#🕸️: order up

[orderforbrian]

@jonmartinweek Day 5 - cryptids | webs & weaving

i ALSO did make this a while ago for day 5 bc i thought about web!martin weaving jon a sweater out of spiderwebbing, however i also wanted to make that other drawing so have double the web for today lol

[START ID: Two drawings of Jon and Web!Martin from a Web AU of The Magnus Archives. Jon is a thin Persian man with dark short, curly hair, rectangular glasses, and a mustache/beard. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with dark short, wavy hair and several beauty marks. 1st panel: Jon is wearing a sweater with a repeating tricolor wavy pattern and is itching the back of it with a gruff expression, a couple spiders fall out of it. He asks, "Ugh, this is so itchy - what'd you say this thing was made out of?". 2nd panel: Martin smiles widely with two fangs and eight eyes, his cheeks plump with a happy pink. He holds up a detailed web in the shape of a heart and exclaims delightedly, "SPIDERWEB!!" with several hearts around the speech bubble. End ID.]

[grave-st0ned]

recent buys :)

[faytelumos]

WIP poll

This just looked like a fun thing. Got this idea from @tracle0

Open tag game, make each of your WIP plots a poll choice.

[sugawhaaa]

BANGCHAN ONE-SHOT

🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖•{Never sleep}•.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, big dick channie, creampie, oral (f rec) face sitting, dick pics 😋, praise, teasing, hair pulling, groping, nipple play

Pairing:: dom!Chan x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: If u couldn't tell I took inspo from my dream last night 😍 also while writing this I listened to a lot of weird songs including gangnam style and sexy and I know it...

Skz masterlist::🍒

🎧::

A few days ago Chan was on tour, cooped up in his little hotel room dreaming of you. He wanted to be with you, feeling your warmth, smelling your scent, and feeling your touch. As he fantasized about his own girlfriend he found a tent forming in his loose jeans and he just couldn't fight it; he pulled down his jeans, palming himself through his boxers before finally setting himself free. He runs his cupped hand around his cock, rubbing softly as he thinks of your small hands, their warmth and sincerity. He lets out a frustrated groan before picking up his phone, opening the camera, and pointing it down to his girth. He takes a clear picture before sending it to you with a little message.

Chan>thinking about you sweetie

The message alone sounds innocent but with the photo his words become lewd. He grins to himself before setting his phone down, knowing that when you wake to see his messages you'll be feeling the same way as he is right now.

Throughout the night he sends many more messages, videos, audios, and photos. The next morning you wake up to at least twenty messages from Chan and as you open the messages your jaw drops. Photos of his cock, videos and audios of him moaning, and a photo of the mess he made of himself before blaming you with a little winky face. You didn't even know how to respond, how does one reply to such a "good morning"?

After those messages, he doesn't message you a whole lot due to being so busy and active around concerts and events. Fast forward to now and he barely just got in through the doorway and he already has his face buried between your legs. He abruptly pulls back and looks up at you, mouth and jaw wet. "Sit on my face," Chan orders as he lays back against the mattress.

"Babe, you just got home though, you haven't even unpacked yet!" You protest but it's too late, Chan has made up his mind and you will sit on him. He grabs your thighs and you lose your balance due to his strength. You get yourself situated on top of him and he gives you know time to prepare for his schemes. He sorts his tongue through your folds as his nose presses up against your clit, his hands situated on your ass, gripping the plump flesh hard. He sucks on your folds hard as his fingers trickle closer to your slit, one teasing around your tight hole. "C-Chan," You gasp softly as his tongue circles around your opening, tongue poking through your slit every now and then.

You hear Chan choking and struggling to breathe but he's insistent on getting you to cum. You release some of your body weight, letting him breathe for a moment, but he instantly brings you back down. You teeter over the edge as he fucks you with his tongue, his thumb stimulating your ass and his nose pressing up against your clit. That numbing warmth rides up your body as your head falls back and your voice is no longer yours to control, only moans. "Chan~" You moan as you grip his head, his mouth never resisting its assault on your core. "'cumming," is the only thing you can muster to say as the pleasure swallows you whole, your legs twitching and body trembling.

Chan can only moan into your core but you can tell by the soothing rubs of his hands on your ass that he is silently praising you. You bring yourself back down to earth and pull yourself off of your helpless boyfriend before looking down at him. His face is red, hair sweaty and face glistening but a grin of approval and lust lingers on his lips. "Sorry," You say softly but Bangchan just laughs.

"For what baby?" He sits up and gets you to sit on his lap.

"I don't know, smothering you?" You chuckle softly at the absurdity of your words but Chan smirks.

"That's exactly what I wanted," He brushes his lips against your jaw, making you moan softly. He slicks your hair to the side before leaving a dark mark on your neck. "What position do you want babygirl? Wanna ride me, or perhaps want me to bend you over the bed and fuck you till you cry, hm?" His voice has a hint of mischeif but you can tell there's a hidden sincerity. "Or maybe both?" He tilts his head before leaning back to hear your response.

"Both sounds good," You blush with a cheeky smile and he smirks.

"Let's see if you can take all of my built up love for you," He chuckles as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans. You assist him in taking off his pants and tossing them aside, leaving his cock standing up against his stomach. "I'll go easy on you at first," He winks as he holds your hips up over his own, lining his cock up with your soaked cunt. You lower yourself onto him, moaning blissfully as his girth stretches out your tender skin. Chan doesn't fail to moan either, his head falling back as his lips part. "Fuck I missed you so much," He grins as he rubs your hips.

He brings his hands over to your ass, lifting softly, encouraging you to move. You do as he silently suggested and roll your hips against his, feeling the head of his cock rubbing up against the deepest point of your pussy. "I'm sorry baby but I can't fucking wait," He groans, gripping your hips hard enough to leave a faint red mark. He encourages you to bounce on his cock and you do just as requested.

"I don't mind, I missed you too," You whine softly as you feel his cock gliding in and out of you rhythmically, your walls tightly hugging his girth. You bring your hands up to his chest, using him as support as you bounce on his cock, your hair jumping with each plummet.

"Good girl," He growls as he intently watches your body. He grabs one of your tits, squeezing the tender flesh as he looks up at you, eyes filled with adoration with lust. "Fuck this pussy was made for me," He grins before sucking your nipple into his mouth, electing a little squeak from you.

"Your cock's so big," You whine as you feel swear accumulating on your body, your skin undoubtedly turning red at this point.

"Yeah? But you take it so fucking good, don't you?" He growls, thrusting his hips up to punctuate his words. You let out a broken cry and the sudden tension forming in your gut from his deep thrust. You nod with a whimper responding to his taunting question. "Look at you, so fucking cute when you're all fucked up like this," He rubs your cheek with a smile, honestly adoring you. "I need to fuck you baby," He blurts out and you pause. "Bend over the bed," He orders and you don't defy in the slightest. You slip off of him before bending over the bed, impatiently waiting for him to unleash his lust on you.

Bangchan looms over you from behind as his cock rubs up against your core. "I'm going to fuck your brains out," He whispers, his words not a threat but more of a promise. And so, he begins. His cock slides into you with ease with a little force, pushing up against that gummy spot, and since the two of you had already been at it, chan doesn't hold back. His hips slap into your ass, the room filling with the lewd sound of your skin clapping and his balls meeting your wet folds. You can't contain your moans, your jaw seemingly locked open as your body bounces with each of his thrusts.

"C-Chan," You whimper, your arms trembling as you try to hold yourself up. Bangchan grabs a messy fistfull of your hair and pulls it back, your head now tilted back as your body jerks up the bed with each pound. You let out a long moan, your eyes rolling back.

"Oh you like that don't you," He growls as he snaps his hips into you. "I'm close baby, gonna unload inside you and you're gonna take it all," He hisses, his words punctuated with his thrusts. Just when you thought it wasn't possible he thrusts faster.

"Fuck! Chan I-I can't!" you cry out.

"Oh but you can baby," He whispers in your ear. "Let it out baby, I can tell your close," His hips never relent as he reassures you. "Your little pussy is clenching around me, just begging to make you snap," He growls as you feel a warm tingle consume your body but you don't even need to announce your orgasm, chan is already well aware. "There it is~" He lets your hair go, knowing that you like to be in control when you cum, or more that you like your own pleasure to control you.

Not long after your body shakes and quivers Bangchan empties inside you as well. His load was big and somehow felt heavy, like he had been holding this release in for a while. When he's finished he lets out an exhausted moan and rests some of his weight on you. "Thank you...I really needed that," He sighs before slipping out and rubbing your swollen folds with his thumb. "Let's get a shower baby," He kisses your back before you stand up beside him. You nod in agreement and he quickly whisks you up, holding you bridal style before carrying you to the bathroom.

[beloveds-embrace]

🕸️ anon

ok but omegaveese au…being placed with graves and shadow company after brass rolls out an initiative that requires omegas to be fully integrated into pack life (not just on paper to get by the red tape), everything seems fine but there’s always an undercurrent of false niceties and lack of trust and connection with anyone, tensions rising because no one is successful in trying to have a breakthrough with you, being thrown out with barely any warning, the ink on the paperwork still drying, brass scrambling to fix the fuck up and preventing the potential shitstorm that would occur if people hear about an omega in the ranks without a pack attached, (all of this, however, happens at the expense of your emotional, physical, and mental well-being) getting filtered from pack to pack with nothing lasting long enough to stick, filtering from place to place, having no stability or solid ground beneath your feet, and as much an those around you try, it’s just not enough to even start to put yourself back together, and everything just feels wrong, withering away under the scrutiny and stares, doing your job because you’d be damned to let all the years go to waste and it’s the only thing keeping you sane, and still every other aspect of you is just shy of shattering under the stress. being put with a pack that has to work in proximity to the 141, the boys just observing how shit everyone treats you, how they don’t care enough to see this hollow thing you’ve become. they don’t understand how anyone can watch you waste away, prominent bruising showing during sparring practice, never taking food from the mess, not initiating or accepting much physical contact with anyone, spending time holed up in nigh impossible places to get away from everything even after grueling mission, in their eyes that just won’t do, and they’ll do anything to make you see how worth it you are

This is sooo good omfg?? Bless you 🕸️ anon you are a godsend 😩😩💕

They noticed you immediately.

Not because you demanded attention- no, you did the opposite. You wove through the world like smoke, curling into the cracks, slipping beneath notice, existing on the fringes of your so-called pack without ever being part of it.

But they had sharp eyes. And what they saw made something cold settle in their bones.

At first glance, you were exactly what the brass wanted- an Omega fully integrated into a pack. You wore their insignia, stood in formation, obeyed orders with the quiet efficiency of someone who had long since stopped expecting praise. But beneath the surface, nothing was right.

Because packs were supposed to be loud. Not specifically in sound, but in presence. In the way they hovered, protected, scent-marked, ensured their Omega never felt alone. Yet there you were- untouched, unscented, unclaimed. A specter in your own unit, barely acknowledged unless duty required it.

Ghost noticed first; he was trained to see the details others missed, a sniper even off-field: the way your movements were a fraction too slow after a hard hit, how your bruises lingered longer than they should, how no one ever came to your side to check in, to scent-mark, to ensure you healed. The way you picked yourself up every time, shoulders squared, face blank, moving forward as if pain was just another part of your uniform. As if it was something you’d long since grown to accept.

Soap noticed next.

It was the mess hall that gave you away. Not once did you take a tray. Not once did you join your packmates at a table, and not once did they bother checking on you. Instead, you lingered at the edges, offering nods in place of conversation, taking a seat only when necessary. And when you thought no one was looking? You left, empty-handed, disappearing before anyone could call attention to it.

Not like anyone in your supposed pack would have called attention to it, even if they’d seen it.

Gaz noticed in the downtime next.

You never relaxed, even after grueling missions. The others settled into easy camaraderie, laughing, scent-marking, reinforcing bonds that had been built over time. But you? You vanished, slipping away like an afterthought, retreating to places no Omega should have to seek out for comfort- storage rooms, dark corners, anywhere that allowed you to fold in on yourself, away from the world.

He hated how no one even put a sliver of attempt to pull you close.

Price, thus, saw everything.

He saw the way your scent never settled- how it wavered, thin and diluted, as if your body refused to attach itself to a place that was never home. He saw the careful neutrality in your expression, the polite, distant way you spoke to your packmates, as if keeping them at arm’s length was the only thing keeping you safe.

It doesn’t take long to dig up the truth.

Brass fucked up.

This was supposed to be a new era. One where Omegas weren’t just names on a roster, weren’t just passed around for paperwork’s sake. They were supposed to be integrated, bonded, wanted. But no one had accounted for what happened when it didn’t work.

What happened when an Omega never fit; when a pack saw them as an obligation rather than a need.

When the brass, in their infinite wisdom, decided to solve the problem by shuffling you around like spare parts. Filtered from unit to unit, never long enough to settle, never given the chance to belong.

And worst of all? You’d adapted.

Not by fighting, not by demanding more. But by shrinking, folding in on yourself until you were nothing but the quiet echo of what an Omega in a safe, happy pack was supposed to be.

Just there.

The pack that surrounded you now- they didn’t even see it. Didn’t even try to see it. Didn’t see the way you moved like something brittle, your frame wiry with stress, dark circles permanent beneath your eyes. Didn’t notice how you flinched away from casual touches, how you never leaned into their space, never initiated anything that would suggest you trusted them.

And the worst part?

They didn’t care enough to fix it.

They let you waste away in silence, let you wither under scrutiny, let you fight battles alone that no one was meant to fight.

But they saw you.

They saw the way your fingers trembled during sparring when you thought no one was looking. They saw the way you curled into yourself at night, scent so faint it barely registered, as if your body had long since given up trying to find something familiar. They saw the bruises you never spoke about, the exhaustion you never complained about, the way you never asked for anything.

