#Superhero au part 2

[cyndrastic]

reposting the art i posted yesterday in one post because how the fuck do i work this app

anyway

Pip “hates french people” Pirrup and Christophe “obnoxiously french” Mole

gregstophe canon Matt and Trey told me themselves i don’t make the rules (pip and damien design explained here)

please click for quality i beg you

#next part of the fairy au out today hopefully?? #after like 2 months?? #why did no one tell me making comics was this hard when i became an artist smh #south park au #south park #sp superhero au #south park art #south park fanart #pip south park #south park pip #damien south park #south park damien #christophe south park #south park christophe #gregory south park #south park gregory #gregstophe #estella south park #south park estella #art #comic #incorrect quotes

[eriquin]

Steddie Superhero AU part 2

Here's the second part of what I've outlined/written for the Steddie Superhero AU. This is what I would consider an outline but I know I'm not going to write it in any more detail that I already have because I have too many other WIPs.

(part 1) (you are here) (part 3) (part 4)

Warning tags: injuries, blood, secret identities

...

In his day job, Eddie is a barista in Steve’s neighborhood and recognizes his face. He’s chatted with him before, but when Steve comes in the next day for his usual morning coffee and pastry, he turns up the charm. Steve is looking bruised and battered, as he always does. The surface level stuff sticks around the longest, like his body gets tired of healing and doesn’t want to do the last mile. Eddie gives him an employee discount on his order and makes a comment about EMTs being the real city heroes. Steve’s a little taken aback by the attention but rolls with it and thanks him for keeping him awake. 

They continue to flirt a little bit every morning, even though the coffee shop is busy. Steve comes in on his day off just so he can wait for the rush to be gone and talk to Eddie when it’s calm. Eddie is dialing the charm up to eleven, talking to him about music and books and whatever else strikes his fancy. He asks about the bruises that Steve was sporting the other day, and if it’s job related. Steve handwaves it away as sometimes the job has to deal with people in bad situations, and how they still need help so he does his best. 

They start dating, casually. Robin figures out who Eddie is because she’s good like that and confronts him and tells him that he needs to tell Steve what he’s doing. She does this when he’s in costume as Hellfire but she has evidence that she knows who he is and what’s going on and says that if he doesn’t come clean, she will tell Steve. He kind of brushes her off. There’s a general rule against compromising secret identities, and Steve doesn’t even seem to have one. He’s just Steve. 

Eddie is trying to determine if Steve is a dick all the time or just to capes, and he’s chagrined to find that Steve is actually a great guy. Sometimes he can be a bit of a dick, but mostly he’s just sweet, especially to Eddie. But it’s definitely not far enough along in their relationship for Eddie to tell Steve who he is, and he definitely doesn’t trust whoever hero-Steve is. He can’t really tell what the difference is and he has his suspicions about the Regal Heroes and their missing Prince, but he can’t prove anything. And if he is that Prince, Eddie really doesn’t want him knowing who he is. So he doesn’t tell him and spends an awful lot of time justifying why it’s okay. It doesn’t keep him from making bad jokes that are plays on his former superhero name, calling him “prince charming” and things like that. It makes Steve feel weird about liking it. 

It’s a double life. Steve and Hellfire interact more around the Party, because they’re both training them. They get into nasty arguments about the way they’re both training these kids. Steve wants them to be ready for whatever gets thrown at them, and thinks they can’t be held back from being heroes. He says they’re idealistic and he’s there to make sure they get patched back up. Hellfire wants them to lay low and use their powers to stay off the radar, but goes with them to take care of anything that might be too big for them. Steve never does this. He has no hero alter ego or mask to put on. They have fights (arguments) about each of them considering what the other is doing cowardly. 

Eventually, things in their relationship get a little more serious and Eddie and Steve are back at Eddie’s place. It’s an apartment in a warehouse. He shares it with his uncle, who is the night watchman of the warehouse, and it’s very isolated. They talk a bit about having some time alone together and not getting interrupted, but right as they’re getting handsy, Steve’s phone goes off. It’s one of those emergency signals that he can’t ignore, and he apologizes and rushes off. Eddie knows that it’s almost certainly not the EMT thing, and he goes to spy on where Steve rushes off to. He sees Erica appear and teleport him away, and then he goes back to put his gear on and catch up with the group. 

Meanwhile, they’ve brought in Steve because Nancy has gotten shot pretty bad and they’ve been patching her up but need his help. He has El take the bullets out with telekinesis and is stitching her up the best he can, but it’s not going well. He doesn’t think she’ll make it if they try to move her to a hospital. 

