#guards! annoy the shit out of that man! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osachiyo · 1 year ago

Text

✦ BAD TIMING? ✦

⟣ ──┈ · · · + including : dazai, chuuya, fukuzawa, fyodor x fem!reader

⟣ ──┈ · · · + c/w : nsfw content (mdni), teasing, petnames, degradation, rough sex, prone bone, cowgirl, mating press, nipple play, cursing, cockwarming, mentions of nikolai + non consensual vouyer in fyodor's & more

⟣ ──┈ · · · + a/n : i wrote this with my pussy.

synopsis. . . you're getting your guts rearranged when− 'riiing!' the annoying sound of his phone ringing caught you both off guard, snapping you out of your dazed state as you both paused your nightly rendezvous. what's even more surprising to you is when he reaches over to grab the tiny device, answering the call− ugh, seriously?

.001 — Dazai

You whined at feeling Dazai's hips slow down, now completely flush against your ass, as he picks up the phone. "What could kunikida-kun possibly need from me, at this hour?" He muttered to himself, voice breathy and warm against the shell of your ear. Fuck, it was kunikida?

"Hello~ ku-ni-ki-da-kuunnnnn?" Your co-worker said in an annoyingly sing-songy voice, making the man in the other end of the line grumble in frustration. They began talking about some..mission? Anyway, it had been around 20 minutes since they've started talking? You couldn't exactly tell− or cared, honestly. The only thing in your fucked out mind was for dazai to close the damn phone and just fuck you already!

You showed your frustrations by huffing and angrily kicking your legs− turning your head to look back at dazai with a glare. He only smirked in response, shrugging before turning his attention back to the call.

You had no idea that dazai was aching to move right now, the feeling of your warm cunt pulsating around him was almost too much to bear. The way sweat gathered at the dip of your back, the way you arched for him− shit.

It had been a few more moments, you were so close to whine out complaints when dazai's hips started moving again, cock easily brushing against your sweet spot. You could still hear his voice from behind you.. he− he wasn't done with the call?!

You were about to ask him what the hell he was planning now− when long, slim fingers entangled themselves in your already messy hair− shoving your head down against the mattress to shut you up as he kept his pace, voice straining a little while he contuined his "very important" conversation with your other co-worker.

Lewd "pap! pap! pap!" noises of dazai's balls hitting your ass filled the enclosed room as you tried your best not to let any moans slip out− god, if he found out− "oi dazai, what're the weird noises coming from your side?"

Fuck.

"Oh uh− nothing, nothing at all, kunikida-kun," he breathed, free hand now coiling around your waist to rub at your neglected clit− making your back arch even more as you gasped out loudly.

"What the− are you sure? You better not be scheming anything bad right now, idiot."

"Of course not! mmh− so tight−!" he whispered the last bit, large hand now cluntching the flip phone in a vice grip as he watched his cock disappear inside of your slick folds− a creamy ring forming around the base of his cock.

"Huh? what's so tight? Dazai−"

That was the last thing you heard from kunikida before dazai's poor phone was thrown somewhere on the bed, the hand coiled in your hair now dragging you up− arching your back even more for him as he muttered soft curses into your ear.

You let out a pained mewl at your hair being pulled, desperate hands scrambling to claw and tug at the sheets as your back was flush against dazai's chest. "Ah− shiit−!" your eyes rolled back as the thumb circling your tiny clit sped up, the bed creaking loudly with each thrust of dazai's narrow hips against your ass.

"Yeah? you gonna cum, 'donna?" Dazai mocked, breath hot against your neck as he moaned lewdly at the way your pussy gushed around him− spraying the sheets with clear fluid. Dazai only groaned in response, "oh shit, fuuuck!− g'nna cum inside you, yeah? y' wan' that?" He slurred, you didn't get to answer before blunt nails meanly dug into your hips as he stilled− balls tightening as spurts of white filled your cunt before he fell on top of you.

You two laid there for a few moments, his cock slowly softening inside you− chest heaving as he finally got off, hissing from the loss of warmth. Dazai pressed a gentle kiss on your temple before walking off, most likely to grab a wet rag to clean you up. You got up with a sigh, running a hand through your messy hair when your eyes land on dazai's phone− it wasn't too far away from you.

You crawled closer to it, taking it in your hands when it lit up− "call ended now."

.002 — Chuuya

You were happily bouncing on your boyfriend's dick when the annoying ringtone of his phone went off. He sighed, lifting his head from the sofa as he reached over to grab the device, brows furrowing at the contact name.

You were sitting idly on his lap now, still impaled on his cock. "Who is it?" You panted, out of breath as you tried not to clench around the ginger's fat dick.

"It's.. boss. be quiet f'me, okay doll?" His voice was soft, but you know he meant it as a command.

You nodded innocently, urging him to answer the phone call. and he did, the way he immediately put on a professional voice sort of baffled you but hey, he was a mafia executive.

But the moment he put the phone next to his ear, you clenched around him tight— making him almost double over with a gasp as he gripped your hip for stability.

"Argh!— I mean- y-yes, boss!" He stuttered, face flushing as he grit his teeth, glaring at you as his fingertips dug into your plush hip, veins appearing at his temple as he mouthed to you to "behave."

Like hell you'd listen and torture yourself by cockwarming him. You only grinned mischievously before lifting your hips up and slamming down on his cock, his eyes shutting tightly as he tried his best not to moan out— he couldn't. Especially not with Mori on the line.

You kept pleasuring yourself on his cock without a care, even going as far as putting a show for him— your hands reaching to play with your tits as you softly moaned out his name, reaching to grab his hand but he only smacked it away, cock dripping with need as he tried his best to keep things professional.

"Chuuya-kun, everything alright on your side? I keep hearing these..noises."

The man in question knew he was fucked— he knew Mori already figured everything out, "uh— y-yeah, boss. I'm fine— fuck—!" Panting out the last part, Chuuya gripped his phone so tight that you worried it would shatter.

"Uh-huh.. Anyway, you had better call me back once you're finished with your.... current predicament. Have fun."

And with that, the Port Mafia boss ended the call, making Chuuya groan in annoyance before chucking the small device somewhere— "what the hell was that?" He growled, hand coming up to wrap around your throat as he forced you to stop your movements, cock nestled deep inside of you once again as your hips stilled. You whined from the loss of friction, the sound only making your lover's right eye twitch in annoyance— "such a poor, needy slut, ain't ya?" He held you down firmly before thrusting up, fat cock nudging against your sweet spot as you threw your head back.

"Ooh, f-fuck— my slutty fuckin' girl can't even stand a few minutes without cock, huh?" He stuttered, other hand reaching up to land a gentle but firm slap on your face. It didn't sting much, but was enough to move your head to the other side. You only whimpered in response, clenching around him even more as his thrusts sped up— growls and groans of pleasure escaping his own lips as he suddenly parted your lips with his thumb before shoving two gloved fingers down your throat— your eyes stinging with tears as the digits hit the back of your throat, tits bouncing up and down as he practically manhandled you like a ragdoll— settling you on your hands and knees without even pulling out fully.

"Argh- fuck—!" He moaned, burying his face into the dip of your shoulder, landing soft kisses on the smooth skin. "Ch-chuuya— s'good, feels s'good—" you slurred, eyes rolling back as one hand found your breasts— the soft flesh jiggling with each brutal thrust of his hips as he basically slapped them around, harshly pinching your nipple as his other hand found your clit— rubbing quick and fast circles on the delicate bud— making you clamp around his cock once more before gushing all over his cock and the expensive leather couch. Your juices ran down his balls to his thighs— the force of your orgasm making you limp against him. You'd probably fall face first onto the couch if not for Chuuya's vice grip on you. Whimpers and borderline pornographic moans left his swollen lips— before biting down hard on your shoulder, spurts of cum flooding your insides as you laid flaccid in his hold— a drooling, shivering mess.

Chuuya fell on top of you, the both of you laying in each other's warmth when—

"Riiiing!"

.003 — Fukuzawa

A pout graced your pretty lips when your husband reached for his phone— picking the tiny device up as he drew soothing circles on your hip, motioning for you to be quiet.

You tried your best to be quiet as he took the phone call, you really did! But the way his cock was nestled so deep inside you and the way you could practically feel him throb inside of your gooey walls— you really didn't wanna bother him or interrupt his phone call but... you couldn't help but whine softly, reaching a hand down to rub at your clit, clenching down on the older man's impossibly hard cock. Fukuzawa's eyes widened when his eyes finally focused on you, underneath him— little pants and huffs of his name rolling off your tongue as you played with yourself. Your other hand was playing with your nipples, softly tugging on them as you bit your bottom lip— which was already swollen. Your eyes were glossed over, hips dying to move on their own.

His jaw was clenched— free hand coming down to lift your legs and put them on his shoulder before he started thrusting inside of you with more vigour than before. It was like he was in a trance— the way your pussy fluttered around his pulsating cock, and the way his tip kissed your cervix with each thrust had you both panting. Your head spun with pleasure as he reaches down to press at your tummy— feeling his bulge. Fuck, he was huge.

The phonecall still went on, of course— but you know all Fukuzawa could think about was you, and the way your pretty cunt swallowed his cock. The noises leaving his mouth told you exactly what you needed to know— the slight stutter in his voice, usually gentle tone now gruff and slightly higher in pitch as he tried his best not to blow his load right then and there.

Not like you were any better either— hair disheveled, sweat dripping off your body as tears stinged at your eyes from the sheer size of this man— it didn't take long for you to cream and gush all over his cock— some of it even spraying on his abdomen. He saw the way your glossy eyes rolled back, your jaw slacked open as your high hit you like a truck.

To hell with the phonecall — he thought.

He cut off whoever was on the other line with a quick but curt, "I'm a little busy— I'll call you later", not even letting the other person respond before ending the call and placing the phone away— all his attention back was on you.

"Putting on a show f'me, sweet girl?" He grunted, dragging his hips back before slamming them against yours— "mmh! K-Knew it'd work— fuck!" You moaned, now feeling both of his hands pushing your legs back, knees almost touching your ears as he forced you into a mean mating press. You felt your high coming closer again— balls slapping against your ass, cock bullying that spongey spot inside of your gummy walls as he groaned sweet nothings into your neck— gruff voice drowned out by his own growls.

You could only babble nonsense and his name as you came hard for the second time that night— pussy clenching around his length and he could feel something snap inside of him— hips speeding up to an inhuman pace, losing their rhythm as he bottomed out fully. Balls pressed against your ass while he spurted out so much cum— some of it ran down your ass and on to the sheets as he slowly got up, pulling out of your cunt with a hiss and watching his cum gushing out of your cunt in spurts.

.004 — Fyodor

You were finally bouncing on Fyodor's cock after hours of teasing and cockwarming— your hips and thighs burned but it didn't matter to you at the moment, because you can finally reach that release that Fyodor has been dangling in front of you— or at least you thought.

Your heart dropped to your stomach once the ringing of his phone echoed through the room— an annoyed sigh leaving Fyodor's lips as he gently slapped your thigh, a silent order for you to stop and stay still.

"A noise and you're getting punished," Fyodor's voice was smooth, but the threat made you gulp, "o-okay," you nodded, accidentally clenching down on him from nervousness and he hissed— blunt fingernails digging into your soft hips. He let out a shaky breath before picking up the phone, it was sort of unsettling how his voice switched from breathy to normal in a second.

You didn't know the phonecall would last so damn long.

It had been almost 30 whole minutes since he had picked up the goddamned phone— and this was pure torture to you. The occasional twitch of his cock inside you made your head spin, oh and the way he'd glare at you when you clenched down particularly hard— it did nothing else but make you even wetter. He, on the otherhand, was completely fine— not a hair out of place as he spoke so casually about.. something. The only time he'd react is when your pussy contracted around him— which would only get a hiss, or hitched breath from the man. It pissed you off.

It was too much for you— your juices running down his cock and onto the leather chair, god - you were leaking so much.

Fortunately for you, he was done with the call soon enough— quickly placing the phone on the desk before whispering into your shoulder as he placed gentle kisses on your skin, "go ahead, myshka - move." His voice was soft, as if he was proud of you for obeying his order and being a good girl— fingers that were previously digging into your flesh now reached between your bodies to rub and flick at your clit, while you happily bounced on his dick. He may have been quiet as a mouse during the phonecall— but he couldn't help but let out soft grunts and pants as you expertly milked his cock, dry lips even letting out one or two whines as you kissed his neck, down to his collarbones— pale skin now adorning a heavy flush as your thighs smacked against his own.

Lewd squelches and noises of skin smacking against skin filled the dark room of his office— Fyodor's jaw clenching as he feels your walls - so soft and warm, squeezing his cock as if you were trying to milk him. He was going to cum soon— but he couldn't possibly finish before his darling, could he? Lithe and slim fingers sped up their movements on your clit as he bit on your shoulder— free hand pinching and pulling at your hardened nipples as you gasped, your own pace turning sloppy and uncoordinated as you clenched your eyes shut— cumming all over his cock as he held your hips down firmly, shooting ribbons of white inside of your walls, some of it dribbling down his balls to the leather of his seat.

You both were left panting, shivering as Fyodor drew random shapes into your shoulder— trying to come down from his own high. He pulled you closer after you both calmed down, your head resting on his chest as he placed soft kisses on the crown of your head, whispering how good you've been for him.

If only you knew the man also coming down from his high on the other end of the video call— white hair disheveled as he came all over his screen.

