#flying without a net

[haveyoureadthisqueerbook]

[farshootergotme]

FIVE YEARS OLD???

[hballegro]

incase u wanted it, heres sam having a terrible day

[slimslamflimflam]

“think of the children!” no. you aren’t. the people in power couldn’t give two shits about the children. the people in power look away when it comes to genuine concerns about children the second it impedes upon their lifestyle, their beliefs.

and you know what it is that bothers them so? children wanting safety. children not wanting to live in fear of being murdered. children who want to be loved and accepted for who they are. children who are raised to be those kids you hear others complain about on social media because nobody was there to teach them better. they don’t know better because they quite literally can’t.

oh but it’s for the kids, right? protect the kids, right? turn a blind eye to death and discrimination and neglect, right? that’s how we’ll protect them, right?

[muirneach]

to illustrate the kind of sewer i am i use child size crayola craft scissors for literally everything from cutting fabric to cutting my threads. i have fancier scissors but i forget to use them. i nearly exclusively use embroidery and tapestry needles when hand sewing cause i inexplicably don’t own any normal needles. i use my stepmothers terrible sewing machine that needs to be rethreaded every time you start a new stitch. i’m a quilter but never cut a good square in my life because i never measure unless i have to. and despite all of this on wednesday i’m starting a college course on industrial sewing and pattern drafting. lord pray for us sinners (self taught sewers) now and at the time of our death (being thrown into the deep end of sewing)

[potatounicoorn]

This one right here⏫

Also just generally the fact that they had him perform WITHOUT A NET. Its stated he started at 5y old to perform without one. A bigger circus tent where acrobats can perform is around 12 meters (40 feet). That is a height where at least 50% of the falls are fatal.

Both of the Graysons were risking their own lives every night (sometimes multiple shows), both risking leaving their child without parents if they fall (which they did) or getting their 8y old child killed if he happens to fall. And if not dying from the impact that the fall gives, it would most likely disable whoever the faller is.

That is NOT great parenting, no matter how skilled acrobats are in question. Safety measures are there for a reason. They just didnt care, because it made the show more interesting for the audience.

Abusive John and Mary Grayson

You know what? In light of both the most recent Batman and Robin year 1 Batman and Robin Year 1 chapter and December's Batman: The Long Halloween - The Last Halloween chapter?

There are some versions of canon!John and Mary Grayson where they are actually, absolutely, abusive and exploitive parents. Where his parents had Dick training for 10 hours a day since he was three, where he's been performing full-time since he was 5, where enough people in the circus knew he was being groomed for the Court of Owls. Where his parents (or at least, John) cared more about either the thrill of the crowd/earning more money than he did the safety of his own son.

And, I know I say this every month or so, but circuses were terribly exploitive already of child acrobats, and I always felt that the Court of Owls was in part a parallel to the child trafficking that went on there.

Interestingly, John and Mary are held up as the gold standard of parents by others, in a similar way that Dick is held up as the gold standard as Robin. And yet, so many of those damaging personality traits that Dick has can be so easily traced back to his relationship with his parents.

What I love about Halloween is that it doesn't just talk about Dick's experiences pre-Bruce, but dares suggest that it actually wasn't healthy for Dick. I would even go so far as to say that there is almost an edge of fear in how Dick talks about his father.

I want so much for the darker side of the Graysons to be explored, even if just via fandom. Give me a John Grayson who is a punishing, unrelenting father who doesn't tolerate less than 100% commitment and perfectionism. A Mary who gets isolated from her own friends and loses herself in the fantasy of the Flying Grayson family at the expense of her son. A Dick who is 8 and has just lost everything, and who sees his parents through rose-colored glasses and the circus as a family instead of the exploitive business it was because he is a child. Give me the perfect Grayson family as a deliberately crafted marketing strategy, rather than an actuality. And. Give me other people in Dick's life who think, actually? His childhood was really fucked up.

There's a really interesting line in Halloween where Dick says that Bruce didn't just save his life, he gave him one. Most versions of Bruce in canon strive (at least initially) to give Dick a childhood, and it is Dick who always tries to push for more - who doesn't feel comfortable doing less. Bruce puts more importance on Dick being a child than some versions of Mary and John ever did.

... I might have to give a particular fic that is currently sitting in my 'too hard' basket another go.

[evamame]

papa?

picking up your husband iwaizumi hajime after his days work at the gym is over with your baby wrapped up on your chest. something had gone wrong with his car, resulting in it currently at the repair shop being fixed. this left you and your one year old son in charge of pick up duty. you slide open the door and step into the vast gymnasium of japan’s national men’s volleyball team, greeted with the sound of shoes squeaking on freshly polished hardwood floor and the smack of volleyballs being spiked over the net. sitting on a bench off to the side of the court is hajime, writing some type of report in a notebook with a focused expression. you walk along the sidelines to him, holding your baby’s head to shield him from any unsuspected volleyballs that may fly your way.

hajime only looks up from his work as you seat yourself next to him, typical. he’s always so focused and invested in his job. only during his work hours is he like this, though—he always makes time for his two favorite people.

hajime smiles at you and places a kiss to your temple in greeting, putting his notebook and pen off to the side before shifting in his seat to face you more directly. “hey. didn’t realize you were here.”

“must’ve lost track of time again, right?”

“as usual,” he admits a bit sheepishly, “i really need to finish filling out this sheet of supply orders for next month.”

“hmph. you have that nice smart watch but you hardly ever pay attention to when you need to clock out of work,” you gesture to the sleek black band on his wrist as you speak.

“sorry, love i—” his words are cut off by the babbling of your son, who’s stubby arms are reaching for his papa. he looks up at his dad with wide and admiring eyes, dawning the same tan skin as his father and the same deep brown color in his wispy head of hair and irises. there’s not a doubt in sight that he’s hajime’s child; he’s practically the spitting image of him.

you two can’t help but chuckle at his efforts to cling to his dad, his movements restricted by the wrap holding him close against your chest. “you wanna give papa a hug?” you coo.

the restraint doesn’t give in, and your son looks up at you with an adorably frustrated face of confusion and surprise at the spectacle. “you can’t get anywhere in this wrap, huh?” you say as you gently pull him out of the restraint, handing him off to hajime.

once your son is in hajime’s arms, it’s within an instant that he wraps his small and chubby arms around his neck. hajime holds him securely against his chest, an affectionate laugh escaping his lips at the way his baby boy looks up at him with such adoring eyes. “looks like you really missed your papa,” hajime says fondly before placing a peck to the top of his delicate head. at this, your baby giggles loudly and begins to blabber incoherent sentences, ones that hajime pretends to understand nonetheless.

“you know, once we got here, he kept asking me ‘papa?’ the whole walk from the parking lot to the entrance. i guess he recognizes this place pretty well now.”

“oh, really?” at your words he peppers kisses all along your son’s chubby cheeks, “papa missed you too. so, so much.”

and it’s not without your son first being showered with praise and love from the team that the three of you leave to go home, praise that your baby accepts with innocent giggles and lots of squirming—all from the comfort of his papa’s warm embrace. undoubtedly his favorite place to be.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

a/n: iwaizumi is such a good boy dad. a little self indulgent bcs i have big baby fever.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Daddy's Girl part 1

Let Go of My Daughter

The battle had been brutal. Debris lay scattered across the ruined street, buildings groaning from the damage, smoke rising from the craters left by the fight between the Justice League and the alien war machines that had descended without warning.

From a nearby rooftop, Dani watched with awe, her white hair glowing faintly in the dusk light. She wasn't supposed to be here—Danny had told her to stay away from trouble. But curiosity had a grip on her soul like gravity. These were the heroes she’d only heard about in stories, seen from the shadows: Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman, Green Lantern—fighting together in a blur of power and purpose.

Then came the hum. A too-familiar mechanical buzz that made her hair stand on end.

Dani turned. Too late.

Agents in white armor, cold faces under dark visors—the Guys in White. They hadn’t come for the alien invaders.

They had come for her.

She bolted, ducking low, turning invisible mid-leap, but they were ready. A glowing ecto-net shot out from a launcher, wrapping around her mid-air, sizzling with power. She screamed as it struck her core, her body flickering between ghost and human, pain tearing through every atom.

“No—NO! LET ME GO!”

Her thrashing only made the net constrict tighter, burning her. One of the agents barked an order, and the voltage increased.

“Subject is destabilizing. Contain or terminate!”

A sickening jolt surged through her.

Her screams echoed across the battlefield. At first, the Justice League didn't realize what they were hearing—amid the chaos, it was just another sound.

But then Superman paused. His ears twitched. He heard the difference. Fear. Pain. A child.

Wonder Woman turned toward him, already running. “Where?”

“North rooftop!”

Batman was ahead of them both, his grappling hook already in the air.

The GIW agents didn’t see them coming—not until a batarang shorted out their generator, sending Dani crashing to the rooftop, gasping and shivering.

The agents turned in surprise, only for a red and blue blur to knock two of them flying into a wall. Wonder Woman’s lasso whipped through the air, tangling up another pair. Lantern constructs snapped the rifles from their hands and crushed them under emerald fists.

But it was too late.

Dani was curled on the rooftop, panting, hurt, and bleeding ectoplasm. Her wide eyes glowed bright green, tears cutting down her ash-streaked cheeks.

Then she screamed—a raw, primal cry from the deepest part of her.

“DADDY!!!”

The world held its breath.

And then… the sky cracked.

Clouds spiraled unnaturally. Wind howled. The sun dimmed under a sudden pall of swirling green light. Lightning arced across the horizon—green lightning.

From the center of the storm, a figure emerged.

A black cloak whipped in the wind, edged with silver chains. A massive glowing crown floated just above his brow, held in place by raw ectoplasmic power. His white hair streamed behind him like a comet. The air warped with his fury.

And his eyes—normally calm and glowing green—were now blood-red.

Phantom.

No longer just a boy.

Now, the Ghost King.

“LET. GO. OF. MY. DAUGHTER.” His voice was not a shout. It was a command from a being who ruled death itself, echoing through time and space.

The GIW agents who were still conscious dropped their weapons instantly, paralyzed by sheer instinctual dread. One tried to run—only to be caught midair by an invisible hand and slammed into the pavement.

Danny—King Phantom—descended to the rooftop. He didn’t even touch the ground; power thrummed beneath him like a living storm. The League took a cautious step back, not out of fear—but respect.

He knelt beside Dani, rage turning instantly to anguish. “Dani… I’m here.” He gathered her up, cradling her close. Her eyes fluttered open, and a weak smile touched her lips.

“You came…”

“I always will.”

Batman stepped forward. “Who are they?” He gestured to the crumpled agents.

Danny didn’t look up. “Government ghost hunters. Illegal operations. I’ve shut them down before.”

“They attacked a child,” Wonder Woman said grimly. “They’ll answer for it.”

Danny stood, still holding Dani. “Not to you. To me.” A portal yawned open behind him—green and swirling like a rift into another realm.

One of the agents began to beg. “You don’t have jurisdiction here!”

Danny looked back over his shoulder, red eyes gleaming.

“I’m the King of the Infinite Realms. Jurisdiction is what I say it is.”

He stepped through the portal, Dani safe in his arms. The sky rumbled one last time—and then the clouds dispersed.

The rooftop fell quiet.

Green Lantern let out a low whistle. “Well. That was something.”

Superman crossed his arms. “We’ll need to talk to him. If they’re hunting children like her, this isn’t over.”

Batman was already scanning the data from the agents’ suits.

But all of them, for that one moment, stood in the quiet awe of a simple, terrifying truth.

Mess with a ghost girl… and you’ll answer to her father.

The Ghost King.

[xiranjayzhao]

Hey, all! My friend Soumi, an Indian international student in South Korea, recently fell victim to a scam that drained her of 37k USD of life savings. In Soumi's own words:

"I trusted the wrong person at a time when I was trying to send the money home to my dependent, elderly parents and was trying to move out of my one room apartment, where the ceiling is leaking and affecting my health.

Now I’m trying to survive for the sake of myself and my elderly parents--my father 79, my mother 72, both retired. We don’t have a financial safety net. My mother has severe degenerative joint disease with spinal spondylitis and is preparing for a knee transplant (~6 lakh INR or USD 7,000). If anything were to happen to them—or even to me—I don’t even have money to fly home to look after my parents. I don’t even have enough to afford food, and because I haven’t been able to pay for my medication, I’ve been struggling with insomnia, anxiety, and depression. Without my antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. My health issues including GERD are worsening, but I’ve had to skip treatment."

