#this is the first time I’ve ever actually done a background

[angstyoni]

Season Opener.

Summary: F1 decides they want to announce they're coming to South Korea in a unique way. So they decide to get a group of female drivers from F1 Academy to perform K-Pop songs to announce it at the season opener. A season opener that those groups end up attending. What happens when the newest driver on the scene catches the eye of a certain group?

A/N: I'm a bit newer to K-Pop, and more specifically Enhypen, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I usually write for a very different genre, so I apologise if this isn't like the usual K-Pop fics on here. But I just needed to write this down. Also torn if I should write this as Heeseung x Reader or Jay x Reader. Let me know!

If you had asked me a year ago if I’d ever listen to kpop, the answer would have been a solid maybe. If you asked me if I would ever be performing covers of the songs, the answer would have been a solid no.

But here I was, backstage at the season launch event in Australia, a few hours away from performing K-Pop songs in front of all my work colleagues. Oh, and the K-Pop groups we were performing the songs of. No pressure at all. Not in the slightest. Especially when I’d accidentally started singing to one of the songs during one of the rehearsal periods with the companies of the respective groups, and now not only were we dancing, we were also singing. Well for those of us that could, we would be. Which wasn’t many. Out of a grid of twenty drivers taking part in this in some way, only eight of us would be dancing the entire thing, and only four of us would be singing.

”Why are you so nervous?” Tina asks as she falls into the make up chair next to me. “Aren’t you in a band? You should be use to this.”

I roll my eyes at her and lightly shake my head so I don’t mess up the make up the girl is trying to do on me. “Yes but I’m either playing my bass guitar or I’m just singing. I’ve never done choreography and singing like this.” I tell her.

”She’s not wrong. It’s like my first F1 Academy race. Yeah I’ve raced before, but I was still nervous as hell for my first race.” Lia adds from the other side of me.

This was my first year in F1 Academy, but I’d quickly fallen into a friendship with these two. Which I was very glad for. A lot of the girls didn’t like me. Mainly because I hadn’t come from a racing background. I was a former twitch streamer, who’d fallen into simulator racing and had caught the eye of Red Bull along the way. They’d been quick to sign me for their e-sport team, and for simulator testing. During that time they thought it would be interesting to throw me into a car and see what I could do with the real thing on a test day. And I’d somehow taken to it better than any of them could have expected.

Over time they’d thrown me into more testing, more sessions. But when I’d asked for a chance to do more, they’d said no. Said I was just a gamer who’d gotten lucky. That I didn’t have the experience to actually race. But during that testing time I’d caught the attention of another team due to one of their drivers. McLaren and Lando Norris. He’d seen my streams and had managed to catch some of the test drives I’d done on some race weekends. So he’d approached Zak. And before I knew it I’d been asked to meet with him before the start of last season. And even though I’d been signed with Red Bull, I was a McLaren fan from the start. No one in their wildest dreams would turn down a meeting with the CEO of their favourite team.

And I didn’t have a single regret. I’d walked in expecting just to meet with Zak, but had walked into Zak, Lando, Oscar and Oscar’s manager Mark. All of them smiling at me as I’d entered the meeting room in a hotel we’d agreed to meet at so we wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention. There they’d laid out wanting me to be apart of their simulation and performance program, with the high potential to be a driver from them in one of the racing series if all went well. The next day I signed my contract with McLaren racing and with Mark as my manager. It was a dream come to. And a lifeline I’d very much needed with Red Bull calling me in the next day to say they weren’t renewing my contract for the year. Claiming I wasn’t performing well. Even though I’d won the e-sports league for the team with very little help from the other two drivers. I still remembered the confused looks on their faces when I’d smiled and said ok before walking out of the building like they’d given me the best news ever. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to see their reactions the next day when McLaren announced me as driver for them. And within the first few months they’d offered me a contract for a spot on their F1 Academy team. Most teams only sponsored one driver, but McLaren wanted to be the first to have two drivers on the grid. And I’d happily accepted. Which is what led me to nearly eight months of preparing for this launch.

I could have said no to it. But there was some part of me that was excited to try something new. And with how my new racing career had taken off, I’d missed getting the chance to perform. Only getting to do it here and there. And despite the fact I’d never done professional dancing in my life, I’d enjoyed it. Enjoyed learning the moves, dancing to the music, putting my own twist on the moves and making it my own. At first I’d been scared it wouldn’t go ahead. They’d flown us all to Korea to meet with the companies that had shown interest in the idea put forward by Formula 1. They’d wanted to meet us all in person, see how we moved, and see if it was something we could pull off. And by some miracle, by the end of the week they had agreed it could be done. And here we were, about to perform the performance we’d put together.

”And you two don’t have the added stress of doing a bloody solo in front of everyone.” I mutter before wincing as the hair stylist starts pulling on my hair.

”You’re going to nail it.” Tina says with an excited smile.

”Yeah, you’ve been killing it in rehersals. You’re going to do fine.” Lia adds with a nod.

”Performing in a room with like twenty people is far different to a room full of hundreds of people. And now the groups we’ve been learning the songs of.” I point out.

At first the groups weren’t going to be here. The companies not sure what the schedules would be like. But by some miracle they’d all been free. And some of the members and groups even having invites from brands they worked with. So now the three groups were going to be sitting front and centre to watch us more than likely butcher their work.

”Stop worrying. Once you’re in your outfit, hair and makeup all done and on that stage, you’ll be fine. They’re going to love us.” Lia says confidently.

I go to retort, but clamp my mouth shut as the hair stylist starts yanking my hair into the braid needed to add the hair piece they had gotten made for me. But Lia was right. As I looked in the mirror make up done, outfit on and hair on the way, I could already feel myself slipping into my familiar performing mindset. I could do this. Just keep my in-ears in, block everything out and just focus on the music and dance moves. I could do this.

Beneath the stage the noise was deafening. I could hear the music pumping for the intro of the showcase. The season opener. A new thing they’d decided to do this year. I don’t know why they hadn’t combined this with the livery launch, but I wasn’t going to question it. Above me I can hear the crowd cheering as footsteps each overhead. As they pass, the floor of the stage is lowered for me. I step onto the plate before taking my chrome red microphone from the stage tech who was helping me for the first two songs.

”Welcome to the start of the 2025 Formula 1 season, and thank you for joining us for the season opener here in Melbourne Australia.” The presenter announces as the crowd claps and cheers. ”And what better way to start the season than with a little announcement for the 2026 season.”

Instantly the crowd hums with curiosity. Even from here I can hear the hushed whispers that pick up around the room at his words. Next year was already a big year with regulation and car changes. So for another thing to be dropped, everyone was curious. Not even the team principles and CEO’s had any idea of what was coming.

”But instead of me telling you what the news is, we have a little performance some of the drivers have been working on for quite some time. So I’ll let them show you.”

Instantly the room above me goes dark. The hiss of the smoke machine going off as smoke floats across the stage. The stage tech gives me a thumbs up, signalling it’s my turn. I give them a nod before putting my last in-ear in and standing up on the platform as the music starts, the stage flooded with red lights as the platform rises.

[sp00ky9]

Phantomfam Christmas!! 🎄🎄

[nextstopwonderland]

.

[marionluth]

Jason: Man, it would’ve been so cool if I was a ghost before getting resurrected.

Bruce:

Dick:

Tim: Oddly, I kind of want to hear you elaborate on that.

Jason: First thing I’d do? Haunt the absolute fuck out of B. Drive him so insane, he’d actually kill the Joker.

Tim: I wouldn’t allow it.

Jason: Oh, you would, because I’d make you lose your mind until you caved.

Tim: Impossible.

Jason: Think about it: every time you closed your eyes—there I am. Costume still on, beaten-to-death, bleeding, bones sticking out everywhere, face so swolen and deformed you'd shit your pants.

Every time you'd glance behind you I'd be standing there. Every mirror, you'd look in, there is the broken Robin staring at you. Every gargoyle you pass, every time you wore the costume, every time you turn on your comms, you’d hear my voice going, “avenge me” or “you’re next.”

Dick: Dude…

Jason: Oh, I’m not done. I’d rearrange all the keys on your keyboard so they spell “Jason” in the center. I’d mess with your playlists, so every song glitches at least once into a sound of me screaming. I’d move your skateboard just enough to trip you up. I’d open random books to pages that say “avenge” or “revenge” and leave them all around the manor.

Tim: That is… worryingly detailed.

Jason: I'd change all your passwords to 'letJokerdie' and 'avengeJason123'. I'd change the batcomputet background to my photo as Robin. I'd add #justiceforJason to every social post you ever made.

Dick: Dude, you’ve really thought about this.

Jason: *shrugging* I’ve kept notes. You know, just in case.

Bruce: *eye twitching* You’re never dying again.

Jason: *flipping the table* How do you know, bitch? Joker’s still alive!

[goldsainz]

# DREW STARKEY — BEHIND THE SCENES !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ a recollection of moments from when you and drew filmed your first movie together.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ probably inaccurate acting scenes, slight angst.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i’ve spent more time conjuring up ideas about the fictional movie (knowing greek mythology paid off) than actually writing this. again, zendaya is just a face claim for the social media parts but the reader can be imagined as anything or anyone you want! this is also the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done so i really hope it was worth the wait 🫶

word count : 6,6k

There was something undeniably thrilling about starting a new movie project. It wasn’t just the act of filming that exhilarated you, no, it was the entire experience: stepping into a fresh role, meeting new colleagues, and immersing yourself in the intricacies of a new story. Each character brought a unique set of challenges and emotions, making acting as intoxicating as it was fulfilling.

When your agent first mentioned Damien Chazelle’s latest project, it felt like the stars had aligned. A psychological thriller, a role so complex and sought after—it was the kind of opportunity actors dream about. After various auditions and callbacks, you finally got the call: you’d landed the part. But nothing could have prepared you for the shock of learning that Drew Starkey would also be starring in the film.

You’d first met Drew during Variety’s Actors on Actors interview series. The chemistry between you two had been immediate, magnetic, and brimming with potential. The interview itself was lighthearted, but fans couldn’t stop buzzing about the dynamic between you afterward. Social media was flooded with calls for you both to star in a film together. Little did they know that dream would soon become reality.

Your first day on set felt surreal. Despite all your preparation, a flicker of nervous energy pulsed in your chest. It wasn’t just about embodying Isabella, a role that demanded every ounce of emotional depth you had; it was about reuniting with Drew after the whirlwind of speculation and excitement that followed your previous encounter.

Then, as if on cue, you spotted him. He stood across the bustling set, deep in conversation with Damien Chazelle. Already in costume—tailored slacks, an impeccably pressed shirt, and a hint of disheveled hair that somehow enhanced his charm—he looked every bit the enigmatic and manipulative art dealer, Theo. It was almost unsettling how effortlessly he slipped into character.

A pang of nervous energy tightened in your chest, but you masked it quickly. You were no stranger to working alongside talented actors, but something about Drew made you want to push yourself even harder—to impress him, match his intensity, or simply hold your own against the charisma that seemed to radiate from him.

As Drew turned and caught sight of you, his expression shifted. A flicker of recognition passed over his face, followed by a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He excused himself from his conversation with Damien and strode toward you, his step casual yet deliberate.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, his tone teasing but undeniably warm. “The artist herself.”

“Drew,” you replied, matching his energy with a smirk. “Or should I say, Theo?”

“Touché,” he shot back, his grin widening as he stopped in front of you. “Guess we’re both stepping into some big shoes this time.”

The air between you hummed with unspoken energy, the hum of the crew around you fading into the background.

“So,” he began, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. “How are you feeling about all this? Ready to dive into the chaos?”

You chuckled softly, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And you?”

His gaze softened, the playful edge giving way to something earnest. “Same. But if there’s anyone who can bring Isabella to life, it’s you. You’ve got this.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, bolstering your confidence. “Thanks, Drew,” you said, your voice touched with gratitude. “That means a lot.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Just don’t forget to save some of that intensity for the scenes. I hear Theo and Isabella have… interesting dynamics.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curving your lips. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. Just try to keep up, Starkey.”

His laughter was genuine, the kind that made your chest feel lighter. “Challenge accepted.”

The set had an almost electric feel today. The tension in the air mirrored the intensity of the scene you were about to film, a confrontation that pushed Isabella to her limits. Drew had just finished his scenes as Theo, but instead of retreating to his trailer for a break, he chose to stay behind the cameras, watching you as you prepared for your big moment.

He leaned against a quiet corner of the set, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving you. You were already in character, your body language shifting as you transformed into Isabella. Drew had seen it all; the way you could disappear into your role, the way you made every moment feel alive, even the smallest of gestures. It was magnetic, captivating, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You were standing across from a male crew member, discussing the next scene. Drew noticed how naturally you interacted with him, the ease with which you joked around, the warm laughter that escaped you as you shared a quiet moment between takes. There was nothing flirtatious about it, nothing intentional. It was just your charm, your ability to connect with anyone, to make them feel like they were the only person in the room.

But as Drew watched, a pang of something unfamiliar twisted in his chest. The crew member—an assistant director, he knew—was praising you. “You’ve really outdone yourself today,” the man said with a grin, clapping you on the back. “Isabella’s depth? Incredible. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone pull that off quite like you.”

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with the kind of humility that made Drew’s heart ache. “Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” you said, clearly grateful for the acknowledgment but never one to boast.

Drew’s grip on the railing tightened, a strange feeling settling in his gut as he watched you laugh and engage so effortlessly. He had always admired your talent—hell, he had always been in awe of it—but today, for some reason, it felt different. The warmth in the crew member’s praise, the way he seemed to linger a little longer, a little too long, sent a sharp twinge of jealousy through Drew. He hated the way it felt, hated how quickly it consumed him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be appreciated—he did. You deserved all the recognition in the world. But the knowledge that someone else was seeing the very qualities he had admired in you from the start, that someone else could see what made you so unique... it made something inside him stir.

And it wasn’t just admiration he felt for you—it was something deeper, something he had tried to ignore ever since that first interview. He could remember the spark between you both, the effortless connection that had only grown stronger since then. Every moment with you, every conversation, had somehow led him here. To this feeling, this painful realization that he wasn’t just drawn to you as a friend or a co-star—he was falling for you.

But he wasn’t sure if you saw him the same way. Or if you ever would.

He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, gnawing at him as the scene began. Drew watched from the shadows as you took your position, your posture shifting with the weight of Isabella’s inner turmoil. The camera rolled, and the world seemed to disappear. He wasn’t thinking about the crew member anymore, or the way you had smiled at him.

No, Drew was too focused on the way you delivered your lines. Every word you spoke seemed to come from a place of real pain, real desperation. It was like watching a storm roll in, one that consumed everything in its path.

When Damien called cut, the set fell silent for a beat. Drew’s breath caught in his throat. You were brilliant. He’d known it for a long time, but watching you right here, right now, brought it all to the forefront—how far you had come, how much of yourself you put into every scene.

He watched you stand tall, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes still distant from the intensity of the scene you’d just played. And as you looked around, Drew’s gaze softened. You were remarkable.

The crew member who had been praising you earlier walked up to you again, and Drew couldn’t help but feel that same uncomfortable stir in his chest. He had to admit, it wasn’t just the praise that bothered him—it was the way this guy kept looking at you. Drew quickly averted his eyes, his jaw tightening as he turned his attention back to the crew.

But as you turned toward Drew, your eyes meeting his for just a second, something passed between you, something unspoken. You offered him a small, genuine smile, the kind that only he seemed to get. And in that brief moment, everything else faded away.

He took a breath, forcing the jealousy back down. The weight of it, the sting, wasn’t going to cloud this moment. He knew what he felt. It was real, it was undeniable, and maybe, just maybe, there was still time to figure it all out. But for now, all he could do was admire you from afar, watch as you brought your character to life, and hope that one day, you’d see him the way he saw you.

And with that thought, Drew finally stepped forward, his resolve firming, ready to give you the space and respect you deserved while also knowing that there was so much more he wanted to say.

The scene you were filming was a culmination of everything Isabella had been building toward—raw, vulnerable, and utterly shattering. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a reckoning, the moment when all her carefully buried pain and longing erupted to the surface. Every word you spoke felt like tearing open a wound, every gesture a desperate plea for salvation. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel the weight of every eye on set, holding their breath, waiting to see if you could pull it off.

Drew, as Theo, stood before you, towering in every sense of the word. His presence wasn’t just physical; it consumed the space, dominating the scene like a storm about to break. His voice, low and cutting, delivered lines that felt like knives slicing through the air, leaving no room to hide. When his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity was unbearable, like he could see right into you—not just Isabella, but you.

The camera captured the moment your composure shattered, tears spilling as your voice cracked under the weight of the scene. You weren’t sure where Isabella ended and you began anymore. The pain felt too real, too sharp, and when Damien finally called “cut,” the word sliced through the tension like a knife. The silence that followed was deafening, a stark contrast to the storm you’d just weathered.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the rawness of the moment clinging to you like a second skin. Your chest heaved as you struggled to come back to yourself, but the emotions wouldn’t let go. Your hands trembled at your sides, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought you might break apart completely.

“Hey,” Drew’s voice cut through the haze, soft but insistent. His hand was on your arm before you even realized he’d crossed the room. His touch was grounding, his presence a lifeline. “Look at me,” he said, his tone low, coaxing.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his eyes, and the concern there undid you. Your breath hitched, and a tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it. “I… I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” you whispered, the words tumbling out, raw and unfiltered. “It’s too much. I feel like I’m drowning.”

Drew didn’t hesitate. He stepped closer, his hand sliding from your arm to your shoulder, then to the small of your back, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. You froze for a moment, caught between the instinct to hold it together and the overwhelming need to let go. His arms wrapped around you, warm and steady, and the dam broke.

“I can’t,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “I feel like I left everything out there, and there’s nothing left of me. Nothing.”

His grip tightened, his hand cradling the back of your head as his fingers threaded gently through your hair. “Shh,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not empty. You’re just wide open right now, and that’s what makes this real. That’s what makes you extraordinary.”

You clung to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked your body. He didn’t rush you, didn’t try to fix it or make it better. He just held you, his own breathing steady and calm, like he was anchoring you to the world.

“I saw you out there,” he whispered after a moment, his lips brushing against your temple. “You weren’t just acting. You were her. Every ounce of pain, every flicker of hope—you brought it to life. You made them feel it. You made me feel it.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-streaked face tilted up to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, his own emotions barely restrained, and the vulnerability between you was electric. “But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice breaking.

“It is,” he said firmly, his hand cupping your face now, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “It’s more than enough. You’re enough.” His voice cracked on the last word, the raw sincerity in it making your chest tighten.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sounds of the crew preparing for the next take fading into the background. All you could see, all you could feel, was Drew. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his hand steadying your shoulder.“You’ve got this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laced with unwavering conviction. “And I’ve got you. Always.”