©sachiyoh — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

note. ik i said i'd add jouno but I lost motivation for this thing :( jouno will be added to another work, so sorry jouno lovers </3

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorahatsumi @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @hannzai @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @poisonedslop @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @boba-is-good @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter @4xxxv @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @qqingque @lunaeheroine18 @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @leftrunawaybanana @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @otakudul @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch @chuuya-brainrot

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

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hii!! I don't know if your requests are open but I love the way you write for the Batboys so I thought I'd request something ^-^

The batboys reacting to their s/o not saying "I love you" back when they end a call. This tiktok for reference.

(In case the link doesn't work https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLW4JWj1/)

Idk if you'll see this but thank you!!

Dick

‘I’ll see you soon honey, I love you.’ Dick said on the other side of the phone.

‘See you soon, bye.’ You said cheerfully as you hung up the phone, trying your hardest not to break down with laughter. You could clearly see Dick’s face within your mind, looking down at his phone with the expression of a confused husky dog, head tilted to the side and a pout spread across his face.

For not once had you ever not said ‘I love you’ to Dick when ending a phone call, even when you were annoyed with him you still told him that you loved him, so this was completely out of the ordinary for you and you knew that Dick knew that too.

Which is why he was quick to call you back.

‘Hi! Yeah this is your BOYFRIEND speaking, you know the one you love and are devoted to loving for all of eternity, so do you not love me anymore now or?’

‘Of course I do what makes you think that sweetheart?’ You asked, trying not to laugh at Dick’s dramatics.

‘Well it doesn’t sound like it.’ You could practically hear him huffing. ‘I just want to be loved is that so much to ask for?’ He asks rhetorically.

‘Dick, you’re being dramatic.’ You tell him and he gasps on the other side. ‘Me dramatic? Never! All I ask is for my beautiful, stunning and perfect partner to say they love me before I go kick some ass, but no I’m asking too much apparently.’ Dick then huffs. ‘How mean.’ You heard him mutter under his breath.

‘Fine I love you! I love you very much so go kick all the asses for my honey! I love, love, love you!’ You practically shouted down the phone. ‘How was that for you mr dramatic?’ You add.

‘Mr dramatic loves you too very much.’ Was all he said before hanging up.

Dick never liked it when you didn’t say I love you, he gets very upset and doesn’t want to do anything else until you concede and tell him you love him as though your life depended on it. He was indeed a dramatic man.

Tim

‘Don’t stay up too late for me, I’ll be home soon I love you.’ He said.

‘Okay bye.’ Was all you replied with before hanging up the phone.

Tim knew damn well you weren’t doing much but hold back your laughter when you put down the phone after not saying ‘I love you’ like you normally did, and so through the process of elimination did Tim eventually come to the conclusion that this was all an elaborate prank.

‘I know this is a prank, you can cut it out now.’ Tim tells you the moment you picked up the phone.

‘Prank? Why would you think this is a prank?’ You asked.

‘You’ve not once forgot to tell me you love me in our past calls, so for you to do it now only is an indication of two things, one it’s a prank or I’ve done something wrong.’ He told you with certainty in his deduction.

You raised a brow. ‘And what makes you think that you didn’t do something wrong and I’m not mad at you?’ You were the one to ask this time as you could practically hear him think.

‘Because I didn’t.’ Was his only reply and you couldn’t help but giggle as you ask again. ‘Are you sure?’

Silence for a couple of second were what you were greeted with before being greeted with a ‘I’m a hundred percent certain.’

You sighed. ‘You’re right, it’s a prank, I’m sorry but I hope this I love you will set things right. So here it is: I love you Tim Drake.’

More silence and you were worried for a second before you heard him say ‘I love you too, don’t stay up too late for me please, we both can’t be sleep deprived that’s only reserved for me.’

Tim knew, he always does so there’s no point trying to prank him because he’ll know unless he’s caught off guard, though he won’t tell you is that he nearly shit himself when you didn’t and though he did something when he begin to think logically.

Jason

‘Okay I’ve got to head out on patrol now with Roy, I’ll see you as soon as I’m done chipmunk, I love you.’

‘See you soon jaybirdie, bye.’ You replied before quickly putting the phone done but as soon as you did, mentally counting down from three and when you got to one, your phone flashed with Jason’s contact almost immediately.

You knew he wasn’t going to let that slide once you started this little prank and he played right into your hands.

‘What was that.’ He asks.

‘What was what.’ You replied, acting as though you were confused.

‘You know what, the whole not saying I love you. it’s kind of out thing and so for you to not saying it is kinda throwing me off my grove, and Roy won’t stop saying how much of a simp I am. What even is a simp anyway?’ You couldn’t help but feel your smile grow wider at Jason’s rant and let out a small chuckle.

‘I’m sure Roy can tell you what a simp is, but I don’t see how me not saying I love you once is enough to throw you complete of your game.’ You replied as you could almost hear Roy laugh.

Jason sighs and you could imagine him rubbing his forehead. ‘Can you, can you just say it so I’m not thinking about it for the rest of the night, I don’t feel like bleeding out on our bathroom floor tonight.’ He says and you couldn’t help but feel yourself bend to his will a little before completely yielding entirely.

‘Fine, if it’ll make you feel better, I love you.’ You said and you could tell that took the weight off of his shoulders.

‘Thanks chipmunk, I love you.’ He said before hanging up, finally content to see the patrol through with a clear mind.

Needless to say Jason internally overthought himself when you didn’t say I love you once, it nearly drove the poor man insane and into doing something reckless. So it was good that you did say it when you did.

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kill4luvina · 8 days ago

Text

"Right thru me"

Onyankopon x Black!Reader

Summary : You and your man been havin' this dumb argument, and he know you so well it lowkey freaks you out. Especially today because he already had your whole routine down from prior nights when you'd act up exactly like this.

CW : SMUT, Pussy Slapping, Overstimulation, reader tryna run from the dick,Unprotected sex, (probably a lil more),not proof read. (This is a really really old draft im posting.)

" What are we doin'? Could you see through me? 'Cause you say, "Y/N," and I say, "Who, me?" And you say, "No, you," and I say, "Screw you"

Your jaw would drop as your stared at your boyfriend after hearing the bullshit that just came out his mouth. "You blowin my shi, like shut the actual fuck up." You'd say before turning your body away from him annoyed as fuck. "Mamas, you know damn well this ain't worth gettin' all worked up about," Ony would say, glancin' at you for a sec before realizing you were genuinely mad.

"Mamas… can you at least finish my hair before you get mad…?" he'd ask, getting up from where he was sitting and slowly walking over to you. You'd turn your back quickly, throwing the comb you had from doing his hair straight at him. He'd catch it, pissing you off even more as you stormed off into your room, leaving him completely alone in the living room.

He already knew you'd be in your room hitting your vape like a mad woman just out of pure anger. "Mamas.." He'd call from the opposite side of the door, slowly opening as you two make eye contact. "Come back please," he'd plead, already knowing you'd say no as you'd turn your body so your back was now facing him.

You'd hit your vape a couple of times before feeling a small kiss in your neck. "I'm sorry.." He'd whisper softly, knowing this always made you weak. Even before this, in a life before when it came to him his soul knew how to make yours feel better no matter what.

"Why would you say that..?" You'd ask firmly, trying to stand your ground. You'd be caught off guard feeling Ony's warm hands up against your skin. He'd softly play with your tits under your shirt leaving soft love bites on your neck. "You know I don't mean it.." he'd whisper.

"Onyyy-" you'd moan eyes rolling back as you felt his dick hitting you in all the right places. Your pussy creaming all over his dick as he gave you slow deep strokes. "You like that?" He'd ask, slapping your ass as he kept a constant speed.

"Oh-- oh my god.." You'd cry as you felt him pull out slapping his dick against your pussy. Slowly pushing himself back in you'd push your hips back so it'd slip in faster. He'd softly whimper, his eyes focusing on how your pussy swallowed him whole.

"Mama's, stop acting like you can take this dick.." He'd slap your ass getting a gasp out of you. "Y-yes I can!" You'd try to say as you started fucking back into him trying to prove him wrong.

"You always saying that shit until I'm rearranging your guts and you runnin'.." He'd said as he used a hand to push you head down into the bed, already aware of what your stubborn ass was gonna say. "Onyy, fuck mee" you'd whine getting your head pushed down, arching your back more for him.

"mmhm," He'd say putting a leg up onto the bed, as he started to pick up his pace. His eyes focusing now how creamy he could make your pussy, your moans getting louder as you tried your hardest to keep fucking back into him to prove him wrong.

Your eyes getting blurry the moment you felt a slap to your ass, whining you'd turn to look up at him. "Ony, stop being so mean.." You'd weakly let out as you kept fucking yourself onto his dick, he'd raise a brow before pulling out and slapping your pussy. "Ony!" You'd moan the mixture of pain & pleasure confusing you.

He'd go right back to fucking you, but this time his thrusts were deeper, quicker and much more rough. Not even a minute passes by and your cumming, your eyes rolling so far back as your pussy tightened around him.

"See, look at you, a mess." He'd say still fucking you, at the same pace but even rougher. "O-onyyy, too muchhh." you'd cry tears already rolling down you cheek as you felt him speeding up his pace. "But you can take it, right?" He'd continue as he'd slap your ass here and there.

"Can'ttt" you'd cry, reaching a hand back to attempt to push him back. "Mama's, what i said abt running from the dick?" he'd ask ignoring your silly attempt as he picked the pace up fucking you even deeper. "ddont rememberr" you'd babble out feeling like you couldn't remember anything.

"yeah, alright. just move this fucking hand."

" You make me laugh, you make hoarse from yelling at you And getting at you, picking up dishes, throwing them at you "

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obsessedwrhys · 7 months ago

Note

Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

Note

Imagine rough sex with eds and you guys just break the bed and you have to tell wayne

✶ ┄ BROKEN BEDS !

summary: you and eddie break his bed. the worst part is having to tell wayne. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader warning: smut! eddie being the cutest human alive! a wild appearance from uncle wayne! 18+ mdni! a/n: i need everyone to know that when i wrote this draft, i titled it "breaking bed" and it made me chuckle a lil. anyway, thanks for your request anon! enjoy xoxo

( MASTERLIST )

when eddie muson fucks, he fucks like a wild animal

he grunts with each of his rough thrusts, brown eyes somehow darker with lust while his untamed curls cling to his sweaty forehead

and you just let him drill into you because, truth be told, you love him this way

you hold the backs of your thighs and keep yourself wide open for him while he fucks so deeply into you

he leans over you, one hand white-knuckled where it grips his headboard, and the other wrapped around your throat

not tight enough to choke you exactly, but to make sure your eyes stay locked on his as he fucks you for all your worth

the headboard slams into the wall in time with each of his thrusts, rhythmic bang bang bangs that you’d be scared are leaving a dent in the wall if eddie wasn’t making you feel so good

he tilts your jaw to the side to expose your neck to him

and he hides his face in the sweaty crook of it, seeking refuge there while he nips and suckles at the warmed skin

you just keep begging for him to go harder and deeper and faster as he fucks you more and more stupid

and eddie complies without question

he revels in the way you keen each time he pounds into you and how your face scrunches up and your back arches for him

your toes curl and your legs tense up so hard they start to quiver

and right when you’re about to come, the bed suddenly jolts and dips beneath you, accompanied by loud crashing sound

it scares the shit out of you and you squeal while eddie lets out a grunt of surprise

because his bed just fucking broke

and it isn’t the most surprising thing in the world, the thing is about as old as he is

but it does take the two of you off guard

all you can do in the moment is laugh about it

and eddie barely wastes another second before he starts fucking you again

because his bed is already broken, who cares if it gets more fucked up?

plus he knew how close you were to your orgasm and you just look so pretty when you come <3

the worst part about it though is telling wayne

because there’s no way he’s not going to notice

and eddie can’t exactly sleep on a crooked bed

so he just comes up with the shittiest excuse known to man “so the thing is... i was… jumping on the bed…”

wayne furrows his brows “the hell were you doing jumping on your bed?”

“well, you see, i was just, you know… trying to… heal my inner child…”

“…what the fuck does that mean?”

but, like, obviously wayne knows

typically you’re good at keeping eddie in check and sometimes he can hear you saying you don’t want to fuck while wayne’s in the house

and that’s a part of the reason he likes you so much bc you don’t want to put him through that trauma

but you guys are young and in love and sometimes keeping your hands off of each other feels like the hardest thing in the world

so he knows exactly how the bed broke

but hearing eddie trying to lie about it is the funniest thing on the planet

shopping for a new bed frame is easily the most adult thing you and eddie have ever done

and the only one he can afford is a star wars themed one in the children’s section

eddie groans and acts annoyed about having to get one that’s so childish but you know he secretly loves it

because the headboard is shaped like the cock pit of the millennium falcon with lightsabers painted on the foot of the bed

you try to put it together without wayne’s help while he’s at work

and you’re like “how long do you give it before we break this one?”

“an hour if you wine and dine me first <3”

have any blurb requests? send em here if you want!

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #st headcanons #eddie spaghetti hc

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rissouu · 11 months ago

Note

could you do a plug! eren x reader where eren gets super overprotective 🩷

yesss ofc! im sorry this took a while i just had to get some damn motivation 😭 i been slacking.. my bad pookies!

his hands stayed wrapped around your waist as you walked through the mall, he promised to take you on a shopping spree. and right now the only thing you really needed were shoes— so foot locker it was.

it was like eren could sense all the stares you were getting, in his eyes those tiny ass the shorts you wore barely covered up anything.. (he was just being dramatic, the shorts weren’t that tiny but he still hated them.) he made a mental note to toss the shorts out as soon as you two made it home.

he tried getting you to change before you guys even arrived at the mall, but of course you weren’t going to listen to him— you never did. that’s one of the characteristics he loved about you but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

when you finally reached the famous shoe store, you couldn’t hide your excitement. you’d always been a sneaker head after all, always having the newest pair of dunks or jordan’s, a lot of people envied you because of it honestly, but oh well.

you couldn’t resist snatching out of eren’s hold and practically running towards the shoes on display. the dunks that you’d been wanting for months finally dropped, and you just had to get them before they sold out.

