#this pose was so fun to do I can’t lie

[sevenofdiamondsart]

dazai for @lotus-pear ‘s dtiys! congrats on 5k (well 6k now ahaha)!!!

[esote-rika]

Red is Your Color | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: You just committed perhaps the most atrocious wrongly sent message ever. By some trick of nature, your coworker is more than willing to play along. (This is from @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient prompt list. Character receives scandalous selfies from a coworker; check out her prompts, they're really fun!)

Content: softdom!spencer, fingering, multiple orgasms (female receiving), p in v, creampie, reader is on the pill, Spencer calls reader a naughty girl and pretty girl, tenderness and lots of checking in, vaguely Christmas themed. 

Word count:  3.1k

A/N: I read something really poetic and profound yesterday and it inspired me to write, but my mind was in the gutter, so this happened. lmfao happy holidays. UNEDITED, I wrote this at 2 in the morning T.T

Do you think Santa would bend me over and punish me?

Spencer Reid was almost too scared to even open the following messages—he’d already made the mistake of opening this one. And there was a barrage of them, sent a few minutes after the very first one, in quick succession, one right after the other. His phone buzzed and buzzed, matching the distracting hum in his brain at the moment. He should probably read the next messages, because surely, surely those contain the explanation to this one.

Unfortunately, his eyes were glued on this first one—it seemed like it was the only one that contained a picture, after all, and what was that they said about a picture saying a thousand words?

What could it mean then, this picture his coworker had sent to him? What did it mean that he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from it? (What did it imply if he didn’t want to? That he liked the picture? That it made his pants uncomfortably tighter?)

He stared at the picture, his eyes greedily taking every inch of smooth skin exposed by the short, strapless sexy Santa dress his coworker was wearing. It wasn’t explicit—she was fully dressed, after all, but the caption, paired with the way she had been posed… Sitting on what he presumed was her bathroom counter, her legs artfully crossed, the fabric of the dress hiked up to reveal long, luscious thighs. With her pursed lips painted crimson, it was obvious what the message was meant to imply and Spencer felt his mouth grow dry. He shifted on his seat, both hands gripping his phone because he didn’t trust them not to wander down, to give himself relief.

No, he should not be jerking off to his coworker. He shouldn’t even be fucking looking at this photo. He should delete it, call Penelope and ask her to rewire his cloud or memory or data or whatever it was called. Just to get rid of it from his phone. That would be the decent thing to do, and Spencer had always prided himself on being a gentleman. 

He knew that would be futile; knew his mind would be treacherous and have the image of her with those supple thighs, and red mouth in his dreams, his nightmares, in every fantasy—

His phone was ringing.

He stared at it, wondering how she was sending so many messages so quickly, before he realized that she wasn’t texting anymore.

She was calling.

His thumb found the answer button without his consent. The next thing he knew, her voice was pouring from his phone’s speaker. Soft. Contrite. Embarrassed. He frowned. What on earth was she embarrassed about, he wondered. She, who looked stunning, who looked good enough to be worshipped—

“—Please say something, Spence.” she was saying, pleading, and something in his gut clenched. That nickname, coming from her lips. That nickname, coming from her lips, while she was wearing that dress.

“Spence—”

“It’s all right,” his voice was strangled. He cleared his throat, “It’s all right. I’ve deleted it.” Lie, what a liar, she deserved better than hastily told lies.

“Okay,” she sighed, relief palpable even without seeing her face to face, “I just didn’t want to get in trouble with HR, on top of everything.”

HR. He almost laughed. They wouldn’t care (unless someone blabbed, like what happened with Derek and Penelope, but he would never do that to her, not in a million years.)

“You wouldn’t, I promise… it wasn’t even that explicit, if I’m being honest.” he heard himself say. He rubbed his eyes in frustration—why did he have to add that?

Her laughter floats from the phone, nervous and low. “I guess not. I wasn’t about to send a complete nude to my friends.”

He straightened up, confused. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice still wavering nervously, “Like I said in my texts, it was wrongly sent to you, I was talking to my friends.”

In other words, it wasn’t for him. He would have known that, had he opened her texts, had he not been too busy ogling the picture she had mistakenly sent, the picture that wasn’t even for him. Something unpleasant burned in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of the curiosity that lingered.

“You send explicit pictures to your friends?”

“I thought you said it wasn’t that explicit,” she chuckled, “But, uh, yeah I do… I dunno, maybe that’s weird, but we were joking around.”

That was something new he learned today. That friends could casually send sexually charged photos to each other. The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So you don’t actually want to be bent over and punished?”

Dear heavens, sometimes he understood why his teammates gave him weird looks. If he had a mirror, he would give himself a weird look. Still, he held his breath for her answer, surprised by the wave of disappointment at the thought of her saying no, it was just a silly text.

The pause grew between them, and Spencer was almost about to apologize, when she spoke again.

“I mean, if someone were willing to do it…”

He swallowed. His pants felt tight once again, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths. This was not an invitation, he thought, she had not asked him, she was not saying if you wanted to do it (which, he does, desperately so.)

“Right.” he managed to croak. Another pause, as if she was contemplating. 

“Spencer,” she was whispering now, “Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“How fast can you get here?”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

You’re not sure what possessed you into inviting your coworker over, but you did. And now, you’re sitting in your living room, in that blasted sexy Santa dress, panic texting your friends about it. He had said fifteen minutes. Eight minutes had gone by, and you knew he would fulfill his promise. He would be here in seven minutes.

Perhaps you weren’t expecting him to agree. Your perception of Spencer Reid has always been of a sweet genius, wholly brilliant and too preoccupied with academics to even give a second thought to sex and romance. He was a germaphobe, for crying out loud, you had thought it would make him have some sort of aversion to the inevitable sticky, sweaty mess of two bodies coming together. 

But you’d heard it in his voice. Strained, low, and riddled with desire. 

So you had mustered enough courage to ask. And now—

Your doorbell cut through your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you shoved your phone into a drawer, not wanting to see the offensive piece of technology for the rest of the night. You looked out through the peephole, and there he was, still in his office clothes. Tall, and slender, and dishevelled and yours for the night.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heavy thump in your chest. 

He smiled. “Hi.”

“You’re early.” You teased, standing aside to let him in. His eyes were glued to you, pupils dilating as he took you in.

“You’re still wearing the dress.”

Right. Once you had realized you sent the text to Spencer instead of your friends, you had spent the next several minutes in agonizing anxiety, sending text after text to Spencer in an effort to explain. In your utter mortification, you had forgotten to change out of it.

He seemed to like that. It gave you enough confidence to surge forward, blindly, recklessly.

“I am.” You said, red lips tugging into a smile you reserved for handsome strangers at a bar. You lowered your voice, just enough for the next words to come out breathless, “Honestly, it’s a little itchy.” 

“Is it?” He stepped forward, crowding you into the door. It creaks as it moves with your weight, the knob clicking in place. He reached forward, and you held your breath, anticipating his hands on you, gently running over your skin, but instead they closed over the doorknob, locking it. He didn’t miss your reaction, though, his eyes a glittering night sky of sweet, utter want. “Maybe I can help you with it.”

You nodded, mouth parted in silence, whatever words you wanted to say have died in your throat.

He brought his hand up, caressing your jaw, and you marvelled at how large his hands are, long fingers reaching the nape of your neck. “Red is your color.” he murmured, before leaning in to capture your lips.

His lips were cold and chapped, and you returned his kiss eagerly in an attempt to warm them. Your mouth opens at one swipe of his tongue, moaning as he leans his whole body into you, pushing you harder against the door. Tonight, you learned that Spencer Reid, the sweet, unassuming genius, kisses like he wants to crawl into you. It’s a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth, and a whimper escaped your mouth as he bit your lower lip.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling away for a moment. 

As an answer, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and returned the fervor of his kisses. You heard him chuckle, felt it on your own tongue as it happened and it made your knees buckle from sheer want. 

His arms wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up into his embrace. You felt him move, stumbling across your apartment before setting you down again. The blunt edge of a drawer hit your lower back, just as he pulled away. 

A whine left your lips. You didn’t know if it was from the pain, or the loss of his kiss.

“Turn around, darling.” he murmured, but your brain was so damn distracted you just stared at him blankly. He grinned, hands at your hips gently maneuvering you to face away from him. “You said you wanted to be bent over.” 

Chills went down your spine as he pushed you forward, elbows landing on the smooth, wooden desk. 

“Y-yeah, I did say that.” you managed to reply. This time, the breathless quality in your voice was not an affectation. You felt his nose on your neck, pushing away the stray locks of hair, before his mouth landed over the skin, open and wet, traversing the expanse of your flesh with reckless ardor. You moaned, craning your head back in a wordless plea for more.

You felt teeth, the sting of it clamping over your flesh. You didn’t even realize you’d yelped until he stopped.

“Sorry,” he whispered, soothing the bite with his kisses.

“It’s okay,” You replied, one hand reaching up, running through his hair. “Do it again.”

The rumble of his laughter made your stomach warm. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucked at the spot he bit, and you would have face planted into the desk had it not been for his hands holding you up. 

“You’re a naughty girl,” he purred against your skin, “Aren’t you? Sending that picture to me, I bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

“It was,” you protested, but then he grinds his crotch into your ass and any indignation was stifled by the feeling of how damn hard he was. “It was - I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to make me this hard?” he asked, rolling his hips against you, “I think you knew exactly what you were doing, naughty girl.” Before you could answer, you felt something digging into your ass. He was tugging at your panties. To the side, as if he couldn’t even be bothered to strip it off of you. 

It was hot as all hell.

“My god, you’re absolutely soaked for me.” he groaned into your ear, and you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers ran through your cunt. Somehow, his fingers have remained cold, and the sensation sent a shudder down your spine.

“S-Spencer,” you whined, knuckles finding leverage at the edge of the desk you’ve been sprawled over.

“Mhm? What is it, darling?”

“M-more.”

His laughter filled the room once again, “And I thought I was being needy.” he said, but he obliged your request easily, slipping two fingers into your pussy. His breath fanned over the overheated skin of your neck as he buried his face against your shoulder, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you moved your hips against his hand, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. You’d never enjoyed this by yourself; your own fingers were thin, too short to cause any sort of pleasure when you touched yourself. But Spencer’s hands were large, his fingers long and elegant and perfect. They curled inside you, hitting a spot you’ve never been able to with your own hands, and you cried “Oh, fuck yes!”

It was everything. Quite literally. His arm was holding you against him, his body a solid, lean mass behind you, pressing into the slopes of your own, digging in wherever your softness yields to his hard angles. You moaned and moaned again, as his fingers quickened, as his thumb found your clit and rubbed fast circles until your arms gave out and your entire upper half was splayed on the desk. 

He didn’t stop, cooing soft words into your ear, his tongue and lips and teeth a whole other dangerous territory of its own. You knew you would have hickeys tomorrow. You knew the team would ask questions. You didn’t particularly care.

“Can you take more?” he asked, and you nodded, eager to take whatever he was going to give. A third finger slid into your dripping cunt, stretching you in ways you haven’t felt in a long time and you groaned, head buried in your arms. He paused, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, “Are you all right, darling?”

“Yes.” you sobbed, and you knew he wouldn’t believe you because you sounded sad, and everything that Spencer has done up until this point proved that, despite it all, he cared. 

“You can tell me if it’s too much, you know.” he murmured. His lips laved featherlight kisses along your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, bucking your hips. The idea of being slightly incoherent from the pleasure he’s been giving you was a little too enticing, and you were in no mood to stop, “Please.”

“Okay,” he resumed his ministrations, slower this time, dragging his fingers in and out of you with a precise rhythm, now that he’s figured out your weak spots. “You are so pretty like this, darling. Dress hiked up, your lipstick smudged.”

A mewl came out of your throat, and you would have been embarrassed if you still had the presence of mind to feel an ounce of shame. He coaxed a second orgasm from you, and you marveled at the fact that he could elicit responses like these with just his fingers. It seemed unfair, but a large part of you reveled in it.

“That’s it,” he whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out, “That’s my pretty girl.”

You lifted your head from your arms. The sight that welcomes you is a blurry one, impeded by the clumpy eyelashes and messy tears that had gathered in your eyes. You knew you looked a mess, far from the pretty girl he kept repeating, but you ate up the praise all the same.

As if by their own accord, your hips move back, grinding into his erection. You wanted more. You wanted him to be in the same daze you were in right now, wanted to be one. “Spencer,” you whined, and he laughed, and you wondered if it was possible to get drunk off of a sound.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” he replied, playfully chastising, but the sound of his belt buckle reached your ears and you grinned.

“Just wanna make sure you get something too.” you mumbled.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I had forgotten a condom?”

Now it was your turn to laugh, bracing yourself on your elbows again, and looking over his shoulder.

“Wow, isn’t your whole thing the complete opposite of forgetting?”

“I was a little distracted.” he said, his smile sheepish.

“I don’t mind,” you replied, “I’m on the pill.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm-hmm.” You nodded, one arm moving and blindly grasping for the zipper of your Santa dress. His hand gently encircled your wrist, placing it back on the desk.

“It stays on,” he said, as the blunt tip of his cock pushed past your pussy, “I told you, red is your color.”

Your mouth dropped open as he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust, and wordless expression of pleasure. He had spent a large chunk of time fucking you with his fingers, and the necessity of it dawned upon you now.

He was big.

The stretch made you groan, eyes squeezing shut as your pussy fluttered around him. He pressed his body over yours, pushing you into the desk as he began to rock, in and out of you. Involuntarily, you clenched around him, earning a sharp hiss.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, holding you tightly around the waist with one arm. The other went to the desk, steadying himself as he found a rhythm that made you writhe beneath him, “Oh god, yes.”

You couldn’t even respond, your body moving on autopilot, meeting his every thrust with your hips. The sounds your bodies made were obscene, wet, sloppy noises of flesh meeting flesh. It filled your head, made you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Spencer,” at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated his name. The world has anchored all meaning to that one sound, and you said it, over and over again, “Spencer.”

“Mhm,” he responded by snapping his hips, pushing his cock so deep into your toes curl, “That’s it, darling, say my name.”

“Spencer,” you said in your broken voice, every repetition turning higher and higher in pitch, and it seemed like the higher your voice went, the harder he fucked you. Your desk banged against the wall from his rough thrusts, joining the cacophony of sounds from your coupling. 

His pace grew rougher, faster, his grip on you reaching the point of painful and bruising, but it made your head spin in the most delicious way possible. You clenched around him, squeezing his cock in an attempt to find your peak, and instead initiating his.

“Fuck—” he groaned, as his load exploded inside you, somehow filling you even more, and you dropped your head to the desk again as your own body shuddered with release. 

Panting, and exhausted, you both stayed there, bent over the desk half upright, like a tower about to topple. He kissed the back of your neck as you fought to catch your breath. Looking over your shoulder, the sight of him fills your vision, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead, his lips smudged with your lipstick, and you couldn’t help but think that red is his color too.

[pinkhoodi]

bat dads or girl dads ? girl dads !

✎ᝰ — bat boys as girl dads !

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff + children ??

♡⃕ — a/n: dick as a father would make me- nvm that !

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ “no” rarely exists and he realized that a while ago. when his beautiful daughter was first born, he would be stern (still loving) and make sure to deny any of his daughter’s requests. as years go and his daughter gets older, it becomes harder to say no to his precious child

Ꮺ he won’t admit it but it’s something about her adorable features that make it harder and harder to say no. even if it’s the most wildest request, he’ll try to accomplish it or tell her “I’ll think about it”. the cute pout, the ways her eyes widen, and her adorable going please please please dad. how can he say no :(

Ꮺ BUT if he can’t obtain that request, his favorite excuse is “I’ll think about it”. even when his daughter catches onto his games, he’ll continue use it and just throw on an extra lie to help out

Ꮺ bruce is the dilf that everyone flirts with and it’s exhausting for him. he tries to avoid pta meetings at all costs but can’t cause his daughter loves those meetings. while the women flirt, the daughter gets free cookies ;p

Ꮺ this man bruce is studying long and gruesome hours on how to raise a girl. raising his eldest son at ten years old is the closest thing he had and it wasn’t helping. prepare yourself for the “am I doing this right?” “is this good for her?” “are you sure this is what we should give her?”

