#sorry that was a bit of a messy response but I hope at least some of it was helpful

[betweendyingstars]

Do you have any tips when it comes to drawing??

Hello!

So sorry this has been in here for a while, I kind of forget to check my inbox

But I think my best tips when it comes to drawing are use good references and try to draw what you see instead of what you think you see. Often our brains trick us into drawing things the way we think they should look instead of the way they actually look, so take your time studying what you’re working with, maybe even blur the reference photo so you don’t get caught up in small details too quickly, and then get your big shapes down before refining the details.

If you’re working digitally then flip your drawing often to check how the proportions are looking, and if you work traditionally try turning the painting or drawing upside down. When you do that, it helps you to identify areas that look “off”, and you are able to look at the drawing with fresh eyes.

When working digitally I also often like to start the drawing in greyscale, because that way I have better control of the values, and then I can colour grade it later when I like where the values are.

I think those are the best tips I can come up with right now, and other than that I’ll just finish off with saying: don’t be afraid to trace photos to help learn anatomy! Poses can be very difficult and it’s okay to need some guidelines for where everything should go! (Obviously don’t trace other people’s art and claim it as your own, but tracing photos to get a pose right or something like that is completely okay and not something you should feel bad about in any way)

And in general just practice! Keep drawing and study what you like about other artists’ work and get inspired by them! That’s how most of us learn!

I don’t know if any of that was helpful haha but thank you for the question and best of luck with your own art <33

[moonstruckme]

roomate jamess 😭😭😭💓💓🤍😭😭💓

I agree !

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!james x shy!reader ♡ 733 words

James gets the text just as he arrives home: Are you hungry?

He grins, putting his car in park as he types out a reply. 

I’m wounded. We’re coming up on our one-month roommate anniversary, and you still don’t know I’m always hungry? 

This makes a grand total of four texts between the two of you. You’d conversed a bit more on Craigslist before agreeing to let James move in with you, but barely. Your radio silence is much like your actual silence, but he’s happy to be making a dent in either. 

Your response comes while he’s fishing his keys out of his pocket. Sorry. Want thai?

James laughs, opening the door and toeing off his shoes. He calls in the general direction of your room, “I hope you’re joking about being sorry.” 

He’s hoping for maybe a reply via text, so it comes as a pleasant surprise when you appear on the stairs. You move like a ghost; if he put you and Remus in an old manor together, James is half sure it’d qualify as a haunted house. 

You’re in your pajamas, which means you must already be done with work for the day. James has noticed this is one of your habits; once you’ve decided you’re staying in the house, your outside clothes hit the hamper and you’re living in fuzzy socks. These ones, standing halfway up the staircase, are blue with white stars. Something about seeing you in full cozy mode makes James’ stomach twinge. 

“Do you want Thai?” you ask again, longer and in person. Several decibels quieter than he’d just been.

“Sure.” James gives you a smile, flopping backwards over the arm of the couch. He was going to cook pasta for dinner, but he’s a bit tired anyway and agreeing to the first bonding opportunity you’ve offered him takes precedence. “Do you wanna use my card, or should I pay you after?” 

“Don’t.” You wave him off, already typing on your phone. “I’m getting it.” 

“Not happening,” James replies. He starts digging in his pocket for his wallet, unearthing a half dozen gum wrappers and a receipt from last March. “But in theory, to what do I owe the honor?” 

Your eyes flit to him, something like accusation in them. James feels his eyebrows lift. “I know you don’t have that many leftovers,” you say. 

So, you’re onto him. “I cook a lot,” he replies with a shrug. “If there’s extra, someone should eat it.” 

“But why not you?” 

“Why not you?” he counters. 

You look suspiciously as though you might be biting down on a smile. A real one. “The point is, I owe you at least a meal. Do you want to see the menu?” 

“Sure, thanks.” He reaches out a hand. You come down the stairs to give him your phone, but once it’s in his hand your eyes narrow mistrustfully, fingers tightening on the device. 

“If you try to pay,” you tell him, “I’ll hide the money in your room so you don’t find it until you move out.” 

A laugh bubbles up out of him at your serious tone. “We live together, babe. I think I’ll come across it at some point.” 

“Not with your room as messy as it is.” 

Damn it, you’re right. “Fine.” James holds up his hands in surrender, credit card between his fingers. “But when I make dinner tomorrow, just eat it while it’s hot, yeah? Let’s do away with the pretense.” 

You sigh through your nose, sitting down beside him with one leg curled under you. You’re attempting something that’s probably supposed to be a glare. James would hate to have to tell you how unintimidating it is, but he may if you keep it up much longer; it’s almost too adorable to take. 

“I appreciate it, but you really don’t need to cook for me,” you say. “I eat plenty when you’re not here.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“That’s the point, James.” You roll your eyes, looking halfway amused. Shit, the day he actually makes you laugh he’s gonna have to bake a cake. “You’re not here to see it.” 

“Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?” He passes you back your phone, having added his order to your cart. “They’ve just added a slew of new movies to Netflix. Also, for tomorrow, do you prefer pasta or chicken?” 

[marvelfanfics1]

Littlesister!reader who keeps begging jj to get her a bunny!! But his brother always says no to her until one day him and john b offers to reader a stuffed plushie bunny and she treats it like a real bunny :(( omg

Another Version Of A Pet

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: just fluff

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"Pweaseeee!" You were pulling on JJ's shirt, giving him your best puppy eyes.

You have been asking and begging him to get you a pet bunny for days now, promising to always behave and take care of it yourself but JJ of course knows better than that from experience.

"You remember bubbles the fish?" He asks and you tilt your head confused.

"You mean the one you said swam away?" You furrow your brows and JJ mentally curses at him himself for bringing it up.

"Yeah...right. Nevermind. Kiddo, listen, you're too young to take such responsibility. A bunny is a lot of work." He tries to reason with you, hell he just manages to take care of you and doesn't have the heart to tell you another lie should another animal...die from neglect.

"M'gonna take care of it! I promise!" You whine.

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm sorry. But it's not up for discussion."

You frown sadly, detangling your hands from his shirt. "Otay...m'gonna go play outside." You mumble, your head hanging low as you walk outside, not acknowledging John b who just came back after running some errands.

"Hey, Maybank junior. You wanna- oh okay." He cuts himself off as you just walk past him and towards the hammock.

He turns to JJ with a raise of his eyebrow. "What's up with her?"

They both look in your direction, seeing you swaying in the hammock, watching you throw your small teddy in the air and catching it again. They look back at each other, smirking when the get the same idea.

"The same thing that's been goin' on for days. She wants a pet bunny and won't stop asking." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You remember her fish?"

John B hisses, remembering the day they had to flush him down the toilet.

A few days later, after JJ mowed a lot of lawns or fixed cars he finally had enough money for a bunny plushie. He couldn't stand to see you so upset so he hopes that at least the plushie will make you a bit happier.

He got out of the store, plastic bag in hand as he jumps into the Twinkie with John B behind the wheel. "And?"

JJ pulls out the white stuffed bunny with a smile. "I just hope she likes it..." He mumbles and John B pats his shoulder.

"I have a good feeling, bro."

You are sitting in the living room of the Chateau watching a movie with Kie and Pope. They were asked by JJ to look out for you until he comes back from the 'doctor' as he told you.

As the screen door opens you just gave the boys a quick glance before focusing back on the tv. JJ moves to stand directly in front of it, holding the bag behind his back.

"I have a surprise for you, squirt." He grins and now you were paying attention to him, sitting up.

"Me?" You point at yourself. "What is it?"

He just tosses the bag onto your lap, watching in anticipation as you look into it. His smile widens when you gasp, quickly pulling out the bunny and holding it out to admire it.

"Is a bunny!" You squeal and all the pogues smile at your excitement. You jump off the couch and run over to hug JJ's legs tightly, the bunny clutched in your hand. "Fank you..."

Throughout the next week JJ notices how you treat your stuffed animal like an actual bunny, taking it with you everywhere, feeding it, letting it 'hop' around outside, and instead of a crate it would sleep on a pillow beside the bed you're both sharing at the Chateau.

"Not for that, kiddo." He rubs your back, glad that you're beyond happy and grateful for the gift he worked his ass off for. He would do anything for you.

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra

[aliensupastar]

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work. 

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic. 

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so. 

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform. 

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise. 

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?” 

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time. 

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple. 

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time. 

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney. 

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it. 

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you. 

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that. 

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway. 

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too. 

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible. 

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.” 

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue. 

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard. 

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home. 

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him. 

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out. 

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset. 

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out. 

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment. 

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him. 

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest. 

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff. 

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind. 

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait. 

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.” 

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices. 

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much. 

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you. 

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you. 

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.” 

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.” 

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression. 

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.” 

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.” 

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice. 

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go. 

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

(I didn’t find any info if your askbox is closed or not, if you are not taking up requests you can ignore this!)

But hi :) how are you? how you are doing well

this is a bit personal, but would you mind doing either a Headcanon or scenario with reader x turtles (romantic/crush stage) with a…Hopeless reader? Kinda someone who had to tell themselves that love isn’t on their life journey and that seriously bother them? Lol

this weekend I’m gonna attend a friends wedding, while meeting with some shared friends before the wedding, one of them quoted corpse bride’s scene “to Emily, always the bridesmaid, never the bride” for me (most of my friends are married or dating long term), usually I handle the lack of a love life fairly well (by not thinking about it or just making jokes about it lol) but tonight it kinda really bothered me, a lot.) a lot of my friends treat me being single as something I don’t out efforts in it? But holy shit I do, and it really hurts to see them saying or acting like I’m not doing enough? Anyways. I guess the request would be how the turtles would react to a reader who kinda just lost hope, who agrees with the quote even if it makes her very sad? Kinda trying to wing the night lowkey but turtles can sense it hurt her (maybe Vern said the quote lol, or something similar… that’s something stupid enough for the falcon to do 😅)

I hope makes sense, if not I apologize for the messy ask. Have a good day / night

I'm sorry that happened. Your friends definitely need to stfu about that lol dating and relationships are fun, but nobody NEEDS them. If they need a RELATIONSHIP to feel fulfilled, they have shit to figure out.

Definitely been there tho. And being single can be horrible. I see you

Scene: Your turtle has been secretly pining for you for a while now. Hasn't got the guts to say anything yet.

TMNT x Lonely Reader

Leo

- He could sense your reaction instantly, despite how well you hid it.

- Your micro expressions, the slight but sudden shift of your bodyweight away from Vern- Leo almost didn't catch that you had smiled and laughed at the comment.

- His own reaction was visceral and overwhelming, at least it was to him.

-He remained still by your side, but the urge to...he didn't even know. Hide you. Push hard at Verns shoulder- something.

-Geez. He hadn't felt like this since he was a child. Like he could protect his little brothers or you from judgment or cruelty.

-He couldn't.

-He sucked in a breath through his nose, scrambling for self-control; watching you handle the interaction like an adult. Forcing himself to as well.

-But it did satisfy him to see that Vern physically felt his animosity. The guy took once glance at Leo before he instantly stuttered an excuse to walk to another conversation.

-"Vern is an idiot." Leo scratched out, desperate to keep what he really wanted to say to you at a minimum. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

-You seemed surprised at that, glancing up at him. But your quite, sincere smile made it it worth it.

Raph

- "Always the brides maid, never the bride, huh?"

- "What?" It was a reactive response. Before you could even register what he had said, or the sudden amount of hurt- or embarrassment you felt.

- Raph had turned wide, expectant eyes on Vern as well, something Vern noticed instantly.

- "Well, yunno." Vern stutteres, trying to stay focused on you. "I've seen ya at these events a lot but you never bring a guy around...or-"

-"See that girl over there?" Raph suddenly said, leaning down a little to point your gaze in the right direction.

- "Yeah." You said quietly.

-"Who's that girl, Vern?"

-Vern looked back at you guys, shrugging and putting his hands back in his pockets with an air of pride. "She's my girlfriend."

-Raph smirked, his voice somehow both condescending and unusually soft. "Vern met her a week ago. That makes her..." Raph trailed off, looming back into his full height, towering over Vern. "The sixth one this year, right. Makin' you real good at givin' advice to pretty girls, Falcon boy. Careful with that."

-"Jesus. I'm just- I'll be over there." Vern sighed, awkwardly stepping aside then walking out of sight.

- Raph said nothing, instead turning to you. "You alright?"

-You were desperate not to say everything you wanted to. "Much better." You said instead, looking up at him. Hoping the softness you saw there was a reflection of what you felt for him too.

Donnie

- Donnie couldn't even react or register the words before you were handling it. Shrugging and waving Vern off.

-He was horrified. His eyes were glued to Vern, completely confused that the guy had missed how rude of a statement that was.

-The conversation came and went, and while he had a wonderful time, he was entirety focused on you.

-While you didn't seem MISERABLE, you were different. Something had obviously changed. And it was Verns fault.

-You had no reason to feel pressure of that kind. You were perfect the way you were! No one should ever, ever, ever make you feel anything less.

-The thought that you did made him physically sick to his stomach.

-He might not have caught it in time to say anything in the moment.

-But Verns apartment locks, car, computer, and bathroom pipes all giving him a hard time all in the next 24 hours?

-A complete and utter mystery...

Mikey

-"Yeah you should listen to him." Mikey said.