Please chip in if you can to help her survive this crisis and reblog to signal boost

If you live in South Korea and are able to help her pursue justice, please reach out to her directly! As a foreigner in SK, she has faced so many barriers, and help from SK citizens would be invaluable.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy IV

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your first Barcelona goal

Last year at camp, Ada had sat next to you at breakfast.

Usually, you sat with Ingrid but she still wasn't up yet and your other steadfast guardian, Caro, was still getting her food served up.

"You're good on that left foot," Ada had said to you," But you need to trust yourself more. You need to remember that you can score as well as assisting. You don't need to keep passing."

"I...I'll keep that in mind."

Ada had let it go but Caro didn't.

"When I hit a ball," She'd told you," I know if it's going in or not. You need to get to that stage too."

You hadn't ever really thought you would, not really.

But now, as you cut into the box, refuse to pass to Kika in the box and send it flying away with your left foot, you know.

This is going in.

Your next thought is:

Oh, shit. You've got to be kidding me.

You freeze in your tracks as Misa's outstretched hand can't keep your shot from the back of the net.

You'd gone your whole first season without a goal for Barcelona. You'd racked up assists, of course, like you do every team you've ever been on. But unlike those other teams, goals had eluded you.

Alexia had even been making it her personal mission to get you on the score sheet this season. It's all she ever talked about when you were paired up for drills together.

She's the one that reaches you first now, grabbing at your arms and shaking you triumphantly. She's celebrating like she's just scored in the Champion's League Final again.

The rest of the team end up joining and you're in the air before you can even think about it. You wobble slightly and brace yourself on Alexia's shoulders as she somehow jumps with you still in the air.

"Let's get you another one," She says as she finally lowers you back down to the ground.

"There's only ten more minutes of the match yet."

"And?"

She walks back to the halfway line after that, leaving you with no answers.

Play returns to normal after that and one of Ona's shots hits the post. People scramble to track where it's gone, if it's gone out or if it's still in the box somewhere.

It's neither.

It's at your feet at the edge of the box.

And then it's in the back of Misa's net before anyone even realises.

Your name and face appear on the screen to signify your second goal of the night, only three minutes after your first.

You take a deep breath.

This time Esmee is the one that gets to you first. You like Esmee. She's a good friend. She's like you, kind of. She's a bit awkward at first, quiet in social situations but that doesn't matter.

Ingrid calls you and Esmee two peas in a pod.

"Two?" She says in your ear with a laugh as you hug," Alexia will never let you live it down."

You laugh too. "I better not score that third one then, should I?"

But the universe is clearly against you.

A through ball from Irene deep in your own half falls beautifully to your feet and one quick look up lets you see Misa hurriedly trying to back up from where she's come out of her goal.

She doesn't get there in time though because you're at the halfway line and let the ball fly.

Caro was right.

You know the moment it leaves your foot that Misa has no hope of stopping it.

You're over by the bench before you can blink and Ingrid's arms are around you before you even realise it.

"Look at you," She says," Such an overachiever. Maren told me this would happen, you know. You just needed to settle in."

"For a year?"

"A year and a ten minute hattrick," Ingrid says," I'd say that it was the perfect amount of time."

"Alexia's going to be talking about this for ages," Caro says as she joins at your back," She'll want you to score practically every match."

"She'll be disappointed."

"We'll see."

[sharkwidow]

Nerf War | Avengers x Teenage reader!

✮⋆˙Summary: War broke out, and you were the culprit.

✮⋆˙Content Warning: Chaos, affection, and lots of foam darts.

✮⋆˙Word Count: 785

✮⋆˙Notes: The Avengers adore you... even if they don't easily admit it.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

Fury left you with them like you were a fragile box.

"Take care of her, she's useful. She's a spy. And yes, she's a teenager, but don't underestimate her."

He said it dryly, but the Avengers understood the subtext. You weren't just useful. You were important. You'd been through things no one should have to go through, and Fury, that grumpy old man with a hidden heart, trusted them to give you something you never had: a family.

And at first... it was weird. Tony called you "ninja girl," Natasha analyzed you like a mirror, Steve offered you food every five minutes, and Clint gave you training arrows. Even Wanda calmly taught you how to use your abilities, as if she wasn't worried about you accidentally melting a cup.

But today... today you weren't a spy. Today you were a bored teenager in a giant tower with superheroes too busy.

So you decided to unleash hell.

Colorful. Foam. Totally harmless.

The best hell.

You snuck through the halls, sliding as only you knew how, until you left a modified Nerf gun in the kitchen. On the table. It was pointed directly at Tony Stark.

"What the...?" he said when he saw it.

A note taped to the side read: "First to shoot wins. Begin!"

Tony looked up just as a foam dart hit him in the forehead.

"Was that you?!" he yelled, running after you.

And so the war began.

Steve showed up five minutes later with a shield converted into a barricade. Natasha had two Nerf guns and terrifying accuracy. Wanda levitated darts with her magic. Clint fired from the rooftop, and Peter Parker came swinging through the window with a backpack full of ammo.

Bruce refused to participate... until a dart hit him in the back. Then, the controlled version of the Hulk launched cushions like grenades.

You were laughing so hard you almost fell down the hallway as you dodged Tony's attacks and hid behind the couch.

"She started it!" Tony yelled, pointing at you.

"And she's going to win!" you screamed, launching a barrage of darts with lethal accuracy.

At some point, Steve tripped over a poorly placed shield, Natasha got caught in a net you'd set up as a trap, and Clint was left hanging from the ceiling light, laughing like a madman.

When Thor returned to the tower from another mission and saw the mess, he simply asked, "Is this a battle? Where's my Nerf hammer?"

And that's when the chaos doubled.

Darts were flying everywhere. Peter was screaming like it was a real war, you were using your training to disappear and attack from the shadows, and Tony was already planning to build an automatic turret to shoot him.

The chaos lasted almost two hours.

Two hours of laughter, screams, pillow fights, and hearts healing without saying a word.

When it was all over, you were on the floor, laughing, with Tony lying next to you, his hair covered in darts, and Wanda using her magic to remove the ones Clint had stuck in his face.

"You're dangerous, kid," Natasha said, sitting next to you.

"Thanks," you replied with a smirk.

Steve tossed you a water bottle.

"Good strategy, agent."

And for a moment, you felt... loved. Not for what you could do. Not for your training or your skills. But simply for being you.

An orphaned teenager who had started a Nerf war so she wouldn't feel alone.

And it had worked.

"Rematch tomorrow?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Get ready, I have better plans," you replied, and everyone laughed. Even Thor.

The Avengers—your Avengers—looked at you as if you were one of them. Because you already were. From the first foam dart.

[seumyo]

when life gives you a kuroo tetsurou who’s helplessly in love.

NOTE. when life gives you tangerines inspired! but this is not as angsty <33

Kuroo, for all his seventeen years of living, was still getting used to the farm life.

He was as thin as a willow reed and walked on the sandy edge of the main road that wound through their small coastal village like a sleepy snake. A woven bamboo basket dangled from his elbow, mostly empty except for two daikon and a packet of tofu wrapped in wax paper. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his face was slightly flushed—not from the sun (though maybe it did play a part), but because you were up ahead.

You were walking fast, faster than someone your size should, and the sound of your feet hitting the ground in short, stubborn stomps made his heart squeeze. You were carrying two buckets filled with what Kuroo assumed were freshly caught fish from your father’s boat. As he had thought earlier.

“[Name]!” He called out, lengthening his stride, “Wait for me!”

You didn’t turn around.

Ouch.

“[Name]! You’ll hurt your shoulders again if you carry both of those all the way down the shore by yourself.”

“Again?” You sighed at this point. “I’ve done it before,” you told him without stopping. “You’re not seriously following me all the way to the coast again, are you?”

“I’m not following,” he said, stepping alongside you now, trying to match your brisk walk. His voice was softer than yours, slightly shaky, not from nervousness exactly—but from restraint. “I was just… out. Walking.”

You turned around sharply, your eyes barely meeting his as the sun shone down on you two, though whether from exertion or something else, he wouldn’t tell. “Tch. You always say that. You walk behind me, you linger at the docks when my father’s boat returns, and then you suddenly have errands in the market at the same time I do. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No!” Kuroo blinked, clearly startled. “I mean, no, of course not! I just… I think you could use the company. And help with carrying the catch.” He offered you a crooked little smile, like he was embarrassed even as he meant it. And he meant it. Every word.

“I don’t like your company.”

“Ouch—please be nicer to me!”

You frowned, shifting the buckets. “You can't even carry one of these, you know that? Last week you tried and dropped all the mackerel in the dirt.”

“I was… distracted.” He pouted, lips softening into a line, brows tugging together in that pathetic way of his that always made you annoyed for exactly four seconds before you wanted to sigh and forgive him. “That only happened once.” Kuroo glanced down at his hands, then muttered, “Twice.”

“And when you tried to help my father untangle the nets, you fell into the water and cried.”

“I didn’t cry,” he said quickly, though his ears turned red. “I just… got saltwater in my eyes.”

You laughed, loud and unfiltered, the sound mixing with the screech of seabirds flying overhead. He thinks he must be coming down with an illness because his chest suddenly feels tight.

“I’m not useless,” he added softly, after a pause. “Even if I can’t dive like you or carry heavy things, I can… distract the crows.”

You glanced at him again, and this time, your smile was small, more like you were trying not to laugh again. “You wave your arms like a scarecrow, Tetsurou. You look ridiculous.”

“Your scarecrow, at the very least,” he mumbled under his breath, looking away.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You could be useful. Carry this one; it’s lighter.”

“Wait—ow! Heavy,” he wheezed quietly, balancing his basket on one arm and a bucket in the other. You looked at him flatly. “I— I was wrong. It’s not very heavy at all; I can handle it.”

You made your way to the market, where the tide was gently lapping against the dock—distant and familiar. An array of stalls greeted your path, and you took the initiative to greet a few vendors on your way. The village dogs barked at gulls nearby. You dropped your bucket and rolled your sleeves further, while Kuroo did the same beside you and tried to copy your movements—though his long, knobby fingers didn’t move with the same confidence.

Just a quick break before delivering the fish to the customer.

“You don’t have to keep coming with me me,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter. “Your mother’s going to shout at me again.”

Kuroo looked down at the pavement. “She’s just…” he paused. “She’s proud? Doesn’t like fishermen much. Says your family takes more than they give.”

“She threw an egg at me last week.”

“I know!” Kuroo said quickly, face twisting in horror. “I tried to stop her—I even blocked the second one with my arm!”

You chuckled, then sighed, then began walking again as you adjusted your grip. “You’ll get in trouble, too. What if she stops feeding you rice again?”

“She only did that for two days.” He paused. “I ate sweet potatoes.”

Your gaze flicked to him, lips twitching. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“No,” he said softly. “Not when it’s you.”

You looked away, the wind tugging at your slightly worn-down clothes. Just then, Kuroo turned just in time to see his mother barreling out from behind a stall, holding a straw broom in her hand like a weapon.

“Don’t run, Tetsurou! I told you not to hang around that girl again!”

“Mother, please—she’s not—she didn’t do anything—”

“You call sneaking around and making eyes at a fisherman’s daughter nothing? I saw you two loitering by the harbor last week and again outside the tofu shop!”

You didn’t wait to hear more. You grabbed the other bucket from Kuroo and took off running down the alley behind the teahouse. He didn’t even hear you say anything—you just ran.

Kuroo spun toward his mother, panic rising. “Stop, Mother, she’s just trying to help her family!”

“She’s just using you to get better prices at the market! She even haggled with old man Yamada! We’re not like them, Tetsurou! We're farmers! Proud people!”

Kuroo’s attempts at keeping his mother at bay faltered. He stood awkwardly, unsure what to say.

But you, from far off, yelled back, “I earned that discount! His cabbages were half-rotten!”

His mother screeched again.

“Mama, they help us a lot!”

“Help her family seduce mine’s son, you mean! If your grandmother were alive—“

“She’d say you’re being cruel!” he shouted, surprising them both.

His mother froze. Her expression darkened. “Don’t talk back to me, Tetsurou.”

Eventually, his mother stormed off, muttering about curses and disobedience, leaving Kuroo with slumped shoulders and his words clinging to him like a knife. The other bystanders just nodded approvingly; something about humbling his mother was just what she deserved.

-

Much later, when the sun had begun to dip behind the hills and the tide crept lazily back to shore, Kuroo found himself wandering the edge of the beach where the fishermen’s boats were tethered. He spotted you near the rocks, skipping flat stones over the surface of the water.

You didn’t look at him, but you didn’t run either.

“I heard the miso lady gave you rice crackers for dodging my mom again,” he said sheepishly, wiping the smut off his cheeks to at least make himself look presentable.

You sniffed. “She said I was quick. Like a fox.”

