#there you see her standing there across the roof

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: baby girls, he we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You rinse out the bowl you used for your oatmeal. It’s only as the back door opens that you notice the roar of the mower’s stopped. You put the porcelain in the dishwasher and shut it as you hear footsteps down the hall. It’s almost ten o’clock. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky greets your back as he enters. “I just put fresh water in the hot tub. Might go for a soak myself, try to loosen up these muscles.” 

You face him, “hot tub?” 

“Oh, yeah. Guess that’s new too.” He chuckles. “Another one of my projects.” 

“Right,” you nod. A sudden buzz makes your jump. 

You look around and scurry across the kitchen to grab your phone. It’s a message from your mom. But why would she text you? Can’t she just come downstairs? 

‘Is Bucky still there?’  

You stare at the message and frown. Huh? 

“Everything okay, doll?” Bucky asks. Your eyes flick up. 

“Um, yeah, erm, it’s my mom...” you shake your head. 

“Right, how’s work going for her?” He plants a hand on the counter and leans. 

“Work? It’s her day off,” you blink. 

“Ah, yeah, she said she didn’t want to wake you up when she left. She got called in. Emergency.” He explains. 

You clutch the phone as you stare at him dumbly. Why didn’t he mention that earlier? Well, it’s not on him, you could have checked. But if she’s gone, why is he still here? 

“Don’t spoil the surprise,” he says, “about the lawn.” 

“I won’t,” you look down and text her back. 

“So how about it? You up for a soak?” He asks again. 

“Um, I’ll think about it. Just gonna chat with my mom,” you waggle your phone at him and meander to the door. 

‘Great. You two can get to know each other.’  

Her answer is disappointing. You thought she’d be surprised, maybe confused. It’s all perfectly normal to them. You’re still adjusting. If she’d told you before you got there, it wouldn’t feel so strange. 

At the same time, you don’t want to let her down. You can’t just ignore her message. You have to try but you feel like you haven’t even had time to settle in. And he’s not the only thing that’s different. Your room doesn’t even feel like yours. 

You stand at the bottom of the stairs. You key in a final reply. ‘Ok’. That’s it. A tepid agreement. 

“Hey,” Bucky surprises you again. “Invitation stands,” he wipes his forehead, his bicep bulging as he does, the muscles of his chest straining. “I’m just going to get in my trunks.” 

“Uh, I... I’ll think about it,” you make yourself take a step up and climb steadily, refusing to look back. 

You stare at the phone. You don’t want to be rude. You’re sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why your mother didn’t mention him. You might do the same in her shoes. After so long being single, she was probably just letting it pan out. 

Still, she could have said something when you were on the train. 

Whatever. It’s not your place to complain. You’re still living under her roof, rent-free, after years of tuition on her dime and a lifetime of dependency. You can pretend like this is all okay. 

You go into your room and shut the door behind you. You wouldn’t have a swim suit in the dresser, you didn’t bother to pack it for college. Wherever your other clothes are, it should be there. You just don’t know where that is. 

A tank top and shorts should do the trick. You prefer that to an actual swimsuit. It won’t feel so revealing.  

You take out a hot pink spaghetti strap shirt and a pair of black shorts. You switch out your clothes, catching your foot in the shorts and tripping slightly. You stand up, shirtless, leaning on the vanity as you get your balance.  

You glimpse your reflection and shy away. You tie the string of the shorts and reach for the tank top. You pull it over your head and check yourself in the mirror. It will do. You hope. 

As you come out of the room, another door opens. You peer down the hall as Bucky emerges from your mother’s room. You gulp and flick your eyes away from him. He wears a pair of light blue shorts, so short you might mistake them for briefs. His thick thighs and torso flex with his movement as he approaches, a towel over his shoulder. 

“You changed your mind?” He asks as he comes closer. 

“Erm, well, I... I’ll give it a try. I’ve never really been in a hot tub, so...” You poke your fingertips together nervously. You don’t want to tell him your mother told you to be social. 

“Great, kinda feel like a loser sitting in there by myself. It’s really too bad your mom had to go in.” He sighs. 

Yeah, it is. You wonder why he didn’t mention it sooner. Or why he’s hanging around. You guess you don’t really know how things work around here anymore. 

“Don’t forget a towel,” he winks as he pats the one on his shoulder. “I’ll go get the cover off and you can come hop on in.” 

He brushes by you, his knuckle glancing off you as he does. You shuffle down to the linen closet and take out a towel. You don’t follow him right away. 

Your stomach is a flurry of nerves. It’s just the oatmeal. It always sits like a lump. You didn’t think about that, you were just hungry. 

You go downstairs and drag your feet to the back door. You come out onto the deck and peer around. The tub sits in the deck, installed where the table used to be. It steams as Bucky steps into it. He sighs and groans, muscles clenching up his back and sides. He must work out a lot. 

You look down at yourself. Self-consciousness creeps over you. It’s been a while since you thought so much about it. You tried not to focus much on your body; as long as you liked what you’re wearing, you don’t worry about what’s underneath. You don’t have the most extravagant taste but you have a few cute pieces. 

He lowers himself into the water and lets out another drone. He shifts around to face you but doesn’t seem to notice you as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. He takes a deep breath so his chest puffs out. 

You set your towel next to his on the small table near the edge. You near and stand at the lip of the tub. Can you just sneak away? 

“Hey,” his voice rolls over the bubbling water, “it’s not bad. Come on. It feels great. It’ll loosen you right up.” 

You nod and bite your lip. You get down on your butt before you ease yourself down onto the seat of the tub. The water steams and spits just beneath your shoulders. It is nice though it does raise a thick sheen across your forehead. 

“Mmm, trust me, when you’re mine age, you’ll need one of these,” he smirks. “So,” he stretches his arms around the frame of the tub, “what’s the plan, doll?’ 

“The plan?” You flap your lashes. 

“For the summer? Beach days with the girls? You wanna invite some friends over? You can have the tub to yourself,” he offers. 

“Mm, no, I... I’m looking for work. Uh, probably send out more applications.” You shrug. 

“Looking for a job? Ah, right, no more school, huh? Exciting. You got the whole world in front of you.” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you reach to rub your neck. 

“I’m sure you’ll still have time to hang out with your friends,” he insists. 

“Uh, I don’t... I don’t really have any,” you utter. You look away and stare at the fence. 

“No? Well, all my buddies are too busy for me. I know how you feel.” He says, “you know, we could be friends.” 

“Um, yeah, maybe,” you look at him again as you chew your lip. His eyes snap up from your chest. You look down and try not to show your horror. Your nipples are entirely visible as the pink fabric clings to you. You cross your arms. “You’ll be busy with my mom.” 

“Not all the time,” he says “You know, ever since she got this promotion, she’s been too busy for me.” 

“Ah, erm, I'm sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know...” 

“Mm, I know why,” he tilts his head. 

You stare at him in confusion. 

“You know a guy like me shouldn’t be kept waiting around. You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you? You can’t help but feel bad knowing I’m left all on my own. Lonely.” He traces a finger along the edge of the tub as he speaks. 

“I... guess. I don’t... know? I just...” You look away again. You can hardly stand the heat of the water as it boils your blood. 

He snickers and you wince as he shifts around the tub, sliding into the seat next to you. He slips his arm behind you as he does. You shrink down and stare at the deck railing. What is he doing? 

“This is nice, isn’t it? Getting to know each other?” His fingers tickle your shoulder as he crowds you. “You know, seems like we have a lot in common, doesn’t it?” 

“Um, erm,” you squirm in the seat. “I think... maybe... I should...” 

“Relax, it won’t do you any good if you don’t relax,” he girds. “I’m just saying, baby girl, seems like we’re both pretty lonely.” 

He leans back into the hot tub and lets his head fall back. You bend your arm, rubbing your other, and fidget. You want to just go but you’re scared to move. You don’t think you’re really afraid of him, he probably won’t stop you, but you’re just all locked up. 

You sit there, staring through the slats at the green lawn. The water babbles and your ears pulse. He continues to caress your shoulder. 

“Mm, baby girl, come on, just let yourself...” he taps your arm, “lean back, huh?” 

You obey. You lean back into the tub and slide down in the seat, trying to mimic him. Your head hits his arm as you recline. It is nice as the jets shoot up your back. 

“Wait, wait, you gotta get in the right...” he grabs your thigh and drags you towards him. “..place. Make sure you hit all the pressure points.” 

As he moves you, you spasm and cry out in surprise. A jet blows right against your shorts, a stream of water that sends tingles through you. You try to move back but he holds you in place. He squeezes your thigh and kneads. 

“Ah, yeah, baby girl, right there? Doesn’t it feel good?” 

You squeak as the water hits your clit through your thin shorts. You put your hand on his and wiggle. That only makes it more intense. Does he know what’s happening? 

“Please...” you gasp. 

“What did I say? Relax,” he continues to rub his fingertips into your thigh. “You’re all tense, baby girl. Let it go.” 

Your eyes round and you contort, trying to take the pressure off your clit. It doesn’t help. You puff out and grab onto his arm without thinking. He needs to let go. You can feel a throbbing inside of you. It hurts. Please, stop. 

The sensation crests and coils through you. Your muscles clench then release all at once. You squeal in shock and shame as your body twitches. You think you just... orgasmed? 

“Baby girl, what is it?” Bucky leans into you. 

“I...” you heave. “I-- nothing.” 

“Mmm, nothing?” His hand crawls up your leg and over your stomach. He twists and bends his arm, cradling your head and turning you to face him. You shiver as he cups your chest through the wet fabric and runs his thumb over the hard bud beneath. “Cause I think you just came in this nice clean water.” He leans in closer until you feel his breath against your lips, “baby girl, I thought you were going to be good for me?” 

[crybabycunt]

Kate: Did you ever think your life as a hired assassin would come to an end because you tossed a girl off a building?

Yelena: (with a coy grin) Not until we made eye contact… then that's precisely how I thought it'd go.

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[luveline]

pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking. 

You jump. 

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious. 

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves. 

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?” 

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?” 

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“Why did you do that?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?” 

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” 

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief. 

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.” 

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.” 

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down. 

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?” 

“She jumped across the roof.” 

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured. 

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.” 

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?” 

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook. 

“Well, clearly I can.” 

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.” 

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.” 

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.” 

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again. 

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry. 

“I had it.” 

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.” 

[byuntrash101]

clutch. - 이페릭스.

clutch: when someone or a team performs really well in important situations.

SYNOPSIS. felix is the last one standing against the last squad. since you don't want to end the night on a loss you give your friend felix a little motivation: "felix, if you clutch this i'll send you my tits"

bsf!felix x f!reader ft. seungmin, smut, mdni

tags. sub!felix, also simp felix (he's got a big fat crush on you), also felix' gorgeous and luscious hair, phone sex, guided masturbation, masturbation (f & m), nudes, use of toys, begging, teasing, pet names (good boy, pretty boy, baby), praising (he deserves 'em, ok??), squirting, orgasms (f & m). wc. 2.9k

a/n. i hope you enjoy because this is pure filth lolzzz. my inspiration comes from a twitcher that was playing val and one of her friends said that to her and she fucking slayed everything. also this is based on apex because i dont play val or lol so yeah.

“Fuck! I’m down” you heard Seungmin wail in your headset. You sighed, annoyed. It was your very last game of the evening and you really didn’t want to end on a loss. Your eyes went up to the corner of the screen again. It was down to the last team and you could have been the champions. But you died in a 2v1 earlier and the team didn’t have anymore respawn beacons. You still had hope to win because Seungmin could surely take them but he was cornered and the other team had the high ground. Felix was the last one standing on your team and well… He wasn’t the best player and the enemy squad was still full. 

Felix was petrified watching all of his squad get slaughtered one by one. He was frantically checking his hiding spot, hearing the steps of the other squad coming in.

“Felix if you clutch this I’ll send you my tits”.

The silence that followed was almost religious. Felix didn’t even think, he didn’t let his nerves take the best out of him at the idea of possibly seeing you in a way he had secretly dreamed of for a long time now. Instead it calmed him, he was in a sort of serene trance. He knew if wanted to get his crush’s nude he had to do this. He had to win.

So he did.

In a second he jumped out of his hiding spot, surprising the healer of the enemy squad and fired first and took them down. He was light as a shadow as precise as an assassin. He heard the footsteps coming in from the left so he circled the building by the right. He jumped on the roof waiting for the last two enemies to find him. One opened the door just beneath Felix he fired, not missing a single shot but the second one quickly came to help his teammate. Felix had to take cover but as the first one was trying to heal he shot again to take them down. He quickly came down the rooftop and made the final blow with his melee weapon. And there it was: you are the champions. Written in red and gold across the screen while epic music played in the background but Felix heard none of it. The song was completely drowned out by the loud cheers of his friends. 

You and Seungmin screamed and jumped. You couldn’t believe what you saw, Felix single handedly took out the entire last squad. When you got up your chair to jump around you were really thankful you swapped for a wireless headset. 

“Broooooo” Seungmin started, “What the fuck was that? You absolute legend.”

“Mate, I don’t even know”

“Lix, that was actually insane!” you chipped in.

The conversation went on and Felix was patiently waiting for someone to bring up what you said earlier. But no one said anything. It was probably a figure of speech or a joke… Yeah, probably a joke. And Felix couldn’t help the little tinge of disappointment that tainted his heart when he heard you say goodnight at the other end of the line.

“I really gotta go, I’m working in the morning” Seungming started.

“Yeah” Felix chuckled, trying his hardest to maintain the euphoria of winning, because somehow he still felt like he lost in the end.

“Good night, Lixie” you whispered.

“Bye” He exhaled, staring at your small icon before the green halo around it disappeared. 

Your picture was smiling right at him and he sighed again picturing you smiling like this tonight. Then he thought of what you said again. He slapped his forehead and frowned at himself. How did he actually believe that?! Of course it was a joke. A stupid joke you would make to your friends… A friend who you love platonically… Platonically and that’s it… Felix had to understand that, he had to accept that. After all these years you probably saw him as a brother. 

He cringed and shook his head at the idea, trying to stop the dreadful train of thoughts before he’d eventually break his own heart. But right when he was hovering above the shut down button the distinct sound of a new message chimed in.

[Attachment received: for_the_goat_my_lixie.jpg]

Just like earlier, Felis didn’t take a second breath, didn’t scramble, his hand was steady when he clicked on it. What the screen then showed knocked the air right out of his lungs. 

You are so beautiful. 

You were wearing your gaming gear, your LED baby blue headset, your hair beautifully tied back, no make up. Your gray demon slayer hoodie was pulled up. You seemingly didn’t wear a bra today because the hoodie was the only thing you needed to lift up to snap the perfect picture of your heavenly tits. 

Felix swallowed thickly, he flipped his long blond hair out of his eyes as they were screwed onto the screen as hot blood rushed to his groin at an alarming rate. He felt dizzy as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. You looked so mischievous, wearing a devilish little smirk slightly crooked, just so playful. Your breasts were squished together and you held the camera with one hand with the other lifting up the hoodie. Your nipples were pebbled. So fucking perfect, Felix thought as his hand found his growing bulge. The perfect size, the perfect color. Perfection. And to top it all off your tongue was sticking out, a long and thick string of saliva was dripping onto your chest, right into the cleavage and rolling down to your nipples, making your skin wet and shiny. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. You were the most erotic thing ever.

[incoming audio call: staydreamgurl]

Felix panicked for a second, almost knocking the ninja energy drink on his custom keyboard.

“Shit” he caught the can before the disaster and picked up the call. 

“Hm-Hello?” Felix tried, his deep voice was careful, almost hesitant. And you chuckled at his awkwardness.

“So,” you started, Felix could hear the same devilish crooked smirk through the phone. “What are you gonna do with it?” You sounded so naughty and Felix almost choked on his saliva, a novel attitude he was not about to start complaining about.