-Shock coursed through you. "What?" You looked at him, wide eyed, heart in your throat- "W- I should-"

-"You should listen to him." Mikey repeated, noding solumley, starting to confidently strole around Vern. "This guy has fantastic dating advise. You don't even know, girl. Look at him!" Mikey's smile was as bright as the sun, gesturing to Vern as if he was a plater he was showing off to you.

-"He's been on this earth so long, his life experience exceeds our very comprehension, girl."

-Vern made a sudden puzzled expression while yours melted quickly into a smile.

-"He's got recipes too. Qualifications, evidence, the whole nine yards. Guy has like- twelve grand kids-"

-"I- C'mon, Mike-" Vern was catching on.

-"Ohhh.. yeah, that's right. No grandkids. But he does have a wife. They just had their fiftieth anniversary-!"

-"I'm not that o- He's joking with you." Vern tried to explain. "I'm not married."

-Mikey snapped his fingers as he had remembered something, suddenly getting much, MUCH closer in Verns personal space.

-"Oh yeah, that's right. You're not married. I forget that your on, like, your sixth girlfriend this month. Maybe actual advise sounds like..."

-Mikey stepped away from Vern, standing infront of you. "Keep those standards up, girl. Pretty face like yours? You could have anyone you want."

-You couldn't stop smiling.

[heartchoi]

fwb!yeonjun x gn!reader, suggestive/fluff (and a little angsty if you think about it), 632 words

It's warm. Yeonjun is panting against your bare chest, hands struggling to hold himself up after a particularly strong orgasm. Drool begins to fall from the corner of your lip, but Yeonjun swipes it clean with his thumb before shoving it into his mouth.

He can't hold himself up any longer. He collapses on top of you. Warm skin against skin, heavy breathing, the stickiness on your thighs transferring to his own.

It's messy, so messy.

"Yeonjun." You call out for him after you both recover.

Yeonjun makes a muffled "hmm?" sound. He's still panting, taking deep whiffs of your scent.

"We need to clean up, Jun. Can you roll over? I'll get some towels."

He doesn't have the energy to protest and whine this time, he just rolls over, finally facing the ceiling and relaxing in the soft comfort of your bed. Yeonjun’s eyes are shut tightly, trying to remember the warmth of your skin, your pretty noises, your—

You close the door to your bedroom as you seek some towels. It snaps him out of his daydream. Yeonjun’s eyes open, and he’s in an empty room, an empty bed.

He doesn’t like feeling this way. He knows he can’t do this, can’t date you, can’t love you the way he wants to. It wasn’t what you both agreed on. It just wouldn’t be right.

Yeonjun doesn’t even know if he’s ready for that sort of commitment. He’s fucked around with people before you, yes, but he hasn’t had a serious relationship. The fact that his heart and mind yearn for you in ways that go beyond hookups terrifies him.

But now, all he wants to do is hold you, caress your skin, have your hair tickle his neck as he sets his head on top of yours, safe and secure in his arms. He wants your warmth to invade every crevice of his body, swallowing him whole in what he can only describe as love.

Yeonjun allows you to help clean him up when you come back. The warm, damp cloth leaving wet trails on his skin.

“Can you stay for breakfast, at least?” Yeonjun asks you. It surprises you a little— he hasn’t ever asked that before.

“That’s new. I can stay if you want to, but you know I have work.” You reply. Yeonjun sighs in response. “Oh, no. It’s okay. You shouldn’t be late to work.” He assures you, but maybe you’d be willing to, for him. He holds out hope that maybe you’d just stay.

“You’re so sweet, Jun. I might stay next time.”

Oh. Well, if not tonight, maybe next time. Waiting for the next time he gets to have you shouldn’t be so bad.

He’s lying. He’s desperate to have you stay, even if it’s the only time you’ll sleep in the same bed for a night.

“You know, I can cook. Used to cook for my friends when we went to the States. I made some damn good eggs. I can treat you to a good breakfast, promise.” Yeonjun offers. He’s certainly a sight, because he’s still very much naked aside for the fact theres a blanket covering his lower half. It flusters you a little. “I’m sure you’re great at it, Jun.” You sigh out.

“Seriously though, can you just stay? Just for tonight?” He pleads.

Yeonjun’s eyes were hopeful, glimmering while he waits for an answer. Your gaze softens, lips parting as you come up with a reply.

He’s cute. It wouldn’t hurt to stay. Wouldn’t break the… thing you both have going on.

“I’ll stay.”

Perhaps it was when you were wrapped in his arms, his comforter covering the both of you as your head rests against his chest, his heart beating against your ear, that you felt something more.

a/n: hi, im back. im sorry i haven’t wrote anything in a while, but my midterms have finished and i’ll be writing in a bit in october :) please accept this short drabble hehe

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: You get what you give

For this round, drabbles are written based on a random choice of character and image from this pinterest board. Pls feel free to keep adding to it.

Character: Andy Barber

Prompt

Warnings: this drabble includes elements such as mentions of alcoholism and cheating. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

Andy Barber.

You'd know him anywhere but you didn't expect him there. The tight-ass, straight-laced family man in a place like this. His department store suit stands out on the dingy bar. So does the woman grinding in his lap. She's not his wife. 

He has one hand on a pint of foamy beer and his other on her ass. He encourages her with a growl as she nips at the air before him. The tension is palpable. 

Your hand rests on your phone as you hide on the gloom at the other end of the bar. Your vodka tonic is forgotten as quickly as the shitty day you hoped to drown in it. Your thumb hovers above Laurie's name, hesitant, calculating. 

Andy fucking Barber. 

That jackass with the side eye. You're not stupid. You heard what he said about you. He didn't realise you were in his bathroom, that you were witness to yet another row with his long tortured wife. 

Well, you might be a goddamn drunk but you're not a fucking cheater. The only man in your life is the bartender.  

You flick away your contact list. Instead, you tap the camera icon and swipe into recording mode. You carefully angle the lens up to catch the screen. Yoi watch through the screen as the woman straddles him, grazing her fingers through his beard as she draws him into a sloppy kiss.

Oh yes, it's very messy indeed. 

🍺

You expect chaos when you hit send. It isn’t thoughtless or spiteful. The truth is the truth. As he always says, honesty is the greatest virtue of all. You always roll your eyes when he goes on his exhaustive lectures; often treating Laurie no different than their son. 

‘Sorry, Laurie. I didn’t think you’d believe me but proof is in the pudding.’ 

Maybe there is a bit of spite left in you. You hope she’s happy now. Andy may have been right about you but you were just as on point about him. Let it burn, you might just smell some of the ashes as they settle. 

Days pass. No response. You don’t expect one. You were surprised she didn’t block your number when she cut you off. You wouldn’t have blamed her either. But you can still hate them all. 

It’s not Laurie, it’s him. He shows up at your office. You sit behind reception where you always do and tuck away the flask you keep in your bottom drawer. Shit. 

“Hello, sir, how can I help--” 

“Don’t fucking do that,” he points over the top of the square desk and grips the edge, “you know why I’m here.” 

You can’t help a smirk. You wiggle a pen and innocently tap your bottom lip, “I’m sorry, did you have a meeting with one of our agents?” 

“You are fucking low,” he snarls. 

“Ah, yes, but seems like we frequent the same gutters,” you sneer back. “She looked young. Did you check her ID? You might not just be a creep, you could be a criminal, Mr. ADA.” 

“Fuck you,” he bends over the higher shelf of the desk, “do you have any idea what the fuck you’ve done?” 

“Mr. Barber,” you reach for the phone, resting your hand on the receiver, “if you don’t calm down, I’ll have to call security.” 

He quakes with rage as his face turns red, “you’re a fucking bitch.” 

“Might be, but at least I’m not a cheater--” 

“Alcoholic slut,” he sneers. 

You lift the receiver and hit speed dial. You stare him down as you do, “hi, Joey, yes, I have a client here who’s a bit... aggressive, do you mind coming up here? Thank you.” 

You wink at Andy and put the phone down as you sit back. He glares back at you and stands straight. He puffs through his nose like raging bull. 

“Just you fucking wait,” he threatens as he retreats, “you ruined my fucking life. I’m gonna burn yours to the ground.” 

[k2padfoot]

Long Island Iced Teas

Eddie Munson x Y/n

summary: You left Eddie a month ago after thinking he was into Chrissy, when you run into him at the hideout things get a little messy.

warnings: Sorry Nancy is kind of a shitty friend in this, alcohol, some angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

It had been at least a month since you stormed out on Eddie, not talking to him at all since. It was stupid really and it was all your fault. You don’t know why you got so jealous but you did. Maybe it was because of how much you loved Eddie or maybe it was because of your stupid insecurities. Either way you messed up big time accusing him of being into Chrissy.

When you and Nancy walked into the hideout you weren’t surprised to see Eddie sat at the bar with a beer in his hand, but you were reluctant to stay.

“Nanc.. I don’t know if this a good idea.” you whispered to her as you tried to hide behind her petite frame.

Nancy immediately caught on to your hesitation once she saw Eddie, “Oh come on!” she turned to look at you, “Just ignore him, you deserve to let loose a bit.” She said as she reached for your hand dragging you over to the bar.

“Two long island iced teas please!” Nancy shouted over the crowd to the man working behind the bar.

To your luck Nancy had already hit it off with the guy next to her and you let out a rough sigh as you reached for the drink that was placed in front of you.

Nancy turned back towards you, “Oh, sip your drink and forget about him already!” She said while downing half of her own drink and turning back to the handsome blonde to her left.

You rolled your eyes and took a big gulp of your drink hoping the alcohol would kick in soon, you couldn’t bare to be here sober for much longer but you wouldn’t leave Nancy alone with some random dude either.

You were staring into nothingness when the bartender placed another drink in front of you, you hadn’t even noticed you finished the first one.

“Don’t worry, this one is on the house.” He told you as he pushed the glass towards you. Even he could tell you didn’t want to be here, that something was clearly wrong and maybe that’s why he took pity on you.

You smiled and nodded at him as a thanks as you picked up the glass and took a few swigs. At this point Nancy had disappeared somewhere into the crowd with her new handsome hottie leaving you alone at the bar.

Your glass was empty again and it’s like the man behind the bar could read your mind because he was already fixing you another one.

You could feel your body become warmer and your mind become lighter. It felt good, at least for now, so you downed the rest of that drink too.

As your head began to buzz you intently watched the bartender pour another one for you when you suddenly felt the presence of someone to your right. Quickly your head snapped in that direction and your eyes landed on none other than Eddie.

He had sat down at the empty barstool next to you. “A-and what the helllll do you want?” you slurred your words.

Eddie chuckled, “That’s no way to greet an old friend Y/n.”

You scoffed at his response, “That’s what you consider yourself? An old friend? Maybe I wasn’t so far off.” You said the last thing under your breath while reaching for your fourth drink.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You heard Eddie say as he grabbed the drink out for your hand, sitting it down out of your reach.

“What the hell?!” You snapped at him.

“I think you’ve had enough Y/n.”

Your brows snapped together as you stared at him in frustration, “Oh really? And what do you know?”

“I know that you were wrong, and I know that you get tipsy off two drinks. Four is going to have you feeling absolutely awful tomorrow.”

“Wrong about what?” You asked.

Eddie let out a loud sigh, “About her.”

You knew exactly what he meant but you didn’t dare to look at him. “I know.” you lightly whispered as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“What? What did you just say?”

You were really hoping he didn’t hear what just came out of your mouth, “Jesus Christ, I said I know okay?”

Eddie let out a breathy laugh, “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, “Oh shut up, why did you even come over here?”

“Because I still care about you.” He said without hesitation.

“Well you shouldn’t. Not after what I said that night, honestly if I were you I’d hate me.” you admitted, not daring to look up in to those beautiful brown eyes.

“I could never hate you. I’ll admit after you walked out that night I was so pissed at you, but eventually my anger turned into something else.” He took another swig of his beer, “Heartbreak I guess.”

There it was, that familiar sting in your chest as soon as he uttered those words. You tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill, you never wanted to hurt him and it killed you to know that you did.

You didn’t want to but you needed to. Quickly you got up from your chair and ran to the exit, you were in desperate need of some fresh air and didn’t exactly want to burst into tears in front of a full bar either.

As soon as you stepped outside you rounded the corner and emptied your stomach right in front of the bars dumpster. You couldn’t care less that you just puked up your guts behind the hideout because the sobs that were racking through your body were all you could focus on. You dropped to your knees, your head falling into your hands as you tried your hardest to calm your breathing.

A soft touch to your shoulder startled you and when you looked up you saw Eddie crouched down in front of you, those eyes you loved so much boring in to your own.

You felt his hand move from your shoulder to cup your cheek, “Hey, I’m sorry if I made you upset princess.”

Princess. That world alone out if his mouth is all it takes to makes you crumble and instantly your bursting into tears.

Right away Eddie is trying to console you, he’s rubbing your back and gently wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“S-stop.” you stifled out, softly grabbing his hands and placing them back onto his knees. “I-I don’t deserve this, you shouldn’t have to come out here and console me when I’m the one who hurt you. I-I’m so fucking sorry Eds.”

You squeezed your eyes shut preparing yourself for Eddie to get up and walk away or tell you off like you deserved, but that never came.