“You are. A pretty one.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

“I know.”

A silence passed, interrupted only by the gentle lap of waves and the distant rustle of cicadas.

“She’s going to make me sleep with the chickens again,” he murmurs.

You sighed. “You’re the only boy I know who’d get kicked out of his own house for helping a girl.”

“I’m the only boy you know who likes you this much,” he said, scratching his cheek. “Even if I can’t swim or carry stuff or stop my mom from launching eggs.”

Your gaze softened. “You’re a fool.”

“I know. Trouble’s worth it if it means seeing you smile.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re worth being foolish for.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Just looked at him with a strange, tired affection. Then tossed him a fatty tuna you’d caught earlier from the bucket beside you.

It smacked him right on the shoulder.

“…ow.”

You smiled. “Next time, try not to defend me too much to the point of getting kicked out. The climate’s getting colder these nights.” You fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt, just a little. “And... I think you can spend the night in my brothers’ room if you want. Sleeping next to chickens is awful.”

And under the setting sun, with the scent of salt in the air and his heart thudding like a taiko drum, Kuroo realized—he didn’t care how many buckets he spilled or how many times he got chased through the market or how many times you looked at him unimpressed.

If you cared about him just as he cared about you, then he thinks he’ll be ok. This is where he wants to be, beside you.

He nodded. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[bu3ck3r]

back in your arms

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: p surprising a in storrs

a/n: thank u anon for this request i had fun writing it. also lmk if there’s any mistakes. enjoyyy

azzi stood near the free-throw line, drenched in sweat, hair tied up in a messy bun, trying to focus. afternoon light poured through the high windows, catching on the glow of her skin. she launched another shot—net. another—miss. another—net. she didn’t even care about her percentage anymore. she just needed to distract herself.

her phone had been sitting on the floor for the past three hours, still no response from paige.

one day. that’s all it had been. twenty-four hours since paige last texted her, but azzi felt like she was unraveling.

paige never went a whole day without replying. not even during her busiest days in the wnba. they always found time, even if it was at 1 a.m. “i love you” voice notes or a 30-second facetime just to say goodnight.

so where the hell was she?

azzi gasped and grabbed her water bottle, chugging half of it before checking her phone again. still nothing. her heart was punching at her ribs with that all too familiar fear. was she okay? was something wrong?

she shot another three-pointer. missed.

“damn it,” she muttered.

she didn’t hear the door open.

meanwhile, near the campus, a car pulled into the parking lot behind the gym. paige leaned forward in the passenger seat, pulling her hood lower over her forehead.

“you are so dramatic,” said caroline from the driver’s seat, trying not to laugh.

“i told you i wanted this to be a surprise. she probably thinks i ghosted her,” paige said, her mouth twisting with guilt.

“i swear if you get mobbed before you even make it into the gym, i’m leaving your ass here.”

“you’re a terrible friend.”

“i’m the best friend. now go before she actually breaks up with you.”

paige grinned and hopped out, sneaking through the entrance like she used to.

her stomach was fluttering. she hadn’t seen azzi in three weeks.

and now, paige was here.

she opened the gym door quietly, slipping in through the shadows. her heart instantly bounced.

there she was.

azzi.

mid free-throw, breathing hard, focus written across her face. she looked tired. she looked pissed. she looked beautiful.

paige stood there for a moment and watched. she could’ve watched forever.

then azzi turned—and froze.

the ball slipped from her fingers. it bounced away, rolling toward the sideline. her eyes went wide.

“paige?” she whispered.

and then she ran and launched herself at paige so fast she barely had time to open her arms. their bodies collided, hard, azzi wrapping her legs around paige’s waist, arms around her neck. her face buried in paige’s shoulder, paige stumbled back with a laugh, holding her tight.

“damn,” paige breathed. “you missed me that much?”

azzi didn’t respond at first—just kissed her, hard. it wasn’t gentle or slow. it was all lips and heat and the bite of longing. her hands curled into paige’s hair, pulling her in closer. paige’s fingers dug into azzi’s waist, grounding them both. when they finally broke apart, azzi glared at her.

“you didn’t respond to me for a whole day,” she said, accusing.

“i know,” paige said, nuzzling her nose into azzi’s cheek. “because i was flying to you.”

“you suck.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

paige grinned. “caroline picked me up. she thinks you’re gonna kill me.”

“i might.”

“you were one more missed text away from a breakdown, huh?”

azzi lightly smacked her chest. “shut up.”

paige kissed her again. “i missed you too, baby.”

they didn’t even notice that someone had walked in until ice’s voice rang through the gym.

“okay, what is going on here?”

azzi whipped her head around, still clinging to paige, as ice and kk walked in.

paige barely managed to catch azzi’s legs and set her down.

kk stared for a beat. “wait is that p boogers?”

“surprise,” paige said with a smirk, arms still around azzi’s waist.

ice nearly dropped her water bottle. “what?!”

they both ran over, crowding paige with hugs and disbelief.

“you didn’t tell anyone?!” ice said.

“caroline knew,” paige replied.

azzi grumbled, tugging paige back to her. “okay, okay. y’all got your hugs. she’s mine. back off.”

“god, you two are so gay,” ice said, sipping her drink. “can y’all not touch each other for one second, like damn.”

“nope,” paige and azzi said in unison.

kk snorted. “insufferable.”

but they were all smiling.

later, as they walked back to the dorms together, paige held azzi’s hand tightly. the sun was dipping low, casting gold across the trees. azzi hadn’t let go of her since the gym. she kept brushing their arms together like she couldn’t believe paige was real.

paige leaned in and whispered, “so… how mad were you?”

azzi narrowed her eyes. “i was this close to calling your teammates.”

paige laughed. “would’ve been worth it.”

“only because i didn’t actually.”

“mmm i like when you’re clingy.”

azzi rolled her eyes. “oh please, you’re the one who flew here.”

paige stopped her and pulled her close.

“yeah. because i couldn’t go another day without you.”

she kissed her again, soft and lingering, right there in the path. azzi melted into her, arms around her neck. they stood there for a long moment, caught in a world only they understood.

azzi whispered against her lips, “don’t disappear on me again.”

“i won’t,” paige said. “i promise.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the dorm was unusually quiet, but as paige and azzi stepped through the doors—still holding hands—there was an immediate shift in the air.

from around the corner, jana appeared, holding a bowl of cereal.

she blinked once. “wait, is that?”

before she could finish, ice and kk came walking down the hallway, still buzzing from the surprise.

“paige bueckers is in the buildingg,” ice announced to literally no one and everyone.

a door slammed. sarah’s voice floated down, “what?”

paige squeezed azzi’s hand tighter.

“oh my god,” jana muttered, mouth full of cereal.

azzi immediately stepped closer to paige, hand drifting from paige’s fingers to her waist, like claiming territory. “okay, okay,” she said coolly. “calm down.”

“i cant believe you’re here.” kk shouted.

“surprise,” paige said again, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“i literally cried last time you left.” jana threw her arms around paige dramatically. “welcome home, p.”

paige hugged her back, laughing. “missed you too.”

“alright,” azzi said, gently pulling paige back into her arms. “y’all got your moment. she’s with me now.”

“relax,” ice said. “no one’s gonna steal your girl.”

azzi didn’t let go.

kk raised an eyebrow. “damn, girl, we just want to say hi. you’re gripping her like she’s gonna vanish.”

paige turned to azzi, teasing: “i kinda like this new possessive you.”

“you’re never leaving again,” azzi mumbled, face tucked into her shoulder.

the girls all let out exaggerated groans.

“you two make me feel so single.” ice muttered, grabbing her cereal from jana.

“y’all are just mad we’re in love,” paige called after them.

“more like allergic to pda,” kk said. “bro can y’all not touch each other for a minute?”

paige grinned. “absolutely not.”

azzi looked at her with a smile.

they finally made it to azzi’s room—after paige was forced into one more group hug—and shut the door behind them.

the second it clicked closed, paige turned around and leaned against it.

“god, i missed this room,” she said. “smells like you.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “you missed me.”

“well obviously,” paige said, reaching for her.

azzi practically tackled her onto the bed.

they landed in a mess of limbs and soft sheets. azzi hovered over her, arms braced on either side of paige’s shoulders. she looked down at her for a long moment, her expression softening. paige reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from azzi’s cheek.

“you really scared me today,” azzi said quietly.

“i know,” paige whispered. “i’m sorry.”

azzi leaned down, forehead to forehead. “i thought something was wrong.”

“i just… i wanted to see your face when i showed up. i needed that reaction.”

“you needed me to almost lose my mind?”

paige grinned. “i was right though, huh?”

azzi sighed and kissed her. “shut up.”

their lips met again—slower now, deeper. the tension of the day began to melt into something warmer, needier. azzi’s body pressed flush against paige’s, hands roaming beneath the hem of her hoodie.

paige slid her hands beneath azzi’s tank top, thumbs tracing the soft skin of her waist. “been dreaming about this for days.”

azzi’s lips were hot against her neck now, teeth grazing lightly. “same.”

clothes started disappearing in quiet layers—hoodie tossed, shorts slipped off, tank tops lost between kisses. the room filled with the quiet hum of breathing, the creak of the mattress, the sound of two people desperate to feel every inch of each other after weeks apart.

paige took her time, lips and fingertips memorizing the curves she already knew by heart. azzi whispered her name like it was sacred.

after they finished, they stayed tangled together under the sheets, sweat cooling, hearts still thudding.

paige brushed azzi’s hair back and kissed her forehead.

“that was…”

“amazing,” azzi mumbled, lips against her collarbone.

“you trying to make me never leave?”

“is it working?”

paige laughed softly. “god, yes.”

an hour later, paige was half asleep when she heard it:

knock. knock. knock.

then ice’s voice from outside the door: “can y’all please be quiet next time? we could hear y’all loud and clear.”

kk added from the hallway: “i am so done with y’all.”

paige muffled her face into azzi’s shoulder, laughing.

“we weren’t that loud,” azzi protested weakly.

“baby i’m pretty sure you screamed my name. twice,” paige whispered.

azzi hit her with a pillow.

paige kissed her cheek. “i love when you yell.”

“oh my god stop.” azzi rolled her eyes, but she was blushing hard.

eventually, they got dressed again—barely—and cracked the door open. sure enough, kk and ice were on the couch playing fortnite, pretending they hadn’t just roasted them through a closed door.

“we’re getting food,” paige said. “y’all hungry?”

ice didn’t even look up. “starving.”

“but you two need to chill.”

paige smirked. “can’t promise that.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the night air was warm, the breeze filtering through the open windows of azzi’s car. paige was driving. obviously.

they were barely two minutes into the drive when paige’s hand found azzi’s thigh.

“really?” azzi murmured, glancing over with a raised brow, though she made no move to stop her. she even shifted slightly so paige’s hand could rest higher.

“i need my hand to stay somewhere calm,” paige said, eyes still on the road. “and your thigh is the softest thing i’ve touched in three weeks.”

from the back seat, kk groaned. “you two are disgusting.”

“bruh i did not miss this at all.” ice added, head tilted dramatically against the headrest.

azzi reached over and turned the volume up a little just to drown them out. “we’re being normal,” she said, smirking.

paige nodded. “it’s just a hand on a high.”

“if you two start making out at a stoplight, i’m walking home.” kk muttered.

paige flashed a grin in the rearview mirror. “no promises.”

“i’ll throw myself out the window,” ice said flatly. “i mean it.”

ice and kk ordered enough food for a football team. azzi and paige split fries, giggling like middle schoolers over how long the mozzarella sticks took.

azzi kept brushing her foot against paige’s under the table. paige kept whispering things in her ear that made her blush.

at one point, kk leaned back with her chocolate milkshake. “so, when are you two getting married?”

azzi nearly choked. paige just smirked. “you wanna be the flower girl?”

“i’ll be the priest if it gets y’all to chill out,” ice deadpanned.

they ended the night back in the car, food wrappers rustling, laughter trailing off as paige drove them through sleepy storrs roads.

back in the dorm, ice and kk peeled off toward the common room with a final warning:

“if we hear anything again tonight,” ice called out, “we’re starting a gofundme.”

“we finna put y’all down for a noise complaint for real,” kk added. “good night.”

azzi rolled her eyes, dragging paige toward her room again. “they love us.”

“they hate us,” paige replied, laughing.

azzi closed the bathroom door behind them, locking it out of habit. the warm light made the tiles glow softly. paige sat on the edge of the sink, tugging off her socks while azzi reached into the shower and turned on the water. steam rose slowly.