And in their eyes, that just wouldn’t do; you weren’t meant to be hollow, nor were you meant to be discarded.

You were meant to be held.

So if no one else was going to fix this- if no one else was going to remind you of what it meant to be wanted- then they damn well would.

Before the mission with your current pack was nearing an end, Brass receives a request from John to have you transferred to them.

[sanesaviour]

Spidey🕸️🕷️

yea, it’s head cannon time:

1. at fist he doesn’t get along with team, they are pretty weak team due to lack of teamwork but after fist year Peter becomes really good leader, he knows everyones strong side and how to push them to do their best

2. only team member who isn’t afraid to argue with Fury

3. Peter feels guilty about everything that happened to Harry, the whole Venom incident messed them up but even after Harry stopped talking to him Peter never really stopped seeing Harry as his closest friend (he always stares at him when he sees him in hallway and thinks about what could he done differently)… MJ tries to make them talk about it even tho she really don’t know what happened between them

4. when he get’s higher score on test than Ava he pretends he doesn’t had to study at all (even tho he studied all night long) just to annoy her,… even tho they are good friends they never study together due to their academic rivalry… also Ava is probably only one who can keep Peter in line besides MJ and aunt May

5. genuinely likes to spend time with Danny because he finds him so calming, even more after his and Harrys friendship fell appart. also when Peter found out that Danny is insanly rich he was angry about all the time he let him buy food without anything in return when they were hanging out (before that Peter thought that he is just teenage boy who have 0 knowlage about concept of money since he spend most of his life in k’un-lun)… also Danny is only one who doesn’t get annoyed with Peter’s jokes

6. Sam and Peter have most chaotic team ups, whether they work together on mission or school project it’s guaranteed to end in something exploding, a crazy amount of collateral damage or Fury looking so done

7. always gets post battle snacks with luke, they have tradition of hitting up fast food spot after mission, Luke always orders enough food for three people while Peter scarfs down with ridiculous amount of fries (when others are with them sam usually tries to steal some, but Luke blocks him)… also Peter likes to annoy luke just for fun, he likes to make terrible puns or tries to web Luke’s snacks away, he finds it hilarious when Luke gives him that deadpan “really?” look

8. Peter is low-key jealous that MJ is so effortlessly cool while he is sometimes human disaster, she is his best friend and he starts to value their friendship more after that incident with Harry… and no matter what, MJ and Peter will be always friends first even if things gets sometimes bit complicated

9. he refuses to swear, instead of cursing he says something like what the web lol and accidentally called Fury “dad” several times

This took me way too long to write… Anyways feel free to ask anything ;))

[luvyeni]

( SPOOKTOBER ) little witch ̨ ! 🦇 一 지젤 ՞

𝓟 airings. succubus!giselle x witch!reader wc. 0.7k

🕸️◞ WARNINGS. loss of virginity, oral sex ( reader receiving ), tribbing, dirty talk

「 ♱ authors note 」 happy spooktober everyone!! started off with one of my true loves im surprised i never wrote for her

maybe you should've listened to your other witch friends when they said don't summon the sex demon — yeah you were a witch, but a young dumb virgin witch and this was a succubus; they basically ate young dumb virgins like you for dinner.

so you ignored their warnings; you sat up everything you needed , laying out all the things you would need to summon the demoness , following everything by the book; what you didn't expect to pass out right where you sat on your bedroom floor.

when you awoke; you were in your bed, unable to move. “huh?” you were paralyzed , unable to move your legs. “poor stupid little witch.” you heard the voice of another woman in your room. “you'd think a witch would be smart enough to summon such a demon like me.” you felt a hand on your ankle. “wh-who are you?”

“you know what i am little witch , you summoned me.” she giggled seductively , her hands slowly moving up your thigh , her frame finally coming into your vision. “and you know exactly what i want.” she smirked , her tail swishing behind her. “no pants , you were practically waiting for me little witch.” you whimpered feeling her cup your cunt. “oh a virgin.” she smiled. “i can smell you, i love virgins.”

she was now on top of you; eyes a glowing red. “is that why you summoned me , to take your virginity?” you felt her grinding down on you. “dumb little witch , i could easily kill you.” she moaned. “but im not.” she said , kissing behind your ear. “wh-why?” you moaned. “because i can practice smell that sweet virgin pussy , begging for me to use it.”

that's how you found yourself trapped; pinned down by the demon , unable to use your powers as the red eyed demon lapped at your poor cunt. “pl-please.” you could move your legs; arms pinned to the bed as she pulled multiple orgasms out of you with her tongue. “to-too much!” you squealed. “pl-please , gonna cum again.”

you yelped feeling the creature bite on your clit; you've never had sex before , but you had a feeling that you'd never feel anything like what you were currently feeling. “fuck!” you screamed out cumming all over the demonesses again; losing count after the 4th time. “shit!”

you were exhausted; you felt like you wouldn't be able to cum again. like she could read your mind — which she probably could , pulled away. “uh uh little witch , i'm not done yet.” she said, toying with your clit. “your poor cunt all puffy.” she said teasingly. “gonna give me one more.” within a flash, her clothes were gone , and she was straddling your waist. “gonna drain all your energy little witch.”

her cunt on yours , dragging back and forth , her spiky tail coming up to your throat, wrapping around it , lifting you up. “fuck little witch.” she moaned. “for a virgin , you're dripping like a whore.” you gasped out. “please.” she smirked , her perky tits bouncing in your face. “all fucked out for me , i’m gonna ruin you for other girls.”

she began to move her hips faster , removed her tail from around your neck , allowing you to fall against the bed , the appendage coming in between your legs , rubbing your clit. “fuck , fuck I'm gonna cum.” she squealed out , her glowing red eyes rolling to the back of her head. “cum for me little witch , cum right fucking now.” the demon ordered. “fuck!”

yanking on your hair as she used to to get herself to completion , and loud moan that made it feel the room was shaking as she came , squirting all over your lower halves. “shit!” she grabbed your tits , squeezing as she slowed down her hips , bending down with a teasing smirk , her red lips , kissing your neck. “just something to remember me by, little witch.”

you woke up the next morning , mind foggy; the dream you had last night was so vivid. you were scared to get up , fearing you still were dreaming , but you had to get ready for the day. sitting up you were able to move; not without pain though. “what the fuck?” you said , basically limping into your bathroom , your familiar meowing at your feet.

you looked inside the mirror , your neck covered in hickeys and scratches — along with a red kiss mark.

so it really wasn't a dream?

©LUVYENI

[cowboylikefaith]

with great power...

art donaldson spiderman! au x reader

summary: stanford has a masked superhero on the loose, and you're trying to crack down on his identity. little do you know, it's your boyfriend art.

warnings: cursing, injuries, reader highkey gets mugged, art is being mysterious af, reader is incredibly oblivious, sappy at the end sorry, not proofread

author's note: HI so this is actually my first time writing a fic ever... but this au idea has been absolutely rotting in my brain for the past week or so and i need to get it out. enjoy!!!!!!

╰🕸️ ₊✧ ﾟ❤️⚬𓂂➢

"dude!" you say barging into art's dorm (not realizing that your poor boyfriend was in the middle of a nap) "look at the topic the newspaper just assigned me. some shithead on campus is doing parkour in a scuba suit, people are calling him 'spiderman'."

art is pulled out of his trance-like state when he hears the name fall out of your mouth. you feel bad after realizing you woke him up, seeing him wipe his tired eyes with a pout on his lips. "hey pretty" he says with a lopsided smirk on his face "what were you talking about? some spider-idiot?" you hop into bed next to him "yeah it's nothing...sorry for waking you up, just go back to bed, 'kay?"

you don't know what's been up with art recently. he rarely returns your calls, he's always tired, and when he's awake, he's either in a rush or incredibly sluggish. you asked patrick about it and he said that the beginning of a new tennis season is wearing both of them down. seems reasonable, right?

now, it's been a few weeks since you were assigned this story, and jess (your senior editor) wants you to photograph and interview this spiderman guy, because apparently he's some kind of campus superhero (returning stolen laptops, helping drunk sorority girls avoid getting hit by cars, the usual) however you have no leads so far.

until one day, tashi tells you a story about how he saved a freshman from the tennis team from being hazed, and you decide to ask your boyfriend about it.

"you don't know anything about a kid named steven mcdonald, do you?" you ask art as you settle down to watch some gossip girl.

"that freshman who survived a hazing incident? yeah, i know of him" he replies as he pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead.

you pull away with furrowed eyebrows "well did he...say...anything about that night?"

"uh no. no, not really" he says (a little distantly) "anyway! i seriously don't understand why serena loves dan so much, nate is obviously the better choice for her."

you roll your eyes sarcastically "wow donaldson...really smooth transition! way to change the subject there honey."

"i'm sorry.." he replies as he plays with your hair "it's just that...i don't want you getting mixed up in that kind of stuff. if you got hurt.." he sighs "i don't know what i'd do with myself"

and so you promise art that you'll stop working on the article...until jess says she'll kick you out of the stanford star if you do.

one night, as you're walking back to your dorm after dinner with tashi and patrick (third wheel much?), a man in a black ski mask suddenly approaches you and orders you to put your hands up.

"give me your fucking heels lady...and your purse!" he demands.

"oh god no" you shut your eyes and groan "please sir, these are really expensive and- and these are manolo blahniks!! my mom bought-"

before you can finish your rambling, you can hear a thud, and when open your eyes, you can see that he's been wrapped up in some web-like substance.

"don't worry, he's not dead" a figure says as he walks out from behind the criminal. you feel like you know him, you can't even see his face but something about him is just so familiar, and you can't put your finger on it. until..

oh my god

"oh my god! you're spiderman! thank you so much, seriously. that guy could've killed me" you say excitedly, forgetting about your past opinions about him.

art- i mean spiderman, chuckles and says that it's no problem, and asks if he could take you back to your dorm.

"yeah! i would love that, thank you." you reply "actually, could i take your photo? i'm doing an article about you for the stanford star." oh and art eats it UP. he's doing stupid poses and acting silly and goofy (just to hear you laugh of course).

you get back to your dorm safely, and spiderart bids you farewell. just before he leaps out your window, he pulls a red stanford cap (one that you've never noticed, and one that looks suspiciously like art's) out of his pocket.

"hey, maybe i'll see you around" he says as he puts the cap on...backwards. something that only art would do. lucky enough for him, you're too tired to notice.

"...and those are the differences between meiosis and mitosis." you're trying to study for another biology exam when all of a sudden you hear a tapping noise on your window.

at first you think it's a bird, or some frat boy trying to piss you off by throwing empty beer cans at your window, but the tapping turns into banging and you start to hear sounds of pain through the glass.

you run to the window and see a boy in a familiar red and blue suit sitting on the windowsill. this time with a huge gash in his side.

"spiderman? oh my god, get inside, what happened?" you ask while scrambling for a first aid kit. art falls onto your bed, unknowingly bleeding all over your new floral sheets. he groans and holds his side, mumbling something about...well god knows what.

art protests as you try to patch up the very open wound by his waist. "you're just like my boyfriend art," you say with a grin "he gets all fucked up during his tennis matches and doesn't let me help him out." you can hear him through the mask but you can't tell if it's a laugh or a whimper.

"jesus- how long is this going to take? i have an econ final to study for" he says with a wince. "not very long if you sit still, spiderboy" you retort "why don't you take off your mask? you must be dying with that thing on."

you feel his face, and it feels...familiar. you slowly take off the mask, and reveal art's lips, sculpted nose, blue and brown eyes, and tousled blonde hair.

suddenly you realize. you realize the reasons for the missed calls, hurried kisses, and rain-checked dates. all this time you've been thinking that it was tennis kicking his ass, when really art was kicking other people's.

"hi honey" art mumbles, same lopsided, boyish smile that you fell in love with gracing his face "i'm sorry. i should have told you." before you can say anything, he kisses you and sneaks his hands to the small of your back. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as he pulls you into his lap.

"i missed you" you say, pulling away with a pout. you card your hands through his blonde curls. "i know, i know, i'm sorry pretty girl, it's just that...i don't want you to worry about me." art replies, pushing your hair away from your face.

you flick his forehead. "you dumbass. of course i'm going to worry about you, whether you like it or not...because i like you. a lot. no matter what kind of freaky superpowers you have." art lets out a weak chuckle, then he kisses you like a man stuck in the desert for 40 days. you can feel him drawing small circles along your hips and caressing your thumb.

you pull away one last time. "now tell me spiderboy...how did you go from tennis team captain to stanford superhero?"

[dearlyd3parted]

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

🕸️syp: Mark Lee is many things; A 2nd year college student, A stressed Stark Industries intern, Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, and also your childhood friend. He's also a secret fifth thing, a loser hopeless romantic who's been in love with you for years. Due to his inexperience, it takes him two failed attempts at a confession until the third is finally a charm. 🕸️mark lee x fem!reader - (127 centered) biggest idiots in love u will ever read 🕸️feat: a bit of nct dream, xiaojun from wayv, and yunjin from lsrfm cause mother 🕸️word count: total 26.2k 🕸️warnings: some profanity (mark is very stressed ok), descriptions of injuries (blood, cuts, bruises), light angst, mostly just misunderstandings and such, brief mention of smoking, eventual smut 🕸️authors note: ok i genuinely had so much fun writing this one i love mark so much and i live to push the spidermark agenda. i don't follow any exact mcu plot. just inspired more heavily by tom holland cinmenatic universe! also he has glasses in this fic, i know canonically spiderman has perfect vision but idc i have a nerd agenda to push ;p i've only proofread once, so pls bear with any typos. to my current followers who were waiting on me to post, i spent a lot of time on this one so that is why content is delayed, but i hope it makes up for it! im doing more piwon next! i really like this one and hope u do too. pls reblog and like and follow for more ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ 🕸️chapter index: chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 tags🏷:

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷: 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢 - wc: 8.3k

Mark Lee has always been sure of his identity.