“Hmm… I-I don’t really know yet” He lied, his eyes fluttering to the huge bottle of lotion behind the monitor. 

“Liar” you said, tit for tat.

Fuck.

“You’re gonna jack off to it” 

“Yeah” He chuckled awkwardly again. “I was gonna do that”

“How?”

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“How are you gonna touch yourself to my pic?” There was not an ounce of hesitation in your voice. “Tell me how you’re gonna do it”

“I-I…Hmmm” Felix stammered, he was at a loss for words. This brand new attitude you had, your sultry voice, your pushy, self assured demeanor and the lewd photo that was still full-screen on his monitor. He loved all of that a little too much.

“You want help?”

“What?”

“I could tell you exactly how to do it. You’d just have to listen to me and do what I tell you.”

“Fuck” he let escape, his breath was already short. Was he fucking dreaming? Was it really happening? Was something finally happening? He would have ever imagined this. Not tonight after dreaming about it countless times. It was finally happening. “Hm, yeah, y-yeah I’d love that.” Felix agreed.

“Good boy.” you praised in the same sultry tone, the pet name made Felix’ cock jump between his thighs.

“Grab your lube, your lotion. What do you usually use?” You asked, your voice a little lower, a little quieter too.

“I-I use lotion.” Felix said, reaching behind his monitor and dragging the blue and white bottle to him.

“Oh! So naughty, not so innocent after all, huh?” You chuckled. “Take your clothes off, all of them.” You ordered, and in a split second Felix was completely naked on his chair, his pink nipples were hardening as he pushed his back onto the comfortable gaming chair.

“Are you hard?” you asked in a sinful sigh that had Felix’s heart flutter stupidly.

“Y-Yes” Felix said, struggling not to stroke himself, impatiently waiting for your instructions. “I’m so fucking hard right now.”

“My bare tits get you hard, pretty boy?” You said, a little rasp in the voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

His dick throbbed again as he let out a stifled sigh. He definitely liked the way you were talking to him.

“F-fuck yes they do. And your voice too.” Felix’s usually deep voice sounded ever so slightly more squeaky. “C-can I please touch myself, now?”

“Already begging, huh?” you asked, rather amused.

“Please” Felix huffed quietly. For you he seemed he had only been waiting a couple of minutes but in reality he had been waiting for you for a lifetime. He was so eager for you, so thirsty for more of you in a brand new novel way. A version of you that he never met and only ever dreamt of was suddenly here, suddenly you were real. And he couldn't get to know the new you fast enough.

“Get the lotion in your hand, a good amount. I want it to glide smoothly”

“Yes!” Felix hastened to answer. He extended his hand and pushed on the pump twice, getting a generous dollop of lotion onto his palm.

“Now smear it on yourself. Base to tip, everywhere and don’t forget the balls.” He immediately did as he was told. He hissed quietly at the feeling of the cold lotion on his hot cock. He took the lotion to his base, all the way up to his tip and down to the balls.

“There, there. Good job baby” you cooed and the kind words earned you a small little whimper.

Felix was gripping down at his cock, trying hard not to stroke himself yet, waiting for you. 

“Now, start rubbing your thumb over the tip, tease yourself a little bit for me, baby”

“O-okay” he said, his fist went up his shaft and his thumb circled his tip, teasing the little ridges at the sides and going up to also tease his slit. He gasped at how sensitive he already was.

“Tell me how it feels, baby don’t be shy” you whispered.

“Nghh... It feels s’good but I-I want more” Felix’ voice bordered on a grunt, as his hips involuntarily bucked into his fist. “Please can I stroke it?”

“I really like when you beg” You huffed again, your voice sounded strained. “Keep going baby, I might just say yes”

“Shittt” Felix was still rubbing his tip, growing more sensitive by the second. “pleasepleasepleaseplease, l-let me jack off for you, I’ll be so good for you. I-I… Aaah- I promise”.

“Hmmmm” you hummed in satisfaction. “Good boy, you make me so wet. Can you hear it?”

Just then Felix held his breath, turning up the volume in his headset and he heard the most melodious sounds he’s ever heard. A beautiful symphony of lewd wet noises erupting from your end of the call. It sounded so sinful. 

“I hope you won’t mind that I started without you. I just couldn’t resist fucking myself with my favorite toy right now” you chuckled, almost bashfully, as if you weren’t now spilling the most sinful arrangement of words known to man.

Felix’ eyes grew twice their size as his jaw hung open in surprise, he could have exploded in his hand right there. He would have pledged abstinence for a month to see you right now. Hell, he would have given everything! Everything to see you push the toy inside your wet and dripping little pussy. But he didn’t want to possibly scare you away by asking after waiting for so long so he settled for a less intrusive question.

“H-how is it? The toy? What does it look like?” Felix burned with impatience for more details that would make him imagine you perfectly.

“It’s purple, thick and long. I can’t take it all in but it feels so fucking good.” You confessed, feeling more pleasure coming in with another deep thrust of your wrist.

“Goddamn- Aaah…” Felix sighed as he imagined your dripping little cunt all stretched out by the big purple cock you were holding and mercilessly shoving into your throbbing little pussy.

“Touch yourself now, stroke your cock for me, Felix”

“Fuck yesss” He literally melted as his hand wrapped around his clock and dragged the lotion across his shaft down to the base and back up to the tip again. “Aaah- Fuck-”

“Not too fast, baby” you said, as more lewd wet noises erupted from your end.

“Fuck, o-okay” Felix slowed down, but somehow it was agonizing, he wanted to feel more, and he wanted to match your rhythm, imagine he was the one inside you right now, rearranging your guts and making you pant and moan. You sounded so heavenly and Felix was convinced you looked even more unreal. His eyes fluttered back to the picture on his screen taking in your perfect tits and picturing them bouncing with each thrust of your wrist, maybe you were even the big toy with two hands, your breasts squished between your arms, shoving it inside with force, making your back arch against the chair.

“Oh god- Felix” you moaned, your breath catching in your throat as you gave yourself a particularly powerful thrust. “Oh f-fuck” you hissed. “I’m getting close.”

“Oh fuck yes, Please can I go faster? I-I wanna finish with you”

“Yesss, stroke it faster baby, really milk your cock for me. I’m…Nggghh- I’m almost there.”

“Fuck, you sound so fucking hot I’m going insane” Felix sighed as he stroked his cock faster, his movements were more shallow, focussing mainly on his tip as his other hand naturally came up to tease his hard sensitive pink nipples. He let out a high pitched moan, that made your cunt grip on the purple cock inside you, you huffed and moaned picturing Felix’s cock weeping for you, twitching for you, simply awaiting your command to finally explode.

“Listen, Lixie, I want you to cum on my tits, cum on my pic”

The cute nickname sounded so sinful on your lips right now. Felix grabbed the screen and pulled it closer to him, not caring about straining the cables of his carefully put together setup. He wasn’t thinking of anything  that wasn’t the way you right now. His mind and thoughts were only for your perfectly wet and tight cunt and how it would feel around him.

He kept on stroking himself, his tip touching your tongue on the picture, smearing precum on  his screen. 

“Ahh fuck, I can’t hold it much longer” He whimpered. “Pleasepleaseplease I wanna cum for you, let me c-cum for you.”

He sounded so perfect for you, so desperate, on the verge of insanity, begging you to let him cum. You pictured his tight balls filled to the brim with delicious piping hot cum he specially cooked up just for you. The idea brought you over the edge.

“Nowww, Felix. Cum. Cum with me”.

Your movements became uneven as your pussy clenched down on the toy, throbbing uncontrollably. The crushing weight of your orgasm swept you off your feet, sending radiating heat from your core to each of your limbs. Every muscle of your body tensed up and spurts of translucent liquid rushed out of you, soaking the toy beneath you and the chair.

You sounded so fucking divine, and even if he couldn’t see Felix heard you were squirting, he heard the liquid rushing out of your to get soaked in by the chair and even crashing on the floor. Those wet sounds coupled with your divine moans and your command for him to cum was more than enough.

He aimed right at your perfect tits, the first squirt of cum was absolutely massive, almost effectively covering your whole chest in one go. Felix felt himself twitch in his hand as he moaned, his voice was so high pitched that his voice cracked but none of you even noticed. He aimed the second spurt at your pretty face, picturing he was cumming on your perfect tongue and you could taste him, eagerly waiting for him with your tongue out, just like in the picture. He couldn't stop cumming, rope after rope of cum came crashing on his screen, covering your picture in thick layers of cum. 

When he was done a satisfying shiver ran down his spine and he sighed at the way his muscles relaxed, he felt at peace finally. There was a silence that was only cut by both of your sighs and pants but the silence wasn’t awkward. Not anymore, you went too far for that.

“That was amazing.” You were the first one to speak, when you had caught your breath. “I came so hard,” you confessed as you looked down at the mess you had made.

“For me too. I don’t think I ever came this much ever.” Felix brushed the sweaty strands of blond hair away for his eyes as he was also looking at his cum gradually thinning out and dripping off the monitor onto his desk. 

“We should do that again” You suggested and Felix sat up in his chair, he ceased the opportunity.

“Maybe next time… you could like… let me see you” He said, testing the waters, trying to take things even further.

“No, next time I’ll let you feel me”.

want more subby felix? try my fic girls like me ♡

SYNOPSIS. felix's heart flutter when he thinks of you but he's not sure if he can be with a girl like you...

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! Can i request for reader x batboys where they’re dating but reader doesn’t know they’re vigilantes. One day they ( as vigilantes) flirt with her then reader tells them that she’s happily taken. Thank you!

I’m only doing dick and Jason cuz my brain doesn’t know what to put for Tim or Damian. And this is probably a boat load of words that make no fucking sense when reading it, so I apologise.

Jason

‘You look lost sweetheart.’ You heard from above you only to see the silhouette of the vigilante red hood.

‘I can assure you I’m not.’ You replied straightforward, wanting nothing more to get home and cuddle up to Jason in your shared bed, after all it had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be chatted up by anyone, you were loyal to Jason no matter what.

‘I’m only trying to help.’ Red Hood tells you as he dropped down from the roof and landed safely in front of you before standing up to his full height.

‘I understand that but when you added sweetheart I’m naturally going to assume you’re attempting to hit on me.’ You said with your arms crossed over your chest. ‘I’m more than happily taken by the sweetheart man I’ve ever known.’ You added as a boast because it was more than the truth, and you could spend the entire week talking about how much better Jason was then any other man in existence.

Jason could feel his heart melt when you said that and was half tempted to rip his helmet off to kiss you senselessly, but he decided to be cheeky and milk this for all it’s worth if it meant hearing you speak about him in high praise. ‘Oh yeah? Does he treat you right?’ He asked as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, reading himself to hear whatever you had to say.

‘He treats me as though I made the stars in the sky and looks at me like I did too,’ you began smiling as you remembered the fondness in Jason’s eyes whenever you did something mundane, ‘I could just be standing there in a plain shirt and a pair of his boxers, looking like absolute shit but he would still tell me I looked stunning.’ You added as you felt the smile stretch further across your lips.

God you loved that teddy bear of a man so much you didn’t know where to put it most of the time.

You noticed that Red Hood didn’t say anything but that was because beneath the helmet Jason was fighting through urge to hold you in arms and never let you go, smother your face in kisses because of how fucking cute you were being without trying, however he knew that he better get back home before you did if he ever wants to do any of that and so he clears his throat and says. ‘It’s good that he does treat you like that, you deserve it more than you know, I bet he’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, go to war even.’

You furrowed your brows as Red Hoods words before shrugging. ‘I mean…yeah I guess, he’d do anything to get me back. I hear him whispering it when he thinks I’m asleep.’ You add as you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante but decided to brush it off when you checked the time on your phone and winced. ‘I should get going and I’m sure you-‘ you went to look over to where you saw the vigilante last, only to be greeted with the sight of nothing. ‘-do too…’ you trailed off before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on your way home.

Unaware of the fact that Jason was still watching you from the rooftops above, knowing damn well that he would indeed go to war for you, his beloved little chipmunk.

Dick

‘What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous you know.’ Nightwing practically purred.

‘I’ve walked through here multiple times before and I can tell you it’s safer than most in Gotham.’ You told him, crossing your arms, unamused.

Nightwing raised his hands in defence. ‘Just trying to look out for a cutie like you is all, no need to bite my head off.’ Dick had a feeling that something might happen on your walk home tonight and decided to keep constant tabs on you the entire night as Nightwing. He could tell you were tired and just outright done with everything but he’d rather you be safe on your journey home than not, regardless of how safe your route home was.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s other people you could be saving instead of flirting with me. I’m taken for your information, and happily so by the most prettiest and albeit goofiest man alive.’ You told him with a smile as your mind drifted to imagining Dick sitting in your shared bed with Hayley in his sleepwear, snoring loudly despite trying to stay up for your return.

‘Pretty? How so?’ Nightwing asked as he eagerly leant in forward to hear you. Dick just wanted an excuse to hear you gush about him without knowing that he was right in front of you.

You sighed at the aspect of having to spend even more time with a vigilante that seemingly didn’t take the hint. ‘He’s got a smile that could light up an entire city for future generations, a laugh so pretty and addicting that you’d be more then willing to make yourself look like an idiot just to hear it again, and he’s got a beautiful set of eyes that you could get lost in no matter what because they’re just so…enriched in colour.’ You finished, the image of Dick’s gorgeous eyes embedded into your mind that left you feeling seen and loved.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at your words, not knowing what to expect when he asked you about how pretty he was, now that he had he could feel a burst of warmth within his chest that now encased his entire body. You were too sweet and kind for your own good and Dick just wanted to keep you safe from everything that Gotham represented, whether it was out of his innate selfishness to keep you for himself, to keep a bright light of his own in a twin as dark and depressing as Gotham he wasn’t sure but all he knew was that he wanted to keep you in his life as long as he possibly could.

‘Sounds like you love him very much.’ He says after a brief period of silence.

‘I’m more than anything.’ You replied without hesitation. Your hand reaching into your coat pocket, thumb caressing the cute charm Dick had bought you to add onto your keys, it helped you calm down in certain situations because it meant that no matter how far apart you may seem you still had a piece of Dick close by. ‘Which is why I really want to get home, so I can see him and our darling dog Hayley.’ You add with a smile when the blue staffy came to mind.

Dick remember where Hayley was before he left to watch over you, fast asleep on your side of the bed, which meant that when you came home you’d have to cuddle up to him as it was proven difficult to wake Hayley up when she had made herself comfortable. However if this meant that Dick got the chance to hold you close to his chest, he’d gladly let Hayley sleep on your side of the bed more often, and he did on multiple occasions.

‘Then I best let you go, don’t wanna keep either of them waiting.’ Nightwing said and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic at the thought of finally getting to go home to your little makeshift family. You didn’t know how much longer you were willing to stand there when you knew Hayley was waiting for you impatiently with a boat load of face licks with your name on it.

‘That’s probably for the best because both of them can tend to get a little whiny when I’m even a second late.’ You laughed to yourself as dick couldn’t help but internally pout at this, he didn’t get whiny when you were late did he? He pushed this thought aside and smiled as he watched you walk away, keeping his eyes on your for a couple seconds longer to make sure you were okay, before realising that he should better beat you home before you find him not there in bed and quickly rushed up to the rooftops and ran like his life depended on it.

He wanted to keep his secret safe for a little while longer before admitting everything to you just yet.

[verstappen-cult]

I don’t know why I went full angst on this but maybe one of them totally blanks on your birthday plans so you’re just sitting at a fancy restaurant with the other one wondering where he is

I can see this where Max forgot and you and Charles finally decide to order food and when you get home he was steaming and didn’t realize what was going on

PART TWO.

You look to the front door just to see another random person walking in. Across the table, Charles tries to hold his anger inside, he tries very hard not to show how affected he also is.

“Maybe something came up.” Your boyfriend tries to smile and reassure you that everything is fine, that Max has a good excuse for not showing up.