Hellfire has shown up because he knew it was a Party emergency (and he’s got a basically open invitation because the kids, Dustin and Will especially, like him)  but didn’t expect it to be like this. The kids are all just panicking about what happened with Nancy and Hellfire is trying to get the story out of them. No one is sure if they’re still in danger. He starts circling them up like they need to move or be ready for an attack. 

Steve is still working on Nancy, with some help from the others. He’s annoyed by Hellfire trying to figure out what to do to help, and says something like “unless you can use your powers to summon a doctor, you’re useless.” 

She starts going into cardiac arrest. Steve yells at El to get the bullets out, now, because they’re preventing him from healing her even more so than a stopped heart. There’s a spray of blood where El rips the bullets out and Steve jumps in to do his wound-absorption thing before anyone can stop him. His internal reasoning (if he has any) is that he’s dealt with gaping bullet wounds and a stopped heart so he’ll probably be fine. Robin is already predicting that he’s going to do this and preparing for it. Possibly the other adults are, too, because they’re used to his self-sacrificing ways to the point that they’re mad at it, but Hellfire has not seen him do this before and is freaking out as Steve collapses. 

They then have to switch from dealing with Nancy’s issues to dealing with Steve’s, but it helps that he heals so fast. His heart restarts on its own and he is conscious and bleeding and in pain but realizes that Hellfire is holding onto him. He’s like “S’fine. S’what I do, man,” while they haul him into a hospital bed. 

The kids have never seen him do this for someone who was dying before and it’s terrifying to them. They don’t know what’s going to happen. Dustin is just putting together that they didn’t call Hellfire in and he just showed up, and now he’s cradling Steve like they’re close. He wants to know what the hell is going on. Hellfire is freaked out as they bandage Steve up but don’t do much more than get him hooked up to IVs and machines for monitors. Nancy’s mostly recovered again and angry about Steve having done this. 

The kids (and Hellfire) want to know what the hell has happened. Robin explains that Steve does this as a last resort if someone’s dying, because he heals so fast. Nancy is chiding herself for having been hurt so badly to have this happen, because it’s awful to watch Steve have to recover again. Hellfire wants to know if that’s what happened when he went to see Steve alone, and Robin confirms that it was. 

Hellfire: So he really just healed me? I mean... Why? He barely knew me. Robin: And you came to him for help and Dustin likes you. Besides, he said you weren’t hurt all that bad, you were just being a baby about getting stabbed.  Dustin: You still haven’t told us how you knew to come here. We didn’t call you Hellfire, trying to get his freakout under control: And that hurts, you know. You called Steve, but not me?  Dustin: ... How did you know we called Steve? 

Hellfire realizes that he’s a little caught in this and he can’t think of a good lie because he’s got Steve’s blood on him and Dustin isn’t the only one who looks suspicious. Nancy, who knows him pretty well but also knows Steve even better, is looking angrily at him. Robin’s the one who breaks the tension. 

Robin: He knows because he and Steve were on a date when we called.  Hellfire hisses at her: Damn it, Swift Robin, shrugging: They’re gonna find out eventually. Steve’s not that good at keeping secrets from this group. Hellfire drags her aside: He doesn’t know Robin, flabbergasted: I’m sorry, what? You said you were going to tell him.  Hellfire: Well, I didn’t! It just hasn’t come up.

Robin is now furious and grabs his arm to drag him to the room where they’ve got Steve bandaged up and recovering. "Well, now’s your chance, loverboy."

She shuts everyone else out of the room and tells them that Hellfire needs privacy so he can be there when Steve wakes up. The Party accepts it, but the older group needs more information and Robin isn’t willing to spill it yet. 

Steve wakes up with Eddie sitting next to his bedside. He doesn’t register what Eddie’s wearing, only that he looks nervous about being there. He’s just coming back to consciousness slowly and thinks that Robin must have brought him here, or someone had. He grabs Eddie’s hand and squeezes it and says he can explain, but he’s also a little loopy and says that he’s so very, very glad to see him. 

Steve: I’m not in a hospital, right? Eddie: no, you’re not Steve: Okay, this has happened before. I can explain. I just... I’m glad you’re here.  Eddie: Oh, Stevie Steve: No, I meant to tell you about this, eventually. I didn’t mean to hide it. I just... 

He finally focuses on what Eddie’s wearing and stops talking for a second. Eddie realizes that he’s putting it together. 

Eddie: Look, I’ve got to tell you something Steve: You’re wearing... That coat is... That’s Hellfire’s suit.