The day had been long—endless takes, precision, and the kind of emotional exhaustion that made every muscle in your body ache. Filming had wrapped for the day, but the atmosphere on set hadn’t fully shifted. The quiet hum of equipment and the occasional voices from the crew still echoed around you, but you felt the weight of the day lift as you retreated to the solitude of your trailer.

You were halfway through removing your costume when a soft knock at the door caught your attention. It was a gentle knock, familiar in its rhythm, and you immediately recognized it.

“Come in,” you called, already knowing who it was.

The door creaked open, and there stood Drew, leaning against the frame with a lazy smile that instantly made the tension in your shoulders ease.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, and there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes, but it was tempered with something warmer, something more tender.

“Understatement,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though your smile betrayed the exhaustion you were trying to hide.

He nodded and pushed the door open a little more, stepping inside. The space felt smaller with him in it, but somehow it didn’t feel crowded. It felt… comfortable. Safe.

Drew’s gaze drifted over to the small sofa beside the window, and without a word, he took a seat, kicking his shoes off and stretching his legs out. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he seemed to move, like he was made to fit into this small space as if he belonged here, with you.

You finished removing the last of the costume and dropped it into the nearby hamper, but instead of diving into your usual post-filming routine of unwinding, you found yourself walking over to him, drawn to the quiet energy between you. He looked up at you, his gaze softening as you neared.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, as if the very sound of it could pull you closer.

You didn’t hesitat to sit down beside him. There was a comfortable silence between you two, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. You leaned back against the cushions, the heat from his body radiating beside you.

Drew turned his head slightly, catching your eye. His expression was different from how he’d been on set—this wasn’t the charismatic, calculated Theo. This was Drew, the man you had come to know off-camera. His gaze was tender, almost searching, as if he was asking permission for something more.

Without a word, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours before lacing them together. The small contact sent a flutter through you, the simple act of his touch carrying an intimacy that felt far more profound than it had any right to be.

“Can I just…” he began, his voice trailing off for a moment before he squeezed your hand gently. “Can I just be here with you for a while? No cameras, no lines, just us?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’d like that.”

His thumb began to trace soft circles over the back of your hand, and you leaned into him, the quiet between you two settling into something even deeper than physical proximity. His body was warm, and his scent—fresh and slightly woody—wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting in its familiarity.

“You were incredible today,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His words held no pretense, just raw sincerity. “Every time I see you step into a scene, it’s like you bring something new to the table. I don’t know how you do it.”

You could feel your heart flutter at his praise, but instead of letting it sink in fully, you shifted your focus back to him, tilting your head slightly to catch his eyes. “What about you? You’re kind of a force to be reckoned with, Starkey.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine, and you felt him shift closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “I’m just trying to keep up with you,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his voice. He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he moved his hand from yours, slowly resting it on your cheek, his touch soft but possessive. The weight of his gaze locked onto yours, and you could feel the air shift between you—charged, magnetic, undeniable.

“I’ve wanted this moment for a while,” he admitted quietly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

Your pulse quickened, your breath hitching as his hand slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You didn’t fight it; you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with the kind of quiet longing that had built between you for weeks now.

The kiss deepened, and everything outside of the small trailer seemed to fade away. There was no set, no crew, no expectations—just the two of you, wrapped up in the space you had created together. It wasn’t hurried or urgent. It was soft, a tender promise without words, like something neither of you had realized you needed until it was happening.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you found yourself leaning your forehead against his, sharing the same air between you. He smiled, his eyes glimmering with something that went beyond attraction.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.

You closed your eyes, savoring the quiet after the storm of emotions on set, the gentle sound of his heartbeat in your ear, and the warmth of his embrace. “Me too,” you whispered back, letting the moment stretch on, knowing it was one you’d carry with you long after the lights went down and the cameras stopped rolling.

The morning after your quiet, intimate moment in the trailer felt different. There was a strange kind of weight in the air between you and Drew that neither of you could ignore. The atmosphere on set was charged with an unspoken energy, the kind that hung between two people who had shared something personal but weren’t quite sure how to navigate it in the daylight.

As the crew began setting up for the first scene of the day, you found yourself standing off to the side, absentmindedly checking your script, but every now and then, your eyes would flicker toward Drew. He was standing with Damien, talking animatedly about something, but there was a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. He had always exuded confidence, but now, there was a subtle hesitance to his movements—like he was still figuring out where you stood with each other after the kiss.

You could feel it too. The usual camaraderie between you two was laced with something different now. The chemistry was still there, but it felt like a live wire; dangerous and unpredictable. The playful banter that had flowed so easily between you the day before seemed distant, replaced by awkward silences whenever you found yourselves in the same vicinity.

You tried to shake it off. This was your job. You were here to work, to give your best performance, and that had to come first. But no matter how much you told yourself to focus, the tension was inescapable.

The first scene you were filming together was a pivotal one—Isabella’s first real confrontation with Theo, a moment where everything changes between them. Your character was supposed to be cool and collected, but deep down, she was unraveling at the seams. You had to bring all that turmoil, all that internal chaos to the surface in a matter of moments.

When Damien called “Action,” the professional masks slipped on almost instinctively, and you both fell into character.

Drew’s performance was colder today, more distant, his usual charm replaced by a simmering, quiet intensity. His eyes, once warm and full of teasing, now held a cold calculation as they met yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, and though it was just acting, the memory of the night before lingered, making the scene feel even more charged than it should have been.

“You think you have control of this, Isabella?” Theo’s voice was sharp, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

You shot back, the defiance in Isabella’s eyes glaring through your own. “Your entire scheme depends on me, Theo. Without me, it crumbles to dust. If that’s not control, I don’t know what is.”

The words came easily, but every time you locked eyes with Drew, there was a brief flicker of something behind his gaze—a flicker of the intimacy you’d shared, a memory that was suddenly alive in the space between you. It was hard to shake, and you could tell it was affecting his performance too. His lines weren’t as crisp as usual, his timing slightly off, as though he was distracted.

The tension was palpable, hanging over the scene like a cloud, and the moment you wrapped the scene, the silence that followed felt deafening.

Damien looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Let’s take a break,” he said after a moment, clearly sensing the shift in energy. “Maybe a few minutes to reset?”

You nodded quickly, eager for the space, for the chance to breathe outside of the tight bubble of tension. Drew, on the other hand, didn’t say anything. He simply nodded curtly, giving you a quick glance that made your stomach flip before turning away to walk toward the corner of the set.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Should you approach him? Pretend nothing had changed? Or should you give him space, let the awkwardness settle, and let the scene breathe?

You didn’t get the chance to think too long. A hand gently touched your shoulder, and you turned to find Cailee Spaney, your co-star, standing beside you, a concerned look on her face.

“You two okay?” she asked, her tone light, but there was a genuine curiosity behind it. She knew you both well enough to sense the shift.

You hesitated. “I think so. Just… a weird energy today, you know?”

Cailee’s eyes flickered over to where Drew stood, chatting with the crew but still glancing in your direction. “It’s pretty obvious to everyone. You’ve got to clear the air, or it’s going to keep hanging over both of you.”

You knew she was right. The unspoken tension between you and Drew wasn’t just something that could be ignored—it would affect the work, the connection between your characters, and maybe even the rest of the team’s comfort. But you weren’t sure how to fix it. How do you go from that intimate moment behind closed doors to this, to being back in the public eye with cameras rolling, no room for vulnerability?

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, Drew’s voice broke through, calling your name.

“Hey,” he said, walking toward you, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes uncertain but earnest. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, stepping a little closer to him. There was an intensity in his gaze now, but it wasn’t the cold, calculating Theo you’d seen on set. This was Drew, the one you knew—the one who had kissed you, the one who was just as affected by everything as you were.

“Look,” he started, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not… I don’t want this to be weird. I don’t want it to mess with the work, with the scenes. I just—”

“Yeah,” you interrupted softly, “me neither. It’s just… it’s hard to go back to pretending nothing happened.”

He smiled weakly, and you could see the tension in his face ease a little. “You’re right. But we’ve got this. We’ll figure it out. Just need to get through today, right?”

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Right.”

And for the first time since you’d kissed him, you both shared a moment of quiet understanding—no more words needed. You still didn’t know how this would all play out, but for now, you had a scene to finish, a role to play, and a bond that had quietly shifted in ways neither of you could ignore.

The last day on set arrived like a blur—one moment, you were just starting the project, and now, you were standing in the middle of the set for the final scene, everything winding down. It felt surreal, almost like you were moving through a dream. The camaraderie you’d built with the cast and crew, the long hours, the inside jokes, and the late-night rehearsals were all coming to a close. And yet, there was a weight in the air—one that had little to do with the wrap-up of the film.

You and Drew had navigated the tension between you both for weeks now, silently acknowledging it but never fully addressing it. Both of you had poured your energy into the project, the work taking center stage, but there had always been that quiet pull between you. Now, as you watched the final scene being set up, there was no denying it: this wasn’t just about wrapping the film. There was something unspoken that you knew needed to be said.

Drew was already on set, his costume as Theo impeccably sharp, his eyes distracted as he ran through lines under his breath. He looked different today—softer, like the walls he’d built around himself throughout the project were crumbling.

The last scene between Isabella and Theo was intense, charged with everything they’d been through together. It was a pivotal moment, where they both stood at a crossroads, neither sure of where the future would take them. The connection between you two felt more real than ever, and you knew this was the moment where it all had to come to a head—both on screen and off.

As the crew prepared for the final take, you caught Drew’s eye from across the set. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of hesitation, like he wanted to say something, but the moment wasn’t quite right. You couldn’t let it go.

You moved toward him, your footsteps echoing in the quiet before the chaos of the scene began. As you approached, Drew straightened up, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides.

"Hey," you said, offering him a small smile. “Ready to wrap this up?”

He returned the smile, but there was an unreadable look in his eyes. “Yeah, but... I’ve been thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sense of curiosity stirring in your chest. “About?”

He shifted slightly, the weight of his words hanging between you two. “About us. About... everything.” He swallowed, his usual confident demeanor faltering. “You know, the way things have been between us. We’ve never really talked about it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The air between you felt thick, charged. It was as if the words had been waiting to spill out for weeks, and now, in the stillness of the final day, they couldn’t be contained any longer.

“Drew…” you started, your voice barely a whisper, unsure of what to say.

He stepped closer, the space between you narrowing until it felt like no one else existed. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now,” he continued, his voice a little rougher than usual, the weight of his feelings making every word feel like it carried more meaning than it ever had before. “I can’t pretend anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after how I feel about you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade into the background. The noise of the set, the crew bustling about, even the upcoming scene—it all vanished as Drew’s words sank in.

“I care about you,” he said, his voice softer now, the intensity of his confession undeniable. “More than I’ve let on. More than I probably should. But I can’t ignore it anymore, and I don’t want to walk away from this without telling you.”

You stood there, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. It felt like a moment frozen in time—one that had been building for weeks, but now that it was finally here, you didn’t know how to respond.

For a beat, you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, trying to process the rush of emotions his words had triggered. But then, a smile began to tug at the corners of your lips. You took a step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m glad you said that,” you whispered, your voice steady, but your emotions running wild beneath the surface. “I’ve been feeling the same way, Drew. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

He gave a small, relieved laugh, his eyes brightening with that familiar warmth. “I’ve been trying to convince myself to wait until the film wrapped, until everything calmed down. But every time I looked at you... it just felt like I was lying to myself.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you easing, replaced by something deeper, something real. “I think we’ve both been lying to ourselves,” you said, your hand unconsciously reaching out for his.

Drew’s fingers curled around yours, and for the first time in weeks, there was no awkwardness, no uncertainty—just the simple connection between you both, like a thread that had always been there, waiting to be pulled.

As the crew called for the final take, you both stood there for a moment longer, simply taking in the quiet of the moment before the storm of filming began again.

“Let’s finish this,” Drew said with a grin, his fingers still tightly holding yours.

You nodded, the anticipation in your chest matching the excitement in his eyes. "Yeah. Let’s do this."

The scene was about to begin, but for once, you weren’t worried about the cameras, the crew, or the pressure. For the first time in a long while, you were just here—with him. And that was enough.

As you both walked back onto set, side by side, you knew this moment, this day, was one that would stay with you long after the credits rolled. Drew had confessed his feelings, and the truth between you was no longer hidden. You had one more scene to film, but in that moment, it felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

The post-wrap party was everything you’d imagined it would be—laughter, music, and the celebratory sound ofclinking of glasses. The set was a distant memory now, the whirlwind of the past few months slowly fading into the background as you found yourself in the midst of the crew and cast, celebrating the end of a long, intense journey. The atmosphere was warm, filled with a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie.

Lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the gathering. The chatter was a mix of congratulatory remarks and funny anecdotes from behind the scenes. You could hear snippets of conversations as people relived the chaos of filming, the challenges, and the triumphs, but amidst it all, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to Drew.

He was leaning against the bar, chatting with a few of the crew members. Even from across the room, you could feel the pull between you—the magnetic energy that had only intensified since that first kiss. The way he’d laughed with you on set, the way he’d confessed his feelings on that last day—it all felt like a beautiful dream, yet it was real. You couldn’t shake the quiet contentment that had settled in your chest, a feeling that only seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute.

Your heart warmed as you watched him, the soft light from the party highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the playfulness in his eyes. Drew looked at home here, yet he had a way of making everything feel more meaningful just by being present. He was grounded and alive in a way that made you feel safe, as if you’d found a place in this world where you truly belonged.

Finally, your legs moved on their own, carrying you through the crowd. Each step brought you closer to him, closer to something that felt inevitable. And when he turned toward you, as if he’d sensed your approach, his eyes lit up with the warmth that had become familiar. There was no awkwardness now, no uncertainty—only the comfort of knowing that you and Drew were no longer tiptoeing around each other. What had started as something tentative had grown into something real, something undeniable.

“Hey,” Drew said with that soft smile of his, his voice like home. “I was wondering when you’d come over.”

You smiled back, moving closer to him, feeling the way his presence filled the space between you. “Couldn’t resist. The party’s fun, but... I’d rather be here with you,” you replied, your voice low and sincere.

Drew’s smile deepened, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his eyes full of something that went beyond simple affection. He raised his glass in a mock toast. “To the film, to the work, and to... us, I guess,” he said, a little shy but so genuine that it made your chest ache.

You lifted your own glass to meet his, the soft clink of the glasses an almost imperceptible note in the music that surrounded you. “To us,” you echoed, the words settling deep within you, filling the empty spaces you didn’t even realize existed. It was real now, the connection, the undeniable bond that had been growing between you since the moment you first locked eyes on set.

The music played softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like everything was quieter—more intimate. You were standing there together, both of you caught in the soft embrace of a night that felt endless, where time stood still. Drew’s presence was a comfort you hadn’t known you needed, and as you stood beside him, a peace settled over you that you hadn’t expected.

“Are you happy with how everything turned out?” Drew asked, his voice sincere, his eyes searching yours for something only you could give him.

You thought for a moment, your heart beating steadily in your chest. The long hours, the late-night rehearsals, the emotional scenes—it had all been a whirlwind. But standing there with Drew, feeling the warmth of his hand resting just above your waist, everything felt clearer. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “I’m proud of everything we did. Proud of how far we’ve come.”

Drew nodded, his gaze softening, and his lips curved into a smile that made your heart flutter. “Same here. You were incredible. You brought Isabella to life in a way I never thought possible.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Well, you weren’t so bad yourself, Starkey. Theo was... captivating, to say the least.” The words were teasing, but your smile spoke of something deeper—a sense of admiration and respect for everything he’d brought to the character.

His laugh was soft, a sound that sent warmth through your veins, and he moved a little closer, the space between you disappearing. “Thanks. But I think you’re the one who made everything come together. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” His words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten in the most wonderful way.

The connection between you deepened in that moment, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. Drew’s gaze softened, and his voice dropped to a quiet whisper. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, taking a step closer, his hand slipping into yours. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I know it’s crazy, but... I don’t want this to be just a set thing. What we have, I mean. I don’t want it to end when the film does.”

Your heart raced, and without a second thought, you took a small step toward him, the space between you now nonexistent. “Me neither,” you whispered, your hand gently cupping his face as you looked into his eyes. “I think this is just the beginning, Drew.”

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. Without another word, Drew leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss—a kiss that held everything unspoken. It was slow, a gentle exploration, as though both of you were savoring the moment, the sweetness of everything that had led you here.

When you pulled away, the world around you seemed to fade. The music, the laughter, the chatter—it all felt distant, as if the only thing that mattered was Drew, and the feeling of his arms around you, his lips on yours. “Then let’s see where it goes,” he said softly, his breath warm against your cheek.

You smiled, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. The world felt right in a way it hadn’t before. The film was over, but the connection you shared with Drew was just beginning to blossom, and you were content, certain that whatever happened next, you’d face it together.

The night continued around you, but for the two of you, it was just the beginning.

[dailydoseoffanfics]

Dude, I love your work, especially the self aware ones! Phenomenal!

Anyway, uhhh, this is the first time I’ve actually done an ask, if I’ll be honest… But uhh, take the time you need to read through the ask, remember to take breaks and take care of yourself.

Anyway, uhm; I had a strange thought, and wanted to share it with you. Y’know how we (the player) plays the survivors/killers…

Do you ever think that, they’d hear any music, that is playing from the same device you’re playing, or music in the background?

I’ve actually been listening to “Tongue Twister - Speed Up” (or the original), “Evacuate The Dancefloor - Radio Edit” by Cascada(?), and “Monster” (The call the doctor, must be something wrong with me, he’s a monster yada yada yada…)

D’you think they’d all, or if not most of them, would hear the music? Would they enjoy it, would they like it, would they be neutral about it? Or would they be like 1x. Grumpy as hell and like, hate it?

(I hope this ask isn’t too much of a brainstorm for you, love your work, and keep it up! 🫶🫶)

first of all? W music taste. Like actually. I ESPECIALLY LOVED THAT MONSTER SONG WHEN I WAS 7 (I STILL LOVE IT). Mann, i used to have a HUGE nightcore phase when i was 7-9 years old, matter of fact, it was a LIFESTYLE for me back then. (alright enough of my yapping BUT THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS :3)

Second of all? Despite your voice being pretty muffled, all of the survivors and killers can hear your music crystal clear. Either same device or background music. All of them got variety of reacting to your music taste....