“ma you know how i feel ‘bout you walkin’ off on your own,” he made his way back over to you, annoyance evident on his face. eren hated when you did this, he wanted(needed) to be by your side at all times. why couldn’t you understand that?

“im sorry babyyy, i just really need to check if they have my size!” you bent over to take the shoe off the rack— completely forgetting that your shorts were the type to rise up when you did so.

you didn’t think too much about it and stayed in your current position— throughly inspecting the shoe. the color looked better online but shit, it was still cute.

eren eventually got tired of standing, he knew how you got when it came to shoes. he’d be standing there for a whole damn hour fucking with you, so he just sat down on one of the benches used to try on shoes.

he always got so bored coming to stores with you because you always tuned him out and wandered off on your own. you were addicting to shopping and even more addicted to shoes.. the only thing he could do was sit down and go on his phone, since you’d clearly be taking forever.

you were so focused on the baby blue shoes that you hardly even noticed anyone’s presence behind you, turns out one of the workers had been eyeing you for quite a while now.. waiting for his chance to make a move. your beauty caught him off guard and he knew he couldn’t let a fine thing like you just walk away.

“hello welcome, did you need help with- oh god damn..”

that was enough to finally get eren’s attention off his phone as his eyes snapped towards the scrawny dude licking his lips— enjoying the sight of your shorts working against you.

with a low chuckle your man stood from his seat, slowly inching towards you to make his presence known. he snatched you by your waist— easily causing your form to straighten out. he took his eyes off you for one second and you’re bent over with them little ass shorts on?

he had half a mind to just fuck you right here and now to let all these muh’ fucka’s know who you belong to, but luckily he had enough self restraint.

“i’ll kill you right now man, ion even play like that. better walk yo’ ass on somewhere,” eren slightly lifted his black tee— flashing his gun that was strapped on his waist. he roughly yanked you behind him so the fucker wouldn’t dare to look at you again, and the only thing you could do was let him.

not that you would’ve resited anyway, you loved when eren got aggressive like this (not that you’d ever admit it).

“o-oh that’s you? i apologize i didn’t-“

“’fuck up talkin’ to me yo, you got five seconds to walk away before i put a bullet in you.” one death glare from eren was enough to send the worker running off in fear.

you stayed silent because you knew better than to say anything when he got like this, you were in for it once you got back home.. that’s for sure.

“fuck those shoes, we’re leaving. and as soon as we get in the car i want them shorts off,”

#malora’s works!#req’s 💋#inbox answered <3 #whewww let me know how i did yall idk how i feel about this #plug!eren #plug!eren x reader #aot x reader #aot fluff #aot smut #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #inbox 📥

3K notes · View notes

astrxq · 3 months ago

Note

HERE ME OUT PLEASE Spider-Man!cregan x reader. Cregan bump into reader at school when he is not in disguise and they became from then on, maybe? and meet reader again when he is in disguise (he could save her from being rob or save her while fighting villain.) which they also form a bond. They both sort of develop a crush on each other from then on Cregan is just smitten and reader is just like “I like this Spider-Man dude but I also like this Cregan guy”. Then one day spider!Cregan is injured and come to reader for help and reveal himself as Cregan. He confess to her that he just inlove with her since day one. Overall just fluff and cliché stuff.

(I’m srsly sorry if I made no sense at all😭🙏)

Between Masks and Moments

spider-man!cregan x reader

words: 13.5k

notes: this was longer than i intended it to be 😭 i thought i was about 6k words in and when i checked the word count it was already at 12k… but i hope you like it!

The first time you truly noticed Cregan Stark, it was because he nearly knocked you off your feet.

As you rounded the corner of the science building, lost in thought about the upcoming lecture, you collided with something solid. No, not something – someone. Your books tumbled to the ground, pages fluttering in the damp breeze, and you stumbled backward, nearly losing your footing.

"Oh, shit," a deep voice muttered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up, ready to brush off the apology with a quick 'no problem,' but the words died in your throat. Standing before you was Cregan Stark, the quiet, brooding guy from your biochemistry class. He was already crouching down, gathering your scattered belongings with large, careful hands.

You'd never been this close to him before. Sure, you'd stolen glances during lectures, admiring his strong jawline and the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he took notes. But now, mere inches away, you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the slight stubble on his chin that gave him a rugged appearance.

"It's okay," you finally managed to say, kneeling down to help him. "I wasn't really paying attention either."

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before quickly darting away. Was that a hint of a blush on his cheeks? No, it had to be the chill in the air.

"Here," he said, handing you your books. His voice was gruff, almost annoyed, but there was a gentleness in the way he handled your things that contradicted his tone. "Sorry again."

You took the books from him, your fingers accidentally brushing against his. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, and you quickly pulled your hand back. "Thanks," you murmured.

Cregan stood up, and you couldn't help but notice how he towered over you. You'd always known he was tall, but up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the entire world behind him.

You straightened up, clutching your books to your chest, and for a moment, you were both frozen in the narrow hallway, caught in a strange, tense silence. Cregan shifted his weight, his brow furrowing even more, as if he was trying to decide whether to say something else or just walk away.

He settled on the former.

"You're in my biochem class, right?" His tone was still a bit gruff, but there was an underlying softness.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up. "Yeah, I am. You're Cregan, right?"

He gave a short, almost reluctant nod. "Yeah."

There was another pause, and you felt the awkwardness creeping in. But before it could fully take hold, Cregan surprised you by speaking again.

"Do you need help with that stuff?" He glanced at the stack of books in your arms, his expression hard to read.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. "I mean, if you're not in a hurry, I wouldn't mind."

Cregan exhaled a short breath, almost like a sigh, but he reached out anyway, taking half the books from your arms. His hands were warm and strong, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to hold them longer, to feel that warmth without the excuse of fallen books.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice softer now, less annoyed. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, something almost shy, though you'd never describe Cregan Stark as shy.

"The library," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was going to study before the next class."

Cregan gave another one of those short nods and started walking beside you, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace. As you walked together, the silence between you wasn't as awkward as you'd expected. In fact, it was almost comfortable, as if Cregan's brooding presence somehow grounded you, made the chaotic noise of the school fade into the background.

When you reached the library, you stopped by one of the tables near the back, where it was quiet and the light was softer. Cregan set your books down, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at them, then at you, like he was debating something in his head.

"Thanks for helping me out," you said, breaking the silence.

Cregan's eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was that flicker of something again – a hint of warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "See you in class."

You watched as he turned to leave, his broad back disappearing into the rows of bookshelves. It was only after he was gone that you realized you were still holding your breath. There was something about Cregan Stark that made your heart beat just a little faster, something that lingered in your thoughts long after he'd walked away.

As you sat down to study, you found it hard to focus. Your mind kept drifting back to the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you, the way his voice had gentled, just for a moment.

For Cregan, that collision in the hallway was both a dream come true and his worst nightmare.

He'd noticed you on the first day of class, drawn to your quiet intelligence and the way your eyes lit up when you understood a particularly difficult concept. Over the weeks, he'd found himself stealing glances at you during lectures, admiring the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating, or how you'd bite your lip when you were deep in thought.

But Cregan had never allowed himself to entertain the possibility of actually talking to you. His life was complicated enough without adding romantic entanglements to the mix. Between his duties as Spider-Man, his studies, and the constant struggle to make ends meet, he'd convinced himself that he didn't have time for a relationship. Besides, he reasoned, what could he possibly offer someone like you?

So he'd contented himself with admiring you from afar, treasuring those small moments of connection when you'd make eye contact across the lecture hall or exchange polite nods in the hallway. He told himself it was enough, that his crush was just a harmless distraction from the weight of his responsibilities.

But now, as he walked away from the library, his heart was pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his spider-enhanced physiology. The memory of your touch, brief as it was, sent electricity coursing through his veins. The scent of your shampoo lingered in his nostrils, and he couldn't shake the image of your eyes looking up at him, wide with surprise and something else... interest, maybe?

Cregan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was a chemistry lab to prepare for, and after that, he had to patrol the city. The weight of his responsibilities settled back onto his shoulders, and he felt his expression harden into its usual brooding mask.

But as he pushed open the door to the science building, he couldn't help but glance back towards the library. For the first time in a long while, Cregan allowed himself to wonder: what if?

_________

The next few days passed in a blur of lectures, lab work, and late-night patrols. You found yourself paying more attention to Cregan in class, noticing things you'd overlooked before. The way his brow furrowed when he was concentrating, the slight twitch of his lips when the professor made a particularly bad science pun, the graceful strength in his hands as he manipulated lab equipment.

Sometimes, you caught him looking at you too. His gaze would quickly dart away, but not before you noticed a softness in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his usual gruff demeanor. It made you wonder what was going on behind that brooding exterior.

You'd exchanged a few more words since your collision – a quiet "hey" as you took your seats, a muttered "thanks" when he held the door for you. Each time, you felt a little thrill of... something. Anticipation? Curiosity? You couldn't quite put your finger on it.

It was Friday evening when everything changed.

The streets were unusually quiet for a Friday night. Most people were already indoors, safe from the impending downpour. You turned down a narrow alley, a familiar shortcut you often took when in a hurry. The light from the streetlamps barely penetrated the shadows here, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You told yourself it was just your imagination, that the looming storm and the empty streets were playing tricks on your mind.

But as you reached the halfway point of the alley, you heard it – a soft rustling, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickened your pace, your breath catching in your throat.

"Hey, where are you heading so fast?" a voice called out. You didn’t dare look back, your instincts screaming at you to keep moving.

The footsteps grew closer, the tension wrapping around you like a vice. You were almost at the end of the alley when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead, blocking your path. He was tall, with a lean, wiry build and a predatory grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice mockingly sweet. The way he stood, arms loose at his sides, suggested a confidence that chilled you to the bone. You were trapped.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but the options were grim. You could scream, but who would hear you? Your phone was buried in your bag, useless in the face of such immediate danger.

As the man stepped closer, you took a shaky step back, only to feel a solid wall of muscle behind you. Another one, you realized with a sinking heart. You were cornered.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for whatever was to come. But before the situation could escalate, a sound split the air – a sharp, almost imperceptible *thwip*.

And then, everything happened at once.

A blur of red and blue dropped down from above, moving with a speed and precision that left you breathless. The man behind you was yanked away, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he was thrown against the wall, his hands and feet bound by sticky webbing. The other barely had time to react before he too was disarmed and pinned to the ground, a web cocoon forming around him in seconds.

You stood frozen, eyes wide with shock, as Spider-Man – the Spider-Man – landed lightly in front of you. His eyes, hidden behind those iconic white lenses, seemed to scan you for any sign of injury. The air around you crackled with tension, but now it was a different kind – the kind that came with knowing you were safe, even if only for the moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably concerned.

You nodded numbly, unable to find your voice. Up close, Spider-Man was even more imposing than you’d imagined, but there was something comforting in his presence, something that made the terror of the last few minutes begin to ebb away.

"Good," he said, his tone gentle now. He hesitated, moving to place a hand on your arm but not quite reaching you before he pulled back. “Do you need water or something?”

You glanced at the two thugs, now securely webbed to the walls, and couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief. You’d been saved by Spider-Man – a hero who was as much a myth as he was a reality in your mind. Unable to find your voice, you shook your head.

"Thank you," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky but sincere.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying you. "It’s no problem. But it’s not safe to be out here alone, especially this late. Do you need a lift home?"

The offer caught you off guard. A lift home? With Spider-Man?

You hesitated, then nodded. "That...that would be great."

Without another word, Spider-Man stepped closer, slipping an arm around your waist with surprising ease, as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Your heart raced – not from fear, but from the sudden closeness, the way his presence seemed to envelop you.

"Hold on tight," he instructed, his voice calm and reassuring.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he shot a web into the night sky and the ground disappeared beneath you. You clung to him instinctively, your eyes squeezing shut as the wind rushed past your face, cool and refreshing in the humid night air.

All too soon, after you’d instructed him the way to your home, the flight ended as Spider-Man landed gracefully on the fire escape outside your apartment window. He set you down gently, his arm lingering around your waist for just a second longer than necessary before he pulled away.

"Home sweet home," he quipped, his tone light.

You took a step back, trying to steady your breath. "Thank you," you said again, your voice softer this time. "Really, I don’t know how to repay you."

Spider-Man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he seemed to hesitate, as if debating something internally. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Mind if I hang out here for a bit? The view’s not bad."

You blinked in surprise. Was Spider-Man asking to stay? With you? The night was full of surprises, it seemed.

"Sure," you said, moving towards the window and gesturing for him to follow. "I’ve never had a guest on my fire escape before."

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a strange warmth through you. "First time for everything."

You both settled onto the metal platform, the city spread out before you like a living, breathing canvas. The air was cool now, the storm holding off for just a little longer, and for a moment, you simply sat there in silence, letting the night speak for itself.

"You live here alone?" he asked after a while, his voice quieter now, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at him. His mask hid his expression, but there was a certain softness in the way he held himself, a relaxation you hadn’t expected. "It’s not much, but it’s home."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "It must get lonely sometimes."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, but either way, you felt an odd connection in that moment, a shared understanding of what it meant to be alone in a city full of people.

"Sometimes," you admitted, your gaze drifting back to the city skyline. "But I guess that’s just part of life, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the breeze. "Part of life."