Ꮺ surprisingly, he became quickly accustomed to his bat cave and his office being glittered and glammed. the buttons on the monitor have stickers and his batmobile having a bow on it

Ꮺ learning from his mistakes from his other children, he will try to leave little to no detail about his night activities to his daughter. she knows about the bat cave (due to exploring and being bored in the mansion) but he refuses to take her on missions and don’t allow her to be in the bat cave if the mission is extremely dangerous

Ꮺ daddy-daughter days is something bruce prioritizes! he doesn’t care what is planned before or after that, he’ll make one day every month to spend time with his daughter. whether it be going to the mall, the movies, spending the day at a kids play center, or even napping. that day in his calendar is meant for his daughter and his daughter only

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ the most laidback father you could ever meet BUT he knows when it’s time to be concerning and when it’s time to be the fun dad

Ꮺ the man almost passed out when his gorgeous daughter was born. he couldn’t take how adorable his lil girl was in the room, he had to step out and started crying. he couldn’t believe he’s a father now :(

Ꮺ it does take jason time to adjust being a father. his patience isn’t the best but he is learning ! he tries as much as he can to unpack all his bad qualities and become better for his daughter before she was born

Ꮺ as much as he is laidback, he is also very cautious and makes sure to have all his weapons away and locked up from his daughter. he refuses to let ANY incident happen just cause he was being careless

Ꮺ he is one to always allow his daughter to decorate his face, no matter how ridiculous he looks. he’ll gladly pose with stickers on his eyelids, three bows on his head and one tied on his wrist, and heart glasses on if it makes his daughter happy

Ꮺ his daughter is lowkey his mood maker. he won’t admit but however his daughter feels is how HE feels. but he won’t take it out on her, absolutely not ! if she’s grumpy, he’s grumpy with her. she’s hungry ? he’s hungry as well. even if he’s feeling fine, he’ll play along with her so she can get what she want from YOU (mischievous mfs mmcht)

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ the most girliest dads of all girl dads <333. he’s there for any and everything and is NEVER one to say no to his daughter. though sometimes he doesn’t realize when to be a disciplined dad and a fun dad

Ꮺ he’ll make sure to never, and I mean never, have his daughter follow into the life that he is in. as much he enjoys saving gotham and bludhaven, he refuses to let his daughter lead into a life of danger and being unsure of whether or not he’ll be home soon

Ꮺ he has an endless amount of pics of him and his daughter. his lockscreen is you and him holding her at six months old, his homescreen being his daughter at one years old, and even his voicemail is him and his daughter saying hi and sorry to miss your call

Ꮺ being a dad is something dick cherishes so much and he’ll gift everything his child wants and more. he’ll do any and everything to have his daughter be happy, even if he can’t get it

Ꮺ between him and his daughter, the exchanges of “I love you dad” and “I love you more” happen more on his side. many “I love yous” as the two of them giggle and he kisses her forehead. they’re so cute :(

Ꮺ unlike bruce, he loves going to pta meetings. he does get uncomfortable with the flirting from other moms but he’s really only there for the free treats and how to better improve his daughter’s education

Ꮺ the biggest gift giving dad as well ! he likes coming home with a surprise in his hand and hearing his daughter gasp and smile at the gift in his hand. it warms his heart when she says thank you and hugs his leg tightly, nearly squeezing it with the gift in her hand

Ꮺ the two nap a lot together. it’s one of dick’s favorite pastime when he’s relaxing with crime fighting

♡⃕ the bat boys as girl dads ☹️🫶🏽. it would be uber cute seeing jason walk into his helmet decorated in barbie stickers

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: 2 thessalonians 3:3

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[leclercstars]

ROCKSTAR [pt. 2]

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Things heat up in your hotel room after Lando and Oscar signed your tits at COTA. It’s okay to drunk text a celebrity… right?

Warnings: 18+ alcohol, sexting, masturbation implied

this one is so fun i cant even lie

You flopped lazily onto your hotel bed. It was almost 1, and you were basically hammered after spending the night in downtown Austin. You got plenty of wide-eyed stares when people noticed the famous signatures prominently displayed on your cleavage. You were still in shock about that whole situation- and it felt like a dream in your drunken haze

You opened your phone to give your best friend back home an update on your weekend- when you suddenly saw the unsaved number in your phone. Fuck. You had ACTUALLY forgotten about that part of your day. You groaned with exhaustion and confusion. What the hell were you supposed to do with Lando’s number? Especially after that comment he made about “saving the pictures for later”

Whatever. You could worry about that in the morning. The vodka sodas spilled all down the front of you coupled with the faded and smeared signatures had you looking like a wreck. You stumbled to the bathroom to get in the shower- hoping that would help you clear your head.

You stripped down and then turned to face the mirror- the signatures now even more visible in your nakedness. You were feeling bold.

“Finally about to wash you off of me lol” you texted Lando. You hastily set the phone face down on the counter- but it buzzed back at you almost immediately.

“Oh yeah? Let me get one last look before you do” Lando responded.

“Is he asking me for nudes right now? What in the actual fuck is my life,” you thought.

You posed in the mirror- leaning forward to push your tits together so the signatures were extra visible. Your nipples were piqued from the coldness of the hotel- but you were so drunk you couldn’t really tell if you actually looked good. Fuck it. You hit send.

A minute passed. Two minutes passed. Your heart was thumping.

“Fuck baby,” was the response you saw on your glowing screen.

“Baby? I can’t believe he’s just coming right out of the gate with the pet names,” you thought.

Was he touching himself right now? You sort of hoped so. You put your phone on silent and jumped in the shower. Why not leave him wanting more? Besides- your drunk brain was not fit to be sexting a famous person.

Part 3 from Lando’s POV???

part 1

[yujinnieswifeu]

Can you do sassy insolent baby girl dramatic princesse tomboy reader × who you want

(Reader always make fun of her girlfriend but that's just that she kow her girlfriend to well and that's one of her way to say "i love you" not that she can't say "i love you" but yk. Reader is a good observer too and is in high school, reader is known for laughing a lot and making fun of her friends,classmate,teacher her girlfriend and even her girlfriend friends/members reader is a real troublemaker and quite bad at school too that' swhy she need her girlfriend help too do her homwokrs that doesn'thepl her case too)

i'm sorry i'm just rambling my bad you don't have to read it all

And g!p idol×bottom reader

thank in advance

-🎀

pairings: sub!fem reader x dom g!p Ahn Yujin

warnings: smut, cock warming, p in v, Yujin has a cock, cumming inside pussy (don’t do this irl)

a/n: hi 🎀 anonn~, tq for the request, really had fun with this plot heh and ofc everyone know im gg to write for Yujin when you said any idol 😋 also i tried to add in all the things u said but im pretty sure i missed out some, hope it’s still fine tho😣 enjoy~~

———————————————————————

Another day of school, and you thought it would be any usual day. It started of the same, you waking up later than the alarm you set the previous day, groaning as you groggily make your way to the bathroom to bath, getting dressed for school before rushing out of your apartment when you realised the time. It was only when you reached the gates that you looked at your phone, seeing multiple texts from your girlfriend.

7:35am

Hey cutie, good morning ;). Can’t wait to see you later🥺

8:02am

Baby? Why aren’t you awake yet 😞, miss you sm :(

8:33am

Don’t tell me you’re late again uh? Or are you still sleeping? 🤨

It makes you smile, and you quickly reply to her text, letting her know you just reached school. “Hey Y/n!” You heard a familiar voice, looking up as your face lit at your best friend. “Liz!” You went up to her, giving her a quick hug which made some passer by’s stare but you couldn’t care less. You and Liz were always like this, heck, if you weren’t dating Yujin now, people might think you two were a couple, but of course, word spreads fast in campus.

“Where’s your one and only?” She teases, which you react with a playful eye roll, raising a brow and your hands at your waist as you attempt to make a pose to act all cool. “Well obviouslyyy, she’s later than me!” Liz just laughs, her laughter dying down when she looks to someone behind you, only for you to hear the person cough and you bit your bottom lip. You were definitely in it now if she just heard that. “What did you just say Y/n L/n?” That voice.

It makes you shiver inside, a cheeky chuckle escapes your lips before you turn to pout at your girlfriend, which she rolls her eyes at. “You know, this girl here only replied to me now, and look at her hair, she was obviously rushing, weren’t you Y/n?” You look to Liz for help, watching as she slowly backed away and mouthing a ‘sorry’ before heading off first. “Babeee, why you need to embarrass me like that?” You whine when your best friend had gone, and Yujin smirks, her head tilted slightly with her brow raised.

“And why did you lie to your best friend hm?” You could only pout, your hands tucked in your pockets as your head was down. “I’m just playing with you love, i knew why you did that.” She was softer this time when she sees how you were acting and you gave her a wide smile. She boops your nose with her index which makes you giggle slightly. “Hey lovebirds, class is starting soon you know?” It was Wonyoung this time, her hand slung around your shoulder as she attempted to tease your height again.

“Wony! I’m not that short!” Wonyoung and Yujin laughs instead, and you glare slightly at Yujin who purses her lips together to stop her own laughter. “Sorry babe, you just look so cute.” “You mean when i’m this short?” You retort immediately and she couldn’t stop the smile appearing from her face. “You know why.” She winks, her attempt to flirt with you when Wonyoung was still here makes your face beet red and Wonyoung just blinks her eyes, not understanding a thing. “T-that doesn’t mean i am one!” You argued, and Wonyoung suddenly understood it. “Ohh, we learn something new about Y/n everyday hm?” She joins in and you just rolls your eyes. “We both know Yujin is the bottom!” You try again, sticking your tongue out at them before wiggling your way out of Wonyoung’s grip, before heading to your classroom. “Shall we see later?” Yujin shouts a little as you walked off, and you waved them off, feeling the hotness in your cheeks when you think about it.

。。。

“And that concludes today’s lesson!” Your last period finally ended, and you were so glad it didn’t last any longer. You quickly gathered your things, not forgetting the homework of course, thinking of only one person who can help you with it during the weekends. “Y/n? Can you stay back a little while?” The teacher’s voice makes you stop packing, your heart suddenly racing as you knew it was probably something to do with your grades.

“Sure.”

“So…i’m going to assign someone to be paired with you to help you with learning this topic, is that fine?” You were anxious on who it was, just hoping it wouldn’t be a guy as you nod your head yes. “Okay, hm let me think. I do have a student who is really good in this topic, it is a girl so don’t you worry.” She says, seeing how you were less tense after hearing her say that it would be a female. That was until you found out the student that she mentioned was Yujin, and you suddenly grew all tense again.

“A-and you didn’t tell me about this? You know your grades are important right?” Yujin was frustrated, combing her hair back with her fingers. It was after school when she just dragged you back to her place, her grip tight on your wrist with no explanation whatsoever. It was only when you two were in her room, and she sits you down on her chair rather forcefully that she spilled her frustrations, which brings you to the situation now. You were screwed.

“I…I can explain.” She glares at you, which makes you shut up. You knew in this situation to not talk back, after all, you were weaker in your studies. “I’m not doing your homework for you anymore.” She snaps coldly, a shiver runs down your spine, Yujin has never gotten this upset before so it scared you a little. “Yujin…” “You need to learn to do it yourself.” She continues, her arms now crossed as she looks down at your state. She knew you were feeling tense at the situation, and her chiding you would not be enough to help you. “I’ll help you.” Her tone was softer this time as she kneels, her arms on your thighs as she takes your hand, giving you a reassuring smile that catches your breath every single time.

You could feel your cheeks turning hot, and you let your hair cascade down your face to hide the blush as you bit your bottom lip. “Thank you Yujin ah.” She brushes your hair back behind your ear, and pinches your now red cheeks. “Cute.” You swat her hand away, suddenly feeling even more shy as you cover your face to hide the smile. She laughs, attempting to remove your hands to plant kisses all over your face making you squeal as you melt into her touch.

。。。

“What does this part of the sentence mean?” Yujin ask you for the countless time today, and you just stared at her with a blank face. She groans into her hands, clearly understanding this wasn’t working. “Baby…” she drags, and you pout, playing with your fingers instead. “It’s hard to understand.” You whine out loud, which makes her tilt her head at you, her palm against her cheek as her elbows are against the table. “You were distracted, thats why.” Your girlfriend says sternly, and you knew she was right.

But how could you control that? After all, you get easily distracted by everything, especially when it comes to your girlfriend. Yujin suddenly had an idea, a smirk plastered on her face and you cock a brow at her. “What?” She bites her bottom lip, taking you by the waist over her lap, it makes you gasp, feeling something poking between your asscheeks as you attempt to grind yourself against her even more. “Mm..how about if you’re able to get all the exercises right by the end of today…” You could feel her hand slowly undoing your sweatpants, as it drops down to the floor. “Then i will reward you hm?” You whimper softly, your lips pursed as you gave her a pleading look but she just glares at you.

“Be good, or nothing at all hm.” She wraps her fingers around your neck, not strangling you, but letting you know who was in charge as you gulp slightly. “Y-yes Yujin.” She smiles at your reply, contented with your answer as she asks you to stand, removing her pants. You immediately feel yourself salivating at the sight as she removes her boxers along with her pants, watching how her cock immediately springs up against her tummy, some pre-cum forming at the tip. You wanted to lick it so bad, to kneel and let your girlfriend fuck your mouth like the slut you were for her cock, but you knew she wouldn’t give you what you wanted just yet. “Sit down baby.” She spreads her legs a little, and you understood the assignment.

You sit down slowly on her lap, your back against her front, her hands spreading your asscheeks slightly as you slowly slide her hardened cock inside of you. It makes you moan loudly, hands gripping the desk, your breathing coming out in short breaths when you finally settled on her lap with her cock fully inside of you. Yujin bites her lip to suppress any sounds from escaping her mouth, her hands now pushing the exercise in front of you as she pases you a pen.

“Start.”

。。。

You were almost done with the exercise, and you do not know how long it has been, but it definitely felt like hours have passed. You were sure her chair was now ruined considering how wet you were, your juices were dripping down yours and her thighs. Sometimes, when Yujin shifts, it makes you whimper and you try to grind more against her which she stops immediately as her hands holds your hip in place, her breath fanning hotly against the back of your ear where she warns you to try again. Yujin’s voice was low and sultry, she was getting painfully hard by now, with the way your walls flutters around her when she would shift just the slightest, or when she touches you, it was a torture for her too. She really couldn’t wait to ruin you after this.

“I-i’m done Yujin.” You say rather breathlessly, and Yujin looks over your work, her chin on your shoulder, hearing how your breath hitches and your walls fluttering around her again as her front presses against your back. “My good girl, these are all correct now.” She lets out a satisfied sigh, and feels the way your hips move against her lap, it makes her groan, her head against the back of the chair. “F-fuck, you have no idea…how much i want to ruin you now.” Her voice deep and filled with lust, hands gripping your hips, nails slightly piercing your skin as you continue to ride her reverse cowgirl style. “Please…Y-yujin ruin me please.” You took her hands placing them under your shirt hearing her groan.

“Get up.” You were reluctant to do so, but listen to her instructions as you get up, your legs were weak when you try to stand, your hands gripping the edge of the desk for support. You feel her turning you around, her lips on yours almost instantly and you moan softly into the kiss. Your legs wraps around her, pulling her closer to you and her tip accidentally bumps at your clit. It causes you to jolt, you were sensitive from warming her cock for so long and so was she, another groan leaving her lips. Within seconds, she has your back on the sheets, her hands removing her shirt and bra as you did the same to yours. She strokes her now painfully erect cock, pupils blown with lust as she lines herself up against your sopping cunt and you swore that has to be the hottest thing your girlfriend ever did.

“S-so wet for me..fuck.” She pushes herself in almost forcefully, your walls greedily sucking her in as she moves at a feverish speed. It makes you all breathless, eyes rolling from all the pent up teasing earlier. She has your hands above your head, her head diving down to hungrily attack your bossoms with hickies and licks. You moan even louder for her, pulling at your hands weakly which she has them pinned over your head still, your back arches into her touch, the feeling of her tongue rolling over your nipples makes you clench around her even more. “Don’t..don’t s-stop please..!” Your orgasm was approaching with the way her tip hits your sweet spot with each thrust. You could feel her twitching inside of you, knowing she was close as well, her hands finally leaving your wrists, going to your hips as she pulls it higher up against her legs.

The new angle makes your body squirm, eyes pooling with tears from how her tip drags along your sweet spot, and she pistons even faster, mouth agape. “F-fuck, this pussy was made for me.” She speeds up her movements, feeling how your walls closes around her even more, it makes her breathe heavily, as she watches your body react with each of her thrusts. The sight of your breasts jiggling and teary eyes sends her over the edge as she paints your walls white. You come soon after, head tilting back, eyes rolling as your vision turns white, body spasming as you come all over her, screaming her name. She slowly thrust herself this time, prolonging your shared orgasm as her body comes into contact with yours. It makes you whimper, arms around her bringing her closer to you if that was even possible. “I-i can’t stop love, i’m sorry.” She mutters, and before you knew it, she turns your front against the sheets, your back against her front as she has her arms locked over yours, moaning and breathing against your ears as her cock slides back inside your now puckered hole, and you knew that she was not going to stop anytime soon.

This was definitely not just another usual day.

[msschemmenti]

the birthday belle

a/n: it's my birthday <3

” And when I say never, I mean never in my whole twenty-seven years of life have I ever heard something so absurd.” Y/n ranted down the line as she sunk into the center of her bed for the night. JJ and Emily were in New York working another case and all three women found themselves winding down for the night at the same time. 

“Twenty-seven?” Emily questioned curiously. 

“Mmhm, and then she started–” Y/n continued, only for JJ to interrupt again. 

“Baby, you’re not twenty-seven.” 

“Well, I will be in about three hours. I figured I’d just round up for dramatic effect.” 

“Wait, what? Your birthday is tomorrow?” Emily asked in shock, eyes finding JJ’s in the dimly lit hotel room. “And you didn’t tell us?” 

Y/n sighed through the phone, already hearing the tension in the older woman’s voice. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a knot. It’s not a big deal. It’s just another day on the calendar. No need to get riled up.” 

JJ, ignoring everything their girlfriend said, pulled the phone closer to her. “Oh no you don’t. We will not be letting your birthday go by without some sort of celebration. I can’t believe you didn’t say something sooner. We could’ve planned something. Something fun, something that celebrated your life properly.” 

Y/n smiled at the conviction she could hear in the blonde’s voice, “None of that would’ve stopped this New York tourist killer from taking you out of town, though. Listen, it is fine. I figured I wouldn’t make too big a deal this year with all the other big things I’ve had going on this year. Plus besides you two, I don’t really have too many people I’d like to celebrate with. Making a big fuss this year just felt unnecessary.” 

“Well, I think celebrating you is necessary. I’d even venture into mandatory at this point.”

Y/n laughed down the phone sweetly, “Well aren’t you just the sweetest? Tell ya what, we can do dinner when y’all get back. Y’all can celebrate me all you want whenever that is.”

Both Emily and JJ grumbled their agreement but silently vowed to make the next day as special as possible for their girlfriend, whether she wanted them to or not. They just had to. And they enlisted a pro in pulling it all off. Penelope Garcia.

-

It was just after 6 when Y/n’s doorbell sounded throughout her house. It was absolutely unusual for anyone to be at her home this early but she still found herself wandering down the stairs, with a brush in her hands. When she saw no one through the peephole, she opened the door to find a delivery of her favorite breakfast on her doormat. Now her first thought was alarm, someone was dropping food at her house without her knowledge. So she looked up and down the street for any sign of life from the neighboring houses. Before she could truly freak out though, she received a text with a bit of explanation. 

jj: happy birthday baby! breakfast is on me– don’t worry I had pg drop it on her way in this morning. i’ll call you later xx

Y/n felt her heart almost double in size as she munched happily on her breakfast. She hadn’t really thought about her girlfriends still finding ways to spoil her– even out of state. But she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t feeling extremely lucky. 