For the survivors, all of the survivors think it's nice. It makes their experiences more....bearable at least. And hey, if you have REALLY good music taste, you can even make some survivors like the songs you're listening to! Some survivors would be interested in your music taste (Two Time, Chance, and Shedletsky), some thinks it's nice and even prefers listening to whatever music you're playing more (Elliot, Noob, and 007n7), while the others won't mind that much but thinks it's neat (Builderman and Guest 1337).

Well how are the killers feeling? They got some interesting reactions....

Some won't mind much but will ask you what you're listening to: Jason (he just does it by tilting his head, hoping you know what's he's trying to say) and John Doe.

Some will ask you to change the music: c00lkid.

Some will think it's annoying but they'll just try to ignore it. And they might even think your music taste is bad, but don't listen to them: 1x1x1x1.

(Also gonna focus on the monster song part for a bit because. it just. activated my neurons. for some reason.)

I think the survivors will share questioning glances to each other if they hear that song. Many thoughts are gonna go through their head like an army of bees attacking their mind. Are you going through some kind of toxic relationship? Is this a cry for help? Do you need help? Watch their faces turn red from embarrassment when you tell them that, no, it's just a song that you like and you're not going through any toxic relationships whatsoever.

....Imagine their reactions if you were listening to WAP. 💀

(lil fun fact: i was actually listening to those songs that you mentioned while writing this. it was a fun experience.)

[onelittlespiral]

Hey dude, I'm just a lil bro looking for a big bro to take care of me in all sorts of ways but all I'm stuck with is my lousy nerd of a roommate. Could you help me out?

FML: Fraternize

My roommate was… chill all things considered. I don’t know, he was just the random guy that I got stuck with when all my bros decided to move into the house and I needed someone to take the lease with. Scruffy, for sure. A bit out of shape. He said he used to play soccer in high school. Cute, but that was about it. Nowadays he was just getting his degree in English. Just a guy. But I didn’t want just another guy.

I tried to be friends with the guy, but he always just blew me and my boys off. He would just say he was too busy studying or playing some video game to come out to the gym with us or hang at the frat. I finally decided I was fed up. I needed my roommate to be more than a rando in my house. I needed a bro. And the fraternity had some resources to make that happen.

They usually keep this kinda stuff for pledges who start stepping out of line, but my buddy slipped me the files that they show to help guys get in line. I don’t remember if I ever saw them myself… what ever. It was a series of videos that promised to turn any guy into a bro in no time flat. So, one night, I put the tapes on when my roommate was home:

“Hey man, I’ve gotta watch these for class, mind if I slip them on?”

“No problem, I’ll just hang out in my bedroom.”

“Actually, it may be something you would like. You should stay. Here, you chill here and I’ll listen while I cook. I’ll make enough to split.”

I turned the first tape on and went to cook up some chicken and rice. In the other room, I heard the video beginning. It wasn’t long before I started hearing my roommate responding to the commands:

You are loyal to your bros.

“I am loyal to my bros.”

When you are around them you feel relaxed.

“When I am around them I feel relaxed”

The gym feels like your second home.

“The gym feels like my second home.”

The frat is life. You are made to be loyal to the frat.

“I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

They kept pushing him in the background while I finished cooking some food. When I walked back into the room, static filled the screen as my roommate stared into space, drool dripping from his mouth. I turned of the TV and he seemed to come to his senses.

“Hey, sup bro? Got the fuel?”

Already he was much better, “Yeah man, chicken and rice.”

“Hell yeah, gotta get a good workout in before getting my homework done.”

We ate quickly and started getting ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you think they are still taking new pledges? I’ve been meaning to apply to your frat!”

I was shocked at how quick the progress had been, “Yeah man. I’ll hook you up with my peeps tomorrow.”

“Sweet, let me finish getting ready and we can go.”

Dang those videos were quick. Even the way he carried himself was so different. This is the bro I needed.

The week went on and we kept working out. I hooked my roommate up with the pledge master and he quickly started falling in with the bros. We worked out, partied, did almost everything together now. I gave the rest of the tapes back to my guy who gave them to me. He said he needed them for a few guys who had gotten a little hands-y with some girls at the last party. I was fine to get them back, I didn’t think there would be any more issues with my roommate.

The year flew by until it was time for spring break. I had opted to be my roommate’s big and done all the usual hazing and shit with him. Had to keep him on his A game, I wasn’t going to go east on him. The spring break frat trip was a rite of passage for the incoming pledges. As much as I wanted to go, I had plans to visit California with my partner. We were having a great time, chilling at the beach, shopping through souvenir stores, and hiking parks. But I made sure to get updates about how my roommate was enjoying his week. It was from one of these progress reports that I got word from the pledge master:

Hey, bro. Just letting you know. Your little bro was making some girls uncomfortable at the bar. Can’t have that causing issues for the frat.

Shit man. I’m sorry. Lemme talk to him.

Nah dude, it’s good. We have a protocol for these kinds things. Just letting you know so you aren’t surprised. We’ll make sure he won’t bother any girls again.

Thanks dude. Lemme know if you need anything.

Nah bruh, relax. Enjoy your vacay.

Well as long as they have shit handled. I went back to my vacation and forgot about the whole situation. I would give him crap for it when I got back. The rest of our trip was great. I didn’t hear anything more from my bros so I assumed it all went according to plan. I was eager to get back to my roommate and prep him for full brotherhood when I got back. It wasn’t till I walked into the apartment I knew something was awry:

“Sup, bro, welcome back.”

A deep voice echoed from the balcony. He stepped inside and was greeted by a stranger. His arms were as thick as a football, his legs as thick as tree trunks. The smell of sweat, sex, and stale beer followed him into the room. He had a fresh tattoo on his arm with the number 86 boldly displayed. The stranger walked with swagger up to me, like he owned the place. As he approached, his musk only grew more intense. It wasn’t until I noticed the glasses it all clicked into place:

“Bro… is that you?!?”

“Bruh, who else would it be?”

My roommate stood proudly in front of me. He had been going to the gym steadily but no amount of protein powder could explain the progress he had made in a week. He was also easily 3 inches taller. And the smell. I don’t know how to describe it but he smelled… virile. Like just being around him was starting to get me excited. He certainly had never been like this before.

“Looking good, right? Like the new tat? Year of our chapter’s founding, 1986. After all, I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

That line made it all click together. The tapes. They said they would handle the situation, I didn’t know they would use the tapes.

”Speaking of which, dude. I can’t believe you flaked on the frat and went on a trip with your partner. You’ve got to be loyal to your bros.”

His scent, his words, my mind was swimming in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He stepped towards me, grabbing my head. I was pulled into his pit. I tried to pull back but a hand on the back of my head held me firmly in place. I felt so aroused and so scared as I was forced to huff the scent of pure frat bro. I was… fading. I couldn’t… resist… my… my… bruhhhhh.

“I think that you should sit through the next set with me bro.”

My mind was blank as he told me to sit down on the couch. Of course, I would do anything for my frat bro. He put on a video and sat behind me.

“They said we could watch this one together.”

The video whirled to life as my roommate held me in place in his lap. A flash of color and a brief intro played. It explained that it was the last in a series of videos for brothers who were trouble makers in the frat. This last one was the most extreme. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I had betrayed my brothers and the chapter. I wasn’t sure what I did but I knew it must be bad. My behavior had to change.

You will conform to the standard set by the frat, whatever it takes. You will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.

“I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,” we both repeated, in unison.

Good. Since you have proven you can’t be trusted with making good decisions, your brothers have decided to make those for you. You will become the ultimate frat bro.

“I will become the ultimate frat bro.”

Let’s start on the outside. A brother works out daily, at least. Strong muscles make for a strong foundation.

As I repeated the words, they became my reality. I had certainly never been a scrawny guy before, but this was something else. My muscles convulsed all at once, then seemed to shred and burst. My muscles ached as pecs, biceps, abs all were pulled out of my body. I sweat under the effort as legs bloated and toned, bloated and toned. My back stretched out and shoulders mounded on muscle.

Good bro. Now, a brother should be cocky, with a cock to match. All the other fraternities should know how superior we are.

‘Shiiit, no other frat could even come close. We threw the best parties, had the hottest girls and… fuck the hottest guys. With a bod like this, just about no body could resist.’ As those thoughts echoed in my head, there was a sharp pain in my balls as they started to swell. My cock snaked down my shorts, throbbing with newfound power and size. A moan escaped my mouth as my cock swelled thick as a beer can. Anyone would beg for a cock like this.

A frat bro with a cock like that just needs to fuck. Your libido keeps your mind so full that you hardly have time to pass your business classes.

My swollen balls began to churn as my cock came to life. As my mind was thrust into a deep sexual haze, any aspirations I had on my pre-law track were pushed out, draining right to my balls and slowly leaking out my cock. At the same time, I felt my roommate begin to shift behind me. I felt his cock press against the small of my back, throbbing as it was thrust into overdrive. He began slowly humping against my back, and I leaned back against that massive cock. I wanted to help my bro however I could. He wrapped his arms around me and slowly started jacking me off. My mind was in pure bliss as I was kicked into overdrive. His arms felt so warm and strong, and he was pushing all my buttons till I was thrusting into his hands.

The frat is a part of you. You live, breath, and sweat the frat. Everyone who meets you will know exactly what you’re about and submit to you, an alpha bro. You put the reek in Greek.

My mind processed for a second until the smell hit me from behind and I understood. My hormones shifted as sweat poured out. It was hard work being a fraternity brother, and everyone would know that. I worked overtime as the smell of straight frat filled my nostrils. The apartment changed in response, filled with leftover beers, used tank tops, and soaked underwear. Anyone who entered would fall into an immediate haze, the smell of bros clouding their mind. My mind was… so… slow. Just… needed… FUCK.

You will keep it simple, keep it stupid.

“I will keep it simple, keep it stupid.”

My head felt like it was filled with fluff. No thoughts, just instinct.

You will listen to your pledge master, follow all he says.

“I will listen to my pledge master, follow all he says.”

It was so much easier to just trust my bros. Whatever they said went.

You will live for and serve your bros, live for and serve the frat.

“I will live for and serve my bros and the frat.”

I would do anything for my bros. Gotta keep ‘em happy.

The frat is life.

“The frat is life.”

My roommate’s cock was still rock hard behind me. His grip was edging me as moaned for release. I could dedicate my life to men like him.

Thank you for your cooperation. There will be no further issues. Now cum.

And I did. Ropes shot across the floor as all the changes were set in stone. I was just another frat dude, struggling through Business classes and fucking through the night.

And with that the video ended. It took a sec for me to regain my senses. I slowly refocused my eyes and… fuck bruh my head is pounding. Musta partied too hard last night. Shit, I was drooling all over myself, lol. I mean, I’m hot but not that hot. And fuck, I made a mess. Bro, what happened? It’s already late, I’ve got to get ready to go out tonight.

I was going to throw on a polo and some shorts when my roommate put a hand on my shoulder. This man must’ve got a double dose of whatever I got. Bro, he was on another fucking level. He pulled me in tight, cupped my ass in his hands, held my chin, and slid his tongue in my mouth. All at once, my world shifted as the fraternity’s motto rang in my head, I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood. An aching in my balls told me that I wasn’t going to make it out tonight. I had my frat bro… no, my big bro right here. And he will take care of his little bro. He pulled down his sweatpants and a thick rod popped out from the waistband. He gently guided me to his cock, the true source of his musk. Our scents mingled as my thoughts were consumed by sex. The salty taste of pre coated my tongue as the tip slid down the back of my throat. My mind faded as the smell of the frat filled my nostrils. I was lost in bliss as my bro started pumping, pumping down my throat. Gone was the nerdy roommate I had:

There was nothing left but frat bro.

[sakanayasan414]

Interesting facts/possible mistranslation in Japanese translation of Sherlock Holmes

I thought people might be thinking I started my Sherlock Holmes journey by bbc or s&co and while there’s nothing wrong with that, I wanted to clarify that I’ve been Sherlokian since my mom bought me the adventure of Sherlock Holmes in 1st grade and I love the canon the most. Though I don’t really read it in Japanese anymore, I wanted to show my love for the translators and just everyone who made it possible for me to enjoy SH without having to learn English as a child.

Names Changes - The name Sherlock Holmes and John Watson once got translated/adapted to 小室泰六 (Komuro Tairoku) and 和田進一 (Wada Shinichi) because people in Japan at that time weren’t familiar with European names. I find this really fun and actually impressive because the names do fit their criteria; Komuro has that royal feel Holmes has and Shinichi is just one of the most common name in Japan like John.

First person pronouns - In Japanese there are many first person pronouns (I, my, me) to the point linguists don’t even know how many there are but main one being 俺 (ore) and 僕 (boku) for men and 私 (watashi) for women and men in formal occasions. So, deciding which first person pronouns characters use is one of the first yet important part of translation. Holmes in most translations use boku which is typical but has that upper class atmosphere when used by an adult which I think fits his personality and background. But one of the translations I read used watashi when he’s talking about his deduction and I feel like it shows how serious he takes his cases as it is almost solely used by men in professional settings. And also it sort of distances the speaker from the rest, meaning he is in his own world when deducing but he’s willing to interact with others when not in case.

Surname? First name? - in most translations, Holmes and Watson call each other by their surnames like in ACD writing but in one of the translations I’ve read put 君 (kun) after their surnames. It is used to show politeness but also affection in old times. I personally love this addition because calling each other by their surnames in Japanese don’t feel the same as it does in English. It feels too distant, not in Victorian men in way but just plain strangers feel. But then First names are too intimate so putting kun just feels right.

The speckled band - ACD played with a word band in this story but in Japanese it is straight up impossible to do so because we don’t have a word like that so what do they do? As shown below, they put extra words on top of words. (Characters on top (バンド) literally reads bando meaning band and characters below (紐 and 群) mean a string and a group so they both mean band) It is commonly done in literature to either suggest double meaning or just an indication of how to read certain Chinese characters because the characters on top are phonogram unlike Chinese characters. Having three alphabets in one language enables us to have that double meaning in other languages.

Possible misinterpretation of the situation - In “A Case of Identity”, Holmes expresses a deep angst towards Windibank by saying “But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.” Up until this point, Holmes called him Mr Windibank but he drops the Mr. However, for some reason some translations keep the Japanese equivalent of Mr (さん) , but then he takes out his whip after this conversation. I just don’t think it was a civil conversation that Japanese translators wanted to write as. I think Japanese translators just wanted to write Holmes as an always-calm-man but he is a passionate man when he needs to be.

Possible Mistranslation - From “A Scandal in Bohemia”, Watson talks about what the woman is to Holmes by writing “In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.” In rather recently published translation, it gets translated to something like “From Holmes’ perspective, she surpasses all other women and makes their presence fade into the background.” Which i don’t think accurately expresses his view on her and women in general. But this might differ from other people’s opinions.

As time passes and many variations get published, translation gets more natural but sometimes they lose the atmosphere of the canon. So I love going back to reading all the versions I can read.

Hope you enjoyed this post! I have A LOT like this in my draft because I’m a language nerd in STEM that can’t find anyone to talk about this with. Also please let me know if you know any fun facts from your language’s translation:)

[bindeds]

[ BITE ME. ] : 2.2k words. ☆ ⌜ALASTOR X GENDER NEUTRAL READER. ⌟ — alastor catches you with bram stoker’s dracula and decides he can’t let you go until he gets to the bottom of your desires.

#tags. biting, blood, blood sucking, alastor with vampire teeth, reference to his cannibalism, but he doesn’t actually eat you, explicit consent, suggestive

a/n. sorry guys, this was wayyy too perfect of a chance realizing that alastor’s a cannibal. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did! also, i’m finally starting a taglist! lmk which characters you wanna be tagged for ;>

meanwhile ... vampire lucifer version! BITE ME : AL’S VER PART 2 IS OUT !!!

masterlist. request something! :>

“I can’t wait for us to hang out oh, this is going to be so fun!”

You smiled right back at Charlie, though not quite able to return the ray of light she’d been emitting with her own.

“Charlie dear!”

You both looked over your shoulder to see Alastor approaching with his hands neatly poised behind his back.

“Where on earth are you going at this time with such dreadful skies?” Alastor’s head poked out between Charlie and yourself. He pressed the side of his hand to his brow as he squinted at the view outside.

You and Charlie were standing at the grand entrance of the hotel, straw-woven basket in hand.

The red skies of hell had looked just a few shades darker than they usually were and the gravel’s petrichor smell had started to rise in the streets.

Charlie had taken the pleasure of letting Alastor know that you and her would be going on a picnic date. She had taken extra care in watching the weather forecast yesterday to make sure the weather would only be windy, at most drizzly for today, which, judging by her ear-to-ear grin, was right up her alley.

Alastor’s eyes zipped down to your hand, still leaning in front with his hand retracted. “What’s that in your hand, darling?”

“Oh,” you frowned, holding up the book by instinct. “Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I’m trying to get into the classics and Charlie said to bring a book.”

“Dracula,” Alastor’s voice and tone darkened, and the static scratches of radio surrounded the three of you as his grin grew taller. “Such a classic indeed.”

Alastor finally took a step back from the both of you, but that didn’t warrant both of you enough of a reason to continue on your way just yet—your attention as well as Charlie’s was as good as trapped in Alastor’s hands.

“Charlie, may I borrow your friend for a moment?”

“Alastor! Right now, really?” She urged in gritted teeth.

“My sincerest apologies Charlie, I’ve just remembered some important matters we had agreed to settle the very moment we were free.” Alastor placed a hand to his abdomen before he gave a slight bow.

“We won’t be long,” he drawled in a prodding tone.

“What?” You barked after he let you into his quarters first before shutting the door behind him.

Alastor’s eyes traced your shoulders, your arms—then seemed to set up camp at your hands.

Your grip on your book tightened.

“I see you’re dedicated to your little outing with Charlie, hm?” Alastor circled you as he looked over your shoulder. He twirled around to the other shoulder while he clicked his stick to the ground to use as an axis.

The fire sputtered softly in the background. The renovations done to the hotel had certainly been setting into your skin now—the cover of your poor book had become damp with your sweat. The blaring reds of Alastor’s grand room had somehow been less overwhelming to look at than the man himself.

Your eyes zipped over to his chest, shit, why—how did you get here? Though your eye sockets had been yanking you to look his way anyway, your eyelids gave the threat of a blink that for some reason entailed certain death.

A spindly finger crept its way under your chin and tilted your head up. Your gaze naturally fell to his eyes, so narrow and sharp as they could’ve pierced into your own, but no—instead, his gaze took a step into yours. Ever the polite gentleman, letting you know he was letting himself in as your blinking flickered.

“My eyes are up here, darling,” Alastor buzzed in a gravelly voice that dug below the growling radio static.