He gets a look on his face like he’s come to another realization about what it all means and what the last couple of weeks have meant and how Eddie has been lying to him. He goes from confused to hurt to angry in the space of about five seconds. Then he’s just glaring at Eddie.

Steve: What do you need to tell me, Eddie? Eddie: Yeah... Uh. Robin didn’t bring me here. I was here already. 

Steve keeps glaring until Eddie admits that he is Hellfire and then there’s yelling about lying to him and seeking him out and how he already knew who Steve was and how he must’ve started flirting deliberately the day after. Steve is beyond angry and wants to know if Eddie was actually going to tell him if this hadn’t all happened and then it comes out that Robin knew and made him tell Steve because now everyone knows. Steve is angry and exhausted and hasn’t recovered enough to actually get out of the hospital bed so tells him to get out of his sight. Eddie puts his masks back on before he leaves the room, and says something snide to Robin as he makes a quick exit from their base.

Robin goes in to talk to Steve and bring him some pain meds, and he’s still furious but now he’s mad at her for not telling him. They yell at each other a little bit and the rest of the kids are peeking in and worried. Nancy and Jonathan have figured out what just happened and are trying to do damage control with the kids and get them all home. Steve’s going to stay there overnight and Robin is going to call him in sick to work and make sure his shift is covered, all of the stuff she usually does when he risks his life like this, but he’s still mad at her. She understands that but says that she needed to at least give Hellfire the chance to tell Steve himself, and he said that he would. She’s disappointed that he hadn’t yet, like she misjudged him. 

Steve recovers after a day or two and goes home. He wonders if he should look into moving, but realizes that Hellfire already knew where he lived somehow. He’s annoyed that he’s going to have to find a new coffee shop now, because he really did like the coffee. But he goes on with his life as best he can, trying not to admit that he’s a little heartbroken. He refuses to talk about it to the Party and doesn’t ask them if they’re still working with Hellfire. He just doesn’t want to know. 

Meanwhile, Hellfire has quit his job and moved out of his uncle’s place because he doesn’t want Steve or anyone to find his real life persona. He’s even more sure that he’s figured out who Steve was even though it’s mostly conspiracy theories and rumors around the Prince. But he knows that Steve Henderson used to be Steven Harrington and it all seems to add up for him. Even though he doesn't think Steve would be vicious, he doesn’t want to attract the attention of superhero royalty.

...

There's a part 3 written up, too. And possibly a part 4. I need to figure out how to break it up.

Taglist: @kedreeva, @whydamnitwhy, @fiore-della-valle, @captainhaterade

#stranger things #steddie #superhero au #part 2 #my writing #outline only fics

[spider-man-2o99]

Does the run where Miguel had the white suit and said GR’s bike was fuck count as canon?

That would be Spider-Man 2099 v3 (2015)!! It was canon to 616* when it was coming out, but I have no goddamn clue if it still is now, what with how often Marvel decides to entirely reboot 2099 every single time it gets mentioned, nowadays.

(*Marvel 2099 does not take place in the 616-verse. The 90s books are all designated as taking place in earth-928. More rambling under the cut.)

The Miguel we see in this run is very specifically a Miguel who has been stranded in the past (2014) after the events of the Spider-Verse crossover destroyed his present. People have argued for years whether or not this Mig should share a wiki page with the Miguel from 1992. I have no idea where he should go, either.

ANAD Miguel has been pulled from such a point in the timeline of the original '92 comics that the last, uh... eight, or so? issues of his debut solo run have not happened to him, because PAD did not write those issues and did not particularly care to acknowledge whatever the hell went down without him, which if nothing else I respect the inherent humor of.

While SM2099 v3 ends with Miguel finally returning to his correct time period, it is strongly implied that he hasn't quite gone back to exactly the same 2099 as the one that he left.

'Cause... Time-travel stuff. Idk.

#asks #anon #anonymous #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #marvel #fwiw vis-a-vis my own headcanons i honestly tend to think abt the 2010s run(s) of sm2099 more as au books than proper continuations of v1 #it just. is a heavy blow to miguel's character to remove him from his proper context and setting. like. he works best in-situ #if the world is just and there are superheros on-call who can Handle Things then miguel is just Some Guy #and that's literally just how the ANAD runs go. miguel no longer Has to be spider-man so for the most part he isn't because pete's got it #you're taking away his Cause by putting him in the present and it leaves his character directionless w/o an outlet #which is why at least to me those books are so damn BORING #Nothing Happens but not in a fun slice-of-life way it's just Nothing Happens and there's no reason 2 get invested #but. anyways. im getting on a tangent that's definitely a rant for another time #thank u for the ask! :)