The next thing that happens is an edible arrangement posed at the front desk of the music department, with her name on it. Miss Jeanette, stood next to the display with a grin and handed over the card attached. 

Happy birthday my darling. I know you’ve always wanted one of these things, so I had to make it happen on your special day. Can’t wait to celebrate you together xx - Em

Oh, to be known is to be loved, right? By this point, Y/n was sure both women were done for the day and she floated through the halls of the university feeling like a princess for the first half of her day. Lunchtime hit and Garcia was blowing her phone up claiming to be outside, waiting to pick her up for a birthday lunch. Y/n let Garcia fawn over her and complain about having to find out about her birthday from JJ and Emily. But they still had a great time, hanging out together. As if the first half of the day wasn’t enough, both women had taken to basically writing Y/n love letters over text at the top of every hour. It was so consistent, Y/n had even asked how they had the time.

jj: knowing you is loving you. every word from your mouth. every quirk of your lips. every moment with you is a gift that we are so honored to receive. 

emily: you are the brightest star in our sky. your voice the sweetest sound to be heard. 

jj: texting you isn’t enough, i need to physically be inside your skin. please and thanks.

y/n: there’s no way either of you have been able to catch a killer, while smooth-talking me all day.

jj: don’t underestimate the power we have

The texts continued, no matter what Y/n replied. And it was like her face had a permanent smile on it for the rest of the day. As she was getting ready to wind down at home, Emily texted with what seemed like their final request for the night. 

emily: sleep at ours tonight? we’ve got one more surprise up our sleeve. 

So at twenty-seven, Y/n found herself plucking pajamas from her FBI girlfriend’s wardrobes with a smitten serene smile. She did her nightly routine and tried diligently to stay awake for further instructions. But just after midnight, she gave up and texted the women a thank you for making her feel so special. It wasn’t long after y/n had closed her eyes for the night that both JJ and Emily stumbled in their front door. They headed upstairs with one person on their minds and there she was snug as a bug in a rug, lying in the middle of their bed with a soft grin on her face. Y/n looked so relaxed and so content that neither of them could bring themselves to wake her up. So they crawled in next to her and cocooned her in their affection. Their birthday belle right where she was supposed to be.

[deadghosy]

I am in desperate need of more chibi!reader.

What if chibi makes mini cakes in their little mini kitchen and decorates them to the characters colors, and possibly flavor preferences?

Thanks if you do this

❤️ anon

AWW THATS SO CUTEEE!!!💗🦆

CUTE HEADCANNNONS ABOUT CHIBI!READER

WARNING: FLUFF💗🦆

You sometimes snuggle with husk as if he was a mother cat as he purrs having his arm over your small chubby body.

Imagine you and Angel having your own poses with Angel. You and Angel definitely have a whole bunch of photos which is so cool.

Imagine you and your bad ASS HOT PINK PRETTY PRINCESS CAR GOING FOR A JOY RIDE! with of course Lucifer beside you as he controls a toy car that has duck designs on it. I mean shittt you guys race as if you are depending your lives on it

Your car broke down…(Angel forgot to change the batteries for you) you sniffled “depressed” until Angel came back to shown you your new HOT GLAMOUR HOT PINK CAR WITH SPARKLES!?

Yeah….you definitely used it to run over someone’s toes as you smirked with your shades on like a badass bitch.

You have an easy bake oven…

NOW CMONNNN YOOU CANT LIE CHIBI! READER BE COOKIN OUT HERE😭

Literally the crew bought you a mini kitchen set and let you decorate it to your [aesthetic] as you smiled having your hands to your hips as you smiled at this.

Vaggie and Charlie sleeping with you beside them like a baby as you twitch 😭ima cry because that’s actually do adorable imaging a baby chibi reader who sleep so cozy to the point you wanna squish their cheeks.

You feed the crew your mini dishes from your mini kitchen which makes them smile at your effort. You accidentally burnt yourself but you huff with a determined squeak as you kept cooking for them.

You were the one who would put bows in alastor’s hair…and Alastor smiled softly at your affection towards him.

A chubby chibi reader who rubs their cheek against the cast’s thumbs with a soft squeak needy for attention for once as they were getting ignored.

A cute headcannon is that, the cast makes a Day schedule who youvwokd be with every week as it’s just fun tk see you come out of the person’s room with a new attitude and clothing choice.

You patted a toy duck thinking it was real as you made a “quack” sound with a squeak as it was heart aching to Lucifer as he grabs where his heart is and recorded the whole thing

You are having a bubble bath tired in a toy tub like I said before as Charlie coos at how cute you are as she scrubs your soft hair

Your favorite cartoon is hello kitty + SpongeBob as it showed how childish you are and were

I headcannon reader to waddle up against to sir Pentious to show how much you love him. That made him tear up a bit as he shows you off to his eggs

You yawn as you snuggle against anything….ANYTHING! You freaking name it-

You definitely get babied like a real baby but you don’t complain as you just be spoiled rotten by affection. They sure damn know

Imagine reader holding a small toy duck as they softly snooze. Like and there is a this ambience music in the background which makes the reader pass out faster.

Alastor has you on his desk as he makes a broadcast as a victim who tried to stomp on you has been murdered…not like you know anyways.

You are definitely the one people can’t leave for a minute as you would piss anyone off in a second. But you are so cute anyone could forgive you.

THATS ALL I HAVE FOR CUTE HCS🦆💗✨

[littlespoonevan]

Would love to hear more about the Miss Congeniality Au!

ahhh miss congeniality au, my beloved!!!! 💖💗💞💕🩷❤️ truly, truly, truly i feel like this au could be so much FUN if i could find the discipline and motivation to just sit down and write it lmao. but i will say i v much enjoyed fitting all the pieces together for this snippet so here's hoping it awakens something in me askdjhf

i hope you like it 🥰

~

Eddie never imagined becoming a special agent. Then again, he never imagined becoming a single dad either.

But FBI work actually keeps him chained to a desk a hell of a lot more than regular police work used to and the pay’s better.

He’s regretting that decision right about now.

“Eddie, it has to be you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, quickening his step even as Chimney continues to keep pace with him.

“It absolutely doesn’t, Chim.”

“The whole office agrees-“

Eddie stops short, whirling around. “Just because the little simulation version of me you drew up on the computer had an eight-pack-“

“My computer does not lie, Diaz-“

“I don’t have time,” Eddie cuts in. “I can’t be away from Chris that long.”

“It’s one week. Less, if you do your job right.”

Eddie makes a face.

It’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. A charity firefighter competition that he really thinks sounds a hell of a lot like a beauty pageant. Sure, there’s obstacle courses and stuff to complete but he’s not sure what a speedo competition has to do with being a competent firefighter. The cause is noble, he guesses, but there has to be a better way to raise money than deciding who’s the most specialist firefighter in all of Los Angeles.

Especially when the host – Captain Bobby Nash – is the target of a bomb threat.

It wouldn’t even have landed on their desk if not for the fact that three people with ties to Bobby Nash and the LAFD had received bombs in the mail over the last two weeks.

Athena thinks their best chance to take down the mail bomber is to have someone on the inside, to infiltrate the competition and investigate the contestants while also being the FBI’s eyes and ears throughout the week.

Hen and Chim, of course, volunteered Eddie for the job.

“I don’t like undercover work.” It’s an oversimplified version of the truth – that Eddie hates having to perform for an extended period of time and that this competition sounds like his own personal version of hell. Also, as much as he knows he’s in good shape, he doesn’t actually want people ogling his body for a week straight.

Chim gives him an incredibly unsympathetic clap on the shoulder. “Just use those big, brown eyes of yours and wow the judges with your salsa skills and no one will be any the wiser.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue back when another voice cuts through their conversation.

“She said yes!”

He and Chimney both look up to find Hen running towards them, a beaming grin on her face. “Athena said yes! Better start practicing your poses, Firefighter Diaz.”

Well, shit.

-

Captain Bobby Nash has got a made-for-TV smile that has Eddie understanding why he got the hosting gig over every other fire captain in LA.

“Special Agent Grant,” he says, shaking Athena’s hand with a warmth to his expression that Eddie doesn’t expect.

Athena clearly doesn’t expect it either because she clears her throat as she pulls her hand back. “Captain Nash. This is Agent Diaz.”

Nash redirects his attention to Eddie, extending his hand once again. “Great to meet you. And please, call me Bobby.”

“You too,” Eddie says, flashing a polite smile and following Athena’s lead to take a seat in front of Bobby’s desk.

“So I take it there’s been some progress in the case?” Bobby asks, settling into his chair.

Athena purses her lips, exchanging a look with Eddie. “Not as much as we’d like. Given that we still don’t have a trace on the letter the bomber sent and the LAFD’s reluctance to cancel the competition, we’ve decided to send one of our agents in undercover.”

Bobby’s eyes immediately flick to Eddie and Eddie feels the ridiculous urge to straighten his posture. “I’m guessing that’s where you come in, Agent Diaz?”

“Not that we want to undermine the integrity of the competition but it will be imperative that Eddie makes it to the final,” Athena says. “It’s the best chance we have of catching the bomber if we can’t determine a suspect before then.”

Bobby leans back in his chair, regarding them both with an unreadable expression. Finally, he cracks a smile. “Well, he certainly looks the part.”

“He gets that a lot,” Athena snorts and Eddie ducks his head to hide the heat in his cheeks. It’s bad enough when it’s Hen and Chim ribbing him; he didn’t actually think Athena ever overheard them.

“Which firehouse is he representing though?” Bobby asks. “All of the contestants have already been chosen.”

Without missing a beat, Athena hands over a file that Eddie knows contains the fake details of his new identity. “Apparently the 133’s entry came down with an awful bout of food poisoning.”

Bobby accepts the manila folder with a faint smirk. “Well, that’s a shame.”

-

“Diaz. Diaz, do you read me? Over.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as he steps onto the bus ready to ship the contestants to the opening luncheon. “Yes, Chim,” he mutters under his breath. “I can hear you; stop yelling.”

“Remember to smile, Eddie.” That’s Hen.

How Athena thought they were the two best suited to oversee this, he’ll never understand.

He scans the length of the bus, looking for an empty seat. The whole place is overrun with burly men in too tight t-shirts talking animatedly to each other. It takes him a second to realise one of the men in question is waving at him.

He’s got curly hair and a golden retriever-esque eagerness to his smile. “Edmundo?” he asks. “From the 133, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and rearranges his face into a smile as he makes his way to the empty seat. Though calling it an empty seat feels generous when the firefighter all but shoves himself against the window to make room.

“How’d you know who I was?” he asks, genuinely curious. They only finalised the details of Eddie’s position in the competition yesterday and they made sure to leave any of his information off the official competition website.

“Oh I did a little deep dive on the other contestants but you were the only one who didn’t have a picture so I figured it had to be you.” He shrugs with an affable charm before offering Eddie a hand. “I’m Evan Buckley, with the 118. Everyone calls me Buck though.”

“He’s cute,” Hen says in his ear.

“Like a puppy,” Chim adds.

Eddie ignores them and shakes his hand. “Uh, you can call me Eddie,” he greets. Changing his last name was necessary; he refuses to go by Edmundo for the next week. It’s only then that he clocks the station number Buck said. “You’re part of Nash’s team.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, beaming with pride. “Bobby’s the best captain ever. You know some of these guys have it out for me because they think he’s gonna play favourites even though he’s not a judge. He’s just the host. But whatever, it’s not a big deal.”

The dejected look that creeps onto Buck’s face suggests it very much is a big deal even if he won’t admit it. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy. The guy seems harmless, even with all the rippling muscles. Then again, he’s not surprised a competition this testosterone-fuelled has people acting territorial.

“They just want an excuse for when you beat them in the first round,” Eddie says, mostly to fill the silence but also to get this Buck guy to stop looking so downtrodden.

He definitely doesn’t expect the way Buck’s whole face lights up in awe.

“You think I’ve got a shot at making it to the finals?”

The earnest hopefulness in Buck’s voice catches Eddie off guard and Hen and Chimney in his ear don’t help.

“Aww Eddie’s making friends!”

“Forget friends! Eddie, he’s cute; keep flirting with him.”

Eddie bites down on the urge to tell them to fuck off and makes himself smile at Buck instead. “’Course you do. Some of these guys are lucky they even made it this far.”

Truthfully, Eddie hasn’t even taken the time to look at anyone else on the bus all that much yet but the words tumble out of his mouth without permission. And in the face of Buck’s delighted grin, he can’t find it in himself to take them back.

“Thanks, man,” Buck says bashfully. “Hey, you have anyone to share a room with at the hotel yet?”

“Please tell me there’s only gonna be one bed,” Hen squawks gleefully in his ear.

“Uh I don’t know. Are they assigned or-?”

“They figured since most of us know each other we could pair up however we want but- um…” Buck trails off, making it clear no one has offered to share with him and well, it seems like he knows a lot about the other contestants. That could be good for Eddie. To get information and close the case. Obviously.

“Yeah, man. We can share.”

“Awesome!” Buck declares, slumping more comfortably in his seat and bumping his shoulder –probably accidentally – against Eddie’s. The bus gets moving then and Eddie takes the opportunity to scope out some of the other contestants.

It’s unlikely their suspect is another firefighter but not impossible.

“So how come I’ve never seen you at a scene before?”

Eddie blinks, redirecting his attention to Buck who’s looking at him curiously.

“Oh uh, I just transferred in the last couple of months.”

“From where?” Buck’s expression doesn’t look suspicious and Eddie has to remind himself not every conversation with a stranger needs to be an interrogation.

“Um, El Paso,” he says, immediately cringing on the inside. This man does not need to know any of his real life personal details.

But Buck only smiles again. “Cool. I’ll have to look out for you on calls from now on.”

And it’s not said flirtatiously or anything like that but Buck looks bashful again and Chimney is cackling his ear about how, “Eddie’s got a fan,” and Eddie’s stomach does a strange, traitorous flip.

But this is fine.

Everything is fine.

It’s just-

It’s going to be a long week.

-

[torturedblue]

There are so many fun Disaster Twins parallels I caught the last time I binged Rise

I’m mainly going to start with lines before I get into some deeper stuff in part two, but as far as I’ve seen this pair seems to have the most parallels and I love it

Both the sillies have a line about sounding naturally sarcastic: “And I know everything I say sounds sarcastic, but I’m being completely genuine… This time.”

“Oh sure, let me just load my Tap Into Every Security Camera in New York app! I’m sorry if that sounded like sarcasm it wasn’t I am in.”

They both land on Warren in his first episode 😂

These sillies in Bug Busters:

Also LOOK at these guys in their matching cutesy pajamas

Donnie teasing his brothers and hitting them with the tennis balls all smug in Smart Lair feels very Leo of him

Leo being the naysayer of the group in The Gumbus and constantly insisting there has to be some kind of logical/scientific explanation is very Donnie of him

“There has to be a simple answer. Earthquake, magnets, giant prankster mice. There’s no such thing as ghosts!” “A model train. Simple answer.” “Aha! Right? The simple answer!”

Donnie has a funny line about Dragons (and their teeth) not existing, both these moments being ironic since discovering yokai, the Hidden City and the whole mystics world makes dragons and ghosts not just possible, but proven real

Their iconic weird showing-off-clothes poses in Purple Jacket and Late Fee

These lines:

“Can’t we get new brothers?!”

“We have to go back for our brothers! Or are you gonna replace them, too?!”

“Guh-ee…”

They are also the only two characters with lines mentioning they think Splinter would’ve been cooler specifically as a tiger 😂 While I love the Eric Bauza/Tigerclaw references to ‘12, otherwise the comments are rather random other than saying tigers are cooler than rats. It made me realize how much they really do think alike. “You’re just a rat, we need a tiger.” “Yeah sure you’re a rat and it probably would’ve been cooler if you were like a tiger or something.”

More similar lines when they both break the fourth wall: “One season later and I still have full battery!” “If this isn’t the poster shot, someone’s getting fired.”

Leo’s chosen last words: “With my last breath I told you sooooo!”

Donnie’s chosen last words: “At least I shall perish knowing I was the better brother.” (a lie)

I believe they’re also the only ones to call Splinter Papa whereas Raph and Mikey use ‘Pops’ more

And last but not least, their shared aversion to Staten Island

Bottom line, the rottmnt writers practically made their twinship canon without realizing it sooo it’s pretty much undeniable now 😊

[ronearoundblindly]

hey! fic title: we want what we can’t have

Hmmmm, this makes me think of like a parasocial online relationship, and you know, if it's online, I'm going with our boi, Jakey... From this ask game.

Jake Jensen x influencer!single mom!reader

Not really any warnings except Jake is a liarliarpantsonfire.

It started over at his sister's house. His niece loves to watch DIY videos on Youtube, and you're pretty big with kid-friendly projects that you and your daughter do on camera.

At first, Jake is so focused on not spilling a full jar of glitter across the table and carpet that he didn't notice you were very easy on the eyes, he didn't pick up on the slightly adult, double-entendres you laced in, and he didn't appreciate the stare-at-the-lens moments reminiscent of Jim from The Office.

By the third video though, he absolutely sees the appeal...even if it's not for the same reasons as his family. He's crushing hard, fast, and that was before he found your Twitch stream!

Jake could not care less if you're good at the games because he loves to hear your unhinged laugh when something goes awry. Pretty quickly he finds himself playing your videos while gaming himself and responding to questions you throw out into the void of the internet. No, you can't listen or answer, but IRL social interaction is not his specialty. He's enjoying living vicariously through this stuff.

He actually comments sometimes, not often though since he can see how inappropriate some guys (and girls) get with you in the stream. He knows he's too awkward to make a great impression in the midst of all that, so he keeps it light.

Jake is, however, in complete denial of how bad his crush on you is getting over the many, many months he dives deeper into your 'fandom.'