You gulped, and it seemed that that had been enough for Alastor to release your chin. “Though I suspect it’s not the outing you’re excited about …”

“Alastor, we can talk about this later—”

“Oh, but we haven’t talked about us at all—not since the fall of Charlie’s hotel,” Alastor grinned but gave a pouting tone.

Right.

You had panicked the moment Alastor left for longer than he should have. When you were the only one who clearly didn’t hate him but didn’t hug him upon his return, he took it upon himself to ask about your attitude towards him. You confessed to having thought about him a little more than the rest of the crew, thinking you would be ripping the bandaid off when he laughs at your face and tells you he doesn’t like wasting his time on such sentiments—but lo and behold, he twirled you around to an old jazz song you couldn’t recognize and said—

“Why, I would be ridding myself of the one person who happens to be a pleasure to be around! Don’t be so harsh on yourself my dear, you’re quite a beauty to be relished, even if I am no such person for the job.”

Alastor’s fingers crawled up to his lips as they tapped in a rippling motion.

“Though, it does make me inclined to try …”

So there you were.

The past few days have been more than bearable with this subtle change as you would have expected with someone who wasn’t known to be into romantics. And Alastor had made it clear that you two were only exclusive without a label—but it seemed the current moment might be testing that statement’s validity.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you reasoned as you held the book to your chest with the title facing him.

Alastor’s eyes dropped back down to your book and up to you again as he shut his eyes.

“And you’re doing just a splendid job, my treasure. Letting me set the pace. But right now, I must admit … it’s rather difficult for me to see you reading quite possibly the most popular piece of fiction on vampires,” Alastor held back a sigh through his explanation, but it slipped between his theatrics nonetheless. “You do know I’m a cannibal, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you insisted, and for some reason your voice dropped to a lower register as you frowned.

Your gaze had been drawn right back to Alastor’s prying own like a compass needle to the earth’s core—it wavered, but never wandered long.

“Then you should know it’s only natural for me to yearn for your taste,” Alastor hummed. “If only I had known you were enamored by such notions sooner …”

“What does it matter now? Right when I’m supposed to head out with Charlie too …”

“Is it really what you wish to do?” Alastor questioned with a cocked brow. “Because if so …” he stepped aside and showed you the door with his hand motioned towards it. “I will not stop you, my sweet.”

In your head, you prepared for your body to move—but you made one pathetic excuse for a step before you fell ice cold. Your head spun and whirred with the expectation of movement—but your body tensed with the commands your muscles refused to follow; like there had been a mix of commands in which your brain may have known what was right but the very blood that supplied your body remained loyal to the desires pounding in your rib cage.

“Well?”

Alastor stood rooted to his spot, and though his grin had turned into a tamed smile, you knew that underneath his closed eyes he’d been brimming for your answer.

“What … What are you going to do?” You asked innocently. There were a number of things already stirring in your head about your fate in the next ten minutes or so, but Alastor’s hell-renowned status had been built escaping the grasps of others’ expectations.

“What would you like me to do my dear?” He tilted his head at an unnatural angle as his sharp eyes narrowed at you once more, the static noise crackling much like the fire had—only this sound panted and prodded in your ear, demanding to be known.

“No, this is not how this works, Al,” you sterned as much as you could with the tremble in your voice. “You tell me exactly what you have in mind, then I will tell you what I think.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor cooed. “How clever.”

He made his way over to you, and your body reacted quicker than your mind as your steps matched his, only they brought you backwards while he stalked forward.

He leaned into your ear. “I’d like to know what you taste like, dear.”

You attempted to steel yourself as a shiver traveled from your arms to your spine. Alastor’s breath might have been warm but the shiver had shedded off half your warmth and preserved the rest on your cheeks.

He returned to his original position right in front of you, keeping your flickering gaze locked on his, even if his own hadn’t been half as loyal when they switched between your neck and the former.

“Not to worry. I won’t hurt you any more than I have to. I find those fangs that vampires possess quite appealing,” he commented. “So what do you say, darling?”

You nodded. You didn’t mean to.

But by this time your throat, your muscles, the very same ones tensed with the promise of Alastor’s tongue on your skin—they had been pulling the strings because you knew you wouldn’t do it all by yourself, acting so surprised by the things you’re saying.

“Please,” you whispered as you bit your lip. Now’s no time to be praying.

“I want you to bite me.”

Unless it’s to the very demon before you.

“Lovely.”

His hand slipped to your waist and steered you to the right and towards the edge of his bed.

You fell back, your book finally escaped your grasp and Alastor’s shadow casted over you completely.

He adjusted his tie as he set down his microphone, chin held high with a half-lidded glance at your book that laid askew on his bed. He picked it up and flipped it back to front briefly before setting it down on his bedside table like he’d been framing a picture.

“Now then,” he grinned, and his teeth had been completely altered with a straight row—the only two to stand out being the prominent fangs that ended on his lower lip.

Alastor swooped in and you shut your eyes tight from the gush of wind that accompanied him only to be met with his warm breath on your neck.

“I trust you know that this will hurt for an itty bitty moment, yes?” He warned with a voice so vile yet sultry, like his little remarks had slithered into your ear and lapped your head in jawbreaker promises filled with his venom.

You nodded quickly, and froze at once when he punctured you; fire spread throughout your neck, inflamed your cheeks, collarbones protruding as you clawed at his shoulders for purchase—and to your surprise, he adjusted your grip to loop around his neck, which in turn enveloped you closer to him.

A swirling sensation danced into the picture with your jugular pulsing against his teeth. Your flesh and muscles hugged the two blades that only sank deeper into you causing you to bruise even further. You winced, and Alastor’s tongue drew small circles where he had been sucking. Something had been dripping from you and Alastor was sure not to miss a single drop of you. At least, not from your neck.

You bit your lip once more, a sound rising past your throat and holding your tongue hostage. Warmth had now engulfed your jaw and neck as you craned it back to allow him easier access—what was previously festered had subsided into a dizzying pleasure, his fangs almost tickling you along with the wet trails left by his tongue.

Ice washed over the abused spot on your neck when his fangs left you, pieces of your skin still clung onto him until the very last second. He nibbled and bit further down and along your collarbone before he drew back.

He exhaled through his teeth, which had now grown out to be the regular sharp rows he possessed previously. With the way his eyes trekked on your shoulders and jaw, it took every muscle in your body not to shrivel under his critical eye.

“Oh, my dear, you’re absolutely glowing,” Alastor sighed, the inner corner of his brows arched up as his hands remained planted on either side of you. His smile faltered. “If you should even dare to think otherwise, come to me. I will fix what is wrong with this realm, and that is the wretch who convinced the moon and stars they were nothing but rotten work.”

Heavy knocks thundered from the door.

“Alastor! What’s taking so long?” Charlie reprimanded, which made you jolt when she uttered your name along with his. “We need to go!”

Alastor stepped back and dusted himself off which allowed you space to do the same. You fixed your shirt and ran towards the door only for a firm hand on your forearm to twirl you around and dip you, your hair falling away from your face.

“Alastor!” You hissed.

Alastor held up your book with his free hand. “I’m touched you’d let me keep this as a souvenir.”

You grabbed the book and headed for the door again. “I’m late.”

Charlie called your name once more.

“Coming!”

“That you will be,” Alastor chuckled.

You glared at him over your shoulder. “Big talk for an ace.”

“I never know what that means.” Alastor shrugged as he planted his microphone in front of him.

You rolled your eyes before opening and slamming the door behind you, leaving Alastor to think about what he was going to do about your attitude when you got back.

[pippin-katz]

So, you know how Edwin screams for Charles as he’s being dragged back to Hell? Because he’s scared?

I was thinking about why, and it’s obvious. No big brain moment here. Someone you care about, who you know cares about you in return, brings even the smallest amount of comfort in situations where you are scared. They make you feel safe, so when you’re in danger you want them near you.

Edwin screams for him while being dragged away to Hell, and calls to him when he’s strapped into Esther’s device before the torture starts.

Yeah, we already know that, but I noticed something yesterday.

When you’re thinking about the show in general, Charles is the one who does the physical rescuing and protecting. Edwin’s best way of doing that is to make sure nothing goes awry so Charles won’t have to rescue someone. He prevents the danger from happening the best he can, while Charles charges at the danger if he has to. Edwin actually calling to Charles for help more makes sense given how their methods of helping each other differ.

But yesterday, I was working on something, and I like to listen to the show in the background sometimes (gotta boost those numbers for my boys ✌🏻). I can typically finish the whole show in a day cause it’s not long, so I started it at the beginning.

While listening to them tussling with the WWI ghost, obviously Charles yells, “Edwin! Hurry the fuck up!”

It’s an instruction and emphasis of the urgency and the need for speed in this situation. Telling someone to hurry up is used in all sorts of contexts, serious and unserious. You might say it with frustration if you were trying meet a deadline with a partner, or angrily while playing some video game that has timers, or with concern if you were waiting for important updates on the conditions of an injured friend.

Charles is a combination of them because the situation has been getting out of hand and he can’t do anything about it. He needs Edwin to cast the spell to break the curse.

But it’s while Edwin is saying the spell that Charles yells just his name. It had always created a feeling in my chest, but I couldn’t pinpoint it.

Listening to it with headphones (multiple times) and while not being distracted by the visuals allowed my brain to focus on just the voices, and how I felt while listening to them. I’ve listened it so many times over the last month, and I finally managed to fully figure it out!

The roughness in his voice from yelling so loud. The desperation that seeps into it. The way he enunciates his name, stress on and the pitch raising on the second syllable, similar to the way you'd ask a question, when the stress is usually on the first syllable, and the pitch usually goes down.

This is maybe the only time in the entire series where Charles sounds scared (excluding flashbacks). I don’t mean the “worried about someone” type of scared; we get to hear that a couple times, mostly when Edwin is taken back to Hell.

But no, here he is scared for himself.

He’s gotten thrown around. He’s gotten choked. He’s gotten knocked onto the ground on his back, being pinned down by a malevolent ghost of a soldier, who also has a knife and is very much trying to stab him right now.

Charles has done everything he can. Now, he just needs to not get hurt until Edwin breaks the curse. But that’s easier said than done when your opponent has basically every advantage. He’s struggling! He has been struggling! And now he's about to be stabbed!

He yells to Edwin because he’s scared, and he knows Edwin will do everything in his power to protect him in a dangerous situation, just as Charles would for him. It’s cry for help instead of an instruction.

But it's also a reassuring gesture for himself. Edwin is there. He trusts Edwin. Edwin is his safety. He has been since he met him in the attic, and became the first person in a very long time, maybe ever, to show so much care, and protectiveness toward him, after everyone in his life had hurt him or had watched him be hurt and did nothing. Edwin won’t let anything happen to him. Edwin is going to save him. And he believes it despite his fear, and Edwin does!

His means of doing so look very different from Charles’, but it’s through breaking the curse that he’ll save Charles rather than trying to fight the ghost off of him. That won’t work. Edwin can’t physically do that, and it wouldn’t stop the ghost from continuing to attack them. So despite him being several feet away casting a spell instead of running to Charles, he is protecting and saving him. And Charles knows that too.

It creates a weird fuzzy feeling in my chest to know that Edwin is the person Charles thinks of when he's scared. It's obvious that Edwin sees Charles as safety, so it feels rarer to see the opposite on display. They are each other's safety, and that is fucking special.

(ko-fi)

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[sippy--sippy]

wedding date (miya atsumu x reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🦊~🦊~🦊~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

summary: you meet atsumu at your friend's wedding and steamy shenanigans ensue CW: smut, car sex word count: 9,774 A/N: if you know me in real life do not read this oh my goooooooood i can't have people knowing i write smut. ya’ll this is almost 10k words LOL this holds the record for the longest one-shot i’ve ever written. this idea came to me because i went to like 5 weddings last year and none of them were my own so i'm getting desperate. enjoyyyyy! !! MINORS DNI !! also, reader is written as AFAB and wears a dress

One would think you’d be more excited to see the cumulation of hours and hours of hard work come to a head once your best friend’s wedding came around. Working closely with the bride-to-be (Kumi) and the maid of honor (her sister), it took months to plan your best friend’s perfect fairytale wedding. Tiring, grueling nights of research, long phone calls, nonrefundable deposits and arguing had finally paid off.

Kumi had found the most beautiful countryside venue for her ceremony. The venue was surrounded by lush forest, spattered with cherry blossom trees that were thankfully in bloom at this time in April, giving the area an ethereal feeling. Rows of white chairs lined the grass, an aisle nestled between the rows that was dusted with white rose petals and cherry blossoms, leading to an elaborate archway decorated with drapes of tulle, ribbons and flowers.

Wedding guests were already in their seats, talking reverently amongst themselves as they awaited the wedding processional, soft romantic music filling the background. You couldn't have asked for better weather either. It was a sunny, clear skied day and since it was April, it wasn’t stiflingly hot.

So why weren’t you giddy with happiness? 

Because you were nervous. 

You wanted this to be the most perfect day for your friend, one that she’ll cherish forever. What if something went horribly wrong? What if someone in the procession tripped? What if the caterers for the luncheon give everyone food poisoning? What if someone breaks their ankle on the dancefloor?

A million possibilities ran through your mind of what could possibly go wrong during the next couple hours but the procession was actually the part you were most worried about. Usually, there would be some sort of practice rehearsal the day before to make sure everyone knew what order to walk out in, how to timely do so, and to make sure everyone knew where to stand. Unfortunately, a rehearsal wasn’t done due to half of the procession still traveling from Tokyo the day before and not making it into town until late that night so no one was able to practice.

Behind a remodeled rustic barn that served as the inside portion of the venue and out of sight from all the guests, everyone was scrambling to get in the proper order to walk out. The officiant was going to walk out first so he could take his spot under the archway. Next in line was the groom who, besides the utter chaos around him, looked as cool as a cucumber.

Due to living a pretty large distance away from each other, you didn’t have the chance to get to know Kumi’s boyfriend, fiance and now almost-husband very well. From what you have learned though, was that Kita Shinsuke was the calmest, sweetest and most brutally honest person you had ever had the chance of meeting. While you were almost scared to talk to him at times, you could see how your friend had fallen head over heels for him. He was so gentle and soft spoken, especially to her. She was going to have the most peaceful life with him.

He looked very sharp with his tailored light grey 3-piece suit and his dainty baby pink bowtie. His hair wasn’t styled much different than what it usually looked like. If anything it looked just the slightest bit wind-swept with the small breeze that blew through the air. How he managed to look so nonchalant at a pivotal moment of his life like this, you had no clue. 

Following him was Kita’s grandma and Kumi’s mother who were going to walk down the aisle together, both dressed in cream dresses. At the tail end of the party, Kita’s little nephew and Kumi’s niece acted as the ring bearer and flower girl. Behind them, hidden from Kita’s view just inside the barn, Kumi was waiting to emerge with her older brother who was going to walk her down the aisle, as her father had passed away years ago.

Sandwiched right in the middle of the party were the groomsmen and bridesmaids which is where the real issue lay. Since no one was able to practice the procession, none of you knew who you were supposed to be walking down the aisle with and it didn’t help that Kita had asked practically his entire high school volleyball team to be his groomsmen. Luckily, your friend had picked just as many bridesmaids so there were even numbers but there were 10 different couples. 20 bridesmaids and groomsmen in total. Which was absolute lunacy in your personal opinion. 

The maid of honor was whisper-shouting the names of each couple that were supposed to walk down the aisle together. She was paired with Kita’s best man, a tall dark-skinned man named Aran Ojiro. As she went down the list, each bridesmaid and groomsman scrambled to find each other and get in the procession line. She called a couple names before she finally called yours. 

“(L/n) (Y/n) and Miya Atsumu.”

You were briefly surprised when she called your partner’s name because she had already called another Miya to partner up with a different bridesmaid. He was tall and handsome, dark brown hair swooped to the right, looking casual but put together at the same time. Were the two related? You didn’t have to think for long as a warm body sidled up to you.

Definitely twins, was your first thought. They looked eerily similar, especially since they were wearing the same outfit. All of the groomsmen wore a white button down shirt with a light gray suit vest and slacks, all tied together with a baby pink tie. This twin however, had blonde hair that was styled to gently swoop to the left and he seemed to be slightly broader than his brother.

Extremely handsome, nonetheless. Almost unnervingly so. 

He looked down at you with a casual smile and flashed a perfect set of pearly white teeth. “Are you (L/n) (Y/n)?”

You suddenly felt very self conscious about the way you looked. How were you supposed to walk down the aisle on the arm of a man that looked like- well- that? The pink dress you wore to match all of the other bridesmaids felt too hot and restricted. You were suddenly worried you were going to sweat through your dress. Did your hair look alright? Was your makeup smeared?

Realizing you had just been staring at him, all you managed to squeak out was a pathetic “Yes”.

He probably noticed your raging blush underneath the heavy layer of makeup covering your cheeks but he didn’t say anything about it, instead choosing to lead you over to the procession line to stand behind his twin and the bridesmaid he was linking arms with. 

Atsumu held out his ridiculously strong looking arm to you and you hesitantly looped your hand into the crook of his elbow. You could feel the bulge of his bicep beneath his shirt and you felt yourself getting woozy. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden temperature spike, how painstakingly gorgeous the man who stood next to you was, the nerves or a combination of all of it.

You didn’t realize that you were shaking until Atsumu dipped his head down to look at you in concern. “Are y’ alright? Yer tremblin’.”

He had the same Kansai accent that Kita had. You couldn’t deny that it fit him beautifully. You nodded and gave him a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just nervous I guess.”

Atsumu huffed in amusement and nudged your ribs with the elbow you held onto. “What for? Yer not the one gettin’ married.”

With the hand that wasn’t holding onto his elbow, the hand that held a small bouquet of pale pink and white flowers, you very delicately tapped his chest in retort. You couldn’t smack him as hard as you wanted to, in lieu of destroying the fragile bouquet. “I know that! I just- I don’t know. I want this to go as smoothly as possible. Kumi and Kita deserve the most perfect wedding and what if I trip over these stupid heels walking down the aisle or something.”

You shifted on your feet to prove your point, your heeled feet squishing into soft grass you stood on. Atsumu looked down to watch you squirm in place, then surprised you by lifting his free hand up to pat your hand that rested on his arm.

“I’ll catch you if y’ fall. Or fall with you, so yer not as embarrassed if yer really that worried ‘bout it. We can humiliate ourselves together..”

You looked up at him with a raised brow. He’d do that for you? You couldn’t deny it made your heart race that this attractive man that you’d met not two minutes ago would go to such lengths to calm your nerves, even if that meant embarrassing himself. You gave him a genuine smile this time, squeezing the soft muscle of his arm.