For a while longer, you both sat there, the city a quiet hum in the background. And in that silence, there was a comfort, a sense of companionship that neither of you had expected but both seemed to need.

“Do you want pizza?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. At the mention of food, his head shot up.

“You’ve got pizza?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Yeah, I do. It’s leftover from earlier. It’s probably cold by now, but–”

Spider-Man’s enthusiasm seemed to overflow. “Cold pizza is fine! In fact, it’s the best kind of pizza!”

You laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air. It felt strange, yet oddly comforting, to share such a simple moment with someone who seemed so larger-than-life.

“Alright then, let me grab it,” you said, moving toward the window. As you opened it and stepped inside, you could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you.

You retrieved the pizza from the fridge, the box still warm from its earlier stint in the oven. Returning to the fire escape, you offered it to Spider-Man with a shy, almost playful grin.

“Here you go,” you said, handing over the box. “Cold pizza and all.”

He took it eagerly, setting it down beside him on the metal ledge.

You took a seat next to him, the cool metal beneath you grounding you after the adrenaline of the earlier encounter. The city lights below twinkled like stars, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening seemed to fade away.

Spider-Man popped open the pizza box, revealing a slightly congealed but still appetizing array of toppings. He pulled out a slice with deft movements and took a large bite, pulling up his mask just enough for you to not be able to make out his identity, his mask making the act look both humorous and oddly endearing.

"So," Spider-Man said as he took another bite, "late night at the library?"

You blinked, surprised by the casual conversation. "How did you know?"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "The stack of textbooks in your bag was a pretty big clue.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the distant rumble of thunder as the storm prepared to make its entrance. "I guess I should have guessed you'd notice something like that."

Spider-Man nodded, a playful glint visible in the sliver of his eyes. "It's kind of my thing to notice details. Helps with the whole hero gig."

You bit into a slice of pizza, the cold cheese and slightly chewy crust a comforting contrast to the evening’s chaos. Spider-Man’s relaxed demeanor made it feel like you were just two friends sharing a late-night snack, not someone in need of rescue and the rescuer himself.

"What's your favorite topping?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation to something light.

He looked at the slice in his hand, contemplating. "Pepperoni. Classic choice, but it’s hard to beat."

You grinned. “Pepperoni?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Really? I have to say, bacon is the superior topping.”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened behind his mask, and he mock-gasped, holding his pizza slice up as if it were a shield. “Bacon? How could you betray the classic pepperoni like that?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the fire escape’s metal railing.

“You can’t be serious,” Spider-Man said, feigning outrage. “Pepperoni is a staple. Bacon is great, don’t get me wrong, but it doesn’t hold a candle to a well-cooked pepperoni slice.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling at his animated reaction. “Bacon adds a crispy, savory kick that pepperoni just can’t match. And don’t tell me you haven’t had bacon on pizza before. It’s like a flavor explosion.”

“Flavor explosion?” Spider-Man’s voice was incredulous, but there was a hint of laughter in it. “More like a greasy mess. And don’t get me started on how bacon can overshadow the other toppings. Pepperoni complements the cheese, the sauce – it’s harmonious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Spider-Man’s dramatic reaction. The absurdity of debating pizza toppings with a superhero in the middle of the night struck you as hilariously surreal.

“Oh, come on,” you said, shaking your head. “Bacon doesn’t overshadow. It complements! It’s like having a surprise party on your pizza. You take a bite, and bam! – there’s the crispy, smoky goodness.”

Spider-Man pretended to shudder. “A surprise party?” he chuckled. “Agree to disagree. I’m sticking with my classic.”

You smiled, “I’ll take that as my win.”

You couldn’t quite believe it. There you were, sitting on your fire escape, and locked in a passionate debate about pizza toppings with Spider-Man. Spider-Man. The same superhero who swung through the night, fighting villains and saving lives. And here he was, playfully defending pepperoni against your undying love for bacon.

It felt like a scene plucked from a dream – a surreal interlude where the chaos of the night melted away into a shared moment of absurdity and connection. Inside your tiny apartment, the city was a backdrop, a distant hum of life and noise that barely intruded on this bizarrely intimate conversation.

The superhero was right there, his masked face only partially visible in the dim light, but clearly animated and engaged in a debate over something as trivial as pizza toppings.

"I might have to swing by more often just to change your mind about that pizza."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Oh?" you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Spider-Man tilted his head, and even though you couldn't see his face, you could almost feel the grin behind his mask. "Well," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I could always bring you some properly topped pizza. Show you the error of your bacon-loving ways."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. The thought of Spider-Man swinging by again, just to bring you pizza, seemed both thrilling and strangely domestic.

"I'd like that," you said softly, surprising yourself with your honesty. "Though I think you'll have a hard time converting me."

Spider-Man chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice tinged with a playfulness that made your heart race.

For a moment, you both fell silent, the weight of the evening's events settling back over you. The pizza box lay empty between you, a testament to the strange normalcy you'd managed to carve out of this surreal situation.

Finally, Spider-Man stood, stretching as if preparing to leave. "I should get going. There’s always more to do."

You nodded, a pang of disappointment tugging at your heart. "Thanks again, for everything."

He turned to face you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile beneath his mask. "Anytime," he said, his voice warm. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Before you could answer, he gave a final nod, and in a graceful, practiced motion, he leaped off the fire escape. For a moment, you watched as he soared into the night, his silhouette briefly illuminated by the distant streetlights. Then, with a soft whoosh, he was gone, disappearing into the urban tapestry of lights and shadows.

That night, as you laid in bed, your mind raced with thoughts of both Cregan and Spider-Man. The quiet, brooding boy from your class and the witty, heroic figure who had saved you – they couldn't be more different. And yet, there was something about both of them that drew you in, that made you want to know more.

Little did you know, across the city, Cregan was having similar thoughts about you. As he peeled off his Spider-Man suit, wincing at the bruises from his earlier fight, he couldn't shake the memory of holding you close as he swung through the city. He'd been drawn to you for weeks, admiring you from afar in class. But tonight, he'd gotten a taste of what it might be like to be close to you, to talk to you without the awkwardness that always seemed to plague him as Cregan.

As Spider-Man, he could be confident, even flirtatious. He could say the things he'd always wanted to say to you but never had the courage to. It was liberating, but also terrifying. Because now, more than ever, he wanted to know you, to be close to you. But how could he do that without revealing his secret? How could he be both the Cregan you knew from class and the Spider-Man who had saved you tonight?

_________

The week following your encounter with Spider-Man was a strange blend of normalcy and surreal anticipation. You went about your daily routine – attending classes, studying, grabbing coffee with friends – but there was an undercurrent of excitement, a constant awareness that at any moment, you might spot a flash of red and blue swinging between buildings.

For Cregan, the week was a torturous exercise in self-restraint. Every time he saw you in class or passed you in the hallway, his heart rate spiked. He found himself torn between an overwhelming desire to talk to you and a paralyzing fear of giving himself away.

The first few days, he limited himself to small, careful interactions. A wave as you entered the lecture hall. A nod of acknowledgment when your eyes met across the cafeteria. Each time, he felt a surge of warmth at your answering smile, but he always pulled back before he could do or say anything more.

At night, as he patrolled the city, Cregan found his thoughts constantly drifting back to you. He'd catch himself swinging past your apartment building, telling himself he was just checking to make sure you were safe. But deep down, he knew he was hoping for another chance encounter, another opportunity to talk to you as Spider-Man.

By Thursday, the tension was becoming unbearable. Cregan knew he couldn't keep this up indefinitely. He had to make a decision – either find a way to approach you as Cregan Stark or risk losing any chance of a real connection.

It was Friday afternoon when he finally worked up the courage to act. He spotted you entering the library, arms full of books. Taking a deep breath, Cregan followed you inside.

He watched as you settled at a table near the back, the same spot where he'd left you after your collision the week before. For a moment, he hesitated, second-guessing himself. What if you didn't want to be bothered? What if you preferred the quiet, grumpy Cregan from class and were put off by any attempt at friendliness?

But then he remembered the way you'd laughed with Spider-Man, the easy conversation you'd shared over cold pizza. He wanted that – not just as his masked alter ego, but as himself.

Squaring his shoulders, Cregan approached your table. When you didn’t look up, he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said softly, mindful of the library's quiet atmosphere. "Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Cregan thought you might say no. But then your expression softened into a smile. "Sure," you replied, gesturing to the empty chair next to you as you cleared the table for him. "There's plenty of room."

Cregan sat down, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. Up close, he could see the flecks of color in your eyes, the same ones he'd admired from behind his mask. He cleared his throat, searching for something to say.

"Biochem midterm?" he asked, nodding towards the textbook open in front of you.

You nodded, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "Yeah. I'm still struggling with some of the enzyme kinetics concepts."

Cregan felt a flutter of excitement. This, he could handle. Science was his element, a language he spoke fluently even when words failed him in other areas. "I could help, if you want," he offered, his voice gruff but tinged with genuine eagerness. "I've got a pretty good handle on that stuff."

Your eyes lit up, and Cregan felt his breath catch. "Really? That would be amazing. I've been staring at these diagrams for hours, and they're still not making sense."

As Cregan leaned in to look at your textbook, he felt some of his nervousness begin to ebb away. This was familiar territory – explaining scientific concepts, breaking down complex ideas into simpler parts.

You shifted your chair slightly closer to his, your shoulder brushing against his arm as you both peered down at the open textbook. Cregan felt a jolt of electricity at the contact, his skin tingling where you'd touched. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made his heart race even faster.

He focused on the page, the neatly printed equations and diagrams suddenly feeling more daunting than they'd ever been in his own studies. But you were looking at him expectantly, and Cregan knew he had to push through the nerves that threatened to steal his voice.

"Okay, so," he began, his voice just above a whisper, "enzyme kinetics can be tricky because it’s all about how the enzymes interact with the substrates. Think of it like... a dance. Each enzyme has a specific partner, and the speed of the reaction depends on how well they fit together and move in sync."

You nodded, leaning in closer, your brow furrowed in concentration. Cregan’s eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips pursed slightly as you tried to grasp the concept. He found himself lingering on the curve of your mouth, the soft glow of your skin under the library’s dim lighting.

As he explained further, your questions came, your voice soft and inviting, drawing him deeper into the conversation. Each time you spoke, Cregan’s heart would stutter, your words weaving into the atmosphere between you. He would catch himself staring at your hands as they moved across the page, slender fingers tracing the diagrams he described, and wonder what it would feel like to hold them.

The tension from earlier began to melt away, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of you had expected. Cregan leaned in even closer, his shoulder now pressed fully against yours. You didn’t move away – instead, you tilted your head towards him, so close that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his cheek.

The library seemed to fade around you, the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant shuffle of pages and whispers all but disappearing. It was just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of soft words and shared focus. Cregan felt his guard lowering, the lines between Cregan Stark and Spider-Man blurring as he let himself enjoy this simple, honest moment with you.

Every time you asked a question, Cregan felt a little more of his confidence return. He could see the frustration in your eyes begin to ease, replaced by a spark of understanding that made him want to keep talking, keep sharing this part of himself with you.

Finally, after what felt like both a brief and endless stretch of time, you smiled – a real, bright smile that made something in Cregan’s chest ache with warmth.

“That actually makes sense now. I don’t know how to thank you, Cregan.” you said, leaning back in your chair, though still close enough that your knees brushed his under the table.

Cregan's breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, soft and full of gratitude. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady as he replied, "I’m glad I could help. It’s, uh, nice to talk about this stuff with someone who gets it." His words trailed off into a nervous laugh, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the textbook.

You laughed softly, a sound that made Cregan’s pulse quicken. "Well, I’m lucky to have found the best tutor around," you teased, the warmth in your tone making his cheeks flush.

Cregan’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centering on the impossible closeness of you, the way your laughter wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He wanted to say more, to tell you how much he’d been thinking about you, how every time he saw you, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. But he held back, scared to break the delicate balance of this moment.

Instead, he settled for a simple, "Anytime," the word heavy with everything he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud.

As the silence stretched between you, neither of you moved away. Cregan's hand rested on the edge of the table, fingers inching just a bit closer to where yours lay, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you’d pull away.

But you didn’t.

“Would you tutor me for biochem? I can pay you,”

Your question hung in the air between you, and Cregan’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected you to ask, and the offer of payment made something in him twist uncomfortably. You were offering him something concrete, something logical – an exchange of services – but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not really.

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign that you were asking out of more than just academic need. But all he saw was sincerity, a touch of hopefulness, and maybe, just maybe, something else – a faint flicker of warmth that made him wonder if you felt the same connection he did.

Cregan swallowed hard, feeling the tension rise in his chest. The last thing he wanted was for this to become transactional, something that would reduce your time together to a simple tutor-student dynamic. He didn’t want your money. He wanted your company, your laughter, the way your presence seemed to quiet the rest of the world.

“No, you don’t have to pay me,” he stammered, his voice softer than he intended. “I’d be happy to help. Really. I mean, it’s kind of fun, right? We can just, uh, study together whenever you need. No strings attached.”

The words tumbled out awkwardly, but he meant every one of them. He watched you carefully, nervous about how you’d react. For a split second, he worried that maybe you’d misunderstand – that you’d think he wasn’t taking you seriously, or that he was brushing off your offer.

But then you smiled, a slow, warm curve of your lips that made Cregan’s pulse quicken again. “Are you sure?” you asked, though there was a lightness in your tone now, as if you’d already guessed his answer. “I don’t want to take up your time for nothing.”