Instead you felt his soft fingers lift your chin up to look at him, “Open your eyes for me Y/n.” So you did, “You’re right, you did hurt me but I know you didn’t mean to.”

“W-what?”

He sighed before taking your hands back in his own, “Listen, just let me take you home get you sobered up and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

You nodded and let him help you to the van before driving off to Eddie’s.

The ride there was quiet aside from Van Halen playing over the radio and when you pulled up to the all to familiar trailer you couldn’t help but think of the many memories it held.

“Ready?” Eddie asked as he opened the passenger door extending you his hand that you took willingly.

He helped you inside and onto the couch while he went to grab you some water. You leaned back into the couch closing your eyes, your head spinning as you anxiously waited for Eddie.

You felt the sofa shift beside you and when you opened your eyes again Eddie was sitting there with a cold glass of water in his hand, “Here, drink this it’ll help.”

You nodded and took the glass from his hand before chugging the cold liquid.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at how thirsty you must’ve been, “Better?” he asked and you nodded before setting the glass down on the coffee table.

“Eds?” you asked him in a soft voice as you turned to look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, not taking his eyes off of your own.

“You said you knew I didn’t mean what I said that night b-but how did you know that?”

For the the third time this night Eddie reached for your hands and tightly held them in his, “Like I said, I was angry but then I thought about it more and I could see why you felt the way you did. I mean hell, if I saw you out in the woods secretly meeting with Carver I’d blow a fucking gasket. Not to mention Max telling you Chrissy was at my trailer, that must’ve hurt you too.”

“Y-yeah it did, but I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. I shouldn’t have accused you of anything without knowing the details.” You confessed.

“Listen to me, I don’t blame you I probably would’ve reacted the same way. But I need you to know nothing was going on between Chrissy and I, she just wanted to buy some pills.” He told you, his thumbs softly rubbing up and down your hands.

“I know that now but I just— I can’t tell you how truly sorry I am. I’m so fucking in love with you and my insecurities cost me to lose the best thing to ever happen to me.” You told him as you eyes burned with tears.

Eddie gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and used his other hand to hold the back of your neck before pulling you into a long awaited kiss.

You pull away catching a glimpse of his enamored eyes before he’s kissing you again. That familiar taste of his lips made you realize you could never have enough. His hands are everywhere, up your back and through your hair and suddenly he’s kissing you harder, deeper, with a fervent urge.

You draw back from one another to catch a breath when Eddie gently takes your face into his hands, “You never lost me. I’m right here, I forgive you princess.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear before you practically threw yourself into his arms apologizing over and over again, and rambling about how much you love him.

Eddie let out a soft laugh as he shifted you to look at him, “I love you too, but baby you need to stop all that apologizing because right now I need to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

and yall know where that’s gonna go, maybe I’ll do a pt.2 smut version.

[slowd1ving]

[OUT ON A LIMB] SNIPPET ゜・DAN HENG

snippet of the PREQUELLLL to the roommate au + an introduction to the ASTRAL INSTITUTEEEE

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Your guide through the long-winded halls pauses, blood-red hair swaying to a cascading halt as she points to her right. “This is your practice room for today. Make sure to read the rules before you begin, alright?” 

She’s friendly, introducing herself as Himeko with a dazzling smile. She’s one of the managers in the music club—veering into engineering territory. Compared to her, you’re just some guy with his guitar; you look away from her cheerful expression, gazing at the rules emblazoned in a red less vibrant than her locks. 

No intercourse. No hot food. No unauthorised persons. Scrawled beneath in messy purple pen is a blinding neon post-it: get the fuck out if you’re not using the room properly, you bums. 

“Wow,” you cough out in surprise, breaking your laconic pattern of responses. “I assume those have some crazy stories behind them.”

That elicits a small laugh from her, and finally it feels like you’ve done something right. 

“You have no idea,” she bemoans exasperatedly, ushering you into the room. It’s nothing too large—small enough to feel cosy rather than make you self-conscious, but big enough so sound carries well. “Right, if you need help setting up, just let the admin at the end of the corridor know.”

She leaves in a whirl of crimson and gilt gold, and you’re left standing bemusedly in the doorway. 

It’s not like you do need the help: hands deftly unravelling and plugging in cords and tuning the pegs with the ease only muscle memory evokes. How long has it been? With your mountainous studies, it’s little wonder that your hobbies were pushed to the bottom of the priority list. 

Your breathing turns rhythmic as you warm-up: chord after chord gently brought into existence with the fretboard and a copper penny as an impromptu pick. Though it’s been a few years, your hands fly across the strings.

A little bit of Bauhaus. Improvisation for The Cure. A brief snippet of Fields of Nephilim.

“I was cold as I mouthed the words, and crawled across the mirror,” you sing along with the backing track, embellishing the sombre baseline—chords ringing out clean in the daylight. It’s been so long that your mouth tastes sweet: letting the tones sweep you away in its ebb. The melody and harmonies blur together—as do your eyes. They flutter shut, focused only on replicating the feeling. “I wait, await the next breath.”

The notes fall apart and distort in the empty room: jarring and incomplete, yet harrowingly beautiful. 

“Your name like ice, into my heart.”

Your voice is hoarse: fingers raw and voice scraped tender from just these meagre hours of practice. 

“Everything is as cold as life—can no one save you?”

It’s not enough, but as the sound of song dies out and is replaced by the buzz of alternating current and low whir of air conditioning, you realise there’s someone in the doorway. 

Fingers drum on the lacquered body of the guitar as you look at him, and he looks back at you. He’s roughly your age: wavy black hair cut messy round his head; silvery chains decorating his neck and pale wrists; red liner accentuating sharp, lucid eyes that bear directly into you. 

“Can I help you?” you frown, scanning his face and realising you’ve never seen him around before: be it at a lecture, the library or any of the small stores dotted around campus. At least, you hope you’ve never seen him around—it’s awkward enough knowing he heard you, let alone that you might’ve come across him and forgotten his name. 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. His voice is pleasant: slightly melodious and clear even with his lowered volume. “The other rooms are all full—I was wondering if we could share?”

Wow, you blink. He’s so damn polite.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 4

Gif originally by @pierreparker (now it seems to be attributed to @king-keery)

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Masterlist

Summary: You were certain you could work with Parker on this Beaumont case, but you were wrong in the worst ways OR the three times you visited Parker's apartment.

Word count: ~6.8k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Awkwardness, swearing, tension. Mild depictions of stalking and violence. Some arguments. Repressed feelings. (and a sleepover :)

A/n: I'm sorry it's been 3 months since the last chapter — I started a new job and got sick like 3 times, but it's here!! Thank you all for your patience and love for this story. I really hope you enjoy it, love ya <3

The first time you visited Parker’s apartment was a few days after the fundraiser. If anyone had asked you whether you were avoiding him, you would have outright denied it. Not checking your texts in case it was him or spending that Monday work day shadowing Alice instead of sitting across from him meant nothing. Obviously.

Arriving home after the fundraiser had been mostly awkward goodbyes and restless sleep. You hadn’t ever meant for it to go this far, to be standing in the home of your rival intern/work partner/fake husband, and you were fine with never talking about what happened.

And it was all just a precaution really. Distraction kept you from getting too far into thoughts or memories that you wouldn’t — couldn’t — think about. Not if you ever wanted to face him again.

Despite your attempts to definitely not avoid him, you stood in the entryway of Parker’s apartment the next day after work. The Beaumont story ate away at you, and the two of you needed to make more progress on it. And his place, conveniently, was pretty close to the Daily Bugle building. So despite your best efforts, you walked side by side from work.

And when he unlocked the door for you both, your eyes looked past him and into the space. You were faced with the bare walls and messiness of his home. Old laundry covered his couch and papers lay strewn about any flat surface, but what hit you first was that there were very few decorations. Nothing sitting on the shelves. No family photos.

As you stepped into it, into the naked silence of the place, your eyes wandered with nothing to say. Briefly, the thought of whether he got lonely living here struck you so sharply that you bit back a gasp, suppressing a jolt running through your chest. It nearly ached as you pushed it away.

“Wow… this is, uh, nice,” you said through a weak smile, your gaze roving all around the apartment. 

Blinking at Parker, you watched him cross his arms in front of his chest. His body rested back against a small dining table, an unimpressed look on his face. “You’re being mean, sunshine,” he said.

You breathed out an airy laugh, falling back into what was easiest with him. “Ah, sorry for thinking you might at least clean up your dirty laundry before company comes over. My bad for assuming the bare minimum of you, Parker.” 

At least the bickering between you two hadn’t changed.

You walked farther into his apartment and set your backpack down. Parker stood fully and went to his small kitchenette, saying, “One, that’s my clean laundry. I’ve been a bit busy lately helping a coworker commit crimes. Two, I’ll clean up when I have company worth cleaning up for. And third, would you like anything to drink?”

He reached up into a cupboard to grab a glass, waiting for a response. At that moment, your eyes suddenly had a million more interesting places to look than the exposed skin of his back as his shirt rode up. You thought about anything but the memories of his warmth beneath your fingers.

“I’ve got tap water or a 2-liter Dr. Pepper that I drank straight from.”

Your lips pressed tight. “I’ll just have water, thanks.” 

He set the cup down on the table in front of you before grabbing out his laptop. You watched a small drop of water roll down the side of the glass until it landed on the tabletop. 

For a passing beat, or stretching minutes, you weren’t sure, you let your vision go unfocused, idly grabbing your own laptop out. You also pulled out the blueprints, the weight of them heavy since you stole them. Mentally, you flipped through everything you’d seen, and that worrying pit returned to your stomach. 

You hadn’t taken a sip of the water before finally breaking the silence.

“So what’d you learn from the back room you went into?”

Twirling a pen between his fingers, Parker rocked his chair on its back legs. “It was just a VIP section. Rich people talking about rich people things — and none of it explicitly illegal.” His eyes glanced at you for a second. “What’d you learn?”

You sighed, settling further in your seat. You’d been mostly avoiding thinking about it. “Not much from Will. Just his part in the non-profit, which doesn’t seem to be all that much. And that he seems different from his father, which may be an advantage after we report Ellis’s crimes.”

You watched an innocent look fall over Parker’s face as he nodded. Squinting your eyes at him, you asked, “What?”

“Nothing.”

Before you could interrogate more, he reached a hand out and grabbed the blueprints from you and traced a finger over the images. Letting out a quiet “Okay…” as you returned to your notes, you said, “You’re minoring in engineering, right? Does any of that make sense to you?” You gestured vaguely at the paper.

“It’s biochem,” he grumbled, not lifting his gaze. 

“Okay, whatever. Does it help us here?”

He let out a small gasp, making your head snap up. “Oh my god, yeah. My biochem final was on assembling a super suit to destroy the city. Can’t believe I ever thought it wouldn’t come in handy.”

You glared at him, your lips pursed, until he looked up at you with that stupid grin of his. You asked, “Are you done?”

Parker only shrugged, returning to his computer with the ghost of a smile on his face. You gave him time to study the blueprints as you let the case take over your mind once again, using it as a familiar buffer between you two.

Looking into the city hall’s archives, you wrote down names of any other people that may have had ties to Beaumont. You recognized a few from other pieces you’ve written — too many of them being stories on Spider-Man.

But by the time the sun began to hit the city’s skyline, your research hit dead ends. And Parker hadn’t given you any updates that told you he’d made breakthroughs on the blueprints. 

The ends of your thoughts felt frayed and fried, and it didn’t help that Parker now began interrupting the silence more and more often. 

“I’m just saying, center pieces of brownies are superior,” he said on his latest interruption.

Nodding with a tight smile, you checked the time. “You’ve been ‘just saying’ that for the past ten minutes. And I still disagree despite your best persuasive efforts.”

“You don’t want a warm, gooey piece that melts in your mouth?” He let out a hungry groan, presumably imagining it.

Leaning in slightly, you looked at him and said, “Parker, if I could make only crispy edge pieces, I would do it in a second.”

His mouth dropped, his voice becoming a whisper. “You’re a psychopath…”

With a soft laugh, you mindlessly switched from tab to tab, almost just waiting for Parker’s next interruption. He often brought up anything and everything that came to his mind — something you were slowly getting used to with him. 

And with fingers hovering above the keyboard, that thought stopped your movements.

You dragged your eyes up to see if he was looking at you. He wasn’t. Whether it was that realization of getting to know him or the genuine laughter he pulled from you every couple of minutes, you didn’t know. But it suddenly felt like too much. 

Several emotions hit you all at once as you sat there — some of them of relief and appreciation for a break from this case, and others sat cold and confusing in your chest. They clouded your mind even as you tried to sort through the names you’d found. Your leg subtly bounced up and down repeatedly. 

Slowly, without thinking, you began to pack up your things, moving your body instead of your mind. The only way you could react.

“I should get back. I’ll, uh, work on the story more tomorrow. With a fresh mind,” you muttered, throwing a tight smile his way. From the corner of your vision, you saw him nodding and saying a weak goodbye. But you hardly looked at him or the way his face fell as you left.

--

You’d ended up at Parker’s apartment for a second time four days later. The time in between the first and second visit was spent making little progress on the story, those days full of pointless interviews and wild goose chases — including walking back in the late-night air from talking with yet another dead-end lead. 