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very sweet of you. Let’s just both agree to not fall for the next 20 minutes and save our humiliating moves for the dancing later tonight.”

Atsumu smiled at that idea and straightened up. “Save me a dance?”

Butterflies exploded in your stomach and suddenly you weren’t so worried about the ceremony anymore, instead looking forward to the night to come. “Absolutely.”

A venue employee motioned for the start of the processional to begin and the officiator made his way out from behind the barn to start down the aisle, followed a handful of slow seconds later by Kita who’d take his place next to him. Kita’s grandma and Kumi’s mom followed after and then next were the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Atsumu and yourself were 6th in line so it took a while before it was your turn. Once Atsumu’s twin made his way out, a couple of seconds passed before the two of you started your walk.

Instead of keeping his free hand down by his side like all the groomsmen before you had, Atsumu kept his free hand resting over yours that sat nestled in his arm. You realized he was doing it to help keep you steady if you needed it. If your legs weren’t wobbly before, they certainly were now.

The slow walk down the aisle felt ages long but probably took about 30 seconds tops. It was terrifying having all the attendees watching you walk down the aisle but you kept your cool and kept a soft smile on your face. You couldn’t see it, but Atsumu was cheesing the whole time. He loved weddings, especially when he got to walk down the aisle with a pretty bridesmaid.

Once the both of you reached the end of the aisle, Atsumu gently let go of your hand and you hesitantly let go of his arm to join the line of bridesmaids. You couldn’t help but look at him before you parted. Everyone was focused on the couples behind you anyway so no one was paying attention to you two at the moment. Atsumu gave you a sly smile and a wink before turning to take his place in the line, not before giving a nod to Kita who gave him a rare gentle smile.

The rest of the ceremony went swimmingly. Kumi looked so beautiful walking down the aisle with her brother. The ever stoic Kita had tears in his eyes the second she came into view, and his voice even wobbled as they exchanged vows. You were embarrassed to admit that half the time the officiator was talking, you weren’t watching the happy couple, instead focusing on the line of groomsmen behind Kita. 

Atsumu had a sort of magnetism to him you couldn’t deny. He seemed to be having the same problem as you because you made eye contact on multiple occasions and his smile broadened each time. The ceremony flew by and Kita and Kumi officially became husband and wife with a sweet kiss, prompting cheers from all the attendees.

The newlyweds made their way back up the aisle, smiling and holding hands while being showered in white flower petals. The bridesmaids and groomsmen then linked back up with their assigned partners to follow them once they were through. While most linked arms again, Atsumu surprised you by interlocking your fingers and tugging you down the aisle with him in giddy happiness. His energy was contagious and you were laughing right along with him through the white petals.

Once the exciting energy of the ceremony wound down, it was time for pictures which took an awful long time. There were a large variety of shots. Large family pictures, pictures of just parents/grandparents, Kumi and all the bridesmaids, the groomsmen tossing a rather hesitant Kita into the air, etc. There was only one picture where you were placed next to Atsumu (to your disappointment) but when he put his hand on the small of your back while everyone smiled at the camera, you decided you wouldn’t complain.

The luncheon followed next, which you helped oversee to make sure everything was running smoothly. By the time it was time to actually sit down and eat, all the circular tables towards the front of the room where the other bridesmaids and groomsmen were sitting by the head table had been filled from what you could see. You were about to find an extra seat at one of the emptier far tables but before you could, Atsumu waved you over to his table where a seat next to him was being saved. You thanked him profusely and sat down just as Kumi’s sister gave her maid of honor speech, followed by Kumi and Kita giving their own speeches. You couldn’t help but tear up as they spoke, their adoration for each other very apparent. 

While they spoke, caterers brought plates of food around to the tables. The main course consisted of salmon smoked to perfection with a side of rice straight from the family farm Kita owned and operated. Along with a couple other sides, cups of sake were passed around to those who wanted it. 

It wasn’t until the tail end of Kita’s speech when you noticed Atsumu had draped his arm over the back of your chair. Your bare shoulders could feel the heat of him through his white shirt.

Once speeches had wrapped up, everyone dug into their food and started casual conversation. Most of the people around the table were groomsmen, and you quickly learned all about their high school volleyball days and learned that almost all of them, including Atsumu to your absolute pleasure, still played professionally. Atsumu’s twin, Osamu you learned, was happy to tell you all about it.

“‘Tsumu’s both the most popular and most hated volleyball player in all of Japan. He’s talented, sure, but his PR skills are absolute garbage. This scrub gets cancelled on Twitter at least once a month. You’d think with as big of a head as he’s got, he’d have a bigger brain and NOT get into a fight with some 12 year old kid who said Kageyama’s a better setter than ‘Tsumu will ever be.”

Everyone at the table laughed, yourself included. Atsumu growled and tried to punch Osamu, who ducked out of the way. They scuffled for a little bit as you got to know the other people at the table. Aran and Suna were fun to talk to, both of them professional volleyball players as well. Aran was one of the strongest players in Japan which you were very interested in learning about, and Suna had the most social media followers of any professional volleyball player in the whole world. 

They asked a lot of questions about you too, which got Atsumu’s attention enough to finally stop fighting Osamu. You told them about your career in Tokyo and the simple life you were leading. Nothing compared to theirs, you assured them, which they disagreed with you on. 

The rest of the luncheon was filled with pleasant conversation and laughter. Before you knew it, the caterers came around to clear the tables and it was announced that there would be a break until the reception started so the guests could go do as they pleased. There were still a couple hours until the reception and none of you knew the location well enough to leave the venue to explore so everyone stayed and lounged around. 

You got up and took some time to make sure everything was in order for the dance portion of the reception and songs were queued in the right order. The cake was your next target, making sure it was ready for the cutting. After checking a couple other odds and ends, you made your way back to the table where the conversation had fizzled out. A couple of the men were on their phones, Osamu seemed to be sleeping with his head on the table, and Atsumu was just looking around the venue at all the lights and decor. When you slid back into your chair, he smiled and straightened up, angling his body towards yours.

He led you into a conversation about your life, and you asked questions about him, very interested in his blossoming career as a national league setter. As you spoke, you didn’t notice his arm moving beneath the tablecloth until you felt his fingers brush your thigh. Your dress was on the longer side, so he wasn’t able to reach any skin but that didn’t stop him from flattening out his large palm over the fabric. Your words caught in your mouth as you looked at him in surprise. His head was propped up on his other hand, and he didn’t look the least bit guilty as his pointer finger started to twirl in lazy circles.

His hand wasn’t unwelcome, you realized very quickly, and you enjoyed the feel of his warm fingers running over your thigh. The tablecloth covered your legs and his hand so you didn’t worry about people seeing, but it was still risky. You were thankful for your longer dress because if he had any access to more of your legs, you were sure he’d be exploring and you doubted you’d be able to keep any noises or reactions you made very discreet.

His hand stayed on your thigh for a quite while and you didn’t realize how much time had passed until you looked at the clock. The reception was set to start in half an hour and you needed to make sure the caterer’s were getting the refreshments in order.

Grabbing Atsumu’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, you deposited it into his own lap and excused yourself. You stood up and wandered back into the kitchen to talk to the manager of the catering business, talking lightheartedly with him and praising him and his team on his work. The refreshments looked amazing, a blend of sweet and savory dishes spread across trays to bring out once the reception guests started to arrive. Thanking them for all their hard work, you left the kitchen but you didn’t get very far because someone grabbed your arm and yanked you behind a stack of crates and refrigerated boxes brought by the caterers. It was secluded from sight, but you wouldn’t be hard to spot if one of the workers came looking for a stack of extra cups.

Atsumu smiled down at you as you stared at him in surprise. In his hands was a plate stacked with pastries from the kitchen. Your mouth watered at the sight, but you couldn’t help but scold him first.

“How did you get those? We’re not supposed to eat these until the reception starts,” you whispered. Even so, you grabbed one and stuck half of it in your mouth anyway, almost moaning at how good it was.

Atsumu quietly laughed and ate one of his own. “I grabbed some while you were distractin’ the workers. I haven’t had sugar all day so I grabbed a couple. I figured they won’t notice a couple missin’. Thought you’d want a taste too.”

As he finished his sentence, he held your stare as he licked a dash of the cloudy frosting off his thumb. He knew what he was doing, making sure to take his time as his tongue flattened over the tip of his finger to get every drop. God yes, you wanted a taste.

Gulping, you shoved the rest of the pastry in your mouth in haste, trying to push the sinful thoughts aside. This was not the place, nor the time (as much as you wished it was). Dusting your fingers of crumbs, you licked your teeth to make sure there wasn’t any pastry residue stuck there. Atsumu gazed at you the whole time, hands gripping the plate, staring at your mouth. 

“W-We should… get back to our table-”

Atsumu’s restraint snapped it seemed, surging forward to pull you into a fierce kiss. He dropped the plate of pastries on to the nearest box and used his now free hand to cradle the back of your neck. You were surprised, but melted into the kiss shortly after. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? 

You draped your arms over his neck as he guided you back to rest against a stack of boxes. The hand that didn’t hold your neck slid down your side and hooked underneath your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his leg as high as your dress would offer. His hand kneaded the flesh behind your knee as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue making an appearance to swipe across your lips, probably gathering up a trail of powdered sugar left there from the pastry. 

You were on cloud 9, eyes fluttering as you happily let his tongue dance with yours. Atsumu let out a soft grunt as one of your hands slid into his hair, grasping at the blonde strands. As much as you wanted this to continue, in the back of your mind you knew you couldn't go further than this. Hoards of people were due to start showing up any minute for the reception, and you’d be found for sure. 

Relishing in a couple more pushes of his lips against yours, you pressed your hands to his cheeks and pulled his face away. He slowly opened his eyes to look at you in hazy, lust-filled confusion, a hum of question rising from his throat as you squished his cheeks together.

“We can’t do this here. Someone’s gonna catch us and we need to get ready for the reception.” As you spoke, you stared at his lips, both because you wanted to kiss him again and because the dark lip tint covering your lips was smeared across his mouth.

Laughing lightly, you ran your thumb over his lips, picking up the color as you went. His eyes softened at your laugh and he stood still as you worked, hand dropping your leg so he could instead rest his hands on your hips. 

“Are ya sure? We can make it quick, I promise. I’ll be real quiet, baby,” he whispered.

You shook your head and pushed his chest so he’d back up. He holds tightly to your sides as you adjust your dress back down your legs and fan your face to try to make your flaming blush go away. Atsumu hesitantly let you go as you started to herd him out from behind the boxes as nonchalantly as possible, holding the plate of pastries in one hand. 

New guests were starting to show up and join the greeting line to say congratulations to the happy couple, leaving piles of gifts at the front entrance. Atsumu had a pep in his step as the two of you neared your table, pulling out your chair for you which you embarrassingly thanked him for, shrinking under the curious gaze of everyone else. Osamu was particularly curious, raising a brow as Atsumu plopped into his chair with a sly grin. You busied yourself with watching the sea of people, smiling as they praised Kita and Kumi on their wedding and gorgeous reception. 

Atsumu and yourself ease back into the table’s conversation to wait for the greeting line to disperse. Atsumu’s hand found its way to your thigh again, this time brushing higher than it did before. You nearly jumped out of your seat when he forced his digits against the strain of your dress to drag over the crotch of your panties. You snatched his hand away as discreetly as you could, choosing to interlock your fingers with his instead, holding his hand in your lap. Atsumu seemed fine with this change and relaxed against his chair to tune back into Aran’s story of how he met his new girlfriend. 

By the time it was announced that it was time for the cake cutting, you were nearly asleep in your chair. It had been a long, eventful day and you were starting to feel the effects of it. Your eyes opened from their drooped state when Atsumu stood and pulled you up with him to gather around where the newlyweds were about to cut into their cake.

Smacking your cheeks to clear your head, you let him lead you to the crowd of people surrounding Kumi and Kita. Osamu clocked your intertwined hands immediately but didn’t say anything. Atsumu let you stand in front of him so you could peek through the bodies to watch, the heat of him grazing your spine as you watched the couple try their cake and laughed as Kumi smashed a bite into Kita’s surprised face. 

Once the cake had been wheeled away, it was time for the dancing. Everyone stood around the dance floor as Kumi danced with her brother, which brought a tear to your eye, and gentle Kita danced with his grandma which really made you cry. Then, Kita and Kumi danced together. They held each other close as they slowly danced, whispering to one another. It was a sweet moment, and you watched them with adoration, unaware of the gentle gaze Atsumu had on you, not the couple. 

As they finished their song, anyone who wanted could go out to join them for another slow song. You twisted your fingers together and watched a large handful of couples head to the dancefloor. A shock of electricity ran down your spine when a warm hand fully rested on your lower back and Atsumu pushed you forward. You had no time to decline, as he had already pulled you in front of the crowd so you’d look pathetic if you backed out now.

Gulping nervously, you shyly looked at him as he took your left hand into his right, bringing his other to rest on your lower back to tug you flush against him. Your free hand moved to rest hesitantly on the back of his shoulder when he started to sway to the soft music. You buried your face into the warm expanse of his chest to hide your blush and he brought his head down to rest against the side of yours. 

“Yer shakin’ again, beautiful,” he murmured into your ear.

Squeezing the hand that held yours, you murmured back a quiet “fuck you” which made his chest rumble with a low laugh. You didn’t say anything the rest of the dance, slowly relaxing into his hold which he noticed, pulling you impossibly closer. The end of the song came too soon and people started rushing the dance floor when a much more upbeat song came on. 

Before you had the chance to look at him, Atsumu was dragging you into the bouncing crowd, the beginnings of a mosh pit bubbling. You were swept into another dance with him, this one much more full of life. Deciding to just let go, you gave into his advances, swaying your hips and laughing loudly as the bass of the song shuddered through you. Atsumu laughed too, bouncing on his feet to the beat. The rest of your table came to dance around you, some more energetic than others, but there nonetheless. 

The more songs that played, the looser everyone got. Even Kita was getting into it. Osamu found one of the bridesmaids to dance with, a little liquid courage from multiple cups of sake flowing through him. Aran wouldn’t dance with any other ladies, as he did have a girlfriend, but that didn’t stop him from dancing with Suna who was surprisingly fluid as he danced. Atsumu focused all of his attention on you, save for the one time Suna started throwing it back, also a little drunk. Everyone’s attention was caught by that.

Besides that though, Atsumu kept close to you and got closer and closer as you danced. At one point, you helped him loosen his tie and threw it around his neck. Since everyone else was too preoccupied with dancing, and no one was going to even notice you doing it anyway, you pressed your ass against Atsumu’s slacks, hips moving in time with his to the beat. His breath was hot against your neck, large palms keeping your waist warm as you brought a hand up to scrape your nails over his dark undercut.

You could feel his excitement start to tent his light grey slacks against your backside. Looking up at him with hooded eyes, you both had a silent but simple conversation.

You needed him and he needed you. Atsumu wasn’t ashamed to admit that if you kept grinding on him like that, he’d take you right here on the dance floor.

Showing some restraint and taking your hand tightly in his, Atsumu tugged you out of the sea of dancing bodies, an excited determination in his walk. As much as you wanted this to happen, there was only one problem.

“Atsumu, where are you planning on taking us? There’s nowhere private we can go in this building.”

He halted in his steps as he took in your words, realizing that you were right. There weren’t many rooms in this barn, save for the kitchen which was packed with caterers, the bathroom which had a constant flow of people trickling through, and the occasional storage closet which were too close to the reception to be able to sneak into without being easily spotted.

Drumming his fingers on his thigh, he looked around the venue in a desperate attempt to find some sort of secret alcove or something. Just when you thought that maybe it wasn’t meant to be, Atsumu perked up and grinned.

“I’ve got an idea.” He started tugging you along again back to the table the two of you had been sitting at all night. Letting go of your hand, he started rummaging through the pockets of the light jacket he had brought along with him that had been abandoned over the back of his chair all day. 

The muffled clacking of something in the jacket pocket gave away his idea as he pulled out a simple set of car keys. Flashing you a smile, which you eagerly returned, he snatched up your hand again to start walking out to the gravel parking lot that sat a couple hundred yards away from the venue. You tried to slow him down and make it less obvious to those around you what you were going to do but he seemed to be too excited to care.

The cool outside air was refreshing against your heated skin and the sky was gorgeous as the sun started to dip below the horizon. The parking lot was packed with cars, attendees constantly trickling in and out of the reception. Depending on where he was parked, the parking lot would be just as risky as using the bathroom inside. Luckily, he led you back to the far corner of the lot where a gorgeous white car sat. Your car knowledge was slim, so you didn’t know what type of car it was but you could tell it was expensive. It had very dark tinted windows as well, which was an extra bonus.

Atsumu had backed into his parking stall, a spot at the very end of the lot so no cars were parked behind him or on one side of him giving you both the perfect spot to hide away (unless the owner of the one car next to him showed up).

“Nice ride.” You joked as the both of you stopped by the driver’s side door. Atsumu chuckled as he fumbled his keys in his hands, trying to unlock the vehicle. 

“Thanks! ‘Samu says I got an expensive car to compensate for my ‘tiny dick’, but we’re twins, so he knows that’s not true. We had one too many naked fights in the locker room durin’ our volleyball days, so I know I’m packin’ just as much as he is. Front or back seat, gorgeous?”

You giggled as he finally got his car unlocked and opened the door for you to peer inside. As nice of a car as it was, you doubted Atsumu would be very comfortable in the back seat given his size. It was a pretty slim car. 

“Front. Wouldn’t want to squish you into the back seat.” You gave Atsumu a once over as he stood with an arm resting on the hood of the car. “Plus, I’d like to ride those thighs of yours.”

Atsumu had the goofiest smile. He looked like a kid in a candy store. “You’re readin’ my mind.”

You stood watch as Atsumu worked on getting his car ready, moving the driver's seat as far back as it could go and reclining it enough so it would be comfortable for him. He cracked open the two windows on the passenger side of the car, the side that faced the forest, so some fresh air would breeze through. Finally, he slid into the car and threw the keys into the passenger's seat. If you weren’t turned on already, the sight of him lounging in the seat, outfit rumpled from the dancing, tie slung around his neck and powerful legs spread just waiting for you to settle onto them would definitely do the trick. 

Kicking off your heels, you left them sitting on the gravel outside the car and made one more cautious look around before you bunched up your dress to your knees so you could get into the car with more ease. Atsumu looked at you like you were the most gorgeous person on the planet as you moved to straddle his lap, dress hiking up a little more to rest around your thighs. 