Cregan shook his head, his own smile starting to form. “It’s not nothing,” he said, feeling a bit of his confidence return. “Besides, I could use the review too. Biochem’s always easier with someone else to bounce ideas off of.”

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. But I owe you a coffee at least. No arguments. That’s non-negotiable.”

Cregan’s heart soared at the thought of spending more time with you, of sharing something as simple and normal as a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a date – not exactly – but it felt like a step closer to something more, something real. He nodded quickly, eager to accept any excuse to see you outside of class, outside of these quiet, studious moments.

“Deal,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, though he knew he was failing miserably. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck, his nerves returning in full force.

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, charged with an unspoken understanding that went beyond the words you’d exchanged. Cregan’s hand was still on the edge of the table, close to yours, and he wondered if you’d noticed just how near they were.

But before he could overthink it, you shifted slightly, your fingers brushing against his as you adjusted your textbook. It was the smallest of touches, but it sent a shiver up Cregan’s spine, his skin buzzing with the sensation.

“Tomorrow?” you asked, your voice soft but steady. “For the coffee? We can meet after class.”

Cregan nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, feeling like it couldn’t come fast enough. The thought of seeing you again, of sitting across from you with a cup of coffee, made everything else fade into the background.

As he watched you disappear around the corner of a bookshelf, Cregan let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow, to the coffee shop, to the prospect of spending more time with you outside of the confines of the classroom or library.

But as the initial rush of excitement began to fade, a familiar anxiety started to creep in. How was he going to balance this? His life as Cregan Stark, college student and potential friend (maybe more?) to you, with his responsibilities as Spider-Man? What if there was an emergency during their coffee... not-date? What if you started to notice his frequent disappearances, his unexplained bruises?

You found yourself replaying your conversation in your mind, smiling at the memory of his shy smiles and the way his eyes lit up when he talked. There was something about Cregan Stark that intrigued you, a depth that you were eager to explore further.

But as much as Cregan occupied your thoughts, you couldn't shake the memory of your encounter with Spider-Man. The masked hero's wit and charm had left an impression, and you often found yourself glancing up at the sky, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of red and blue swinging between buildings.

It was a week after your encounter when your path crossed with Spider-Man again. You were walking home late, having stayed at the library longer than intended, your mind still buzzing with biochemistry formulas and the lingering warmth of your interactions with Cregan.

The street was quiet, the air cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. You were so lost in thought that you almost missed the soft thud behind you. Almost.

"You know, it's dangerous to walk alone at night," a familiar voice called out, playful but with an undercurrent of concern. "Even in this neighborhood."

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat. There, perched on a nearby lamppost, was Spider-Man, his masked face tilted towards you in a way that suggested he was smiling.

"Are you following me?" a mix of surprise and excitement coloring your voice.

He chuckled, the sound sending a small shiver down your spine. "Just keeping an eye on the city," he replied, his tone light. "But I have to admit, I'm glad I ran into you again. How've you been?"

You couldn't help but smile, the tension in your shoulders easing. "I've been good," you said, taking a step closer to the lamppost. "No more late-night alley adventures, if that's what you're asking."

Spider-Man laughed again, dropping down from the lamppost to stand in front of you. Even with the mask, you could sense his amusement. "Good to hear. Though I have to say, I was hoping for an excuse to swoop in and save the day again."

There was something in his voice, a hint of flirtation that made your pulse quicken. You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Oh? And here I thought you had plenty of other damsels in distress to rescue."

"Ah, but none quite as intriguing as you," he quipped, his head tilting in a way that made you wonder what expression he was wearing beneath the mask.

You felt a blush creep up your neck, thankful for the dim streetlight that probably hid it. "Intriguing, huh? I'm not sure whether to be flattered or worried."

Spider-Man took a step closer, and you were suddenly very aware of his presence, the way he seemed to radiate a mix of confidence and nervous energy. "Definitely flattered," he said, his voice softer now. "Trust me, it takes a lot to catch a spider's attention."

You laughed, the sound slightly breathless. "Well, consider me honored then," you replied, surprised by your own boldness. "Though I have to say, you're pretty intriguing yourself, Spider-Man."

He seemed to stand a little straighter at that, and you could almost imagine the grin behind his mask. "Oh yeah? Care to elaborate on that?"

You pretended to consider for a moment, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "I hear you have excellent taste in pizza toppings."

Spider-Man laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, so my reputation precedes me. Though I still maintain that pepperoni is superior to bacon."

You gasped in mock offense. "And here I thought we were getting along so well. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Maybe I could change your mind," he said, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of something more. You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen the pizza box he was hiding behind his back until he held it up. “Might just change your mind.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the pizza box. "You brought pizza? Were you planning this encounter, Spider-Man?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

He shrugged, the movement oddly graceful. "Let's just say I had a hunch I might run into you. And I never pass up an opportunity to prove the superiority of pepperoni."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, far be it from me to turn down free pizza. But where exactly are we going to eat it? I don't think the sidewalk is the most romantic spot for a pizza date."

The word 'date' slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. Spider-Man seemed to pause for a moment, and you wondered if he was blushing too, beneath that mask.

"Date, huh?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. "Well, if it's romance you're after, I think I know just the spot. Do you trust me?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm not sure if I should trust a man in a mask, but..."

Spider-Man stepped closer, and your breath caught in your throat. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice low and warm.

Before you could fully process what was happening, his arm was around your waist, pulling you close against his side. You barely had time to wrap your arms around his neck before he shot a web upwards, and suddenly, you were airborne.

The city rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows, the cool night air whipping past you. You clung tightly to Spider-Man, your heart racing from a mixture of adrenaline and proximity. His body was warm and solid against yours, and even through the suit, you could feel the strength in his arms as he held you securely.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you landed softly on a rooftop. Spider-Man gently set you down, his hand lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary.

"You okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, slightly breathless. "Yeah, I'm... wow. That was incredible."

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you gasped softly. The rooftop offered a stunning view of the city skyline, lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way you'd never experienced the city before.

"This is amazing," you said softly, turning to look at Spider-Man. "How did you find this place?"

He shrugged, setting the pizza box down on a nearby ledge. "I swing by a lot of rooftops. This one's always been a favorite. It's quiet, and the view... well, it speaks for itself."

You nodded in agreement, moving to sit on the ledge next to the pizza box. Spider-Man joined you, his movements fluid and graceful.

"So," he said, opening the box and revealing a steaming pepperoni pizza, "ready to have your mind changed about the ultimate pizza topping?"

You laughed, reaching for a slice. "We'll see about that. I'm not easily swayed."

As you both ate, you fell into easy conversation. Spider-Man was witty and charming, his jokes making you laugh even as you rolled your eyes. But there were moments, brief flashes when his voice would soften or he'd tilt his head in a certain way, that reminded you startlingly of Cregan.

You pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the surreal experience of sharing pizza on a rooftop with a superhero. As the night wore on and the pizza dwindled, you found yourself relaxing, leaning slightly closer to Spider-Man.

"Okay," you admitted finally, "I have to say, this pepperoni pizza is pretty good."

Spider-Man pumped his fist in victory. "I knew it! Another convert to the pepperoni side."

You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Don't get too cocky. I still maintain that bacon has its merits."

He turned to face you, and even though you couldn't see his eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying to convince you," he said softly.

His words hung in the air between you, charged with an energy that made your heart race. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by the warmth of his presence and the intimacy of the moment.

"Is that a promise?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spider-Man's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to you, but he caught himself. "It might be," he replied, his tone a mix of playfulness and something deeper, more sincere. "If you're interested in more rooftop pizza, that is."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I might be," you echoed his words, your eyes never leaving his masked face. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not easily won over. It might take a lot of convincing."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I'm up for the challenge."

For a moment, you both sat in comfortable silence, the city sprawling out beneath you like a living, breathing entity. The cool night air carried the faint sounds of traffic and distant sirens, reminding you of the world beyond this rooftop.

"Can I ask you something?" you said finally, turning to face him fully.

Spider-Man nodded, his posture shifting to give you his full attention. "Shoot."

You hesitated, wondering if you were crossing a line. "What's it like? Being... you? Having all this power, this responsibility?"

He was quiet for a long moment, and you worried you'd overstepped. But then he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's... complicated," he said finally. "It's exhilarating, knowing I can make a difference, save lives. But it's also terrifying. There's always the fear of not being fast enough, strong enough. Or, well – death."

His honesty caught you off guard. You'd expected a quip, maybe a lighthearted deflection. Instead, you got a glimpse of the person behind the mask, vulnerable and achingly human.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. "That sounds incredibly difficult," you said softly. "But for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job. This city is lucky to have you."

Spider-Man looked down at your hand, then back up to your face. Even through the mask, you could sense the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "That... means a lot."

You smiled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before pulling your hand back. As you did, you couldn't help but notice the firm muscles beneath the suit, the strength coiled just beneath the surface.

Clearing your throat, you looked back out at the city, trying to calm your racing heart. "So, um, do you bring all the girls you save up here for pizza, or am I special?" you asked, aiming for a teasing tone to lighten the mood.

Spider-Man laughed, the sound lighter now. "Oh, definitely special," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully. "It's not every day I meet someone who can challenge my pizza topping supremacy."

You grinned, feeling the tension ease. "Well, I'm honored.”

Before you could dwell on it, a distant siren pierced the night air. Spider-Man's head snapped towards the sound, his body tensing.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back to you with obvious reluctance. "I have to..."

You nodded, understanding. "Go," you said softly. "It’s okay, I’ll find my way back."

He stood, hesitating for a moment. Then, in a move that surprised you both, he reached out and squeezed your hand gently. "Thanks for... this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the rooftop, the remnants of your pizza dinner. "It was nice to just be... me for a while."

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the warmth of his hand on yours. "Anytime, Spider-Man," you replied, meaning it more than you'd expected to.

With a final nod, he stepped to the edge of the roof. "Hold on tight," he said, and before you could ask what he meant, he had scooped you up in his arms.

The journey back to street level was a blur of exhilaration and barely suppressed laughter. When your feet touched the ground, you felt oddly bereft, missing the warmth of his arms around you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Would you want to do this again? I mean, maybe not the rooftop pizza – " you laughed lightly, “ – but just, you know, hanging out. Talking. I like it. I like… getting to know you."

He seemed to pause, his head tilting slightly as if he was considering something. Then he nodded. "I’d like that," he said, his tone softer, almost hesitant.

You found yourself smiling, a real one that reached your eyes, as you nodded back. "Great. Maybe... Thursday? Same time? We could meet on the fire scape, like last time.”

He mirrored your smile, though his was a little crooked, like he wasn't used to showing it. "Thursday works."

Neither of you moved to leave just yet. There was a comfortable silence that hung between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. The cool breeze tousled your hair, and you felt the weight of the evening settle in, a sense of contentment mixing with the anticipation of what was to come.

But eventually, reality seeped back in. He straightened, his hand gripping the railing as if grounding himself before he stepped back.

"Stay safe," Spider-Man said, already preparing to swing away.

"You too," you called after him, watching as he disappeared into the night sky.

As you made your way home, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The quiet, brooding Cregan Stark and the charming, mysterious Spider-Man occupied equal space in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever about your own feelings.

As Cregan swung through the city, responding to the siren's call, he couldn't shake the memory of your smile, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the way you'd spoken about him.

He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but in that moment, with the wind rushing past him and the city spread out below, Cregan couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of the evening he'd just shared with you.

_________

Cregan’s fingers drummed repeatedly on the paper cup in front of him. Your notes were scattered over the table, formulas and equations that had been giving you grief for days now.

He glanced up from the problem you were stuck on, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Let’s go over it one more time. You’re getting tripped up in the same spot.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the frustration that had been building all week. “I know, it’s just… it doesn’t make sense in my head. I don’t see the connection.”

Cregan paused, his fingers halting their drumming. He leaned in slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a reassuring smile.

“You’re overthinking it. You’ve got the basics down, you just need to trust yourself. Here,” Cregan pointed to a specific equation on your notes, his fingers brushing lightly against the paper as he spoke.

"See here? This is where you’re losing the thread. You’re thinking too far ahead instead of focusing on this step. Just break it down."

His voice was calm, steady, almost like a grounding force that pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded, trying to absorb his advice. There was something about the way he explained things that made it easier to understand, like he knew exactly where you were getting lost and how to guide you back.

You worked through the problem again, this time more slowly, following his guidance. Cregan watched you intently, his gaze unwavering, as if he could tell you would find the answer just by being there. And then, finally, it clicked.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the solution suddenly clear as day. “I get it now. It was just that one step throwing me off.”

A small smile tugged at Cregan’s lips, the kind of smile that was rare from him, but when it appeared, it felt like the sun breaking through clouds. “Told you. You’ve got this.”

You grinned back, the weight of your earlier frustration lifting. “Thanks, Cregan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. “You’d figure it out eventually. I’m just here to make it easier.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence that settled between you as you sipped your coffee. Outside, people bustled by, unaware of the quiet connection forming at your little table in the café.

You glanced at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the coffee. “You know, you’re really good at this. Helping people, I mean.”

Cregan looked almost embarrassed by the compliment, his gaze dropping to his cup. “I just… I like helping you. That’s all.”

His words hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. You felt your heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the moment stretch out between you, full of unspoken things.

Eventually, Cregan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, uh, you ready for the next problem?”

You nodded, grateful for the distraction but also for the time you had with him, these small moments that seemed to mean more than you could fully understand.

As you worked through the next set of problems, you found yourself more attuned to Cregan’s presence than the equations in front of you. His focus was sharp, eyes scanning your notes with an intensity that seemed out of place for something as mundane as math. Yet, that intensity was what made him so good at this, at seeing what you missed and guiding you through it.