It seems that since birth he has had a very firm grasp on himself, what his personality is like, what he wanted in his future, what he wanted in the very moment. Mark has never been a mystery to him.

When he was in the 6th grade, he knew he was a buzzing personality. He knew he was a jokester, always smiling, always laughing, even when the moment didn't call for it. He knew that he loved to talk about anything, really. He could spend hours talking an unsuspecting classmate's ear off about his favorite subjects (math and english, never science), the video game he just played, or some cool new thing one of his favorite superheroes did.

However, because of his...as one would put it in kind terms, passion for life and anything that excited him slightly, he had a hard time making friends. Sure, he had some, the same handful of guys who had been perpetually stuck with each other since elementary school, but making new ones was the problem.

It was at that point that Mark realized he is also a people pleaser from time to time. Especially at 12 years old when everyone is dying to fit in. So, in order to get some of his peers to find him...not annoying, he tried to mimic their personalities.

Mark amped up the snarky-ness and the sassiness, changed his look to what could best replicate what was popular at the time, and started talking about Tony Stark maybe 30% less (That really was the best he could do).

And surprisingly....it worked. For a bit there, he was thinking he might slowly climb his way up from whimsical nerd to just some dude. God, he wanted to be just some dude so badly.

Then one day he saw you.

You sat alone on the end of a lunch table, a pizza lunchable in front of you as you clicked away on your DSI, seemingly playing...Pokémon? Of course, adorned with a Star Wars backpack sat right next to you. He shuddered a bit at the sight, but not negatively. He just really wished that was him instead of what he was currently doing, trailing behind the kids who play basketball after school with an immense 'cool kid' vibe to them.

Mark took immediate note at how they snickered at you, the word nerd being thrown around being most obviously about you. As he gripped onto his tray, a sly smile masking an internal panic on his face, he figured it was a perfect time to prove himself as he followed his pack leaders.

Mark cleared his throat as he approached you, ready to strike. "Nice backpack, Young Jedi." He snickered, his voice as condescending as he could make it out to be when addressing a really cool backpack.

You paused your game with a swiftness, swiveling around to look at him, not an ounce of offense on your face. Without a beat, your deadbeat expression bounced back.

"Nice bowl cut, loser.”

Needless to say, Mark didn’t make the cut for just some dude. He would be staying a talkative and giggly nerd for a while, he was sure of that fact about himself. He knew that was him. It was okay, though, because he didn’t want friends who he couldn't be himself around. After that whole facade, he knew he wasn’t the nonchalant cool guy he tried to resonate with.

He also knew that after a thorough and heavy apology his friend Taeyong had made him give you, he had just met someone who he resonated with a lot more.

He knew he was your new friend.

(To which you only agreed because of his Captain America themed backpack. Besides, your jab at his bowl cut that truly was awful made it even.)

A year later, he was certain that you were his best friend. Maybe it was a bit selfish that he had so many best friends, you including his flock of seven other boys who had just become stuck to each other.

But…there was something different about you. Like you were his ultra best friend, if thats a thing. After the initial awkwardness of your first meeting, the friendship only soared. Helping each other with homework, rewatching ‘Star Wars: Revenge of The Sith’ for the 30th time, fangirling over Tony Stark and the avengers. He never thought he would meet a girl that understood him so well, and in turn who he understood, too.

Until the 7th grade, he couldn’t quite place what it was that was so different. You were integrated into his group of friends, he didn’t treat you any differently and you didn’t with him. Yet, for some reason, he was happier when you were around, and even happier when it was only the two of you.

His heart was a mixture of things every time he made a joke and you laughed because of him. It had also dawned on him that even if you and him had your many similarities, you were still more reserved and cautious when it came to other people. Despite that, you seemed comfortable around him, enough to confide in him and share whatever you wanted to.

So, when you confided in him tearfully that the boy you had wanted to attend the spring formal with was going with another girl, as your best friend he decided to step in and take you himself to cheer you up.

Seeing you a bit happier at the outcome of that night, wearing a navy blue dress he remembers oh so vividly as the colorful lights seemed to be illuminating your smile, his heart sank to his stomach. That was when it had hit him what had been so different about you.

Mark knew that he liked you. He liked you terribly.

He knew he liked you as he danced with you, his hands tenaciously at your shoulders as you thanked him with a smile for not letting you come alone. He knew he liked ever since you started to feel ‘different’ in the best way possible, and he knew he would keep liking you for a long, long time.

And that is exactly what he did.

Middle school passed by in a flash, and he never liked you any less. In fact it was impossible to not like you more. You, who was always on his side through all his phases, who brought an extra sandwich from home to share with him at lunch, who gifted him the missing star wars comic in his collection for his birthday, who defended him against all the snickers and teases of the rest of the friend group, who was the cutest girl he would ever be blessed to see, who joined the academic decathlon in highschool so he wouldn’t be alone. How could he not crush on you harder?

Just because he liked you so much, didn’t mean that he rushed to act on it. Quite honestly, when he first realized all these feelings were heavy to hold and the only way to let go of them was to confess, he had a nervous breakdown. What would he even say? What would you say? How would he even explain this to you? You were always so headstrong and focused, would a measly schoolboy crush even appeal to you? Was this the end of the world?

Once he calmed down, however, he realized that there was no rush to explain the feelings he himself couldn’t even muster to say aloud. All that mattered is that you were in his life, and he was in yours. And he was pretty damn content with that. Maybe in the future, if he still felt so much and he had gotten much more confident, he’ll be able to tell you. At the moment, 15-year-old and sophomore in highschool Mark had no rush at all.

And then, he was bit by a spider.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal spider. Because god forbid anything ever be normal in Mark’s life. One morning, he woke up with body muscle his lanky limbs did not have when he went to sleep and a strength that broke his desk bunk bed in half. If it wasn’t obvious something was off, his glasses stuck on his hand for the better part of an hour sure confirmed it.

Yup, Mark knew it. He had turned into some sort of a Spiderman.

At least, that’s what he called it. It’s what he decided to go by when a very confused passerby asked him who he was as Mark saved his bike from a thief. A quick sew of some blue and red fabric with a poorly stitched on symbol, and he was putting these powers to test.

He had a good run making a name for himself on Youtube under this ‘Spiderman’ pseudonym. It was a blissful first few months, figuring out the basics of his powers, slamming into the wall maybe only a handful of times, fighting neighborhood crime in a heroic way that he used to only be able to gawk at the avengers doing.

However, ignorance is bliss. Mark couldn’t possibly be ignorant to the way that he was making enemies who didn’t like the interference with their crimes all over queens, and fast. He especially couldn’t ignore it when a particular petty group of criminals had hit rookie Spiderman with everything they had, and the bliss ended as he limped away his first gruesome fight he had managed to win with his life.

As he dragged his way across the city, whimpering and crying as the universe decided to make his first terrible day on the job even worse with rain, he was aware of how roughed up he was, he needed help.

He couldn’t just go to his Aunt and tell her her 15 year old nephew had been putting his life in danger for the last few months. He couldn’t go to the hospital and risk exposing the identity he tried so hard to protect. He certainly couldn’t let his rowdy friends know by showing up to Taeyong’s apartment.

So he found himself barely making it up to your fire escape, knocking with the last bit of strength he had to get your attention from your Calculus homework to his figure in the window. He was limp and a mess of “i’m sorry”’s and “i don’t know where to go”’s as you pulled him in, speechless at the sight in front of you.

You didn’t get angry, you weren’t annoyed, you didn’t ask him a million questions. You only bandaged his wounds, and offered open arms as he cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore.

As Spiderman Mark gripped your hoodie, his tears staining it with salt, he knew he felt safe. God, he always did with you.

He knew that he loved you. Because honestly, wasn’t it impossible not to?

The revelation that he was in love with you didn’t come with much shock, if he asked 6th grade Mark if he knew this day would come, the answer would without any doubt be a yes.

It did come at a turning point in his life, however. He met Tony Stark, got suited up with Stark Industry gear that made every nerd crevice in his mind vibrate, fought with the avengers, nearly joined the avengers, accidentally revealed himself to his aunt, and then his other 7 friends, fought against avenger-level-threat villains, and quickly rose as one of the most famous heroes around.

Throughout everything, he never loved you any less. And even through his trials and tribulations as he settled in this neighborhood Spiderman identity, you never strayed from being his best friend. He didn’t need anything else to feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Except, maybe an answer to the dying question he wanted to know for years and years. Was he just your best friend? Or has he always been something more? On the few times you’ve told him something along the lines of, ‘I will never care about anyone like I do about you, Mark’, (And no, he actually didn’t memorize that one word for word) Did it also mean what he has always meant, or was he just dear to you in the friendliest way possible?

Although Mark was older, 18 years old and graduating from highschool, he still had that same mindset he had as an angsty new teenager. His feelings for you only weighed more and more in tons and tons over the years, especially since he was able to name it as love. Yet, he found it hard to explain why he still hadn’t felt any rush to act on them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, even if anyone who would hear his logic might think it was. As he watched you say goodbye to peers and friends at graduation from a distance, happiest as ever in your cap and gown as you were set to attend MIT with him in the fall, he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He dreamt of it some nights, actually. He hadn’t known you his whole life, but for some reason, it felt like you were always there. When he had that stupid bowl cut, when he tried out for the soccer team and made a fool of himself, when he got his first B on an english paper, when he got bit by that spider and bit off more than he could chew, when he was applying for college and decided to major in computer science and engineering, you were there.

As you pranced back to him as you finished saying your farewells, he couldn’t help but think it would always be this way. You had him, and he had you. The night you both graduated, you both sat on a rooftop, staring at queens under you as you shared a pizza. Naturally, it felt like you would always be there. You were just natural.

Despite that, It had been nearly seven years since he first met you. Nearly seven years since he told himself he would confess when the time was right, when he was more confident and hopefully a little bigger.

He was definitely taller, and involuntarily grew some muscle. Luckily, his hair hadn’t seen the after effects of a bowl cut in years. His voice didn’t squeak when he talked to you or any girl for that matter, and he liked to think he was 10% less of a nerd. At least, enough to be charming when it counted.

So as you both left highschool for your first year at NYU, he decided he checked a sufficient amount of boxes to go for it. However, it was clearly going to be harder said than done. Just seeing you the night after he made up his mind that the time has finally come, his forehead was slick with nervous sweat and somehow he walked right into a pole. Your questioning about why his ‘Mark tingle’ hadn’t worked–which is what you had named his 6th spider-sense–didn’t help not one bit.

Truth is, it was terrifying. He didn’t know why. He had fought against intergalactic villains and catched runaway trains with his bare hands. Yet a simple ‘I’m madly in love with you’ was too much for him to handle.

Mark composed himself, running it through his mind during every late night patrol. He was going to do it, and soon. First, he had to get over the initial fear. After that, love sparks would fly.

Soon turned into weeks later, then months, and then an entire year. Before Mark could blink, it was the 2nd year of university and the ‘initial’ fear seemed to be a perpetual one.

In his defense, the first year of college was very busy. The both of you were buried in the books, biochemical and computer science engineering not being easy majors, and of course trying to maintain extracurriculars. Mark with his Stark Industries internship, that both was still a pseudonym for Spiderman duties, and this time around an actual internship he had begged Mr. Stark for. You, with the school's Debate team and interning wherever it counted and wherever paid.

Mark would be a liar if he said there was absolutely no time, though. A plus to the both of you being the unassuming and socially awkward nerds all throughout the years meant that you didn’t peak in highschool. University could be a time to blossom, be more social, enjoy the journey a little more, maybe attend a party or two.

Watching you in this beaming light as you entered a new chapter of your life, an enigma shining more than ever, it only intimidated Mark even more. Which is why his after-graduation-confession plans had stretched out a whole year later.

Mark never felt like he was losing you, though. Losing his mind? Most definitely, but not you. You were closer than ever, Mark was content.

Telling himself that he had you on his side through everything, and he would continue to have just that is what helped him sleep at night. He would stop being a coward eventually, and just like the movies, the sun would shine a halo around you, his eyes would meet yours, and he could finally confess. Time, there was lots of it, right?

Wrong. Again, it seemed like Mark’s reality was always perpetually shifting or going the opposite direction that he was aiming for.

Today, he found himself standing outside of one of the many NYU buildings, waiting for your cell biology class to be done with. It had become a habit to him to make sure you got back to your apartment safely after classes that ran into the evening, claiming that as the resident neighborhood spiderman, it was his duty to escort you. Even though in reality, you were capable of getting around just fine, and this was just another excuse for Mark to spend even more time with you.

He was wiping down his glasses when he heard the door open and you walked out, tired out from a full day of classes. He wasted no time putting on his glasses back on, making sure he caught every bit of you. Mark always thought you looked best like this, hair down and tousled in comfy clothes, today a cardigan and some baggy jeans, the night making your features even softer.

You smiled despite your weariness, waving at him, and Mark smiled right back. “Hi, Mark.” you said, walking up to him as you clutched onto your bag.

Mark reached for it, slinging it over his shoulders, the heaviness of textbooks and all your other supplies being nothing to him. “Y/n! How was your day?” He asked enthusiastically.

You stared at him with those eyes you get, sighing as you looked down. “It was alright…I got assigned two group projects, though. I mean, two, seriously? In the first month of school?” You complained and talked with your hands like you always did when you were angry, as you both started walking, Mark listening to every word.

Mark inhaled sharply, making a face at the thought. “Yikes. Two on the same day is some luck. My operating systems professor said we would have a group project soon as well, but at least we get to choose our partners.”