The second you closed the door behind you, Atsumu’s mouth was attacking yours, tongue instantly pushing past the seal of your lips to explore every inch of your mouth that he could reach. His large palms kneaded the flesh of your ass through the thin fabric of your dress, and you moved to frantically rake your fingers through his dark undercut. The flex of his powerful thighs underneath yours was driving you insane, cords of muscle dragging against your skin through his slacks. You were sure his slacks were a size or two too small, because you could feel every inch of him like he wasn’t even wearing pants. 

After a couple of breathless minutes, the two of you finally separated, a string of spit keeping your mouths connected. Just like earlier, your dark lip tint was smeared over Atsumu’s lips again. When he went in for another kiss, you pulled your head back which prompted a whine from Atsumu as he tried to chase your lips.

“The makeup ‘Tsumu, remember? It’s gotta last for at least one more hour.”

Atsumu pouted and grumbled out a “fine” before focusing his attention on your neck. While he started attacking the soft skin just underneath your jaw, you started unbuttoning his vest and shirt. The more of his torso you exposed, the wetter you felt your panties get. He was gorgeously tanned and toned. Once you had unbuttoned all the buttons you could reach, besides the few that were tucked into his slacks, your hands started exploring his smooth skin. His shoulders were gorgeously sculpted, the dips of his collarbone deep. Your hands splayed over his chest, fingers brushing over his nipples which pebbled at your attention. 

His chest heaved at your ministrations, groaning in pleasure. You felt him shift his hips up into you, member straining against his slacks as he dragged it against your clothed core. Tightening your legs around his thighs, Atsumu held your hips tightly against his as he ground against you, working your neck with his teeth. You keened as his bulge dragged over your sensitive clit, shuddering as Atsumu nibbled at your ear. 

Tired of waiting, you reached beneath you to fumble with his belt, tossing it into the passenger seat with his keys once you’re able to pull it free. You make quick work of the button on his slacks, tugging down the zipper and pulling his pants and boxer briefs down just enough to bunch underneath his cock which stood at attention against his abdomen. 

Osamu was definitely wrong when he assumed Atsumu got a fancy car to compensate for a tiny dick, because it was anything but tiny. He wasn’t outrageously long, but he was thick. Thick enough that just the thought of him dragging inside of you had your eyes rolling back. 

WIth his cock now free, the friction between your panties and his member had Atsumu’s thighs quaking under you. He released one of his hands from the vice-grip it had on your hips to reach behind him and hold onto the head rest. 

“Hng- Christ, baby.” His voice was deep and scratchy, breathless as you rubbed your core against the underside of his dick, squeezing it between your body and his stomach. 

You mouthed at his throat which bobbed against your lips as he sat forward. Wrapping an arm around your back, he started digging through his center console. When he grunted in annoyance and leant forward even more to start shifting through his glove box, you nipped at his ear and huskily asked, “What’s wrong?”

Atsumu was pulling handfuls of objects out of the glove box and throwing them onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. “Shit- can’t find a condom.”

Dragging your tongue over the shell of his ear, you reached down and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. His cock twitched in your grip and his arm tightened around your back as he paused his searching.

“Are you clean?” you asked, slowly sliding your hand up over his velvety skin. All Atsumu could do was nod. “Then I don’t mind. I’m on birth control, but try to pull out if you can.”

Atsumu nodded again in agreement and leant back in his seat, watching with one of the most lustful gazes you had ever seen as you rose up on your knees to push your panties to the side, exposing your already drooling core to him. He gripped your thighs as you collected as much spit as you could in your mouth to spit onto your palm. Rubbing the liquid over his length as well as all of the pre-cum he’d already leaked, you gave him a couple pumps for good measure.

He tilted his head back to rest against the head-rest with a guttural groan as you positioned yourself over him, teasing his tip through your folds. With one hand guiding his length and the other gripping the shoulder of the seat, you sank slowly onto him. Both of you moaned in unison as he filled you surprisingly easily considering the lack of proper lubrication and the sheer size of him. 

You stopped with him half-way seated, gazing adoringly at his rosy cheeks and mussed hair. He looked back at you just as fondly. With a preparatory breath, you braced yourself on the seat and started to set a slow pace. Every thrust brought him a centimeter further into you as you adjusted to the stretch of him. He held your thighs in his hands, letting you take control for the time being and enjoying the view. 

It took a minute of work before you were able to fully sheath him inside yourself. You threw your head back and gasped when you did, the stretch of him hurting so deliciously. It didn’t help that the hard teeth on the zipper of his slacks rubbed against your sensitive folds and the button would occasionally brush over your clit.

Atsumu was barely holding it together. Your core hugged him so tightly, warmly pulsing around his cock in such a way that he probably could’ve come right then and there. Something about you just fit him perfectly in a way no other partner of his ever had. 

Once you felt like you had adequately adjusted, your pace quickened. Bouncing up and down on him, he enjoyed the view of your covered breasts bouncing in sync. He leant forward to suck on the small sliver of breast that was visible above the neckline of your dress. You whined and scratched your nails over the back of his neck. 

After a couple minutes of this, he couldn’t take it anymore. Gripping your hips tightly, Atsumu took control and started bouncing you on him himself, hips thrusting up to meet you. The new angle had you seeing stars and you didn’t care about your makeup anymore, smashing your lips to his in a kiss that was messy and wet.

Every force of your hips into his had your clit rubbing against the hard metal of his slacks and the brush of pubic hair at the base of his cock. It gave you the friction you needed to bring you closer and closer to the edge. Atsumu wasn’t faring much better - his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier and his hold on your hips getting less and less controlled. 

You didn’t have much time to prepare before you came, yelling his name as you gripped his broad shoulders, your fluids covering Atsumu’s thrusting member. It seemed Atsumu didn’t have time to prepare either because he came suddenly with a groan and spilled his load into you, groaning your name.

Pumping yourself up and down a couple more times, this time much slower to ride you both down from your highs, you rested your forehead against his in utter bliss. Breath mingling, you slowed to a stop and sat there in silence, relishing in the stretch of him seated completely inside you, the warm feeling of his spend mingling with your own deep in your core. 

After a minute, you pulled your head back to look at him. His face was flushed, eyes drooped in satisfaction and chest heaving from the exertion. The two of you started laughing in euphoria and Atsumu peppered kisses over your shoulder. You slid your fingers through his unkempt hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“That was really something, ‘Tsumu.” You hummed, giggling as he wrapped his arms tightly around you to hold you to his chest. 

“Sure was. Sorry ‘bout not pulling out. I really was gonna try but you just do somethin’ to me I can’t explain. I didn’t expect to cum that fast.” His hands explored your back, fingers running lightly over the fabric. 

“It’s alright. I’m not complaining.”

He pulled back to give you that handsome goofy grin again before kissing you sweetly. You gave him a chaste kiss before pulling away and looking down at the mess you made. Luckily, most of the mess was still trapped inside you thanks to him but if you weren’t careful, it’d get all over his slacks once he pulled out.

“How should we do this? You can’t go back in with a giant cum stain on your pants.”

He hummed in thought, looking around his car. He didn’t have any rags or towels handy, but he did have a load of napkins that he threw onto the floor when looking for a condom. Holding you closely to him, Atsumu reached over to scoop up as many napkins as he could reach. The shift of him had you both groaning at the overstimulation. 

Gathering a handful of napkins, he held them under you as you slowly slid off of him, catching as much fluid as possible. You both hissed at the feeling of him leaving you. Thankfully, he was able to catch almost everything with the napkins, save for a few splatters that got on his expensive leather seats.

“Shit, sorry ‘Tsumu. I can help pay to have that cleaned.”

He shook his head immediately, cleaning himself off with the napkins and dropping them on the floor next to his seat. He worked on tucking his length back into his boxer briefs and slacks while you cleaned yourself as best you could, pulling your panties back into place and fixing your dress. Turning your head, you pulled down his sun visor and opened the mirror to get a better look at the state of your makeup.

It was mostly intact, save for your lip tint that was slightly smeared which was fixed with a little swipe of a napkin and your hair was easily tamed since Atsumu had avoided running his fingers through it. There were remnants of your lipstick covering your neck from where Atsumu had furiously attacked. Atsumu had his own stains on his neck from where you had been kissing him. You made eye contact with him through the mirror as he gazed at you with a smirk. You huffed in amusement and cleaned up your neck, then turned to clean up his. 

He didn’t take his eyes off you as you did, watching you carefully wipe the smears off his skin. You wiped his mouth last, taking your time as you watched him part his lips for you. Once you were done, you dropped the napkin on the floor with the rest and sighed at him longingly. If only you had more time. You’d let this man do whatever he wanted to you. Unfortunately, you had a wedding reception to get back to. 

“Well, thanks for the good time ‘Tsumu.”

He watched your face carefully and you noticed the ever so slight crease fold in his brow. “Yeah. O’course.”

The silence that followed was a bit awkward, so after a second, you moved to open the car door but he grabbed your hand before you could. “Wait.”

You turned back to him and raised a brow, deciding to busy yourself with buttoning up his shirt and vest. He suddenly seemed very shy, rubbing his fingers over the flesh of your waist in little circles. Finally he spoke.

“When are ya headed back to Tokyo?”

You stilled your fingers which were working on the last button of his shirt. “Tomorrow.”

He nodded and seemed to be deep in thought before drumming his fingers against you in nervousness. “I fly back tonight but… wouldya be interested in meetin’ up sometime? I don’t have much free time but I’ll find the time for ya.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the offer. “Like… a date?”

Atsumu’s cheeks turned a shade darker in the almost nearly setting sun as he grumbled, now looking at anything but you. “I mean, yeah? Unless you don’t want it to be, then it doesn’t have to be a date I guess. Could be a friendly hang out or somethin-”

You cut him off with a brief but strong peck. You didn’t want to risk getting more lipstick on him. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

He perked up and squeezed your sides. “Really?”

You giggled and nodded. “Yes! Of course I would, you big airhead.”

The next couple seconds consisted of him raining kisses all over any part of you he could reach with you laughing and trying to push him away, begging him not to ruin your makeup. After losing the battle and cleaning lipstick off of him again, you finished buttoning up his vest and pulling your dress into place before you left the car.

You slid your heels back onto your aching feet while Atsumu refastened his belt and gathered up all the used napkins, making a mild sound of disgust at the large amounts of viscous fluid covering most of them that was getting all over his hand. Once his car was locked up, you both walked hand-in-hand back to the reception where it seemed no one even noticed the two of you had left.

After tossing the napkins into the nearest trash can, the both of you went to the bathroom to clean up any remaining mess before returning to the crowds. Plopping down at your table, the two of you gulped down multiple cups of water and started digging into the refreshments. Atsumu had consumed at least 3 onigiri and 2 little bowls of miso soup on his own before Osamu plopped down next to him, looking weathered from the dancing.

“Where have you two been? I lost track of ya like half an hour ago.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you focused on your bowl of miso soup, stirring the broth around with your spoon. Atsumu seemed to be much less embarrassed, chest puffing up in pride as he finished off his next onigiri. Osamu raised an eyebrow and studied the two of you before looking at Atsumu’s neck, where a very obvious hickey was starting to bloom and groaned in disgust.

“Jesus, y'all are nasty. Where the hell did ya find a place to jump each other’s bones around here, huh? Out on the grass? There are kids here.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as Atsumu angrily started defending the two of you. “O’course not, jackass! Do you really think so little of me? You really think I’d do that?”

Osamu instantly agreed that he would, in fact, probably do that. Atsumu grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and shook him around. “No! We did it in my car, thank you very much. And it was amazing. Have you ever done it in a car before, ‘Samu? Doubt it! No chick will ever want to go down on you if you keep cruising around in that beater of yours!”

The twins really started getting at it now, yelling at each other and rolling around on the ground, trying to get the last punch in. You tried to avert your eyes and pretend you didn’t know them. Kita, bless his heart, came up to separate the two who instantly fell to their knees to apologize for making a scene at his wedding. 

Atsumu came to you after, pouting about his brother and sporting a busted lip. You coddled him, helping clean the blood off his chin. Osamu gagged from his place at the table, now sitting next to you instead of Atsumu so they didn’t try to fight each other again. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. The dancing finally wrapped up and the send off was magical. The newlyweds ran through the line of guests who held sparklers above their heads, making for a magical exit into the night as the couple set off for their honeymoon. You had to stop Atsumu from starting Osamu’s hair on fire with his sparkler shortly after, taking both men’s sticks from them to put in a water bucket. 

All of Kita’s old volleyball friends stuck around to help clean up, helping put away the tables and chairs, and taking down the decorations. By the time it was over, you were wiped and ready to go back to your hotel room to sleep until noon. 

As you were loading up the last of the boxes into the trunk of your car, you felt someone come up behind you and ghost their hands over your stomach, pressing a tender kiss on the back of your neck. You smiled as you closed the trunk, reaching a hand up to slide through Atsumu’s soft hair. He buried his face in your neck and the two of you stood there for a minute, savoring the warmth of each other in the brisk darkness. 

“I wrote my number down on a napkin and put it in yer purse. Call me when y’ get back to Tokyo tomorrow, ‘kay? Wanna make sure y’ get back safe and sound.” 

You smiled and turned to face him, running your fingers over the tie that still hung loosely around his neck. “I will. I’ll text you when I get back to my hotel so you have my number, and you text me when you make it back to Tokyo tonight too. Need to make sure my date makes it back in one piece.”

He smiled and nodded in agreement, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

A day you thought would be full of nerves and worry, had turned into one of the best nights of your life.

-

If you thought Kita and Kumi’s wedding was nerve wracking, it didn’t hold a candle to your OWN wedding. 

Pressed close to Osamu’s side, you waited anxiously as the wedding procession in front of you started their walk down the aisle. Since you had no living male blood relative that you wanted to walk you down the aisle, your now almost brother-in-law was immediately your first choice. He was surprised, of course, but said yes in a heartbeat. Atsumu’s twin had easily weaseled his way into your heart soon after you started dating Atsumu, as rocky and embarrassing as your first night meeting him was.

He gave you a free meal every time you visited Onigiri Miya, and charged Atsumu full price to make up the difference. He gave you the most embarrassing pictures of Atsumu in his phone to use for blackmail. He was the ring-leader in making sure everything was perfect the night Atsumu proposed to you, keeping a crowd of people at bay to make sure you and Atsumu were alone when he dropped to one knee in the middle of a large gorgeous bridge at the popular tourist site, the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. He got yelled at in many languages that day from the angry tourists who wanted to cross the bridge, but it was well worth it. Suna, who held off the swarm of people on the other side of the bridge, would agree.

Just like you had the day of Kumi and Kita’s wedding, you were trembling and clutched Osamu’s arm desperately. He looked down at you and smiled. 

“You’re ok, (Y/n). Everything is going smoothly. All you have to do today is make it down that aisle to ‘Tsumu and enjoy yourself for the rest of the night. We’ll take care of everything.”

You looked up at him with a teary smile at his words. With no siblings of your own, your relationship with Osamu meant the world to you. Standing on your tip-toes, you softly kissed his cheek. “Thanks, ‘Samu.”

It was finally your turn to walk down the aisle. With a deep breath, Osamu slowly started to lead you into the room packed with family and friends. It was a gorgeous building. High steepled ceilings, white and burnt orange flowers scattered over every surface available. Since it was mid December, an outside wedding was impossible with the cold but you couldn’t have picked a more perfect place to get married in. 

The actual place itself didn’t matter though, as much as the man who waited down the aisle did. Atsumu was dressed in a gorgeous black tux that was pressed to perfection with a sleek black tie to match. His hair was styled the same way it had the day you met him, brushed casually to the side. To your surprise, Atsumu was already crying.

Seeing you walk down the aisle in your beautiful dress, on the arm of his life-long best friend broke him down immediately. You couldn’t help but tear up yourself as Osamu brought you to him. Osamu softly gave your trembling hand to Atsumu, kissed your temple, and gave Atsumu a crushing hug before taking his place at the front of the line of groomsmen. Speaking of groomsmen, you noticed many of them were also already crying. 

Atsumu’s teammates were lined up next to him. Kita and Aran both had tears lining their eyes. Hinata and Bokuto, who you became fast friends with, were almost on the verge of full-on sobs. Suna wasn’t crying but had a smile on his face. Sakusa wasn’t crying either but didn’t seem as bored as he usually did. 

“You look so beautiful.” Atsumu blubbered out in a whisper as he moved to take both of your hands. Your wet eyes sparkled as you took in every inch of him.

“So do you,” you teased, which made him laugh. 

The rest of the ceremony both flew by and dragged on. You stumbled through your vows, trying to keep your tears at bay which proved mostly unsuccessful. Atsumu was in the same boat, barely able to make it through his own vows without choking up. 

By the time Atsumu dipped you into a fierce kiss, you were sure your makeup was already ruined from your tears. Everyone cheered loudly in joy. Osamu was hooting and hollering. Hinata and Bokuto finally succumbed to their emotions, crying hysterically. You were breathless by the time Atsumu brought you back to your feet, steadying you with his hands as you smiled widely at the crowd.

Interlocking your fingers, Atsumu led you back down the aisle through the shower of white confetti just like he had the day you met him. In fact, your photographer captured the moment almost in the exact same way that Kumi and Kita’s photographer had. You loved the photos so much, they were hanging up side-by-side in your and Atsumu’s house. 

In both pictures, the two of you were smiling more than you ever thought was possible, holding hands and looking at each other with such tenderness you could feel it through the photo. You didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but looking at the photos side-by-side, you realized the two of you had looked at each other that fateful day the same way you looked at each other on your wedding day.

[carlottawllms]

Author’s note: After my mini-series "Memory Loss", this is my first real and detailed series and I really hope you like it as much as I do! Huge thank you to @mountttmase for being my biggest supporter and motivating me to keep going when I was too disheartened. Without you, this series would never have been published. Thank you!

Also for this series pls keep the following in mind: Mason is his current age, but contrary to reality, he’s been playing for United for years.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy! 🩷

-

When you’d gotten ready for work and made your way to Carrington, you’d hoped for a calm start into the new week. But you probably should’ve known that the chances of that happening were practically non-existent. There were no calm days at Manchester United; there was never a day without bad news coming your way and as one of the club’s PR managers, you could count the number of calm days in a year on one hand and then again, they usually only ever happened during your summer holidays.

But that today’s news would cause more than the typical chaos and would instead throw your whole life into disarray certainly hadn’t been on your bingo card for the week…

You’d just got out of the car and were on your way to the main entrance when you were met with the last person you’d expected to see here: Mae.

A former good friend of yours and Mason's ex. He and you had been best friends pretty much since he started at United and you’d introduced them to each other - not quite intentionally, but it had happened.

Mason and Mae had hit it off pretty well right away. So well, in fact, that they'd been together for about three years until he’d called it quits about a year ago. Albeit unplanned, they also had an adorable 2-year-old daughter together, the one you recognised in the background, holding on tightly to your best friend’s hand.