You started the conversation, your voice warm and inviting. "So, Cregan, what else should I know about you? Besides being a whiz at biochem, that is."

Cregan felt a flush creep up his neck at your teasing tone. "I, uh, not much, really," he mumbled, his eyes darting around the coffee shop before settling back on you. "I'm kind of a boring guy, to be honest."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Somehow, I doubt that," you said, leaning forward slightly.

Cregan's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he looked away, a faint smile breaking his usual reserved expression. “Well,” he started, his voice low and thoughtful, “I guess I’m into photography. It’s more of a hobby, but it helps me clear my head sometimes.”

You leaned in closer, intrigued by this small revelation. “Photography? That’s really cool. What do you like to photograph?”

Cregan shrugged, a little more at ease now that the focus was off the math and on something more personal. “Mostly cityscapes. Sometimes, I’ll catch the sunrise or sunset if I’m up early – or late – enough. I like capturing moments that people usually overlook.”

There was something almost poetic about the way he spoke, as if he saw the world in a different light, a way that made you want to see it through his eyes. “That sounds… peaceful,” you replied, trying to imagine him in those quiet moments, camera in hand.

“Yeah, it is.” Cregan paused, as if considering how much more to share. “It’s… calming.”

You smiled, feeling a new level of connection with him. “I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

His eyes flicked back to you, surprised. “You would?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice earnest. “I think it’d be amazing to see the world through your perspective.”

Cregan hesitated, but there was a softness in his expression, a slight warmth that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe I could show you, then. If you’re really interested.”

“I am,” you assured him, your tone gentle yet firm. “I really am.”

The conversation took on a new rhythm after that, a quieter, more personal tone as you both opened up, bit by bit. Cregan asked about your own interests, your goals, the things that made you tick outside of the classroom. He listened intently, his focus unwavering, and even though his responses were often short and to the point, they were always thoughtful, as if he was carefully choosing each word.

You talked about books you loved, places you wanted to visit, dreams you had for the future. And in turn, Cregan shared more about himself – his love for science, his fascination with how things worked, and the quiet joy he found in those moments when he could just be himself, away from the pressures of school and life.

As the afternoon stretched into early evening, the café started to empty out, the bustle of the day giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. The baristas began their end-of-day routines, but you and Cregan remained, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

At some point, your hands brushed across the table, and though it was brief, it felt like a spark of electricity passed between you. Cregan didn’t pull away, and neither did you. Instead, you both let the touch linger for just a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the growing bond that was forming.

Finally, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the café floor, you realized it was time to go. You packed up your notes, the weight of the day’s work feeling lighter than it had before.

“Thanks for today,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”

Cregan stood as well, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Anytime,” he said softly. “Same time next week?”

“Definitely,” you replied, smiling at him. “And maybe we can talk more about photography, too.”

Cregan’s smile returned, shy but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As you walked out of the café together, the evening air cool and refreshing, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted between you and Cregan. It was subtle, a quiet deepening of the connection you shared, but it was there, undeniable and strong.

You parted ways after Cregan insisted on walking you home and you refused, he opted for telling you to text him when you were at your door. His cheeks burnt red when he read the screen, with your newly added number and a ‘home ;)’text.

Cregan's phone buzzed again, and his heart leapt, wondering if it was another message from you. But as he looked at the screen, his expression darkened. It was a news alert: a robbery in progress just a few blocks away.

He hesitated, torn between the urge to respond and the desire to hold onto the warmth of the afternoon for just a little longer. But he knew he couldn't ignore it. With a sigh, Cregan ducked into a nearby alley, quickly changing into the suit he always kept with him.

As he swung through the city, the cool night air whipping past him, Cregan couldn't help but think about you. About the way your eyes had lit up when he explained a particularly tricky concept, about the soft brush of your fingers against his as you reached for your coffee cup. He thought about the promise of next week, of more conversations about photography and life and all the things that made you both who you were.

The robbery was dealt with quickly – a couple of petty thieves who were more surprised to see Spider-Man than they were prepared to fight him. As Cregan webbed them up for the police, he found himself wondering what you would think if you could see him now. Would you be impressed? Scared? Would it change the way you looked at him?

By the time Cregan made it back to his apartment, it was late. He collapsed onto his bed, still in his suit, feeling the familiar ache of exertion in his muscles. But as he closed his eyes, it wasn't the faces of the criminals he'd caught that he saw. It was your smile, the way you'd leaned in close as he explained a problem, the warmth in your voice when you'd said goodbye.

His phone buzzed one more time, and Cregan reached for it, his heart racing. It was you.

‘thanks again for today. you really are my hero when it comes to biochem.’

Then another.

‘see you in class!’

Cregan read the message several times, his thumb hovering over the reply button. He wanted to say so much – about how much he'd enjoyed spending time with you, how he was already looking forward to next week, how beautiful you looked, how you made him feel like just Cregan, not Spider-Man or anyone else.

In the end, he settled for something simple: ‘Anytime. I had a great time too. Can't wait for next week.’

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Balancing his life as Cregan Stark with his duties as Spider-Man was already a constant struggle. Adding a potential relationship to the mix would only complicate things further. But as he remembered the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes had met his across the coffee shop table, Cregan found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, patrols, and stolen glances across lecture halls. Every time Cregan saw you, his heart would do a little flip in his chest. Sometimes you'd catch his eye and smile, a small, secret gesture that felt like it was just for him. Other times, you'd be deep in conversation with friends or buried in a textbook, and Cregan would find himself watching you from afar, marveling at the way you moved through the world.

In class, Cregan found himself hyper-aware of your presence. He'd catch himself stealing glances at you, watching the way you chewed on your pen when you were thinking hard about a problem, or the way you'd tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you leaned over your notes. More than once, he nearly missed a question from the professor, too distracted by the simple fact of your nearness.

But it wasn't just in class that you occupied his thoughts. As Spider-Man, swinging through the city at night, Cregan found himself taking routes that would bring him past your apartment building. He told himself it was just to make sure you were safe, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was a way of feeling close to you, even when he couldn't be Cregan Stark.

As Cregan swung away into the night, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had to give. He couldn't keep living these two separate lives, couldn't keep holding you at arm's length while simultaneously yearning to be closer. But what was the alternative? To tell you the truth and risk everything? To walk away and protect you from the dangers that came with being close to Spider-Man?

He didn't have the answers. But as he made his way back to his own apartment, Cregan knew one thing for certain: he was in deeper than he'd ever intended to be, and there was no easy way out.

_________

As the days passed, you found yourself drawn more and more into Cregan Stark's orbit. What had started as simple tutoring sessions began to evolve into something more. You'd catch yourself looking for him in the crowded hallways between classes, your heart skipping a beat when you'd spot that familiar mop of brown hair.

During your tutoring sessions, you started to linger longer, engaging Cregan in conversations that went far beyond the subject matter at hand. You discovered a shared love of obscure sci-fi movies, and soon found yourself suggesting meetups outside of your usual study time. When you had first asked him to come over to watch a movie, trying to keep your voice casual even as your pulse quickened, Cregan felt like his chest was about to explode.

Cregan seemed both delighted and nervous at these invitations, always accepting with an endearing mix of enthusiasm and awkwardness. You couldn't help but find his slightly fumbling manner charming, so different from the easy confidence you saw in many of your classmates.

But it wasn't just Cregan Stark who was occupying your thoughts. Your encounters with Spider-Man had been increasing in frequency as well. It started innocuously enough - you'd be walking home late from the library and suddenly he'd be there, offering to make sure you got home safely. Or you'd be grabbing a quick bite at a food truck, and he'd swing by, pausing just long enough for a quip and a smile that made your stomach flutter.

These brief encounters slowly became more frequent, more prolonged. Sometimes he'd perch on a nearby rooftop, and you'd find yourself talking for hours, sharing your hopes, your fears, your dreams. There was something freeing about talking to someone whose face you couldn't fully see, whose identity remained a mystery. You found yourself opening up to Spider-Man in ways you never had with anyone else.

As your connection with both Cregan and Spider-Man deepened, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something you were missing, some connection you weren't quite grasping.

The day had been long, stretched out with a kind of silence that felt unnatural. Usually, Cregan would find some way to pop up – whether it was a quick text about a class assignment or a casual joke that made you smile. But the past three days, there was nothing. The hours ticked by, and with each passing minute, a sense of unease settled in your chest.

You missed Cregan, he’d become a constant presence in your life.

The evening of the third day rolled in, you tried to distract yourself with a book, but the words blurred together, your mind too bored and restless to focus. Every so often, you found yourself glancing at your phone, hoping for a message, some sign of Cregan.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across your apartment. You stood by the window, watching the city come to life with its usual rhythm – the distant hum of traffic, the occasional blare of a car horn, the murmur of voices drifting up from the street below. But something felt off, a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite shake.

You were just about to turn away from the window, resigning yourself to another hour of waiting, when a sudden noise broke through the quiet. A thud. Heavy and sharp, it resonated through the walls and made you jump.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you spun toward the sound. It had come from the fire escape just outside your window, the metal groaning slightly under the weight of something – or someone.

With a shaky breath, you approached the window, your hand trembling as you reached for the latch. You hesitated for a moment, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind. Then, slowly, you pushed the window open, the cool evening air rushing in.

And there he was.

Spider-Man.

But not the agile, confident hero you’d seen swinging through the city’s skyline. This Spider-Man was slumped against the railing of your fire escape, his red and blue suit torn and stained with dirt and blood. He was breathing heavily, each breath a ragged gasp, his masked head tilted down as if the effort of holding it up was too much.

“Spider-Man?” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of disbelief and fear.

He didn’t respond at first, his head still bowed, but you could see his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. Panic surged through you as you realized just how badly he was hurt. Without thinking, you climbed out onto the fire escape, the metal cool beneath your hands as you knelt beside him.

“Hey,” you said, louder this time, reaching out to touch his arm. “What happened?”

At your touch, he flinched, his head snapping up. For a moment, you saw the white lenses of his mask narrow, as if he was trying to focus on you through a haze of pain. Then, with a weak, shaky movement, he lifted a gloved hand to his mask, pulling it up just enough to reveal the lower half of his face.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw it – Cregan’s familiar jawline, his lips cracked and dry, blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. His eyes, half-hidden behind the mask, were glazed with exhaustion and pain.

“Cregan,” you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Fear and worry tangled in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could barely recognize the boy who’d sat beside you in the library just a few weeks before, explaining enzyme kinetics with a shy smile. Now, he looked so vulnerable, so fragile, it was almost unbearable.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost too quiet to hear. His attempt at a smile faltered, his lips trembling. “Sorry... didn’t mean to drop in unannounced.”

You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Cregan, what happened? You’re hurt – Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

He winced as he tried to shift, his hand tightening on the railing. “Just... ran into some trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Just... just need a minute.”

But it was clear that he needed more than just a minute. His skin was pale beneath the grime, and when he tried to move again, his body sagged against the railing, his strength all but gone.

“Cregan, you need help,” you said, your voice urgent as you scanned his injuries, not knowing where to start. You could see the gash on his side, the dark stain of blood seeping through the fabric of his suit. “You can’t stay out here – come inside, please.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but another wave of pain seemed to wash over him, cutting off his words. You didn’t wait for him to argue. With gentle hands, you slipped your arm around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to support his weight.

“Come on,” you urged softly, “I’ve got you.”

With a groan, Cregan let you help him to his feet, his body heavy and unsteady against yours. Together, you managed to maneuver him through the window and into your apartment, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

You guided him to the couch, easing him down onto the cushions with as much care as you could manage. He slumped back, his head lolling to the side as he tried to stay conscious. You could see the strain in his face, the way his eyes fluttered open and shut as he fought against the overwhelming exhaustion.

“I’m gonna get some supplies,” you whispered, brushing a hand across his forehead. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Cregan’s hand caught yours as you started to pull away, his grip weak but desperate. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes met yours, filled with a depth of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You squeezed his hand gently, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll be right back.”

As you hurried to gather what you needed – first aid kit, towels, anything that might help – you couldn’t shake the image of Cregan lying there, hurt and vulnerable. This was the same boy who’d laughed with you over coffee, who’d explained complex science with an ease that belied his own brilliance. The same boy who now sat on your couch, barely holding on.

When you returned, Cregan’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow but steady. You knelt beside him, your hands trembling as you began to clean his wounds, doing your best to be gentle. Each time he flinched or winced, your heart clenched, wishing you could take the pain away, even if just a little.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as you worked.

Cregan didn’t answer right away, his lips pressed together as you dabbed at the cut on his side. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice rough and tired. “Missed you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you paused, meeting his gaze. “Cregan,”

The words seemed to hang in the air between you, thick with emotion. Cregan’s eyes softened, his expression crumbling into something raw and unguarded. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to drag you into this... but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your heart ached for him, and without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. “You’re not dragging me into anything, Cregan. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if trying to draw strength from your presence. For a long moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled in a web of trust and unspoken feelings, holding on to each other in the quiet safety of your small apartment.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into your touch, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain etched into his features.

“Hey, don’t look so worried,” he murmured, his voice soft but with a familiar hint of playfulness. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got this whole… accelerated healing thing going on. Perks of the job.”

You tried to smile back, but the worry still lingered in your eyes. “I know, but that doesn’t make seeing you like this any easier.” Your voice wavered slightly, and Cregan’s hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on, don’t I always bounce back?” he said, trying to inject some of that Spider-Man charm into his voice, though it came out weaker than usual.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured at your silence, his voice a rough whisper, as if he was trying to convince both of you. “I... I heal fast. It just takes some time.”