You pouted up at him, finding your situation unfair. “We can’t even have that luxury. I don’t know any of the people I was assigned with.” You complained with a frustrated sigh.

Mark sympathized with you, knowing how unfortunate that must be, but when you looked so expressive and adorable as you complained, it was hard for his heart to stay still in its cage. “That really does sound like it sucks. I hope they aren’t rude or some slackers.”

You shook your head looking off at the city in front of you, when all Mark could do was look at you. “I don’t think they will be too bad. The group project for cell bio, I got this one guy…Xiaojun, I think, for a partner. He seems like he’ll be a big help.”

Mark’s head tilted, his glasses tilting in the process. “Mm, really? How so?”

You looked at Mark with a pursed smile, shrugging at the recollection. “He’s very receptive, first to offer to help with research. Gave me his number so I could call him ‘if anything’, so I gave him mine as well. He’s nice, a little too nice maybe, but nice.”

Mark felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat, he hadn’t heard of you and any other guy in ages. He didn’t want to. As he took in what you had said, recognizing the name of a pretty well-known school heartthrob, exchanging numbers with him, and even the whispered fact of him being too nice, he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Surely it couldn’t be that this Xiaojun was…taking an interest in you?

Mark had to make sure as he forced down the lump that prevented him from speaking. “Ah…so sounds like…he’s flirting with you.”

You both came to a stop at an intersection. You pondered your words as Mark stared at you, reading your every visible thought. “It seems like it. He’s a nice guy but I'm not interested if that is the case…because…” You said, your words trailing off as you looked at Mark with a distant look in your eye and shrugged after a moment. “I guess, I don’t have a reason to not be interested. Should at least hear the guy out, I suppose.”

Mark’s heart sank to the floor in record speeds. And he’s jumped off of buildings. As the light turned from the orange hand to the walking man, he stalled a few seconds, shaking off this new dread as he jogged a little to match your pace. “H-hear him out? So you…you like him?”

You giggled a bit, shaking your head with a smile. “I didn’t say that. I just met the guy. All I’m saying is I’ve always said no, no, no, and no. Maybe it’s time to move…Uh, I mean, to stop saying no so quickly.”

All Mark could process in that sentence is that there were others that you had to say no to. As he looked down at the sidewalk he was strolling on, his world view seemed to crack a bit. He had always known how amazing you were. Your eyes an ocean he wanted to sail. Your hair framing you in the most flattering way. Your sarcasm and humor that brightens his day. Your drive. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your generosity. Should he keep going? He could, he could spend days listing everything that was right in you. It had just never dawned on him that other hormonal and sappy guys like him could do the same and act on it. Worse, that you could entertain it.

“As in…look for someone?” Mark asked, his voice sounding pathetic beyond his control.

You sighed, staring off at the distance, not wanting to look at him. “I don’t know…it’s just…something I've been thinking about. It feels like I'm overdue to try my hand at this whole love thing…”

Overdue. Overdue. Is that really how you felt? Mark supposes you have both gone your whole lives without dating someone. At this point in your lives, that can be considered a while. Mark had never felt like he was lacking in that category, love, because he had so much of it for you. You didn’t know that, though, and now you felt overdue.

Mark’s palms were sweaty as he gripped the straps of both of your bags. “There’s…no rush, though, right...?” He questioned, trying to preach his own stupid, stupid anthem.

You nodded, a bit solemnly if he had to add, looking up at him with a strange mix of a smile and pout. “You’re right. No rush.”

Mark sighed a breath of relief. A relief that didn’t last long as you spoke up again. “But there’s also no reason to push it away anymore.”

Mark had so many questions, such as why were you set on ‘pushing it away’ until now, where the hell did this Xiaojun come from, how it can be possible that a certainty he awoke with this morning can crumble a mere few hours later, and how he could possible be so stupid, stupid, stupid, cowardly, and naive?

Mark inhaled a sharp breath, trying to stabilize himself. He wanted to freak out, he wanted so badly to bring the both of you to a halt and grab your hands, begging for you to not even think about this. However, that would also be stupid, and if he showed that he was anything short of understanding during this conversation, you would never share anything like this with him again. Then, he would be completely in the dark about your apparently beginning love life.

“If…that’s what you want.”

Stupid. Idiot. Buffon.

There it was again, that forced smile that Mark was too busy internally panicking to notice himself. “He hasn’t even said anything that confirms the suspicion. But…I’ll see. I’ll figure out what it is that I want.”

Mark nodded, trying to play it cool as his fingernails dug into his palm. He didn’t even notice that you had arrived at the train station, standing in front of the train that took you home.

You looked up at him, smiling softly as you reached up to flick hair out of his face. It didn’t help the melting pot that was his current emotions. “You texted early that you wanted to get an early patrol. You should go get ready. I’ll be okay from here.”

Mark normally would have shaken his head no immediately, insisting that he take you all the way to your front door. Today however, he felt as if the longer he spent around you, the closer he was to losing it. “You sure? I really don’t mind-” is all he managed to say as you cut him off.

“Positive. I can join you on comms later tonight. Gotta get some homework done first.” You said, looking back as the train started to pull into a stop. “You go get ready. And eat something or you’ll be off your game. Last time you went out hungry you nearly crashed in an office window.”

Mark chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking to himself that of course only you could make him laugh and make him want to yell in such a short span. “Aye-aye captain, I’ll do that. You better go before the train leaves.”

You nodded, taking back your bag from him and waving. “I’ll come to yours tomorrow. We have o-chem in the morning. We can swing there?”

Mark smiled, as best as he could by this point, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll swing there. Text me when you’re home.”

You shot a thumbs up as the train doors opened and you rushed to get in. “I will, bye Mark! Careful!”

His heart warmed, you had always told him to be careful, no matter the hundreds and hundreds of times he must have gone out now. It wasn’t enough to make him unball his fists though. “Bye, Y/n.” He said back, missing its added sense of joy.

He watched as you walked in, taking a seat and looking back at him once. He didn’t even have the guts to stand there and watch you leave, looking back twice before he was sprinting up the subway stairs and running down the street.

The slight chill in the night felt even colder as he ran, wind blowing smack in his face, but he kept running until he found an alleyway, running deep into it until he was out of sight, away from any pedestrian eyes. The cuff Mr. Stark had given him came in handy at times like these, when all he wanted to do was be suited up as soon as he could, His heart wouldn’t stop racing as the press of a button had him in his full spider-suit. He tightened his backpack onto himself, and he was off, shooting himself up in the air, and running across a ledge before throwing himself off.

He didn’t even react as he reached closer to the ground than normal, shooting a web to divert his fall just in time. Even when he was swinging way too fast, weaving through buildings and poles and cars. All he could think about you and your words. When he woke up in the morning, he thought he had time, lots of it. Now as dusk falls over and the cars underneath him couldn’t be as loud as his thoughts, he finds out he doesn’t. Or perhaps he did, and now it had run out on him.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

“So, the last thing I said was, ‘I’ll figure out what it is that I want,’ and then we got to the train station.” You finished explaining to your roommate, Yunjin, as she sat on the opposite side of the couch.

You had only met Yunjin last year, but she already felt like one of your best friends you had ever made because of how easy it was to tell her all of your problems. Of course, you already had one of those, Mark Lee, who had been wreaking havoc in your life since you had first caused him to become the laughingstock of the popular kids back in 6th grade. But you couldn’t tell him absolutely all of your problems. Especially the biggest one, that you had always had a strange sense of infatuation for him that you expected to go away, yet here you were.

If you had to pinpoint when it began, you would say when he knocked on your window sophomore year of high school, bloodied and in the famous original spiderman costume. Mark had always been loveable, long before he got bit by that spider. It was what you liked most about him, his ability to always see the positive, to always somehow wear a smile and a laugh. In someone like that, it takes the utmost trust for them to allow the most vulnerable parts of themselves to be seen.

So, it wasn’t the suit that made you realize what you had felt. Even if you had been a major Spiderman fan and the revelation was only a little life changing, that was the last thing on your mind. He was hurt, he was scared, and he needed someone, and his first thought was you.

You thought it was a fluke, feeling so much for someone so unexpected. Surely, it was bound to go away. Yet, it didn’t. The feeling was nagging and adamant, just like Mark, and refused to let go.

After some time, you came to terms with the fact that nothing about it was unexpected at all. Since you met Mark, you spent every waking moment with him. Going to your first hero convention, building the Lego death star you got for your birthday, the school trip to Venice, middle school dances, high school dances, all of it was Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark. Every memory, the good and bad, that held a special place in your heart had Mark. How was he not to become special as well?

You thought about coming straight out with it, hoping to get closure or acceptance or anything that would help maim the feeling of overflowing love. However, Mark wasn’t just Mark anymore, he was Spiderman. While the latter didn’t matter much to you, it had become a part of who he was. With his great powers, came great responsibility. Not just that, but it seemed like him almost dying every other weekend had become his new reality. While it was stressful watching Mark go through all of that, even as you became his girl-in-the-chair of sorts to help him on patrols, you couldn’t imagine how stressful it was for Mark for himself. It felt unfair to throw a confession on top of everything he already had to deal with.

So, you decided if anything were to happen between you two, Mark would have to initiate it.

While you may have kept it better under wraps, Mark always wore his emotions on his sleeves. It would take an outstanding idiot to not notice the way he acted around you. The way his ears go pink before his cheeks do, the way on occasion he’ll forget to respond as he stares in a trance, or he’ll fumble with whatever object he has in his hand. Mark had always had those awkward, loser-ish tendencies, but it was undeniable at how they seemed to be at their worst whenever you were around.

He had to have at least entertained the idea. So, therefore it was just a waiting game. When Spiderman was ready to take that leap, so were you.

You waited, and waited, waited, and waited, and waited some more. Suddenly, the second year of university came, and you were still waiting.

Honestly, it had brought you down that no moves were made as you graduated high school. Needless to say, that the fact he was still radio silent when entering university only made you more discouraged and had you wondering if your premonition was wrong after all.

Your new roommate turned friend, however, was quick to catch onto your gloominess, and almost immediately connected the dots that it was about Mark.

Since you caught her up on everything she needed to know, while of course keeping Mark’s secret locked away, she had become a trusted person to confide in. As opposed to your clear inexperience, Yunjin had more experience on her love life resume, and was always at bay with advice.

Her recent advice being something that she believed would speed up the process, to display your availability, and to flaunt that you were planning on using it. In whatever form that may be.

So, when Xiaojun exchanged numbers with you, (and in your defense, was indeed being a little too friendly) it was the perfect opportunity to test the theory.

That is how you found yourself here, playing the conversation back and forth amongst each other to try and decipher if it worked.

Yunjin groaned, hand coming down to smack the pillow in her lap. “‘I’ll figure out what it is that I want.’ You guys are impossible. It is crystal clear what you both want.” She said with a shake of her head. “Is that really all he said? ‘If that’s what you want?’ How did he…I don’t know, was he panicky or shaky or anything?”

You thought about it with a sigh, shrugging. “I mean, I guess he was a little. At the stop walk he…almost forgot to move? But he had just come from that Stark internship, he’s always like that after it. Like a deer in headlights.”

Yunjin sighed as well, biting her bottom lip in thought. “Okay, this is good. This is a good start. We’ll just have to ramp up the Xiaojun thing and eventually, he’ll be forced to crack.”

You smiled, a little bittersweetly, your hands clenched together. “I hope it plays out like that…otherwise all this for nothing.”

Yunjin could read you like a book, a superpower of hers Mark didn’t always have, ironically. “Not for nothing. You know, you could always say something.”

You looked up at her with a knowing look, shaking your head with a sigh. “You know I can’t. He’s got too much to deal with, he’s literally sp…super busy. With school and the stark internship. I just can’t.”

Yunjin nodded as she stood up, taking the memo not to pry any further. “Alright, I hope this works then, for the sake of you both.” She said as she grabbed your face in her hands jokingly. “Seriously. I’m sick of looking at it.”

You swatted her hand away, chuckling. You hoped it worked too. With your whole being.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark landed on the roof of his apartment that night exhausted from a full day of work followed by an evening patrol. Crime was quiet lately, with his biggest cases today being a measly shoplifter and a cat stuck in a tree. The type of quiet that came before a storm. Mark had too much on his mind to think about that, however. All of which involves you.

He deactivated his suit and found himself back in regular clothes, waltzing his way down the rooftop access stairs, all the way to his apartment on the 6th floor. 

He came in fidgety and anything but calm, seemingly too pumped with adrenaline and emotion to be as tired as he usually is after days like this.

Mark had the opportunity to be roommates with two of his friends, Johnny and Doyoung. Luckily for him and unluckily for his friend, Johnny was sitting on the couch, a gaming controller in his hands as he looked up to see the ball of nervousness make its way into the once mellow apartment. “Hey, Mark.” Johnny greeted, not talking his eyes off the TV. “You wanna play overwatch? Doyoung’s out for the night.”

Mark could barely register the question, his backpack slamming on the kitchen table as he plopped down on the couch next to Johnny. “What? No, no. I’m good, don’t wanna play. I have to talk to you, though.”

Johnny sighed, not taking his eyes off the screen. If his hands weren’t so busy, he’d probably grab his head too. The subject was painfully obvious. “What’s up?”

Mark sat back, looking at the ceiling. “Y/n. I messed up. So bad, dude.”

Johnny nodded, trying to feign surprise. “I see. How is she by the way? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Mark ran his hand through his hair, shooting the back of Johnny’s head a look at the inappropriate question during his time of stress. “She’s fine, dude. She told me something today.” Mark said, taking a deep breath to begin his rant. “You know, I told you…I’m confessing soon. Or I’m planning to. When I work up to it. I thought…shit. I’m so stupid. I thought she’d wait for me. She doesn’t even know, but I thought she’d wait. Apparently, there’s this dumb guy she has a group project with. Xiaojun, that’s his name. He’s flirting with her, I’m assuming. They exchanged numbers and everything.”

