his nightstand and tries to shake you awake. You’re totally knocked out, hardly anything more than deadweight from the alcohol. 

And he can’t even be mad at you about it because it’s not even your fault. You shouldn’t have gotten left in the first place.

“C’mon. Get up— you’re not sleeping in my bed,” he insists. His hand curls around your arm with the intent to pull you up before he realizes how cold you are. You’re freezing, even over your dress. The notion makes Steve stop in place. 

He squints to take a better look at you — to really look at you — and swears the color of your skin is tinted blue from the cold. Your mascara is smeared — from where you’d been crying, maybe. He thinks those might be dried tear stains on your cheeks, too.

All at once, he doesn’t have the heart to wake you. He curses himself for being so hard on you. You never deserved it — not tonight, not ever — and he figures this is his time to atone.

He maneuvers you beneath his navy blue sheets with a warm and gentle hand. He brings the top of the comforter up to your jaw and you curl into his bed on instinct, sighing as you settle further into the warmth. 

Your eyes are still closed and you’re still barely conscious, but the pillow is soft against your cheek. It smells like floral detergent and musky cologne and sweet-smelling hairspray. It brings you a foreign comfort that lulls you into a deeper, much-needed sleep.

Steve settles beside you, over the covers and with his clothes still on. He wants to be awake in case you need him. He doesn’t want you to get sick and not be alert enough to help you. 

He’s laughing at the sound of your gentle snores one moment, then falling asleep to them the next.

Hawkins’ royalty. Arch enemies since elementary school. Sleeping together in one bed like you haven’t spent the majority of your lives hatingeach other.

You sleep soundly together in spite of all that. You don’t wake for several hours — not until you’ve slept the alcohol off and your suddenly sober brain reminds you of the night before. Touchy guy on the dance floor, Billy’s rough hand around your wrist, “God, you’re such a slut!” 

The last thing you remember is passing out on a bench on Main Street, so you’re not entirely sure how you ended up in a bed. 

You wake with a start, distinctly and palpably terrified. 

You’re rousing wakes Steve up, too.

“Billy?” you murmur, heavy with sleep, as you squint in the navy blue darkness. 

A part of you hopes it was all just a too vivid nightmare. Or, at the very least, that your boyfriend came to his senses and picked you up after completely abandoning you — but somehow that feels more unrealistic than all the shit he put you through the evening before.

“No—” Steve answers groggily, then clears throat when the word gets stuck there. He rises to his elbows and looks over his shoulder at you, squinting a tired eye to see you better. “No, it’s— it’s Steve.”

He can’t see you too well, not in the pitch black of his bedroom, but he swears he hears you sigh. One of relief, maybe, or maybe one of ease. Either way, you don’t seem very upset that he’s here with you.

“Oh,” you answer, still a bit breathless. “Okay…” You lie back down again, feeling eons safer than just seconds before, as you curl back into your shape on his mattress. You sigh into your pillow and try not to gravitate towards the warmth beside you.

Steve’s hands fidget with a similar fight to keep from holding you. “It’s okay,” he settles on instead, hoping his words can embrace you in a way he doesn’t let himself. “You’re okay.”

[darlingshane]

Dirty Laundry

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: Shane doesn't approve of the way you do laundry. He tries to school you, but he loves you so much he can't really stay mad at you for long, especially when you start taking your clothes off.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Crack, Oral Sex (f. recieving), Vaginal sex, Pet Names, Bratty reader. No ZA.

Word Count: 1.9k // AO3 Link.

You were aware Shane had his quirks before moving in together. Some you already knew, like having five pairs of boots from the same brand, or the way he chews his thumbnail when he’s nervous, or how he frantically runs his hand on his hair when he’s pissed… Most of those were quickly revealed after you started dating. Others you'd only come aware of them upon moving in together.