He better have a god excuse or Charles is gonna make him sleep on the couch for the next month.

“Should we order? I’m pretty sure Max will want for us to celebrate. It’s your birthday, princess.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak.

It’s not the ideal celebration. Not when one of your boyfriends is not there with you and doesn’t pick up the phone. But Charles does a pretty good job of making you forget about it.

At least until dessert cames and they sing happy birthday to you.

*

“We have plenty of leftovers,” You go to the kitchen as Charles closes the front door. “You want a cup of tea, Char?”

“Don’t be a cunt! I was winning!”

You and Charles look at each other.

“Wha–”

But Charles is already sprinting up the stairs.

You follow him, heart rate through the roof, into Max’s streaming room.

And there he is. Max. Wearing sweatpants and streaming. You look at the screen that says how long he’s been there: four hours. Then, you see his phone on the floor, right next to a couple of Red Bulls.

“What the fuck, Max?!” Charles exclaims, making his boyfriend jump scared.

“Jesus Christ,” He touches his chest, just where his heart is. “Everyone’s laughing, by the way.” Max points to his headphones and then the screen where his friends, in fact, are laughing.

But you couldn’t care less about it.

“Max.” You say softly, grabbing Charles’ hand and caressing his wrist to try and calm him.

“What the actual fuck, mate.”

Charles never calls him mate.

“What?” He looks at Charles, then at you. “You look pretty good. Where did you go?” Max asks, already turning around to keep playing.

But Charles is having none of it. He walks to one side of the room, where everything is connected, and shuts everything off.

“Charles!”

Max is off his chair in a matter of seconds, looking absolutely pissed.

“Oh, you don’t get to be angry.” Charles takes two long strides, but you stand between them before he does something he will regret later. “We waited three hours! It was her birthday, you giant, fucking idiot.”

Charles throws his arms in the air before getting out of the room, leaving a speechless Max behind.

“What?”

You breathe deeply, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t even remember my birthday?”

“Of course I remember your birthday, Schatje.” He picks up his phone, seeing all the missed calls and texts. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with tears.

You can’t see properly anymore. “I think is better if you sleep in the guest room tonight, Max.”

You leave before he has time to say anything, running down the hallway and into your room. It’s only then that you let the tears flow freely down your face.

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that���s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Next

Masterlist

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[moodyvoid]

Shigaraki enters the hideout, walking right up to the bar and sitting on a stool across from Kurogiri.

“Kurogiri, I want a gamer girlfriend.” Shigaraki says, “I need your help.”

Kurogiri calmly sits down the glass he was cleaning, “Have you tried talking to a woman?”

Shigaraki shakes his head, “Not your advice— your help. And no! I have a better idea.”

Shigaraki stands on the roof of a tall building, carefully holding binoculars between his fingers. He peers down at the GameStop across the street. Kurogiri stands beside him.

“I’m choosing the first girl that walks out of that GameStop.” Shigaraki explains.

A mom and her children walk out of the GameStop, the kids all screeching and running around.

“I’m choosing the second girl that walks out of that GameStop.” Shigaraki corrects.

Hours pass and Shigaraki hasn’t moved from his spot where he surveils the GameStop building. Kurogiri had dozed off at some point and is lightly snoring.

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki says, suddenly and sharply. Kurogiri jolts awake. “This is taking longer than expected. I haven’t seen any girls. Just a bunch of virgin plebs and Spinner.”

Kurogiri pauses to address the irony in that statement, then continues, “Perhaps you should consider a different method- like online dating?” Kurogiri asks.

“I’m banned on all those apps.” Shigaraki says.

Kurogiri tilts his head, “Why—“

“Shh!” Shigaraki says. “I think I see someone.”

You walk out of the GameStop holding packs of pokemon cards and a Shadow the Hedgehog plushy. You start to walk away, nearly tripping over the air. You mumble a slew of curses as you adjust your cat ear headband and keep walking.

Shigaraki places a hand over his chest, “Wow, she’s so cringe… She’s perfect.”

Kurogiri nods, “Very well. Go talk to her—“

“Talk to her??” Shigaraki asks. “Uh, no? I’m going to kidnap her, convince her to join the League, act cold, aloof, and disinterested until she discovers that on the inside I’m just a troubled soul with a bleeding heart and she falls in love with me. Duh! God, it’s like you’ve never read fanfiction before.”

Kurogiri sighs, “The fact that All For One doesn’t pay me for this is the worst crime he’s committed.”

[peachesofteal]

Single mother with Simon as neighbour au? Yeaaah in love with them.

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

Simon hasn’t seen you in a few days.

He hasn’t seen you in the hall, or on the roof. Hasn’t seen you on your little balcony, like he did the other day when you were sitting on the little rickety metal chair, sipping a hot cup of something, too big sweater wrapped around your shoulders.

“Good morning.” You called to him, somehow keeping your voice light and soft, warm. He managed a response, serrated and off key, as he stubbed his cigarette out and slipped his mask from his pocket to his face.

He wonders if you’re alone. He never hears anyone else with you except little Emmaline, no man’s voice. No woman’s. He hears you, though. He hears you leave in the mornings, off to somewhere he’s not aware of. Hears you come home in the afternoons, your voice carrying down the hall while you talk to the baby, words muffled and tone light. Hears Emmaline, crying in the mornings and at night. Hears her screaming sometimes, angry about something, the raw pitch of her displeasure filtering through the paper-thin walls, her screeching and wailing probably loud enough to wake the entire floor. He hears you sing to her, just the lightest sounds of a muffled lullaby, coming from the room that’s opposite his bedroom, and he wonders if that’s where your bedroom is too.

He thinks about you being alone, doing everything by yourself, taking care of the baby, taking care of yourself. Who makes sure you’re okay? Who’s watching out for you?

He gets his answer, two days later, six hours before he’s slated to leave for the next op, when he stumbles upon you in the pouring rain, nearly in tears, Emmaline in a cloth wrap pressed to your chest, paper grocery bags in your arms, standing outside the building’s front door, one free hand frantically searching for what he automatically assumes must be your keys. As soon as he spots you, he increases his pace, legs stretching out in front of him and closing the distance between the three of you in record time.

“I know, I know.” He hears you trying to comfort her as he gets closer, your usual sweet voice edged in a frantic, viscous tone that has his fists clenching. “I’m here, baby. It’s okay.”

“Need some help?” He calls, and you turn with wide, nervous eyes. When you see him, when you realize it’s him, you relax, and blurt out hurriedly:

“Oh my god, do you have a key?” He pulls his own from his pocket, sliding it into the lock and then holds the door open, your body pressing against his when you brush by. “They usually don’t lock this door during the daytime.” He knows. He doesn’t tell you, but he had a strongly worded conversation with the building manager two days ago, when he came across the bloke in the lobby. He terrified the man, but he’s not sorry at all, and he feels certain that the front door will remain locked from now on. Leaving the bleedin’ front door unlocked, for anyone to walk in here. Not anymore.

“It should be locked.” He says flatly, and you purse your lips like you’re going to argue, setting down the grocery bags and then fidgeting with the wrap that has Emmaline sitting snugly against your chest.

“Shhh. I know, I know. You don’t like the rain.” He eyes you curiously, watching you unwrap the long pieces of linen slowly. He’s never seen that before, never seen someone carry a baby around like that, Beth always…

Beth. His skin slicks cool with sweat when the thought rips across his mind, old, buried memories gnawing at where he’s put them away, where’s he’s kept them hidden. Beth. Joseph. Tommy. Tommy holding his son, Joseph as a baby, little boy with blonde curls and happy smile, Tommy and his mom-

“Simon?” you say his name softly, tilting your head, and he blinks, snapping his focus back to the present, back to the now, with you, with Emmaline. “You okay?”

“Yeah, alright.” He points to the brown bags. “Need a hand?” He offers, and you reward it with a gracious smile that shines like a bright light that he can’t look away from. Fucking hell.

[star-sim]

supermassive blackhole ☆ jay park pt. 1

☆ non-idol! spiderman! jay x fem!reader

☆ summary: You and Jay Park couldn't stand each other. But after a drunk makeout session at your university's annual soccer mixer, combined with Jay's secret identity as the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two of you are pushed closer to each other than ever, challenging your long-time status as 'enemies.'

☆genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive but no nsfw/smut, angst, fluff, spiderman! au, college! au, so incredibly american HELP, reader has glasses bc it's cute and jay has a lip piercing bc i said so

☆ warning(s) ? many mentions and instances of alcohol (all characters are of age) , this is very suggestive but there is no smut

☆ word count:  13.7k

☆ a/n: my dumbass didn't factor in character block limit when i wrote this shit so i'm gonna split this fic up into two parts... sorry guys :( lmk if you want me to tag you in part 2, also this has a diff style so lmk how we feel abt it 😇

part 2

“Oh, thank you so much, Spider-Man!”

It was a warm spring evening, and Spider-Man had been on his evening city patrol. When he found a little old lady calling for help, who was he to refuse her? Her cat had been stuck in a tree, and she needed someone to help her. Hopping up on the tree, he safely retrieved the ball of fluff.

“Of course, Ma’am,” the superhero chuckled. If only she could see him through his mask, he would be grinning. “Get home safely.”

Watching the little lady’s retreating back, Spider-Man shot a web to the top of a building, and hoisted himself up into the air.

On late-spring nights like this, it was peaceful. He liked the breeze that hit his masked face as he swung from building to building. Around this time, rush hour would be beginning, and all the university students would be getting out. Speaking of…

Peeking over a billboard, Spider-Man peered down to the university campus. His own university campus.

There was no reason in particular for this, but he liked to watch the university around evening time. Most people were beginning their commute home or to the dorms, but campus crime was not rare at all. It could be small offenses like graffiti or theft, but he would prefer those types of things to just not exist at all at a place like the university. And, he just liked to check up on his friends or people he knew, to make sure they were getting home safely.

His eyes narrowed at a familiar figure that made its way across campus. Even from a tall building, he could recognize that head. His jaw clenched, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before shooting another web and slinging away.

By the time it was fully dark out, Spider-Man had finished his night patrol. 

Sitting on the roof of his apartment complex, he didn’t quite want to go in yet. He liked freedom: the physical freedom yielded from spider-like abilities– practically flying through the air– and the social freedom of anonymity. Leaning back on his palms, Spider-Man took a deep breath.

The clouds were beginning to clear up because of the weather, so the moon and stars were extra visible tonight. Clothed fingers creeped up to his neck, carefully pulling up the red mask that covered his face.

He was lucky that no one else casually sat on top of apartment complexes, or else his identity would be revealed.

Jay Park.

The moonlight glimmered on his honey-gold tan skin. The night breeze was cool, kissing his hot cheeks. He ran a hand through his tousled coal-ebony hair, letting his sweaty forehead that had been covered for hours air out.

Truth be told, he was a tad exhausted. It’s not common for the safety of a city to lie on the shoulders of a struggling university student like himself. Throwing his head back and letting dark locks fall over his eyebrows, he let out a huff.

Shit, there’s a party tomorrow.

Everyone liked to boast about the idea of soulmates. 

The idea that fate existed as the binding force that drew lovers of all disparate backgrounds together was prolific, pervading in all parts of history. From severed limbs that shared the same primordial origin, to congenital tattoos containing initials, to even timers that counted down every second until meeting, the concept of soulmates has been longed for, craved for, lusted for- for centuries.

Unfortunately, for you, the notion that everyone had an innate and pre-destined lover was a tad ridiculous.

There was no way that you could believe in soulmates.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

But you did believe in natural enemies.

“I can ask you the same thing, Park.”

Tonight was the soccer team mixer, an end-of-the-year party that the university’s team hosted to celebrate yet another exciting school year. Courtesy of your friends, you and your thick-ass glasses ended up attending. 

Tonight was supposed to be a nice night. It really was. Junior year of university was a stressful one, and you were more than ready to party all your worries away: you figured that you earned it. 

Much to your misfortune, though, there was someone else that decided to attend: the most insufferable, loud, and obnoxious person to ever exist, Jay Park.

There were several reasons to despise him and his funky, tousled hair. He was loud, rowdy, fiery, rambunctious, unruly, uncouth, uncivilized, hot-headed, talked way too much, had no sense of volume, and in your very personal opinion, just sucked. And, apparently, he was a total freak. He would show up to parties and socials, cause a ruckus with his presence, and then randomly disappear. He stood weirdly, and his mannerisms were just strange.

If you could go back and change history, you would have never allowed yourself to even meet such a person. Unfortunately, you two had intersecting friend groups and many mutual friends; there was no avoiding him given your social circles.

It started back in freshman year of highschool. The two of you were sat next to each other on the first day of fourth period English Honors. Your teacher must have seen something that you didn’t, because it was almost impossible for you to even talk to each other. Jay, the pubescent boy he was, would crack a few jokes. You, though, would stare at him vacantly, as if you were expecting him to add on. 

“Can you stop talking?” you asked him once. “Your jokes aren’t funny.”

You had meant it in a helpful way.

“If you want to make it funnier, maybe have a set-up and punchline? Your jokes don’t land.”

Really.

You were genuinely trying to be helpful. 

The only issue was that, like everyone else in the world, Jay didn’t take that well.

From then until the second quarter, you and Jay would only talk to each other if specifically asked to. You would turn around to the girl that sat behind you, and Jay would talk to the guy that sat diagonally in front of him. And when you guys did speak Jay would be unnecessarily dry, and in response, you would get irritated and snap at him.

When you finally moved seats next quarter, you still managed to see each other around. Too much. Your only interactions were limited to a few judgy glances, and occasionally, glares.

During the fourth quarter, Jay made an attempt to mend your relationship when you guys were placed adjacent to each other again. 

Except, now it was your turn to be offended. 

“Hey, I know I was a dick and you were a bitch, but-”

“I was a bitch?”

You’d kick his chair in class, and when the two of you were inevitably forced to talk, it’d be short and curt.

Truly, it was the summer of freshman year that really catapulted your relationship into what it was today. 

When you hung out with your friends over the summer, Jay was always (and truly, always) there. 

Initially, it was awkward.

But when you learned that Jay liked the same band as you– Muse– you thought that you could finally put your terse relationship to an end. 

“You listen to Muse?” You had tapped his shoulder one day at the beach. He was hunched over, listening to his music with earphones jammed into his ears peacefully. He looked bemused, cocking a brow at you.

It must have been the way that you said it. Poor, slightly socially-inept you, who, up until that point, couldn’t control your tone of voice. It was no surprise that Jay thought you were making fun of him.

Brusquely standing up, he snatched his earbuds up to go somewhere [Name]-free, grumbling something under his breath.

From then on, you two rarely got along.

“Something about his face pisses me off.”

“I don’t like how she says things.”

“He makes me so angry for some reason.”

“She’s a total nerdo freak.”

“I need to fight him.”

“I need to fight her.”

For the first two years of high school, there was non-stop bickering. Not necessarily malicious in intent, but it was clear that neither of you liked each other.

The closest thing to a “friendship” that the two of you formed was during the second semester of sophomore year, when your friend started liking his friend, and vice versa.

Both of you were getting tired of seeing your friends so cluelessly in love with each other, so you and Jay joined forces to push them together. Secret in-class texting, after-school discussions, shared knowing looks, and when they finally got together on the last day of school, a perfectly-timed fist-bump. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you and Jay Park made a wonderful team.

After that, you were just on your way to becoming great friends. Obviously, not as close as other friends, but it was undoubted that you had incredible potential to become very good friends.

Until one midsummer night.

“You knew that Taehyun Kang was cheating on Isa– with the girl that he swore up and down she shouldn't worry about– and said nothing?” 

It was a difficult night. Especially when you had to console a weeping friend on one call and yell at Jay Park on the other. 

“He’s my best friend, too,” was all Jay had said.

“And?” You had been incredulous. “Taehyun’s been making googly-eyes at that girl since way before he got with Isa! You knew. You’ve known this entire time and you still-”

“I didn’t know.”