“i don’t even care that we’ve only been apart for three weeks,” paige said, standing to lift her shirt over her head. “it felt like a year.”

azzi glanced at her over her shoulder, smiling. “it really did.”

soon enough they stepped into the shower together. paige immediately pulled azzi close under the stream, hands sliding down her back, lips pressing to her temple. azzi looped her arms around paige’s neck and rested her head on her shoulder.

“i’ve missed this,” azzi said quietly.

“same.”

they stayed like that for a while—just holding each other, letting the heat soak into their skin.

then, inevitably, hands started wandering. paige’s mouth drifted down azzi’s jaw and azzi arched into her with a quiet gasp, fingers tangling in her wet blonde hair.

there was nothing rushed about it. it was slow. intimate. needed.

after the shower they were wrapped in fresh towels and oversized shirts, as they got ready for bed together—brushing teeth side by side at the sink, laughing as azzi sprayed way too much detangler in paige’s hair.

they climbed into bed with legs tangled, the fan humming above them. paige was on her back, azzi sprawled half across her, head on her chest.

paige’s fingers played lazily with the hem of azzi’s l shirt. “i really wish i could stay longer.”

“you have like… three days off, right?”

“yeah. but i already wanna freeze time.”

azzi looked up at her, eyes a little misty. “i miss you every day.”

paige kissed her gently. “you have no idea how proud of you i am.”

“same,” azzi whispered. “every time i see highlights of you, i scream. like. out loud. in the gym.”

“i know,” paige smirked. “caroline told me.”

azzi blushed, hiding her face. “traitor.”

“you’re gonna be there soon,” paige said softly. “wnba. i can’t wait to watch you drop 30 on everyone.”

azzi traced little circles on paige’s stomach. “you’ll be in the front row, right?”

“always.”

they kissed again—slow and warm, no urgency this time. just love.

and when they finally curled up under the blanket, azzi whispered into paige’s neck: “don’t leave until you absolutely have to.”

“i won’t.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the morning sunlight spilled into azzi’s room like it owned the place. paige groaned and rolled deeper under the sheets, burying her face in azzi’s neck.

“get up, sleepyhead,” azzi murmured, brushing her fingers through paige’s messy hair.

“no,” paige mumbled. “i’m retired.”

“you literally played a game last week.”

“exactly. let me live.”

azzi kissed her cheek. “i have practice baby.”

paige pulled her closer. “cancel it.”

azzi laughed. “you want me to get benched?”

paige shrugged. “then i’ll get benched too. solidarity.”

“you don’t even play for uconn anymore.”

“minor detail.”

azzi was in the gym with a few teammates running drills. her jumper was smooth as ever, but something in her posture said her mind was somewhere else—every glance toward the door, every pause between sets.

then the door creaked open.

“nice form,” paige called out, leaning casually against the wall in a uconn tee that showed off her muscles just right.

azzi froze. so did everyone else.

ice dropped the ball she was holding. “oh no.”

kk clapped dramatically. “here we go again.”

azzi jogged over to paige like she hadn’t already seen her all night and morning, like her body just moved on instinct. the moment she was close enough, she threw her arms around her and kissed her full on the mouth—right there in front of the team.

“wow,” jana muttered.

“you miss me that much?” paige teased when they broke apart, brushing her thumb over azzi’s cheek.

azzi grinned. “shut up. you’re the one who showed up looking like that.”

kk groaned. “i can’t be here.”

sarah pointed at the door. “take it to a room. this is a training facility.”

“you’re just mad we’re cute,” azzi called over her shoulder as she tugged paige toward the bleachers.

“i’m mad y’all are making me miss my girl,” kk shouted back.

later that night, paige and azzi were back in her room, sprawled out on the bed again, hair still damp from another steamy shower they’d taken “to cool down,” which was a lie and everyone knew it.

paige reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded t-shirt.

azzi’s eyes widened. “is that…?”

“my dallas warmup shirt,” paige said, handing it over. “figured you should have one. smells like me. you’re welcome.”

azzi held it to her chest. “i’m never taking this off.”

“please do, eventually,” paige said. “or you’ll smell like an actual locker room.”

azzi threw a pillow at her. “you’re so annoying.”

“you love it.”

“i do,” she admitted, smiling softly.

just before lights out, they wandered into the kitchen to grab snacks.

ice was sprawled on the couch with kk, both of them locked into a chaotic fortnite match. the second they spotted paige and azzi, they both screamed in unison:

“get a room!”

paige blinked. “we have a room.”

“y’all just came out of it,” kk said, tossing her controller down. “and now you’re back like nothing happened.”

“you two need supervision,” ice added.

“we’re literally just getting snacks,” azzi said, grabbing a bag of popcorn.

“y’all get snacks like you’re in a movie scene,” kk complained. “too much eye contact and way too much touching.”

paige slid an arm around azzi’s waist. “we’re just affectionate.”

“you’re menace-level affectionate,” ice muttered.

azzi just kissed paige’s cheek. “jealousy is a disease.”

kk gagged audibly.

back in azzi’s room, they climbed under the covers, the popcorn bowl between them, a movie playing softly in the background.

azzi wore paige’s dallas shirt. it hung down her thighs, barely covering her. paige stared for way too long.

“eyes up here.”

“you got it princess.”

they fed each other popcorn until paige started licking the butter off of azzi’s fingers, making her laugh.

azzi tackled her and they rolled around laughing until paige pinned her with a playful smirk.

“you’re so whipped,” paige teased.

“me?” azzi raised an eyebrow. “you flew across the country.”

“i came here for basketball,” paige joked.

azzi leaned down and kissed her, long and slow. “liar.”

paige smiled into the kiss. “you caught me.”

the next evening came too fast.

azzi lay on her back in bed, hair still damp from the shower they’d just taken together, paige resting beside her in nothing but an old uconn shirt and soft cotton shorts.

their skin still buzzed — from the warmth of the water, from each other.

they’d barely kept their hands to themselves while in the bathroom.

paige had been behind azzi the entire time — arms around her waist while they brushed their teeth, kissing her shoulder between swipes of the toothbrush, murmuring, “you’re so damn pretty,” through a mouth full of toothpaste.

azzi had almost spit hers out from laughing.

now, back in bed, it was quiet. paige’s hand was resting on azzi’s stomach, her fingers idly tracing small circles on her skin. her legs tangled with azzi’s under the blankets.

“you smell like my shampoo,” azzi whispered.

paige smiled. “you smell like heaven.”

“you’re such a cornball.”

“and yet, here you are,” paige murmured, nuzzling closer. “loving every second of it.”

azzi reached up and ran her fingers through paige’s slightly damp hair. “i really do.”

they kissed again — soft, slow, and lingering. like neither of them wanted it to end.

paige rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow so she could look down at azzi. her eyes were serious, warm.

“you know i think about you all the time when i’m in dallas, right?”

azzi nodded. “same. every single day.”

“i hate being away from you.”

“me too. but i think it’s also… making us stronger.”

paige smiled. “yeah. it’s like… no matter where we are, we’re still us.”

azzi leaned up and kissed her chin. “we’ll be together full-time soon.”

“i know.” paige gently tucked a strand of hair behind azzi’s ear. “when you get to the league… i hope we’re on the same team.”

“if not, i’m guarding you every time,” azzi smirked. “and i’m locking you up.”

paige laughed. “you wish. you’d foul out in the first half.”

“you’d fall in love again mid-game and lose focus.”

“unfair tactic,” paige grinned. “using my heart against me.”

azzi leaned up and kissed her deeply, then whispered, “you’re mine. always.”

paige kissed her again, slower this time, hands on azzi’s hips, holding her like she was everything.

because she was.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the next morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. paige had to head back to dallas.

azzi stood in the hallway, wearing one of paige’s hoodies, watching as paige zipped up her bag.

“i should sabotage your flight,” azzi said, arms crossed, pretending to pout.

“don’t tempt me to miss it.”

they stood at the door for too long. hugging. kissing. whispering promises they’d already made a dozen times over.

“i love you,” azzi said into paige’s neck.

“i love you more,” paige said, pulling back and brushing their noses together. “don’t argue. i win.”

azzi narrowed her eyes. “fine. but only this time.”

caroline arrived to drive paige to the airport, honking once from outside the dorm.

paige opened the door, bag slung over her shoulder, azzi clinging to her hand like it might be the last time.

ice and kk were on the couch — again.

as soon as they saw the two lovebirds in the doorway, they both said:

“thank god, we can finally have peace again.”

azzi flipped them off, still clinging to paige.

ice pointed to the hallway. “now kiss and go.”

paige turned to azzi and, right in front of everyone, kissed her like she meant it — like she always did.

azzi was breathless when they broke apart.

“be safe,” she whispered.

“you too. text me the second you get out of practice.”

azzi smiled, tears welling up. “i love you.”

paige cupped her face. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

azzi nodded. “okay.”

azzi was still in bed, paige’s hoodie swallowed around her like a second skin. the sheets smelled like her. the silence was heavier now, like the room knew it was missing someone.

her phone buzzed.

she didn’t expect anything—paige hadn’t texted since she left—but when she opened it and saw the name, her heart caught in her throat.

leaving sucks. i hate every part of it. packing, airports, this stupid seat that isn’t next to you. but i just wanted you to know that i’m still carrying the way you looked at me this morning. i’m still hearing your laugh in my head. i still feel your hands on me, like they left a print only i can see. i left my heart in your bed. wrapped in your sheets. wrapped in you. so yeah, i’ll be back soon. because i don’t feel like me when i’m not with you. i love you, az.

azzi read it once, then again, slower. the ache in her chest swelled until it pushed tears from her eyes—quiet, stubborn ones she wiped away with the cuff of paige’s sleeve.

she buried her face in the hoodie and whispered into the cotton:

“i’m not me without you either.”

she didn’t cry.

much.

after a minute she decided to reply.

you’re the worst for making me cry this early. i miss you so much it physically hurts. the bed’s too cold. the room’s too quiet. i keep rolling over expecting to find you there. you really did leave your heart here. and i’m holding onto it like it’s mine, because it is. so don’t take too long, okay? i need your laugh in this room again. i need your hands, your voice, your everything. i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything. come back to me soon. i love you, p.

paige stared at azzi’s message, she hadn’t expected a reply so fast—definitely not one that hit her this hard.

her chest tightened.

she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to fight the sting in her eyes. it didn’t work.

she read it again. and again.

then, quietly, she smiled to herself.

she pulled her hoodie tighter, still faintly smelling like azzi, and typed with thumbs that shook a little more than she’d ever admit:

i’m coming back the second i can. im yours, az. always. i don’t know how i got this lucky, but i’m not letting you go. i love you. so damn much.

she locked her phone, leaned her head against the window, and whispered, barely loud enough to hear herself:

“im gonna marry her one day.”

[jaeyunluvbot]

ilysm (i love you spider-man)

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 mark lee x fem!reader, spidermark, friends to lovers, high school au, spiderman!mark

word count 𝟅𝟈 11.2k

NOT PROOFREAD

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

High school wasn’t glamorous. It was 6:00 a.m. alarms, piles of homework, and gym class—a.k.a. your least favorite subject. So, when Coach called for volleyball that day, you sighed and shuffled towards the court like a prisoner headed for trial.

The gym smelled faintly of sweat and old rubber soles, the harsh lights making it hard to focus. You stood by the bleachers, tying your sneakers when Mark stumbled in, late as usual. His hair stuck up in odd places like he’d rolled out of bed and made a mad dash here. Classic.

“Lee!” Coach barked, tossing him a red jersey. “You’re on Team B. Let’s go!”

Mark jogged over, muttering apologies as he passed you. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hey,” you replied, amused. “Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, pulling the jersey over his head.

Mark was… Mark. Sweet, funny, always a little awkward. You’d known him since middle school, and while he wasn’t exactly the athletic type, you’d never really cared. You’d bonded over you bonded over your mutual interests, anyways, and volleyball was not on the list.

The game started, and you hung back like always, hoping to avoid the ball as much as possible. Mark, however, was front and center.

When the ball came his way, you winced, expecting it to bounce off his face or fly past him entirely. But instead, Mark jumped—higher than seemed possible—and spiked the ball with enough force to make it slam into the court.

Your jaw dropped.

“Whoa!” someone yelled.

Even Coach looked impressed. “Nice hit, Lee! Where’d you learn that?”

Mark shrugged, his face slightly flushed. “Lucky shot.”

As the game went on, Mark’s “luck” didn’t run out. He dove to the floor to save a ball, slid across the court with the grace of a pro, and even managed to block a spike that seemed way out of reach.

By the time the game ended, the entire class was buzzing.

“Did Mark join a secret volleyball league or something?”

You couldn’t help but grin, though your curiosity was starting to bubble over. Since when could he do any of this?