The bright moon peeking from behind clouds rose in the sky alongside your growing frustration — at Beaumont, at the city for its apathy, at yourself. The only thing to top it off was the feeling of plopping raindrops hitting your skin. Within a few seconds, the sky opened up, releasing a flood all at once to wash your hopes for this case down the drain.

The journey home felt heavy, each movement slow with your backpack and bag from your grocery stop held against your chest. You tried to ignore the rain’s staccato pattern humming a message to abandon this story. 

But that message grew louder when a slow creeping feeling snuck up on you. Maybe it was the sound of rain pounding against buildings or it was your heart beating in your ears, but a strong pulse went through your body with each step. A chill began to crawl up your arms, all the way to the base of your skull.

You looked behind you.

In the cloudy air, you saw no one. But you couldn’t shake a feeling twisting in your gut — one that told you someone was watching you.

Your pace quickened. With sharp, clenched inhales, your fingers gripped against the cloth of the bag like lines slicing through crumbling sand. 

Goosebumps rose along your skin under the cold summer night air. You brushed raindrops from your face, blinking your eyes a few times. When footsteps sounded not too far from you, your head whipped around.

No one. 

And when an unrecognizable voice cut through the fog — somewhere too far to see but too close for comfort — fear began to crawl up your throat, pricking at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know whether the deep voice’s words were directed at you, but you understood the angry tone beneath them.

Your mind, running through a million panic-laced thoughts, kept returning to the fundraiser. You two must have not been careful enough. Maybe it was Ellis himself to talk. Or one of his men to make sure you didn’t talk. 

You didn’t want to find out which it was.

The noises surrounding you dulled beneath your pulse thundering against your ribs. You tried staying near street lamps and other people walking, but the trip back took longer than normal with the pouring rain.

The sharp blade of the situation threatened you, grabbing you in an icy grip as your body ran into someone. Time froze with your blank mind. Gasping, stumbling backward, you instinctually raised your hands. Your fingers gripped impossibly tight onto your bags.

Brief seconds stretched into what felt like neverending moments as you stood there. You could only risk a hesitant glance when the person spoke.

“Sunshine?”

Shakily, you lowered your bags an inch at a time. Your sleeve tried brushing the rain from your face, your watery gaze raising to the man.

Never before had you been so thankful to see Parker, even as he stood in front of you with most of his body and face covered by a dark raincoat.

He asked what you were doing here, but your mind found it difficult to focus on his words. You barely picked up the unusual raggedness to his voice beneath the heavy storm.

You intended to say something sensical, maybe even sarcastic, but no words came out of your opened mouth — just a hiccuping inhale that strained your throat. A crack of thunder boomed overhead, and your body jumped with the sound. 

You couldn’t help looking behind you again, watching for any dangerous person between the raindrops. But it was only people trying to escape the rain.

Vaguely, you registered the dull ache on the inside of your cheek, your teeth gnawing on it nervously. Looking at Parker again, you noticed the neon red sign beside you two. At the street corner, the cherry light cast shadows across his face. You watched his eyes glance around, gaze scanning and calculating. You stopped breathing when they landed back on you.

Again, you tried answering him as he asked whether you were okay, but you mostly felt the warmth of him as he stepped closer. Reading his lips, you made out the questions, “Who is it? What do you need?”

As another boom of thunder sliced through the sky, you shook your head. Tried to make sense of whether someone was following you and how Parker was standing before you now. You looked at the crease between his eyebrows growing deeper with every passing second.

But when his arms wrapped around you, the presence of him engulfing your senses, a deep inhale settled into your lungs. The breath blew against his coat like a dam breaking.

Finally, you heard his words clearly. “My place isn’t far from here, okay?” he said. “Is that alright?”

You exhaled a “Yes,” and he began to guide you both down the sidewalk in an instant. He tried his best to shield you with his raincoat, but your body felt that familiar weight of Parker more than the raindrops.

He kept you talking, engaged in the conversation to keep you from slipping away inside your mind. You answered his question robotically, unthinking. But a strange silence eventually washed over your bodies. It sat in your chest until you coughed up something to say.

“What were you doing out here?” you asked. It took a waning effort to keep your voice steady. 

A too-long beat passed before he spoke. “Taking a walk.”

You would’ve told him bullshit if you had fight left in you, but not now. Maybe later.

And you never would have thought you’d be so thankful for Parker’s apartment either as you two entered the building and crossed the empty lobby. Your soaked shoes left wet footprints and squeaky steps on the tiled floor.

In the creeping moments of waiting for the elevator to come down, your eyes drifted to the building’s front door, watching for any movement that might pass. 

“It’s safe here,” Parker said from beside you. You nodded, but your eyes wouldn’t tear from the windows until the elevator doors shut behind you. Still, your mind repeated his words, the mantra echoing with each level the elevator rose past. 

You hadn’t realized just how cold you’d become until Parker’s hands wrapped around your arms. He rubbed up and down along your skin to build some warmth against your apparent shivering. You sent a begrudging nod as thanks.

“Just trying to stave off the frostbite,” he muttered, more to the air than you in particular.

You let out a sharp breath. “This means nothing,” you whispered half-heartedly — as some attempt at normalcy.

“Of course not.”

As the elevator doors opened, his grasp slipped from your body. Maybe you were too close as you followed behind him, but you couldn’t find yourself caring all that much. Not as you watched to make sure he locked the door after you both.

At his outstretched hand, you hesitantly traded him your bags for an old bath towel. You followed his offer to leave your damp shoes by the door, drops of water falling from you. They formed a spotted image around where you stood. You dried the best you could to avoid flooding his apartment, which looked slightly different than last time.

And before you could think better, you asked, “Did you clean?”

“Hmm?” he called from the next room, presumably his bedroom. As he came back to you, eyebrows raised high and innocent, he said, “Uh, maybe?” 

You nodded, pursing your lips as you considered his answer. Between his fingers, Parker held out a stack of folded clothes.

“Do you need a change of clothes?”

He stood in front of you, expectantly. “My last roommate left them. I think they’d fit you.” But as you paused your drying, your gaze fixed firmly on the soft-looking sweatpants and shirt, he said, “They’re clean, I promise.”

You took in the neutral expression on his face, the unusual straight line of his mouth. You gave a quiet thanks and followed the line of his finger pointing to the bathroom. 

The door didn’t quite fit, so you wrestled it closed and locked it. You relished in the warmth of the dry clothes over your slightly damp body, and you focused on that rather than the intimate feeling of undressing and redressing in Parker’s apartment.

Every few moments while changing, you took in your reflection in his smudged mirror. Mental and emotional exhaustion etched itself into the crevices of your body. It weighed down your hands as you hung your wet clothes over the shower railing, and it sat uncomfortably in your stomach as you left the bathroom.

Under soft lights, Parker stood before the stove in comfortable clothing, the shirt hugging his frame a warm dark blue. He moved with quiet steps around the kitchen, so at home here in a way you hadn’t seen before. Beside him, the ingredients from your grocery bag sat out on the corner, a pot of water heating up on the back burner.

Before you even made a sound, he turned around to face you. “You hungry? ‘m making us dinner.”

You stared at him, absently picking at your nails. “Uh, sure.”

You weren’t certain how else to answer, especially as he’d already begun cooking. The two of you had eaten dinner together before, but that was takeout while working on the case. This was… decidedly different.

Between cutting vegetables and putting pasta into the boiling water, Parker grabbed a granola bar from the new box you’d just bought. The first hint of a smile that night appeared on your face as he offered one to you too.

You both snacked as he began cooking the vegetables, and the silence didn’t feel so aching this time — not beneath the sounds of Parker’s kitchen. But a few times, he opened his mouth or looked as if he were to ask you something and would decide against it within a moment.

Eventually, you let out a long sigh and said, “Thanks, for uh letting me come back here.” You paused, your gaze staring off into nothing. “I was just a bit freaked out.”

He let your obvious understatement go and just nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Do you… know who it was?” His eyes glanced from the food cooking to you.

You shook your head. That might’ve been the worst part. “Couldn’t see anyone. Don’t even know if someone was following me.”

“Do you think it had to do with the fundraiser?”

You brought up a hand to run down your face, the weight of it unable to ground you. “Could be. I thought we were careful. Well, careful enough to not draw suspicion…” 

You trailed off, refusing to look at Parker. You tried refusing to think about that night, that maybe you’d done all that for nothing and still got caught, but it was no use. The thought churned over and over in your head, looking at it this way and that, until it became mush and a dull headache began to form behind your eyes.

Instead, as Parker finished cooking the vegetables, you thought about the end of the internship. When you’d be able to go back to classes and a normal life — with a promise of a job at the Daily Bugle that didn’t require you to pick up coffee for your boss or write about Spider-Man every other day.

As Parker strained the pasta, steam from it curled through the air, wrapping around the ends of his hair and warming the small kitchen. You watched him combine the pasta with the vegetables, plating the food for you both. And you found yourself sitting at a small table in Peter Parker’s apartment, having a meal cooked by him.

Between the hot food and safety of his apartment, the harrowing events of that night felt farther away — at least for now. Instead, the time was filled with talking about things that didn’t matter, just anything to keep your mind distracted. And by the time you helped him clean up dinner, you were plenty preoccupied by his offer to stay over rather than walk home in the dark storm. 

Besides your quiet “yes” as an answer, few words were passed alongside the dirty dishes. The silence continued as he grabbed a pillow and sheets for you, setting up the couch as a makeshift bed. “Here you go. Complimentary with each stay at La Casa de Parker.”

You shook your head at him. “Is the half-drank Pepsi an extra charge then?”

He flattened his mouth, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Afraid so. Can’t get service like that just anywhere.” He neared, merely shrugging his shoulders.

You let out a quiet laugh before noticing a dark spot along his cheekbone. “Oh, I think you somehow got sauce on your cheek,” you said. You began to reach a finger up to his face before pausing, your hand floating between you two. “Um…”

But his eyes stayed on yours, his head nodding for you to continue. Your thumb nearly shook when he grinned — a softer, nearly happier, smile than his usual one. Ignoring its intensity proved difficult with each gentle swipe of your thumb against his skin.

As your hand fell back to its usual place by your side, an electric buzz coursed through the air. Your quickening pulse went up through your body, sparking every nerve it surged past. Parker’s gaze dropped to your mouth, and you couldn’t help doing the same — maybe out of instinct or maybe to escape those pleading doe eyes.

Under the hyper awareness of Parker inching ever closer, you thought your heart couldn’t race any faster until a crack of thunder exploded overhead. A short gasp stuck in your throat, your body nearly jumping a foot in the air. 

Parker’s soft laughter interrupted your attempts to return your breathing back to normal, making you let out a breathy laugh too. But you took a few steps backward, palm flat against your chest, and pretended not to notice his hand ready to pull you back in.

“Christ…” you muttered, your muscles twisted so tight you thought you might burst. A weight dropped into your stomach, your feet moving toward the couch as you said, “That, uh, might be as much excitement I can handle for tonight.” 

He just watched you, his mouth slowly forming a closed smile. “Yeah, we should probably get some sleep before the next round of thunder makes you pee your pants,” Parker said, backing toward his bedroom with a tight laugh. Achingly slow it seemed, you watched his shadowy form disappear into his room, leaving you standing in the living room and picking at the hem of a stranger’s shirt on your body.

His light peeked from under the door, and when you eventually lay down, you traced the shapes from it resting on the ceiling. Your eyes moved over them again and again, timing it with the rise and fall of your chest and the beating of the things you refused to think about. You weren’t sure how long it’d been by the time you fell asleep under the weight of his blankets on top of your body and the smell of Parker’s apartment.

And when you woke the next morning, after a night of tossing and turning, the sun had begun to rise. It cast the world in a blue haze that quickly broke to a bright sky. It was still early, but the memories of last night and where you were now kept you from staying there another minute. 

As quietly as possible, you changed back into your own clothes, eyes glancing to his shut door every couple of seconds, before grabbing your bags. You set the worn clothes next to the folded sheets you left on the couch. 

That and a scribbled out “Thank you” on a scrap piece of paper were the only evidence that you were there. That you had somehow fit into his life at all, like a needed fresh breeze of air passing through. But it made you hold your breath until his apartment door shut behind you.

--

You went to Parker’s apartment a third time a week later. You vowed to never return again after that.

The time between those two visits was filled by earnest attempts at keeping things normal between you two at work — despite the silences that now felt awkward and energy focused on not thinking about everything — but it seemed normal wasn’t a word in the vocabulary of this relationship. Friendship?

The moment you made the promise to yourself to never return was at his dining table, laptops and piles of notes sitting between you both. After weeks of little progress, you looked back over the blueprints and let the thoughts you’d been avoiding float to the surface.

With a sigh, you said, “These parts for the blueprints had to be the ones in that warehouse I went to. I think we might have to go back there — check it out and see if maybe they’re still there.”

The idea had been in the back of your mind for days, but after the incident of someone possibly following you, you’d tried looking for any other alternative. The lack of useful interviews and new information pushed you back to that option again and again. You’d already done it once, though, and you would do it once more for the story.

And these thoughts drifted through your consciousness as you read over your notebook for the hundredth time. They were interrupted when Parker responded, but his words only registered seconds later.

“What?” you asked, lifting your head to look at him — certain you hadn’t heard him right.

“I already did.”