You remembered the anger that began to bubble inside of you. You had spent the past few weeks trying to fix your aggression issues, because it was Jay that told you about your first interaction that got you guys off on the wrong foot. But now, you really couldn’t suppress it.

“Yes you fucking did!” you yelled over the phone. “I know you did. Don’t try to pull this shit on me, Jay.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’ve known this entire time, and you didn’t say anything.”

He had huffed over the phone, grumbling something incoherent. “I didn’t know until a few days before school ended.”

“A few days before school ended?--” You had sunken your teeth into your bottom lip, for the anger that was just beginning to heat up was now rising to a boil– “That was a few days before they got together! You had time to say something– but you didn’t.”

“What did you want me to do?” Jay was now getting angry. “You wanted me to speak up and ruin everything?”

“You could have. You should have. But you didn’t.”

“It’s not my responsibility, [Name]. It’s not your or my responsibility.”

The boiling anger was now seething. “Yes, it fucking was!”

“No, it wasn-”

If Jay could have seen your face over the phone, it would have been twisted with both disbelief and indignation.

“When you and I teamed up to get Taehyun and Isa together,” you asserted through clenched teeth, “there were some things we took responsibility for. And when they got together, we had the responsibility to be good friends. Good fucking people, Park! You–”

You had to take a few moments to breathe. “You had the power– You had the knowledge that your best friend was a cheating bastard that would– You know what? You’re just like him. You could’ve been a normal fucking person and did things the right way, but you lack responsibility and basic intelligence to do so.”

Through the course of that messy break-up, a few more screaming matches between you and Jay came about. Really, it should have been an argument for your friends to have, but you and Jay had had enough of each other. The floodgate that had held your relationship finally broke.

For the rest of your high school years, every interaction would just be blows at each other. It started as subtle, harmless jabs. But over time, those jabs became hostile. Petty actions, like light shoves or stealing pens, evolved into spiteful and calculated attacks, such as purposefully tripping the other or intentionally cutting the other out of a group photo.

Eventually, your friends made up and the break-up rift was resolved, but not you and Jay’s rocky relationship. 

The horror you and Jay must have felt when you found out you were going to the same university.

At the present, pushing up the metal-framed glasses that delicately laid on your nose, you could feel Jay’s dark eyes boring into you. Giving him a once-over, your nose scrunched. Once again, you’re reminded of why you could not stand this guy.

Tonight was a soccer mixer. A college mixer. Looking around, everyone was dressed as if they were college students at a college party. Because that’s what they were.

Girls, including yourself, wore small dresses and short skirts with plunging necklines and fat, wedged heels. They did their hair in all kinds of elaborate styles– you tied your hair into a half-down-half-up style. The guys wore ripped jeans, form-fitting button-ups, leather jackets, and if you were a soccer player, the iconic soccer team jacket- but really anything that was casual and easy to move in.

Jay Park, on the other hand, swore a deep-green hoodie with ripped jeans, like the uncultured villain he was.

Okay, maybe you were being biased.

A few of your friends did come in wearing hoodies and ripped jeans, and you did, in fact, come through the door of this frat house with an oversized hoodie draped over your shoulders. But, the difference was that this was Jay Park. Everything that he did was uncultured and barbaric.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” you remarked, glaring up at him through your lashes. You were on your way to grab a few drinks for your friends in the kitchen when you bumped into none other than Jay Park. “You hang around Jake Sim, I hang around Jake Sim. Use your critical thinking.”

Jake Sim was a mutual friend between you and Jay, who just so happened to be on the university’s soccer team. Great guy, but the only thing that you would complain about was the fact that every time you hung out with him, you would inevitably meet Jay.

Jay scoffed. “Didn’t think a prude like you would actually show up to a party like this.”

“Prude?” Of all times to be calling you prude, it really shouldn’t be now, when you were wearing possibly the shortest and tightest dress with the most risque neckline that you’ve ever worn in your entire life. Those thin spaghetti straps were not doing you any justice. And especially because you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes would linger around your silhouette. “Who’s the one who hasn’t been laid in months? Who’s the one with the worst box-dyed hair on the entire campus? Who’s the one that lacks any social awareness and says the most uncomfortable shit in a voice at 260 fucking decibels? Who randomly disappears? Who moves around like a goddamn insect?”

“That’s not even fucking true!” The man waved his hands in front of himself defensively. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“I’m annoying? You’re the creep that follows me around everywhere.”

“You said it yourself! We have a mutual friend so we always end up-”

“Yeah, but I get the feeling that we end up in the same places because you choose to follow me-”

“I can assure you that no one wants to follow your nerdo freak ass-”

“Oh wow! How creative. You’ve been calling me that since we were fourteen–”

“Because that’s what you are! A nerdo freak that can’t do shit–”

“Why are you even here? You always have that job that you leave to-”

“Hey, hey, hey, party people!” a new voice interjected. 

Jake Sim, your mutual friend, with sleek sunglasses resting on his nose and a beer in his hand, suddenly appeared between your arguing bodies, throwing an arm around each of you.

“Jakey!” you exclaimed.

“‘Sup.” Jake was a suave guy, not a wonder that so many people liked him. “What were the two of you talking about? Looked like you were having fun!”

Jay cringed, his lips curling. Of all words, ‘fun’ would be the furthest from a good descriptor of your interaction. You seemed to think the same.

“Nothing,” you said through clenched teeth and brief glare to the ebony-haired man. 

Jake frowned. “Awww, don’t tell me you guys were fighting again!”

You and Jay locked eyes.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,' his eyes said.

‘Wasn’t going to,’ yours replied.

Jake Sim was a sociable guy. Unfortunately, it made him a little obsessed with making everyone get along. So when he found out that you and Jay deeply disliked each other in junior year of high school, he made it his life’s mission to make you get along.

Didn’t work. It really only made you hate each other more.

“We weren’t,” Jay affirmed, swiping a tongue over his pierced bottom lip. 

When Jake cocked a brow, you added, “Yeah, we weren’t.”

When Jake left you two alone again, there was a thick silence that fell over you (as silent as a rowdy college party could get). You took your drink, and turned to leave.

“Go fuck yourself, by the way,” you spat.

There’s many issues with college parties. A few hundred bodies of sweaty late-teen-early-twenty-somethings all squished together in a single frat house with alcohol and drugs was just a recipe for disaster. Alas, that was simply the college way.

To Jay Park, other than the fact that there was, ahem, usually the presence of people that he didn’t like at college parties, there was the fact alcohol was practically everywhere. No matter how many times he could vow to not drink on one particular night, he always ended up slightly buzzed or full-out drunk.

Like right now.

It was late into the night, but the party hadn’t died down even a little bit. His friends pulled him onto the dance floor. Normally, he would scurry off, probably scared that he might lose control of his spider abilities, but with the booming techno music, blinding LED lights, and alcohol that had happily found its way into his system, Jay’s mind was completely hazy. He could barely feel his own feet below him.

The next thing he knew, there was a body up against him. Definitely smaller than him, but plush and soft, moving fluidly to the music. His mind was completely fuzzy, but Jay could smell a familiar scent. Sweet and almost citrusy, like a summer orange. His arm slithered around the person’s waist, pulling them closer to his own body. His fingers found themselves snaking toward the person’s hip. His larger hands gave it squeeze, earning him a barely-audible squeal. 

If only he knew that the person was you.

Maybe it was the alcohol getting to him, but he felt a shock of fervor and excitement rake through his body.

Bodies moving closely together, he could feel a ghost of your warmth where there was clothes; where clothing was, he could only feel a touch of warmth. 

Jay could feel everything, thanks to his heightened spidey senses and the alcohol. Every motion of your body against his, every breath you took. Which is why even when intoxicated, he could clearly hear the song change from techno to punk rock– Muscle Museum by that one band he’s liked since freshman year of highschool. Muse, was it?

“Fuck, I love this song,” he heard you mutter in your own tipsy state.

Jay was sure you couldn’t hear him, but he slurred back, “Me too.”

His hands explored.

A bare thigh, soft and creamy. An exposed neck, an unclad arm, an ample uncovered chest. Something metal on your face– a piercing? glasses? You must have been wearing jewelry, because he could feel cold metal hanging from your neck and splaying across your chest.

(The amount of practice it took for him to be able to ensure no sticky webs came out of his palms was out of this world. Sober Jay would have been a little more careful, but it was a good thing that he practiced so much.)

When his hand gave your waist another squeeze, something must have clicked in your mind, because you slid your arms around his neck, turning your body to press your chests together. Pedicured fingers ran across his chest through the fabric of his hoodie, ending up at his shoulders. Another jolt of warmth and electricity coursed through his veins.

Jay’s head was way too blurred to really take a look at you in front of him, but again, that familiar scent filled his senses. 

When the lights dimmed and music slowed, you rested your head on his shoulder. He could feel your breath fanning against his neck, lip brushing against his skin. Your lips were half-moist; it must have been gloss that made it sticky, but there was a hint of dryness that he could tell was from being swollen– you were biting your lip so much it was becoming swollen. A warm chill rushed down his spine. 

How drunk was he at this point? He didn’t care, because the next thing he knew, he was pushed up against a wall in a dark hallway.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he muttered under his breath, as you shoved your pedicured hands up his hoodie and played with the belt loops of his ripped jeans.  Throwing his head back against the wall, he heard you giggle, before you ghosted your hand over his lower abdomen, effectively sending waves of warmth down his body. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, flinching. He cursed his spidey senses for making him so sensitive to touch. “Don’t fucking do that- don’t tease me.”

He heard another giggle, before he felt a few nimble fingers grasping his chin gently, pulling his face down for a better reach.

It was a soft, but crazily attractive, voice that whined in his ear, “But you’re so cute like this.”

And then you continued, slipping your hand up and down his bare abdomen, occasionally stopping near his collarbone to tug on the metal necklace that laid so delicately. Meanwhile, you pressed open-mouth kisses on his neck, eliciting the softest sighs of satisfaction.

Truth be told, Jay had no idea that it was you who was all pressed up against him, but for some reason, the fact that he didn’t know turned him on even more. 

The wet kisses, which he was sure left sparkly pink traces of lip gloss, littered all over his skin, trailing from the part where his jaw and ear met, to his collarbones, to his Adam’s apple, and finally, to his chin.

With a squeeze to his bicep, you gently cupped his cheek, pulling him closer. With an experimental hand, you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip, pressing onto the cold metal piercing that adorned his lip.

It was a dark hallway, but it was now that Jay noticed the light that reflected off of your glasses’ lens. When he tried to look for your eyes, he was only met with the sleek shine that reflected off your glasses.

“Let me kiss you,” you purred into his ear as you ran your thumb over his lips. It was now that he could smell the tequila from your breath. “Please?”

Jay, all in his equally-drunken glory, threw his head back again against the wall, making a thud sound. “Fuuuuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Yeah. You’re hot.”

You giggled. You gave his lip piercing one more tap of the finger before entangling your hands in his dark hair, giving it a soft tug. It was a good thing that he was pushed so close against a wall, because Jay swore his knees were going to give out. 

“Thank you, baby.”

You gave his hair another tug, staring straight into his eyes. The half-panicked expression that spread across his face made you crack a small grin of satisfaction, and Jay felt embarrassed under your gaze. Gently holding his face, you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his jawline before you ended up at his chin. You pulled him closer so that your chests were pushed all the way against each other, the majority of your weight on him against the wall.

Jay swiped a tongue over his lip, sucking in a sharp and shallow breath. His chest rose and fell, swallowing so hard in anticipation that his Adam’s apple bobbed. You brushed your nails along his bicep before clasping hands with him; in a swift movement, you pinned his hands flat on the wall next to his head. 

The gap between your faces was closing. You were only a few inches apart at this point. Hot breaths and glassy eyes.

Hands still pinned against the wall, Jay could not tear his eyes away from that glossy sheen on your glasses. He wanted so badly to see your eyes, lock onto them. Usually, the inability to see someone’s eyes would make a kiss less appealing, but for some reason, it only made things more intimate for him. Combined with the darkness and intoxicated state, the anonymity was a turn-on.

Almost as if to tease him, you peppered soft kisses along his chin and around his lips. Freeing his hand from your grip, Jay snuck it around your waist, pressing you all the way up against him. He could feel every curve and divot of your body now; with the softness and plush skin, he wanted to explore it once again with his touch. His big hand traveled down your waist to your hips, caressed your ass, and ended up on the backside of your thigh. He freed his other hand to do the same, resulting in two hands on your thighs.

Jay parted his lips, peering down at you through lidded eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The music had faded in the background, but his heart pounded to the beat of the slow R&B. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

So close. You were so close.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Sliding his hands up your back to your shoulders, Jay gave it a squeeze. In a swift movement, he flipped your positions around, pushing you gently against the wall and placing a flat palm above you head.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

You giggled, grappling for his hair once again. 

Again, he could smell that sweet, citrusy scent.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Jay leaned in. 

There was a sort of tenderness—intimacy— that he suddenly craved for. Closing that gap, having skin on skin, lip to lip, he needed it.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

If he just got a little closer… a few more centimeters, and your lips would-

Beep beep!

What-

Beep beep!

Bewildered, Jay flinched back.

It was his watch, which lit up the dark hallway.

You held his bicep, trying to pull him back in. He resisted.

Beep beep! Time to go! his watch went on.

“Baby,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

Jay bit his tongue. As sensible as an intoxicated person can be, his eyes narrowed at his glowing wristwatch. 

Fuck.

“I-I have to go.” Jay pushed off the wall, turning toward the hallway entrance. He was feeling dizzy.

“What? But-”

He eyed his watch, which was now glowing a red color.

“Shit, shit-” He turned over his shoulder, slurring out, “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t see your face but he could feel disappointed and confused eyes boring into his back.

On his way out of the frat house, Jay took a bottle of water and chugged it, sobering up (though still feeling shitfaced and nasty). He rushed out of the house, and the moment he stepped out onto the pavement, his phone rang.

“What happened this time, Jungwon?” he grumbled into his phone, still catching his breath. His hand came up to touch his neck. Even out here and sobered up, he could still feel the sticky kisses pressed against his skin, setting his cheeks aflame against the cold night air.

On the other side of the phone, a childish voice spoke. “Doctor Discotheque!”

“What?”

He heard a huff. “Doctor Discotheque! Remember? That villain guy! He’s here!”

Jay scoffed. “Where’s ‘here’?”

“At home, you dummy!”

Sometimes, Jay wondered why he employed his eight-year-old kid brother, Jungwon, or Wonnie, to help him with his Spider-Man endeavors. Given the fact that the kid was literally eight years old, it might have been a little pathetic to enlist the help of someone who couldn’t even do basic math. But honestly, Wonnie was the best he had– the kid was terribly excited to find out that his big brother was a superhero and he promised not to tell anyone only if Jay 1) told him everything that happened (correction: everything cool that happened, the kid didn’t want to hear about helping old people use the subway) and 2) let him be intel. There wasn’t much a grade-schooler could do to be a valuable informant (what was Jay going to let him do, run around the street at night?), but he sure did have a lot of time on his hands.

“Okay, okay,” Jay rubbed the scar on his nose. “Where at home? Like, in the complex? Outside?”

“Two floors below us.”

“What.”

Just as Jay was outside the general vicinity of mixer-goers, he heard a slew of heavy footsteps and then suddenly felt two arms wrap around his torso.

“What the-”

A very, very, very familiar voice began sobbing into his back. “Why’d you leeeavvvvveee?”

You.

You tightened your hold on him, burying your face in his hoodie-clad back. “Whyyyyyyyyyy?” you drawled.

“The fuck-?” Jay, cringing into his skin, tried to pull away. However, his nose picked up a scent that he was more than mortified to recognize. It was sweet and citrusy. And when his eyes caught the outline of your metal-framed glasses and the illumination that was strewn across the lens, all hell broke loose.