What was going on?

“Morning.”, you smiled. “You’re alright?”

“Yeah, perfect actually.”, she nodded, a disturbing bright smile on her face. “Mase might need your help from now on though. Have a good one, y/n.”

“What- Mae, I-“ You didn’t even have the time to question anything as she simply brushed past you and jogged to her car, not sparing anyone another glance.

“Well, that was weird.”, you mumbled under your breath, making your way over to the entrance where Mase, Ellie and Luke were still rooted to the spot.

Mae and your best friend shared custody of Ellie. As Mason was often travelling due to training camps and away games, he didn't have set days when he saw Ellie, but always gave Mae his days off a few weeks in advance so she could adjust. And it had actually worked pretty well so far...

Until your strange conversation with her just now, you’d thought that maybe she had an emergency or had to work spontaneously but judging by her good mood and Mason's completely horrified expression, neither was the case.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you this early. Good morning munchkin.” You squatted down to Ellie’s height with a bright smile on your face. Whatever was happening, she didn’t need to know just how worried you were and when you opened your arms, she fell straight into them.

“Look, auntie y/n.”, she said excitedly, nearly smashing the fluffy elephant she was holding into your face.

“If that isn’t the cutest little elephant I’ve ever seen. Does it have a name?”

Ellie nodded rapidly at that. “Noodle.” Her wide grin told you everything about proud she was of that name and although it was a rather odd one and made you want to laugh, you simply poked her little button nose.

“What a special name you’ve chosen there, princess. Well done.” With a kiss to her head, you stood back up, searching for Mason’s eyes immediately, but he still looked as shocked as before.

“What’s going on Mase?”, you asked, voice low to prevent the little one from listening in. “Why’s she here and why was Mae so weird?”

When Mason didn’t answer, Luke thankfully stepped in. “I haven’t caught everything, but she basically came here, dropped Ellie and the bag off and then told Mase in brief that she’d signed over full custody to him because she no longer wants to restrict herself. She talked something about leaving England and going to Dubai, but she didn't finish, so I’m not entirely sure. Mase tried to talk to her, but she just said there was nothing to discuss and that he could take responsibility now after the two years she’s had her. Said he’d made enough money in his career to be able to retire early and take care of his kid. Well and then she was gone. I tried running after her but…”

Your heart had dropped further into your stomach the more he’d said and once he was done, you were ready to throw up. It wasn't so much the fact that she left Mason alone with everything that was hurting you, but that she had the heart to leave her sweet little daughter behind like that; to break her heart and abandon her as if she didn’t mean anything.

Ellie was only your goddaughter, but you’d do literally everything for her. What kind of mother was cruel enough to leave her own child behind?

“Oh my god.”, you whispered, your gaze dropping down to that innocent little girl who probably had no idea what had just happened. The thought that in the years to come, when she’d have a better understanding of everything, she might come to the conclusion that it was her fault that her mother left her; that she wasn't enough, broke your heart. “Mase, I’m so sorry.”

You wrapped him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible and when he eventually wrapped his free arm around you and hid his face in the crook of your neck, your heart broke all over again. He probably hadn’t really registered the extent of it all yet, but you could already tell how fragile and scared he was. His heart was beating way too quickly in his chest, his breathing irregular and once he’d calmed down and pulled away, the mist of tears and panic were easily recognisable in his big brown eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”, you whispered. “I’m here, I’ve got you both.”

After kissing his temple, you turned to Luke. “Take care of him at training, okay? Make sure he’s alright and not spiralling. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You kneeled back down in front of Ellie. The little girl had clutched her plush toy to her chest, hand still having a tight grip on her father’s fingers. “How about you and Noodle spend the day with auntie y/n, hm?”, you asked, tickling her sides a little. “I’ll show you my office and then we’ll go and gave a girl’s day. How does that sound, hm?”

The smile, that resembled her father’s so much, appeared on her lips. “Wif ice cweam?”

“Well, of course.”, you laughed. “It’s not a girl’s day without ice cream, munchkin.” You hoisted her up in your arms and as she was comfortable enough around you, she immediately sank into your body, arms wrapping around your neck, with the elephant still in her small hands.

“You finish at three?”

“Yeah, but I can-“

“No, no you can’t.”, you interrupted him, knowing that he wanted to propose calling it a day earlier. “You have an important game on Saturday, and I know what happened is major, but Mase, this little one here wouldn’t want you skipping training sessions or games, alright? Ellie and I will have a perfect day, you’ll get your pretty little bum out on the pitch and I’ll be back at 3.”

Your comment about his bum had actually brought up a tiny smile on his face and eventually he sighed and nodded. “Fine, but you can call me if som-“

“You do realise I’ve done this a lot, don’t you?”, you laughed. “Luke, just take him inside please. See you at three, Mase. Say bye to daddy, Ellie.”

“Bye daddy.” The little girl reached out and wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck in a mini hug and when he squeezed her tightly and made her giggle, your heart leaped in your chest.

In the beginning, right after he’d told you they were expecting, you’d had your problems with imagining Mason as a dad. Not because you’d questioned his abilities or whether he was meant to be a dad because the way he was with his niece just showcased how perfect of a dad he’d be, but back then he’d still been so young and a kid himself sometimes and you’d worried that they both had underestimated the responsibilities a child brought.

But against your worries, he’d been the perfect dad from the very first second on and whenever you saw him with Ellie, you couldn’t help but swoon over him and his interactions with his daughter.

After speaking to your boss and explaining the situation without giving too much detail as it wasn’t on you to decide how much Mason wanted to share about this topic, you took the day off and quickly drove towards one of your favourite breakfast spots as Ellie had negated having had breakfast already.

The little girl insisted on sitting in your lap whilst eating her yogurt and as she usually was quite the independent young lady and very much into doing things herself, it made you wonder if she’d understood more of what had happened than you’d thought.

Throughout the whole day, she seemed a little clingy; always either holding onto your hand tightly or wanting to be carried and everything about it pulled at every single one of your heartstrings. She was only a 2-year-old little girl; she should be carefree, laughing and enjoying life because it was still easy, but instead she was holding onto what she had left.

“Oh!”, Ellie suddenly exclaimed, pulling you from your deep thoughts. “Bwaseles.”

For a second you were confused what she was talking about, but when she eventually pointed at the little shop not too far from you, you realised the was talking about the woven bracelets they had.

“Do you want one?”, you asked, walking over to the shop with her on your hip. “Which colour do you like?”

Ellie took a moment to look at all the colours before she made grabby hands at the pink one. “This one, yeah? Should auntie y/n get one too?”

“Pink!”, she nodded and as smiled at you like that, you couldn’t help but stare at her little face for a moment. She was a carbon copy of Mason, had always been and would always be. There was not a trace of Mae and whilst at first, you’d felt a bit sorry for her as she’d carried her for 9 months only for her to look exactly like Mason, now you were glad she did.

She had the same features, big chocolate brown eyes, dimples when she smiled, and her tiny cheeks were littered with freckles. Her hair the same colour as his and she also scrunched up her nose adorably when she didn’t like something.

She was a mini-Mason; visually as well as in character.

“Oh, so we’re matching? I love that.”, you grinned excitedly before kissing her chubby cheek, making her giggle. “We could get daddy one too, you know? You can give it to him when we pick him up.”

After paying for three pink bracelets – the shop owner was kind enough to tie them around Ellie’s and your wrists – you made your way back to Carrington. It was shortly before three when you parked the car and lifted Ellie out of the child’s car seat you’d got fitted for her just recently.

She clung to your neck as you tried to set her down, so you kept her up and walked over to the main entrance with the little girl on your hip.

Mason was in deep conversation with Erik as you entered the building, probably filling him in on what had happened this morning as the expression on the manager’s face seemed concerned, but it wasn’t long until he spotted you and his player’s daughter. He waved you over with a smile and once you reached them, Erik gently tickled Ellie’s side.

“Hello you.” His smile turned into a laugh rather quickly as Ellie reached for his head, evidently surprised that there was no hair. The confused look on her face was way too adorable for her own good.

“Hi baby. Did you have a nice day with auntie y/n?”, Mason kissed her cheek as he took her from you and the little girl was quick in nodding. “Bwaseles.”

Your best friend furrowed his brows. “Brasles?”, he repeated and to you it sounded pretty much the same, but Ellie frowned and shook her head no.

“Bwaseles!”, she said again, this time a bit more determined, but as you could still see the confusion in Mason’s face, you decided to put him out of his misery.

“We’ve got matching bracelets.”, you explained, holding out your hand for him to see and Ellie, wanting to do the same, nearly smacked her dad in the eye. “And we got one for you too.”

“Yes daddy!” Ellie fidgeted in Mason’s hold as you pulled the bracelet out of your pocket. You could see in his eyes that he’d been hoping for a different colour, but as it came from his daughter he wouldn’t dare to complain.

Shifting Ellie a little so he could hold her with only one arm, he held the free one out and watched your slim fingers tightening it around his wrist and when Ellie beamed at him, he couldn’t help but smile brightly himself.

That little human in his arms was the most important person in his life, closely followed by the rest of his family – which included you.

Once Mason had grabbed his things, you walked to the carpark together. “I have a couple of things I need to do, but I’ll come over after, okay?”

“y/n, you don’t have to. I don’t want to be a burden an-“

“You could never be a burden, Mase.”, you smiled. “Either of you. It’s okay if you don’t want me to, then I’ll just go home, but I assume you’ve got some things you want to talk about, hm?”

Mason searched your eyes for a moment, unsure if he wanted to take up on your offer. What had happened to him meant a lot of baggage and he didn’t want you to suffer from it too, but he knew he couldn’t do this alone.

“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”, he sighed. “We can order something for dinner then.”

You said your goodbyes not too long after that and whilst Mason went home with Ellie, you got started on your little plan.

Obviously, Mason had the most important things at home. The nursery was equipped with everything a 2-year-old would need, but you knew that everything else, such as food, snacks and drinks, he hadn’t stocked up enough for even the week as normally she didn’t stay over on such short notice and especially not for such a long time.

And as you didn’t want him to have to go through the faff of getting all the stuff after exhausting training sessions, you’d decided to use the rest of your day off for helping him out. You’d spent enough time with him and Ellie to know what she liked so it was an easy thing to get done.

After a quick stop at your flat for a shower and a change of clothes, you arrived at Mason’s at around 5.

“Come on in.”, he smiled once he’d opened the door. “What’s all that you’ve got there?”

“Well, everything about today was very short notice and I assumed you weren’t properly prepared, so I went to the stores and got you the most important things.”, you explained, your cheeks blushing as you only now noticed how slightly invasive that sounded. Maybe he’d wanted to do it himself? You quickly brought the two bags inside so he could close the front door. “You should get through the week without having to get new stuff. I just thought it would make things easier for you, you know?”

Mason simply stared at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. He was overwhelmed, positively so, and when the tears welled up in his eyes, he pulled you into his chest. Arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, trying to will the tears to stay inside, but it was to no avail.

“Oh Mase.”, you sighed, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m here whatever you need.”

You kissed the side of his head whilst holding him as tightly as he was holding you. It was obvious how much he’d needed this hug and when you felt his hot tears on your skin, you started running your hand up and down his spine, whilst the other gently scratched the back of his head.  

It was the sound of Ellie’s voice that had you pulling away eventually. You gently wiped the tears off his reddened cheeks, thumbs brushing right beneath his eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Coming, princess.”, he called, gratefully taking the new colouring-in book you held out for him. “I’ll get her to play in her room for a bit. Be right back.”

Whilst he was sorting his daughter, you put the groceries and kid’s supplies you’d bought away and put the kettle on and before you knew it, Mason was back downstairs.

“C’mon, sit down.”, you nodded towards the kitchen table and once you sat opposite him, you locked your eyes on his. “How do you feel, Mase?”

“Lost.”, he admitted quietly. “I don’t know…before today everything seemed to be okay. She’s never said anything before and especially not that she doesn’t want Ellie around anymore. Whenever she came to pick her up she seemed happy to have her back and then today, she bulldozed in, dropped the bag to the ground, handed me Ellie who looked frightened as fuck and just told me that she doesn’t want her anymore. She had the decency to talk quietly so Ellie didn’t have to hear everything, but y/n, the way she talked it sounded as if our daughter was some sort of toy you could just give away once you were done playing with it. She literally said she’s had her for long enough and that now it’s my turn to take care of her. I just…this is all just so fucked up.”

When his eyes filled with tears again you weren’t sure if it was tears of sadness or pure frustration. Maybe it was both, but either way, it hurt you to see him like this. Carefully observing his reaction, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in sympathy and when Mason didn’t pull away, but instead wrapped his fingers around yours, you sent him a soft smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mase. I don’t understand her either and I know it’s difficult right now, but what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one, y/n.”, he sighed helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m away a lot, you know that. I have training til three, games and away games. Erik said I can take off a week to figure everything out and he’d still play me that weekend, but obviously when I stay away for longer, he’d have to bench me. I feel like I’ve been put in a position where no matter which decision I make, it’s the wrong one. But then again, I don’t really have a choice. Until I’ve found a nanny or something, I’ll have to stay home, I just…I don’t have a plan.”

You hated seeing him so down and distraught. He was this happy person who’d climbed every mountain, no matter how high, with a smile on his face so far but right now he looked as if he’d reached one that was too high to conquer.

“I do though, Mase. I have a plan, but I don’t want to overstep, okay?”, you started, squeezing his hand and when he nodded, you continued.

It was an idea that had spontaneously popped into your head in the car earlier. It was completely crazy and when you’d briefly called your best friend Kay during your mini-stop at home and asked her for her opinion, she’d openly doubted your sanity for a second.

But you didn’t care.

“What Ellie needs now is stability and a structured day. I still have about three weeks of annual leave, and I could take at least two weeks any time now, meaning you’d get one week with her so she can start to feel comfortable and at home and when you get back, I’ll be here. I would talk to Elizabeth if it’s possible for me to work part-time and from home and since it’s only for about a year until Ellie can join nursery school, it wouldn’t be forever. This way you wouldn’t have to go through the faff of finding a nanny you trust and put Ellie through getting to know a new person.”

Mason was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “No, I can’t ask that of you, y/n.”

“You’re not asking, Mase. I’m offering.”, you smiled, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. You knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but you meant it.

“But…she’s not your daughter, you shouldn’t have to…and I just…I can ask my mum and-“

“Mase, hey, I just want her to be okay. If you rather your mum do it, then I’m okay with that, told you, you can totally say no. I was just thinking that she’d have to permanently move here and her life is down in Portsmouth. No matter the decision, Mase, you know they’ll come up here often anyway.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out what was best, and you gave him the time he needed. It was a big decision and one that he had to feel comfortable with.

“We could make a trial run, if you like.”, you added softly. “You know, see what it’s like those two weeks with me and if you want your mum to take over, you can still get her up here.” 

“You would do that?”, he asked quietly, not believing you’d give up a huge chunk of your life for a child that wasn’t yours. “You would actually do that? Take two weeks and then work from home? Part-time? y/n, that’s a huge thing and I don’t want you to abandon your own life for a girl that’s not even yours.”

“I love her, Mase. She’s not my actual daughter, I know that, but I’m her godmother and I love her and want her to be okay. I would do everything for her and for you, too, so unless you don’t want me to, I would love to step up and do this for you both.”

[sunshineandspencer]

heyyy!! idk if you take requests or anything but I was listening the song “Three Letters” from She Loves Me and heard the line “If it weren’t for your endearing letters/ I’d be flying south will all the geese” and totally thought of Garcia signing up Spencer for a lonely hearts thing (as a kinda joke kinda not) and so he starts writing the reader but don’t know it’s each other. then they agree to meet somewhere and realize it’s each other and?! idk if that makes sense lol thought it was cute though

Three Letters (Request)

A/N: Hello!!!! I definitely do. I just haven’t had the chance to sort it all out (colds and farming sims own my life) but let me tell you this idea has me kicking and screaming. I’ve done something like this before but I can’t find it for the life of me and I love the idea that they’re writing to each other and just don’t realise - I took it as the sense that they’re co-workers and Garcia signed them both up, not expecting them to get each other. I really hope this is what you were looking for!! Also I have never heard of a lonely hearts thing (I’m British) but I love the idea of it, and hope that it’s definitely what google told me it is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Garcia is tired of Spencer being single, and if the only way to fix that is to sign him up for a singles pen-pal society, then so be it. While she’s at it, let her add their other co-worker as well, there’s no way that could have any impact.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, implied sa but nothing detailed

be added to the taglist

Some part of him knew that this was a good thing, that talking to someone and hopefully getting a relationship out of this was a good thing.

However, Penelope - loving, caring, thoughtful Penelope - had been hard at work ever since she met him to find him somebody to love. It.. hadn’t gone well, and that is the politest possible way he could’ve phrased that without hurting her feelings.

First there were the dates, with a collection of either Penelope, JJ or Elle’s friends - none of which had turned out great.

In fact, one woman had stormed out the minute she saw him, because she assumed that FBI agents were all muscle and Spencer was the last thing she wanted to see. Another zoned out every single time he started talking, just humming or nodding until even he realised that she wasn’t interested.. she fell asleep in her damn salad. The final straw, however, was the woman who got outrageously drunk and tried to blatantly ignore his aversion to touch.

He got out of that as soon as he found her friend to get her home safely, and swore off ever trusting a date from any of those three women ever again.

Penelope, however, didn’t give up.

Her next plan of attack started online, with dating websites. Notorious in their line of work for usually being full of catfish and UnSubs, and many dating websites led to men and women being murdered. But she’s insistent, and he’s desperate to love somebody.

There are only several things that went better than his first foray into the online dating scene, and one of those is a vehicular fire, which tells you all you need to know.

Several of the women he matched with ended up only looking for someone to help them cheat on their significant others, many of them married. Which made his bright outlook on love slightly dimmer. The final woman from the online dating websites was the woman who turned out to actually be an UnSub - looking for cute young men to complete her ‘collection’, a human version of an antique doll set.

It was not a fun case to take part in, certainly not when he was greeted with the way he would’ve turned out had he met up with the woman and not done a background check on her first.

After that, he firmly shut down Penelope’s insistence on dating apps as well, his technophobia had barely survived having to use a computer for so long, and the library computers were an embarrassing place to try and match with the ‘love of his life’. So an app on his phone. Absolutely not.. he doesn't even know how to do that.

There was a break, a few months where Penelope didn’t try to push him into anything new or exciting, or downright horrifying. He turned twenty-four, he had a failed date with JJ, in which she actually bought along Penelope, and suddenly it all changed.