Once, when he found himself yet again watching a craft video with his niece, he responded without thinking. They were on the porch, squinting at a propped up tablet in the sun, and he quickly typed "me and my girl are loving this!"

Harmless enough, right? Sure, but then he got a ping back.

Be sure to send me a pic of the finished product.

So he did. He laid the two papers beside each other on the glass tabletop and snapped a shot.

😍 Whose is whose, I wonder...

So Jake had his niece hold up hers as he posed with his, ballcap, glasses, graphic-T, and all.

Someone else answered--oh man, is dad single???? --but you liked that comment and responded with a simple "my thoughts exactly 🤭."

He's in too deep now; he wants to talk to you. Jake types those fateful two words.

He is.

It's not strictly a lie, but he in no way corrects the mistaken interpretation. He cannot give up the opportunity.

So he takes some more goofy pictures in front of the wall of art in his niece's room, and you gush about how cute it (and he) is, noting the soccer trophies on one shelf.

Jake proudly tells you all about her many successes in private messages on Twitch [idk how twitch works just go with it if that's wrong], and you mention recognizing his username. There isn't a chance in hell he's letting go now. Guess he's a dad. Cool. He will literally do whatever you vaguely insinuate you want him to do, be whoever you seem to want him to be, anything.

It's still a lie though, and Jake even goes so far as to refer to his niece specifically as 'his daughter.' He's outright lying now, and he doesn't care. He keeps lying, and it spreads to lying to his sister once you announce a summer series of videos--you're taking your daughter to all the largest play grounds in the nearby states, one of which is 30 miles from his sister's place.

Jake floats the idea of taking his niece on this very specific day, says it can't be any other day, and fibs that it's because he'll be gone for work before and after. He messages you the good news that you can meet...if you're okay with that, and he's thrilled when you excitedly announce the girls can meet. Everyone will have so much fun; he's counting on it. Only thing Jake doesn't do is lie to his niece because he knows if he does she will immediately call bullshit and blurt out the truth.

So she's allowed to say 'Jake' or 'Jakey' but he asks her not to call him 'uncle.'

The whole day goes flawlessly, and only like 35% of what he says is effected by dishonesty. He is away a lot for work. He does wish he got more time with, uh, the girl over there playing with your daughter. That girl's mom is absolutely wonderful and they used to live together, technically, a long time ago.

When his niece calls him 'Jakey' in front of you, it's pretty easy to brush off. He's right, there is that age where kids rebel that way, and you remember when your daughter threw her first "no, mother" at you in defiance.

He leaves with your cell number and a long, lingering hug.

Jake's on cloud nine, as is his niece, so he thinks he's gotten away with it, texting with you frequently until days later when he's already deployed with Clay and the team to the other side of the Earth.

Why would my kid be saying that you aren't Cheeky's dad??? She said you STOLE HER FOR THE DAY. Jake, that is your real daughter, right? This is a joke, yeah? Answer me! Did you lie to us?!

No matter what he says, it's over though. He doesn't know how it came up, and his niece did not call him her uncle. Instead, he finds out she mentioned "Jake's not my real father but my mom loves him" which is doubly terrible. You're convinced she's his step kid, and Jake was somehow cheating by talking to you. Admitting he lied but not that bad doesn't help.

All conversation ends when you tell him to lose your number.

How could he possibly fix this?

⬆️⬆️⬆️ how i imagine y'all are about to come at me ⬆️⬆️⬆️

[Main Masterlist; Fic Title Only Asks; Jake Jensen Masterlist]

[magicalmutants]

II.

Warnings: none specifically, other than angst and some swearing. general warnings in the series masterlist!

A/N: last of the exposition chapters! Happy Sunday, my loves <3

prev.

The summer heat isn’t as suffocating and clinging anymore. If you open your window at night, you can feel the cool late September breeze that teases the imminent arrival of autumn.

Your mom doesn’t ask about Suguru like she did for the first few weeks after he had gone, and you don’t bring him up either. It’s easier this way.

You fill your days with routine: school, homework, part-time shifts at the little convenience store nearby. You pretend you’re too busy to think about the part of you that seems to be missing. About him.

But then sometimes, you’re just doing homework and playing an album that reminds you a little too much of him and your phone rings, as if he can sense it.

Incoming call: Snake Boy 🐍

“You’re late,” you say, skipping the hello.

Suguru chuckles, “for what?”

“You said you’d call this weekend,” you smile at the sound of his laugh, “it’s Tuesday.”

“Oh. Right,” a pause, “my bad.”

You wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.

“So?” You prompt, “how’s uni?”

“Oh, you know,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “classes, questionable decisions, the usual. Satoru’s a handful, but I think you’d really like him. Tokyo’s sick. You should come visit.”

You press the phone tighter to your ear. You’ve really missed his voice,“Yeah?”

“He wants me to rush this frat with him— Satoru, I mean,” Suguru continues. “They throw these crazy parties — and I mean like, completely insane.”

You laugh, it doesn’t feel forced, “you are so not a frat guy.”

He laughs too, “that’s what I said.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes the bitterness that lingers in your chest fester a little bit. There’s no real conviction. Like maybe he’s not so sure anymore.

You frown, “I can’t really picture you shotgunning beers and wearing khakis.”

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” he jokes.

You’re not sure why it matters to you so much, but you want to believe he’s kidding.

He calls again a week later, voice buzzing with excitement about some house party he and Satoru are going to, and it’s the first time you feel like you’re listening to a stranger.

“Sounds like you’re forgetting about me,” you joke, trying to keep the insecurity out of your voice.

“I could never do that,” his voice softens. “You miss me?”

“Maybe.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m only kidding. Mostly.”

He doesn’t ask about home anymore. You’re not really sure if you want him to.

“Hey, Suguru?”

“Yeah?”

Ask him if he’s coming home for Christmas. Tell him he can stay with you. Your parents would say yes. Tell him you miss him. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him.

“Nothing, I gotta go. Have fun at the party.”

₊˚⊹ ࿔

October comes and goes, the air has more of a bite to it now and you keep the window to your bedroom firmly shut during the night. You’re staring at the pictures on his Instagram again, at the photos he posted two weeks ago. He’s wearing some dumb Halloween costume and posing with a guy he’s tagged as Satoru Gojo, as well as a bunch of other people whose names and faces you don’t recognize.

Incoming call: Snake Boy 🐍

You stare, unmoving.

Snake Boy 🐍: (1) missed call

Snake Boy 🐍: hey, you busy?

You begin typing by force of habit and he immediately calls back.

“Hello?”

You never call first anymore,” He sounds a little hurt.

You put the phone on speaker, placing it on your bed and begin to tug at a loose thread on the hoodie you’re wearing. His hoodie. It doesn’t smell like him anymore.

“Didn’t know I was supposed to. Is it a competition?” It’s meant to be a joke, but neither of you laugh.

A pause. Then, quieter, “are you mad at me?”

You hate how small his voice sounds when he says it. You hate that you’re doing this to him, but you don’t know how to fix it, how to stop.

“Of course not,” you say. “Just been busy. Senior year, you know?”

It’s a lie. He knows it. You know he knows it.

Liar. You’re waiting for his voice to ring out.

But he doesn’t call you on it, and for some reason, that makes your chest ache even more.

The silence stretches.

Eventually, Suguru exhales. “Okay. I just… wanted to check in.”

You swallow, looking away from the phone. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You say your goodbyes. You hang up first.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

The screen goes dark, but he’s still holding the phone to his ear.

Suguru finally pulls it away, staring at the screen for a second before letting it fall back onto his desk. He leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

You were acting different. Again.

It was subtle—just little things. The slight delay before you answered, the fact that he’s pretty sure you ignored his first call. The way your voice felt distant, even though you were right there in his ear.

He doesn’t know what he expected. He knew things were weird. Knew you had been slipping away, one unanswered text at a time.

But this was the first time it had felt real.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

You lay on your bed, cheek pressed against your pillow, Suguru could feel you watching as he stared up at the ceiling. The low hum of music filled the room, soft and familiar, the same songs you’d been playing for years.

“You said you were taking a gap year,” you murmured, reaching out to toy with one of his soft, raven strands of hair, gently wrapping it around your finger.

He exhaled, “I know.”

“So what changed?”

He hesitated, “I just… I don’t want to wait anymore. I feel like I should take the chance, since I got in.”

“Why?” He could hear the frown in your voice.

He didn’t answer right away. Just tapped his fingers against his stomach, slow and restless.

“I want to get out of here,” his voice was quiet, but sure, “get away from my parents. Start over somewhere else, you know?”

You scooted closer to him. He knew you understood, probably more than anyone. You’d seen the way his mother’s disappointment latched onto him like a shadow, a curse. You noticed the way his father barely looked at him anymore, except to shout at him.

You rested your forehead against his shoulder, “I get it.”

“You’re not mad?” Suguru turned his head, finally looking at you.

You huffed a small laugh, and gave his hair a playful tug. “I mean, a little. But not really.”

A beat.

Then you nudged his side, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“For ditching you?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“For getting in!” You laughed before whacking his arm, “for knowing what you want.”

He let out a breath, his body relaxing just a little, “thanks.”

You sighed, pressing your face into his shirt for a second. “I’m gonna miss you, though.”

Suguru smiled, bumping his arm against yours. “You won’t even have time to.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll come back every weekend,” he said easily, “and you can come stay with me whenever you want.”

“You promise?”

Suguru made a gun with his hands and pointed it at you, “Swear on my life.” He smiled.

You rolled your eyes but smiled and returned the gesture.

The song changed. Suguru groaned. “Oh my God, this one again?”

You smacked his arm again, “shut up. It’s good.”

He laughed, and you grinned, turning the volume up.

August felt so far away.

It would be okay.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

Across the room, Satoru glances up from his textbook, “you good?”

Suguru forces a shrug, “yeah.”

Satoru eyes him, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “That the same girl?”

Suguru sighs, picking up his phone again, thumbing over the screen. Your contact stares back at him.

Angel.

His stomach churns.

Satoru watches him for a second longer, then turns back to his textbook. “Women, amirite?”

Suguru doesn’t answer. You’re not just some woman, but these days, the word friend feels like a lie too.

So he just sits there, phone in his hand, the call already over.

And for the first time, he wonders if you even want him to call again.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

The cold is relentless now. The streets are lined with dirty slush, the sky is dull and heavy, and the wind cuts straight through your jacket when you walk home from work. Christmas had come and gone. Then New Year’s. He didn’t come home. Does he still even consider this place home?

Everything feels slow. Unmoving.

At dinner, your parents talk about planning a trip for your spring break. Maybe visiting family, maybe a weekend somewhere warmer. You nod through the conversation, barely listening.

You don’t know why you check your phone so often. Suguru rarely texts anymore, and when he does, it’s short. Casual. The way you’d talk to someone when you had nothing real left to say.

Still, you check.

You’re lying on your bed, mindlessly scrolling through his page. He hasn’t posted since New Year’s and you’ve basically memorized the photo carousel at this point. Your fingers seem to move of their own accord as you tap through to Satoru’s profile. It’s public. You know this.

His profile picture has a little ring around it. You turn on airplane mode and click it to view the story.

It’s blurry and overexposed from the flash. It’s a shot of a group of guys, most of their faces familiar to you at this point. They’re standing on the frat house’s balcony, drinks in hand, laughing. Suguru is in the middle, hood pushed up, his head thrown back mid-laugh. The caption says “Bali for spring break? lfgggg.”

You stare at the screen, finger pressed on the photo to keep the story in place.

You shouldn’t be surprised. He had mentioned something about a trip once, weeks ago, but you hadn’t thought much of it. He never asked if you wanted to visit anymore. Never asked what you were doing.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but your chest still clenches painfully and you can almost feel the bile-like bitterness creep up your throat.

You exit the app and turn airplane mode off. Your phone buzzes.

Snake Boy 🐍: you still awake?

You plug in your phone and roll over, pulling your hood up over your head.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

“Yo, you in?”

Suguru glances up from his phone. Satoru is watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“In what?”

“The trip to Bali for spring break? I’m calling to book the hotel and the jet tonight, I just gotta let my dad know numbers.”

Suguru hesitates. He wants to text you, see what your plans are, see if you want him to come home— or better— if you want to come to Tokyo. He knows he missed Christmas. He feels shit about it, but you barely answer these days. He tells himself you won’t care.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m in.”

Satoru grins, “My man!” He claps him on the back, “that’s what I’m talking about!”

Suguru forces a smile, but when he glances at his phone again, something unsettles him.

Me: you still awake?

The message sits there, unanswered. He watches the screen, waiting for the typing bubble to appear.

It never does anymore. Even though he’s surrounded by people, laughing, planning, moving on, he’s never felt more stuck.

The sourness of your rejection makes his throat hurt. It reminds him of angry words and stinging cheeks. It makes him feel sick.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

“How do you like it?” The tattoo artist is sweet. She helps you to the mirror with the best lighting as your eyes take in the raised skin of your ribs and the little red snake that’s made a home there.

A smile tugs at your lips, “I love it,” you say. And you mean it.

“Cool, but you have to promise you won’t get a tattoo without me! You have to wait until I’m 18, too!”

“Okay, fine. The moment you’re 18, we’ll go together and get matching ones. Deal?”

“Ew no, not matching ones! But yeah, whatever. Deal! And we can’t tell each other what they are beforehand! It has to be a surprise!”

You’re not really sure why you got the snake. Maybe it was your way of telling him ‘fuck you.’ You kept your end of the bargain and you knew for a fact he definitely wouldn’t keep his. Hell, he hadn’t even talked to you since January. Being proven right gives you a twisted sense of satisfaction. You hadn’t forgotten about him. You hadn’t left him behind. See? I’m the better friend. I never forgot about you, not for a second. I said I’d never leave you and I didn’t.

You put your shirt back on and pay for the tattoo, but not before asking the artist to take a photo. You’re covering your the side of your left breast with your hand and showing off the shiny plastic over the tiny red snake. You consider sending it to him. You don’t.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

“Alright, let’s see it,” Satoru tosses his phone onto his bed when Suguru walks into their shared dorm.

He grins and gingerly lifts his shirt over his head, revealing the dragon made of black, minimalist line work that winds along his spine.

Satoru whistles, “damn, Player! Lookin seexxxyyy!” He waggles his eyebrows. “You’ve got the mysterious bad boy thing locked down!”

Suguru huffs a laugh, “that’s not why I got it.”

“Sure, man, sureeeee. About to issue a campus wide PSA to keep your girls inside today.”

Suguru rolls his eyes as he lets his shirt fall back down.

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Guess!”

“Uhh… like a bear or something? Like Watermelon Lady?”

“Nope! A dragon!”

“Dragons aren’t real!”

“They are so! How would you know anyway? You’re just a stinky boy.”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“Well you’ve never seen a dinosaur either, but you believe in those!”

“I guess…”

Suguru smiles to himself. He wonders if you remembered the silly deal. He pulls out his phone and contemplates the video call button. He clicks voice call instead.

₊˚⊹ ࿔

The April breeze drifts in through your window and tickles your cheek as you stare at the envelope that has your name written on it in neat, black letters. You’ve been sitting at your desk and staring at it ever since your mother handed it to you when you got home from the tattoo studio.

You don’t know why you can’t bring yourself to open it. You had other offers already, schools in different parts of the country— hell, even a school abroad. This one is the better school for my degree, though. You know that’s not the real reason you can’t bring yourself to tear it open.

You didn’t expect the call, not really. You feel something when you see his name on your screen, but you can’t tell whether that’s good or bad anymore.

“Hello?”

“Happy birthday, Angel.”

Tears spring to your eyes immediately at the sound of his voice. Your nails scratch absently at your desk. You weren’t sure whether he’d remember. You immediately feel bad for thinking that. Of course he’d remember, he’d never forgotten. Not once.

Thanks,” you murmur, softly.

The conversation starts carefully, heavy with words neither of you are saying. It feels like you’re relearning the steps to an intricate dance that used to come to you like second nature. It never used to be quite this difficult to feel like he loved you.

He asks about home, you ask about school. He tells you about a trip he and Satoru are planning, and you pretend it doesn’t sting that he doesn’t ask if you want to come.

And then, somewhere in the middle of the quiet, it happens. Something shifts and the choreography is forgotten.

“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever,” Suguru says, trying to keep his voice light. “You’ve been totally MIA.”

Your jaw immediately clenches, “yeah? Back atcha,” it sounds sharper than you’d like.

He pauses. You hear a door open and close.

“I call,” he says finally.

“Not that much,” the words are out before you can stop them.

“Jesus,” he says your name right after and he’s never sounded quite this exasperated when he’s said it before.

a beat of silence, and when he speaks again, his voice is strained, “you ignore me.”

Your heart pounds and the room suddenly feels too hot. You scratch slightly harder at your desk, “I’ve been busy.”

Suguru lets out a humorless laugh. “Right. Busy.”

Liar.

He doesn’t say it, not anymore.

Something about his tone makes your blood simmer. You know you’re being unfair, this isn’t about him, not really. But the anger that you’ve been trying to contain for years is already pressing against your ribs, hot and hungry and desperate for somewhere to go.

“You’re the one who left,” you snap. Your cheeks flush and you immediately regret it.

(Wood splinters.)

The line goes quiet and for a second, you thinks he’s going to let it slide, like he always does when you lash out.

But then he exhales, and there’s something different in it this time—something tired.

“Are you serious?” His voice is low.

No. No I’m not, I’m sorry. I just miss you so fucking much. Everything reminds me of you and I don’t know how to make a place for myself in this town without you by my side. I don’t know what to do with myself, I feel like I’m in limbo and that you’re moving on and making a life for yourself that doesn’t have me in it. I wish you’d come home. Fuck your parents, come stay with me. They can’t have tainted everything about this place for you, right? I wish it could go back to how it was. I wish I was 15 and sitting on the roof with you. I wish I was 8 and playing in the pond. I wish I was 17 and in your bed.

You don’t answer.

He says your name, and for the first time ever you hate the way it sounds coming from his lips. “I have tried.” His voice rises slightly in frustration. In something raw. “I call. I text. I try to talk to you, and all you ever do is push me away.”