“Jay?” Wonnie’s voice called over the line. “Jay! Spider-Man! Is everything okay?”

“Hold on-” Jay replied. “Fuck, just give me a second.”

You, [Name] [Last Name], possibly one of the most insufferable people ever, was the one that he was all over just five minutes ago. You were the one that had him pressed up against the wall. You were the one that was touching and kissing him all over. You were the one that sent chills down his spine. You were the one that he was minutes away from taking into a spare bedroom and-

He sucked in a sharp breath. Not the time to think about that.

Now that he had soaked in the fresh air outside the frat house, the smell of alcohol was strong on your person. It consoled him that everything happened because both of you were drunk, at least.

“[N-Name],” he muttered. “[Name], let go.”

You were fuckfaced drunk, holding and clinging onto him like your life depended on it and wailing. Jay never thought that he’d find a day where you would be like this to him.

“I want youuuuu,” you slurred. “Come baaaaack insiiiideeee.”

“Jesus Christ, you college kids,” Wonnie clicked his tongue on the other side of the line. “Get a room.”

“Shut it,” Jay spat. Turning his attention to you sobbing in his arms, he figured that you had no idea that the person you were all over was him. If you did, you would be kicking and screaming at him. 

As much as he needed to go, he didn’t feel great about leaving a drunk woman (no matter how much he disliked you) alone at night at the side of a road.

“[Name], where are your friends?”

You sniffled. “I don’t knowww.”

Jay huffed. He couldn’t find your phone, and he wasn’t going to hang up on his brother– who he honestly really needed to get to, like, right now.

He had a few options: fail at his job as Spider-Man by leaving a drunk woman unattended, go inside and physically look for your friends which will delay him going to Wonnie, or take you home himself. He did not have a lot of time.

Which is why he was currently carrying you, his worst enemy, bridal style as he shoots webs across the sky, all the while being on call with his kid brother.

“When are you getting home again?” Wonnie asked.

“Give me, like-” Jay looked around the city- “Five minutes.”

A lucky feat of being Spider-Man was that he had incredible speed and agility. 

It wasn’t going to take much longer to get to your apartment, which he now realized was very close to his own apartment complex.

Actually, he was heading straight towards his apartment complex. 

Weird. 

Maybe yours is the one behind it? 

Nope, there’s just an old construction site behind it.

Wait, so then where’s your apartment…?

Oh my god, you lived in the same apartment complex as him.

Speaking of, you were asleep in his arms. 

“Won, what is Doctor Discotheque doing?”

“Having tea with our downstairs neighbors.”

“What?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Wonnie yelled over the phone. “He’s a supervillain! What do you think he’s doing? Wreaking havoc, duh!”

Jay took a deep breath so as to not yell back at this kid. “Yeah, I know. What in particular is he doing?”

“He’s being rude to the apartment staff.” When he was met with a judgmental silence, Wonnie groaned. “I’m serious. I think he’s waiting for you. He’s just being super mean to people right now.”

Damnit.

Jay took a look at the unconscious you in his arms. “Wonnie, I’m going to drop someone by the balcony. Take her in, will ya?”

Before Wonnie could blow up on him for bringing a ‘her’ home, Jay brusquely said, “I’m going down to kick Doctor Discotheque’s ass.”

Of all things in the world, you did not expect to wake up in Jay Park’s bed. 

The next morning, you woke up with probably the worst headache you’ve ever had. You were never one to drink, but maybe the university stress was really getting to you. Groaning, you sunk your face into the freshly-washed white sheets. All seemed normal, until you realized a few things:

First, who took you home last night? You had no memory of anything that happened at the mixer that night. If you thought about it hard, you could probably remember getting ready for it, meeting some, ahem, unpleasant people, talking to a few friends… and really nothing more. In fact, the bedroom you were in right now didn’t look like it belonged to any of your friends. 

Second, you were still in your clothes from last night. And makeup. And hair.

How did you get home last night? 

This was probably the worst hangover you’ve had in a while. Nevertheless, when you realized that there was talking outside the room, you got out of bed to investigate. 

Which led you to possibly the worst thing to ever witness.

Jay Park, with wet hair, shirtless on the couch.

The shrill scream you let out was enough to get a complaint from the neighbors.

“Oh my fuck, calm down,” Jay, in all his bitch-faced glory, rolled his eyes.

“You- You want me to calm down?” You were scandalized. Horrified. “You’re literally- You’re-”

“This is my house,” his eyes bored into you. “I can do whatever I want.”

“This- This is your house?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

There was another ear-splitting scream before Jay convinced you to sit down so he could explain.

“You don’t need to sit so far away from me,” Jay dead-panned when you sat at the very edge of the couch.

“I don’t want to be near you,” you murmured.

“That's rich coming from someone that was all over me yesterday.”

The utmost and utter horror painted across your face was nearly laughable. 

You?

All over Jay?

Was that why you woke up in his home…? In his bed?

“Oh my god,” you clasped a hand over your mouth. “Did we…”

“No.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Then how am I here then?”

Jay sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

If you weren't completely stunned into silence from the fact that you woke up in Jay Park’s bed, then you were now. Jay recounted a rather detailed account of what happened the night before– the two of you got drunk, and ended up more than touchy with each other. Your face heated up, with both embarrassment and… anger? 

Frowning, you asked, “Then why’d you bring me home?”

“You were crying and begging me to come back inside with you, but I had to go.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms.

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you out there drunk, you know,” Jay shrugged. “I was going to bring you to your apartment, but I had to fight– I mean– Spider-Man had to fight some.. Um, villain downstairs.”

You nodded slowly, but skeptically. Sensing your cynicism, Jay added quickly, “You can check the news. The fight was on the seventh floor.”

Your ears perked up. “Seventh floor?”

“Yeah-”

“That’s where I live.”

Jay’s eyes widened a fraction. “Shit.”

A great thing about being Spider-Man was that he was technically a government worker, a public service provider. The government paid for all the casualties caused by his work, luckily. Gone were the days that he’d be considered a masked menace.

As great as this was, it led to Jay being more or less reckless. Not that he was throwing shit around and purposefully breaking property when protecting citizens, but he had the freedom to do whatever was necessary. If he had to break down walls to save people, then so be it.

Speaking up, Spider-Man went a little.. Err… crazy last night. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, or the fact that Doctor Discotheque the supervillain was literally insane. Safe to say, when fighting in the hallway of the seventh floor, Jay got a little aggressive and broke a few more things than usual.

If you found out that he-- Jay-- was Spiderman, a.k.a. the one that probably damaged your home, he’d be dead. Luckily, you wouldn't find out. Unluckily, your apartment was among those that were damaged last night.

“Can you stop that?” Jay said.

There were many reasons that Jay Park deeply disdained you. You were nit-picky, snobby, arrogant, pretentious, overly-critical, fussy, and extremely judgmental. Everyone thought you were some sort of genius, and he could tell that you liked the fact that they did. 

“I’m fuckin’ stressed,” you spat as you paced around the floor. “I don’t think I can really ‘stop.’”

Not that he was a sick person, but the expression of genuine distress spread all over your face was almost satisfying. But then Jay realized the situation you were in and he knew it was his fault, so he felt just a little bad. 

You lost your phone last night, and your apartment was more than a little damaged, the entire seventh floor being tarped and taped off. Sitting on the couch, you chewed on your bottom lip. It wasn’t even noon yet. Given your group of friends and the events last night, it wasn’t likely that any of them were awake at this time. And you didn’t have your phone- it wasn’t like you could just easily phone someone that wasn’t there last night.

You had a massive headache, feeling lightheaded with a throbbing sensation up there. You felt gross, with smudged makeup and the same tiny dress from last night. You could definitely walk to a friend’s place and wait there, but the heels you wore last night were the tallest, most painful, party-purposed stilettos. You were absolutely not walking around the city in those shoes.

The worst part about it all was that you were stuck in the apartment of none other than Jay Park. 

Could you appreciate the fact that he looked out for you by taking you home? Yeah, sure.

But could you stand him? Absolutely not.

“Why are you walking around like that?” He was getting persnickety, as payback for all the times that you’d been nit-picky towards him. “You’re going to ruin my floorboards.”

You sent him a glare. Some empathy would be nice, you thought, rolling your eyes.

There really was only one person that was accessible to you if you wanted to get out of here, and it was Jay himself. You never really thought that there would be a day where you would need to ask for his help, but here you were, practically stranded. Speaking of, he was ignoring you, occasionally looking up from his phone to give you a weird look.

If you wanted to go home, you would need to swallow your pride and just ask for help.

You prided yourself in your ability to be blunt. You were a natural leader, ambitious and aggressive. You never had an issue with announcing your wants or needs. But now faced with the piercing silence of Jay Park, you simply could not open your mouth to speak. It wasn’t like you couldn't ask him, but that you wouldn't. Curling your lips, you let the glum, nearly shameful, feeling fall over yourself.

Eyes tracing the man’s outline carefully, you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

‘[Name], you can do this,’ you recited to yourself. ‘You can do this. Just talk to him, just talk to-’

You pressed your lips together, before taking a deep breath and opening your mouth to speak. As you attempted to say his name, no sound came out. When he glanced up at you suspiciously,you quickly averted your gaze and closed your mouth.

When he looked away, your eyes flickered back to him, simply drilling into him. You licked your lips. For the second time, you opened your mouth to say his name, bracing yourself for the sound of your voice, but Jay spoke before you did.

“What are you looking at?” 

You stood up straight like a board, pushing up your glasses clumsily.

“I- Well-”you cursed yourself for stammering. You never stammered like this. “I…”

He looked at you expectantly.

Your ego, that fat chunk of an ego, was crumbling.

“Park,” you brusquely said. 

He leered at you. “What?”

You stared at him awkwardly, lips pressed into a line as thin as paper. “I… I.. um.”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “On with it.”

You huffed loudly. 

“Can I please use your phone?”

The second last thing that you expected to happen ever was to be sitting on Jay Park’s bed with wet hair wearing his hoodie and sweatpants. And that other than asking him for help.

Never have you felt so ashamed of yourself, sitting on the soft bed with your knees up to your chest. 

The judgy glance that Jay gave you was absolutely soul-crushing, and after a humiliating stutter-filled explanation, he simply said, “Go take a shower.”

Were you initially mortified? Absolutely. But after soaking in the warm water for a few minutes, you begrudgingly thanked him. But only in your head.

Staring at a spot on the floor, you pressed your face into your knee, reflecting upon everything that had happened. As you were lost in thought, what startled you was a loud beeping sound, the slamming of a window, and yelling. You jumped to your feet in reaction, but before you could creep out of the bedroom, someone else came in.

Instead of a tall, well-built man with black hair, it was a young boy no older than ten holding a massive walkie talkie.

“Who- Who are you?”

The boy blinked owlishly, before cracking a grin. “Oh, it’s you!”

You recoiled. “Wh-What?”

“You’re the lady from last night!” he laughed, revealing sharp canine teeth. When you only looked more bewildered, he continued, “The lady that Jjongsaeng brought home last night!”

Jjongsaeng? “You mean Park— er, Jay?”

The boy frowned. “He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend,” he murmured to himself quietly, before turning over to you. “Mhm!”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” You were a little concerned. Who was this child and why was he in Jay Park’s apartment?

“Oh!” The boy laughed again, throwing his head back. He came closer to you, extending a small hand towards you. “Jungwon! But just call me Wonnie!”

Okay, but your question wasn’t answered exactly. “Are you…” you took a better look at Wonnie. He was just so small! Though, he looked an awful lot like Jay Park… – “Are you his son… or…?”

The boy put an offended hand over his chest, scowling deeply. 

“Son?” he gawked. “I’m his brother!!”

Your lips formed an ‘o.’

“And what’s your name?” Wonnie looked at you curiously.

“[Name] [Last Name]– Just– Just call me [Name].”

A silence fell over you two.

“Do you- Do you know where your brother is?” When Wonnie gave you a suspicious look, you quickly added, “I need to use his phone.”

He gave you another long stare, before saying simply, “He’s not here.”

How could he not be here? Jay was just here, like, twenty minutes ago? “What do you mean?” you narrowed your eyes.

“He-” Wonnie’s large eyes hovered over to the window quickly, before fluttering back to you. “He went to work.”

“Doesn’t he have a night internship?”

Wonnie grumbled something under his breath, almost looking stressed, gripping the walkie talkie. “Yyyyyessss,” he nodded slowly. “But he has a day job too…. As an.. Um, photographer?”

You nodded slowly. “Right. When do you expect he’ll be back?”

Wonnie glanced at the window again. “In, like, fifteen minutes-”

Crash!

You two rushed over to the living room window, peering across to the construction site behind the apartment complex. There, there were news reporters, blaring ambulances and police cars, and rubble and dust everywhere. Not to mention the elephant in the room: Spider-Man and two criminals.

“Oh my god, is that Spider-Man?”

Wonnie didn’t seem as impressed as you, opting to toy with his walkie talkie. “Yeah, he’s here all the time. Cool guy.”

You frowned. You lived only a few floors down and you wouldn’t say that Spider-Man was ‘here all the time.’ 

“Really? This is my first time seeing him.”

Fingering the window handle, you pushed it open.

You’d heard all the stories. Your friends talk about seeing the red-and-blue-clad hero with his iconic spider logo. He was some neighborhood hero. According to a few of your friends, he’d help them fight off muggers and creeps, swinging in with his sticky white webs just moments before all hell broke loose. Apparently, he was a super suave guy, and according to a few, really hot. 

“As hot as a masked hero can be,” you would laugh with your friends. Now watching from a few stories up, you could definitely see the appeal. The sun was out, casting a harsh shadow on Spider-Man’s defined back muscles. The skin-tight suit hugged his strong arms and sturdy build. 

There was something so fascinating about Spider-Man. He was strong, friendly, dutiful, sure. But what made him so alluring was that you wanted to study him– dissect him. It was only in your nature to want to know every single inner-workings of a figure like him.

You then felt a poke at your side. It was Wonnie.

“What, are you in love with him or something?”

You tore your eyes from Spider-Man’s figure. “What? No!”

Wonnie raised his brows. “Hmmm… Okay.”

You turned back over to the window, except when you scanned for Spider-Man, he had disappeared completely.

“Hey, where did he-”

The front door of the Park apartment flew right open, revealing a disheveled Jay Park. 

“Y-You’re back already?” Wasn’t he just at a job….?

Jay waved his hand in front of him, taking off his shoes. “Yeah. Why? Were you gonna do something?”

Your nose scrunched. “No! I just thought you were at a job.”

Jay scoffed. “Who told you that-” He cut himself off when he noticed the awkward expression painted across Wonnie’s face. 

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” he muttered.

Jay Park would have never guessed that you would be sleeping in his bed. For the second night. In a row. None of your friends had enough space for you to crash, and if not, they just didn’t pick up the phone. 

“You need better friends,” Jay had told you in a matter-of-fact way, earning a sharp glare. 

And it wasn’t an easy decision to let you stay with him either.

The apartment was a 2-bedroom one. One for himself, one for his kid brother. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make Wonnie leave his room or you and Wonnie share a room, and he most definitely was not sharing a bed with you. He’d make you sleep on the couch, but the Spider-Man in him told him not to. So very grudgingly, Jay let you take his room.

He was only allowing this because it was him that practically destroyed your apartment. Even if he didn’t like you, he did take responsibility for what happened.

Maybe that one argument you had the summer of sophomore year got to him. 

And plus, he could not stand you. All the little jabs you made at him, even down to your facial expressions, had him riled up. But, for the sake of the child in the room, Jay made no big attempt to fight back.

Curled up on the couch, Jay couldn’t shake off the glum feeling that settled on his chest.

Jay Park never realized how many qualms he would have with another person living in his house. 