A stillness dropped over the both of you, your breathing slowing. Confusion hit you first, the feeling wrinkling in your chest. Disbelief hung from your lips as you stared at his face still looking at his laptop. Although his words sounded absolute, leaving no room for misinterpretation, you asked, “You went to the warehouse?”

He just nodded as his teeth dug into the edge of his lip, his eyes moving across his screen. “Uh, yeah. Like last week.”

He explained it as if that was enough. But no answer came, nothing worked its way past your clenched teeth. Past the sudden intensity coursing through you — feeling almost like pain and something heavy you couldn’t pick out.

When it was clear that his explanation wasn’t enough, he continued. “Didn’t want you going back and snooping again,” he shrugged, and that set your nerves alight — as if he were shrugging at a hornet’s nest he just swung at. “It looked like those boxes had been moved to another location.”

Beneath the table, your other hand slowly clenched until your nails bit into your palm. You shut your eyes just for a second, forcing yourself to breathe. It barely helped when you spoke, your voice coming out strained.

“Parker?”

He finally looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I…” you began, shaking your head in a confused disbelief. “This is my story, remember? You follow my lead. What are you doing going to the warehouse without telling me?” You tried to keep your voice calm, but a tightness rising up your throat threatened to choke you. 

“I knew you’d want to go back — a very unsafe decision if you ask me. So I went instead.”

“But I didn’t ask you. That’s the– how was it safe for you to go by yourself?” you asked, your eyebrows coming together in a deep line.

Parker shook his head, his mouth set in a straight line. “I mean, would you have even been okay to go? After last week… and everything that’s happened?”

That made you pause, your breathing stopping for a moment. The fragile air hanging between you and him seemed to crack under pressure. “Everything?”

He began to say something before pausing, unused words on the edge of his lips. “Yeah. Like the fundraiser. Like flirting with William Beaumont, you know?”

“I… that’s just part of the job. I mean, it seems like you need to talk through some stuff.” When he gave you an unamused, almost disbelieving, look, you shot back, “I’m fine, Parker.”

His expression didn’t flinch, just the muscles of his jaw tightening. “Okay,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. “Jus’ trying to get you to open up.”

“Why?”

The question left your mouth before you could really consider it. It felt sharp cutting through the air. But that didn’t mean you weren’t thinking it. His questioning was passing over some invisible line — you weren’t sure what it separated or where it stood, but it felt dangerous. The more you let his words dissolve in front of you, the more your face twisted into an unfortunately familiar hardness.

Parker pulled back a little, his eyes flaring open as he seemed to stare through you. “Because it’s been a lot. And I don’t know, maybe because we snooped through a criminal’s mansion and made out in a closet?” he said, a bite to his voice.

When you didn’t answer — couldn’t get an answer out — an exasperated sigh left his mouth as he threw his hands up. “You’re not exactly proven in the field, so I thought I’d check in. Try to help out with the warehouse.”

You couldn’t stop the weight forming in your chest or the angry glare your eyes narrowed into. “Okay, well thanks for your ‘help’ or concern or whatever, but you’re not exactly the person I’m going to open up to. Not with… everything,” you repeated, shaking your head. “And all this is for the Beaumont story. For the internship, so we can just forget about it once we’re done.”

His scoff had your nails digging farther into your palm. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Is everything just a competition to you?”

“Is it not for you?”

You quirked your head, raising your eyebrows while awaiting his answer. Jumbled thoughts rolled through your mind, some calling you a liar and others itching to speak their mind against him.

His normally bright eyes looked nearly black. Cold. His mouth opened and closed, as if he couldn’t decide on what to say to you. He landed on, “I… can you just trust me on this warehouse thing?”

Trust. The question he’d asked before he kissed you — whether you trusted him. Maybe you had at that time, in his embrace and your heart in your throat, but in this moment? The aching, sinking feeling in your stomach told you something different.

You could only ignore his question, too pulled apart to really think about it. Your frantic instinct had you dodging, trying to find some way to move forward. In a quiet voice, you asked, “What’s next then? Talk to Will?”

“No,” he snorted, “Definitely not.”

And whether any part of him had grown less irritating in these past weeks no longer mattered as you stared at him. His unending smugness, the unwarranted superiority he carried with him, even his stupid hair that he never bothered to brush — it all wound tight around you until it begged to snap.

Your jaw began to ache from how long you’d been clenching it. “What do you suggest we do then, Parker?” The words came out sharp and rhetorical, ready to attack.

Setting down the blueprint, Parker leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “I think we need more information and more research. We can focus on that before making any quick decisions.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you serious? We finally made some progress at the fundraiser, and now you want to wait? Beaumont’s plans could already be happening.”

“Which is dangerous. How are you going to go up against him? Especially with this suit he’s made?” he asked.

“It’s our job to uncover the truth. You knew this from the beginning.”

His face set into a hard stare, his gaze unyielding. Had you been any less furious, you might have averted your own gaze. But you just sat there as he said, “Well, things have changed.”

Yes, they certainly had.

Those dark eyes that no longer felt familiar dropped to the table, his chest rising and falling sharply.

A cold dread filled your body. You hated this whole conversation and whatever it meant. To either of you.

“Are we good here?” You began packing up your things without an answer, ready to leave his apartment and forget about “everything” to do with him.

His head shot back up, but he quickly forced himself into looking relaxed. “Sure. Whatever.” His hand came up to roughly scratch through his hair. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

Pushing back your chair with a screech that cut through the silence, you muttered, “Like you care.” You shoved your things into your backpack, fighting against the strange wave of strong emotion boiling in your chest. You shouldered the backpack without a word.

“Sunshine...”

God, you hated that nickname. How it sounded coming from his mouth.

You just gave a bitter laugh and fought through your anger while walking out of his apartment. With each step carrying you farther away, you were sure you had the answer to the question you had that first visit. This place certainly felt lonely, even when you were there.

--

It only took two days for you to return to the warehouse, cast in the shadows of the night. Any small voice in the back of your mind telling you to trust Parker and stay away from that place fell into silence — deafened by the very convincing thought of “Fuck Parker” that played on repeat.

Maybe he was being honest about the suit parts, but you both knew he wasn’t telling you everything. And if he wasn’t going to give you the truth, you’d have to go find it yourself. Past the bright billboards and busy bars, you followed the steady beat of your heart back to the warehouse.

In Uptown, the path gave way to more warehouses and fewer street lamps until you were back to where the story began. As you crept down the alley, you once again saw no one around, a fact that worried you more than you liked to admit. But you pushed forward, ensuring your footsteps fell silent against the cracked concrete. Your ears strained to catch any noises outside the warehouse. You heard nothing but a breeze brushing along your skin… until you climbed the fire escape again.

Growing closer to those fluorescent-bright windows, you could barely hear muffled voices. It sounded kind of like bickering, but it was hard to make out. Swallowing back your persistent fear, you dared a glance down into the building.

A shaky gasp fought its way out of your mouth as you saw the once countless rows of neatly shelved boxes strewn across the warehouse, most of them shattered and broken into splinters. Your eyes traced briefly over the ruined scraps of wood until they fell on something metal poking out from beneath the wreckage.

As you crept down the line of windows, the different angle showed the object’s sharp edges and green glow. A bitter sinking weight hit inside your chest as you recognized Green Goblin’s glider.

So Parker had lied to you. No, he’d gone behind your back and lied to you.

The realization made you breathless, your lungs suddenly aching for more air. You tried shaking it from your head, to forget about it until you were home, but the hurt stung worse than you’d expected. Had you been wrong to ask for him to join this story? Was his help worth all this?

Voices from inside the warehouse growing louder cut through your confused thoughts. The sound drifted from above, through the skylight Spider-Man had come through last time. A man yelled at someone, his words spewing anger alongside crashing — almost as if he was breaking more boxes as he spoke. The voice became clearer bit by bit, and you were able to catch a sentence here and there.

With fingers gripping the edges of the window until they hurt, you crouched in silent stillness. The screaming man came into view, his white-hot emotions intense enough to make you shiver against their cruelty. He walked while berating some worker until his face grew red. A face you’d become familiar with.

William Beaumont, the man you’d danced with, now stalked along the aisles in an almost animal-like way. The mouth that whispered along the shell of your ear and promised real change now spit hatred like he couldn’t contain all of it inside him. The hands that had smoothed along your dress were clenched into fists, punching against the metal bars of the shelves — and bending them like it was nothing. A suffocating wave of nausea passed through your body.

Your unsure hands grabbed your phone from your pocket, your mind running on autopilot as you took photo after photo of him. Many of them were likely blurry, but at least one had to turn out. It had to. 

Before you could take more, your phone began vibrating as Parker’s contact name appeared on the screen. Behind the initial shock of fear that someone could hear you was the seething anger that hit. But beyond that was your finger immediately hitting the answer button. You had to tell him.

But the words died on your lips when a sharp coughing fit hit your ears, followed by a pained groan that froze you in your spot. The whole world seemed to come to a gnawing stop for a moment.

As quietly as you could, you said, “Parker?”

You refused to take your eyes off the men in the warehouse, watching for any sign that they heard you.

“Sunshine…” Parker’s distressed voice muttered out, then a too-long pause. “I need…”

A horrible buzzing overwhelmed your senses, a deep frown pulling at your face. “Parker, are you okay?” With only an answer of static silence, you pleaded, “Peter?”

You heard his strained, almost fading breathing. “Can you, um, come to my apartment? Please?”

You weren’t sure whether a yes or no came to your mind first, just that they both sat there waiting for you to choose. But through your frantic worry, you caught Will’s next shouted words and hung onto them like your life depended on it.

“Fucking find him! He’s a goddamn swinging man in red, and you shot him! How hard could he be to find?” he yelled to the other man, throwing a half-shattered box at the wall. The explosion of wood rained down on them, creating a background to their confessed crimes.

The worker finally spoke up, clearing his throat through the destruction. His gruff voice explained, “We lost him near Midtown. My people are searching there now, and we’ll find him.”

“You fucking better, for your sake.”

While you weren’t surprised that Spider-Man was involved in this, you couldn’t believe he was being hunted — and shot. 

But it was Parker’s coughing fit that brought you back, pulling at some deep part of you that needed to know what was hurting him. Instead, it sparked memories, breadcrumbs, of these past months. Of Parker always being one step ahead of you. Of just how close he always seemed to be to Spider-Man, as he seemed to be now.

Parker’s apartment, which you visited three times and three times only, which sat on a threshold between achingly foreign and frustratingly gentle, which was too far from your outstretched hands right now, was in Midtown.

Your heartbeat seemed to dim until you could no longer feel it. Your eyes began to sting, unshed tears crawling up your body. All your thoughts left until two remained at the center of your mind. Peter was Spider-Man. And Peter was hurt.

“Sunshine…”

The nickname came not from your phone but from behind you — spoken by a voice that shouldn’t be calling you that name.

Your phone dropped from your hand, clattering against the metal fire escape with a bang. Peter’s voice barely came through the speaker, but you could catch the urgency in his tone — all as you turned to scramble away. Still, you caught a glimpse of the man behind you.

You recognized the dark features and dead look in the eyes of Ellis Beaumont before something hard came down on your head. In an instant, tears spilled across your cheeks, the world darkening into shadowy nothingness.

@dil3mma @hollandweather @reidslovely @a-lumos-in-the-nox @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @agent-tempest @olivezgalore @qwintlimon7 @eddieslooneymoonie @aheadfullofsteverogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[niceminipotato]

Hello guys.

So for Pride month this year I really don’t have the capacity to do what I did last year with a one-shot a day. Sorry. Still I wanted to do something. So I will be posting 5 one-shots for 5 different fandoms. Hope you enjoy. The first is of course Meddison 😉

PRIDE - Panicked

She was breathing. Wasn’t she? Her heart rate spiking and the tingly feeling at the tip of her fingers didn't mean anything. The jumbling prickling sensation running up and down her spine was nothing. She was ok. She was alright. But… maybe this thing she was feeling wasn’t entirely normal?

No. She was fine. She just needed to breathe and clear her head. She only had to calm down. It didn’t matter that he knew. Everything was fine. Everything was—

“Denying it won’t make it be less true, Red.”

“Go away, Mark.”

Just how the heck had he found out? This whole thing was platonic. It wasn’t as if she had let anything show. Had she? Not even she herself believed this was true. Oh the lengths she’d go in her denial.

“You are in love with a woman. And hey that’s ok. I’ve been in love with women before.”

They were in the middle of the hall, where just about anyone could hear. As soon as the words left him she covered his mouth and glanced around. The last thing she needed was one more rumor about her to become part of the general circulation of Seattle Grace. And they didn’t need much to go off of…

First people had found out she had cheated on McDreamy and that’s why he ran. The amount of dirty looks she had gotten for that one made her laugh some times. Then people heard about things not working out in bed. Honestly, how they had found out about that one was a mystery to her. News of their divorce wasn't really a secret. Still the whole hospital was buzzing with it before lunch. The last bit had been her little arrangement with Mark, which of course led to nothing between them. Not that she wanted it either way. But after so long being in the front page she wanted to be out. She really didn’t need anything else to be part of the gossip cesspit that was this damned hospital.

“Shut up.” She seethed and Mark only chuckled.

Uncovering his mouth he gave her one of his shit-eating grins. “Red, this is fine. Falling for a w-”

“I told you to shut up.”

“Are you really that ashamed to have joined us in the rainbow?”