Well then try harder! You said you’d be home every weekend. You never came to check on me, not even once!

The words bunch up in your throat. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he cuts you off and there’s an edge in his voice that’s he’s never used with you. “And you know what? For someone who’s so scared of looking clingy and needy, you have a really bad habit of wanting people to beg for your attention.”

(Iron rots.)

Your nails still against the desk. You suck in a sharp breath, stunned.

Suguru lets out an exhale, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but it wavers at the edges.

“I get it, okay? I know why you do it. But I never left you, not like that. You made me leave.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. You want to argue, to tell him it’s not fair.

You’re too old to be throwing tantrums, honey.

You’d spent so much time testing him, pulling away to see if he’d chase after you, tell you he loved you. At some point, you’d forgotten to keep checking if he was still behind you.

Now you weren’t sure he was.

“I don’t—” your voice catches, and you shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he says gently. And somehow, that makes it worse.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

Say something. Say something, you idiot. Cry, for fuck’s sake. DO SOMETHING. Don’t let him hang up.

Finally, Suguru sighs, “Happy birthday,” there’s no warmth when he says your name.

You barely have time to process it before the call disconnects.

And just like that, he’s gone.

You sit there, the phone still held against your ear. You swallow. You reach for the envelope and tear it open.

Tokyo University is very pleased to accept—

A tear falls on the letter.

You stop reading.

[pearlfeline]

a peter parker halloween

peter parker x spider!fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i quite like this actually lol this is the first thing i’ve written where i think i ended things quite organically however since i like it so much please let me know if you’d like a part two because i’m willing to try but also would like some ideas! thanks for reading! happy halloween!!

Like many, Peter enjoys Halloween. The problem is, Spider-Man does not. He liked it at first. All the cute kids dressing as him and how proud it made him. Nowadays, his costume is so mass produced that there’s people in the subway wearing his face with no pants on.

Patrolling on Halloween kind of felt like he was being mocked. Also wearing what he would consider his uniform on a day where he’s supposed to literally wear anything else wasn’t as exciting.

Peter’s schedule was always scattered but never to his disadvantage. He could afford to be spontaneous by getting slammed by a bus and make it to class in twenty minutes.

This Halloween night, he had gotten his classes out of the way, finished his extra-curriculars, and submitted all his homework right before it was time for his nightly sweep across New York.

Peter reached his front door, weakly shoving his key in spots that weren’t the keyhole.

You hear his keys jingle and rush to the door, unlocking it yourself.

“There he is!” You teased. “Happy Halloween! Who are you dressed as? Percy Jackson?”

Peter smiles tiredly. “Thanks for cleaning my room but you really didn’t have to.”

“Well it would've been mostly for May, considering she’s picked up after you for years.”

Peter sheepishly picks up his backpack that he tossed on the floor.

He notices you brought your Adventure Time blanket and draped it over the couch. There was fresh popcorn and you left your stuffed turtle posed to look like he was eating from the bowl.

“What’s this stuff?” Peter didn’t wait for a response but rather walked to his room to suit up for the night.

You waited for him to come back to the living room before giving him an answer.

“It’s a set up. For a lazy Halloween night in watching scary movies.”

“Lucky you.” He chuckled.

“No. Lucky you.” You corrected, grabbing his suit from over his shoulder.

“Since I know how you usually get worried on Halloween because people like to be irresponsible and sometimes just plain evil, I thought maybe I could give you the night off.” You tug on the collar on your shirt, exposing your suit underneath.

Peter gives you an incredulous look.

“Oh and the room cleaning thing wasn’t real I hope you know. White lie.” You added.

“..Yeah it’s still kinda messy in there.” Peter scratched the back of his neck.

“Understatement of the year.” You mumbled.

“Y/N.. I can’t just let you go do that alone if anything I’ll come with you.” Peter reaches for his mask in your hand.

You groaned.

“Stop being selfless just for tonight.” You pleaded with your eyes. “I can handle this! I’m just as cool and possibly cooler than you!”

“Fine.” Peter hangs his head and made his way to the couch.

“Hell yeah. Okay, I left a sandwich in the fridge that I picked up before I got here. Soooo have fun with that and enjoy your movie.” You pull off your shirt and pants and shoved them in your bag.

Peter gives an appreciative smile, watching you pull your mask over your face and leap out of his fire escape.

What you did was a very sweet thing. Peter was finally able to do something Halloweeny on Halloween. He picked out a few movies to watch in order, but two movies in he was hyper aware he was alone in a dark apartment. Excluding the stuffed turtle he was talking to.

“The CGI sucks.” He muttered, squishing the turtle close to his face, his eyes locked onto the screen.

What if he saw a scary figure in the dark? And if he got up to get the light would it move and attack him? Would he see something he doesn’t want to?

He peered over the couch to stare at the darkness in every corner of the dimly lit living room.

Peter cautiously paused the movie and quickly climbed onto the wall, scattering to the light switch before flicking it on.

He landed back on his feet and still felt upset.

Not only was being alone scary but even if it wasn’t it was just sad. He could’ve complained about the bad CGI to you instead of that little turtle.

You handled your patrol pretty well. Not much was happening except one little kid got separated from his group and didn’t want to walk back home alone. He gave you a piece of candy as a thank you.

As you sat on the edge of a building, you took a bite of your sandwich you packed for the night, watching the busy streets below.

Swoosh. A figure lands behind you and sets your stuffed turtle next to you.

“Timmy? Peter why are you here?” You were muffled by bread in your mouth.

Peter sat beside you and unwrapped his sandwich.

You tuck the turtle in your arms so he doesn’t fall off the ledge and give Peter a look.

“It’s… lonely back there. Plus, I got all the Halloween celebration I needed. I’m ready to get back at it now.”

You stare at Peter with a suspicious expression.

“You can just say the movie scared you.” You took another bite and swung your feet.

“C’mon can’t I just help you? I thought I was selfless?” He smirked proudly.

“You would never leave Timmy Turtle to fend for himself in a paranormal situation! You brought him because you’re scared of the monsters!” You pointed an accusing finger at him.

Peter lifts his mask up half way, taking a bite of his sandwich to avoid confrontation.

“It wasn’t a monster it was a spirit out for revenge.” He sighed.

“Mhm.” You rolled your eyes.

“Busy night?” He asked.

You shake your head. “Oh, but this kid gave me a KitKat.” You dig in your bag to find it.

“Dessert.” You tap it on your temple like you were being clever.

Eventually, you both finish your sandwiches and split the chocolate.

“Is this gonna be a lesson later about how I don’t need to patrol every Halloween night like this?”Peter crosses his legs and accepts his fate.

You shake your head. “No. I mean, you shouldn’t be overworking yourself like that. But, if no one was here tonight, that kid would be going home alone and probably super scared.”

“And that’s the best case scenario, you never know what’ll happen.” You added.

You jokingly punch Peter in the in the shoulder. “You’re a hero Peter. I just thought you needed some rest.”

“Thanks Y/N.” He chomps on his half of the KitKat and leans back, the palms of his hands supporting his weight.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“I should let you go out more often. It’s not that I don’t trust you I just…” Peter trailed off.

“I don’t want you to get hurt is all.” Peter turns to you.

You shrug. “That’s part of the job. But yeah I understand.”

“Though, I’m not opposed to helping you out more. The kid that I helped today called me spider sidekick.”

Peter snorts. “He’s not far off.” Peter pretends to stretch and flexes his muscles very unsubtly.

“Uh, I prefer apprentice and hopefully later on, partner.” You regret your choice of words as soon as ‘partner’ came out of your mouth.

Peter’s grin twitches a little, giving a small opened mouth smile that screamed “No, it’s okay I know what you meant. Don’t be embarrassed. Let’s pretend that never happened!”

Instead, he gives a small laugh.

“You’re already a great partner.”

You give Peter a short glance. That damn mask. What does that mean? Those dumb bug eyes were unreadable. The only thing you could see was his smile.

“A-Am I getting promoted?” You joked.

Peter takes his mask off. There they are. His eyes.

Were you crazy or was he being really forward all of the sudden?

“Truthfully Y/N, you’ve proven yourself a long time ago. You’re just as selfless as you think I am. I just needed to make sure… Even if that meant stalling the inevitable.” Peter takes a dig at himself.

“You’re pretty much faster than me at this rate, but stronger? Eh, I dunno.” He teases.

“I’m sorry I was being stubborn. You’ve been a partner for a long time. Training is officially over since tonight.”

Your heart sinks a little. Of course. He was just talking about work. Peter never flirts with you, he’s never done that before. Plus, this is a serious thing it’s never about flirting.

“Thanks Peter. You’re a real good mentor.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you’d be more excited.”

“No! No. I am excited it’s just.. It’s nice to hear you care about my safety and all that. Nice that you trust me with sharing this… duty.” You clear your throat.

Peter nods, satisfied.

“It’s hard.” He repositions to sit crisscrossed.

“But I know you can do it. And… sorry for making you go out here when it’s nothing happened. I swear I trust you to do the crazy dangerous things too.”

You nodded. “I know. But you didn’t make me do anything. This was just a favor I wanted to do for you.”

“Happy Halloween.” You smiled.

“Happy Halloween Y/N.” Peter returns the smile. He knew this whole thing was a lot for you to adjust to. The silence he created was nice. Not awkward like it used to be. He watched as you curiously peer over the busy street in fascination. He thinks to himself that every night is going to be like this for you from now on. Like it was for him. Maybe the company would do him some good.

[katsu28]

hiii request for jamie tartt here🫡 i loved ur recent fic sm!!! could you maybe do the acacia flower or sunflower prompt? in my head i see hiding their relationship bc reader is a teammates sibling, but oopsie someone got heart eyes and started rambling haha

or literally anything else is fine too if this doesn’t strike your fancy lol<3 tysm!!!

hello!! i loved this so much, u are a gem for requesting it <3

acacia: a hidden relationship + sunflower: drunken rambling about their adoration, jamie tartt x kent!reader (no physical descriptors so imagine whatever sibling type u want!), 2k

“Are you sure we can’t tell him about us?” Jamie’s voice from where he was fixing his hair in the mirror pulled you away from your book and you glanced over at him. 

This was a question he posed to you all the time, and every single time, your answer was the same—though getting more creative with the details with every occurance. 

“Do you want my brother to gouge your eyeballs out? Cut off your dick? Possibly murder you?” 

Jamie paled, freezing in place. “Not particularly.” 

“Then no, we can’t tell Roy we’re seeing each other.” You picked up your book again, ready to resume your reading, but Jamie let out a noise resembling that of a kicked puppy’s whine. His shoulders slumped and he trudged over to you, throwing himself down on the bed in front of your crossed legs. 

Setting your book aside for good this time, you watched him make himself comfortable with his head in your lap, cheek pressed against your thigh as he looked up at you with the puppy dog eyes to match his previous whine. 

“I hate all the secrets. I have to lie to him, straight to his scary face, every fuckin’ day. D’you know how stressful that is? How stressed I am?” He huffed. You bumped your knuckles against his chin affectionately.

It wasn’t fair, Jamie having to face Roy and lie everyday when you had to do it a tad less often, but it was a necessary evil. One day, you’d tell your brother, but first you had to figure out how. 

This, among other reasons, were the downsides to being in a secret relationship with Jamie. There were tons of upsides too, no doubt about it. 

You had the privilege of seeing a softer, sweeter side of him that was reserved only for you, but you couldn’t go out in public with him. Nights in were your favorite dates, but sometimes you wanted to go to a fancy restaurant and eat expensive food and share a dessert with your boyfriend without needing to worry about the tabloids having a field day of it all. 

You could already see the headlines if the press ever caught wind of your relationship—AFC Ricmond Star Jamie Tartt Bags Manager Roy Kent’s Sister. They’d stir shit up, claim that Jamie was only with you because your brother was in a position of power over him and who knows what else. 

Most of all, you certainly couldn’t let Roy find out you were seeing one of his players, especially not Jamie fucking Tartt. They were friends now, but he’d always been overly protective of his sisters ever since you were all kids. He’d throw a fit and probably kill Jamie, then you. Well, he probably wouldn’t go that far, but you’d definitely be on his bad side until he got over himself. And you loved your brother to death, but he was a dickhead sometimes. 

“I’m gonna get early wrinkles, love. You don’t want me to have those, do ya?” 

“I think you’d look adorable with wrinkles. Like a cute little old man.” You dotted a kiss to his forehead, attempting to smooth out the crinkle between his eyebrows with your thumb. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It’s a bit funny.” 

“Right, since you obviously don’t appreciate my problems, I’m off.” Jamie heaved himself off the bed, forcing out a rather overexaggerated sigh. You smiled innocently at him and he rolled his eyes, his own soft smile still on his face. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before heading for the door. “Dunno when I’ll be back but don’t wait up for me, yeah?” 

“Have fun, my love. I’ll just be here, thinking about you with wrinkles.” 

“Still not funny!” 

The Greyhounds were out in full swing tonight. Colin had somehow managed to book an entire pub for a whole night so they could drink and have a good time without being swarmed by the press vying for any morsel of gossip about one of the best up and coming Premier League clubs. Good friends, good food, even better beer—what more could anyone ask for? 

Jamie had been taking full advantage of it. That, paired with the fact that he no longer had to follow that god awful diet that deprived him of his beloved ice cold beverage, had led him to where he was right now, leaning heavily against the bar, drunk off his ass due to some sort of drinking game Jan Maas had insisted on teaching him. 

See, tipsy Jamie was fun. Very generous, would offer to buy a round or two, good for a few funny stories the next day. Absolutely pissed Jamie was a textbook oversharer. He didn’t make much sense, so everyone just mumbled a ‘very cool, mate!’ or something of the sort, made sure he didn’t topple over—those kinds of things. 

Roy was nursing his own beer next to Jamie tonight, half-listening in contained amusement as the Mancunian babbled on and on about someone. Who the fuck it was, Roy had no idea, but it was good entertainment and had soon garnered the attention of the rest of the team. Maybe this could be another one of those funny stories they could joke about in the locker room tomorrow. 

“She don’t look anythin’ like you, thank god. Imagine—imagine that! A lady Roy. Shit’s mad!” Jamie mused, amber beer spilling over the lip of the pint. “Nah, she’s the prettiest and the funniest and the coolest person ever and I love her.” 

“Who the fuck are you talkin ‘bout, bruv?” Isaac asked incredulously, looking just as amused as everyone else.

“Mate, I’m talkin’ ‘bout me girlfriend,” Jamie said very as-a-matter-of-factly, like they should’ve known that. “Duh.” 

“You’ve got a girlfriend? Since fucking when?” 

Jamie counted off on his fingers, scrunching his nose in thought. “Erm…four, five months? Maybe six?” He shook his head quickly, correcting himself. “No, not six. Would’ve done something special for six, wouldn’t I?” 

“First I’m hearing of it. How ‘bout you boys, did you know Jamie had a girlfriend?” Isaac asked, looking around. A chorus of ‘no’s and similar answers sounded amongst the others. Jamie’s brow furrowed. “It’s settled then. Who’s got the heart of the great Jamie Tartt?” 

“Good rhyme, boyo!” Colin chimed in, clapping his best friend on the back. 

Isaac looked proud of himself. “Whoa. I’m a fucking poet and I didn’t even know it.” He accepted another few praises before turning his attention back to Jamie, who looked like he was thinking really long and hard about something. “Okay, back to you. Tell us about her.” 

“I don’t even know where t’start, man,” Jamie sighed happily, resting his chin in his palm. “She’s kind and warm and—and she knows me better than anyone. It’s like…it’s like she’s an angel.” 

It was kind of weird, hearing Jamie be so open about his feelings for another person. He’d always been one to play things close to the vest, so that’s how they knew things with this secret girlfriend had to be serious. 

Sam beamed, happy as ever that his friend had found someone special. “Surely the angel from above has a name? Maybe one of us knows her?”

“Y/N.” 

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at Roy, who looked like he was about to start punching dicks. 

“Y/N, like…Roy’s sister, that Y/N?” Sam replied hesitantly, drawing pointed looks from every single one of his teammates. “I’m just confirming! There are other people named Y/N in London, you know.” 

Jamie pointed in his teammate’s general direction, nodding aimlessly. “Yep, her. That’s my girl.” 

Roy stood from his seat without a word, grabbing Jamie under the arm and dragging him towards the door. 

“Hey man, what the fuck are you—” 

“Just fucking shut up, will you?” 

“Okay.” 

You were about to call it quits on finishing your book and turn in for the night when the doorbell rang. When you went to open it, you definitely weren’t expecting to see your brother standing on your doorstep, practically carrying your half asleep boyfriend and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Your prick boyfriend got proper pissed. Where do I put him?” 

So Roy knew. And judging by the way Jamie was swaying on his feet, you guessed that he’d been the one to let the cat out of the bag. 

“Erm, couch is fine. I’ll get him settled later.” You opened the door a little wider to let them in and Roy grunted his acknowledgement, hauling Jamie over to the couch and promptly dumping him onto the cushions.

Jamie didn’t even flinch when his face hit the pillows, instead just letting out a dreamy sort of sigh and smacking his lips together without even opening his eyes. You were the one to roll him over onto his side, nudging the dustbin right near his head before covering him with a blanket. 

“How much did he drink?” You asked, smoothing the walnut mist strands away from his eyes. 

“Too fucking much, that’s how much.” Roy grumbled. He wandered over towards a different area of your flat, not wanting to wake Jamie. “Jan Maas taught him a Dutch drinking game, except that fucker can actually hold his alcohol.” 

You cast a fond glance back at your boyfriend, smiling softly at his peaceful face. “Yeah, this one can’t really drink much anymore. Said it’s because of your training regimen, the no beer thing.” 

“Of fucking course you’d know.” 

“I assume Jamie told you about us.” You said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of your jumper instead of looking at Roy. Another vague low noise of acknowledgement from him, though it sounded a bit more strained this time. “If it helps you come to terms, Jamie’s been wanting to tell you for ages. I was the one who wanted to keep it under wraps.” 