He was okay with Wonnie, because Wonnie knew his identity as Spider-Man. And plus, Wonnie was his brother– that little squirt was tolerable. When it’s just the two of them, Jay could do basically anything he wanted. Wonnie was more than enthusiastic when he would use his webs to pull objects toward him or hang on the ceiling just because he could, and it was a rather common occurrence for you two to make a ruckus whenever there was crime in town. Jay could go do Spider-Man things whenever he needed to, and Wonnie would be okay with it.

But now with you living with him temporarily, he had to be a lot more careful.

Especially with your nitpicking everything he does.

“Why do you cut your bread like that?”

“Ew, your butter is so hard.”

“Can you stop chewing so loud?’

“Why does your face look like that?-- Oh, hi Wonnie!”

“Hi, [Name]!”

It seemed like Wonnie and you got along better. 

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked from the kitchen table.

Jay, who was putting on his coat and shoes at the door, made a face. Swinging his backpack over his shoulders, he took Wonnie’s hand. “What do you think we’re doing?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you answered matter-of-factly. “Class doesn’t start until nine though!”

Jay pointed to Wonnie. “Gotta take him to school.”

That was only partially the truth. He did indeed take Wonnie to elementary school, but like every morning, he went on a morning patrol. The amount of small robberies and little school children walking into traffic was a bit staggering, but not to worry, Spider-Man was on his way.

Like right now.

As Jay swung from building to building, he carefully scanned the alleyways and streets to possibly catch any crime. When he stopped to rest atop a mix-use flower shop, crouching in his iconic pose, he spotted two children and a man.

Jay’s enhanced senses allowed him to hear the conversation-

“Let go!” one of the children pleaded, pulling away from the man. The other child, clearly the younger one, confusedly held onto the other.

“Kids, kids!” the man chuckled, continuing his tightened grip. “Just come with me. I’m your parents’ friend!”

The older of the two scrunched her nose, continuing to resist the man.

Jay observed from above. Clearly, these children had no idea who this man was. By the looks of it, there wasn’t anyone else around. Even if the kids screamed, no one would come to the rescue quick enough. This weird kidnapper guy could definitely take these kids without a doubt.

Cue the screaming and crying.

Panicked, the man tightened his grip on the kids, jerking them along as he began to walk towards the alleyway.

Fuckin’ creep, Jay thought before shooting a white web at the lampost a few meters down the pavement, swinging down. Extending a leg, he held onto the web as he suspended across the air. As he closed in on the man, he heard the two children let out shrill gasps just as Jay's foot made impact with the man’s cheek.

The brief moment of surprise made the man loosen his grip on the two children, allowing for them to scurry back. Now on the ground, Jay stood over his fallen figure.

Disgusting, he thought as he peered down at the man. Just thinking about what he would have done to the children made him angry. The man groaned in pain. Jay leaned down to the man, bringing a masked, yet somehow patronizing, face to him.

“Hey, buddy!” His words were ordinary, but very clearly filled with contempt. “Whatcha doin’ over there with those kids?”

When the man didn’t answer, Jay stamped a foot right between the man’s legs, impossibly close to his crotch. “C’mon, man. Wontcha explain?”

The panic in the man’s eyes was satisfying, as he began to draw out a pocket knife. 

“S-Spider-Man?!”

Under his mask, Jay cracked a smirk. “Honored to be at your service.”

The man ogled at Spider-Man’s built figure– he stood no chance against the hero. Regardless, he stumbled to his feet, pointing the blade at Jay. “Stay back!”

Jay laughed.

“Oh no! A knife! Anything but the knife!” Jay feigned fear, cowering into himself. “I’m so scared! Please! My biggest weakness is a tiny little knife!”

The man faltered, staring hesitantly at the hero. Jay took this moment to shoot one more web at the street light, giving him momentum to jump in and kick this guy in the face again.

“Oh, man,” Jay chuckled. “That knife really got me.”

“I-I’m sorry!” The man gawked at the hero’s figure standing over him, spluttering as he struggled to his feet and finally scuttling away.

Jay watched his running back carefully.

“Thank you so much, Spider-Man!” he heard the children cheering behind him. Turning over his shoulder, Jay gave them a salute, before shooting a web and swinging away.

When classes for the day ended, Jay Park wanted a head-start on patrolling. The sun was only beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the city. He liked this time of day the most. There was always a faint citrusy smell in the air, and he wished he could take off his mask to feel the wind rake through his hair. 

He checked all the important places– the bank, the university, the bus station, and especially the central business district. The alleyways were crazy notorious for being crime-ridden, so he was extra attentive with the patrol. 

Speaking of, there seemed to be a bit of a conundrum right now. From the top of a high-rise building, Jay’s eyes zeroed in on the figures a few hundred feet below him. It was no uncommon occurrence for there to be some sort of assault (with Spider-Man here, attempted assault) in a dark alleyway. Jay always followed a basic procedure:

Step one: identify what’s happening.

From above, he could see that– oh shit– a woman was going to be mugged. 

Little did he know, much to both of your luck, that woman was you.

Step two: identify the threat.

Two guys, both disheveled, one with a pocket-knife. Even though he couldn’t see your face, just by the looks of it, you were clearly disadvantaged– these two guys were massive compared to you.

“We see ya wallet, girl,” one of the men said. For two people who were very much advantaged, they were rather shy with the knife, holding it low and with little confidence. “Hand ovah the money.”

When you didn’t respond, they got a little more vindictive, slamming the rusted brick wall, demanding for money.

Step three: swoop in and-

Jay was bewildered by the raucous clanking of metal trash can tops against the dirty pavement. Gaping down, he could see one of the men crashed up against the trash cans, and the other one taken aback. 

Did you just…?

Jay was taken by surprise once again when he heard grunting and groaning in pain. You were kicking these men when they were down. With heeled shoes. And it was now that he finally noticed your physicality: [H/C] hair. Glasses. Big attitude. Oh my god, how did he not realize that it was you?

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you landed a kick at the crotch. Jay hissed in pain just at the sight of that. “Huh? You think you own this fuckin’ place?” Another kick. “Fuckin’ scum.”

Jay was contemplating whether or not he should go down there and give you– [Name]-fucking-[Last Name]– a hand. He was going to decide against it, when his spidey senses picked up the very crisp sound of a blade scraping across the pavement. While you were busy cussing out one of the assailants, you didn’t notice the way one of the men unsheathed the pocket-knife. 

Jay could see it— In a matter of seconds, the guy’d bare the blade and shank your right in the abdomen. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, tongue swiping right over his metal lip piercing.

“Hey, fuckface!” In one fell swoop, Jay landed a powerful punch to the blade-bearing assailant’s cheek, sending him flying down the alleyway. you let out a shriek. “Spider-Man?!”

It was weird to see you startled like this. “Hey, Gorgeous.”

In his defense, there was not a bone in his body that thought that you were gorgeous. It was simply a habit he took on when he assumed the role of Spider-Man. He said that to everyone.

The second assailant, the one that you had basically beat up with words, was still keeled against the trash cans, eyes widened and fearful of what the friendly neighborhood hero could do.

Jay leaned down to be at eye-level with the man. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

The man spluttered, and Jay sneered. The kick that the hero gave to the man square in the chest subsequently propelled him down the alleyway, joining his friend at the back. 

“Maybe don’t try to mug someone in broad daylight, bud.”

When Jay heard a few clanking sounds and groans of pain, he turned to you.

You were looking at him with large, shiny eyes, utterly consumed in admiration. Jay cringed at the silence that fell over the two of you. It wasn’t normal for there to be such a calm silence between him and you. If there wasn’t arguing, then there’d be an uncomfortable and tense atmosphere.

“I- Spider-Man…” you said, looking up at him through your glasses. The way that your eyes were practically glued to his masked face had Jay scrunching his nose. After a long silence of you just staring at him, you quickly avert your gaze, finding interest in your shoes instead. God, why were you getting so shy? Seeing the abashed expression on your face was like seeing a police officer get a parking ticket– so fucking out-of-character and just pure unnatural.

Jay wanted badly to make a jab at you, to say, “Hey, Jay Park just saved your sorry ass.” 

But he didn’t. 

Because that’s not what friendly neighborhood Spider-Mans do.

You bit your lip before glancing up at him. It was almost like you could feel his eyes questioning you from behind his mask, and once again, avert your gaze, pushing up your metal frames. 

It was now that Jay truly realized what was going on– Did you have a crush on Spider-Man?

You were acting really shy, and you were looking at him like he was some kind of god. 

The thought made him want to shrink into his own skin, but for some reason, it also made him grin. Grin a smug grin. Because now he had something to dangle over your head.

He didn’t have any sinister intentions other than the fact that he wanted an opportunity to be petty with you.

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” you finally blurted, that bashful look still casted on your face. 

Jesus Christ, the way you were acting soft-spoken and coy was so weird. 

He could do one of two things to fuck with you.

He could be extremely cold and distant, making you feel embarrassed. It would definitely be satisfying to see you panicked and flustered. But then again, Spider-Man’s job was to keep the city safe, not be mean to civilians. Even if said civilian was someone he couldn’t stand.

The second he could do was fluster you in a different kind of way: enthrall you with charm to mess with you. It was certainly a more ethical way to fuck with you, but Jay wasn’t sure if he’d be up for practically flirting with the person he hated more than anything else.

You shyly looked at him, expecting a response.

On second thought, he might be up for it.

He didn’t want to break you. Just fuck with that strong head of yours a little bit.

“Anything for you,” Jay took a step closer to you, just close enough that you would be taken aback, “Beautiful.”

Okay, maybe he should never do that again. Jay was not a lady-charmer. He had no game. There was a reason that he didn’t have a girlfriend, and it was because he could not flirt for shit. His skin was crawling with cringe– what he would do to have the ground open up and eat him whole because that shit was the worst thing he’s probably ever done.

His internal squirming was cut short when he saw the way your eyes widened a fraction, before letting a slight abashed curve settle on your lips. 

“Oh- I-” you lowered your head, your glasses laying on the very tip of your nose. 

“Thanks,” you stammered.

.

.

.

Now it was awkward.

What was he supposed to do now? Kiss you? No! What the fuck?

“I’m gonna go now,” Jay muttered. Extending his arm and aiming it at the top of the adjacent building, he prepared to shoot a web. However, he was stopped when you gently grabbed onto his bicep.

“Wait.” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet, meek almost. “I-I don’t feel safe going home now.”

Jay blinked.

Jay Park never seemed to expect anything. 

For the second time ever, in the same week, he was carrying you across the sky to his own home.

This time, though, you were wide awake instead of black-out drunk.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you clung to him as he held onto your body tightly in the bridal-style. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be carrying a damsel in distress like this, but Jay never thought that he would be carrying you of all people. 

With you clinging so close to him, Jay could smell that sweet, citrusy scent again. He grimaced when he was once again reminded of the events that had transpired a few nights ago. Whenever he thought about it, Jay could almost feel his skin crawl, remembering the wet and sticky kisses placed on his skin.

Jay tried to ignore the way you stared at him so incredulously, wide and glinted as if he was some sort of idol.

As Jay approached the edge of the high-rise office building, he noticed you bracing yourself for the jump You’d been shutting your eyes tightly and letting out a little peep every time he’d jump across buildings.

Maybe he should try fucking with you right now.

Launching off his feet, Jay had propelled the two of you into the wide valley between office buildings. Usually, he’d shoot a web within a few milliseconds of just being the air. However, with you in his arms…

“S-Spider-Man…!” you squeezed his bicep. You were falling…! 

Jay was taking his sweet time with shooting another web, waiting for them to be just a few hundred meters from the bustling and traffic-filled road, giving you the illusion that you were about to topple to your death. 

“Spider-Man, we’re gonna–!”

When you were practically dangling over the cars, Jay shot a web up to the next building, hoisting you two up and away.

“What, you don’t trust me, Beautiful?” Jay got some sick satisfaction from shaking up the usually-controlled you. If he was Jay, he probably would have made a jab, say something like “I told you so,” but since he was Spider-Man he stuck to the flashy and charming persona that the hero built himself.

“I… I trust you, Spider-Man, just– Eep!” 

Jay threw his head back, laughing. It was funny when you got scared.

“Stop making fun of me, Spider-Man!” you lightly slapped his chest. “I’m just…– Eep!--”you squeezed his bicep again– “Scared of heights.”

Jay gave your waist a squeeze. “I got you, Angel.”

It was weird to pull up to his own apartment and pretend that it wasn’t his.

“This your place?”

Jay was curious as to what you would say. He dropped you off on the balcony, before going into his iconic crouching pose on the thin metal railing.

You shook your head. “It’s my… friend’s. I’m staying with him because….”

You trailed off, before your eyes fluttered over to Jay’s masked face. “Hey, didn’t you fight some villain the other day?”

Oh.

Right.

The reason that you were even staying with him was because… Well, him.

Jay nodded slowly.

“Oh- Well, um,” you wrung your fingers. “My apartment, it got… Yeah.”

It was like you could sense the uneasiness behind the mask. 

For the heinous amount of crime-fighting that Jay did, he did feel a little bad for the amount of infrastructure that got ruined. It seemed like every other week there were glass shards strewn all across the streets. He couldn’t imagine the type of work that would go into rebuilding homes and infrastructure after so much damage.

That, he will take responsibility for.

He lowered his head. “Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry about that.”

A civilian is a civilian.

“No, no, no!” you said rather brusquely, almost in a hostile way, waving your hands in front of yourself. 

Ah, there it was. The [Name] that he knew.

When you realized your tone of voice, you quickly back-tracked, clearing your throat and pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I mean- It’s okay, Spider-Man,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You did what you had to do.”

If you knew his identity ,you wouldn't say that. You would probably file a lawsuit against him.

But he appreciated the sentiment.

“What’s your name, Pretty?” He needed you to formally introduce yourself so he could stop using those cheesy nicknames.

You smiled bashfully again. “[Name].”

“Then I’ll see you later,” Jay jumped to his feet, balancing on the metal railing. He looked over his shoulder, raising a hand up, “[Name].”

With that he began swinging away.

You blinked slowly, eyes trailing his slowly disappearing figure.

When he was out of your sight, your lips immediately broke out into a wide grin. Taking off your glasses, you used a hand to cover your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up and pull upward. 

Oh, you understood it now. Why everyone said Spider-Man was so charming.

Using both hands to cover your warm face, you let a few giggles out into your palms. 

God, Spider-Man was attractive.

Your momentary fluster was cut short when the screen door of the balcony slammed open.

“Are you gonna come in or….?”

You turned to look over your shoulder.

Jay Park. Always had to ruin everything, didn’t he?

You huffed, removing your hands from your face. “Yeah… Just, give me a second.”

“Okay.”

When you turned back, you failed to notice the smug grin plastered across Jay’s face.

You heard from many people that Jay Park had an issue with disappearing. You understood what they meant. In the classes that you shared with him (which was few because your majors were different but similar enough), he would be absent for a few days at a time. At parties, even if you didn't actively seek him out, you’d see him at the beginning and after a few minutes, he’d just completely vanish. Even at some get-togethers that your mutual friends hosted, you’d hear some people complain about Jay always needing to “go to his job.” 

Now that you, more or less, lived under the same roof as him, you understood to a whole other degree what people meant.

According to what his own friends said, Jay had a night internship, and according to his brother, he also had a day job. He didn’t show up to his classes some days, but you would see him in the morning before class alive and well, so he clearly wasn’t having health issues. How crazy was his schedule? You had friends in his major with jobs of their own, and they weren’t flaky in the way that Jay was.

Jay would be up early, completely disappear for the entire day, and come home late.

It was weird. 

Not that you cared.

You could care less what happened to him.

You just found it strange.

Like right now.

It was late at night. Finals were coming up soon, and you simply couldn’t sleep. 

See, Wonnie was normal. Wonnie had an ordinary, completely sane, schedule. In the morning, Jay would take him to school, and in the afternoon (you assumed that) Jay either picked him up or Wonnie walked home. Either way, the kid had a much more tangible daily schedule, yet his brother’s was the complete opposite. But it didn’t seem like Wonnie questioned anything either.