Johnny listened with his eyes a little narrowed, nodding in understanding. “Ah. I know that guy. He’s pretty cool.”

The look on Mark’s face couldn’t be described as anything less than offended. “He is arguably not. I mean…I know people must try to hit on her and stuff, but she was like…all cryptic. Saying things like ‘maybe it’s time to not say no so quickly’ and ‘I’m overdue at this love thing.’ She says she doesn’t like him but…she’s…she’s looking to date right? It’s gotta mean that.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows, fighting the urge to keep playing his game or turn and start shaking Mark by his shoulders. “Listen, Mark. Y/n’s a nice girl, full package, great person, gorgeous as well, and a single college student. Dating is kinda what you do. Especially with someone like Xiaojun.”

Mark’s world couldn’t crumble any faster. If only Doyoung was there instead, he at least would have broken the news a little nicer. “Oh, God. Shit. What…what do I do? She’s gonna start...dating.” He muttered with his hands on his face, glasses pushing up to his head.

Johnny stifled a groan. “Mark, you do what you should’ve done years ago. You just tell her, man.”

Mark didn’t like that answer. Of course, it was the only one that made sense, but he was hoping that someone would have some sort of miracle solution. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“Shouldn’t it be though?” Johnny retorted. “I mean, you’ve known this girl nearly half of your life. She cares about you a lot. You see it, I see it, we all see it. A confession isn’t going to break a bond like this, it can’t. You’ve got to know by now that what you’ve got is stronger than that.”

In the eyes of Mark, what Johnny said went against what every imagined worst-case scenario told him, even if logically it had made sense. You weren’t the type of person to cause a grand thing or make Mark feel bad about something so small. That was inherently the problem, however. Nothing about this was small. Small is the last word he would use to describe how he feels about you. You wouldn’t consider small something that could fill every ocean on earth's surface and then some. “How do I even tell her? I can’t just say ‘I’m in love with you.’” Mark argued, his voice sounding more and more pathetic.

Johnny used a brief moment to shoot a look at Mark, his eyes going back to the TV as he finally put his controller down and completely discarded the match he was in, leaning on his knees. “At this point, that’s exactly what you say. Your problem is that you’re trying to make it too grand, too perfect. Y/n has never been the type to be a stickler for that. It doesn’t matter how you do it, it won’t affect the outcome. If the feelings are there, which if you ask me, I think they are, then they’re there. Plain and simple.” 

Mark felt a lot of things, but at that moment defeat was most prominent. He had been imagining for years how he would confess to you. In one fantasy he would buy a billboard in Times Square and take you to see it, or perhaps he would learn the guitar and write you a song. He could make his own advent calendar, buy you a present everyday each specifically curated to your wants, and on the final day, a beautiful piece of jewelry. You deserved nothing short of perfect, but now he had to ask himself if that was really what you would want, or if he’s trying to pull every string he can for it to work in his favor. 

“So, what do I do…?” Mark said quietly, running his hand through dark hair.

“I just told you. Just tell her. Write her a poem, take her to dinner, or just straight up come out with it. Just tell her, as soon as you can, before it’s too late.” Johnny said, a supportive hand patting Mark’s back. “No more waiting. You’ve run out of time. I’ve told you this before, but I promise you it’ll turn out fine.”

It had been a wild afternoon filled with many unwanted revelations and a nasty swirl of emotions, but the quick conversation had brought Mark to the eye of the storm. He was backed into a corner, with only one way out, and that realization had finally dawned on him. “You’re…you’re right. I have to…as soon as I can.” 

Johnny ruffled Mark’s hair, reaching for his controller. “That’s the spirit. You wanna play Overwatch now?” 

Mark shot up and grabbed his bag from the table. “Nah, I’ll pass. I’m beat. I’ll probably just go to sleep, honestly.”

Johnny nodded as he returned his focus back to the TV. “Night, then. Don’t stare at your ceiling all night.”

Mark scoffed as he called from the hallway. “Wasn’t gonna do that. And goodnight!”

1.

He didn’t stare at his ceiling, but he did stare at his desk and lined paper almost all night. Johnny’s first idea of writing a poem was thrown out there randomly, but Mark didn’t think it was half bad. It was a short read on your end, and easy to get the point across without Mark having to do much talking. So, he wrote away, trying various different styles. From haikus to Shakespearean sonnets, to a ballad, each one frustrating him more and more. He even tried to make his usually sloppy writing neater than usual with cursive.

In his last attempt, he decided to ditch all rules of quatrains, lines, and rhyme schemes and instead write whatever he was feeling in a free verse poem. Finally, he felt the poem was right. Enough to say what he needed yet not including the words he needed to tell you himself. With a sigh, he laid out the poem neatly on his desk, ridding all evidence of his struggle the past hour by clearing off all pens and discarding all crumbled up sheets of paper in a trash can.

Mark found himself staring at it over with pride. Was it cheesy? Yeah. Was Mark a hopeless romantic? Certainly. That is just who Mark is, he knows that. After all these years spent with him, surely you know that too by now.

He was drained by this point, his eye lids that have felt stretched open the past few hours feeling too heavy for him to fight against them. Finally, he flopped on his bed, being able to close his eyes and drift to sleep, with plans to give you the poem laid on his desk the next time he saw you. 

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark didn’t process that he would be seeing you much sooner than he expected. Soon being the next morning that you had set to head to class together. How could he when he was so out of it? He hadn’t felt as physically and emotionally tired as he did yesterday in a while, which consequently probably caused him to sleep through his alarm the next morning. 

So, he slept like a boulder, missing all of your incoming calls and texts saying that you were headed to him, blissfully unaware of the poem laid out on his desk.

Mark still slept like a baby as you arrived at his apartment, and of course Doyoung had let you in without hesitation. It was completely out of his control as you made your way to his room on a mission to wake him up. Mark stirred awake, slowly and whiny, as you shook his shoulder, your voice quiet yet enough to wake him up gently. “Mark…you overslept. Get up now, so we won’t be late.”

Mark groaned, rubbing his eyes as you stepped away from him, your job complete. In Mark’s freshly awoken state, he didn’t see what the problem was as you browsed around his room while he gained consciousness, eventually pulling his desk chair out to sit at. Sitting down, your curious eyes landed on the only thing that was laid out, his poem. Well, your poem.

He sat up, his hands still attacking his eyes, trying to rub the sleep away, and you were already well into reading it. Your face was a scramble of feelings that only grew in perplexion as you read every last word, and even getting the chance to read it twice before Mark realized. After a particularly effective yawn and stretch, his eyes landed on you with your eyes set on the paper. Only then did Mark shoot up on his feet, his limbs stumbling as he decided if he should play it cool or snatch the paper from your hands, his only thought being, “please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it.”

At Mark’s not very subtle reaction, you put the paper down, looking up at Mark from the chair. “That’s…” Is all you managed to say, not being able to choose between the words intense, beautiful, star striking, devoted, or out of place in Mark’s room. So instead, you stayed speechless for a moment, another feeling the poem invoked as you studied his every move. “Did you write that…? For who? Your writing looks different-”

In a split second, Mark was torn between answering your question with a “yes” and several “you, you, you, you, it’s all about you, only about you," ’s which is what he should have done, or lying his head off. 

The image in his mind of you sat in front of him, seeking answers to your questions, looking at Mark like you were searching for something, it seemed to move in slow motion. This was the plan, was it not? He would hand you the poem, and then he would just admit it was about you. You were more than smart enough to piece together what that implied. 

As he cut you off, he hoped that was what came out, a mere couple of words that would be all he needed to say in the moment. However, when has anything ever gone his way?

“I didn’t write it!”

Mark said a little too desperately, wishing he could exit this sack of meat and bones and punch it across the face. “Not my writing. Too neat. I uh…I found it…on my desk! In my coding class! Must be some kind of secret admirer, I think.” He exclaimed, watching as your face went from something that he couldn’t tell was hope to neutrality, drinking in his lie as fast as he had come up with it.

“Oh…well, that’s…wow. They must really like you,” you pondered as your eyes grazed over the paper.

Somehow, the poem that he had poured his heart into for you, had turned into the sign of affection that a made up secret admirer had written for Mark. If you weren’t right in front of him, he’d fall to his knees, grabbing his head in his hands as his first confession attempt results in a failure down the drain. “Yeah…I guess so…”

Turns out, confessing right away was going to be much harder than he imagined.

.   　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

chap. 2

chap. 3

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🕯️ Shadows & Symbolism: The Gothic Writer's Grimoire 🦇

Hello writers! I hope you're all doing well. Autumn is my favorite time of year, and I'm sure many of you love it too. With Halloween just around the corner, I thought it would be nice to start getting into the spirit a bit early. For those of you working on a gothic or fiction book, I wanted to share some themes and symbols to help bring that spooky, gothic, and dark vibe to your writing. 🦇

.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆

🕸️Themes and Symbols for Gothic & Horror Stories🕯️

🌙 The Moon 🌚

Symbol of mystery, the unknown, and the supernatural

Represents the cycle of life, death, and rebirth

Can signify madness, hysteria, and the primal forces of nature

🕷️ Spiders & Webs 🕸️

Symbolize entrapment, deception, and the unseen

Represent the intricate, tangled nature of evil and darkness

Can foreshadow impending doom or the unraveling of secrets

💀 Skulls & Bones 💀

Signify mortality, the fragility of life, and the inevitability of death

Evoke a sense of the macabre, the morbid, and the occult

Can represent the lingering presence of the dead or the afterlife

🖤 Darkness & Shadows 🌑

Symbolize the unknown, the subconscious, and the mysterious

Represent the hidden, sinister forces that lurk in the corners

Can signify a descent into madness or the loss of control

🦇 Bats & Ravens 🦇

Portend ominous events, death, and misfortune

Symbolize the supernatural, the occult, and the Gothic

Can represent messengers from the underworld or harbingers of doom

🕯️ Candles & Flames 🕯️

Signify the fragility of life and the ever-present threat of extinguishment

Represent the struggle between light and dark, good and evil

Can symbolize the human soul, spirituality, and the afterlife

🧠 The Mind & Madness 🧠

Explore the depths of the psyche and the fragility of sanity

Represent the battle between reason and the irrational

Signify the descent into obsession, delusion, and the unknown

🏰 Crumbling Mansions & Castles 🏰

Symbolize the decay of the old order and the erosion of power

Represent the weight of the past and the burden of history

Can signify the collapse of the elite and the rise of the macabre

Use these evocative themes and symbols to craft your next Gothic or horror masterpiece and chill your readers to the bone! 💀 Let me know if want more post related to everything spooky!

.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆.˚⊹.🎃₊˚.˚⊹.🎃₊˚𖦹⋆

Happy Writing! - Rin T. 🍁🎃🍂

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors. 

[orderforbrian]

@jonmartinweek Day 5 - cryptids | webs & weaving

when i saw the prompt webs & weaving i immediately thought about web!martin weaving spiderweb into jon's hair -- unbeknownst to jon who is just too blissed out by getting his hair touched, and apparently too asleep to notice his boyfriend has four hands (and also the, uh, spiders). the progression of gray in his hair is just subtle enough that jon can't make the connection which is perfect for martin who needs to keep track of him

bonus:

[START ID: Two drawings in purple hues of Jon and Web!Martin from a Web AU of The Magnus Archives. Jon is a thin Persian man with medium length, curly dark hair and a beard, all hair streaked with gray. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with shaggy dark hair, a streak of white in one of his bangs, and several beauty marks on his skin. 1st image: Jon lays asleep on top of Martin's chest, his head nuzzled into the crook of Martin's neck. One hand is curled to his chest and the other rests behind Martin's head. He smiles blissfully, feeling perfectly safe while asleep. Martin looks down at Jon with a smile, one eye a bright magenta with a slit pupil. The other side of his face is obscured by Jon's head and shadow. One of Martin's hands holds Jon's hand on his chest, the other draped around Jon's low back. His other two hands have spiderweb wrapped around his fingers, the fingertips pointed into sharp claws. One is close to the nape of Jon's neck, the other held above Jon's head, both with shining white web pulled and connected to the greys in Jon's hair. Jon's hair lifts slightly in the back with the pull of the webbing, other parts curled around Martin's fingers. Several spiders crawl around Martin's skin, notably one across his cheek. Martin says in multiple speech bubbles, "Jon...Jon? Are you asleep? There's spiders in your hair...I'll take that as a yes" with a heart at the end. 2nd image: A simpler drawing, Jon looks into a mirror aghast at the amount of white in his hair, three exclamation points by his head. His arms hover around his hair, and he frustratedly shouts, "Where do all these grey hairs keep coming from?!!". An arrow points to a small drawing of Martin's head, looking to the side with a W smirk, now with eight eyes, says, "I dunno...hehe". End ID.]

[ccobweb]

𝓕eelz ⋮ tate langdon

⨾ “the love i give her is kinda creepy, but fuck it, she orders and i deliver. i could never leave you alone” — lil peep.

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18 mdni!, perv!tate, masturbating (m receiving), stalking, pantie stealing. a/n ᯓ english is not my first language!

 ───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ─────────

Tate and you had a very nice relationship, or at least that’s how he made you see it. But what you didn’t know is that the blonde spied on you all over the house even before you knew about his existence.

It all started when you moved into the house and Tate couldn’t help but be fascinated by your beauty. When that same day you left the box with your clothes in what was previously his old room and then you left, he took the opportunity to rummage into it, finding your underwear and stealing a pair of panties hoping that you thought they had been lost with the move, which became a habit for him.