[kitticicle]

Characterrrrrrrrss! (They need names)

#fantasy #original character #the generic superhero au formula #except its an original work #and i did more worldbuilding than people usually do for superhero au's #these 2 aren't major characters #they're just a part of the worldbuilding #they are siblings #and do a band together #can you call it a band if it's only 2 people? #they're popular and do crane wives and oh hellos genre music #which feels weird #because while i like music made by the crane wives and the oh hellos #they aren't really everyone knows who they are popularity #coin toss: the adventures of some unfortunate souls

[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

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #park jongseong #park jay #jay x reader #jay enhypen x reader #jay fluff #star-sim #vanya-writes #enhypen smut #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong x reader

[deadsetobsessions]

AU List

Hello! Welcome! This is my attempt at keeping the AU's boiuncing around in my head in order. They should be mostly in chronological order.

Some of them are getting turned into full length fics! The list (and it's open to suggestions) can be found here: Fic List

A couple of things:

Please feel free to write your own fics based on any of these! No need to ask, simply link it so I can also read it <3

If you have any specific scenarios you have an idea for and would like me to write- my asks/prompts are always open! I can't guarantee quality as I do most of my writing at like, 3 AM but I'll try my best!

I don't condone racism, bigotry, homophobia, etc.. I do not welcome it here. I acknowledge that I have biases that I've yet to unlearn. If there's something that makes you feel unwelcome in the things I write, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.

I write these mostly on little to no sleep (that’s when I get creative I guess?) so good luck.

Squatter! Danny Raises Tim AU:

[Here] In which Tim finds a squatter (Danny) in his house and gets a brother.

[Here] AU of Squatter!Danny where Tim finds Danny squatting in the Nest as Red Robin and thinks he's a coffee-fueled hallucination.

[Here] Tim and Danny stalks the Dynamic Duo and freaks them out.

[Here] Tim and Danny goes shopping, Jazz Fenton casually suggests murder as a means of sibling adoption.

[Here] Tim meets Jason! Robin and fanboys his way into thinking he could become Robin. Danny tries to temper Tim’s stalking habits.

[Here] Family Bonding

Ghost King and the Justice League:

[Here] The JLA summons Danny and Constantine regrets his poor life decisions.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Ghost King!Danny can hear the screams of the Joker's victims.

[Here] Batman tells Hal Jordan to babysit the unconscious Ghost King because Hal’s neon green.

[Here] Zatanna helps the dying ghost boy by repairing his grave and hunting down the GIW

[Here] Zatanna retrieves the gravestones of Phantom's subjects and gives him a safe space to grieve.

[Here] Ghost King!Danny babysits Wonder Woman at the behest of the Goddess Hera.

[Here] Ghost King!Danny munches on some demons.

[Here] Local space ghost scolds superhero club because they littered in space.

[Here] The OG Young Justice team summons Danny in a private school bathroom

[Here] The JLA failed to prevent cultists from summoning the ghost king. Luckily, they get Danny instead, who seems to be the king's assistant.

Alcoholic! Danny Adopts Jason Todd AU: (Fic)

[Here] Alcoholic!Danny saves Jason Todd from a mugger and gives up alcohol to be a big brother.

[Here] Alcoholic! Danny confronts his stalker, buys chili dogs for his new little brother, and kills a pedo in that order.

[Here] Going Sober!Danny meets Batman, and then gives his new little brother an apartment and tells him he can go to school.

[Here] Going Sober! Danny takes his little brother back to school shopping

Spider in Gotham AU: (Fic)

[Here] In which Peter Parker gets isekai'd and shrunk, commits crime, and adopts a Gothamite street kid for a brother.

[Here] In which Peter Parker’s alternate memories haunt him in the form of nightmares, his identity gets made by his roommate, and he talks to a concerned vigilante with poor sleeping habits about his own poor sleeping habits.

Gotham! Danny and His Bats:

[Here] Writing Prompt: Cryptid Danny predates the Bats.

[Here] In which Danny is both Tim Drake and Gotham's City Spirit.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Danny and Gotham’s Bay that’s full of dead bodies, ghosts, and a very alive Red Hood

[Here] Gotham Spirit Phantom has a moment of introspection and would like people to stop blowing parts of the city up

[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in and proceeds to have a bad time and decides to DIY mental health.

[Here] AU of Gotham Spirit Phantom where Danny has no idea what universe he got reborn in, pt. 2: Danny bullies Bruce into self care.