You saw Wonnie come in and out of rooms, heard him get a glass of milk, you even said good night to him. 

The yellow-white lights that illuminated the apartment were blinding now, wearing down your eyes to the point that they felt watery. There was a sort of morose feeling that set over you as you sat at the cold kitchen counter. From final exams to the fact that your apartment was under reconstruction to the fact that you were practically intruding on our greatest enemy’s home was frustrating.

It would be completely bitchy and ungrateful of you to not recognize the sort of generosity that Jay displayed toward you. You really, genuinely, truly, could not stand him. He was someone who constantly made your day worse, someone who you'd never been able to agree with for years, someone who went out of his way to bother you– and vice versa. It wasn’t like you had no idea why he’d try to help you: he might be a supervillain to you, but he was no monster. It was clear that you were on a “I-only-doing-this-because-it’s-courteous” basis, but even then, for him to give you his own bedroom was more than courteous.

You didn’t like it.

Of all people in the world, why did he have to be so… hospitable?

You didn’t like the fact that you felt so dependent and almost helpless. 

You must have sat at that kitchen counter for a good chunk of time, because the next time you really moved from your lethargic position was when there was a sudden bang against the window. Lost in thought, you violently jerked up, jumping to your feet.

Eyes quivering to the windows, which were blackened by the dark night sky, there was nothing there. 

Strange.

You had your tongue dig into the inside of your cheek, frozen in place. Just when you thought your mind was just playing games, another loud bang against the window resounded through the room, followed by a few jumbled curse words.

You weren’t exactly happy that the one time you would get robbed it would be in your enemy's house.

Shit.

Except, instead of a masked burglar comically dressed in black, someone completely unexpected bursted through the window.

Red and blue spandex suit, complete masked-over face, and that unmistakable spider icon.

“Spider-Man?!”

Oh.

My.

God.

Why was Spider-Man landing in Jay Park’s apartment at this time?

And when you looked down at what you were wearing– a thin tank-top and pajama shorts–you suddenly became a lot more alarmed and self-conscious than you initially were.

“[Name]?” Spider-Man gaped. Except instead of that friendly and playful tone he was known for, it sounded sour. “What are you doing up at this time?”

You, who was now very consciously covering yourself up, gawked. “I’m– I was studying– What are you doing here, Spider-Man?”

“What do you mean? This is my ho–” Spider-Man stopped himself, before clearing his throat. Like a switch had been flipped, the hero began again, “I’m, um, stopping by to see my friend.”

You blinked.

“Y’know, Jay Park– dark hair, lip-piercing, super handsome and cool.”

Your nose scrunched at the description.

“I didn’t know you lived with him, Beautiful,” Spider-Man continued. “You said you lived with a friend, right?”

You pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I wouldn’t say friend. We’re like, acquaintances… by association.”

“You don’t sound like you like ‘em very much, yeah, Gorgeous?”

You weren’t about to lambaste Jay Park in front of Spider-man, who was apparently his friend. That would be discourteous, and you weren’t about to flame the guy that was letting you sleep in his house.

“He’s…” You didn’t want to make it seem like you were buddies, especially in front of Spider-Man. “He’s all right.”

Spider-Man was now inching toward you. “Just all right?”

You eyed the hero’s well-built figure as he came closer and closer to you, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. You felt even more shy and exposed when he very clearly lingered around the sight of your silhouette. The way his voice resounded throughout the room, slightly raspy from the yelling he must have done and low due to his exhaustion, sent a chill down your spine. 

“He’s okay,” you responded curtly. “How– How do you know him? How do you know Park?”

You could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you even through his mask. 

“How do I know him?” Spider-Man crouched down next to your feet at the kitchen island, looking up at you. You could hear the grin in his voice. “He met me in senior year of high school.”

Oh wow. They’ve known each other for a while.

“A spider bit him, or something,” the masked hero continued. “And I found him all sick and sad when his uncle passed.”

That’s right. In senior year of high school, Jay’s uncle, the person who took on a father figure after his parents unfortunately passed. It had taken a toll on him at the time. You remembered passing him in the hallways, seeing the messy black hair overgrown over his brows and dark eye bags. The one person that you regularly debated in AP Macro was no longer interested. At the time, you had contemplated whether or not to reach out to him, but he’d completely shut everyone out.

“That’s great,” you murmured. No matter how much you didn’t like him, it didn’t mean that he should lose someone important to him. “That’s great that he had someone there for him. I remember–”

Spider-Man looked up at you.

“I remember– I tried to talk to him about it once, in… I think it was in Stats?” you recounted. Your lips pressed together before forming a slight curve. “He yelled at me.”

“He yelled at you?”

You almost laughed. “Yeah, he did. Oh man, we never got along in high school– even now– but… It’s not nice to lose someone you love, is it?”

Spider-Man stared at you silently, before quickly agreeing– “Yeah, it isn’t.”

You bit your lip as you recounted. “I wanted to comfort him, but I don’t think he wanted me of all people to do that. At least I tried.” Your eyes fluttered over to Spider-Man. “I’m glad he had someone like you to be there for him.”

Spider-Man didn’t speak.

“Are you and Park close?” you asked.

“Yeah, we are.”

You hummed. “Oh. Do you see each other a lot?”

“Everyday.”

.

.

.

Spider-Man got to his feet.

“[Name], do you want to go on an adventure with me?”

Sometimes you thought you were stupid. Not all the time because you knew you were smart, but some time like now, where you allowed a masked man who may or may have not broken into your enemy's apartment claiming to be his friend to take you around the city at night. And you did it without even telling anyone, so if you got killed in an alleyway no one would know.

Not to worry, though.

Jay Park thought he was pretty stupid, too.

Staying out late at night right before finals week and completely forgetting about the workaholic nerd freak that lived with him temporarily (you). And to make it worse, he mentioned his own civilian self!-- and he obviously couldn’t be in two places at once. 

He needed a way to deflect.

“Wooooh!” Jay hooted as he swung from building to building.

“Spider-Man– Slow down…!”

Unlike the last two times he’d taken you out on some sort of aerial excursion, you had your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his neck and torso, hugging him from the back instead of Jay holding you bridal-style. 

It was nice for a change. For the first time, you were hanging off his back instead of being directly held by him. Jay couldn’t help the snicker that he let out when you would squeeze him and squeal in his ear out of fear.

“I thought ya said you trusted me,” he beamed. Jay could feel the way your face pressed into his back as you dangled in the sky. “C’mon, Gorgeous, don’t get all scared on me now.”

“It’s not fair- Eep!”

“What’s not fair, hm?” He shot another web. You didn't respond, opting to squeeze him harder. “What’s not fair, [Name]?”

“This!” you chided in his ear. “You-You’re not scared because you do this every day!”

“Well, maybe you should do this more then.”

To Jay, it was really weird to carry a frightened you around. He never took you for the clingy type, but maybe there’s a lot he didn’t know about you. It was especially weird when he was Spider-Man, because you were oddly nice to him. When he’s Jay, there’s no denying that you’re hostile.

“Why are you so nervous?” Jay sneered when you two landed on top of the central clock tower. You’d sat down at the top, letting the cool late-Spring night hit you. For someone notorious for their crazy confidence, it was absurd to see such a person all feeble and fiddling with their fingers.

 “It’s just finals,” you mumbled.

Jay nearly laughed. “Wow, you really are a nerdo freak.”

Your cheeks visibly heated up, folding your arms over your chest. “Hey! I’m not a nerdo fre–” You stopped yourself, before you brought your eyes up to the hero. “Did he tell you that?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “W-What?”

“Park is the only person that calls me ‘nerdo freak,’” you frowned, raising up your fingers to make air-quotes. “He’s been calling me that since highschool.”

Oh.

Shit.

“Y-Yeah,” the man responded, sucking in a shallow breath. “He talks to me about you a lot.”

Not true. 

Jay Park doesn’t talk to Spider-Man about anything. 

Because they’re the same person.

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. “Really? What does he say about me?”

Oh, this would be awkward.

“Jay thinks you’re really… Uhm…”

There’s two things Jay could do. Tell you his (Jay’s) honest thoughts about you as Spider-Man and effectively make the entire atmosphere both now and at home awkward. Though, it wouldn’t be much of a loss because he (Jay) already made it loud and clear how he felt about you through his words and actions toward you. It would only be awkward because he as Spider-Man was the one expressing it.

The second thing he could do was lie.

“He thinks you’re hot as fuck.”

Oh my fucking god what was he doing.

“Oh… uh… Really?”

Jay wanted to kill himself.

Of all things he could have said, he said thats?– Oh my god, and now you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat– What does he do?

Jay Park was not attracted to you and he will never be! Never! Ever!

It was the first thing that came to his mind! He doesn’t mean it! Jay Park hates you! He thinks you’re ugly and- Well, actually, that’s not true. You’re a very pretty woman, he did indeed get crazy butterflies the night of the soccer mixer, and he did catch himself staring at you a few times, because let’s be honest, the tiny tank-top and pajama shorts looked good as fuck on you– but still-!

“Did he tell you that… or…?”

“Yeah, that’s a direct quote.”

Jay Park! What are you doing?

part 2 here

[repulsiveliquidation]

Mikrokosmos || Grace Clinton

summary: Grace loved her little world. she didn't know if others would too.

a/n : i don't know what this is but it's fluff! there is insinuation of sex but nothing else.

Grace was a private person. She loved her people with her whole heart but she kept her work and family separate. Don’t get it wrong, she loved her team and adored being the baby but there was a bubble in her home that she didn’t want them in. 

Her mikrokosmos. 

There were two people in there that mattered more to her than football. She was willing to do anything at all to protect it from the outside world. 

You were sitting in a quiet little bookstore one day, your little nephew in your lap. He was munching on a bit of sausage from your sausage roll as you read a little novel in a corner. The smell of coffee mixed in with the books perfectly, you found yourself sitting here every other day to relax and get some peace away from your chaotic life. 

“Is this seat taken?” a Liverpool accent asks and it startles you a little. You look up and see the most beautiful pair of eyes looking down at you. The Liverpool accent smiles, pointing to the seat across from you. You stutter and nod, smiling at her awkwardly. 

“He’s cute,” the accent tells you, smiling at your nephew Jake. He giggles and the accent giggles back, her hand coming up to tickle his cheek. 

“Say hi Jakie,” you tell him, his hand grabbing at the girl tickling him. 

“Hi Jakie, I’m Grace,” she says, cooing when his little hand finds her finger. 

“He likes you,” you tell her, book and pastry forgotten. 

“That makes two of us,” she says with a grin, looking up at you. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here with the cutest baby in the world?” 

“It’s quiet, plus he likes the strawberry tart Michelle makes.” 

She turns to Jake, who’s trying to eat your blouse, to boop his nose. “You, little man,” she begins, booping his nose again; he giggles, “have great taste.” 

Grace stands, eyes sparkling in your corner of the quiet bookstore cafe.

“Can I buy you another coffee and a tart for my new favorite person?” 

“Only if you promise to sit here a while and share.” 

“Deal.” 

“Baby! I’m home!” 

“Mama!” 

A two year old knocks into her knees and she picks him up, heart growing fonder when his little giggle rang through the living room. 

“Hi little buddy,” Grace smiles, walking into your office with Jake on her hip. He tucks his face in her neck, calming into her hold when he feels her rub his back. 

“Hi baby,” you greet Grace, looking up from your desk in the corner. Your heart melts when you see Jake already falling asleep in her arms; you were struggling to put him down for his nap earlier so he was a little grumpy at tea. 

Jake was your nephew but when your sister fell into some bad habits, he was about to go into the foster system. You loved him dearly and couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him so young so you made the decision to adopt him. He had always called you Mommy when he first spoke and didn’t know his mother to be his mother. She abandoned him when she got clean and wanted a new life abroad with her boyfriend so you raised him as your own. 

Sure it got your weird stares since you were so young and Jake looked alot like you since his mother looked like you too. But you didn’t care, he was going to be loved and cared for under your roof, who cared about who said what. 

When Grace came along, you warned her about the things you had heard people say about you. Her job would have only brought on more stress for you and her so you were prepared for her ‘i can’t do this’ speech on the second date.

But Grace surprised you with her honesty and willingness to work it out because she didn’t want to lose you and she certainly didn’t want to lose her little buddy. 

Grace was young and didn’t need to deal with a practical newborn and a girl who was still getting her life in order but she didn’t care. She wanted you both and she was willing to do what it took. 

One thing she did the best was protect you both from rude people and weird stares. She wasn’t afraid to call people out and make them feel bad for their behavior. It made you uncomfortable at first but when you saw that more and more people left you alone, you were grateful to her. 

“Jakie here needs his nap, I think,” she says, kissing his head. 

“I tried to but he refused so you’re welcome to try,” you tell her, watching as she got a cheeky grin on her face before disappearing for a while. You hear her faintly bargaining with a two year old down the hall before the only thing you hear is the traffic below and your rambling thoughts. 

Seeing the time and deciding to clock out of work and start on dinner, you walk out of your office after turning everything off. 

Grace isn’t in the bedroom or the living room where she usually is so you tiptoe to Jake’s room. 

Grace was in his bed with him on top of her, both of them snoring just a little. Her legs stuck out from the end and her hands touched the floor but you never loved her more than you did in this very moment.

“Oh Grace,” you mumble, pulling your phone out to take a picture. You send it to your mum and make it your wallpaper before leaving the door ajar to start on dinner. 

Grace walks into Lionesses training grinning at her phone. Millie T sees her and watches as the young striker types fast and doesn’t stop grinning on her phone. She sneaks up on Grace and it startles her, making her drop her phone in surprise. 

“Mills!” 

“Sorry Gracie, who’s got ya grinnin’ like that eh?” 

“Nothin,” Grace provides, checking her phone for cracks. Millie grabs it out of her hands and runs away with it. She dodges through the rest of the girls in the gym, laughing her head off as Grace chases her. 

“Mary! Stop her!” 

Mary, who’s just walked in, grabs the lanky Millie and holds her tight, before Grace grabs her phone off her. 

“Who’s that you’ve got on your screensaver huh? Grace has got herself a little wife, girls!” 

“Shh Millie!” 

“Who’s got a wife?” Tooney asks, drinking from her water bottle. 

“Little Gracie does.” 

“I don’t,” Grace defends, “not yet at least,” she mumbles to herself. Grace walks away from the girls who are gathering around her, putting her headphones in in hopes that they’d get the message. 

Beth comes and sits beside Grace, stretching as the young United player does. The rest of the girls have gone back to warming up, Millie T standing at the weights looking a little guilty for outing her friend. 

“I’m happy for you Gracie,” Beth tells her quietly after they get their boots on, leaving the girl conflicted. 

Grace comes home after training exhausted. Sarina had them working hard as they had some important games coming up. The smell of your world-famous lasagna filled her senses when the front door shut behind her. 

“Is that Mama I hear at the door?” she hears you tell Jake before the soft patter of feet gets louder and louder. 

“Hello, love,” Grace sighs, holding Jake in one arm while snaking the other around your middle. You feel her muscles relax when your warmth blends into hers. Jake wriggles around in her arms after a while and she puts him down, watching as he goes back to his building blocks on his play mat. 

“I missed you,” she mumbles, hugging you from behind as you stir the tomato sauce. Grace kisses your nape and you lean back into her a little, realizing you missed her just as much as she did. 

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” you tell her, both of you looking at Jake who was showing the dog what blocks he had, “we both did.” 

Grace pulls out and you turn over, watching her reach for the wipes she kept in her side table. 

You drag a finger over her warm skin as she cleans you both up, leaving soft kisses all over the marks she’s left on you. 

Her face says something entirely different though, like there was something bothering her. 

“Grace?”

“Hm?” she looks up at you and you watch those eyes you fell in love with look troubled. 