“Us? And I’m not—”

“You’re acting like it. Do you think it dirty? Are you not proud of what you are?”

Proud? It had nothing to do with pride(ahem). And she really wasn’t ashamed. She had never had issues accepting people and their preferences. Hell, it wasn’t as if anyone would need to have her blessing to love who they loved.

No. No one had the right to judge people. Not even Satan herself. Not that she’d ever want to or feel the need to. People get to be happy with whomever makes them happy. They get to be happy in whichever way they choose and no one has the right to keep them from their happiness. That was what she believed at least.

Back to the present conversation though. Mark really didn’t know what he was talking about. He was wrong (he wasn’t though).

“Mark, I-I’m not…” not what? Yes, I am.

Mark only watched her as she struggled with her own acceptance, his grin still as irritating as ever. In reality, it wasn’t hard to accept her inclinations. See, she had already had an inkling as to where her preferences lie. What was hard to accept was the reason or rather the person who finally cemented the notion for her. It was so messy and complicated.

“Why her?” She whispered the question echoing in her head.

“I think your heart chose the best person.”

“I don’t even know if she’s-”

“Meredith Grey is as colorful as you and me, Addison.” He took a deep breath and continued to smile.

“Do you hear yourself, right now?”

“Oh come on, Addie. Gotta throw in the jokes wherever I can.”

An eye roll was her only response as she went back to panicking over the fact that she had utterly fallen for the blonde with baby blue eyes. That same blonde who had been her ex-husband's mistress. The blonde she had thought she’d grow to hate but didn’t. Why did she have to be her ‘gay awakening’? Truthfully her gay awakening was probably that girl from med school but still not even her slight panic then could compare to her panic now. This felt more real. It felt true. But…

What was she supposed to do with all of this? What could she even do? Denying this whole thing was becoming increasingly harder. Making it seem as if Meredith being close didn’t affect her was just not something she could do anymore. Not now. Not after she let herself sorta accept the issue. She was freaking out now and she didn’t even have the other woman in front of her.

“Speak of the devil and she will appear. There’s Grey.”

Addison spun around, only years of experience kept her standing after moving so quickly on her high heels. Her heart, that traitorous thing, beat furiously as she noticed said blonde at the end of the hall with her person, as she called Cristina.

Mark chuckled beside her, no doubt noticing the bigger shift in her state. “Now what?”

“What do you mean now what?”

Mark let out an exasperated sigh, “do I need to spell it out for you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Mark?” Her gaze was still on the blonde when Mark leaned in and whispered the craziest thing in her ear, sending her into a stuttering mess. “W-wh-what?”

“Go over there and ask her out on a date.”

“Are you out of your mind? You hit your head before you got here, didn’t you? You need a CT.”

“My head is perfectly fine. And you just need to go over there and ask her out.” Mark wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she looked at him as if he had grown three heads.

“You must be delirious. Why would I go ask her out?”

“Because you like her and you’re both single so why not?”

Pulling away from him and turning to face him she shook her head. “I can’t just go ask her out. Sh-she’s… Meredith Grey.” She whisper-shouted the name and Mark only chuckled.

“Addison, what do you do when you’re interested in someone?”

“Nothing. Because I’m not interested.”

“Again. Denying it won’t make it less true.” He raised a brow when she opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. “Listen, trying won’t cause any harm. Just get over there.”

“Mark, I’m her ex’s ex-wife.”

“What I heard in that statement is that, as I said before, you’re both single.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“What’s got you so scared, Addie?”

“If she’s not… and then even if she is… what if… what if—”

“You’re acting like a scared little baby. You won’t know what’ll happen until you try.”

“Can you give me a break? I just figured out that I—”

Mark laughed and she went on to shush him. “You did not just find out. You already knew.”

“I… whatever. What about Derek?” She asked and noticed Mark stiffening slightly, which was pretty strange.

“What about Derek?”

“You know what. Why are you being so defensive all of the sudden? Anyway, I don’t even know if he’s over her.”

Mark glared, “he is.”

“How would you even know?”

“I just do.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms and watched him almost pout before letting out a sigh.

“I know because we’re as colorful as you.”

“We’re…”

Suddenly Mark’s defensiveness made sense as well as the slight blush creeping along his neck. She looked at him a moment and watched him shift uncomfortably, which made her grin. There had always been something about Mark and Derek. The way they acted after that little drunken adventure which had led the three to bed. Oh yes. She could definitely see the two of them together and happy.

“I’m happy for you two then.”

“Yeah?”

There was a vulnerability to his words that made her reach out and squeeze his arm. “Yeah. Definitely.”

He relaxed, “good.”

“Mhmm.”

“Ok well now, as I said, Derek won’t be an issue so…”

“Mark…”

“Addie, just go over there and ask her out. What have you got to lose?”

‘Everything’, she thought to herself and Mark seemed to read the thought on her face.

“Don’t be a chicken. Do it or you’ll regret it. Trust me.”

The ringing of Meredith’s laugh floated over to them drawing their attention. Ignoring the chicken bit Mark had said she focused on the rest. As she watched the giggling blonde she wondered what could happen should she listen to her friend.

Did she have it in her to get hurt again and survive? Wouldn’t it be better to stay safe and away? What would Meredith do if she told her? What would she do if she didn’t? Would she really regret not acting on this? There were so many questions that she couldn’t find an answer to. What if it didn’t work out? But then… what if it did? What if Meredith felt the same? Could the blonde feel that draw she felt? That never ending pull? Did she also freak out when she figured it out? Was she stumped just as she was in her panic?

Meredith’s laugh rang once more, shaking her out of her haze. As she looked at the happy blonde she wondered how it would feel to be the one to make her smile. The one to make her laugh.

She could picture late dinners, rushed lunches, small juju breaks, late night movies, small conversations, wordless conversations. It was the little things she’d like with her. Coming home after a long day to just sit and be with each other. The other things that came from a relationship would be most welcomed as well. She would never deny that but just the small things, the things you don’t think about. She wanted those with the blonde. How would she get any of it if she didn’t try? At least once.

“Fine.”

“Yeah?” Mark beamed and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah.”

“Ok. I’ll wait here. Then I’ll celebrate with you or go drown in beers with you.”

“I’d rather drown in wine.”

“Fine. Wine it is. But I don’t think we’ll need to drown.” Mark wiggled his brows and she shook her head.

They waited a few minutes for Cristina to finally leave Meredith on her own. Mark had been impatiently waiting, throwing glances towards the blonde. Addison had almost smacked him a few times for being so obvious. Once the brunette had gone leaving just Meredith at the nurse’s station he practically shoved her towards it.

Addison had half a mind of turning around and kicking him on the chins but resisted. She took a steady breath and made her way towards the blonde. Her usual strut was less impressive, less threatening. That confident gait of hers has been replaced by a nervous, almost hesitant, one.

Heart knocking violently against her rib cage she managed to get to Meredith, who was writing down notes on a chart. With absolutely no idea how she managed, she cleared her throat to call the blonde’s attention. Baby blue eyes met her jade and she almost turned around with her tail between her legs.

“Hey, Addison.” Meredith smiled softly and honestly why would she do that to her.

“H-hi.” ‘What the hell was that sound?’

“Umm hi.”

“Uh, busy?”

“Just charting.” Meredith watched her a while and the silence became awkward and almost unbearable. The blonde gave her an almost pained smile before she spoke again. “Well umm, yeah. I’ll see you later I guess?”

Addison resisted the urge to pinch or slap herself out of her haze. She needed to say something. She hadn’t come here to stand in front of Meredith doing nothing and looking like an idiot. She had come here to ask her out, like Mark had said. But her mouth wasn’t moving and the air was so thin. Still, though she had to say something, anything.

“A…” she began but stopped taking a quick breath before resuming. “Are you on a twelve?”

“I uh no. I’m not. Finishing a sixteen.”

“Oh, I see...” ‘Dammit, Addison. Talk!’ Another steady breath and she continued, “are you going to be busy after?”

Meredith frowned, curiosity evident in her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You’re probably going to Joe's, huh?” Addison forced a chuckle and all she could think about was the cheer amount of awkwardness and tenseness in the air.

“M-maybe? I don’t know. I think I’m the only one that gets out early today.”

“Ah…”

“Addison, are you ok?”

“Yep. Are you ok?”

“Yes. It’s just you seem umm…”

She needed to stop. She was making things worse. Meredith was looking at her as if she had gone crazy. Frankly she felt was going crazy. Who in their right mind would do this? This thing wasn’t real. She didn’t—

“Denying it doesn’t make it less true, Red.”

One big deep breath and she grounded herself. “Meredith… let’s go out.”

Meredith stared blankly at her, her lips parting as her mouth hung slightly open. Briefly the image of staring into a computer blue screening entered her mind and she fought to contain her laughter. Soon the blonde’s gaze softened and she bit her lip almost nervously.

“Go out? You and I?”

The questions floated softly towards her and Addison couldn’t tell what emotion was swimming in those baby blue eyes. All she could tell was that now, now she was really freaking out. Her palms were starting to sweat and she had the sudden impulse to jump in the balls of her feet while chewing her bottom lip. She resisted in both instances.

“W-well, yeah. I mean umm well you and I… you know… and I thought that Joe’s was a good place. Unless you’d rather… if you’d like… uh…”

For a moment Meredith’s gaze drifted away from her and focused on something or someone behind her. Where her gaze had been blank then surprised then a bit soft when it returned to her once more it was hard and closed off.

“Is this a joke?”

“Huh? W-what do you…” Addison turned and found who the blonde had been looking at.

Mark had stayed right where they had been still staring towards them with a grin. It seemed as if he were poking fun and he probably was. Though Addison suspected the blonde had the completely wrong idea of what Mark was making fun of.

Spinning back to the blonde she began to blabber on. “No. No. No. Meredith I would never… he’s just— it’s not what you think… why the hell does that sound worse? No wait. Listen, he’s only making sure—”

“Goodbye Doctor Montgomery.”

If she thought she was panicking before she was wrong. Seeing the flash of pain etching into Meredith’s features sent her reeling. Quickly she made her way around the nurse station and thoughtlessly grabbed her hand.

“No. Please, it's really not what you’re thinking.” Meredith’s eyes locked on where she held her hand and she quickly let go. “ sorry. I… This really isn’t a joke. I’m not trying to make a fool out of you or … or anything like that. He, Mark, is only there because he’s trying to make sure that I go through with it. Wait no… that sounds worse than before.”

“Doctor Montgomery, I really am busy.”

Meredith’s low tone made her ache. Why was this going so wrong? All she had to do was tell her she wanted to go out with her. Why had it become so much more complicated? Meredith really thought that she was playing her.

“Meredith, wait. Please let me explain. See what’s happening is that I well I just wanted to uh you know… God I’m acting worse than a child. I’m being ridiculous.” She groaned and covered her face before taking a steadying breath. “Ok, I wanted to ask you out. I… well… I really…”

Why couldn’t she finish the stupid sentence? It was simple. Just three words and done. One more deep breath and keeping her gaze on the floor she went on.

“I’ve never done this before. Y-you’re the first um woman that I ask o-out. I sorta uh l-like you…”

Once the words were finally out she felt a bit more relieved but as she dared a glance at the other woman’s face her rising panic overtook her. Meredith stared blankly at her with her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. She didn’t know what to make of the reaction. Was this good or bad?

Her panic only rose higher as the seconds ticked by with silence being the only response from the blonde. She felt a pang on her heart as she realized that maybe coming to tell her had been wrong. That now Meredith was quiet because she couldn’t think of what to say to get out of the conversation. Maybe Meredith was straight unlike Mark had suggested. Or maybe she wasn’t but she still felt this was wrong.

“I… I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” There was a deep void spreading through her heart but she continued to force the words out. “Don’t mind me or what I said. I’m sorry. Just forget it all, ok? I’ll s-see you around.”

She turned away from the blonde, ready to bolt, and feeling her heart breaking. She needed to get out of there. Mark was frowning at the other end of the hall, seemingly confused, and she turned away from him too. As she made to step away a slender hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Addison, wait!”

Turning to the blonde she saw panic in baby blue eyes. Panic she supposed she had put there when she told her she liked her. She really should go before she broke down in front of Meredith. There was only so many times her pride would allow her to make a fool out of herself.

Trying to pull her hand away she began to beg the blonde to let her go. “Please—”

“I get out in, in an hour and twenty.”

“What?”

Meredith bit her lip nervously, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. “I get out soon. So maybe we um we could go out?”

“Y-you want to?” Addison only blinked in disbelief.

“Yes. I also um well me too. Same like you.”

The blonde’s sentence was a complete mess but she understood. Suddenly, Addison could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. A smile, which Meredith nervously mirrored. Soon butterflies sprung to life in her stomach. Her fingers tingled, but it wasn’t a bad tingle. It wasn’t the nervous and panicked one. It was the excited one, the expectant one.

“You want to go out?” She asked and Meredith nodded vigorously. “O-ok. In an hour twenty?”

“Y-yeah. We can um go to Joe’s. Though I’m a little hungry—but Joe’s is fine.”

“Well there’s this sushi place I want to try. We could uh maybe go there instead?”

“Sushi’s good.” Meredith beamed at her and before she knew it the blonde had left a peck on her cheek.