One that is highly surprising is his obsession with laundry. You noticed that his clothes were always perfectly clean and ironed as he wore them on any occasion you went out, no matter how fancy or casual. But once you were sharing the same bedroom, you found out that even his underwear is always neatly pressed and folded in the drawer as if it had just come out of the package. With how much he works, you always thought he'd have taken to a cleaners or something, but that’s not the case. He not only cares for his own clothes but making laundry is something he actually enjoys. It relaxes him, he says. Which it’s the complete opposite for you. It makes you anxious anytime you have to do it. Especially the folding and sorting part. When you lived alone, there was always a pile sitting on that chair in the corner of your room. But not anymore. Now that you are living with Shane there are no more random piles collecting dust for days at a time in any chair of the house. Anytime he does laundry, you come home to find your drawers perfectly organized. It’s not something you can complain about because Shane is a true dream of a partner. Quirks and all, you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, in return, any time it’s your turn to make laundry, no matter how much you hate it, you make the minimal effort to at least take the same care of his clothes as he does for yours. Though you could tell that sometimes he doesn’t approve of your messy folding technique, and has to rearrange them when you’re not around, he never says anything either.

But today, when it's your turn to do laundry, he comes home to catch you transferring all the dirty clothes from the hamper into the washing machine, both yours and his without much regard of type, color, texture… That's how you've always done it. Yes, it's messy, and you've had a couple of mishaps, but nothing really atrocious ever happened. You never put that much thought into it, to be honest. It's just clothing. But not for Shane. Watching his precious shirts, and uniform with the rest of the load makes him physically ill. He stares at you as if you were killing a puppy.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he goes off, taking stuff out of the washer. “You can't mix delicates with towels. And what the fuck is this?” he picks up a pair of dirty sneakers from the bottom of the drum. “You were really gonna wash them with all these? You're a fuckin’ savage.”

You lean against the dryer and try not to burst into laughter at how annoyed he is. It's kinda cute actually to see him frown at you with scorn, and hearing his voice pitch a little higher than usual.

These past few weeks, you've been collecting a series of firsts since you moved into your new home. The first time you cooked in your new kitchen, the first time you disagreed when it came to rearranging the living room furniture, the first night you woke him up when you heard a strange noise in the hallway… And today it's the first time you've truly seen him irritated.

“It's just clothes, babe. Who cares?”

“I care.” He frantically goes through the heap of clothes, divorcing them into several piles on top of the washer. “Please tell me at least you're not using the speed cycle to wash everything.”

“What? It saves time, water, electricity…”

“Yeah, but at what cost.”

“Gee, it's not like I murdered someone.”

“You were about to murder my uniform. That's the real crime.”

“Hmm, you look better without it anyway.” You tease, reaching with your hand to pinch his booty covered by a pair of jeans.

“Stop, this is serious.” Shane stays firm in his position but tries to hide one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “Look, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”

“Ohh, fun. I'm about to get schooled by the laundry police. Please enlighten me, Officer.”

You roll your eyes and half listen to him explaining the washer’s control panel to you as if you were an idiot. It’s not that you don’t know how to use it, it’s that you’re lazy and rather put everything together and save time. Then, he proceeds to elaborate on which categories you should separate the different types of fabrics.

“That would take me all day if I have to do that many loads.”

“So? That’s what weekends are for?”

“Noooo. Weekends are for resting, watching movies, and chilling.”

“Who said you can't have that too?”

“You! I think I lost five years of my life by just listening to you explaining how to do laundry.”

“You’re being a little brat today.”

“Am I now?” You smirk and push one of the piles he had on top of the washer to the floor. “Whoops.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Nothing.” You push the next one.

“You're playing a dangerous game, darling.”

“Yeah? I just want you to teach me again how to do it.” Next, you grab the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing, pull it over your head and dangle it in your finger. “Where should I put this, deputy?”

“I'd put it up your ass. Bet it'd look real nice there.”

You snort and let the shirt fall to the floor.

“What about this, Mr. Delicate?” you unclasp your bra, slip the straps off your arms, and drape it on his shoulder. “Do you like it there?”