“What’s wrong, love?” 

“You’ve always been able to tell when something’s bothering me.” 

“It’s because I know you, darling,” you say softly, sitting up and reaching for her chin to look up at you. “What’s the matter, lovely?” 

“Millie saw you today,” Grace sighs, now sitting cross-legged with you. Her fingers trace along the insides of your forearms, beautiful eyes refusing to look at you. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Millie got my phone and saw you and Jake today.” 

“Okay,” you say, taking her hand in yours. “So?” 

“So? I’ve never told anyone about you two. Not even the girls.” 

“Why not?” 

Grace thinks, wondering what her excuse was. 

All the other girls never hid their relationships. 

Why did she?

“I love having you all to myself, I don’t want to share what we’ve got just yet.” 

“Oh honey,” you coo, realizing where all this was coming from. “The girls will understand, Gracie.”

“I don’t want to make you feel like you need to hide who you are with them.” 

“You’d never let that happen, Gracie,” you say, leaning in to kiss her soft lips. “Never.” 

You stand, walking backwards into the bathroom. You’re taunting Grace, hinting at round two in the shower. 

“Besides, I’d love to meet the girls who don’t know the baby has a baby.” 

||

“Who’s that?” 

“Who’s who?” 

“The girl Gracie’s with,” Maya gasps “and the cutest little boy ever!” 

“You wanna say hi little buddy?” Grace coos, taking Jake out of your hands before walking out towards the girls. You follow her and strike up a conversation with Beth, Lotte and Leah, watching Grace out of the corner of your eye. 

The girls fawn over Jake and seemingly Sarina joins in, practice for the day delayed by about a half hour. 

“This is what you’ve been hiding Grace?” Millie quips, tickling Jake a little as Mary makes faces at him. 

“They’re very important to me, Mills.”

“I get that,” she nods, “I’m happy for you Grace. Thank you for sharing them with us.” 

You’re sitting in the stands with Jake, watching as his eyes light up when Grace shows off her skills. He becomes a little fussy at nap time and Sarina, to your surprise, takes him from you and holds him the entire hour he naps on her shoulder while you do some work on your laptop. 

At the end of training, Grace hops the barriers to get to you. The girls have already come over and taken Jake to the locker room, his giggling makes your heart grow fonder of the girls you’ve watched on tv for years and heard stories about. 

“I think that was a successful day in the office, don’t you think?” Grace says tiredly, sitting beside you. 

“Mhm, it was,” you turn and face Grace, her perfect smile on her face when your eyes lock with hers. “The girls love Jake and it’s clear they love you. Thank you for letting them into our little world. I’d love to share more of it with them.”

“I think they’d like that.” 

“Jake! I am utterly heartbroken that you said she was your favorite!” 

“HA! I told you he liked me better!”

“FUCK OFF LOTTE!” 

“Leah! Language around the baby!”

“PWUCK!” 

“Oh no.”

[thinkinonsense]

THE BOY IS MINE✮

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

C/W: cursing, obsessive behavior, and slightly sexual content (mostly flirty behavior except at the end)

Word Count: 980

A/N: this is inspired by the song and video for the boy is mine by ariana grande. kinda just wanted to write about someone being obsessive and crazy. if you haven't seen the music video, I would suggest it. it's pretty short so I hope you enjoy <3

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

Missions weren't always as exciting as they might seem; bosses were demanding and cruel. The danger was inevitable but you needed to eat so there wasn't much of a choice in finding other work. This would have to do for now but sometimes a girl needs to create her own excitement in life.

Which is exactly what you did when you met the Wolverine.

It was a quick first impression but God, it was one to remember. You were sent to settle a deal with a couple men upstate when a strange man pins you to a wall in the hallway; pressing his hips to the front of your black skirt and a hand over your mouth. He smelled of cigar smoke, wood, and mint. Without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the meat of his flesh until he moves it.

"Who the hell are you..?" You hiss.

"Stay here." He ordered.

The man walks away; metal claws shoot out of his hands as he attacks the businessmen at the table. You had never been so furious. The last thing you needed was for some stranger to come and take your credit. This was your job; not his.

Despite being livid with the stranger, you couldn't help but notice how attractive he was. The man sunk his claws in all their guts; you watched them fall one by one until only the two of you were left in the warehouse. Once you snapped out of his trance, you swiftly reached across the table for the paperwork. His hand lands on top of your latex glove, stopping you.

"I can't let you take that, princess." He says.

"I don't take orders from animals." You put on your best fake smile.

"Really? Because it looks like you did just a couple of minutes ago."

He had you there.

You notice a pair of dog tags dangling against his chest. One of your hands grabs them, pulling him to you. The side shown to you says, Logan while the other says, Wolverine.

Cute name.

Over his shoulders, you saw more men running in. A pleasing smirk spread across your face, leading him to turn around and see what you were smiling at.

"Since you handled that last group so well all by yourself," You swiftly knock him down with a heel to his chest, catching him off guard. "I'll let you take the next ones too, Wolvie."

Just as the men entered, you snatched the paperwork and booked it out the window to return it to your boss.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It had been months and still no run-ins with Wolverine. It was beginning to drive you insane; flashbacks of him pushing you up against the wall with his hand over your mouth replayed in your mind almost every chance it could. Your days were spent sketching pictures of him so you wouldn't forget his face or searching for him.

It felt sickening how much you needed to see him again. Your apartment was decorated with sketches of him. He took up every inch of space in your head. This wasn't like you. Normally, you don't entertain the men you encounter but something about the Wolverine was intoxicating. This wasn't some schoolgirl crush. This was a full-on obsession, and you knew it.

The only thing you could do was make him just as obsessed as you were; making him yours.

It took weeks but you finally managed to create your potion for the Wolverine. Now, all you had to do was find him. You asked around to see who he works for and it didn't take long until the name Charles Xavier appeared. Before you knew it, you were back in your latex apparel and standing on the roof of the mansion. The potion was strapped to your belt as you crawled down the brick walls and into his bedroom window.

Almost everyone was out on a mission that evening except for Logan and a handful of students downstairs. You knew if you came any other day, Xavier would have seen you coming and you couldn't have risked that happening.

It was late, midnight by the time he came upstairs. You sat on his bed, waiting perfectly for him. The second you heard his heavy footsteps, your heart almost pounded out of your chest at the thrill.

When the bedroom door opens you are greeted with the scene of the man of your dreams in a white tank top, blue jeans, and a beer in his hand. Instead of running like you assumed he would, Logan stands still with a smirk on his face.

"Didn't think I would see you again," Logan said. He wasn't moving as fast as you would like him to, so you used your whip to bring him closer until he's knees hit the front of the bed.

"It's simply meant to be, Wolvie."

Quickly, you pull the red potion from your belt and pop the lid open. One hand snakes its way up to his jaw, holding him still while the other moves closer to pour. He stops you by pulling off your lacey black mask, finally revealing all of your pretty face to him.

Logan knew exactly who you were. He had been looking for you too; searching every abandoned warehouse and sketchy alley in town. No one knew your name so he thought it was a lost cause and tried to move on. He should've known that you would show up at some point for him again.

Honestly, Logan thought it was cute that you brought some sort of love potion. Little did you know, you had been haunting his mind ever since that night. He wasted no time in smacking the potion out of your hands; laying you back and inching closer until his lips ghosted over your throat.

"I don't need a damn potion."

[flamingpudding]

Cassiopea and Orion

Ellie had a plan. She promised she had one. This wasn't like when Clocky would sent her off on a mission through time with nothing more but a little note with a cryptic message on what to do.

Danny had given her clear instruction. Before one of her many travels to see the world, Danny, in his mid twenties and she in her late teens, had taken her aside once. Telling her about specific instruction she should follow, should she ever find herself in a moment of need, and Danny wasn't able to help her.

Well, now she was in that kind of situation. Amity Park was destroyed with no survivors. Vlads castle was no more. Both Dan and her got deaged, but Dan had to be put in a frozen state when he started to destabilize. And Danny, he had gotten captured by the GIW shoving her out of harms way and telling her to remember what he told her before.

Ellie was pretty sure Danny was telling her to follow the emergency instructions.

So here she was now. In Gotham. Keeping to the shadows and trying to find her way around.

No one ever bothered to tell her how hard it was to navigate through a city like Gotham. You would think it would be easy to find some guy running around at night in an armored spandex furry costume.

But no, here she was, in a random alley. In a city, Danny had specifically told her to avoid it unless the emergency instruction came into play. Maybe she should just steal a map.

She was contemplatingly staring at a gas station for that until she noticed a shadow jumping over the roof tops. It took her only a second to decide on her next action. Ellie was pressed on time after all.

"Hey you!" She shouted loudly flying up to follow that shadow. "Wait up!"

Thankfully, the shadow listened and stopped on the next rooftop toward her. She insanity noticed it tensing. Now, she noticed that the shadow was a kid. He looked small, and Ellie figured he was probably around 11 or 12.

"You are one of the Bees and Birds, right?" She questioned once she floated a bit closer. Also the kid tensed up.

"You mean Bats and Birds." The kid clicked his tongue at her, crossing their arms.

"Bees, Bats, who cares. My question is you know the big bad bee, right?" She waved the kid of, she had more pressing matter than getting their animals right. "I need to get a message to him."

The kid clicked their tongue once more, huffing and muttering something she couldn't hear. Probably talking to someone on a com. Either way, Ellie took his silence as a form of telling her to continue.

"Can you tell the big bad bee-" "Bat" "-the following?" She ignored the kid cutting in trying to get her message across and follow Danny's instructions to a T.

"Cassiopea is calling out to Orions Nursery before Rho dies to help her youngest."

There was long, drawn-out silence, and the kid was hissing something into coms. Ellie fidget with her finger nervously. Going through Danny's emergency instructions through her mind again until she hear a thud close to her and wirled around.

With wide blue glowing eyes, she looked up at the man dressed like a bat for a couple of seconds before taking on a defensive position. Eyes now narrowed at the man that was clearly studying her.

"I was under the impression that Phantom's youngest child was older. You appear to be no older than five."

"Yea well shit happened!" She shot back, still unsure if she could trust the man even if he mentioned Danny's hero alias. Her hands started to glow slightly as she prepared to attack in case things went back. But the man didn't appear to be phased by it. Not like the kid that was tensing up.

"You will be safe with us. But what happened to Phantom?"

Ellie eyes flicked over to the other kid that had now come closer to stand next to the bat guy before looking back to the big guy. She did not drop her stance yet. Still unsure of how much trust she can put here despite what Danny had told her, she had not yet heard the right response.

The man appeared to sense her distrust, as he kneeled to be on eye level with her. "Jupiter and Rho Cas will not be harmed. Orion gave Cassiopea his word."

Finally, Ellie relaxed, dropping her defensive stance but still watching the man with narrowed eyes. She hesitated a short moment before carefully saying her next words, hoping the man knew enough to k ow the grave meaning behind them.

"Phantom lost his haunt."

[yourmomsawh0r3]

long time no see

pairing: tyler owen’s x fem! reader

summary: Tyler Owens reunites with his childhood love, Y/N, at a rodeo, protecting her from a EF5 tornado

Tyler Owens had loved Y/N since grade school when he used to pull on her pigtails and tease her relentlessly. Now, years later, fate brought them together again at the local rodeo. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, but Tyler couldn't focus on anything other than Y/N. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, her long hair blowing in the wind, freckles dotting her face, and cute dimples appearing when she smiled.

Gathering his courage, Tyler walked up to her, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, Y/N," he called out, a grin spreading across his face.

She turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise. "Wait, oh my god, Tyler? I haven’t seen you in ages!" She gave him a big hug, her familiar scent of cherries filling his senses and bringing back a rush of memories.

They both asked simultaneously, "How are you doing?" and then laughed together, saying in unison, "You go first."

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling with joy. "You first, Y/N. It's been way too long."

As they chatted and caught up, the sky began to darken ominously. The familiar wail of tornado sirens cut through the air, sending a wave of panic through the crowd. People started to scatter, heading for the nearest shelters. Tyler's eyes scanned the chaos, searching desperately for Y/N.

Suddenly, he spotted her. She was helping an older lady who had been pushed down in the rush. Tyler’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd toward her. "Y/N!" he shouted over the noise. "Are You crazy?! We need to get to the shelter!"

Y/N looked up, relief washing over her face at the sight of him. She helped the older woman to her feet, and once the woman was safely on her way, Tyler grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her toward the nearest shelter. They ran together, hand in hand, through the storm's fury.

Inside the shelter, they found a seat in the far back. The sound of the wind howling outside was deafening, and the roof began to lift under the sheer force of the storm. Tyler didn't hesitate; he towered his body over Y/N, shielding her from the flying debris.

After what felt like an eternity, the storm passed. The shelter door creaked open, revealing a world turned upside down by the tornado. Y/N looked up at Tyler, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

Tyler's phone buzzed with an alert from his crew. His face grew serious as he read the message. "An EF4 made landfall in Topeka, Kansas," he said, his voice tight.

Y/N's eyes widened in horror. "My momma and daddy! I gotta go. They live there, on the same farm since I was a little girl."

Tyler grabbed her hand again, determination in his eyes. "Come with me. We'll check on them together."

They hurried to Tyler's truck, the devastation around them a stark reminder of the storm's power. The drive to Topeka was tense, the sky still dark with lingering clouds. Tyler kept a firm grip on the wheel, his other hand holding Y/N's for reassurance.

When they arrived at Y/N's family farm, the sight that greeted them was both heartbreaking and relieving. The farmhouse was damaged but still standing. Y/N's parents emerged from the house, shaken but unharmed.

"Momma! Daddy!" Y/N cried, rushing into their arms. Tears of relief streamed down her face.

Tyler stood back, watching the reunion with a soft smile. He had always cared for Y/N, and seeing her safe and happy filled him with a deep sense of contentment.

Suddenly, Y/N remembered something crucial. "Moose!" she exclaimed, panic rising in her voice. "Where's Moose?"

Her parents' faces fell, and her mother spoke, her voice trembling. "He was in the house when the storm hit. We couldn't get to him in time."

Without hesitation, Y/N broke away from her parents and ran towards the partially collapsed house. "Y/N, wait!" Tyler shouted, but she didn't stop.

"It's too dangerous!" he called out, running after her.

Y/N ignored him, her heart pounding with fear for her beloved chocolate lab. She carefully navigated the debris, calling out for Moose. She finally found him, trembling and stuck under a fallen beam but otherwise unharmed. "Moose, come here, boy!" she coaxed gently, freeing him and scooping him up in her arms.

Holding Moose like a baby on her hip, Y/N made her way out of the house. Just as she stepped outside, the rest of the house gave way, collapsing entirely. Tyler's heart nearly stopped as he watched the house crumble behind her.

He ran to her, his face a mask of anxiety and relief. "You scared me half to death," he said, grabbing her face with both hands. His eyes searched hers, filled with worry. "Don't ever do that again."

Y/N's breath hitched, and she nodded, tears of relief streaming down her face as Moose licked her cheek. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave him."

Tyler pulled her into a tight embrace, careful of Moose between them. "I know," he murmured into her hair. "Just promise me you'll be careful. I don't want to lose you."

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling the safety and warmth of his arms around her. "I promise," she whispered back.

As they stood there, the storm's aftermath fading into the background, it was clear that their bond had only grown stronger. And with Moose safely in her arms and Tyler by her side, Y/N knew she could face anything that came their way.

Tyler pulled back slightly, looking deeply into her eyes. "Y/N, I've waited a long time to tell you this," he said softly. "I've loved you since we were kids, since the days I pulled on your pigtails just to get your attention."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words. "Tyler, I..."

He gently placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. "I want to do this right," he said. "Will you go on a date with me?"

A smile broke across Y/N's face, and she nodded. "Yes, Tyler. I'd love that."

Relief and joy washed over Tyler as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender, special kiss. It was a promise of a new beginning.