During a break, you found him leaning against the wall, gulping down water like he’d just run a marathon.

“Since when did you play volleyball like that?” you asked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

He nearly choked, coughing and spluttering as his face turned red. “I—uh, I’ve been practicing?”

“Practicing?” you echoed, unimpressed. “Mark, the last time we played volleyball, you tripped over the net and nearly took me down with you.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… things change?”

You squinted at him, unconvinced. There was something different about him lately—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Before you could press him further, Coach’s whistle blew, calling everyone back to the court. Mark shot you a quick smile before jogging off, leaving you standing there, your curiosity growing by the second.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the day went on, you started noticing more little things about him. In English class, he caught a pen mid-air without even looking, like he had eyes in the back of his head.

“Nice reflexes, Spidey,” you joked, nudging him.

Mark laughed nervously, shoving the pen into his bag. “Just got lucky,” he said quickly, avoiding your gaze.

Then, in chemistry, he managed to grab a beaker you almost knocked off the table before it shattered on the floor. His hand shot out so fast you barely saw it.

“Whoa,” you said, staring at him. “How’d you do that?”

Mark shrugged, his cheeks turning red. “I dunno, instincts?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but before you could say anything, the teacher called for everyone’s attention.

By lunchtime, you were keeping a closer eye on him, trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed more jittery than usual, like he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself but failing miserably.

When someone dropped their tray in the cafeteria, sending food flying, Mark’s head snapped toward the commotion before anyone else had even noticed. He looked like he was about to jump out of his seat before he caught himself and forced a laugh.

“You good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, totally,” he said, shoving a fry into his mouth. “Just… startled, that’s all.”

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it slide. For now.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different about Mark. He’d clearly changed somehow, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly was different.

And as much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t help but wonder: what was he hiding?

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Your parents had been asleep for hours by the time Mark came over that night. It was one of those quiet, lazy Friday nights where the two of you didn’t need to talk much. Just snacks, a couple of blankets, and a well-worn stack of DVDs.

You weren’t supposed to have people over this late—especially not boys—but it was Mark. If your parents knew it was him, they’d probably be fine with it. Still, sneaking him in through your fire escape gave the night a little thrill.

The two of you were huddled on your bed, knees bumping each other as the movie played on the TV. It was some action flick Mark had picked out, but your attention was divided between the screen and him. He looked more relaxed now than he had at school, though every now and then, you caught him glancing toward the door, like he was expecting someone to barge in.

“You good?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” he said, flashing you a sheepish grin. “Just… didn’t expect him to survive that fall.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “It’s a superhero movie, Mark. No one ever dies unless it’s to make the hero angsty.”

He chuckled at that, leaning back into the couch. “Fair point.”

As the movie went on, the two of you started whispering back and forth, your voices barely louder than the hum of the TV.

“Okay, that was so fake,” you said, gesturing at the screen as the hero miraculously dodged a bullet.

Mark smirked. “You’re telling me this is where you draw the line?”

“I have standards!”

He shook his head, stifling a laugh, when suddenly his posture stiffened. His head tilted slightly, and his hand reached out, brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone urgent. “Be quiet for a second.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“Shh,” he insisted, sitting up straighter. His eyes darted toward the hallway, and he moved to hide on the ground next to the bed, out of view of your doorway.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, a little too loudly.

Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and your mom peeked in, her expression equal parts annoyed and groggy.

“Y/N,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s almost midnight. Keep it down, okay?”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry, Mom. I’ll quiet down.”

She lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping the room. You held your breath, praying she wouldn’t notice the second pair of sneakers tucked gently away next to your your bedside table. Thankfully, she just nodded and shuffled back down the hallway.

The second the coast was clear, you turned to Mark, your heart still racing.

“How the hell did you know she was coming?” you hissed, keeping your voice low this time.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “I, uh… I just… I don’t know, I guess I heard her footsteps?”

“Footsteps?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Mark, I didn’t hear anything. How did you hear her through a closed door? And while we were talking, no less?”

He let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a little too casually. “Maybe I’ve just got good ears?”

“Good ears my ass,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been weird all day. First in gym, then in class, and now this. What’s going on with you?”

Mark froze for a second, his expression flickering between panic and guilt. “Nothing! I swear, it’s—nothing. You’re imagining things.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, okay” you said sarcastically, not realizing how close you were to the truth.

Mark’s laugh came out a little too forced this time. “Anyways, we should probably finish the movie, it’s getting late.”

You didn’t push the issue—for now. But as the movie played on, you couldn’t help but glance at him, your curiosity growing stronger with every passing minute.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

After your slightly strange movie night, everything feels... normal. You’re at school with Mark again, cracking jokes about your teachers and helping each other survive the monotony of class. 

After school, you walk home together as usual. Mark’s quiet, more so than usual, and you figure he’s just tired. He always seems tired these days.

"Are you okay?" you ask, nudging his arm.

He flinches slightly, then forces a smile. "Yeah, I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well last night."

You nod, though his answer doesn’t quite satisfy you.

Later that evening, you decide to take a quick walk to clear your head. The streets are quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights casting long shadows. You’re only a few blocks from your apartment when you hear shouting—a man yelling for help. Your heart pounds as you turn the corner and see a masked figure—Spider-Man—swinging into action.

It’s like watching a movie come to life. He moves with incredible speed and grace, disarming the attacker in seconds. The victim stumbles to safety, and Spider-Man barely pauses before disappearing into the night.

You stand frozen, your mind racing. Spider-Man isn’t supposed to be real—not in your world, not in your life. And yet, here he is, saving people in your neighborhood.

When you finally make it home, Mark texts you almost immediately:

Hey, you okay?

The timing feels weirdly coincidental.

Yeah... just saw something crazy on my walk. Spider-Man.

There’s a pause before he replies.

Mark: Whoa, no way. He’s around here?

You: Guess so. It was... surreal.

Mark: Sounds scary. You’re sure you’re okay?

Something about the way he asks makes you hesitate. He sounds so concerned, almost like he’s talking to himself.

You: Yeah. Are YOU okay?

Mark: Me? Of course. Just checking on you. I saw your location said you were outside.

You chastise yourself for not remembering he had your location. You’d have probably done the same thing if his location said he was outside in the middle of the night. Though, you’d never had the habit of checking his.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Saturday nights are sacred.

Since middle school, you and Mark have had this unspoken rule: no matter what, Saturday nights are yours. Whether it’s binging your favorite show, building Legos, or debating which movie series is superior, it’s the highlight of your week.

You’ve been looking forward to tonight all day. After tossing a blanket over the couch and setting out snacks—chips for you, candy for him—you settle in, phone in hand, waiting for Mark’s familiar knock.

He’s usually punctual, arriving right when he says he will. But tonight, the minutes stretch into an hour, and he’s still not there.

You glance at your phone. No texts, no missed calls.

You: Where are you? I’m starting to think you forgot about me.

No response.

You frown but try not to overthink it. Maybe he got caught up with something. You wait another fifteen minutes, then send another text.

You: Mark?? You better not be ditching me for one of your dumb guy friends.

Still nothing. Anxiety begins to creep in, though you try to push it aside. He’s probably just running late.

An hour later, you’ve run out of chips and excuses for his absence.

You: I’m officially mad at you.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve all but given up. You leave one last text before tossing your phone onto the coffee table.

You: Hope you’re okay. Call me when you see this.

Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. Your mind races with possibilities—some silly, some serious. Is he okay? Did something happen? You brush them off as anxious thoughts running wild and try to fall asleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next morning, your phone buzzes with a message from Mark.

Mark: I’m so sorry, Y/N. I got sick out of nowhere last night. Took some medicine and completely passed out. I didn’t even see your texts until now.

You exhale, relieved but annoyed.

You: SICK? You ditched me because you were sick? I’m so offended.

Mark: I’m sorryyyyy. 😭 I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

You: You better be glad I didn’t watch our show without you.

Mark: You wouldn’t dare.

You: Guess you’ll never know. 

His usual playfulness makes you smile, but the knot in your chest hasn’t completely loosened. You know it’s dumb, but a small part of you wonders if there’s more to the story. Mark never misses your hangouts. You’re always the first to know if something’s wrong. And as much as you want to believe his excuse, the insecurity that’s been gnawing at you for years whispers otherwise.

He’s your only real friend, and deep down, you’re terrified of losing him. You’re terrified that one day he’ll outgrow you, that he’ll find someone cooler, funnier, or just... better.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. Mark said he was sick, and you believe him. There’s no reason to think otherwise. But as you put your phone down and get ready for the day, you can’t help but feel like something isn’t adding up.

You stare at your phone, willing it to buzz with a new message from Mark, but it stays silent. You’ve already texted him a few times this afternoon, and while he usually responds by now, today it’s been almost two hours since your last message. Your thumb hovers over your screen, ready to send something, but you stop yourself. Maybe he’s busy. It’s fine. It’s not like you need him to text you back right away, right?

But you can’t shake the growing discomfort in your chest.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Ever since his message about getting sick a few weeks ago, he’s been a little off. Sure, he’d apologized for missing your hangout, but now, it’s like nothing has changed. During the day, he’s the same—always goofy, friendly, and acting normal when you see him at school. But by the time night falls, he’s almost always gone—his responses slow, often one-word answers, and sometimes, he doesn’t respond at all. And this has gone on for almost a month now.

The more time passes, the more you can’t help but feel like he’s distancing himself from you, like you’ve somehow become a burden on him. You try to tell yourself you’re overthinking it. He’s probably just busy, right? But deep down, there’s a voice whispering that maybe he’s just getting tired of you. You wish you could ignore it, but the insecurity festers, eating away at your confidence with every minute he doesn’t reply.

By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve already sent him two more texts, no response. You try to sleep, but your mind is spinning. Is he with someone else? You hate that thought, but it keeps creeping in. Maybe he’s found new people to hang out with. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You throw your phone aside, frustrated with yourself, with him, and with the situation. Why do I care so much? You’ve never been the type to need constant validation from someone else, but with Mark? It’s different. You’ve always been there for each other, always shared your time. You didn’t need anything more from him, but now… it feels like you’re losing him.

Then, you get a message.

It's from Mark. Your heart jumps into your throat as you open it. “Hey, sorry. I got totally wrapped up in homework, we still on for tomorrow?”

You read it over and over, but something feels off. It’s a good excuse—too good, maybe. You want to believe him, but part of you wonders if he’s just avoiding you now. He was so there for you, always texting and hanging out after school. But now? It feels like he’s just gone, like a ghost. You don’t know what to believe.

“Can’t, sorry. I have plans with Giselle.”

There’s a pause before his reply comes through. You can almost hear the indifference in his words, even though you know you’re probably reading into it too much.

“Ah, alright. Have fun.”

The message feels too short, too casual. You frown at your phone, biting your lip. The nagging feeling in your chest grows stronger. Has he really just become that indifferent?

You text him back quickly, trying to keep things light, trying to ignore the hurt that lingers in your words. “Yeah sorry, we’ll definitely hang out later this week though, haha.”

But even as you send the message, a part of you wonders if this week is going to be just like the last—another week of him acting normal at school, you trying to text him all night, waiting for responses that don’t come, waiting for a friendship that doesn’t feel the same anymore.

You let out a sigh, toss your phone aside, and climb into bed, your angsty playlist drifting through your ears as you struggle to sleep.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The bass from the music thumps through your chest as you step into the crowded living room. The lights are dim, the room filled with a haze of colored neon and swirling bodies moving to the rhythm. It’s your first real party in a long time, and the unfamiliar atmosphere is slightly overwhelming. You spot Giselle across the room, her blonde hair shining under the strobe lights as she waves you over.

You smile, grateful for her invitation. The group of people she’s hanging with seems friendly enough, laughing and chatting as they pass drinks around. Giselle introduces you to a few of her friends, and you slip into the crowd easily enough, trying to shake off the tension that’s been building in you ever since Mark stopped replying to your texts.

You’ve been pushing it down all night, focusing on the fun of the party, but it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Is he really busy with homework? Or is he avoiding me? You try not to dwell on it. After all, he’s always been a little unpredictable—he’s probably just caught up with his own stuff.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting along with Giselle’s friends. You chat with a girl named Ningning who shares a class with you, and you laugh at her sarcastic humor. It’s nice. It feels good to be out and talking with people who aren’t just classmates or distant acquaintances. But still, in the back of your mind, you’re aware of the emptiness Mark’s absence has left. Every few minutes, you glance at your phone, hoping to see a message from him, but there’s nothing.

You tell yourself it’s fine—he’s just busy. But every time you check, you feel a little more disappointed. 