Another thing that became a habit was watching you while you showered, he couldn’t help but caress his throbbing cock while he watched the warm water fall down your body, caressing your breasts and wetting your hair.

He used to masturbate thinking about you or even seeing you without you knowing, whether you were at home or not. And this was one of those times.

You entered your house after an exhausting day at school and sighed, realising that none of your parents were in your home. You didn’t give it much importance since they would surely keep working and you went up the stairs to finally get to your room.

When you opened the door you got a big surprise when you found your boyfriend lying on your bed, with his legs outstretched and his hand around his cock while sniffing one of your used panties.

The backpack you were holding against your shoulder fell to the floor of the impression; the noise of the impact made Tate realise your presence and quickly sat on your bed trying to cover himself with his hands.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked getting closer to bed slowly, still in shock.

“I... I missed you, I needed to relieve myself,” he replied with a trembling sigh, not knowing how the fact that he was masturbating with your panties would feel for you.

Your hands trembled with nerves, you had never seen anyone masturbate and the most you and Tate had done were sessions of making out and some touching over the clothes, but nothing beyond that. “Do you think I can help you?” You said as you sat on the edge of the bed next to him, observing his hands covering his crotch.

The blonde boy was surprised, he had expected everything but that. He nodded quickly as he pushed his hands away and let his erection be free, crashing into his abdomen while drops of presemen went down the tip.

You had never done this before, but you could imagine how it was going. So you rolled your hand around his dick and began to move it from top to bottom with care not to squeeze too much, to which Tate growled.

“Faster, baby” Tate said grabbing you by the wrist to speed up your movements, you obeyed and followed his guide also squeezing your hand more on his cock.

Tate turned into a mess of moans and gasps, throwing his head back against the back of the bed and causing his fingers to sink into the sheets of your bed.

“Am I doing well?” You asked a little unsure about your actions. “Fuck babe, you’re doing so good for me. Such a good fucking girl” Tate replied between heavy breaths and moans, which relieved you and gave you security in your movements.

You leaned towards him and began to leave kisses and small bites on his neck. Every time your fist reached the tip of his cock, your index finger and thumb squeezed it slightly, causing Tate to whine of pleasure.

“Keep going, I’m almost done honey” The blonde moaned and it only took a couple more pumps for Tate’s cum to shoot at his chest and your hand.

Panting and trying to regulate his breathing, Tate runs a hand through his hair and looks at you smiling. “You did very well, pretty girl” He grabbed your hand that was not stained with his semen and kissed it torso, also caressing it with her thumb. “Now I’m going to take a shower to clean up this disaster, will you come with me?”

You quickly nodded your head and the blonde got out of bed, taking you with him to the bathroom.

 ───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ─────────

mlist , bots , ao3

 c-cobweb 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

ⓘ clarification — this fic was re-uploaded in 2025.

[yanderestarangel]

hihi, i really love your writings so i'm deciding to request. could you do miguel o'hara with an ftm reader- maybe some size kink, possessiveness, breeding, and degradation? thank you and have a great day/night!

𝐔𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐈́. | MIGUEL O'HARA X MALE READER

A/N: thanks for liking my work anon, I hope you like this one too.

🕸️ 》 TW: degradation, size kink, breeding, sex without a condom, ftm reader, male pronouns, biting, possessive sex, dark smut, porn plot, some phrases in spanish, power play.

Miguel was a different spider man and perhaps the most complicated person to deal with in the entire spider society... However, he was a totally different man with you, always praising you for small victories and missions ── in an extremely possessive and strange way , after all, what differentiated you from others?... But for him, you were perfection in person, perhaps, the only variation in the entire multiverse that he felt connected enough to care about and it was that fucking unilateral connection that made you made him be in that submissive and compromising position.

You were leaning over the hard, cold technology panels of his office, the color orange standing out against your skin, as you watched the older man's thick, pulsing cock slide in and out of your pussy, making the sweetest, sweetest noises. dirty things a man could do... You were doing that moment.

Miguel grunted like a hungry animal, one of Spider-Man's hands was on your neck, his claws slightly went in and out due to the strength and emotions of anger he felt at that moment ── he saw the way you smiled at another spider variant, how you blushed when you flirted with someone else, how he could lose you if he didn't mark his territory on your body, like a sinful sanctuary.

"You can't escape me. I've been patient long enough. It's time for you to learn your place, beneath me... Mi Angelito... Always teasing me with those bright eyes and sweet ways..." He accelerated his movements, tearing off the rest of your uniform with his free hand, your breasts jumped free as he groaned as he saw them bounce with each thrust he gave into your wetness.

O'Hara's red eyes glowed as he saw you so small and fragile compared to his tall stature, he could break you, he could fuck you until you were a trembling, aching mess ── his cock barely entered your pussy whole, Your velvety walls hugged him back as if your life depended on it... And maybe it did.

"You're a fucking whore, begging for my cock, aren't you?" he taunted, his gaze met his, as he continued to gradually speed up, a white path of semen formed at the base of his cock and painted your pussy like a beautiful halo. "Look at yourself, such a naughty boy, taking my dick so well like an insatiable slut-! I'm going to breed your little pussy, mi guapo, and you'll never have any choice but to stay by my side forever... Isn't that right? You're going to be the fucking father of my children... It's a canonical event ...You cannot run away from your destiny."

Miguel moaned each word, each letter came out like a growl, an order, you were his regardless of whether it was what you wanted before or not ── however, the feeling of being so eagerly filled, the fat tip of his cock hitting your womb , and the heavy balls hitting your ass, were the most addictive narcotic drug you had tasted in years, you wanted to get out of there, but the moans, the possession phrases and the good sex he was offering you was enough to make you moan like a cheap whore, drooling on his cock, making your boss smile and show his fangs, biting your neck hard and marking you as his.

"I've wanted you for so long, ever since you joined the spider society. It took everything in me to hold back, to just be a good spider leader. But I couldn't stop myself from fantasizing about you." His words were sickening, but they made you wetter for some reason, maybe your brain rotted from the pleasure that coursed through your veins, but knowing that he had wanted you for a while made you moan and cling to him insistently.

"That's better," he grabbed your hips while supporting you even more on his control screens, not caring about the mess or damage it would cause later, everything was forgotten there, only your pussy mattered to the older man. "You finally understand your place... I knew you'd be mine, you will be mine forever." You rolled your eyes and felt your orgasm come after a few more stimulations that Miguel made with his cock in your body or with his mouth ── biting your breasts and nipples, kissing you as if nothing else existed in the world ── you felt your fingers your feet curled so hard that for seconds you swore you were going to break them, a loud moan echoed from your throat to the holographic walls, returning to O'Hara's ears, as he filled you with a hot and thick load of his cum ensuring you would take everything like a good boy.

"That's my favorite spider boy... But we're not done yet... I'm going to fuck you until you're full..." Miguel puts one of his thick fingers on your stomach. "Filled up to here, with my cum, you can handle it, right.. mi niño bonito, vas a manejar esto como un niño grande, ¿verdad?"

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

♡⁠˖ 》 my janitor a.i pfp

♡⁠˖ 》 my character a.i pfp

♡⁠˖ 》 my AO3 pfp

[radishaur]

🕸️๋࣭ ⭑One Piece Halloween Event🕷ྀི𓂃

Hey guys! I caved and decided to get into the spirit with some One Piece Halloween fics! Here's the masterlist for all the fics, in no particular order, that I plan to release between now and Halloween. All of these fics will be posted on AO3 as they will be NSFW, so minors DNI !! I tried to change things up a bit, so I made one reader "monster" and most of these will have both perspectives because why not. I might add more if I'm feeling inspired and I finish all of these in time, but this is what it is for now!

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Demon!Zoro x Reader

A chance meeting with the King of Hell himself ends with an unexpected agreement, but can you keep up your end of the deal?

Ghost!Ace x Reader

Ace had adjusted quite well to being a ghost, watching unnoticed over his little brother's journey, until you came along and changed everything.

Fae!Reader x Law

Law swore to never make another deal with a fae creature ever again, but an alliance formed against a common enemy has him changing his mind.

Vampire!Luffy x Reader

A dare gone wrong with your friends makes you the very unlikely friend of a way too friendly vampire.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[queenofmorningstar]

Can you do general romantic relationship hcs for Zestial x female! reader who's his wife and was his wife when they were alive as well and she's extremely powerful and is known as The High Priestess?

Zestial x Wife! Reader

Notes: Thanks for the ask, this was so fun to think about! ✨I hope you like it! I ended up writing a background storyline (oops). Due to Zestial being referred as 'ancient', I've taken both him and reader to be alive during 1590s - 1600s. On Ao3 as well.

CW: 16th C patriarchal society and norms, Elizabethan Age, Incorrect Old English maybe??? storyline followed by headcanons

When you were alive, your family had already arranged a marriage during your late teens, which was common during that era, but you disagreed with this. But having no power or say, you were married regardless.

However, you were ready. You had heard among the noblewoman that there was an inner ring that sold poison of various kinds for abusive husbands. And so, during the marriage night, you administered the poison. Though women couldn’t purchase property, they could inherit it. So you were settled in life, you only had to act like a poor widow when interacting outside.

Zestial, at that time, was in the espionage system directly under the Queen. He was known as the Spider, due to his silent way of killing the enemy without any mayhem. He’d uncovered many conspiracies that threatened the Queen, so he was trusted with the high amount of poisons that were sold to women as well. You’d helped a lot of other women too.

(Un)Fortunately, Zestial found out about you first. He was ready to arrest you. You did not flinch when the handsome stranger found you. “Thou art the viper who hath sent ten men to graves unblessed. By order of Her Majesty the Queen, I am bound to place thee under arrest for the crime of murder.”

You spoke quietly. “Then arrest me, good sir. And let thy Queen’s justice fall swift upon me… but tell me—dost thou believe her throne were built by the hands of men alone?”

He narrowed his eyes. He had expected fear, perhaps pleas, perhaps a weak woman desperate for forgiveness. “Thou speakest in riddles, poisoner. What hast thou to do with Her Majesty’s works?”

You rose, voice sharpening with anger. “I do the work she cannot . I cleanse this realm of beasts who wear the guise of husbands—men who strike with fists and call it marriage.”

Zestial stepped closer, his eyes like emeralds in the candlelight. “The law is not thine to wield, madam. Thou art no judge.”

You didn’t back down. “And yet I judged rightly. I ask thee— why must we suffer so? Was I born lesser for the shape of my flesh? Shall my soul be chained because I bleed with the moon? Nay. Do not forget sir, that a woman sits on the throne.”

He stared, unmoving. A low chuckle, dark and dry, unfurling from his throat. That night, the Queen received no prisoner. But he reassured her that the poisoners would not be used against her, but for her cause.

You both worked under Her orders, and you couldn’t be happier. The Queen paid for your services, and no one dared to accuse you of anything in public. Zestial often visited you in your gardens, where you kept poisonous plants and flowers.

🕸️ Zestial, though had killed many, was a gentleman while courting you. He often brought you bouquets of belladonnas, and chaste kisses on your hands often followed. Zestial does not fall in love gently. Once he is yours, he is entirely yours. There's no middle ground.

🕸️ Zestial also often read with you various plays and sonnets that were in fashion during that time. He enjoyed “Macbeth” greatly due to all the madness and doom.

🕸️ When he married you in life, you were both fighting off a horde of enemies. A gash split across his side, and still he stood. But for the first time, fear crept into his heart, not for his life, but for the words yet unspoken.

🕸️ He turned to you, voice hoarse yet sure and spoke, "If this be my end, let me not go without this vow: Marry me, my love. Let thine heart be bound to mine, ere death do claim us.”

🕸️ Your sword parried a strike meant for him. You didn’t not falter, only glanced toward him and shouted, "Survive this folly, and I shall grant thee my hand!”

🕸️ You both died early in your 30s (according to that era). In Hell, Zestial wielded immense power, and so did you. You both gained territory quickly, and able to hold it for centuries was an immense task worth praise. You were both feared. In hell, you were happy to do as you please, since there were no rules. 

🕸️ You took on the title of The High Priestess - that fuels the fear and paranoia among sinners. You often wore a veil on your face, and rumours spread that even a look in your eyes could turn people mad. You often joked with him on this. “Art thou not afeard to look into mine eyes? Many a man hath seen their own ruin there.”

🕸️ “Nay, enchantress. For I am already mad — mad with love for thee. What fear hath he who is already lost?”

🕸️ He never says it, but he hates when other men look at you too long. He’ll never admit it outright. He simply becomes quieter. Stiffer. His shadow coils a little tighter around you. The tension in his jaw, the lower eyes narrowing—if anyone dares touch you without permission, they disappear within days. No blood. Just gone. 

🕸️ You often mixed small doses of poison in his tea; he is immune to all kinds of poison due to you, adding to his power. Now, he doesn’t like tea without your making.

🕸️ He likes to watch you do mundane things—brushing your hair, tidying up, humming. He finds these rituals grounding. He’ll silently assist by moving objects for you with shadows, subtly but helpfully.

🕸️ He prefers quiet evenings together, reading or walking through his domain, sharing intellectual conversations.

🕸️ Zestial’s hands are always an extension of his need to protect. He often rests his hands on your waist or shoulder, it's a form of trust—letting you know you are safe with him.

🕸️ He doesn’t “do” PDA. When alone, though? He’s quietly affectionate. He remembers everything. A casual remark you made about liking violets? A garden of them now grows in the centre of his domain.

🕸️ In public, he is composed, respectful, and subtly protective. He stands close, shadows curling protectively around you. He doesn't kiss you in front of others—but his hand may rest on the small of your back in an unspoken claim.