“Why?” 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “‘Cause I knew what you’d think. Knew what you’d have to say about it.” 

“Are you a mindreader?” 

“No.” 

“Then how would you know what I’d think?” 

“Oh come on, Roy, you don’t think I know how you are? You get…dickish. I still remember you scaring off poor Billy Montgomery in year nine!” 

“Billy Montgomery was a fucking wanker, that’s why.” 

“Yeah, I know that now,” You huffed, scowling. Roy raised an expectant brow at you. “You’ve always been outspoken about the people I date. I just—I didn’t want you to be that way with Jamie. I know you’ve had your differences, and I know you’ve made up, but…I dunno, I was just worried about what you’d think of us.” 

“Do you love him?” Roy asked stiffly. There was a tic going in the hard line of his jaw when he forced his gaze to yours, and it almost looked like he was in the middle of shitting a brick. If you hadn’t been so nervous about his reaction, you probably would’ve laughed. 

“I do. A lot, actually. He’s…everything I could’ve asked for. Everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.” 

“Then it shouldn’t fucking matter what I think.” Roy said. “Jamie makes you happy, and that is the only thing that matters.” 

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You’d been so worried about how you thought your brother was going to react to the news, you never stopped to consider that maybe Jamie wasn’t the only person who’d been working to change for the better. 

“Thank you, Roy.” 

Caught up in your heartfelt sibling talk, neither of you had noticed Jamie had woken up and stumbled over to the two of you until he gathered the two of you into a rather squished hug.

“My two favorite people, the Kent siblings! You guys are the best!” He slurred, nuzzling into the embrace. Roy let out a growl, but he patted Jamie’s back stiffly nonetheless. You had to stifle another laugh at how utterly uncomfortable he looked right now. “Oh fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up—” 

“That’s it, I’m fucking leaving.” Roy shoved Jamie away from him, wiping his hands off on the front of his jacket and heading for the front door. “Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit and tell him he’s still got training tomorrow, I don’t care how shitty he feels!”

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[theerurishipper]

Superbat Week Day 4: Undercover

For @superbatweek2024

Just as Clark flies into the Batcave, he can hear the telltale signs of Alfred’s disapproval, directed at the only person foolish enough to invoke them constantly. The subtle inflections in Alfred’s voice, and the dry, sardonic tone indicates to Clark that Bruce has done something reckless, though not exceptionally so. Alfred would not have held back otherwise.

“What did you need me for, Bruce?”

The man in question lifts one eyebrow upon his arrival. “You’re late.”

“Nice to see you too.”

Bruce grunts, and turns to Alfred, who picks up a fancy suit, handing it to Clark with not a small amount of disapproval, though it is not directed at him. Clark can only stare bemusedly at the fancy suit that probably costs more than his entire salary. “If this is your way of telling me— again— that you don’t like the suits I own, I’m sorry to tell you that this is not going to change my mind.”

“Ah, I suppose it was worth a shot, sir,” remarks Alfred, the very picture of sarcasm.

“It’s not a commentary on your fashion choices,” Bruce responds, still typing away at his computer. “It’s a bodyguard uniform.”

Clark stares at the sleek, shiny fabric. “And you’re giving this to me because…?”

“You’re now Bruce Wayne’s official new bodyguard. Congratulations.”

--

“I can’t believe you just sprung this on me without asking me if I would agree!” Clark huffs, even as Alfred makes final adjustments to the suit he’s now wearing.

“Are you saying no?”

“…No…”

“Then I don’t see a problem. Besides, I checked your schedule, and you seem to be free enough to assist me.”

Clark blinks. “You what?” Beside him, Alfred sighs as he adjusts Clark’s sleeves.

“I see that our previous talks about boundaries have entered through one ear and escaped through the other already, Master Bruce.”

“I don’t remember any such talk.”

“As I said,” Alfred intones, waving a dismissive hand towards Bruce, who responds with a childish pout. Or as he would call it, a dignified silence.

“Aw, it’s alright, Alfred,” Clark consoles. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of sweet, actually.”

Alfred directs his eyes to stare down Clark judgementally. “You both certainly are made for each other.”

“Thank you.”

The details of the case are simple enough. Bruce Wayne is being targeted by a fellow competitor, a man by the name of Maxwell Steele, who wants him gone. Batman is currently looking into this competitor to find out why. Bruce is to be meeting with this competitor in an hour, and wants Clark to tag along as a lie detector posing as his bodyguard.

Clark can’t say he’s displeased with the idea, or the thought of helping Bruce out in this way. It’s even kind of exciting. He’s only ever seen this happen in movies.

“You’re a superhero, Clark. You can fly and shoot lasers from your eyes.”

“But I always preferred the secret agents over the bombastic superheroes,” Clark responds, grinning at his reflection in the mirror. “And now I get to be one for real! It’s cool.”

“If that is what ‘floats your boat,’ Master Clark.”

Clark grins, and slips on the shades the Bruce hands him. “So, do I look the part?” he asks, and listens with great satisfaction to the uptick in Bruce’s heart rate.

“…Yes, you do.”

Clark grins. This just might be fun after all.

--

Maxwell Steele is a man who is very much not upending the stereotypes this evening. He is as suspicious looking and sleazy as one would expect when they think of an evil businessman. Clark feels like he is way more excited than he should be; after all, he is standing right before someone who is trying his hardest to kill Bruce.

The man in question is rambling about his latest business ventures, while Bruce sits before him pretending to be someone who is only pretending to be interested. Clark finds it almost baffling how well Bruce can embody the spirit of the character he puts on.

“And, of course, we intend to finalize our dealings, of course—”

“I just have one question,” Bruce interrupts, leaning forward. “Your company has come under fire— several times, in fact— for your alleged involvement with some of the more… notorious criminals of Gotham. I must admit, I find the idea of doing business with someone involved in those kind of affairs rather frightening. Wouldn’t you think so too?”

Steele gives his sincerest effort to put on an expression of affront. As is, he just looks nervous and guilty. “Mr. Wayne,” he sputters, “I must tell you that everything you have ever heard regarding that is unsubstantiated!”

Lie.

“I would never support criminals in such a manner—”

Lie.

Steele leans back in his chair, and takes a deep breath.

“— and I have always tried to use my wealth to deal with them.”

Truth.

Clark frowns. That can’t be right.

“Honestly, Mr. Wayne, I take offense to your assumptions about me! Why, certainly you must have experience with having the vultures assume the worst of you. The most uncharitable tabloids are always looking for something to invent to disparage the characters of good men, and—”

“Yes, yes, I understand, Mr. Steele,” Bruce interrupts. “Thank you for meeting with me. We will get back to you with further details.”

Once the man leaves, and Bruce returns to his office, Clark closes the door behind them with a grin. “Who’s gonna tell him that being accused of sleeping around and being accused of colluding with criminal masterminds aren’t exactly in the same ballpark?”

Bruce grunts. “If he doesn’t know that by now, then no one’s ever going to be able to change his mind.” He levels Clark with a look. “What did you learn?”

“Well, he’s definitely lying about almost everything. But he did seem to be telling the truth when he mentioned that he was dealing with the villains, even though I don’t quite buy what he said.”

Bruce taps his finger on his chin, deep in thought. “Dealing with the villains… perhaps his phrasing is where we need to look. He’s making some sort of deal with one of them.”

“To kill you?”

“Possibly.” He looks back at Clark, eyes steely and focused. “I will pay him a secret visit tonight, and see what I can find regarding any unsavoury dealings. Maybe then—”

As it turns out, Bruce doesn’t even need to go looking for the trouble. The trouble just comes to find him. Clark throws himself over Bruce, rolling him across the shiny floor of his office as fire shoots in through the now shattered windows. Clark lands over Bruce’s body, and they watch as Firefly comes barrelling in through the window, spraying pieces of glass everywhere. Clark surreptitiously blows away some of the stray pieces before they can hurt Bruce.

“I gotta thank you, Wayne,” Firefly goads. “I just got a massive payday for trying to get rid of you. It’s almost too easy to make money these days, huh? Where’s the challenge?”

Clark rises to his feet. If he finds a way to get Bruce out of here, Batman can come and clean up this mess. But it wouldn’t do to break his cover, either…

“Get back, Mr. Wayne,” Clark growls, putting on a deep, intimidating voice. Behind him, Bruce does an excellent impression of a cowering puppy. Clark reaches out a hand as though shielding him. “I’ll protect you.”

Firefly bursts into laughter. “That’s rich. You think you can take me on? With what, your dopey sunglasses?”

You’d be surprised, Clark almost says. But he doesn’t. Because he’s a bodyguard, and they aren’t really supposed to quip around. That’s what the movies say.

Instead, Clark jumps for Bruce as Firefly unleashes another spray of fire. He shoves himself over Bruce, and then pushes him towards the window. “You’re toast, you asshole!” rages Firefly, flying towards him, flamethrowers at the ready.

In the three seconds it takes for Firefly to reach him, Clark takes the time to observe the crowd gathering outside the building, watching with bated breath. He watches Bruce’s expression twist into one of utter exasperation, the look of fear falling off his face once he is sure that Firefly is focused on Clark completely. And he watches the wires connected to the tank on Firefly’s back sway with the force of his flight.

As Firefly shoots towards him, Clark grabs onto the wire, pulling Firefly with it before the man can use his flamethrowers. Using the one on the left, Clark deftly spins the man around and around, wrapping him up in his own weapon. And then he knocks him out with a solid right hook.

Clark secures Firefly to Bruce’s fancy desk, which is bolted into the ground, making it a convenient restraint. With Firefly taken care of, Clark turns back to Bruce.

Only to find him teetering on the edge of his own building, hanging on to the edge of his destroyed wall. People are screaming, outside, and Clark just gives Bruce a judgemental look, knowing that no one can see him. “Don’t you dare.”

Bruce, for his part, just gives him an expression of utmost satisfaction. “Whoops,” he says, completely deadpan, before he lets his fingers go lax, starting his descent towards the pavement below.

Clark doesn’t even think twice. Grabbing Firefly’s flamethrower— the one connected to the wire on his right— he jumps after Bruce, and grabs him by the waist. Bruce, steady heartbeat belying that he is quite unconcerned despite the expression of fake terror on his face, turns to face him as they hang midair, and wraps his arms around his neck.

“My hero!” he simpers, loud enough for people to hear, and then he kisses him. And despite the sheer audacity of the man, Clark lets him, because he really does feel like he deserves it today.

--

“Hey, listen to this,” Clark says, laughing. “Bruce Wayne seduces new bodyguard after near death experience. Bruce, you’re famous again!”

“Very funny,” Bruce grumbles. “Of course they’d report on that instead of on Maxwell Steele’s arrest.”

“I guess being arrested for colluding with Firefly isn’t juicy enough for the Gotham Gazette.”

“Hm.”

Clark lets Bruce type at his computer a while longer, happy to just sit there and soak up the feeling of satisfaction of a job well done.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Bruce finally says, cutting through the silence. “How did you manage to speak in such a… different voice?”

Clark grins. “Extremely precise muscle control.” He lets his voice drop lower into the deep, silky baritone he’d adopted for his role. “Do you like it, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce turns to face him, and Clark grins. He speeds off, and returns dressed in the suit, just in time for Bruce to give him a once-over. “I suppose I do,” Bruce replies.

“Which does remind me,” Clark vocalizes, slipping the shades onto his face. “We haven’t yet discussed the terms of my payment.”

“How much would you like?”

Clark stands, and stalks over to Bruce, keeping a serious, emotionless expression on his face. He rests his hands on the armrests of Bruce’s chair, and leans into Bruce’s space until their lips are only a few inches apart. “I believe,” he rumbles, “that we can come to some other arrangement.”

Bruce licks his lips, otherwise expressionless. But his hands come up to run all over Clark’s chest, over the muscles of his arm, around his neck. They come up to his face to trace around his eyes, or rather, around the shades covering them.

“So do I.”

Clark just grins, and kisses him. Being disguised as a bodyguard really did have its perks, even if it was only for a day. He got to have the whole movie experience, down to getting with a hot love interest in the end. It doesn’t get much better than that.

---

Read on AO3

[implalazz]

Waaaaaaaaa I’m back with more yokai fusions & also a comically small Buchikoma

L-R: Blazitina, RoboGrapenyan, Damonono, Buchikoma, Komajisan, Pandatina

Again more design thoughts under tha cut ✌️

My fingers always feel sore after typing this much….. Lots of learning about the details of traditional clothes this time. I chose these pairings cuz I felt lazy & wanted to draw the simpler ones first lol

Blazitina: Lion girl 👍 First thing I can think of in my thought process was making the belt an obi sash. Tattered at the ends to batch Blazion’s & with an obijime for fun. I didn’t super feel like giving her the same kind of Miku-esque kimono sleeves that I gave Lord Lie-In so I just made them weird kinda arm warmers. Did the same for her pants too, I’m not sure what they’re called but they’re inspired by the leg warmer kinda things in PLA on the fancy kimono. Also gave her a juban cuz idk I made her gi dip too far under her arms & yknow she’s a little lady she’s gotta stay covered up. I know all of this traditional kimono gear isn’t conductive to good karate but whatever…… She doesn’t get boots cuz I like drawing paws & her ahoge mimic Blazion’s scar (I didn’t have enough room to fit it in). I was thinking of giving her an x shaped hair clip but I thought it’d be too busy on her head. Overall despite some things I’d change (the way I shaped the obi I know realize the shape is TOO stylistic) I think this is my favourite design of the bunch

RoboGrapenyan: Very much inspired by the pkmn Violet paradox mons* (*See the bells & eyes.) Not much to say it’s a pretty straightforward fusion. The tail onibi are lightbulbs because it feels more robotic & I thought it’d be cool. The jet exhaust is grape soda……. That was a choice. LOOK I’LL EXPLAIN, uh….. grape….. grape exhaust? Grape vapor? Grape soda????? Sure. Also I think in the back of my mind I was thinking of that soda gun from that one episode of SpongeBob. Naughty Nautical Neighbors. I had to google it I had to know what episode it was….. yeah.

Damonono: YAAAAYYYYY FIRST TIME DRAWING HAKAMA THEY’RE WEIRD BUT I’LL GET BETTER AT IT!! They’re supposed to be split leg hakama but in every reference I looked up they’re so wide that they just look like the skirt kind rather than having two leg holes. I gave them hakama cuz bootleg jeans would be weird with a kimono. And I like hakama. That’s it. The sleeves….. Let’s talk about those. I didn’t wanna give them the heart guns/cannons cuz idk…. I liked the way Damona’s hands were posed & I wanted to keep that. So instead they have weird fucked up heart shaped kimono sleeves. I wanted to keep Damona’s long obi too but I thought it might mess with the silhouette already having the sleeves & also that’s just not a thing you do with hakama. So….. her sleeves are kind of like the end of her obi…….. I’m only now realizing she could’ve had them tied up normally & they could still hang that low….. whatever. In my mind they go under the obi, get tied up so they can put on the hakama, & then untie them & let them hang over the hakama. Look I don’t think of fashion in terms of is this normal? Is this practical? If it looks good I do it. Not much else to say. I had to look up a tutorial on how to put on hakama cuz I wanted them to be as accurate as possible……. And now I know how to put them on so that’s cool I guess. I LOVE LEARNING!!!!!!!!

Buchikoma: Again pretty simple. I gave him a little tuft of hair to emulate Buchinyan’s wispy hair tuft. I forgot to draw the spot of the side of the right thigh, lol. His eye spot is shaped like an onibi cuz it’s cute 👍. His haramaki has the patterning of Jibakoma’s tummy spot cuz I can’t not give him the haramaki that’d be a crime. His ears are farther apart & smaller like Jibakoma’s, & his tail onibi are shaped like that cuz idk I tried to imagine what Jibakoma’s tail looked like & I thought of that. Overall another one of my favourite yokai fusions I’ve done. That’s my son

Komajisan: SPLIT EARS!!!!! Inspired by a fandom design of a certain character from a certain comic I won’t name….. IYKYK. Split ears cuz 2. Also extra swirly bits on the swirls cuz 2. I was thinking of adding blue spots to his bindle but I didn’t like how it looked so I didn’t do it. Fun paw spots cuz it’s cute. Forehead onibi are kinda angry lookin cuz idk….. I just felt it. Also mini onibi in between the forehead ones cuz 2. Some makeup accenting cuz……. IT’S CUTE!!!!!!!! I was also thinking of making the onibi half brown & half blue but it looked bad so yeah, I didn’t do it.

Pandatina: Probably my favourite in terms of lineart. I actually got noticeably better at drawing kimono particularly the sleeves. I’m proud :]. I honestly didn’t feel like giving her a haori/cape/whatever so I didn’t (also I just forgot to lol.) So she has a good sewn into the collar of her kimono. Clover shaped obijime like Slimatina cuz it looks cool & I like it, also I needed more clover shapes lol. She’s got one in her hair because of that too, I was thinking of making it blue but I thought nahh. She’s intentionally very pale cuz I wanted her skin tone to really match the snake part of her body. And she has eyeshadow on to emulate the spots around Pandanoko’s eyes, same with her pupils. Again just a simple fusion

[dearlyd3parted]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 | 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

🕸️chapter index: - chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚜! - 8.2k wc

It went without saying that Mark’s first confession attempt went absolutely horribly. 

After the whole fake secret admirer thing, he stumbled his way into getting ready for class, the awkwardness of the lie heavy in the air still. It took everything in him to not scream at the top of his lungs as he leaned against the bathroom sink, but the thin walls wouldn’t let him do that. Mark finished getting ready and pushed up his glasses while he approached you. He could only gulp at the sight of your expression, too complex for him to even begin to unpack. 

Mark took a mental deep breath as he beamed at you grabbing his backpack and attaching his suit cuff on. “Sorry about the wait! I’m ready now!”

You shot to your feet, slinging your own bag over your shoulders, following him out wordlessly. 

Doyoung happily waved goodbye to the both of you as you left. Well, he was happy with you. When he looked at Mark his face grimaced a bit, as if he knew. Like Mark had said, the walls were pretty thin. 