The music pulses louder, and you take a deep breath, shaking off the thoughts of your best friend. Giselle is pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor, laughing as she drags you into the crowd. You let yourself get swept up in the fun for a while, your body moving to the beat, the drinks in your system giving you a comfortable, carefree buzz.

You laugh, enjoy yourself, and even manage to pull out a few impressive dance moves—at least according to Giselle, who’s cheering you on. The night seems to go by in a blur of music and people, the few drinks you’d had adding to the fuzziness of the night’s events.

But as the night winds down, you find yourself standing near the door, chatting with Ningning again. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, a little embarrassed that you’re still hoping for a text from him.

You frown when you see the time: it’s late, and you still haven’t heard from him. You were starting to wonder if you should text him, maybe check in, when Giselle appears beside you. “Hey, you okay?” she asks, her eyes narrowing with a knowing look. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking about stuff,” you say vaguely, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

She nods. “You know, it’s okay to have fun without him. Sometimes you gotta do your own thing, right?”

You nod along, but her words hit deeper than she probably intended. Why does it feel like I can’t? you think, but you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you force another smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Giselle offers to drive you home, but you shake your head. “I think I’ll walk. Get some fresh air. Plus, I’ve got pepper spray, just in case,” you joke, trying to ease the mood.

She laughs, but her eyes linger on you for a moment. “Alright, take care of yourself, okay?”

You wave her off as she heads toward the car with her friends. You linger by the door for a moment, a small hesitation gnawing at you, but then you push it aside. Walking will help clear your head.

As you step out into the cool night air, the city streets are alive with the usual hum of late-night activity. There’s a slight chill to the breeze, but you don’t mind it. You wrap your jacket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the effects of the alcohol beginning to wear off as the cold air helps sober you up. The walk is quiet, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe a little easier.

But even though the night is peaceful, your mind still drifts back to Mark. His silence feels like an anchor in your chest, something heavy and uncertain, and as you walk, you can’t stop wondering what’s going on. You’ve spent every Saturday night together for as long as you can remember. And now... now he’s just disappearing.

You try to shake off the feeling, telling yourself it's nothing. Maybe you’re just overthinking. Again. But the more you walk, the more your thoughts spiral, until you hear the footsteps behind you.

Before you can even react, a hand grabs your wrist, spinning you around so quickly that your heart jumps into your throat. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a split second, you can’t even process what’s happening. The streetlights cast long shadows on the sidewalk, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you can’t make out the guy’s face. All you feel is the cold, tight grip on your wrist.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, panic surging through you. You try to pull away, but his hand tightens, and a sickening, familiar feeling spreads through you.

"Hey! Let go of me!" you shout, your voice shaking.

“Quiet, bitch,” the man growls, his breath hot against your neck. You struggle, but his grip tightens, and your pulse quickens.

Just as the fear begins to settle over you, you hear a soft whoosh, followed by a thud that’s too heavy to be anything but a person.

Without warning, the man’s grip on you loosens, and before you can even react, you're yanked off the ground and pulled up a nearby fire escape ladder, higher and higher until you’re standing on a rooftop. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to steady your breath. You glance around, completely disoriented, when the voice of the masker figure breaks the silence. 

You let out a breath, in awe of the Spiderman being right in front of you.

But before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Stay here,” he orders, his tone sharp as he drops you onto a crate by the edge of the roof. “I’ll handle it. Don’t move.”

You don’t even have time to ask him what’s going on before he’s gone, leaving you sitting there alone in the dark, your mind spinning. What the hell just happened? Is this... real? You glance around, still trying to process the fact that Spiderman—the very same guy you’d heard about in the news, the one everyone in the city seems to talk about—just saved you from some creep.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the sound of struggle below, muffled voices, and a distant thud as Spiderman confronts the man you were just seconds away from being attacked by. It’s all over within moments, and before you can fully grasp the situation, Spiderman returns, landing effortlessly on the roof beside you.

He glances at you, his mask giving nothing away, but you notice the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast for someone who should be used to fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer now. You nod quickly, trying to push the terror away.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing hard. “Thanks for saving me.”

A long silence stretches between you before you, almost hesitantly, ask, “Did... did you... kill him?”

The question comes out before you can think better of it, but the moment you say it, his head whips toward you in complete shock.

“What?!” he exclaims, his voice full of disbelief. “No! I—no, I didn’t kill him! I just... I knocked him out. I’m not... I don’t... that’s not what I do.”

You blink, surprised at how horrified he sounds. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, I... I don’t know how these things work.”

Spiderman’s shoulders visibly relax, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s fine. Just... just stay safe, okay? I’ll get you home.”

You nod, your heart still beating erratically in your chest. Part of you is still processing everything, but another part of you is grateful. Grateful for Spiderman being here tonight, for protecting you when no one else would have been able to.

“Um, thank you again,” you say, your voice softer this time.

His eyes behind the mask seem to soften, but you’re not sure. “I can take you home,” he offers, voice low, almost too gentle, slightly familiar but you’re unable to place exactly where you’d heard it before.

You blink up at him, still in shock, and then remember where you are. “I’m almost home… I can walk the rest of the way.”

But the more you think about it, the more you realize you really don’t want to walk. Not after what just happened. Plus, his presence feels safe in a way you can’t explain.

Spiderman seems to notice the hesitation in your expression, and before you can change your mind, he’s already swooping down, his webbing attaching to a nearby building. “Hold on tight.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you barely process his words. Before you can question how he knows where you live, he shoots another web, pulling you along with him. Your feet leave the ground, and you’re soaring through the city. The wind rushes against your face, and everything is a blur of lights and rooftops.

The whole trip is a disorienting whirl, but it’s somehow comforting in its chaos. Spiderman moves like he’s done this a thousand times, his grip tight around your waist as he swings from one building to the next. The world below you is a distant hum, but your thoughts are still clouded with questions.

And then, as quickly as it began, you find yourself standing on the fire escape of your apartment building. Your legs are a little shaky, but it doesn’t matter. You’re safe.

“Here we are,” he says, glancing up at your window.

You stare at him, still slightly tipsy from the night’s events, but not questioning how he knows where you live. After all, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t make sense, and you don’t really care. All that matters is that you’re safe now.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable under his watchful gaze.

He nods again, his hand slipping back to his side as he stands a little straighter. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t walk alone at night again. It’s... not safe. Especially for pretty girls like you.”

You nod, still too stunned to respond properly. You watch as he shoots a web up to the fire escape and swings back into the darkness. You stand there for a moment, your thoughts racing, wondering if the whole thing really just happened. It’s only when you step inside your apartment and hear the quiet of the night that it hits you. Spiderman just saved me, not only that but he’d called you pretty too.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

The next Monday morning at school, everything feels a little surreal. You’re walking through the hallways, mind still reeling from that night’s events. You still haven’t told anyone, and you feel like you’re about to burst. How in the world had Spiderman been so close to you? And you were actually talking to him, like... you know, a real conversation.

As you sit down next to Mark in homeroom, you can’t help but grin. You need to tell someone about the whole thing, and who better than your best friend? You tap his shoulder and lean in close, trying to act casual but failing miserably.

“Oh my God, Mark, you won’t believe what happened last night,” you blurt out, eyes wide with excitement.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight chuckle escaping him as he looks over at you. “What happened? You go to a party or something?”

You shake your head, not able to contain the grin that stretches across your face. “Worse. I got mugged.” You pause for dramatic effect, watching his eyes widen with concern. “But wait—before you freak out, I was saved. By Spiderman.”

Mark freezes for a second, blinking at you in disbelief. “Spiderman? You’re serious? Like, the Spiderman?”

You nod, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed as you recount the entire wild encounter, from the guy grabbing you to being yanked onto the roof and saved by Spiderman. You try to make it sound as casual as possible, but you can’t help but feel the thrill of telling someone about your personal brush with New York’s most famous hero.

“That’s insane,” Mark mutters, clearly processing the details. “Wait, so... what happened next?”

“Well, he saved me,” you say, leaning in like you’re sharing a secret. “But... I’m not gonna lie, Mark, he was lowkey hot.” 

Mark splutters, his face twisting with confusion. “What? You don’t even know what he looks like.”

You shrug dramatically, twirling your pen between your fingers. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not about looks. It’s how he was so protective, you know? The way he grabbed me and made sure I was okay... it was hot.”

You watch Mark's face turn a shade of red as his expression shifts from surprise to something else entirely—discomfort, maybe? You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to hold it together.

“No way. You’re a freak, bro,” Mark says, shaking his head and trying to laugh it off. “Like, seriously? You’re crushing on a guy you don’t even know?”

You roll your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “I don’t judge your crushes, so don’t judge mine. It’s called appreciating someone for more than just their looks.”

Mark scowls, but there’s a nervous twitch in his eyes. “I’m not judging. But... I don’t know, it’s just a little weird. You’ve got a crush on Spiderman?”

You smile, feeling a little awkward. “I guess. He’s mysterious, heroic... and I mean, he was pretty hot for someone wearing a mask.” You nudge him playfully, watching the way he looks more and more flustered.

Mark shrugs, but you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. But... I guess if he saved you... that’s... kinda cool.”

It’s hard to ignore the little spark of something else in his voice, even if he’s trying to mask it with humor. You grin to yourself, filing the moment away. You’re not sure why, but it feels like there’s a shift between you two—something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You press the issue no further, but the day goes on, and you can't stop thinking about Mark’s weird reaction. Sure, he’s your best friend, but the way he acted just now... it made you wonder. Could he possibly feel something more for you?

You find yourself entertaining the idea of Mark having a crush on you, before shaking your head and brushing the thought away. There’s no way Mark liked you, if he did, he would have told you.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

As the week drags on, you can't shake the thought of Spiderman. Sure, you were trying to move on, but it’s hard when you keep running into him every time you step out of the apartment at night. You’ll be walking home from the store, or maybe grabbing dinner with Giselle and Ninging, and bam—there he is, swinging between buildings or dropping down from some rooftop. It’s like he’s everywhere.

At first, you try to brush it off, telling yourself it’s just a coincidence. But then, it starts feeling a little too suspicious, almost like he’s... following you? Or looking out for you?

One night, you’re walking back from your favorite coffee shop, the crisp air of early fall making you hug your jacket tighter. You’ve been texting Mark, as usual, but his replies are slow—too slow. You roll your eyes at the screen, sighing. You swear, it’s like he’s avoiding you or something.

As you round the corner toward your apartment building, you feel that familiar shift in the air, that sensation of something just slightly off. You glance up and sure enough, you spot him—Spiderman—perched on a rooftop above you, his figure silhouetted against the dim streetlights.

You pause in your tracks, raising a brow. “Really? Again?”

Spiderman tilts his head, as if amused by your reaction. He crouches down and lands lightly in front of you, his movements fluid and graceful.

“You’re following me, huh?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but you don’t have to babysit me.”

Spiderman straightens, a soft chuckle escaping from behind the mask. “I’m not babysitting,” he says with a playful edge. “Just making sure you don’t run into any... unsavory people.”

You roll your eyes, but there's a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, I’m fine. Been walking these streets for years now.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s considering your words. “I’m still here. Just in case.” His voice is a little warmer than usual, though it’s hard to tell beneath the mask.

You feel a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up. “You’re a real hero, huh?” you quip. “Just swinging in, saving the day. But honestly? I’m starting to get tired of it. I mean, you’re cute and all, but this whole ‘mysterious stranger’ act? It’s getting old.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and as soon as they do, you realize—you’ve just said that to Spiderman.

You quickly recover, trying to act casual. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m just getting a little tired of feeling like I’m in some weird superhero movie, you know?”

Spiderman doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he steps a little closer, his posture still relaxed but with a certain intensity in his eyes—well, you imagine that’s what’s behind the mask.

“Maybe I should back off for a while then,” he says after a beat, his tone more thoughtful. “You’ve got it all under control, right?”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up how your heart is suddenly beating a little faster. “Yeah, I’ve got it under control, obviously.”

“Really?” Spiderman says, his voice a little too calm for your liking. Before you can even process what’s happening, he webs your phone right out of your hand, and you gasp, stumbling back in surprise as it hovers in midair for a second before landing gently in his palm.

You blink up at him in disbelief, your mouth hanging open. “What the hell? Give that back!”

He shrugs, unfazed. “What if someone mugs you again? No offense, but your reflexes suck.”

Your jaw clenches at the jab, but you can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Thanks, I feel so much safer now. I wasn’t even worried about it.”

You reach for your phone, and he hands it back to you, but there’s a look in his eyes—concern, maybe? Or just frustration. “You might not worry, but I do. You seem like you’ve got your act together, but... I don’t know. Maybe I’m just looking out for you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat in the gesture. "Fine," you say, a little too quickly. "I guess I can let you walk with me then. But just so you know, you’re not my personal bodyguard, alright?”