Her brain almost short-circuited at the action. She could feel heat rising on her cheeks and the top of her ears. Her breath hitched, and she felt herself shudder. She was definitely going through it, but one glance at Meredith told her that the blonde was going through it worse than she was.

The pinkish hue from before had intensified into an almost crimson. Her baby blue eyes were wide in shock. It appeared as though Meredith had acted on impulse, and now it was catching up to her. She rambled incoherently and Addison found it so very cute. The blonde waved her hands around, trying to explain, maybe? Addison wasn’t sure what Meredith was saying because she was on cloud nine at the moment.

“…uh s-so an-an hour and change?”

Addison shook herself out of her stupor and nodded with a grin. “Yes. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Ok.” Meredith grinned back nervously before turning around to leave.

Before she could talk herself out of her own impulse Addison gingerly grabbed the blonde’s wrist making her stop. Before Meredith could fully turn to look at her she was already placing a soft kiss on her cheek earning herself a surprised gasp.

“Thought I’d return the favor.” She whispered before pulling away. “I’ll see you soon.”

Meredith nodded wordlessly before scurrying away with her adorable flushing self. A chuckle escaped her at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

She had been needlessly drowning herself in panic and anxiety. She had been so scared without needing to be. It appeared as though Meredith was having the same issue she was. Oh but was she ever so glad she had done it. Glad she had listened to her friend, even though for a moment that same friend had almost cost her everything.

“So… you’re going out with Grey?”

She wasn’t surprised when Mark appeared beside her. “I am. I am also going to kill you.”

“What? Why?” He brought a hand to his chest in mocked offense.

“She thought I was playing her because you were so not subtly watching us.”

“I just had to make sure you did it. I’m taking my duty as a friend and wingman seriously.”

“Oh, be quiet. Anyway, I have to go. I need to leave my written orders for tonight.”

Mark wiggled his brows suggestively, “why the hurry, Red?”

Narrowing her gaze she sized him up before speaking, “because, Mark Sloan, I have a hot date to get ready for.”

“Wow, the panic went away. Good.”

“I wasn’t panicking.”

“Denying it doesn’t make it less true.”

“Bye, Sloan.” She rolled her eyes and began to make her way to the elevators.

“I’ll walk you. Need to give you pointers.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Mhmm. So listen, take her to a nice place then you start a simple conversation. Don’t do heavy things first. Just ease into it and—”

“I know how to go on dates, Mark.” She let out already exasperated.

“I know but still I’m nothing if not a good wingman.”

“Manwhore is more like it…” She muttered under her breath.

“That’s besides the point plus I’m taken now. “ He shrugged. “So as I was saying when you so rudely interrupted. Take her to a nice place and…

Hope y’all enjoyed this messy little thing 🤭 until the next one. Stay awesome 😎

[aching-tummies]

Onion Rings RP reaponse. I'd provide the kneading-hands on your upset tummy. Definitely a "hurt it" kind of kneading too. Firm, deep kneads. I'd use my knuckles a lot, pressing deep and dragging 'em like a baker does when they wanna drag the dough against the counter. Also can't forget the "punch down" action ^^ the bloated dome gets the fist. I'm going to cause that tummy ache to bloom and enjoy your tum's grumbles and making you moan and whine and maybe burp, or more likely vomit.

This gem has been sitting in my inbox since 2021. I'm so sorry to the person that sent this because this ask is gold and I've written and scrapped over a dozen responses to it because none of them felt quite right. All the onion rings puns in this ask kind of derailed me so many times and I love them. I wonder of the “bloom” one is in reference to a “bloomin' onion”--a form of “onion ring”/deep fried onion? Whether that was intentional or not, it was perfect and has made me smile countless times since I received this ask. Thank you!

Response to this post.

I whine as yet another potential sickly belch is denied to me. My tummy grumbles unhappily, continuing to inflate with the sickly gas being produced by the greasy, messy digestion of my unhealthy snack. The drive-thru you stopped by in the way home got your order wrong and gave you onion rings instead of the fries you had asked for. Unfortunately for you, you didn't check the bag before driving home and once back home you weren't going to leave over some fries. Luckily for me, I love onion rings...or at least, I did. I love the idea of onion rings—when they're outside of me and about to be consumed. Once they're conspiring to give me a nasty, greasy case of indigestion I like them a lot less.

That's what brings us to this moment. You scarfed your burger and pawned off the onion rings and half of your Mountain Dew to me in favour of hopping into the shower. I ate the side of onion rings and downed the Dew before it had a chance to go flat. The sickly green colour of the Dew should have been warning enough not to drink it. My poor tummy feels volatile, like it's filled with radioactive sludge rather than the greasy, carbonated mess it's churning around.

“My my, what's this?”

I almost jump out of my skin at your voice in my ear. You rest your chin on my shoulder, hands sliding under my shirt to palm at my rapidly bloating belly.

“Nnngh...oww...t-tummy's...j-just a bit upset.” I murmur, still struggling to try and expel some of the gas festering in my poor belly.

You dig your palm into my gut above my navel, dragging it slowly and firmly to the left with your fingers curled to make a bit of a fist. The bumps of your knuckles knead deeply into my upset gut.

“Oh! Oooh....nnnngh...*urp*” I startle at the sudden pressure of your palm on the centre of my gut and can't help but moan at the dragging kneading.

You continue this motion, altering hands and falling into a steady rhythm. It hurts, but with each 'punch' to the centre of my belly I get the opportunity to let out a pitifully small belch. It's not much, but I can only hope that it's gradually reducing the pressure in my achy belly. The carbonation in the Dew and the greasy onion rings were conspiring to wreck my sensitive belly. Already, the stretch from my stomach bloating up with the products of indigestion is pretty uncomfortable.

We stay in that position for a few minutes. Your kneading massage gradually slows. The thudding impact of your palm starting in the centre of my belly stops, replaced by both of your hands cupping at the sides of my bloated belly and squeezing. I've got a relatively trim tummy, but the indigestion and uncomfortable bloating has caused it to dome slightly. I'd think it was cute in a miniature-basketball sort of way if it didn't come with feeling so utterly sick to my stomach.

“Nnnngh...s-so upset...oooh...h-hurts!” I groan and whine, squirming in your hold as you torment my belly. My mutterings end in a frantic exclamation as I twist in your hold. Your hands had found a particularly sore spot in my belly and kneaded firmly. “Ooof...oww...s-sorry...oww...nnngh...it really, really hurts right now. C'n...C'n we slow down a bit? G-Gentle? Oooh...m-my tummy *really, really hurts!”

You grin at my protests, arms coming back to loop around my waist as you guide us to the couch. The tea I'd been in the process of making sits, forgotten, on the counter. Pity, I'd been preparing it in hopes that it'd settle my stomach. It's an intentional move on your part. Settling my stomach will come, eventually. Throughout your shower, thoughts of a stomach ache in full bloom went through your head. You didn't dare to hope that the small side of onion rings and half a drink would create issues in my tummy, but upon stepping out to the sight of me pressing my tummy into the counter sealed it for you. The indigestion will quell, eventually, it'll run it's course probably quicker than it would if left untouched—a byproduct of getting to manhandle my guts to your heart's desire and see the limits of 'tummy ache' that you can inflict on it.

[v3nusxsky]

Fluff. The fluffiest fluff :)

Happiest of birthdays darling ♥️

Darling please | fluff

*Authors note~ this is such a cute idea and inspired by someone dear to my heart so I hope I can do it some justice and bring some comfort to them and you all my doves*

Trigger warnings~ none?

Prompt~ you're not okay! Some comforting fluff where R is on their period and suffering but trying to hide that from her girlfriend written for Abi1468 wattpad

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Being a women sucks. That was the only conclusion you could draw from your situation. Of course it is something that is very natural but did that make it easier to deal with no? No. This months Mother Nature visit is brutal. Not only did it arrive earlier than you had planned but it also brought the most horrendous cramps. The kind that leave you paralysed, keep you up all night withering around in pain and nothing would ease them. You'd tried everything of course but nothing worked. You'd been up all night now and absolutely exhausted yet you had classes to go to.  No amount of herbal teas, heat pads or painkillers were getting rid of these cramps.  Completely souring your mood and making small tasks almost impossible to complete. Honestly you couldn't even sit up without being in agony, yet you still forced yourself to function through the pain.

It had taken 30 extra minutes to get yourself ready for the day, having to stop and curl into yourself every few minutes was most definitely responsible for that. Now you only had to survive the school day then you could come back and die quietly. Didn't seem to be any reason why you should allow yourself to take a day off for something as silly as this. After all what would you say? Sorry principle weems I need a sub because i started my period? What were you 13? No you would stick this out. And absolutely under no circumstances would you slack off.

You tried to teach your first hour stood up, quickly learning that would be a disaster you switched to sitting as your desk allowing them to work from their books. After all this was a literature class, books, reading, comprehension and writing were a massive chunk of the curriculum. The second hour seemed to worsen the pain. You opted for a silent reading lesson, sitting at your desk attempting to mark some papers, failing miserably as the words continued to swirl together. Sighing you snuck a hand into your desk and took out two shiny pearl and washed them down with your coffee. You attempted to curl up without being noticeable and you thought it was a success. At least no one had made it obvious that they had caught sight of you like this.

Lessons continued as normal and you were hardly holding on by a thread. When lunch arrived you fled back to your room rather than the food hall. You made quick work of refilling the hot water bottle and resting it on your abdomen. You settled back on your bed letting out a hiss of pain. The heat seeming to provide a small bit of relief. Just enough relief for you to curl up into the hot water bottle and to give into your exhaustion.

It was the heavy knocks to your door that woke you from your nap. Groaning, you shifted to stand up and answer the door, until you caught sight of your phone. "FUCK!" You muttered to yourself in a panic. How long had to been asleep? Quickly you made your way to the door in a panic. "I'm sorry I am a little busy can you-" you words dying in your throat when you caught sight of your girlfriend, "Rissa?"

"Darling, can I come in?" She queried looking past you she could spot the messy bed, packet of pills and around your waist you were still sporting a hot water bottle. "I uh yes?" You stuttered out unsure if this was a girlfriend visit or a principle visit. If your honest you want her company, her comfort, her help but you can't seem to justify needing it. After all you had grown up being made to feel as if these were something to be hidden, only to be discussed in private and especially away from any males. Now your girlfriend wasn't male that much was obvious and you knew she got periods too but it's a hard habit to break.

You watched as your girlfriend moved around your room taking everything in. "Darling are you okay? This isn't like you" she murmured coming closer to you hoping to gather you in her arms and care for you. You seemed to flinch away at her words before mumbling "I'm okay Rissa I have a class to get to" in which she quickly interjected that you'd slept through one class already and that would mean you are not okay. "Ive cancelled the rest of your classes today darling." She informed you watching the relief flood through your eyes even if it was just for a second.

"Darling? Are you on your period ?" Her tone was soft and gentle and it caused tears to spring into your eyes as you gave her a small nod. What you were expecting was most definitely not what you got.  "Oh my love, why didn't you tell me you were in pain? I could've helped darling. Do you have everything you need?" Immediately the taller women started to real off all the comfort items you could possibly be craving or in a need of. There was no hint of upset or frustration at all. "Rissa I'm fine honestly you don't have to do this" you mumbled out embarrassed really at the care being shown your way. "Honey, I know I don't have to but I want to. Let me take care of you please? My love you shouldn't have to suffer alone." She reassured you coming to finally embrace you.

You sunk into the embrace and finally allowed yourself to cry. This was just so different and honestly you just felt so emotional you couldn't contain it. Larissa held you and swayed with you in her arms until you calmed down. Your cramps choose that exact moment to strike once more. Such a strong feeling of being stabbed caused you to double over in her arms and a whimper of pain to escape you. "Oh darling shall we get you a bath? Would that help my love? Bath some painkillers and some food?" She suggested and you couldn't help but wonder how you got so lucky. This was more than you believed deserved. True to her word Larissa drew you a bath got you some medicine and your favourite take out before snuggling with you in bed. Her hands wrapped around your lower abdomen rubbing firm slow circles into the flesh there. You couldn't help but let out a little moan at the relief it provided.

She chuckled at the reaction making sure to mentally note down you enjoyed this. "Does that feel good my darling?" You hummed in a response and lent back into her front. You were truly being spoiled with caring comforting actions and it truly made your heart fill with more love for the women. You were so lucky to have her in your life and although that meant learning new things about how you should be treated you couldn't help but be so glad you had the choice.

Word count ~ 1248

[moonjun-aus]

Hello! My debut came a little later than expected lol. 2024 barely started and oh, wow, my life is crazy! BUT!! I decided to share this story I wrote based on a dream as to not leave you all empty handed for so long. Hope you all enjoy!

Private Show | 1k words (Junhui x afab!reader, idol x idol, smut, mentions of inexperience)

Summary: Jun loves to put on a show. You love to watch.

You arrived a little earlier to your planned date with Jun at the dorms, as two idols, you had to enjoy fully the times you could see each other. Most of the guys were out already and the ones who were not— Mingyu, Minghao and Chan— were getting ready to leave for their own stuff.

Going straight for his room door, you knocked a couple of times. Yet, no response came from the other side. So, you simply opened the door and, oh well you were flabbergasted to say the least.