In his letterbox a couple weeks after that, was a letter. It had his home address on, but not his name, merely addressed to whoever this may concern.

It was gorgeous craftsmanship, a cream envelope with an actual lilac wax stamp on the back, with little flowers pressed into the wax. Of course, assuming this was an incoming case, he called Garcia to try and trace it, where she finally came clean.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot, I signed you up to a lonely hearts club. It’s a small society for two single people to exchange letters anonymously so you can get to know each other over time. It’s all handwritten! I thought you’d like that more than having to use a computer again. I’m sorry pumpkin, I- I can take you out of the society if you like?”

He thought about it, he actually thought about it so long that Penelope actually thought he’d hung up on her, or died, or something else entirely because he’s never this quiet.

But.. how bad could it really be?

It could, theoretically, be terrible, but it can’t hurt to try one last thing. He would have contact with whoever this is - he’s assuming a woman from the handwriting and the care gone into just the envelope alone - and if it all goes to hell then it just wasn’t meant to be.

One last try at love, he can grant himself that. Anonymously, he can do that, give himself a pen name and try to fall for words on a page - his written word was always better than his verbal flirting anyway.

As it turned out, however, he didn’t need to give himself a name, she’d given him one already.

“Hello sweet thing! Sorry if that comes off as too strong already, I’m just incredibly nervous and didn’t know what else to call you, so that is officially your name from now on. Unless you hate it, then you can absolutely tell me and I promise not to cry about it. I really don’t know what to say, do I start with my favourite things? Well.. I like Doctor Who, and I’ve always--”

The more he read of the letter, the more he wished it was even longer. This woman, wherever she is, whoever she is, is starting to make this out as the best idea Penelope has ever had.

He all but crashed his way into the stationary store, grabbing the prettiest envelopes and pens, and little details to add to the letter that he was so excited to add. Steamrolling through the store and getting back home to quickly respond. Instantly realising he was being far more.. poetic than he meant.

It was the combination of the childish excitement of having a penpal, his mother reading him love poems as a child, and his extensive knowledge on love letters.

Hell, he even ended his own letter with a Shakespeare quote. Basic, he knows, but it’s hard to think of anything beyond wanting her reply.

“‘Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.’ Yours, Sweet thing.”

It had been nearly three months of exchanging letters, and he was absolutely smitten with this woman. They had stuck to the rules and not given away any of their information, only talking about the things they like and eventually writing nearly daily.

It would be daily if it weren’t for the useless postage system.

He knows that she lives pretty close to him, he knows her address, plus they’d both admitted to searching each other’s houses, and they’re only about twenty minutes away by car.

That’s it, however, they haven’t looked for the other person despite being desperate for it.

They had described themselves through letters, but both ultimately agreed to just talk and see how it goes and base their furthering relationship off that rather than off their looks. Of course, that just sprung up more worries that he won’t visually be enough whenever they finally meet.

Meeting was, by far, the one thing he both wanted and dreaded.

This woman, who he had only ever addressed with a barrage of cute nicknames and poetical references, who understood his every word and reciprocated his nerdy obsessions and added her own.. he wants to know her so badly.

There is a very big underlying fear that the minute they meet, it’ll be over, the magic of what they are will fade and he’ll lose all this. The thought of her letters being sent to someone else physically pains him.

Penelope, ecstatic that one of her ideas had finally worked, had been badgering to meet with his ‘mystery woman’ for weeks now.

Finally, when she also, tentatively asked to meet with him for Valentine’s Day of all days, he knew she couldn’t deny her a single thing. Not when she sent with her letter, a coupon for flowers on their date.

A date. God.. he has a date for Valentine’s Day.

Not really a holiday he’s ever put much thought into before, but now it suddenly felt like the most important day that had ever existed. And one that came up far sooner than he expected it to.

Even with the place booked - a cute little café a little ways between both their apartments - and his outfit picked, and a card and little teddy picked with the help of Penelope, he didn’t feel ready. Perhaps it’s the lingering fear of rejection the minute she has to deal with him in person, or the fact that his last dates certainly didn’t go well.

Even with Penelope’s reassurance that she’ll adore him, especially after she actually read through his twelve page letter after she’d asked for his opinion on Egyptian mythology. Sending back her own absurdly long letter with a bunch more questions and her own fun facts that she could remember. He’s still absolutely losing his mind at the thought of having to finally meet her.

He got to the café about half an hour earlier than he needed to, wanting to make sure it was perfect (definitely not because he would’ve gone insane at home).

Spending whatever time it took for her to arrive making the table look nice, messing with his hair in the reflection and wondering if it really was getting too long. Constantly fixing his tie, and redoing it a hundred times over and tucking into his maroon cardigan sweater which Elle had called ‘dorky’.

Once it got to fifteen minutes before their date should’ve started, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, immediately rushing to get up and turn to meet his mystery writer. But.. it’s just the waiter, asking if he wanted another drink.

Jesus, they probably think he’s been stood up, and he quickly asks for another glass of water. 

As the man walked away, he ran his fingers through his hair again, looking towards the door - he’d been sat with his back facing it or else he wouldn’t have stopped staring for fifteen minutes.

Immediately, someone was looking at him, a vague sense of recognition swimming across her face. For a few split seconds he thinks it could be her, a beautiful woman with a bouquet of purple lilac blooms in her hands, but then he realises who it is, offering a small wave.

She’s friends with Penelope and, by extension, he’s spoken to and interacted with her quite a few times. They got on pretty well but never anything more than that since she’s always busy, part of the FBI’s CSI unit, and she’d even helped on a few cases before. But she isn’t here for him, she can’t be.

Walking over, she gives him a bright smile, eyes darting to the empty table and three empty water glasses - he’s been here for a while.

“Spencer! Hi! It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, I like the outfit.”

Looking down at herself for a few moments, she grins and then looks back up, doing a quick spin and then settling him with a mock-serious look.

“I’ve got a hot date, Penny said he would like this.”

“You look beautiful, don’t worry.”

Ahh, there goes any chance that she’s here for him, offering a smile and reassuring her that she looks great, eyes darting behind her to the door as she bounced on the balls of her feet. Eventually sucking a deep breath between her teeth and looking back as well.

Which got his attention, especially when she looked around the rest of the café with a confused look on her face. Sighing softly and looking around, his date wasn’t here, may as well help her.

“What does he look like?”

Turning back, she offered him a bashful smile, but she wasn’t going to turn down his offer of help, not when he’s tall and can see over all the stupid tall people around the café. Also.. it’s a very weird thing to explain.

Moving a hand to fidget with her necklace, his eyes focusing on it, vividly remembering her letters.

“--honestly, I have the coping mechanisms of a child. I still play with my necklace when I get nervous.”

“I don’t actually know, it’s sort of a blind date. Really hard to explain, Penelope kind of set us up in a way. I’m actually about fifteen minutes early so he’s probably not even here.”

There is.. no way this is happening right now. She’s still looking around the café for her mystery date, who might just be standing in front of her and he.. doesn’t know what to say or how to get his tongue to pick up from the base of his mouth.

Suddenly, and pretty violently, he’s flooded with the personality of the woman he’s been talking to for months, all of it projected onto her in front of him. It matches, from what he remembers.

The vague descriptions, her proximity to the FBI building, the fact she knows Penelope, the little TARDIS pin he’d seen on her lanyard that he never got the nerves to ask her about. Turning up to a date with a guy she doesn’t know, holding a bouquet of flowers that clearly weren’t for her, causing the flower token in his back pocket to start burning.

Fishing it out and stepping closer, getting her attention, surprised eyes snapping up to meet his at his sudden proximity. Until he took her hand and shoved the handmade coupon into it, her breathing immediately coming in short as they both looked down at it. Her voice trembled slightly.

“Oh~ hello sweet thing..”

“.. hello.” At his soft voice, she looked up and she gave him a completely bashful smile that matched the cute little poetic ramblings she’s been obsessed with for months. “Uhm, are those for me then?”

They both looked down at the flowers in her hands and she handed them over, feeling her heart shoot up into her throat as their hands brushed. Pointing at the purple lilac blooms as if he wouldn’t already know the meaning.

Needing to focus on something other than the fact that she’s going to kiss Penelope Garcia hard on the mouth for this.

“They uh- they are usually given to someone you meet for the first time, and signify the first emotions of love. Kind of love at first sight- not- not that I’m saying I’m in love with you, that would be a crazy thing to say on the first date- absolutely crazy--”

He eventually shut her up, leaning down to peck her lips softly, all nerves and panicked rambling dropped to just look up at him, in utter awe. Okay, maybe she can fall in love with him, she’s already halfway there with a month of letters.

Carefully, he guided her to their table with a hand on the small of her back as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and also he’d just kissed her to shut her up, and it worked.

“It’s fine, I love them, really. And Penelope was right, as your date I love the outfit.”

“Thank you, I love your sweater and-- ohmygod--”

As they sat down at the table, she buried her face into her hands, causing him to panic slightly, reaching out to carefully touch her shoulder. Saying her name worriedly as he set the flowers onto the table.

But she just looked up with a soft whine of embarrassment, peaking at him over her fingers.

“I called you my hot date to your face! That’s so embarrassing.”

Instantly relieved that it wasn’t anything he’d done, easing into a soft laugh and leaning back in his chair after squeezing her shoulder.

“It was cute! You didn’t even know who I was and you still called me hot.”

“It’s mortifying, you’ll never forget it and use it in your wedding vows or something.”

Sure, she was joking, but in the back of his head he filed something away for the future. A tiny, mental box, labelled ‘wedding vows’, wondering how long it would be until he could actually use that. 

Until then, he’d have to stick to ordering dinner on their first date.

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides @peachsodameg @angelinajolie0213 @jiggly-puff-12 @khxna @kennedy2156 @trulycayla @none-of-your-bullshit @alexxavicry @meg-black @princess76179 @khxna @chicken-fifi  (if your tag is here and it doesn't work, check your settings to see who is allowed to tag you or this might not work)

[cokoweee]

OKAY.

Took me WAY too long to finally analyze this bad boy but I’m HERE NOW-

Let’s begin. ~

First off- THIS BACKGROUND.

Look at it. Just- LOOK AT IT. This seriously looks like a storyboard from a Disney movie, you wickedly talented person, you. The lights, shading, and perspective are all GORGEOUS.

Next.

We know that Donnie has a huge struggle with drinking ever since his family passed. Drunkenness is what helped him through that horrible time, thrusting himself into the inebriating arms of the liquid that helps him forget and live without feeling all the pain.

And yet- there’s this newest update. Here at an extravagant party, an event where you’re ENCOURAGED to overindulge on the drinks, Donnie has had about a sip. That’s all.

And here he’s actually thinking that he won’t finish it. A drink. In his hand. His old friend that has helped him through every night of his miserable life- he’s refusing completely on his own.

Donnie’s seriously grown so much. 🥹 Getting to know Kendra, having the device in his head removed, and truly FEELING emotions again have been helpful steps in his mental and emotional recovery.

And even how much he and Kendra have grown together- how he protects her and how she fights for him.

And here’s a nice little comparison- DONNIE is helping Kendra when SHE’s drunk. We’ve seen this before, but in reverse! Tello has always been the one in the inebriated pov, but here he’s helping and protecting Kendra.

And that’s just lovely to see. 💜

Even here, Donnie’s having a “spidey sense” moment looking out for Kendra. As well as AGAIN refusing a drink.

Character 👏 growth 👏 YESSSS

And now we get to this panel. And to an important question we’ve ALL been worrying about:

What happened to Kendra while Donnie and her were separated at Big Mamas?

I don’t know about you guys, but I was not convinced that everything was a-okay on Kendra’s end. After she emerged from the bathroom, she was acting strange. Like- not Kendra strange. Almost like she was drunk enough to be calm- but we didn’t see any alcohol- so hmmmmm???????

And then her and Donnie go on a flippin musical date-night montage trying on outfits for Big Mamas party. And AGAIN. Kendra is NOT acting like herself.

And Donnie catches this too, the panel before this one asking if Big Mama did something to Kendra.

And THIS is her reply-

Sooooo OKAY. 😦👌 Now we know that Kendra has most likely seen Big Mamas spider lady form. Fantastic. But what Kendra says AFTER is what’s really throwing me for a loop-

“She could literally peel me like a shrimp before I get the chance to scream.”

That… sounds like a threat from Big Mama. Just add a few “biddlidoos and bobsquinkles”…

So. WHAT. The FRICK HAPPENED.

Also… “watched her eat a bus-boy”

Eh SCUSEEEE ME?!?!?…..

*brain attempting to process information noises*

To add on to the mystery of what’s going on with Kendra- she says THIS.

Donnie’s ACTUAL name. Not “Othello” not “dummy” not “nerd”… she called him by his true name.

THAT AINT NORMAL.

And then- the biggest thing in this update that exploded my perception of time and space~

*brain fizzling and popping noises*

THIS IS ALL WRONG- THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO- NOT NOW- AND KENDRAS MORE INEBRIATED THAN JACK SPARROW-

She doesn’t even know what that kiss just did to Donnie’s brain. (Nevermind his HEART). She probably won’t even remember it after that night-

AAAAA COKO HOW CAN THIS BE SO AMAZING and DEVASTATING at the same TIMEEEE??

(But seriously your story is amazing and I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for what happens next!!)

Okay I’m done. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

Drink water and when you can see what the sun looks like. ;)

~ Melissa

Thank FUCK the background was okay cause I struggle with that shit so much. Love seeing asks like these makes me all giggly kickin my feet n shit like a goof

Donnie’s finally in his “slightly better kinda” arc lol. Bout time innit? He’s been blended enough. Speaking of blenders I’ve been having Kendra in hers 🤓 and she ain’t done yet

Glad you liked the update tho! Actually a lot of yall did hot DAMN. I was planning to have atleast three this week but my backs killin me and I’m bein too slow.

[noneorother]

The secret timeline inside of Good Omens season 2 revealed, *part1*

Part 1 l Part 2

If you’ve ever watched a ballet or an opera, you know how the rhythm in the music is used throughout to determine not only the movements of the dancers, but also when lines are sung or spoken. This is almost unheard of in television, but what if I told you it was hidden in season 2 of Good Omens? If one were to, say, meticulously cut together only the scenes set in the present day into one big timeline, you would get one long video that is exactly 2 hours 22 minutes 00 seconds and 00 frames long. An ineffable cut that is so perfect it defies all logic. (I’ve burnt a timecode into this ineffable edit to help pick up the rhythm.)

Even though there are large swathes of the second season with no music, there is a constant tempo weaving its way through the show: What if the seconds ticking by in the runtime itself was the music? Here’s an example of what I found. Behold a supercut of every single time Shax shows up, or Hell is mentioned in series 2 in the ineffable edit. They always arrive on a 6 in the time stamp (ex: 00:XX:X6).

(SOUND ON is an absolute must here, otherwise you won't hear any of the triggers)

Shax rings Crowley on a XX:X6. Shax miracles herself into the car on a XX:X6. Shax knocks on windows on a XX:X6. Shax’s big scary moment at the bookshop happens at 66 minutes exactly (lol). Crowley calls out for Shax on a XX:X6. Beelzebub starts spewing flies on a 6. People mention hell and it’s always on XX:X6 etc. etc…(Bonus: I also left in Maggie flipping the damned the double-bird on a XX:X6) I’ve also left in the only appearance of Shax or hell at all in the whole series that isn’t tied to a six: the park bench scene with Crowley. Shax seems to be off by one line, showing up on a XX:10, then back to XX:X6 on her second reply: “Bills, mostly”. I can only theorise that this scene, while technically in season 2, is not supposed to *be* in season 2 (even just judging by the trees, sun and the overcoats, it’s not summer like in the rest of the season). And it’s not only sixes! Every time I go through I find more and more little beats that line up exactly with ineffable timings. I can only do one video per post, so I’ll have to cut it up into sections, but Gabriel, doors, car horns, bird calls, Aziraphale, food, drinks, Angels, dialogue, Maggie, Nina, jokes, clocks, bells… The list goes on and on. 

Neil called this season “The bridge”

Because we all know how much Neil loves double meanings and wordplay, I just have to ponder the idea that when Neil said this season was “the bridge” between seasons 1 and 3, he meant it double-literally. First, as in the bridge Aziraphale and Crowley have to cross in order to get them into position for the second coming. We even see the physical manifestation of this bridge leading everyone in the background of the opening credits. But this season is also a bridge in the sense that it’s a musical section that introduces new ideas or material in the middle of a song. This whole season is the music that deviates from the familiar, and re-contextualizes the chorus and the verses so we can appreciate them in a new way. 

Let’s not forget that 2:22 is also exactly the same timing as this (and only this) track from the good omens s2 album (read all about the soundtrack here):

Why is this so bonkers? I think GOS2 might be the first ever “Total” series of television.

Having everything in the series timed and choreographed would actually make it a very faithful adaptation of the Powell & Pressburger film The Tales of Hoffmann (read about the movie and it’s effect on all of s2 here). If you watch the tales of Hoffman, you will realize that the entire film is actually done more like animation, with the music and vocals all performed in a studio, mixed and edited first, and then the actors came back to act out their choreographed and lip-synched parts for the cameras afterwards. The result is "Total film": a movie that feels more like a ballet, with every movement, action, and line happening in time with the music. As far as I can tell, very few films have ever attempted this, with The Tales of Hoffmann and Playtime being the only two “complete” films I could find in this style. (The Red shoes has one section, and An American In Paris has a few)

“Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (…) was in some way an admission(…) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered, (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made.” - Criterion review, Tales of Hoffmann

Here’s a simple example from An American in Paris

If season 2 *is* scripted and choreographed to line up with specific timings, I’m pretty sure that would make this the first ever “total” or “composed” season of television ever attempted. Not only does this take an ASTOUNDING amount of planning, scripting and editing finesse, not to mention a completely controlled set, it takes a real understanding of how to perform as an actor using rhythm and metre, which would go a long way to explain why all of the main actors coming back for season 2, with the exception of John Hamm, are well regarded theatre performers, (especially of Shakespeare).

I’ll leave you with one last surprise I found in the discovery of the ineffable edit: remember Aziraphale’s smile at the very end if the credits? It happens on 02:23:03, as the first step off the bridge, and into season 3.

I will have much more in the next ineffable timeline post. Stay tuned…

__________________________________________

Thanks for reading all the way to the end. It’s taken me a solid month to get this perfect. There are so many hidden cuts and jumps to take into account, and I had a frame rate issue that kept exporting to 29fps instead of 25fps, but I’ve finally nailed the ineffable timeline enough that I am confident sharing in it.

Credits to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable for all the support and help with editing and just general good vibes.