Spiderman grins behind his mask, a little triumphant, but he falls in step behind you. You try to ignore the way his presence feels different—more constant now, like it’s a part of the night itself. You walk for a few minutes, the quiet of the city streets pressing in on you. You try to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, but the weight of the past few days catches up with you, and you find your shoulders slumping a little more with each step.

Spiderman notices, of course. You can feel his eyes on your back, studying you, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Finally, he speaks up, his voice softer than usual. “You wanna talk about it? I mean, you’ve been acting a little... off tonight.”

You look over your shoulder at him, surprised that he even noticed. But you don’t hesitate. Maybe it’s the anonymity of the mask. Maybe it’s the strange comfort of having a stranger to vent to. But suddenly, you just want to unload.

“Yeah,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I mean, I’ve been dealing with some... stuff lately.”

You kick a rock along the sidewalk as you walk, the soft scrape of it filling the silence. “I’ve got this friend, Mark, right? We’ve been close for years—like, best friends. We have this thing where every Saturday, no exceptions, we hang out. Watch movies, talk... whatever. We’re just... us. But lately? He’s been acting weird. Like, really weird.”

Spiderman doesn’t interrupt. He just walks beside you, giving you the space to talk.

“It’s like he’s avoiding me,” you continue, your words gaining momentum. “I get that people get busy, but he’s never like this. He’s slow to reply, sometimes doesn’t even respond at all, and when he does, it’s like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even know what happened. It’s just... really frustrating. And I don’t even know if I should ask him about it, because I don’t want to come off as desperate or clingy.”

You kick another rock, your frustration spilling over, and for a second, you feel a little ridiculous. Here you are, talking about Mark to a guy you don’t even know, someone who wears a mask and swings from rooftops. But the words come tumbling out anyway, all of your insecurities and confusion finding a strange kind of release in the cool air of the city.

Spiderman stays quiet for a moment, processing. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, like he’s trying to make sense of your ramblings. “Sounds like he’s pulling away for some reason,” he says thoughtfully. “But I’m sure there’s a reason. Maybe he’s just going through something, you know?”

You shrug, feeling the weight of the uncertainty settle in your chest. “I don’t know. I just... I want things Spiderman listens quietly, his footsteps matching yours as you walk. You don’t notice the way his posture shifts, or the way his mask seems to obscure any hint of emotion—though somehow, you feel like he’s really paying attention.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks again, his voice thoughtful and a little gentler than before. “You know, I think you should just talk to him. Mark, I mean.”

You stop in your tracks, looking over at him in surprise. “What?”

Spiderman shrugs, his tone almost casual, but his words don’t match the nonchalance. “I get it. You’re frustrated, and you don’t want to be the one to chase him down. But sometimes, people just need a nudge. If you really want things to go back to the way they were... maybe you should just be honest with him. Ask him what’s up.”

You frown, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “But what if I look desperate? Or, I don’t know... what if he doesn’t care?”

Spiderman stops walking too, his voice quiet but steady when he answers. “He cares. I’m sure of it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised by how certain he sounds. “How could you possibly know that? You don’t even know him.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t need to. I can tell from the way you talk about him. The way you light up when you mention him. You’re not the kind of person who just forgets someone you care about. And trust me, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to lose that either. Whatever’s going on, I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the nearest streetlamp. His words stir something inside you—something you’ve been avoiding all week. The idea that Mark really does care makes your heart feel a little lighter, but the fear is still there. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I make things worse by trying to talk to him?”

Spiderman leans against the wall next to you, his posture relaxed. “Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you know him. I’m sure you’ve been through rough patches before and you worked through them. You just need to give him the chance to explain himself. I think that’s all he needs—someone to really talk to. And if you don’t do it, you’ll always be wondering what could’ve happened.”

You chew on your lip, his words hanging in the air between you. There’s a weight to them, something that feels... true. Something that makes you want to listen to him, to take his advice. But still, there’s a stubborn part of you that wants to push it all aside. “I just... don’t want to get hurt. Again.”

Spiderman straightens up, his tone surprisingly gentle. “You won’t. Not if you’re honest. Trust me.”

You glance up at him, your gaze softening as you look into the mysterious eyes behind his mask. He sounds so sure of himself.

“Thanks,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him. “I’ll think about it.”

He nods once, giving you an almost encouraging smile beneath the mask. “I know you will.”

You both fall silent as you continue walking, but the weight in your chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe, just maybe, Spiderman is right. Maybe you do need to talk to Mark.

Maybe it won’t be as scary as you think.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

A few days after your conversation with Spiderman, things between you and Mark seem to settle down a bit. He’s still a little distant at times, but when he’s around, you notice he’s more present, his smiles more genuine, his conversations less distracted. It’s not the same as before—things can’t just magically go back to normal—but there’s something warmer there, something more honest.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting at your favorite spot in the courtyard, you catch him coming toward you, looking a little tired but still smiling like he’s actually glad to see you. You can’t help but feel a pang of relief. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of these simple, casual hangouts, and you’ve missed it more than you care to admit.

He sits beside you, just like old times, and you both start talking like you haven’t missed a beat. But the conversation isn’t just surface-level anymore. He seems more open, more real.

After a while, you can’t hold back anymore. The thought has been gnawing at the back of your mind for days, and it’s finally time to ask.

You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, though your heart is thumping in your chest. "Hey, Mark. Can I ask you something?"

He glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly, but he’s still listening. “Of course. What’s up?”

You take a deep breath, trying not to come off too confrontational. "Why did you ghost me before? I mean, I know you were busy, but... you weren’t even texting me back. I didn’t want to push, but it felt like you were avoiding me."

His expression hardens for just a moment, like he's bracing himself. He looks away for a second, running a hand through his hair. "I was... going through something. Something personal."

You wait, your heart rate picking up. The words hang between you two, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t.

You want to press him, ask for more details, but you don’t. There’s something about the way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—that makes you feel like he’s not ready to share. You nod, leaning back against the bench. “Okay... But you know, you can always talk to me, right?”

Mark hesitates, eyes flicking back to you, a mix of gratitude and something else passing through his gaze. "I know," he says, his voice soft but firm. "But right now, I really can’t. I wish I could, but..." He lets out a sigh, his shoulders dropping. "It’s complicated, and I don’t want to drag you into it."

You feel the weight of his words, something about them striking you deeper than you expected. There’s an intensity there, a desperation almost, that you weren’t prepared for. You stare at him for a moment, your gaze softening as you consider his words.

"I trust you, Mark," you say quietly. "And I know you’re not lying to me. So... if you can’t tell me yet, it’s okay. Just know that I’m here, whenever you’re ready."

There’s a long pause as he looks at you, like he’s trying to read the sincerity in your eyes. Finally, he looks away, nodding slowly.

"Thanks. That... means a lot to me." His voice cracks a little, and you can tell how much he appreciates your understanding. "I really am sorry for pulling away, though. I never wanted to hurt you."

You smile softly, feeling the tension between you two finally start to ease. "I know you didn’t. But I’m here, okay? Just like you said—whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere."

He gives a small, grateful smile, his eyes warmer than they’ve been in a while. "Thanks... I really mean it."

From that moment on, things slowly start to return to a sense of normalcy. Mark isn’t completely open with you yet—whatever is going on with him still seems like something he’s not ready to share—but there’s a shift. There’s no more distance. He’s trying, and you’re trying, and that’s enough for now.

And as you walk to class together the next day, you feel a little lighter. Maybe things aren’t perfect, and maybe they never will be, but you’re still here for each other. And somehow, that’s all you need for now.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Things have started to settle into a new rhythm, one that’s almost comfortable. You and Mark are hanging out again, like before, laughing and joking and just enjoying each other’s company. But now, there's something different in the air—something lighter, maybe even flirtatious. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He'll tease you, throw out little compliments that make your heart race, and you’ve noticed the way he looks at you when you’re talking, his eyes softer than usual.

You can’t deny it—you’re starting to feel the spark again, that chemistry you thought you had maybe lost when things got weird. But you're also talking to Spiderman regularly now, and every time you do, you feel like you’re walking this tightrope between two worlds—one where everything feels so right with Mark, and one where he is a complete mystery. You don’t even realize it yet, but you're starting to fall for both of them in very different ways.

You hadn’t expected to run into him tonight, but here he is, perched on the fire escape across the street, casually leaning against the rail. It’s become a weird sort of routine lately—your nightly walks where you’d end up talking to Spiderman. It’s comforting in its own way, even if you still don’t know who’s behind the mask.

You slow your pace and look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re stalking me now?”

Spiderman chuckles, the sound muffled by the mask but still warm enough to make your chest flutter. “If I’m stalking you, then you’re stalking me, too,” he teases, swinging down lightly to land in front of you. “What’s up tonight?”

You shrug, adjusting the straps of your bag over your shoulder. “Not much. Just out to clear my head.”

The city feels quieter at night. The hum of the busy streets seems far away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you standing there in the stillness. You’ve gotten used to his company in the past couple of weeks, and there’s a sense of comfort in the anonymity between you. A part of you almost wishes you could talk to him more. After everything with Mark, it’s nice to have someone to listen, someone who isn’t involved in the mess.

He notices the shift in your demeanor, and you can tell by the tilt of his head that he’s waiting for you to speak.

You let out a deep breath, gathering your courage. You hadn’t planned on telling him this, but somehow it just comes out. “I think I’m in love with Mark,” you say, voice quieter than usual, almost scared to even say it out loud.

His posture stiffens for a second, though you can’t see his expression under the mask. “Mark?” he repeats, sounding genuinely surprised. “Like, your best friend Mark?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. I mean... I don’t know. It’s confusing. We’ve been friends forever, and now it’s like I can’t get him out of my head. Lately, he’s been like flirting, I think?”

“Flirting?” he asks, his tone curious, almost teasing. “What do you mean?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing nervously. “I don’t know, he’s just been way nicer lately? Texting me more, teasing me... It’s like he’s trying to get closer to me or something.”

You glance around, unsure of how to continue, suddenly feeling a little silly talking about your boy problems to Spiderman. You rub the back of your neck and look away, trying to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know if I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m just reading into things. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long. He’s always been nice to me, but now it’s... different. It’s making me crazy. I don’t know what to think.”

Spiderman watches you quietly, his posture still, though there’s something in the way he holds himself that makes you feel like he’s really paying attention. “You deserve an answer,” he says after a pause, his voice low but certain. “You deserve to know how he feels, one way or the other.”

You look up at him, surprised by his words. “You think so?”

He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. You can’t keep guessing forever. I mean, I’m not saying it’s easy to talk about feelings, but it’s the only way to know for sure.”

You bite your lip, nodding slowly. You want to believe him, you want to believe that talking to Mark is the right thing to do, but the idea of being rejected still stings. “Yeah... I guess you're right. I’ve been avoiding talking to him about it. I’m scared of what might happen if I do.”

Spiderman steps closer, his voice soft and reassuring. “If he’s your friend, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t... then at least you’ll know where you stand.”

You sigh deeply, feeling the weight of his words. He’s right, of course. You’ve been avoiding the conversation with Mark because you’re afraid of what might happen, but maybe it’s time to face it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a little lighter. “I’m not sure I’d have the courage to do it if you hadn’t said something.”

“No problem,” he replies, a teasing note in his voice. “I mean, I’m just a friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Helping people is kind of my thing.”

You laugh a little, but it’s a mix of relief and gratitude. “You’re way too nice to be a superhero.”

He shrugs, though you can’t see it through the mask. “I do what I can. But seriously, take my advice. Talk to him. He’s probably just as confused as you are.”

You smile, feeling a little more confident now. “I will. I promise.”

Spiderman gives you a nod of approval before his posture shifts, signaling that it’s time to go. “Alright. Go get some sleep. You’ve got this.”

You watch as he swings up to the rooftops, disappearing into the night, and for the first time in a while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—you can start figuring things out with Mark.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You don’t even see it coming.

One moment, you’re walking back from the corner store with a bag of snacks, minding your own business. The next, someone grabs you, and your heart leaps into your throat. A rough voice snarls in your ear, “Where’s your friend Spiderman?”

Panic overtakes you, and all you can manage is a confused stammer. You’re shoved into the back of a van, heart racing as you piece together what’s happening. Someone must’ve seen you with him that night, or maybe they’ve been watching for longer than you realized.

Your captors don’t wait long to make their demands clear. “You tell him to show up, or things get messy,” one says, holding up your phone. They want you to call him. The problem is, you have no idea how.