You frowned, your hand still cradling his face as you studied the cuts and bruises that marred his skin. “Fast or not, you’re hurt, Cregan. Let me help.”

He managed a small, weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was full of appreciation. “You’re already helping.”

You started with the worst of his injuries, cleaning the gash on his side with careful, deliberate movements. He hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let out a shaky breath and tried to relax, his eyes fixed on your face as if drawing strength from your presence.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how you could be so kind, so caring, even after seeing him like this. The world knew Spider-Man as a hero, invincible and strong, but here he was, laid bare and vulnerable, and yet you didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. Instead, you stayed, your hands steady as you patched him up, your heart open and unafraid.

Once you’d finished with the worst of the injuries, you turned your attention to the smaller cuts and bruises, dabbing at the dried blood on his cheek, his neck, his hands. The silence between you was comfortable now, filled with the quiet rustle of bandages and the soft rhythm of your breathing.

Cregan’s eyes drifted shut as you worked, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing gently over a bruise on his temple. “You don’t have to apologize, Cregan. I’m just glad you came here, that you trusted me.”

His eyes opened again, and this time, there was a softness in them that made your heart ache. “Of course, I trust you,” he said, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I just... I didn’t want you to see me like this. Didn’t want you to think...”

He trailed off, struggling to find the right words. But you understood what he was trying to say, the fear that had been gnawing at him, the worry that you might see him differently now that you knew the truth.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile, your hand still resting on his cheek.

He closed his eyes again, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored. You could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on him, the way his body sagged against the cushions, his strength nearly spent.

“Get some rest,” you urged softly, your fingers brushing through his hair in a soothing gesture. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe.”

Cregan nodded, his breathing evening out as he let the exhaustion take over. His hand found yours, his grip weak but steady, and he held on as if afraid to let go.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the tension in Cregan’s body began to ease, his breathing becoming slower, deeper. The silence in the room was peaceful, broken only by the faint sounds of the city beyond the window. You stayed beside him, your hand still holding his, your thumb brushing gently over the back of his knuckles in a soothing rhythm, trying to also calm yourself down.

Then, just as you thought he’d fallen asleep, Cregan’s voice broke the quiet, a soft murmur that tugged at your heart. “I missed you these last few days,” he whispered, his eyes still closed, as if the words were pulled from him in a moment of vulnerability.

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice just as soft, filled with all the things you hadn’t been able to say. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been waiting for this moment, for the chance to be close to him again, until now.

Cregan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. There was something raw in his gaze, a mix of relief and longing that you hadn’t seen before, something that made the air between you crackle with unspoken emotion.

“I kept thinking about you,” he continued, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung in the air. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made it impossible to ignore, a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the bruises and cuts marring his face.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and dry from days of struggle, curled into a weak but genuine smile. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion but alive with a mix of mischief and longing, met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, “since you’re already being so kind and caring, maybe… just maybe… a kiss for the wounded hero?” He tried to make light of his condition, the playful tone in his voice belying the pain he was in.

Your lips twitched into a small, incredulous smile despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You could see the effort it took for him to joke, the way he was clinging to his usual charm even when he was at his most vulnerable.

“I suppose I could,” you said, leaning closer, “if you’re sure it won’t make you faint from excitement.”

Cregan’s laughter was a soft, pained exhale, but it was there, and it was real. “I think I can handle it.”

With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment as you took in the rawness of his expression. He looked at you with such intensity that it felt as if he was seeing right into you, beyond the superficial and straight into the heart of what mattered.

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you closed the distance. His lips were warm and dry against yours, and the kiss was gentle, almost tentative.

Cregan’s lips, cracked and trembling from his injuries, felt delicate beneath yours. Despite his pain, there was a surprising gentleness in his kiss, a fragile vulnerability that made you want to hold him closer. The contact was brief, a fleeting brush of warmth and tenderness, but it was charged with unspoken emotions – fear, hope, and the deep relief of finally being close again.

When you pulled back, you barely heard Cregan’s joke about ordering some good pizza, too focused on his cheeky smile and the few strands of hair that had fallen back to his face.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hotd cregan #cregan fanfiction #cregan x reader #tom taylor #stark x reader #spiderman x reader #spidersona #spiderman #cregan x you #cregan stark oneshot

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helaintoloki · 3 months ago

Note

I need something refreshing after the ending. So may i request oneshot for how Ben and the reader cope with his arrest and incarceration?

warnings: none

notes: sorry it’s a bit short but i hope you enjoy!

summary: you pay ben a visit while he’s stuck in jail

“Hargreeves,” the prison guard’s booming voice calls out before dragging the man out of his cell and towards the visiting room, “someone’s here to see you.”

“Easy, watch the hands,” Ben protests in aggravation as he’s shoved into the scarcely furnished room. The door slams shut harshly behind him, but he doesn’t have time to be annoyed as his focus is soon centered on the woman sitting on the old weathered couch before him.

“Hey, handsome,” you greet with a cheeky smile.

“Thank god you’re here,” he exclaims with a groan of relief before rushing forward to scoop your body off the couch and into his arms. You immediately melt into his embrace and enjoy the sensation of his chest pressed against your own. Having to be apart has been extremely hard on you both, so you do your best to savor every moment of these visits when you can. “This place is a shit hole.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you had just listened to me and not gone through with that stupid Sparrow Coin scheme,” you remind him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and he merely gifts you an annoyed scoff in response.

“Might I remind you we were living large because of Sparrow Coin? It was my scheme that bought you the pair of earrings you’re wearing right now.”

“I’d rather have you over the earrings,” you admit with a careful smile, and Ben can only let out a defeated sigh in response.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was just trying to make sure we had everything we needed for a fresh start in this shitty new timeline,” he professes. His hands reach up to carefully cup your face, his thumbs gently brushing against the skin of your cheeks and committing the feeling to memory. “I promise I’ll be out of here soon, and then we can run away together and start over.”

“I’d like that,” you murmur softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek that Ben is quick to wipe away.

“Just hold on a little longer for me, okay?”

You can only respond with a small nod before he presses a tender kiss to your forehead and pulls you in close to him. It’s going to be a long couple of years, but you’d wait forever if it meant getting to be with the man you love more than anything.

You guys have been through worse, and there isn’t anything in this world that could keep you two apart.

#request #ben hargreeves #sparrow!ben #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben imagine #the umbrella academy #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine

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seonghwaddict · 4 months ago

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ateez's favourite petnames for you

requested by anon. genre. hc, fluff. rating. sfw. warnings. petnames (duh), some are more feminine leaning. wc. 734.

lilo's notes. i'm soso sorry this took me so long to get out T-T

masterlist.

hongjoong

darling. the thought of him using that as a pet name makes me go awooga. idk i feel like it would just sound good in his voice, yk? he can be a tease sometimes too, and i feel like this one has the potential to convey his teasing perfectly while still being cute n stuff. like, he's whispering to you, hugging you from behind in the kitchen as you prepare food or something. or he's entering the house, calling out a soft "darling, i'm home!" AHHHH.

honourable mention: love.

seonghwa

angel. PLEASEEEEE idk it just suits him so well. personally i find the thought of any demon line member using this pet name extra scrumptious, but it's something about seonghwa that just does it for me. he has a gentle and warm voice. waking up to him gently nudging your shoulder, needing to leave early in the morning but not wanting to go without telling you, a soft chuckle as you look up at him in confusion, “sleep well, angel?”

honourable mention: bun/bunny.

yunho

tiny. size difference matters quite a bit to him in a relationship, and he loves pointing it out every chance he gets. he’d say this in a more teasing context, when he’s messing around with you or trying to get you to smile—which is all the time, probably. admiring your face late at night, tangled in each other’s limbs in bed, tired but not wanting to fall asleep just yet as he brushes his fingers against your jawline, “you’re so pretty like this, tiny.”

honourable mention: princess.

yeosang

sweetie/sweetheart. he’s a simple guy, really. anything that makes you smile makes him smile. and seeing the way you grinned the first time he called you that—a simple “hey, sweetie, could you come for a second?” that had you giggling and skipping over to him happily—well, it made him never want to stop calling you sweetie or sweetheart, to say the least.

honourable mention: precious.

san

babe. he would so call his s/o babe i can literally hear it idc argue with the wall. normally i’d convulse (negative) if a man called me babe unironically, but shit he can do that all he wants. anyways. he knows you love it when he calls you any sweet pet name, but his personal favourite is this one. it’s so simple, rolls off his tongue so easily. he’d say it so easily too, calling you and saying something along the lines of, “hey, babe, have you eaten yet? i wanna try this new place i found.” YUPPP

honourable mention: my love.

mingi

doll. i’m a mingi calling you doll enthusiast until the day i die. in every fic i’ve written about his he calls mc doll at least once and that’s exactly how it should be. moving on, i just think he would really love calling you that because it elicits the cutest reaction each time; shyly averted eyes, flushed cheeks. sometimes he likes to throw in a little ‘dolly’ to switch things up a bit, to catch you off guard.

honourable mention: (my) pretty/sweet girl.

wooyoung

babydoll. biggest tease of the century, he definitely has a whole arsenal of cheesy pet names to call you when he wants to be particularly annoying (e.g. “aw what are you pouting for, snookums?” “you’re the best, cupcake!” “my my, you are the apple of my eye,” etc.). but on the rare occasions where he’s not playing around, he likes any variation of baby, particularly babydoll. perhaps his adoration for the name was ignited when he first listened to babydoll by dominic fike, and saw how many times you replayed it, but who knows?

honourable mention: jagi (자기 — honey).

jongho

honey. i call this a double entendre. he doesn’t really use pet names much, but he likes this one because 1. it’s cute, it suits you almost as your actual name. this is a name a husband would use and he’s so husband coded it hurts me. and 2. he really is just a silly guy—and considering he’s often described as a bear, well, then it’s quite self explanatory. massaging your shoulders as he stands behind you, sat on the couch and groaning into your hands after a stressful day at work, his voice low and reassuring, “you always do so well, honey, please don’t worry your pretty little head over it more.”

honourable mention: dear.

networks. @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl

@likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd

@coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime @jjoongstar

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monimccoythings · 2 months ago

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Domestic Old!ManLogan and Laura

Old!ManLogan survives and they just move to a farm. I'm just craving domestic!Logan.

tags: gn!reader, domestic Old!ManLogan.

Words: 377

Logan and Laura play fighting, that's it. He just loves to rile her up, because he's a little bastard and she's too much like him. She will launch herself at him and try to bite, while Logan loses his shit.

Logan's healing seems to be recovering well. He will no longer be the man he was in his prime, of course, but at least you don't have to constantly worry about him getting gunshot wounds.

Laura will follow you around like a duckling, she imprinted on you very quickly. You are her parent there's no room for discussion. You love that girl to bits and would give her the moon if you could.

Sometimes Logan likes to lift her to keep her away from you because he knows that annoys her. She will kick and curse him in Spanish while he chuckles. If you playfully 'chastise' him on his behavior, he will lift you too with his other arm and carry you both around the house ignoring your protests. He may be old, but he's still inhumanely strong.

You three make meals together, Laura will set the table, while you and Logan deal with the cooking. He likes to chop vegetables, because it reminds him of his claws. They are still painful for him to pull out, but it's getting better, as his healing factor develops.

He's insanely good at chopping veggies.

I can imagine Logan getting a dog for the family. A very big and friendly mixed breed fella that he will personally train to be a guard dog. Honestly, Laura and Logan's lack of imagination amuses you to no end because:

Name: Dog

Breed: Dog

Occupation: Dog

(They thought it was hilarious)

Logan tries his hardest to discipline Dog, but he knew from the very beginning it was a losing battle, you and Laura kept pampering the puppy to no end the mutt is becoming spoiled. (He complains about it as if he didn't secretly feed him leftovers).

Almost every night Laura sleeps with you on the bed, Logan tried to break her out of that habit, but as soon as Dog started joining you three, he gave up. You and Laura just laugh at his exasperated expression.

You are just a happy little family.

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #old man logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #domestic logan #wolverine

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rafestyles · 10 days ago

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should've known it was a matter of time || rafe cameron

requested? No, I just need to write something!!!!!!

prompt: After getting caught by Singh’s men, you find yourself face-to-face with none other than Rafe Cameron.

For the sake of the story & so I don’t have to write it out - you are JJ’s sister. You and Rafe had been dating in secret before the incident on the tarmac occurred. Even though you had tried so hard to hide your relationship from JJ and the other pogues, it was all worthless when Rafe made you choose between him or helping out John B & Sarah (who is also your best friend). You obviously chose the latter and he declared your relationship over. You have mostly avoided him until this point. Or: You are Kie in episodes 1 & 2 of season 3, except you’re Rafe’s ex.

warnings/content: toxic!rafe, pogue!reader, maybank!reader, fem!reader, violence (g*ns & k*ives)

word count: 3.9k

The sound of your shallow, anxious breathing was the only noise filling your ears as you ascended the staircase. With the guard’s heavy footfalls echoing close behind, you had little time to scan the room for any possible escape routes. When you hesitate for a second too long, his voice cuts through the silence, annoyed: “Up.”

Reaching the top step, he jerks your body towards the first closed door, swinging it open, “Inside.” Although futile, you keep your feet planted in their position in the hallway. With an irritated exhale, he shoves you into the room. You whirl towards him, fury lighting your eyes. “Why am I here? Who are you working for?” you demand, a hint of anger & fear weaving through your tone.

“Dinner at eight. I’d clean up.” he mutters harshly as his eyes trail over your figure with barely concealed disdain. Begging, you glance at him desperately, “Just tell me what they want.” He doesn’t spare you another glance before slamming the door and clicking the lock into place.