There he was, your boyfriend Jun, laying down on the bed. Shirtless, with his phone in one hand. And the other hand was…

“Oh fuck!” Jun noticed you and jumped up, as you immediately turned away covering your eyes to further push the embarrassment away.

“Sorry, sorry! It was all you could say, “I knocked, and you didn’t answer.”

You hear the bathroom door slamming and turned back. He was in such a hurry he left his phone unlocked. You know you shouldn’t, but you did peak a bit wondering what he was watching and masturbating too. Feeling preemptively a little hurt he’d be watching porn; yet you were pleasantly surprised to see yourself on his screen.

A fancam of your group’s newest sexy comeback. That’s hot, you thought. You and Jun hadn’t been dating for very long, only five months, so you hadn’t been together that way yet. Not only because of the duration of the relationship, but also because of your inexperience. You wanted to take a bit slow.

But you certainly didn’t stop your mind from wandering while watching his fancams or fan edits. And you were immediately turned on he’d do the same. So, taking slow wasn’t exactly very easy at that moment.

You snapped off your thoughts as Jun reappeared, looking like he took a quick shower. Unfortunately for you, he was back at wearing a shirt and keen on acting as nothing had happened.

Knowing that addressing would embarrass both of you unnecessarily, you went on with your movie date. Midway through the movie—that you were barely paying attention to— your mind wandered back to the scene. Usually between the two of you, you were the shyest one when it came to PDA. But you decided: not today, you’re not!

After coming back from drinking some water in the kitchen, you paused the movie and he turned to you, expecting some make out session in the horizon surely.

“Hey, Jun. I want something to ask you.” You gulped, then he did the same. “Do you often masturbate to videos of me?” You said as fast as you could. Scoups would be proud, you chuckled mentally.

“Huh? What did you say?” His eyes gave him away: he already heard you.

“I know you do,” you decided to tease. “But that’s not the point of this.”

“Oh? What is it then?” Jun turned fully to you, taking your hands in his.

“Can… Can I,” your confidence a bit lost as his fingers massaged yours, both of you knowing exactly what he was doing. “Can I watch you?”

“You want to watch me, masturbating?” He whispered. He seemed taken back, perhaps he was expecting another question. You’d never know. “Well, you know I don’t deny putting up a show but… You really want to watch me? Did I turn you on?”

“Well, duh.” You shrugged. “But it’s fine if you don’t want to. I know it’s very personal and…”

“For you, I can do anything you ask, babe.” He interrupted you. “Go sit on the beanbag. Your show will start.”

So that’s you did. You watched as he closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, his brown hair messy, his blue sleeveless shirt and black sweatpants. You were getting so shy, and he hadn’t even started anything. But you were thankful that 10-minute-ago you were brave enough to ask for the scene, because when he started massaging his member, through his pants, you knew you were in for the time of your life. No performance would ever compare. Unless it’s a collab between us, you thought. But that was for another time. Right now, you wanted to simply enjoy that man.

And, oh, he did make a show for you. His strokes started slow, focusing mainly on the head of his semi-erect penis, as he lowered the sweatpants and underwear to reveal it to you. The size of it was surprising, despite you already having your thoughts; the reality was indeed better.

He kept changing his speed, teasing himself for your entertainment. His low grunts almost making up your name. But you knew he would play hard to get a little bit. If you wanted to hear him moan, you’d have to give him more motivation. You stayed in your seat, your thighs closed together, feeling the pool forming up in your panties. You no longer wanted to watch only. You wanted to kiss his beautiful lips, kiss his neck with the veins popping. Lick his dick up and down. Take him in your mouth, as he deserved.

“Babe, come here.” Jun finally said, motioning to you with his left hand. “I need… ugh… inspiration.”

Like the good girlfriend you were, you didn’t waste time getting your cute ass across the room and sat down on the sofa next to him.

“No. Sit here,” he grunted, tapping his thigh. “I want you to hump my thighs. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded. But, to his surprise, you stood up. Not that you wouldn’t do it, but if he needed inspiration, you’d give it to him. You slid your black panties off your legs, without taking your skirt, and only then you straddled his thigh.

“Can I touch you, Junnie?” You asked, as you started to grind very slowly. You were focused on his hard cock so much, that that was enough stimulus for you and didn’t let you focus on grinding on his thigh.

“Y-yes… please,” he answered, already taking your hand in his and guiding to his dick.

He used his own to guide you for a bit, with you keeping your grip rather loose. He was showing you how he liked, and you were being the best student. When he took his hand away, you decided to show off what you learned by watching him. Your grip on his dick tightened only slightly and that was enough to make him sigh. You sped up a little your movements, soon making your boyfriend start to moan like an angel.

When he was about to come, his pleas got desperate, burying his head on your neck, nipping at it. When he came, you were curious to taste him, so you licked your fingers clean of his cum.

“Jun… I have another question for you.” You whispered in his ear, as he took a couple of deep breaths.

He only managed to make a “hmm?” sound, so you continued, while you kissed his sweaty neck.

“Can you fuck me now?”

[reverseflashes]

Hello!

I’m trying to write a story or at least a short one. Where Constantine and Raven cross paths with the Rogues. I have a pretty good idea for it but even though I’ve read comics. I still don’t fully understand them I need an idea about there personality and fighting style. I’m hoping that with your help and a few other Rogue fans. I can get a better idea. Cause finding proper information is like finding a needle in a haystack for them. Constantine is literally the easiest out of all of them.😭

I really hope for good information. I want to do right by them.🥺

Anyway my chosen Rogue’s are… Captain Cold, Heatwave, Mirror Master, Weather Wizard, Captain Boomerang and Trickster (Axel Walker).

Basically the ones in comics right now.

P.S. I’m also mad about Owen. He had so much potential.

Every time I checked my inbox and saw this meage on top, I reminded myself to answer it some time the same day. And every time, I forgot. I don't even know where to begin to apologize, nonnie, especially it's been exactly a month since you've sent me this. I hope, if you are still around, and if you see this, you can forgive me. And if you are pissed at me, then you are completely right too I'M SO SORRY I SWEAR

To be honest, I can read every issue every Rogues member has ever appeared in (and for some members, I did lol) and still would not be good at answering questions like this. I'll tag few blogs I know post about the Rogues at the end of my response and tag this properly so that more people will see it and hopefully share their opinions as well. :)

I apologize in advance if this is very scattered, all over the place but I've never been very good at explaining stuff like this so... yeah.

I'm assuming the fight takes between John&Raven and the Rogues.

The Rogues are Flash's villains. And Flash has superspeed; and having superspeed comes with infinite amount of skills and abilities. There is really nothing a speedster can't do. So how does the Rogues, a bunch of non-powered criminals (except for Mark, if we want to go into a bit detail lol) with only their gadgets and costumes keep up with him? How can a speedster like Barry Allen can struggle against the Rogues sometimes?

The answer is that the Rogues have the advantage of planning their heists in advance. Excessive planning, may I add! Rogues don't have to keep up with Flash's whereabouts, because Flash will always go where the Rogues exactly want him. But the Flash doesn't have the advantage of always anticipating the Rogues' next move. There are so many other reasons of course but no need to go into more details. So, in your story, whether the Rogues plans the fight with John and Raven ahead or if it occurs completely spontaneous, I believe the Rogues wouldn't be caught off guard. I mean, they fight speedsters on a weekly basis, so it is hard for them to get intimitated by anyone else.

Now another thing, and I don't know if it's just me or if it is a fandom thing, but I always got the impression that Rogues hate magic. Like I always believed that to be a fact. They don't like it at all. Maybe "superpowers" is what they really don't like but I guess, to them, it's all the same.

Len in The Flash #750

Rogues don't want to get involved in anything that is above their paygrade. They hate their plans getting out of control and things getting messy and magic IS messy, that is an understatement. So you can use this in the story; they will fight John and Raven if they have to, but they won't care about winning. Of course, they CAN win the fight, but if you use the canon fact that the Rogues never faced John and Raven before in your story, then I assume winning wouldn't be their priority. They'll buy themselves time while putting the capes through their paces (damn right 😎).

You can focus on the Rogues' gadgets as well. In my personal opinion, Mirror Gun is the most powerful and dangerous out of all of them: it can open portals, it can create duplicates, it can fire bolts of light energy, IT CAN HYPNOTIZE AND MIND CONTROL PEOPLE, it can be used to transmute objects into glass, it can be used for dimensional travel, it can trap people inside those mirror dimensions etc... (SOURCES: here and here)

Here is a panel of Sam blinding Wonder Woman with his Mirror Gun. Justice League America #158

I put this panel especially because Wonder Woman is heavily affiliated with magic.

You can find more info on their gadgets on the internet, and if you'd like, I can look into it and send you some links if I can find anything.

I was gonna mention Hartley and his flute too but I realized that he isn't in the Rogues in your story so I'll skip that.

And lastly, I'd recommend you read New Year's Evil: Rogues, a one-shot where the Rogues are in the land of Zhutan searching for a powerful sun disk of Meshta (the creator god of the Saravistraism- DC’s version of Zoroastrianism) to make their souls eternally free from Neron (DC’s version of Satan). It involves heavy supernatural themes so maybe it helps.

Also, Teen Titans: Cold Case might be a good read. There is a fight between Teen Titans and the Rogues and although magic isn't in the center, Rogues fight against members Cyborg, Red Devil and Wonder Girl (Cassie). (And Vic and Tim actually admit that they couldn't take the Rogues!)

And most importantly, they fight as a TEAM and a FAMILY. Their diverse skills and abilities complete each other, thanks years of working and planning and fighting together side by side.

Soooo yeah. I'm pretty sure I forgot half the things I was gonna add and forty thousand anecdotes but that's why I'll tag some of the awesome people in the Rogues fandom underneath this so that they can add their own opinions as well. If they want, of course, no pressure! Please feel free to ignore this.

Thank you so very very very much for your message nonnie. And I'm so so so very sorry for taking so long to answer it. I hope I made it up to you a little.

@gorogues @tricksterrune @t-bombs @longitudinalwaveme @belphegor1982 @saltywithsarcasm @smartshipfriday my brain is all over the place rn i can't think of anyone else but if you see this in the search or on your dash pls feel free to reblog it and share your opinions <33

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

K. Canon has it that the Togami family heir is supposed to choose at least 15 partners to have children with so that said children can compete to become the next heir. Byakuya’s father had 108, but that’s beside the point I’m making, which is that: Byakuya agreed to seal himself within the academy walls forever WITH FIFTEEN OTHERS. He chose his partners, whether he remembered it or not. Adding greater context to that alternate ending where everyone has children with each other.

Oh yeah! I think I recall hearing of this interpretation before! 'Tis an interesting lil thought experiment. It's not my personal interpretation of the events but it's an intriguing take! In this specific interpretation, I could see Byakuya treating this as just a task to complete. No actual connection is there. Just do the deed, make the baby! Get in, get out. Like clocking out of a boring job. No passion, no attachment. Nada. Or least, nothing planned or anything! Also, wasn't sure where to add this but I am semi sure that the 108 number came from those Togami novels which is just a foggy observation of mine. Also remember the specific number from Super Danganronpa Goodbye Despair in those free time events with Twogami. (prob shouldn't be asking this right after I woke up O-O) One other thing I shall say is that, once the killing game occurs and all, could be an interesting thing going on like, will Byakuya EVER remember that he, yes, chose to be sealed away with the other 15 but SPECIFICALLY with the thought of breeding purposes? Cus, memory loss can be messy and those little details might be lost. Also, there could be misremembering of some events or wording as well. And, if he DOES remember, will he have strong opinions about it? Would he just shake his head and sigh for his younger self being so naive that a plan like that could even work or be feasible? Stuff like that! Just sending this little question out there for the thought experiment though cus golly... I don't have any answers of my own. Also, since the bad ending of THH was mentioned, I must delve into this once more. Here it is for everyone's viewing pleasure!

Still goofy to me how Kodaka just said that Toko just exploded. Rip. She got way too close to a Minecraft Creeper or something. What a way to go! By the way, I am unsure where to add this and like, I don't PERSONALLY feel this way since I don't really feel this way for others but, Hiro. I feel he has some untapped appeal for the masses. Like, I feel that Bad Ending Hiro is at least SOMEONE'S type.

Now, for what I was actually gonna blabber a bit about. AHEM I've said it before and I'll say it again! Bad Ending Byakuya! WHYYY? And how?!? Seriously, how does he look so precious?! And dorky too?! Cus that is the happiest he ever looks and the only time he's in casual ass clothes officially without the addition of some promotional collabs Danganronpa has had. And it's not even like, canon. Cus, bad ending and the real canon is where Kyoko lives and they all beat up Junko in the face! But aaaa! It crushes me so much cus that ending was so dumb and just a WEE bit cursed and also that he just WENT for it! Outta everybody there, Byakuya just looked at Aoi and did it! Side note, since this is funny for me to say. Kyoko had to die for this. Like, Kyoko had to die for these 4 to bang, Toko to go big boom, and Byakuya to look this chill and this casual for once and his dang life. (side note to the side note. he's staring at me and i dunno what to do/hj) Moreover, one other thing. Like, poor Aoi and her genes just did NOT go through. Cus every single baby is a mini-me of the others!! Ahem. Sorry there. I got side tracked. This got so disjointed after. That's what I got! Hope this was an okay and adequate response and that the entertainment levels were serviceable :D