You stutter, trying to explain that you literally don’t have his phone number.

“Don’t play dumb,” the second man snaps, holding up your phone. “We’ve seen him with you. Call him.”

“I can’t—”

Your words are cut off as the van jerks to a halt. The two men exchange alarmed glances, and then you hear it: a thud on the roof.

“What the hell was that?” one mutters, pulling out a weapon.

The next sound is unmistakable—the sharp thwip of a web. The van rocks violently as the door is ripped clean off, light flooding the cramped space.

And there he is.

Spiderman is a blur of red and blue, launching himself into the van with an acrobatic flip. He webs the first man’s weapon before the guy can react, yanking it away and tossing it aside. The second man lunges at him with a crowbar, but Spiderman ducks, the crowbar smashing into the wall behind him with a deafening clang.

“Stay down,” Spiderman warns, his voice firm but calm.

The first guy doesn’t listen. He charges at Spiderman, only to get a web shot to the face. Spiderman kicks him backward, sending him sprawling onto the van’s floor.

“Are you okay?” Spiderman asks, glancing at you briefly.

You nod, too stunned to speak.

The second guy doesn’t go down as easily. He’s bigger, meaner, and surprisingly agile. He swings the crowbar again, catching Spiderman in the side. The sickening sound of metal against his ribs makes your stomach turn.

Spiderman grunts in pain, stumbling but recovering quickly. He blocks the next swing with his forearm, webbing the crowbar and yanking it from the man’s grasp. “You really don’t learn, do you?” he quips, his voice strained.

Before he can finish, the first guy is back on his feet, armed with a knife. He slashes at Spiderman, who dodges narrowly but takes a glancing cut to his arm.

“Two against one,” Spiderman mutters, “that’s not very fair.”

He shoots a web at the knife, disarming the man, then uses a second web to yank him forward. Spiderman spins, using the man’s momentum against him, and sends him crashing into the wall of the van.

The second guy charges, tackling Spiderman to the ground. They grapple, fists flying, and you can see Spiderman slowing down, his movements less precise. Blood stains his suit where the knife grazed him, and he’s holding his side—likely from the earlier hit.

Your breath catches as the second guy pins him, but Spiderman surprises you, using his legs to flip the man over his head. He’s back on his feet in an instant, delivering a punch that knocks the guy out cold.

Spiderman turns to you, his breathing heavy, his posture slouched. “You’re safe now,” he says, but his voice wavers.

“Safe? You’re bleeding!” you exclaim, rushing to his side.

“It’s fine,” he says, trying to wave you off, but his movements are sluggish, and he’s gripping his ribs tightly.

“It’s not fine,” you argue, your voice rising. “You’re hurt. You need help. Come on, let’s go to my place.”

He hesitates, but when he stumbles slightly, he lets you guide him out of the van.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

You practically drag Spiderman up the fire escape to your bedroom. He’s limping, trying to downplay the extent of his injuries, but you can see the pain etched into his body language—even through the mask.

“Sit,” you order the moment you’re inside, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates, scanning the windows and doors like he’s expecting someone to burst in.

“Relax,” you add. “Nobody followed us.”

With a reluctant nod, he sinks into the couch, groaning softly. You rush to grab your first-aid kit, returning to find him still gripping his side, his masked head tilted back against the cushions.

“Alright,” you say, kneeling beside him. “I need to check your injuries. You’re gonna have to take off the mask.”

He tenses immediately, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Spiderman,” you say firmly, “you can’t breathe properly. I need to check if you’re okay. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”

“No,” he says again, his voice edged with frustration. “I can’t. It’s... complicated.”

You sit back on your heels, crossing your arms. “Complicated? You just saved my life, and now I’m trying to save yours. What’s complicated about that?”

He looks at you for a long moment, the lenses of his mask narrowing slightly. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”

You huff, annoyed. “Fine. At least let me patch up what I can see.”

He allows you to clean the cut on his arm, wincing slightly as you dab antiseptic on it. You notice how quiet he’s gotten, his usual witty banter replaced by a tense silence.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

“I do,” he replies immediately, his tone clipped.

The words hit harder than you expect. You lean back, giving him space, and he stands, wobbling slightly.

“Thanks for the help,” he says, moving toward the window.

“Wait—”

“I’ll be fine,” he cuts you off, stepping onto the ledge. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where he’d been, your chest tight with frustration and worry.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

It’s been days since you last saw Spiderman. Days of walking home late at night and feeling the eerie absence of the one person who always made you feel safe. You tell yourself it’s fine. That he’s busy saving the city or maybe just giving you space. But deep down, you feel the sting of being shut out.

Mark’s been acting strange too. Not like before, when he outright ignored you, but there’s something guarded about him again—like he’s keeping secrets. You don’t know how much more of this you can take.

One evening, as you’re walking home, the silence feels unbearable. The air feels colder, heavier, without the usual sense of someone watching your back. By the time you reach your apartment, your chest feels tight with frustration. You pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent conversations.

Nothing from Spiderman.

Mark’s last text was a brief, “Can’t hang tonight, sorry.”

You shove your phone in your pocket and head straight to Mark’s apartment

When Mark opens the door, he looks surprised—and maybe a little nervous—to see you.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, trying for casual, but there’s a stiffness in his tone.

“Are you avoiding me again?” you blurt out, crossing your arms.

He blinks, clearly caught off guard. “What? No. Why would I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Mark,” you cut him off. “You’ve been weird. You’re barely texting back, and when you do, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells. What’s going on with you?”

He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “I’m just... dealing with stuff, okay? It’s nothing to do with you.”

You step closer, lowering your voice. “You told me to trust you. To believe that you care about me. And I do, Mark. But it feels like you’re shutting me out again, and I can’t take that.”

He lets out a long sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple!” you exclaim. “You’re my best friend, Mark. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something big. But then he stops himself, his jaw tightening.

“I can’t,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stare at him, heart sinking. “Why not?”

“Because if you knew...” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It would change everything. And I can’t risk that.”

Your mind races, frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize how hard it is for me to feel like I can’t talk to anyone? To feel like I’m losing you and—” You stop yourself, clenching your fists. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll stop asking.”

“Y/N...”

“No,” you say firmly, stepping back. “When you’re ready to actually be honest with me, let me know.”

Before he can respond, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the doorway, his expression conflicted.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

Mark can’t stop replaying the look on your face as you walked away. The hurt in your voice, the weight of your words—it gnaws at him. For the first time in his life, he’s truly afraid he might lose you.

He paces his room, running a hand through his hair. Every excuse he’s made to keep his identity a secret feels hollow now. You deserve the truth. And if it costs him everything? At least you’ll know how much you mean to him.

Grabbing a small bouquet of flowers—ones he spotted on the way home earlier—he suits up and swings toward your apartment. The city rushes by beneath him, but for once, he doesn’t revel in the thrill of it. His heart pounds in his chest as he lands on your fire escape, crouching just outside your bedroom window.

With a deep breath, he knocks.

You look up, confused at first, but then your heart skips a beat when you see the familiar figure crouched on the fire escape. Spiderman.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even let him in after how things ended the last time. But then you sigh, walking over and unlocking the window.

“What are you doing here?” you ask flatly, crossing your arms as he steps inside.

He straightens, holding out the small bouquet of slightly squished flowers. “I, uh... I messed up,” he says, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “And I needed to make it right.”

You glance at the flowers, then back at him, skeptical. “You think flowers are gonna fix everything?”

“No,” he admits quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all. But I’m here because... I need to tell you the truth. The whole truth.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “You’re finally ready to take off the mask?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, stepping closer. “But only if you promise not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” you mutter, but your curiosity is piqued.

“Just—close your eyes,” he says, a nervous edge to his voice.

You hesitate for a second but do as he asks. You hear the faint rustle of fabric, the sound of him taking off his mask. Then, gently, he takes your hands in his and places them on his face. His skin is warm under your fingertips, and you can feel the slight tremor of his nerves.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Open your eyes.”

You do—and your breath catches in your throat.

“Mark?”

He winces, giving you a sheepish smile. “Surprise?”

Your hands fall from his face as you take a step back, staring at him in utter disbelief. “What the actual hell?! Mark, you’re Spiderman?!”

“Yeah...” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you, I really did. But I couldn’t. Not until now.”

You blink at him, processing. Suddenly, all the weird behavior, the ditching, the injuries—it all makes sense. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” you say, your voice shaking slightly.

“I wasn’t lying,” he says quickly. “I was just... protecting you. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you stop, taking a deep breath. “Why now, then? Why tell me now?”

“Because I couldn’t lose you,” he says, his voice raw with sincerity. “I know I’ve messed up a lot, and I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for that. But you’re the most important person in my life, and if being honest is the only way to fix this, then... here I am. No more secrets.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his words. You take a step closer, searching his face. “You’re an idiot,” you say quietly.

He nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”

“But I guess... I can forgive you,” you add, your voice softening. “Eventually.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause, the air between you heavy with unspoken feelings.

“So...” you say, tilting your head. “What now?”

“Well,” he says, his smile growing, “I was kinda hoping we could start over. But, like, as more than friends this time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now too. “I guess saving me from a mugger earns you some points.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you meet his gaze, the truth in his eyes making your knees feel weak.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Before either of you can overthink it, you close the distance between you, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it’s been years in the making. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and for once, everything feels right.

Maybe for once Spiderman can have a happy ending.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙

author's note 𝟅𝟈 this was a bitch to finish i'm ngl but i think i'm pretty happy with how it turned out so yay! i love spiderman sm so yk i love spidermark too. anyways leave suggestions for fics in the comments or my inbox pls.

masterlist.

[duckprintspress]

Celebrate Jewish Heritage Month with Queer Jewish Reads!

Shalom Aleichem! May is Jewish Heritage Month, and to celebrate, we asked our contributors for their recommendations of queer books with Jewish characters or/and written by Jewish authors. I (Nina Waters), the owner of Duck Prints Press, am Jewish, so it’s a pleasure to finally be celebrating my own heritage with a themed list. The contributors to the list are: Tris Lawrence, Shea Sullivan, Nina Waters, Adrian Harley, Meera S., Linnea Peterson, and hullosweetpea.

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Make Room for Love by Darcy Liao

Lady Eve’s Last Con by Rebecca Fraimow

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker

DeadEndia by Hamish Steele

Add Magic to Taste Anthology, edited by Nina Waters

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

Beyond the Pale by Elana Dykewomon

Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert

Tell Me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi

The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

Season of Love by Helena Greer

For Never & Always by Helena Greer

Flying Without a Net by E.M. Ben Shaul

Body, Remember: A Memoir by Kenny Fries

Yudah Cohen Short Story Series by Rebecca Fraimow

“Further Arguments In Support of Yudah Cohen’s Proposal to Bluma Zilberman”

“Shaina Rubin Keeps Her Head Under Circumstances Nobody Could Have Expected”

“Gitl Schneiderman Learns to Live With Her In-Laws”

What awesome queer Jewish books did we miss? Let us know!

Find these books on our Goodreads bookshelves, and/or visit the recommendation list in our affiliate shop on Bookshop.org and buy them for yourself!

Join our Book Lover’s Discord server to chat with us about books, fandom and more!

[vsvitrix]

After 6 years, my partner and I think it's finally time to move on from Seattle. We love the city, but it's just gotten too expensive to stay here. Food costs have skyrocketed in the last couple years, rent is higher and higher, even the bus fare went up last year. Without our support system nearby, being disabled and living in Seattle has become untenable and we need to leave.

We're planning to move to a city in Colorado; we'll be near our other partner, and the cost of living is much lower than Seattle. We'll have a more secure community and safety net. However, we're struggling just to keep up with the expenses we have as-is, and need help relocating.

We cannot save to do this, and other than our clothes and essentials, we're going to have to completely start over. Neither of us can drive, and paying movers to drive from Seattle to the new city is over 5 figures ($11,000 on average from the quotes we've gotten), before everything else. We're going to have to rebuy anything that we can't pack into bags. (We will be shipping our computers, because the cost to replace those is far too high).

We're estimating travel costs based on train tickets $650 (about $450 depending on timing with another $200 for food expenses while on the train) as neither of us want to fly or deal with airport security. We'll need to stock the kitchen ($600), and buy new furniture ($2500). We'll need enough for a security deposit ($1000-$1500 depending) and at least one month's rent (another $1000-$2500) as well as at least a second month's rent as a cushion in case one of us takes longer to find work.

We're setting our goal at $15,000 so that if anything goes sideways, we're safe and can get back on our feet without having to ask again. Our current accommodations last until September, so we’re setting the goal for August.

Thank you in advance to everyone who shares and donates—we can’t do this without your help.