It was a quiet walk up to the rooftop, Mark moving faster up the stairs. Usually, he would slow his pace to match your normal one. At the moment, he kind of wanted to throw up, cry, and knock himself out at the same time, so he kept a safe distance. All he could hear were his thoughts and your soft footsteps behind him. He wondered what you were thinking, if you had even believed that. If you did, he wondered how it made you feel. Nothing? Something? Anything? It killed him not knowing.

As he reached the rooftop, he let his bag splat on the floor as he got suited up, watching as you pulled out the official fan merch Spiderman hood used to hide your face whenever he swung through the city with you. The sight always made him giggle, but today it was overtaken by the unease in his stomach. You walked to the edge as you pulled the strings of your backpack, Mark following you timidly. “Can you swing a little faster? We really can’t be late. We only have O-chem Wednesdays and Fridays as is.”

Mark nodded, perched on the ledge in his signature pose as he motioned you over. “Y-yeah! Course I can. You sure…you can handle it, though?”

A small giggle could be heard under the mask as you set your arms out, ready to be scooped up. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Mark picked you up with a bit more reluctance than usual, his arm finding your waist as he held you against him. Truly, the last position he wanted to be in at the moment, but it couldn’t be helped. “Okay…here goes then.”

Soon, he was tipping you both over the ledge, feeling the familiarity of your arms latched across his neck. You squealed a little at the initial drop, but it always ended the same, your feet eventually kicking in the wind and a flurry of giggles in his ear. 

You had grown fond of being swung by Spiderman over the years, even if the first few times ended in you being terrified for your life, swearing you would never do it again. It has become something you enjoy now. Maybe the rush had become addicting, or you just finally realized that Mark wouldn’t drop you. Either way, it was usually fun for the both of you. At the moment though, all Mark could think about is how close you were and how much of an idiot he was.

After a ride you seemed to enjoy, Mark landed on an office building right next to campus, one he frequently used to enter with no detection. As he set you on your feet, he held out his arms protectively as you found your balance, laughing at the butterflies in your stomach as you pulled off your mask. “That was fun!”

Mark pressed the emblem on his chest, his suit deactivating as he stared at you. Already smiling again after one swing through the city, despite the roller coaster he had taken you on this morning. Somehow, it made him feel even guiltier for lying. How he was such an idiot and you were everything good in the world, yet he lied to you. He could’ve spilled his heart out at that very second. He knew he wouldn’t, he couldn’t possibly. But as he followed you to the entrance of the building and down the stairs, he realized what this all said about him.

Spiderman duties aside, he was actually just a big coward.

Mark followed you, doing his best to not show every thought on his face and function like a normal human being. All he could think about, though, was that never in a million years did he expect to have messed up his confession that badly. 

Sure, Mark is somewhat self-aware. He had figured out he would chicken out for maybe the first two or three attempts, but drag in an entirely made-up person in this to save himself? He would have never guessed that.

It upset him so much that he still thought about it as the both of you sat in class. On a whim, He began listing off all of the dangerous things he had done before.

Jumped off of the empire state building.

Fought off attempted bank heister's that had machine guns.

Stopped a train with his bare hands.

Caught a car

Caught two cars.

Caught a bus.

And a truck.

Did he mention the Captain America’s shield?

Fought intergalactic villains.

Fought some jerk with alien technology.

Fought plenty of other jerks whose sole intention was to kill Mark.

He could have really kept going, but there was no need. It was enough for him to stare at his textbook in confusion. To you, it must have seen like he was having a hard time grasping the material, since he has always hated silence. No, Mark couldn’t grasp himself. 

When class was over, he peered over to you, watching you pack up your stuff and looking like nothing was wrong. If there was one positive, it was that you didn’t seem to be affected by his strange behavior. He swallowed hard as he turned to face you, his hand giving your shoulder a small tap. “Do you…want me to walk you to your next class?”

As you finished packing your bag, you smiled at him, making your way out of the lecture hall as you responded quietly. “I’m okay, Mark. You’ve gotta get to your internship, no?”

Mark nodded, trailing behind you as you exited the room. “Yeah! But…you know I don’t mind.”

You stopped walking to look at him, smiling with a slightly strained expression. “I know you don’t. But you should get there as early as you can! I remember you told me punctuality for Tony Stark is half an hour early.”

You seemed to always know what Mark needed at that moment even when you didn't really know, and right now it was to wallow in self-pity completely alone. “Alright…I’ll go then. I’ll text you later, yeah?” He said a little breathless, adjusting his glasses as he forced a smile. “Bye, Y/n!”

You smiled as he started to trot away, waving weakly at his retreating figure. “Bye, Mark…”

Mark walked quietly with his head down and hands in his pockets as he made quick work to find the nearest rooftop. It was a swing of shame to Stark Industries, where he mindlessly clocked in, barely processing anything that was happening. 

The incident was like an embarrassing moment that wouldn’t stop playing in his head. Except this wasn’t just embarrassing. It was catastrophic. The whole point of the poem was so he could confess quickly, the same week even. Sure, he wasn’t prepared for it to be this morning, but it was supposed to be soon. And well, now there was no way in hell he could just tell you he panicked and lied. The thought of him exposing how much of a loser he still is to you made him feel even more nauseous.

Each second felt sour when he remembered it was a second more that you were out in the world with absolutely no commitment to him. It felt even worse when he shuddered just imagining the guy who came from God knows where from your group project could be loitering around you, and-

It went without saying that his performance was affected, his detached and almost shell-shocked demeanor leading to one of his supervisor’s grabbing him by the shoulder, telling him to go home for the day. Mark hadn’t even realized he was seconds away from mixing two chemicals whose compounds could certainly create a mixture that wasn't exactly safe. 

It was another swing of shame all the way to his apartment. Thankfully he didn’t have another class that day, because it wouldn’t have gotten his full attention anyway. 

It was around two PM when he landed at his apartments, his tail between his legs as he unlocked his door, only for it to be opened by Doyoung who peeked his head around the door. “Oh, Hi Mark!” Doyoung said with an empathetic smile as he stood aside, letting a deflated Mark inside their home as he checked his watch. “You’re early…I’m about to go to work.”

Mark let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and leaned on the counter pouring a large glass of water. “Yeah, got sent home early…just off my game.”

Doyoung, who was originally about to slip on his shoes and leave, had a look of understanding as he locked the front door, cautiously approaching Mark as he gulped down the glass of water until it was empty. “Oh…is this about...?” Doyoung questioned, his approach tense as if he was stepping through a field of landmines. 

Mark used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, nodding discouragedly as he gazed at his shoes, not wanting to look up. “I’m assuming Johnny told you. And you heard this morning.”

Doyoung sighed and smiled, nodding softly. “Johnny told almost everyone by now. I also heard you this morning…and last night…you tend to recite what you’ve written out loud. Walls are pretty thin…” Doyoung explained softly, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

Mark’s face dropped in his hands in his shame, asking himself why he hadn’t expected this. Doyoung was a comforting presence as Mark found it in him to face him, shaking his head. “How bad was it?”

Doyoung grinned, the type of grin you give someone when you’re trying to indirectly say ‘bless your heart.’ After some contemplation, he spoke up. “It wasn't very good…” He admitted through his teeth, a silence enveloping them both as Doyoung waved his hands. “But nothing that can’t be fixed, right?”

Mark looked at Doyoung with hopeless eyes, like he was out of options even if he had in actuality only attempted once. “I don’t think I can…”

Doyoung shook his head, standing across from Mark in the kitchen. “Look, maybe the poem was just too much. It was nice, just…gotta be something that comes more naturally. You’ve just gotta think of what that is!”

Mark felt like he had heard that idea, internalized that idea, for years and years, and it never seemed to work for him. With just one failure on his belt, it still felt like it was hundreds. “I don’t know, Doyoung…I don’t even want to try right now. I can’t think of what that could be.”

Doyoung had a pensive look, nearly grabbing his chin as he got straight to trying to think for Mark. Doyoung had always been one of the sweetest of his friends, and it was moments like these that proved that. Moments later, Doyoung had an epiphany. “Ah! She joins you on your comms system or whatever when you go out on patrol as…you know who, right?” Doyoung asked. Mark always found it endearing that even though they had found out long ago, his friends always were concerned of even connecting Mark as Spiderman out loud.

Mark nodded, waiting for Doyoung to follow up with his idea. “Well, when she’s on one night…What if you…Leave something on the webs for her to see? Can you do that? Draw an ‘I,’ a heart, and then ‘U.’ That’s easy for you to do, and once you do it, you can’t back out!” Doyoung suggested with a smile, proud of the cheesy idea he had come up with.

That was Mark’s initial thought, that it was extremely cheesy. However, the more he thought about it, the more appealing it was. Mark’s written things in webs before so that wouldn’t be an issue, and once he did, he couldn’t exactly panic and destroy it. He couldn’t lie either, as you were the only girl in his life that knew he was Spiderman. He pondered it before looking up at Doyoung with his face growing more convinced. “You think so?”

Doyoung beamed at him with a smile as he nodded excitedly. “Definitely, I think that’s romantic! Easy to get the point across.”

Mark almost smiled to himself, thinking it was a foolproof plan. Then it hit him he thought the same with the poem, and that had turned into a disaster. As easy as it sounded, surely there was still a way for him to mess it up. His head leaned back as he stared up at the ceiling. “I dunno, Doyoung…I don’t have much faith in myself.”

Doyoung took a deep breath, watching the distressed Mark and carefully choosing his words. “I don’t know what exactly Johnny told you, but in my opinion. I think you have very good odds. We haven’t known Y/n as long as we’ve known you, but it’s been forever.” Doyoung pondered, smiling softly at the memories. “We all see how she looks at you. How you look at each other. I think no matter what, nothing will change in that.”

Mark stayed silent for a moment, nodding as he pushed away from the counter, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it…you’re all right. I’ve just gotta do it already. And…I like the web thing.”

Doyoung grinned, his eyes bright as he agreed with Mark. “It’s creative! I think Y/nnie will like it!” He chimed, slowly returning back to the front door. “You shouldn’t stress so much, I can guarantee it will all work out.”

Mark smiled, his breaths slowing after working overtime the whole day. “Thanks, Doyoung.”

Doyoung started slipping on his shoes, swatting away Mark’s appreciation as if it wasn't necessary. “Of course, Mark. You’ll get there soon, I know it.” He said with a smile, standing up straight with a growing look of curiosity in his face. “Actually, about the webs…you never tell us how you…make them. Like…where they come out of.”

Mark grabbed his things and trudged to his room, the tips of his ears hot. “It’s a lot right now, Doyoung.”

　.   　˚ ✭　 * ��　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Wednesday, 8:07AM

Me: yunjin!! you won’t believe what I just found in his room

Yunjin: ?????????

Me: a poem! i’ll send a pic because it’s……

Me: [attachment.img]

Yunjin: WOAH??? IS IT FOR YOU

Me: you won’t believe this even more

Yunjin: oh God

Me: i THOUGHT it was for me, because when he saw me reading it he got SUPER nervous but when i asked him who he wrote it for he very quickly told me “i didn’t write it!!” and proceeded to swear up and down it was from a secret admirer? in his coding class? and he found it on his desk?

Yunjin: …..

Yunjin: Don’t tell me you believe that.

Me: not one bit

Wednesday, 2:56PM

Mark ♡: Hi Y/n!! :D No need to join me in comms tonight, I’m swamped with chem ;(

Me: do you need my notes?

Mark ♡: Please!!! I was not paying attention today!!!

Me: [attachment.imgs]

Me: i saw, why were you more out of it than usual?

Mark ♡: Just tired!

Mark ♡: Anyways, join me tomorrow? I have a surprise for you!!!

Me: yeah i can join you tomorrow 

Mark ♡: Yay :D be there or be square

Me: and nobody wants to be a square •ᴗ•

Mark ♡: •ᴗ•

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

“They call it the Stark Industries Junk Drawer.”

The basement located with 6 large and brooding men was dark and damp, smelling of mildew. No one looked happy to be there, yet they all sat intrigued and focused on the one man sitting in the middle of them. He looked the smallest of the bunch, yet the most maniacal, his eyes under the old scar on his forehead holding an anger in them. 

“It’s where Stark throws all his ‘scraps.’ Or at least, what a rich man considers scraps.” The man said, a scoff at the end.

“Think about every project he’s ever done. From that arc reactor to his first ever suit. The vibranium shit he invented, elements from other planets, technology you can’t even fathom. There’s pieces of everything in there.”

He stood up, his hands clenched together. “Even just metal, the strongest kind that isn’t even on the market. All of that’s trash to him. To Stark Industries. Do you know what one bucket of that stuff can mean to us?”

The man continued his speech, one of the men in the room lighting a cigarette. “We’ll never worry about money again. I can scavenge everything useful, use it to make weapons that’ll go for thousands. Even what can’t be used will still go for money on the market.”

One of the men, wearing an unsure look sighed and spoke up. “So, we’re picking at bare bones? Like dogs?”

“Don’t we do that already?!” The man spat back. “Besides, their bones are the rest of the world’s diamonds. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

The man walked to a table with a blanket spread over it. “I used to work there. Well, I was a scientist. Until Tony Stark decided I couldn’t keep up.” The man said with a venom, looking back at the rest of them. “Then they moved me to the Junk Drawer. Doing janitor's work.” 

He walked around the table, standing behind it. “Before I left, I managed to steal 2.3 kilograms of scrap. With just that, I made this.”

The man tore off the sheet, revealing a weapon made of shiny metal, with several beaming blue buttons. “The destruction this thing could cause is no joke, and I know several people who would pay top dollar.”

The other men in the room gawked at the revealed weapon as the man moved to roll in a chalk board, filled with pinned papers, sketches, headshots, and everything needed for a heist. “The plan is to load up one moving truck. It should be fairly easy for it being a Stark facility. I remember entry points and where the best junk is, moving in should be no problem.” He sighed as he turned to the board, pointing at a masked headshot. “The only problem is Spiderman.”

“The avengers little pet. He swings by there at different times on different days, like some sort of hound dog. I’ve been watching him for weeks, there’s no solid pattern. The only option is a diversion.”

One of the men shifted in his seat a bit uneasy, sucking on his teeth before talking. “Scar…A diversion for Spiderman? The guy’s practically an Avenger.”

The man standing at the board, now known as Scar, chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I thought the same, but at the end of the day, he’s just a man under there.”

“And I think I know exactly how to distract him. There’s an apartment he visits frequently, on the quieter side of town.”

“I think Spiderman’s got himself a little girlfriend.”

The room was quiet, only filled with the tension between glances that they gave each other. “You wanna kidnap a girl?”

Scar waved it off, looking back at his board. “We ain’t gonna kill her, not if he complies. Just get his eyes off the Junk Drawer, that’s all. We do this, and we get all that tech in our hands. We do this, and I prove those sons of bitches at Stark Industries that I’m just as capable.”

“This will be way too easy.”

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark swears he had never been so busy on a Thursday night. 

His busiest times were always Friday and Saturday nights. Those were a no-brainer, since the city was sardine-packed with people enjoying their weekends and getting up to no good in the process. Every other day of the week was pretty tame. Sure, there’d be the occasional wannabe supervillain he’d have to put in his place, but that was really it.

However, tonight he helped chase down a bank robber, brought him back to the police, helped the police catch a running fugitive in a stolen car, witnessed a 6 car pile up and stopped a bus from driving off a bridge, and saved not one, not two, but three cats from trees.

It seemed there was trouble for him to round up the second he left his house. You had joined him on comms soon after, and had been directing him, providing whatever coordinates he asked of you and helping him strategize as needed. 

He had been so busy, by the time everything died down, he didn’t remember what he had to do. Only when heard you humming on the other side of the live feed, was he brought back to his senses. 

Mark was hanging on a streetlight, catching his breath as heard your voice. His greatest relief when you found out he was Spiderman when you were in high school wasn’t just that he wasn’t keeping his biggest secret from you anymore, but when you suggested making a communication system so you could accompany him, he realized he didn’t have to be lonely on these patrols anymore.

Sure, you weren’t joining him for every single patrol, but each time you were there, he felt more at ease. He smiled to himself as he heard you, pressing a few buttons to turn on your camera to be visible in his “hud”, the hologram in his mask, finding you sitting at your desk in front of your monitor and annotating your textbook. “Whatcha doing?”

You looked up, tilting your head as you looked at the monitor, smiling to yourself as you saw the red dot signifying that he was watching, and seeing his view upside down. “Studying. You’ve been up and around the past hour.”

Mark groaned as he went to move, not because he was tired, but because he didn’t want to stop looking at you. “Ugh, I know. That has to be a record or something.” He said as he swung to land on the pole, surveying the city around him. “I was so busy I didn’t tell you my spider joke!”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you shut your textbook. Mark had a habit of telling you a different joke about spiders or webs each time you joined him. “Let’s hear it then.” 

“What’s a spider's favorite day of the week?”

“What?”

“Websday.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Stupid,” you said, contrary to the smile on your face.

Mark laughed, shooting a web as he started to leisurely swing around, keeping an eye on the streets of New York. “You laughed!”

Reluctantly, Mark turned off the live feed. As much as he wanted to keep watching you, he’s learned from past experience it's never a good idea to swing while multitasking. “Hey, did you see when I webbed up that bus? I did that really fast. Like, I swear I had time to spare, I could’ve striked a pose or something.” He shouted through the night, a little breathless at his movements.

“I think it’s time that you try the unassisted aim. You don’t depend on the automatic web aim a lot, but you haven’t gone completely without it.” You suggested. 

“Yeah, sure! Why not? Let’s do it now!” Mark agreed. He had barely processed what you had said in actuality, something about his aim. When you spoke to him in that soft, honey-like voice, he would agree to anything. 

“You said it, not me!” You confirmed, already clicking away at buttons. “I can make the change from here, Ready?”

Mark landed perched on a random rooftop, looking at the skyline. “Mhm!”

After a few more clicks, you spoke again, curiosity in your voice. “I did it, Try it out and see.”