Then, you brace your palms on his chest, your lips draw a grin as you lean to whisper closer to his mouth. “Or do you want me to put it back on?”

“Don't fucking dare putting it back on?” He mutters, swatting the bra off his shoulder before having his hand holding your jaw firmly.

There's actually no other choice for him than to join your little game. Laundry be damned when it comes to choosing between you or clothes.

Licking his lips, he pulls his head back, eyes roaming down to your bare chest as you move your hands to hold his waist. When his stare travels back up, you both lock eyes for a second before having his mouth pressed against yours with a sloppy, pushing flick of his tongue forcing itself past your lips.

His hand keeps your head still while he shoves your back against the wall. His free hand snakes its way under the waistband of your sweatpants at the front. His fingers shamelessly rub your pussy back and forth over your panties, tucking the fabric in your slit. Hitting all the right spots, he earns a good moan out of you.

All of a sudden, his tongue comes to a stop. His hand too. Shane drops to his knees. From that position he pulls your sweatpants down to your ankles and grabs your hips as his tongue juts out to draw a wet circle around your navel. He then trails down, as your skin comes alive into goose flesh. He yanks your underwear down your legs to join your pants at the floor before having his mouth shoved at the junction of your hips. His mouth travels all over your sex, leaving kisses and nibbles your outer lips, licking your folds, teasing your clit…

“Shane… Fuck…” you bury your fingers in his hair and pull tight as the tip of his tongue circles your opening.

Your body writhes against the hard surface holding your back, your grip tightens on his hair while his lips viciously start sucking your clit. Your pussy melts as much as any time he goes down on you and just as fast as before, his mouth is suddenly gone before the job is done, leaving that sweet aching lingering all over your cunt. He lifts his stare to seize your unsatisfied expression as you gasp for air. He quickly yanks his shirt off before holding your hips and bringing you down to the floor.

“C’mere, dirty lil brat,” he growls, and you yelp as he manhandles your body, rolling you to your back right on top of the pile of dirty laundry you tossed to the floor.

Shane removes the clothing hanging around your ankles and sets your knees widely apart so he can kneel in between. He unzips his jeans, pulls them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxer briefs to release his erection. He’s hard as rock. The flared tip of his dick is swollen and red, begging for some friction. There’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. As he lowers his body down, you frame his face with both your palms, pull his face closer to capture his mouth while he blindly guides himself into your opening. Your core knots tightly as he pushes all his length up to the hilt. His breathing shallows as you devour his mouth with hunger. He comfortably settles on top of you, holding one of his arms on the side of your head while his other hand clutches to your hips. His thrusts come sharp and steady, filling the room with the relentless slapping of his hips against your skin and the desperate sounds of your kisses.

“God, I love you,” you groan in his mouth.

“Love you more, sweetheart.”

You breathe the air of his lungs, eat his tongue and swallow the sweet grunts that come out of his throat one beat at a time as you both lose the ability to draw deeper breaths. His cock swiftly comes in and out of you as your legs tremble and lock. You move your hands to hold his ass as the erratic waving of his hips drives you out of your mind. A pulse later you're hit with a mighty climax that almost makes you lose consciousness. As your walls flutter around his thickness he spills all his warm juices deep in your walls.

“Fuck me,” his voice falters as he slips out of you.

He lays flat on top of you for a moment as your orgasm slowly ebbs. His skin is warm and damp against yours as your palm glides up his back to comb the hairs at his nape.

“Oh god, now the laundry is dirtier than before,” you laugh softly as his smile grows wide against your neck.

“And whose fault is that, huh?” he lifts his head to look at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Technically… it’s yours. If you had let me do it as I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Ain’t that right?” he playfully pinches your side making you jolt and chuckle.

“I mean… I’d rather do you than do laundry, so I'm not complaining.”

“Yeah?” he sweetly dips to leave a chaste peck on your lips. “I'd rather do you, too.”

[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again.