Though hopeless, you pull at the handle a few times praying it may give. When it doesn’t, you admit defeat and turn your body to fully face the room. Taking a step towards the windows you pull the curtains open seeking an escape route but instead, you're met with a few guards standing right outside. Huffing out a frustrated breath, you keep scanning your eyes over the room.

Your gaze catches on a wardrobe and you make your way over. A row of identical red dresses hang on the rack inside, a note attached to the first one. Your fingers tremble as you reach for it, reading over the messy scrawl: “Pick your size.”

Your face contorts in confusion before it dawns on you - this is what they expect you to wear at the dinner they have planned for the night. Realizing that leaving this room is your only hope in formulating a plan of escape, you admit defeat and reluctantly pull out your size.

–

A few hours later finds you dressed and laying back against the bed. Your fingers twist anxiously as you wait for the dinner to begin, thoughts of your brother & friends racing through your mind. A brief knock taps against the door, alerting you for only a moment before the door swings open to a woman standing in the hallway. “He’s ready.” She speaks softly, gesturing you to follow her with a slight tilt to her head.

Exhaling a nervous breath, you hesitantly follow behind. When you reach the main level, she points towards a room where your ears pick up the unmistakable sound of a drink being poured. You step towards the open doors, your gaze instinctively landing on a man who’s standing with his back towards you. He lifts the glass to his lips, taking small sips of the dark liquid.

“Uh... excuse me?” you call out, your voice coming out shakier than you’d intended.

The man stiffens before slowly turning to face you. Time seems to slow as your eyes lock and your heart skips a beat. This is the last thing you were prepared for - standing face-to-face with your ex, Rafe Cameron. “No, no. There’s no way you and your dad are behind this shit.” You hiss, anger dripping from every word.

He seems to snap out of his daze, his eyes flaring in disbelief, “What are you talking about?” he snaps, “Are you and your pogue friends trying to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?” you retort, angrily. Your body seems to still be in shock as you try to wrap your mind around the sight of him standing before you.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” a voice chuckles from another corner of the room. You and Rafe exchange one last, charged look at one another before fully turning to face the man. Panic surges through you as you hear Rafe mutter, “Who are you?”

A smirk spreads across the man's face as he points at his chest, “Me?” he asks, his tone mocking. Your eyes glance towards Rafe, nerves tightening, watching as he almost instinctively shuffles his body closer towards yours. “My name is Carlos Singh.” he says smoothly, shaking his finger at Rafe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron.” His gaze shifts to you, condescension in his eyes, “And Ms. y/l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here.”

Rafe’s body tightens, his eyes sweeping over you. The tension between the three of you hangs thick as Singh lets the silence linger before speaking again, the tone of his voice taking on a false politeness.

“But please, come. Sit down.” he gestures to the table behind him. When neither you or Rafe make a move, he adds with exaggerated patience, “Come now, I don’t bite.”

Rafe sweeps his gaze over you once more, his eyes intense as they scan every inch of your body. Concern tightens his features and you realize with a start that he’s checking for any sign of injury. The realization sends something soft and unexpected through your body as his eyes reach yours again.

You offer a small, reassuring nod - enough for him to see that you’re okay. He seems to accept your unspoken message and you watch as the tension in his shoulders eases slightly, his expression softening at your response. With a subtle gesture, he finally moves towards the table, still glancing back to watch you closely. You notice the apprehension floating through his posture, but there’s an undertone of something else - weariness. You follow after him, realizing that although you hate to admit it, you and Rafe need to be on each other’s side right now.

“Rough tactics. What about me?” Rafe grumbles, his voice laced with frustration as he paces around the back of the room. “Yes, Mr. Cameron. False pretenses,” Singh says, pouring a drink into the glasses in front of him, “But the ends justify the means I’m afraid.”

He takes a few sips of one of the glasses, “Sit down.” You hear Rafe’s sigh of frustration before you both pull chairs out and finally take your seats. Singh watches you both, unphased by Rafe’s frustration as he sets a drink in front of you and another one in front of Rafe. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Why are we here?” Your voice steady despite the tension suffocating the room.

Singh leans back, his expression unreadable. “Well Ms. y/l/n, Mr. Cameron. We share certain interests… objectives.” he says in a tone that’s almost too casual for the situation at hand.

Rafe’s body leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, “Is this not about the cross?”

Your gaze snaps towards Rafe as Singh’s finger points sharply in his direction, “It is. Tangentially, it is about the cross.” he pauses as his gaze shifts towards a painting on one of the far walls, his expression distant. “But it’s also about something much, much bigger than the cross by orders of magnitude,”

He exhales slowly, “The completion of a grand quest.” With his back towards you, Rafe’s gaze finds yours, eyes locking for a brief moment. A sense of reassurance washes over you as you realize his expression matches your puzzled one.

“You see,” Singh’s voice cuts through the silence, bringing your attention back to him. “The story goes that 450 years ago, a Spanish soldier came out of the Orinoco Basin with a few gold beads. And when they asked the Spanish soldier where the beads came from, the Spanish soldier replied he got them from a peaceful Indigenous tribe who lived in a city of gold.” he pauses, letting the weight of the words sink in, “El Dorado.”

He eyes the both of you before continuing on, “And for the next 450 years, people tried to find that gold, you know.” He walks over to a table, picking a small dagger up as the blade catches the light. “They tried… conquistadors, knights, captains of ships, tribes, entire nations.”

He turns to face you and Rafe, his eyes growing intense. “All fighting each other in a race for the end of the rainbow.” He begins pacing in front of you, the dagger now resting loosely in his hands. “Thousands of lives laid on the pyre of gold fever.”

Your glance at Rafe, noticing the subtle tension in his body as he grows irritated at Singh’s story. “And it falls to me, you know.” Singh stops pacing, his voice taking on a deeper tone. He leans forward, his gaze bouncing between the two of you with an intensity that borders on obsession, “It falls to me to complete the task.”

He pauses a moment before continuing, “To bring full circle a quest that has gone on for almost 500 years. Perhaps… perhaps the greatest quest in the history of the western hemisphere.”

Unease grows in your stomach as you realize the finality in his tone, the unmistakable certainty that he will stop at nothing to claim what he believes is his. You begin to panic and snap your gaze to study Rafe again. You find his eyes already on yours as his expression is tinged with annoyance, lips pursed in a tight line. He begins nodding slowly, as if he’s trying to process Singh’s words, but you know him - the tension in his shoulders speak volumes: he’s pissed. Before he can utter a word, Singh’s voice speaks up again.

“And you two,” he points the dagger between the two of you, chuckling softly, “you two are going to play a part in that.”

Dread pools in your stomach as the walls of the room feel as if they’re closing in on you, an impending sense of danger sparking through the room. You glance at Rafe again, hoping to find even an ounce of reassurance painted on his features, but all you see is frustration. He pulls his lips into his mouth, a move you’re familiar with, as he tries to maintain his temper.

“What about you, Ms. y/l/n?” Singh speaks, your eyes catching his again. “Are you interested in history?” He pulls out a chair next to you, settling into it.

You hesitate before speaking, your voice calm but guarded, “More of a future person.”

Before he can respond, Rafe’s groan passes his lips. “Yeah I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much are you gonna keep philosophizing?”

Your skin prickles with unease at the sharp edge of Singh’s tone as he chuckles from beside you, “You are direct, aren’t you Mr. Cameron?”

The two men lock eyes, in a silent stand-off. The tension rises another notch before you decide to speak again, “What do you need from me?” you whisper.

Singh’s gaze refuses to waver from Rafe’s, his words slow and deliberate. “I’ve come to believe that you and your friends are in possession of something that can help me get what I want.”

The accusation settles with a thud and you observe the surprise flash through Rafe’s gaze, even though he fights to keep his expression neutral.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, “Which is?”

Singh’s gaze finally breaks Rafe’s, his attention shifting towards you. “An old manuscript. A diary, actually.” From the corner of your eyes, you feel Rafe’s gaze slide over your features, his eyes lingering with curiosity. There’s a small shift in his expression - like he’s trying to read you, but you refuse to break your stare from Singh’s.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rafe says, his voice sharp, causing both you and Singh to look at him. You exhale an anxious breath, trying to steady yourself. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know anything about a diary.” You lie, forcing the words to sound natural as they leave your mouth.

Singh's gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing as if he can read right through your facade. “But how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?” he presses.

Your pulse quickens as you shake your head, trying to divert the conversation, “Look, I want to help you, but I can’t.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Singh’s tone rings with thinly veiled frustration.

You tense at his response, your fists clenching anxiously in your lap. Without warning, you feel a soft pressure against your leg. You freeze, your eyes darting downwards, catching Rafe’s leg pressed against your own. The unexpected contact brings a jolt of warmth through your body. When you glance back up at him, the tautness shows in his shoulders and his gaze is heavy on Singh. The tension in the air is palpable, but just for a moment, it feels as if you’re not facing this alone.

The feeling quickly retreats as Singh’s voice echoes through the room, his tone laced with menace. “Because unfortunately, I don’t believe you.” You swallow around the thickness of your throat, barely noticing the subtle motion of Rafe’s shoe tracing up and down your leg. The quiet gesture stirs something deep inside of you, a mix of comfort and tension, but you push it to the side.

“You and your friend here couldn’t have found the cross without it.” Singh continues, assessing you both.

“He’s not my friend.” You respond sharply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. A flicker of sorrow races through you as you feel the weight of Rafe’s leg leave your own, irritation flashing through his eyes.

You glance over at him, the apology right on your lips, ready to break free before Singh speaks up again, “We can’t all be friends, you know.”

The words hit hard and before you can process them, Rafe suddenly pushes back from his seat, “Look, this is ridiculous. Okay? I’m out.” he mutters, stepping back as if to walk out. “I don’t know anything about a diary, okay? So-”

But before he can finish, he’s shocked into silence as a gasp escapes your lips. You watch as a guard steps from the shadows, the barrel of his gun resting coldly against Rafe’s chest.

“Do I look like a fool to you, Mr. Cameron?” Singh’s voice raises sharply although you can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of Rafe standing motionless, his chest still pressed against the barrel.

Singh stands, his eyes a constant weight on Rafe. “Do I look like a fool to you?” he repeats, enunciating each word.

For a moment, everything feels suspended in time. Your body relaxes slightly as Rafe finally steps away from the gun, shrugging his shoulders defiantly.

“You have the cross.” Singh sighs, his tone accusing. “She and her friends had the cross at one point. So one of you has the diary.”

Rafe’s eyes find yours, concern lingering in his expression as he catches the sight of your tears threatening to spill over. It’s gone in a split second as he braces himself for Singh’s next words, “And if you really don’t know,” he continues, “then I suggest you convince your friend to tell me.”

Through your tears, your gaze remains locked on Rafe’s profile as you try to read the expression in his eyes.

“Once I have the diary, you’ll be free to leave. I must warn you though,” Singh pauses meaningfully, “I’m not a man of infinite patience.”

You stand, trembling slightly as he gestures with his hands to follow him back up the stairs and into the room you were in earlier. His words are a chilling promise: “You have one day.”

As you climb the stairs, you try to blink back the tears as the tension is taut through Rafe’s shoulders. When you reach the room, Singh’s smirk rings through his tone, “Go to the window for a little demonstration.” He pats Rafe on the shoulder aggressively before adding, “I think you’ll enjoy it, you know.”

He walks back down the hallway, the guards slamming the door shut on you both.

“Hey,” Rafe growls, the anger finally boiling over. “Hey!” he grunts as he pulls desperately at the handle, “You’re just done talking? Hey!”

The sound of the lock clicking causes you to realize how trapped you are. “It’s locked.” you mumble, the weight of the situation falling heavily onto your shoulders. Rafe whips his head to look at you, frustration flashing in his eyes.

You stalk towards the window, Rafe following closely behind. Pulling open the curtains, you hear the sound of a man's voice filter through the window. “Hey. I didn’t do nothing man.”

“Who is that guy?” Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice is closer to you than you expected, his warmth pressing into you as you stand side by side.

“I know him,” you answer, your voice tinged with confusion. “It’s Jimmy Portis.”

Rafe snaps towards you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He was trying to help me.” you whisper.

Your body tenses as you spot Singh moving outside, his eyes locked on yours. The smirk on his face is evident as he pulls a gun from his waistband.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe mutters, his body instinctively moving closer to yours as you both flinch.

The sound of a gunshot splinters harshly through the air. You and Rafe gasp in unison as the sound echoes throughout the room, your eyes widening in terror. “No…” the word escapes from your lips as the tears finally push over the edge.

Rafe’s gaze is unwavering on your profile as he watches with intensity and a hint of desperation. “This diary,” Rafe whispers, his voice raw, “No bullshit. Please don’t bullshit me, okay?” he pleads, “Do you have it?”

Your silence that follows is thick with tension as the weight of his question settles through the room, your heart hammers in your chest. The internal battle tears at you - the need to protect your brother, and the harsh realization that Rafe may be the only one that can help you now.

“Baby?” Rafe’s voice cracks as the old nickname surges through your heart. The way he says it - pleading and full of concern, makes your decision that much harder.

“No.” The lie is out before you can second-guess yourself. You say it with fake certainty, praying he believes you, even as betrayal sinks through your body.

One look at his face tells you he doesn’t. The guarded expression flashes back over his features, irritation in his eyes as he pulls away from you and the window, attempting to process the lie.

“You forget I used to know you, y/n.”

read part two here

#rafe cameron #outerbanks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #pogue!reader #maybank!reader #female!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron story #obx #outerbanks x reader #toxic!rafe

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