🕸️ In private, he worships you quietly. Long touches. Quiet murmurs of your name like a prayer. His affection is devotional. When you ask if he loves you, he doesn’t say yes, because those words feel too little to what he feels. “Your name is stitched into the seams of my soul. Does the sea say it loves the moon?”

🕸️ Physical intimacy with Zestial isn’t about just passion—it’s about connection. When he kisses you, it’s slow, deliberate, and measured. His lips are gentle but firm, making sure you feel the weight of his affection without rushing.

🕸️ He enjoys strategizing with you—war councils that end in intimate evenings. You might spar together, mentally or physically, and each clash is like foreplay. In bed, he doesn’t often indulge in sex, but when he does, he can go on throughout the night. You will glimpse the first rays of dawn when he is done with you.

🕸️ Whether in Hell’s politics or in battles, Zestial would take pride in creating plans with you, making sure everything runs smoothly and efficiently. You’d often be in sync in ways that no one else could understand, reading each other’s moves without a single word spoken.

🕸️ Zestial would see you as a true equal, never beneath him. You’d challenge each other, but it would make you both stronger.

🕸️ Nicknames from him will include: Dearest, Enchantress & My Love. 

🕸️ When you’re angry at him, Zestial doesn’t beg or argue. He just gives you space. He won’t chase unless he believes you want him to.

🕸️ When he proposed again, it would not be loud or grand. To him, it’s a personal affair that is only meant for both of you. Even though it’s just both of you, he will not spare any effort to please you. The aisle will be set up according to all your wishes. 

🕸️ The ring will be a mix of both your sigils - spider and skull. He won’t actively announce it to people, but everyone will know.

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (5)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 5.4k

— 🍄 summary: what’s better than two nerds? three nerds, obviously.

— ☕ content warnings: jimin is a shameless flirt, mentions of death/decomposition/suicide, more scientific inaccuracies, jimin joins the league of nerds, namjoon is a sweetheart

— 🕸️ a/n: thank you so much to everyone who continues to read and comment!! your kind words keep me writing :)

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 5: triple threat

october 14, 2004

"How is it? Do I look human enough?" Jimin asks on their way out.

Yoongi pauses by the front door to assess him, raising a brow when he's able to take a look at Jimin's ensemble.

"Your glamour's solid," Yoongi replies, scanning him up and down. "Dressed up, huh?" He says it with a slight teasing lilt.

Jimin is decked out in fitted pants, a green turtleneck sweater under a black coat, his signature heeled boots, and one of his more expensive leather bags draped over his shoulder.

Jimin feigns ignorance as he looks down at himself.

"Oh, am I?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes and side steps him to slip out the front door, which opens and closes without any effort from either of them.

You don't want to talk about the dreams. They're nothing to worry about, really. Just a multitude of images and sounds and sensations. Some of them worse than others.

But even still, you don't want to talk about them.

Today, you're setting out for some more fieldwork, this time with Jimin the chemist adding to your bank of knowledge.

You pick up their coffee orders as well as some pastries from the cafe and head to the meeting site.

They're three minutes late, which you wouldn't have expected from Yoongi. Not to mention that they arrive together, cresting the hill and walking down the path like they came from the same place.

"Good morning," you greet them.

"It definitely is now," Jimin casually mumbles under his breath, but you still catch it. Yoongi does too, judging from the way his eyes widen ever so slightly ad his cheeks immediately flush.

You hand them their coffees, allowing yourself one (1) indulgent look at them before you focus your mind on work and not a pair of pretty faces.

Not that you've seen Jimin's full face. Again, he's wearing a black mask and tinted glasses, so really all you can see is his (absolutely cut) jawline, the curves and contours of his neck, and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. But this time he's wearing a black pageboy hat that hides most of his silver hair, probably on account of the cold.

The fact that he looks like a goddamn model leaving his chic apartment in the middle of Paris fashion week doesn't help your one look rule.

So you look at Yoongi, and shit it does not help.

He's wearing black skinny jeans, an oversized black button up, and a pair of battered sneakers. This time, his elegant hands are adorned with a multitude of silver rings, bracelets glint around his wrists, and several sets of dangling earrings frame his face.

His hair is fluffy with a slight curl to it. Did...did he style it?

He must catch you staring at him, because then his hands are fidgeting and he's looking down at the ground.

Clearing your throat, you grab your notebook to look over your bullet points.

"Alright, to the lake," you break the silence, leading the way while chugging your coffee.

Now that you have a little more information on Sharon Mason's death, you can analyze the site with a fresh perspective. It is indeed cold, and the water is no doubt even colder.

You did a bit of research, and apparently some of the first signs of hypothermia are the "-umbles," i.e. stumbles, mumbles, and fumbles. Then, involuntary shivering, loss of motor functions, and—

"Do you think she was dead before she entered the water?" Yoongi asks suddenly.

You're doing it again, damnit. Working alone for so long has given you a habit of talking to yourself, and sometimes it's hard to know if you're doing it (very much out loud) without realizing, since no one is usually there to comment on it.

It doesn't help that the two men have already proven to be distracting enough.

"In my opinion, no," you answer. The autopsy report, as well as all of your research, flashes through your memory like so many sleepless nights.

"It's much more likely that the temperature of the water lead to her demise," you say, half to yourself. Because of the high thermal conductivity, hypothermia can occur twenty-four times faster in water than in the air. Even in non-freezing temperatures, hypothermia can cause death in as little as forty-five minutes.

"And in the moderate stage of hypothermia, one of the symptoms is irrational behavior. Like removing their clothes even though they're freezing," you rattle on, eyes on the dark undulating water of Lurking Lake.

Honestly, that's one of the only reasons you can think of as to why Mason entered the water of her own volition. Even if you were to entertain the notion of suicide, hypothermia is often a slow and painful process, and survival instincts are likely to kick in involuntarily.

But the toxicology report stated she wasn't under the influence of any alcohol or drugs that could've explained the odd behavior. It just doesn't make any damn sense.

"So," Jimin says softly, as if sensing your frustration. "What did you want me to look for?"

You shake your head to clear the cobwebs, taking a few more sips of coffee.

"Anything unusual when it comes to the lake environment," you answer. The lake happens to be the area you have the least expertise in, so you're hoping Jimin will be able to make up for it.

"Tell me about it," you invite, stepping forward to examine the waterline.

Looking at it again, you notice several things you hadn't before. There's the same curtain of fog, the same cattails and lily-pad-like plants poking to the surface, but there's also a little wooden dock a small distance away.

Almost unconsciously, you start to move towards it while Jimin and Yoongi follow dutifully.

"Well, you've probably heard that it's polluted," Jimin answers.

"So I've heard. Polluted how, exactly?" you press.

You're closer now, seeing that the little dock is half underwater, old and rotted.

"The real question is what isn't it polluted by, really," Jimin continues. "There's the lead poisoning, the PFASs, the—"

"The what?" you interrupt, rummaging around in your bag for something to write with.

A little glint sparks in Jimin's eyes, the rest of him visibly perking up.

"PFASs, or perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, they're a subset of fluorinated chemicals, so they possess strong carbon-fluorine bonds—"

"Jimin, you don't need to go into detail..." Yoongi cuts in, but not in an annoyed way, more like he's anxious that you'll get annoyed.

"No, no, please go ahead," you encourage him, pen now poised over your notepad.

You can't see it, but Jimin smiles and blushes a bit under the mask.

"So, these are sometimes called "forever chemicals," because of their strong molecular bonds that can take hundreds of years to break down," he continues, with you one step behind him jotting everything down.

"Hmm, and I'm guessing you can find many of these "forever chemicals" in pesticides," you remark.

Another smile, this time from admiration, crosses Jimin's face.

"Correct."

While you were roaming around town to interview Laplan's wife and Sharon Mason's family, you found out that many of the townsfolk use a heavy amount of pesticides and herbicides on their land. You're guessing because of the strange fungus and tree rot that's been rapidly spreading.

As the three of you roam the perimeter of the water, you listen to Jimin's explanation of the other types of pollution in the lake, from nutrient pollution (or an excessive amount of nitrogen and phosphorous that cause algal growth) and the increase of TDSs (or total dissolved solids, usually due to an increase in the saltiness of the water).

You ask Jimin to collect some samples so he can test the salinity and get a more accurate sense of what specific chemicals you're dealing with.

"What about the wildlife?" you ask, watching a few tiny fish squirm between the rocks.

There's that same twinkle in his eye as he gets into it.

"Well, there's actually a pretty invasive species of leech in this lake," he says, sounding like a kid in a candy store.

He explains that these leeches can grow up to twelve inches long (jesus christ), and while different species of leeches can feed on organic material or prey on other animals, this specific species is purely parasitic.

Yoongi wanders off to examine some of the outlying plants while Jimin excitedly rambles on, with you listening intently to every word.

He has a strangely melodic voice, sweet and smooth. It's a voice you feel like you could listen to for hours.

Apparently, leeches have a numbing agent in their saliva, so the host can't even tell when it's been bitten. They also release an anticoagulant, making the host's blood flow faster, so there's even a danger of excessive bleeding after the leech has detached.

"You're quite knowledgeable on the subject," you say, allowing your interest and admiration to shine through your voice.

Jimin shrugs it off modestly, turning to continue along the path.

"I have specific interests, I guess," he replies. "I wanted to head a research project on this location, but there wasn't enough funding."

"Ah, that's a shame," you say sincerely.

"Yoongi wanted to look deeper into the local plant life mutations, but again, lack of funding," Jimin adds.

"Really?" you respond, and something in your voice must betray the way your interest snags, because Jimin looks up at you like he let something slip.

Maybe that's why the mayor recommended him to you, maybe he contributed to the push for answers.

Jimin wanders off a bit, and yeah anybody who wants to judge you for staring at him can press charges.

It's just so easy to watch him when he's focused, Yoongi too for that matter. They always put their hands in their pockets and lean forward, head tilting to the side and eyes narrowing as they hone in on whatever they're examining.

Yoongi is collecting some more plant samples, his eyes narrowed in what looks like confusion.

Jimin is staring at a specific spot in the lake, towards the center but still visible from your position.

"See something?" you ask as you walk up to where he's standing, following his line of sight.

He points to the spot he's been staring at, and you have to lean forward and squint your eyes.

For a moment, you don't see anything, just dark water and fog. Jimin seems to notice, being as perceptive as he is.

"Unfocus your eyes a little, be openminded," Jimin whispers in your ear like it's a secret.

You do as he says. It takes you a few seconds, but then you see it. The top of a wooden post sticking up from the gentle waves. And when you look closer, you can see the top of a sign. Through the water, you can make out the words DEEP WATER.

"Huh," you let out. "So the water level is rising."

"It would appear so," Jimin replies, and something in his voice suggests that he's thinking hard.

He pulls a tupperware container from some secret pocket in his coat, snapping it open.

Your attention shifts between the algae covered rocks and the tadpoles just under the surface. Then you smell something sweet.

Another look at Jimin answers why. He's pulled his mask down and is nibbling at a cupcake with swirling frosting, flecks of pure vanilla visible even from where you're standing.

It tickles something in the back of your brain.

"I should get going," Yoongi says, checking his watch. It reminds Jimin to do the same thing.

"Yeah, me too," he adds, readjusting the mask back over his face.

You check the time. It's only two p.m. Though it is Wednesday, and you remember Yoongi having to head home at a certain time during your last outing.

"Okay," you reply, expertly hiding your slight disappointment at having your time with them cut short. Just because you're eager to work through this case. No other reason.

"Let me give you a ride," you offer while you put away your notes.

"Oh, that's okay, we'll walk," Yoongi is quick to reply. "It's not far."

They gather up their things, checking their watches often like they're late for something.

"I'll get started on those tests right away," Jimin assures you, and Yoongi gives you a shy little wave goodbye.

They start on the path together, walking almost shoulder to shoulder. You watch them go.

Just before they crest the hill and disappear among the trees, you see Jimin hold up the last bite of his cupcake up to Yoongi's mouth, who takes the offering like it's second nature.

They seem to move like the tide, pushing and pulling effortlessly as if they've known each other for years. Maybe they have, it's not like you know a lot about them.

You resume your work feeling only a little hollow inside.

october 15, 2004

The next day, you're still feeling a little empty and aimless. So you go to your favorite place in town: Magic Shop Books and Oddities.

Namjoon sits behind the desk, wearing a collared shirt under a knit sweater. There's an open book in his hands, titled Morbid Fears and Curious Compulsions.

You allow yourself to watch him for a short moment, admiring how his eyes dart around the page, how he clenches his jaw occasionally when he comes to a difficult passage.

After a while, he looks up and realizes that you're there. He doesn't even flinch at the fact that you've been watching him. A warm smile crosses his face, one that makes his cheeks crease and his dimples pop out (and oh my god is he stunning).

"Hello," he greets you in that velvet voice. "Need help finding anything?"

And as much as you enjoy his company and expertise, you aren't here for research.

"I'm just browsing today, thanks," you reply, returning his smile.

You wander around for a bit, exploring more of the nooks and crannies that make this place so charming. You come across a narrow staircase towards the back of the shop, with a little sign pointing up and stating Poetry Upstairs ↑.

You start to ascend, feet padding on the rug which has been trodden on so much that the wood of the stairs is exposed through the tears in the material.

More shelves and oddities await. It's nice to browse the tomes aimlessly, giving yourself a little break from the constant tension of mapping out the case files in your head.

There's some taxidermy animals (a raccoon playing poker, a squirrel smoking a cigar), a rack of dusty, frayed vinyl records. There's even a little corner with some displayed apparel, fur coats and vintage dresses and old lace.

You comb through the racks, curiosity drawing you towards something unnamed but still itching under your skin. Then, you find an authentic leather jacket. The inner lining is a more warm material, perfect for cold weather, and the inside is crowded with little symbols stitched into the fabric.