Mark looked down at his web shooters, they looked the same, the only difference being a little icon in the hud his mask changing from A to U. “Hm…here goes I guess.”

Mark shot out with his right hand, intending to hit the building across from him, but finding he failed miserably when he flailed in the air, instead clinging on a window much lower. “Woah, woah, woah, woah!” He panicked, swinging from the window and managing to find another point that wouldn’t send him to the ground. “This feels weird!” He screamed.

You looked at the sight anxiously, your hands at your face and eyes wide as you watched him fumble from building to building. “Mark…Jesus, please don’t fall. Should I turn it back on!?”

He tried to pull himself together, reminding himself that you seeing him splat on the ground would be more than humiliating. “No, no! I got this!” He said out of breath, his adrenaline pumping.

After a few more seconds, he found that somewhat of a rhythm, and when he could, rolled onto the roof of another building stopping his momentum on the ledge as he dropped down flat on his back. “Oh my god! That…it's like riding a bike with no training wheels!" 

You let out a deep sigh as his feet safely found the floor. “I don’t think it’s time to turn it off yet…”

Mark waved away at your comment, standing back up and grabbing his pounding heart. “I got it, I swear!” Mark promised, ignoring your other remarks as he shot off this building once more. 

He spent the next minutes, weaving in and out of buildings, shooting a web and barely making it, or missing and having to redirect his swing, all while you bit your nails as you watched. He hadn’t fallen or crashed into anything yet, his flow getting steadier as he grew accustomed to it. That is, until he turned the corner and found himself lunging towards a building that he didn’t count on being there.

He could hear you yell his name from comms, as he swung on a street lamp, that had it not been there, Mark surely would have slammed right into the building. 

His save might have been clean, but his fall wasn’t. He landed feet planted on the sidewalk stumbling around trying to recover from whiplash. “Sorry! Sorry! Totally my fault!” He stammered as he lowered his head in apology to the pedestrians around him, shooting a web up to flee the scene as fast as he could. 

When the noise of the confused pedestrians faded into oblivion, it was replaced by the sweet sound of your laughter. Which in turn made Mark chuckle under his breath himself. “That wasn’t funny!”  He scolded, landing on another ledge with his head in his hands. 

You kept laughing, the sound going straight to his heart. “I told you we should turn aim assist back on!”

He shook his head, sighing with his arms resting on his knees now. “Nah. Despite that…error, it’s getting easier! I definitely scared the shit out of that couple though.” He murmured. His eyes zeroed in on a couple who he had landed right in front of. 

He watched as they walked away, his narrowing eyes looking at one thing only, their joint hands that found each other again, and walked away together. For some very unknown reason, he remembered what it was that he had set to do today.

The web confession. 

2.

He shot up quickly, already swinging before he started talking to you. “I forgot, I’ve got a surprise for you!” He exclaimed, making swift work of moving to your apartment that wasn’t too far away. The faster he moved, the less time he had to think about it. The less likely he was to chicken out. Mark figured if he got in a laminar flow of webbing and slinging, where he moved smoothly and orderly without giving any thought, he wouldn’t even be able to break himself out of it.

You watched as he picked up his pace like he was frantic. Your head tilting as he kept moving towards your direction. “Are you coming towards me?”

Mark huffed as he moved faster, “Yeah! I’ll be there soon!”

You sighed with a pursed smile at his impulsivity. “You can’t stay long, remember? Someone we know could see you.”

Mark shot a web higher and farther than his previous ones, sending him in a hurling flip into the sky. “Won’t take long, I promise! After that I can hang it up for the night.”

You stared at your monitors, endearment on your face turning to epiphany. “You’ve still gotta go to the junk drawer, you didn’t get to earlier!”

Mark groaned as he took a break on top of a moving truck. “Damn it. I completely forgot! Mr. Stark’s gonna be pissed for sure.” Mark didn’t hesitate in flinging himself back into the night. “I’ll be quick! I’m like a minute away.”

All Mark could think as he launched himself your way was how dire his situation was. There was no later, there was no time in between that, it had to be now. His heart rate was fast but masked by his stamina working overtime as he jumped from building to building. It was hardly feasible to him that he was in a hurry to do what he had dreaded doing for a while.

He turned the corner, your apartment in less than half a mile away, and he swears he’s never experienced a bone chilling fear so piercing. “Come to your window!”

“Going.” You said cheerfully, your voice making his nerves run even more rampant. Mark heard a shuffle as you stepped away from the monitor to stand perched at your window. There really was no backing out now. He couldn’t even begin to think of any sort of excuse he could spout if he did. 

He took a couple of heavy huffs and puffs as he saw the last stretch, calling out to you once more before he got to work. “I’m gonna write something with webs! Give me a sec!”

As he got to your apartment, he saw the image of you perched against your window, adjusting a headset as you brushed strands of soft hair out of the way. His heart hammered, and he wondered how you could have no idea how you looked in his eyes, and he never wanted to show you so badly. 

Mark heard your reply, but he was already in action, trying to calculate where he had to shoot each web between buildings to make a circumference for him to work in, the action much more difficult without aim assist.

He shot with his right hand, he needed to tell you. He shot with his left, he’s never had you in the way he wants. He twisted his body, reaching out to shoot a web behind him, he won’t let anyone else get the chance before him.

When he was finished, his head was reeling, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Not because he was tired, not at all. The adrenaline since he remembered about this stunt kept him from feeling fatigued. He just couldn’t stop looking at you as he hung off of the building opposite of yours, watching as you looked at him curiously. 

“Alright, read it.” He said softly. Mark studied your every move as he held his breath. Your big eyes as you turned from him to the webs. This was it, wasn’t it? The moment he imagined over and over and over in his head. The one that would come naturally. The one that would be easy. The only thought in his mind is that you were right. It was overdue, long overdue, and he could only swallow anxiously as he waited for realization to set in. Finally, things between the two of you would be how he always felt they were supposed to be-

Mark jolted when his suit connected involuntarily to a channel he knew all too well from his rookie Spiderman days.

“Hey, Mark. What are you up to?” A familiar booming voice said, and Mark nearly fumbled his way down the building as a not-very-pleased Tony Stark was seen in his hud. “Security at Junk Drawer said you haven’t swung by.”

Mark jumped up to land on his feet, panicked as his heart sank for a different reason. “M…Mr. Stark! Yeah, sorry I got caught up! I was…patrolling, you know?” Mark stammered, leaving out the part that he had spent the last better part of an hour fooling around with you. “I um…I saved a bus…?” Mark said weakly, looking over at you and seeing how you were staring straight at him, listening to this confrontation.

“Huh, How noble.” Stark said, clicking his tongue, “Listen kid, you were scheduled for earlier today, I only ask for this one thing. Just do your rounds, alright? I don’t like making these calls, it's like telling my kid to brush his teeth before bed.”

Mark nodded as if Stark was looking at him, his dread evident. “I’m on it! I’ll be there asap!”

“Good,” Is the last thing Mark heard him say as the connection was cut, and a terrified Mark shouted over to you. 

“Crap…Y/n! I’ve gotta go! You can log off comms! I’m probably getting chewed up!” 

Mark barely heard you telling him to hurry before he was off, going once again way too fast for his recently learned skill of swinging with unassisted aim. 

In Mark’s hysteria, he felt a flurry of emotions. The second most prominent being a stone cold fear. The last time he had gotten in trouble with Tony Stark, it kept him up for days. But despite the ugly feeling he got from hurling himself to meet his upset mentor, there was one even uglier.

 The most prominent was frustration. He should’ve been with you, watching the way the light shone off your eyes as he confessed to you. Mark should have been slinging towards you, confirming all of your suspicions, getting an answer he needed to know for his soul.

Mark groaned into the night, shaking himself off. His masterpiece was there, he only had to count on the fact that you would read the webs. When tomorrow came, and he saw you for O-chem again, he could answer all of your burning questions with complete honesty.

First, Mark had to go through Tony Stark, though. 

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

The following day, you sat in your O-chem class, diligently taking notes. Of course, Mark is right next to you.

It had been 2 days since you read the poem from the alleged “secret admirer”, and all of your curiosities remained unanswered. You kept reading it over and over, (maybe a few times imagining it being about you), and it made less sense that a secret admirer would write something so heartfelt for someone they likely had not gotten to know yet each time you read it.

You and Yunjin had clearly ruled out that it wasn’t from a secret admirer. Yunjin was 100% convinced it had to be for you, especially when taking into account how awkward and clammy he was for a few hours after, but you still weren’t sure. It seemed too good to be true. One slightest mention of a guy surely wouldn’t have caused him to act that fast, would it?

You decided to sleep on it, wanting to study Mark a bit more before he brought it up again. To see if he was acting happier than usual, sadder than usual, or maybe weirder than usual.

Mark was definitely leaning towards that last one, and it was made clear by the web stunt he had pulled yesterday that somehow left you with even more questions. However, as you looked over to him, you found him utilizing several of the colored pens you had to stay organized, seemingly taking notes. At least he looked less distraught than he was in the last class.

Meanwhile, Mark’s leg wouldn’t stop tapping under the table. Long story short, he never made it back to you last night after he was roped into a lecture disguised as going for some drive thru burgers. The food was good, the fatherly conversation wasn’t though. Considering that Mr. Stark always thought the junk drawer would be vulnerable if anyone with ill intentions found out about it. 

All that to say that he hadn’t gotten to talk to you about his web-memo. So, yet again, if your proximity didn’t make it bad already, he was having a hard time focusing. 

Mark did try to take notes, considering that the professor was in the process of going over important general properties that would be on their next test. However, he didn’t make it far before he started doodling, something that Mark tends to do out of bad habit when he can’t concentrate. It also just so happened to be that your colorful stationery was right there.

In the midst of drawing what he thinks would’ve been a fabulous Hulk, Mark felt a tug on his paper, causing your green pen to slide off it. When he turned to look your way, his face reddened as he saw you inspecting his paper and going to write something.

Mark watched the conversation unfold, both heartwarming and heart clenching at the same time. He panicked a bit, wondering if this important conversation was really about to go down through passing notes like school-kids. That is, until he saw your reply that it said nothing. True worry set in as he asked you to draw what it looked like, and seeing what you had thought it was, and it was nothing close to his intention. 

Stupid unassisted aim.

Mark had one of two options. He could correct you, draw what it was supposed to say, or he could do what he had done up to this point, and lie. As he picked up the red pen, he took a deep breath. It was a simple drawing, that's all it was. A simple drawing to open the door to not-so-simple feelings.

In Mark's defense, it wasn't a total lie. 127 sounded like a pretty cool code for something.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Okay, Mark kind of knew he was going to back out of that one. Seal the deal in a crowded lecture hall where he had nowhere to run for if the occasion called for it? Yeah, No. He backed out when you had read the poem in his own house, where he could’ve jumped out the window if need be. What was he to do in a lecture hall?

However, he was handling this defeat much better than the first one.

After class had ended, you were both free for the rest of the day. Friday was always calm and mellow compared to the rest of your week, and even though you both were free to do whatever you pleased, it somehow always ended in being doing something together. 

O-chem had stretched a bit longer than it usually did, since there was a lab that day that went over class time. You both walked wordlessly, the atmosphere calm as you went through the corridors of NYU. It was a beautiful campus, for a school so prestigious in academics, it matched the same standard in looks.

Mark wouldn’t stop looking at you though, but really, did he ever? His cheeks were hot as he took a deep breath, speaking. “Hey, I know we have that thing with our friends tonight.” He spoke up, his voice soft as he scratched his neck.

You looked over to him with those evil, evil big eyes that always threw him for a loop. “Mhm?”

It was bizarre how every little thing you did affected him. “I’m not feeling very social after the week I’ve had…you wanna just…I don’t know. Meander?” Mark asked, his eyes full of an anxiousness that you would say yes.

Truth was, neither were you. You loved all of your friends dearly, but getting together was always a lot socially. It required you to be present, to exist manually. With just Mark, it never really felt like that, for some reason. It was automatic.

You took a deep breath, a growing grin on your face. “Sure, I’d like that. To meander. You do owe me boba.” 

Mark smiled, having no time to feel guilty that he was skipping on a hang out to spend more time with just you. He remembered your notes and the boba he promised. And…the confession that was lost. “I’ll get that to you stat!”

As you both walked out of campus, opting to take the subway so Mark didn’t have to swing, he noticed that he should’ve been freaking out right about now. Since the beginning of the week when he became brutally aware that a clock he thought was waiting for him had always been ticking, he felt nothing short of uneasy. It wasn’t pleasant to say the least, finding out that he couldn’t postpone it anymore. It had him battling within himself, trying to balance finding an effective method to convey his feelings to you, trying to do it as fast as he could, and trying to figure out what it was that kept making him hold it off this much.

He ruled that it was fear of rejection, of course. Who wasn’t terrified of that? He just found it odd that it was with you. You who had never rejected him in anything in life. In his times of need, his times of sadness, his times of happiness, times of insecurities or self doubt. You accepted all of that unconditionally. 

To some extent, you had already accepted his love. You didn’t know the deep depths and lengthy lengths behind it, but you knew the tip of the iceberg was there. Somewhere along the way, perhaps yesterday when he was shoveling a burger down his throat with Mr. Stark, or as he sat at the top of one of the tallest office buildings, just looking down at his city below him, he realized that even if you didn’t reciprocate it, you would accept it. 

The thought calmed him down, but even then he wasn’t able to follow through with the web plan. Despite this second strike, he was still walking side by side with you, laughing and quipping with each other as you wandered through the streets of New York. He wasn’t questioning every life choice, degrading himself with all sorts of names for not being able to follow through. 

Perhaps it was stupidity or pure denial, but as his thoughts came to a still-mate, functioning as harmoniously as they can, he knew there would be a next time. And, when that time came, it would feel right, never forced like his last two felt.

Who knows, they say the third time's the charm. Perhaps the next one would be it. If it wasn’t, he’d try a 4th, and then a 5th, a 10th, a 20th, a 50th, however many he needed to. However many tries it took him to get you to understand that simple moments like this, sipping bubble tea and walking through central park, he hoped there would be infinitely more.

That is how the day was spent. After getting your promised boba and a stroll through the park, the both of you ended up getting carried away. Running in and out of department stores, shopping malls, finding a photobooth with a Spiderman frame and getting way too excited, stopping by both of your favorite comic book stores, stopping by the lego store on 5th avenue that two grown adults shouldn’t be so ecstatic in, and ending the day with a sub from Mark’s favorite deli. 

The day passes by faster when you’re having fun, especially with someone you love. Even through all of those activities, it was evident you both would prefer it over a big group setting. 

Everyone has their limits, however. As the sun had long set, you and Mark stood at the subway station, watching the train that takes you both home come to a stop. Mark wanted to swing home, but you urged him to take a break and give his body a rest. It was clamor to get on, Mark holding your wrist firmly as everyone was rushing to reach their homes, but miraculously he found a seat, grabbing your shoulders and sitting you down as he held the railing above you.

You giggled as you sat down, looking up at him, his hair messy on his head. “Do you wish we took the other way home now?” Mark asked, a displeased pout on his face.

You shook your head, your hands resting in your lap as he looked down on you, wanting to reach out and touch you so bad. “Nope. I think we’re good.” You answered, your eyes heavy as the train began to move. “Do you mind if I take a nap?”

Mark grinned, reaching out to hold your bag for you. “Be my guest. I’ll protect you as you sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, resting your head back. “Dork.” You muttered, your eyes fluttering shut.

Mark’s brain was fuzzy, a common occurrence with you. He took this as an opportunity to stare at you as much as he liked. With your eyes closed and an order to protect you, it was his job to look. He traced your face in his mind. Your eyes, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the bridge of your nose, the lips he’s always wanted to kiss, adorned with a small smile of a day well spent. It wasn’t often that he got to shamelessly drink all of you like this, so he couldn’t help but obsess in every small detail.

That is, until your head started to tilt to the side as sleep started to take over. It was headed to the pole next to you, and his ‘Mark tingle’ wasted no time in reaching out with your bag in his grasp, holding it out like a pillow of sorts. Your head fell onto it as expected, and now, well he just had to keep his hand there.

It’s not like he minded. He’d hold it up so you can sleep for the rest of time if that’s what you needed. Besides, it allowed him to inch just that much closer. Mark silently prayed the train never reached its destination.

Mark’s prayers went unanswered as it came to your stop, and he tapped your shoulder to jostle you awake. “Y/n, we’re up.” Mark alerted softly, pulling his hand away as you straightened awake before you could process what he had done. 

You shot to your feet, sleep still in your eyes as the subway doors opened, and Mark guided you out. Mark smiled the whole way, teasing and giggling at your little nap. He walked you to your apartment, taking you all the way up to your floor. He had the nagging feeling all day that this day felt different. There was always some that felt like this, like he had you and you had him in the way he yearns for.

As Mark played the role of your own personal escort, his heart clenched and clenched. He wondered what every day would be like if it felt like this. Would the sun shine brighter? Will the cars honk less? Will the lenses of his glasses never get foggy again? He can only imagine, more accurately, only dream. 

They could. They could be like that every day. He could feel this warmth throughout his whole being if he just…

“Y/n.” Mark blurted, as you stood in front of your door, fishing for your keys in your pocket.

3.

You turned around and were hit with that face. That face that he didn’t let you see often, but the one that always lingered, the one you would replay time after time. “Hm?’ You questioned, turning your body to face him, his lips parted as if in disbelief.

Mark swallowed, trying to swallow back his speechlessness. What does he even say? What does one say to a woman they see every time they close their eyes? 

Mark took a deep breath, his fists clenched. 

“Get some rest, okay? You…you work too hard.”

3.

Something told you that isn’t what he wanted to say, the phrase not matching with the expression you couldn’t break down on his face. Yet, you smiled, nodding as you pulled out your keys. “You too, you should get rest too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, for your patrol.”

Mark was holding his breath. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He only watched as you opened your door, waving him a goodbye.

Not yet. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. When the time called for it. 

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

chapter 1

chapter 3