You try it on and look in the antique mirror leaning against the wall. It's perfectly oversized, comfortable and practical. You look for a price tag but find nothing.

"How much?" you ask Namjoon when you descent back down to the counter.

He gives the jacket a once-over.

"Twenty bucks?" he says.

"What?!" you blurt out before you can help it. A piece like this go easily go for a hundred, not to mention all the detailing.

"No way, fifty at least," you respond. Namjoon's eyes widen a bit.

"That's very generous, but you don't have to—"

"It's you that's the generous one," you interrupt. "Fifty then, alright?"

A glint of stubbornness lights in his brown eyes. Luckily, you've been stubborn since the day you took your first breath.

"Thirty-five," he counters.

"Forty-five."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Thirty-seven ninety-nine?"

You tilt your chin up in consideration.

"Fine," you say, reaching for your wallet.

He smiles triumphantly as he rings you up. As he's placing the jacket into a bag, you pretend to notice something on the shelf behind him.

"Is that real amber?" you ask, and he turns his head to what you're pointing at. You slip several bills, enough to cover the difference, into the tip jar while his back is turned.

"Yes it is!" he answers proudly when he turns back around, and his visible joy is enough to spark something in the depths of your stomach.

"Interesting," you reply, grabbing the bag and your receipt.

After you've left through the front door, Namjoon glances at the tip jar with a barely concealed grin.

"Sneaky little thing."

october 17, 2004

You're sitting in the cafe with a fresh cup of coffee and a square of cheesecake to snack on when Jimin and Yoongi enter the establishment.

Still the epitome of sleek grace, they are both dressed in black.

Jimin is decked out in a leather trench coat, wearing the same heeled boots, his hair tucked into a black cap and his face obscured by another mask. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, which he cradles like the contents are more precious than gold.

Yoongi is wearing an oversized coat and a bucket hat, the same skinny jeans hugging his slim legs. And no, you're not going to apologize for staring this time.

And neither is anybody else, apparently. Because every patron in the cafe has looked up, and is staring just as intently at the two men.

But Jimin pays them no mind, scanning the room like he's looking for something. He finds it when his gaze lands on your face, which is (embarrassingly) already looking at them.

He takes it as an invitation, approaching the booth you're sitting at with determination, pulling Yoongi along with him.

"Hello, ______. Mind if we join you?" he asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement.

They sink down across from you, Jimin emptying the contents of his bag. Yoongi turns to go to the counter, muttering something about getting a coffee. Heads turn to watch him go.

Jimin spreads his notes across the surface of the table. Then he flashes three test tubes before your eyes, held between his fingers.

"See anything interesting?" he asks a little playfully.

One test tube contains clear liquid, one contains a slightly murkier liquid with sediment floating inside, and one contains a greenish sludge.

"I don't know what I'm looking at," you admit.

"This," he says, pointing to the one with the relatively clear liquid. "Is a sample taken just after we arrived at the lake. It falls under the category of slightly saline water, around 2,000 ppm."

"Ppm?" you cut in.

"Parts per million," he answers helpfully, and that's one of the things you like about Jimin. Even though he's an apparent "genius," as Yoongi put it, he never sounds condescending. He answers any and all of your questions clearly and happily.

"This is pretty normal for lake water, especially a closed body of water like Lurking Lake."

You tilt your head slightly to the side, not quite familiar with the details of a "closed body of water," and Jimin catches it instantly.

"Oh, so lakes that are formed from rivers and streams will have a constant flow of water coming in, right? But the water level of closed lakes tend to decrease because of evaporation. As a result, the salinity often increases because the freshwater is evaporating away."

"Okay, so what you're telling me is this is perfectly normal sample," you say.

"Yes, but," Jimin begins. "This one is a water sample taken just before we left the lake, so roughly an hour later."

He holds up the slightly murkier water.

"This water is highly saline, around 30,000 ppm. That's almost as much as the damn ocean."

Yoongi returns just as you try to wrap your head around what he's implying. Iced Americano for Yoongi, and a caramel latte and vanilla scone for Jimin, though you don't remember Jimin telling him his order. Maybe they do know each other that well.

"So," you start, still confused. "Two samples from the same source, but one is freshwater and one is saltwater?"

"Exactly," Jimin confirms. He lowers his mask to gnash at his vanilla scone, and you see a flash of his (the only word to describe it is luscious) lips before they are hidden again.

"That's..." you want to say impossible, but your previous work has proven that almost nothing is actually so. "Highly unusual."

You don't see it, too busy looking down at the surface of the table deep in thought, but the two men give you a look of respect for your specific word choice. Because if any other group of people in this town know that nothing is truly impossible, it's them.

"What about that one?" you ask, gesturing to the test tube with the seaweed-colored sludge.

"Ah! Now this," Jimin starts excitedly, holding up the glass so the strange stuff inside can catch the light.

"This is an isolation of the lake's main sources of pollution," he explains.

A chuckle escapes from Yoongi, making you whip around to look at him.

"Oh yeah, he stayed up all night with Melancholia, testing away," Yoongi quips fondly.

"Melancholia?" you can't help but ask. Sounds like a girlfriend.

A fierce blush flames across Jimin's face, you can tell because it reaches all the way up to his forehead.

"My microscope," he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

And is it adorable that Jimin has named a piece of his equipment? Yes, of course it is.

You offer him a non-judgemental smile, and he visibly eases up.

"Anyways, this is an amalgamation of all the substances polluting the lake. High concentrations of lead, nitrogen and phosphorous from the algae, and TDSs, though we know that's from the salinity. And I found a high number of synthetic surfactants," Jimin continues.

"Explain to me what that means?" you reply curiously, igniting the same little spark in Jimin's eyes when he gets to talk about the ins and outs of chemistry.

And the more you see that look on his face, the more you want to act clueless just so he has an opportunity to express it.

"So, a surfactant is a substance that tends to reduce the surface tension of the liquid it's dissolved in. These are most likely found in cleaning products and detergents, since their molecules break down the surface tension of water in order to allow the product to spread out and clean better, as well as attaching to dirt particles and rinsing away grease more easily."

"Okay," you say, nodding as you follow along.

"But most surfactants are skin, eye, and respiratory irritants. Carcinogens, sometimes even.”

“Okay,” you say, not sure where he is going with this.

“So, your latest victim, Sharon Mason, her body should’ve reflected the effects of these toxins since she was in the water for several weeks.”

“Hmm,” you mutter. Another mystery. You would think that Mason’s body was encased in time given how little it was disturbed.

“Could that have contributed to why she was practically untouched by the local wildlife? They could smell all the toxins in her body?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs like you’re not quite on the right track.

“Maybe, but there’s a hell of a lot more toxins in the water than there probably was in Mason’s body. Really, it’s a miracle there’s any wildlife in the lake at all,” he says.

You sip at your coffee contemplatively.

“Yoon, tell her what you found,” Jimin encourages, turning to his companion.

Yoongi clears his throat and spreads out some of his notes.

“So, you know how I mentioned that the flora in Ulthar's Grove looked dehydrated despite all the recent rainfall?" Yoongi begins.

"Uh huh." You nod along, listening intently.

"Well, the flora around the lake is not only severely dehydrated, it's dying from salt poisoning."

"Salt poisoning?" you inquire.

"Yeah, so not only does too much salt affect osmosis and draw water from the plant, it can also interfere with the chemical processes used to convert sugars into nutrients."

"Acid rain?" you think out loud, but Yoongi gives a little head shake.

"Not likely. Damage like this is almost always caused by absorption through the soil, since most plants don't absorb much from their leaves and stems."

You sink back in your seat. Fungi, tree rot, lake pollution, salt poisoning. It seems like the more you try to find solutions, the more problems you unearth. Nothing but fragments of death and decay.

You're tired today.

"So, what's next, boss?" Jimin says, voice light like he's trying to cheer you up.

"What could be causing such high concentrations of salt?" you ask to no one in particular.

"Well, a number of things," Yoongi answers. "Wastewater, excess fertilizer, mining and oil extraction."

"So mainly man-made problems," you interrupt. Yoongi offers that straight-mouthed smile.

"Unfortunately, most of the environmental problems that exist today are man-made," he supplies.

You let out a slight huff. You'll have to speak with the mayor to report your most recent findings. Now that you think about it, you remember some of your research on decomposition stating that bodies decay much slower in salt water. Maybe that was the main reason why Mason's body was so preserved.

But why the fuck would the water measure fresh at one point in time and almost as salty as the damn ocean in another?

"Fuck me blue," you sigh to yourself.

Jimin bursts out laughing just as he goes in for another bite of scone, and you thought you see a flash of sharp teeth. He's covering his mouth with his hand before you can be sure.

"Anyways, I've gotta get going," you say, gathering your things, missing the slightly disappointed look from both men as you do so.

"I guess I should get to studying too," Yoongi mutters, sticking headphones into his ears.

"Thank you both for your help, I really appreciate it," you say earnestly, giving both of them a grateful look.

"Of course! Let us know if there's anything else we can help with," Jimin replies, and you can see that he's smiling because of the ways his eyes crinkle above his mask.

You can't help but glance back at Yoongi as you're leaving, as he's diving into a boring-looking science book. It's then that you notice the little chunks of chocolate that he's spread out over the page, like it's a little reward for getting though the tedious reading.

Another tickle in the back of your brain. It's the one you feel when you feel like you're missing a connection, when you're debating on if one of the many innocuous details you can never seem to ignore are important or not.

You're aware again of the several pairs of eyes that are attached to Yoongi, most of them belonging to University students.

Why are they looking at him like that?

You've never been able to hold back the beast that is curiosity, so when you exit the cafe you linger by the entrance, waiting. Not long after, a handful of students leave with their coffees and treats now in to-go containers.

"Excuse me," you say in your best non-confrontational voice.

They stop and turn. Recognition glints in one of the young woman's eyes.

"Hey, you're the journalist, right?" she asks.

Your first thought is that word certainly travels in this town. The second is perfect, run with it!

"Yes, I am," you reply, letting yourself sound a little more official. "I was wondering if I could get a few comments. You'll be credited, of course."

They comply more easily than you would've thought, given the hesitancy of the other small town inhabitants. But then again, these were college students.

You ask them about the three decedents, then about the five missing persons. They tell you more of what you already know, but you have to cover all your bases.

Though, some of them claim that there was barely any press coverage, while some claim there was some tabloid-like slander.

When you've got the formalities out of the way, you get to the questions you really want to ask. Closing your notepad, as if to say "this is off the record," you ask,

"So what's the deal with him?" You nod your head in Yoongi's direction.

"He's a complete freak," one of them quips almost immediately, and it takes you aback.

"Yeah, he lives in that creepy house on the hill," another one supplies.

"He...doesn't really interact with anyone at the university," one of them says more hesitantly. "And he talks to himself. Like a lot."

Talks to himself or talks to his plants, you wonder.

"He's just got bad vibes, like the rest of them."

That makes you pause.

"The rest of them?" you ask.

"Yeah, there's like seven of them that live up there. All creeps, if you ask me."

You've heard enough. Clicking your pen sharply, you straighten and offer them a tight-lipped smile.

Because yes, Yoongi is a little unusual, but you don't care for people who talk that way about people they don't really know. Or maybe it's because you've been called a creep one too many times. It makes you want to show them just how creepy you can truly be.

"Thank you for your time," you say, turning and leaving them standing there on the sidewalk.

october 18, 2004

It's easier to just avoid sleep. If you don't sleep, then you won't dream.

You've been particularly agitated. Maybe it was from the encounter with the college students yesterday.

You like Yoongi and Jimin, they remind you of you. So it's a little disheartening to find out that the townsfolk don't take kindly to that type of person.

And you've hit a bit of a mental dead end with Sharon Mason. More research, more deep-diving, and you can't come up with a practical reason for what led to her death, and what happened to her body afterwards.

Now, as a private investigator, you've come across many cases that resulted in lackluster, disappointing, or downright depressing conclusions.

The unfortunate reality is that humanity, including many of the things they've invented, is a disease. Religion, tradition, social constructs, willful ignorance, they're all the main purveyors of cruelty.

But that same annoying part of your brain, tucked into the furthermost back corner, won't let you let go of the notion that something is unusual about everything here. Something that cannot be explained by conventional methods.

You take an afternoon to decompress by the lake. Even though it was the location of a mysterious death and several strange anomalies, you can't help but feel that the atmosphere is somehow peaceful.

Okay, maybe you are genuinely weird.

The swirling fog is almost hypnotizing, the chill is invigorating, and you enjoy watching all the little squirming fish in the shallows. You even brought a little packed lunch and thermos of hot, frothy coffee.

It's as you're sitting along the shoreline that something unusual happens.

One moment, the air smells of musky lake water, algae and rotting wood. The next, the brisk, biting wind of the sea is whipping through your hair.

The water appears less green and more deep blue. When you look back at the shallows, they no longer house tadpoles, but anemones and small starfish.

You only hesitate a moment before you're reaching in your bag for a sample container, using a pair of tweezers to pluck up some of the organisms.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, mind reeling with possible explanations. You don't come up with many.

When you look back up at the water, a pale hand is sticking up from the gentle waves. It's held out to you, fingers curling slightly, beckoning.

Your stomach nearly falls out of your ass. The hand is only a few meters away, though you can't see anything beneath it given the darkness of the water.

A second, maybe two, though it feels like your breath has been stolen for several minutes.

The hand folds inward, and this time it's an unmistakable invitation.

Less than a blink later it's gone. The water is back to its sickly green color, and the scent of moss and festering wood is back.

Hands shaking, you linger long enough to seal the specimen container and stow it safely in your bag, then you get the hell out of there.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! I would be your best friend forever if you’d be so kind as to share some of your thoughts on the chapter! shit is starting to go down!!

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