[Here] Writing Prompt: Shade! Jason stumbles across a ghost Danny, adopts him, gets turned into a full-fledged ghost, eats cookies, and gets pulled back into his human body.

Danny in Gotham:

[Here] Accidental Crime Lord! Danny Phantom and his takeover ft. a gaggle of orphans and a stressed Batman

[Here] Writing Prompt Lawyer!Danny Fenton and heroism within the confines of the law.

[Here] Lawyer! Danny prompt fulfillment

[Here] Coffee Shop Owner! Danny enforces the shop's neutrality by beating up the Joker with a chair and accidentally seduces the Red Hood.

[Here] New to the City! Danny dropkicks Red Hood in his stupid red helmet

[Here] Danny vs. Mr. Muffins

[Here] In which Bruce, Alfred, and Dick grieves while Danny wonders why they were grieving on an empty grave.

[Here] In which Danny did not get the memo about Gotham's pharmaceutical companies

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU:

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans up beach after local vigilante explodes his plane over the ocean.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny cleans the Gotham bay and does broke college student things.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny extorts money from Batman for blankets.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes a friend and calls Red Robin broke.

[Here] Sea Cryptic! Danny makes Batman a debtor and makes friends with the best vigilante recyclers in Gotham.

[Here] Tim asks Danny to introduce Tim to Danny, Jason has a post-zombie crisis.

[Here] Batman tries to adopt another kid, Danny gets Vlad flashbacks, and the Bats finds out that Jason is stinky.

Danny Gets Yeeted (Yoted?) Into Gotham AU:

[Here] Danny gets dropped on the Batmobile and acquires minions

[Here] IOU One (1) Big (Harvey) Dent

[Here] Danny trolls the Waynes by telling them he's died before (and pretending he doesn't know they're vigilantes).

[Here] Tim makes bad excuses for vigilante injuries and Danny forgets about the knife embedded in his stomach.

[Here] Sleepy, assassin-trained Damian accidentally stabs civilian Danny and feels bad about it.

[Here] Danny's Knife Collection (but not just knives).

[Here] Ghostbusters but they don't actually catch the ghost (Danny)

[Here] Danny’s in the goddamn walls!

[Here] Danny's first family game night: trauma, eating paint, and aiming the Bat cannon at the GCPD and firing feral vigilantes out of it.

[Here] Cassandra Cain (former Feral Child) reassures Danny (who is Ghost Feral) that they're siblings.

[Here] Danny gets ice-cream with Duke, Bruce vs. (corrupt) CPS

[Here] Danny does gardening with Alfred

Danielle "Dani"/"Ellie" Phantom:

[Here] "Ellie" visits Gotham and encounters a Stinky Red Hood.

[Here] "Dani" trades "removing corrupted ectoplasm" for "a meeting with Batman about the GIW" ft. Stinky Red Hood and a confused Nightwing.

[Here] A paralegal gets reincarnated/isekai’ed as Danielle “Nellie” Phantom, Prompt

Gremlin Genius! Timothy Drake:

[Here] Toddler! Tim is irritated at his heroes for showing up late at their own Gala.

[Here] Tower Scene AU

Reincarnated as Gamer! Timmy Drake (fem Tim): (Fic)

[Here] The Dissociative Experience™️ of realizing your afterlife is a cosmic oopsie (and that you’re now playing a game as a female Tim Drake).

[Here] Art for the fic

New Tim-line, Who Dis? AU:

[Here] Time Traveling! Tim has a crisis on a plane and hires Deathstroke to off the Joker.

[Here] Time Traveling! Tim takes over Bludhaven's underground at nine years old by terrorizing them and takes out his big brother's enemies via blackmail and Amanda Waller.

[Here] Tim Drake Vs. The Education System round 2

[Here] Dick Grayson remembering his dumbass, self-sacrificing little brother from a different Tim-line.

Prompts Found:

[Here] Tim is a sleeping cat and the law is: you can't move.

[Here] Heartbroken Danny leaves Dick Grayson with a table full of cold anniversary dinner.

[Here] Tim beefs with Superman.

[Here] Triplet Tim

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 2

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 3

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4

[Here] Triplet Tim Pt. 4.5

[Here] The Trio escapes Amity via train

[Here] Dick Grayson plays dumb... a bit too dumb

[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- Too many beds (dcxdp)

[Here] Reverse Trope Prompt- accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss (dcxdp)

Thoughts about DC/DP:

[Here] Richard Grayson's successful image change

[Here] DC vs. The Fan Ability of Saying "No"

[Here] Jason's Pit Madness

[Here] Gotham's City Planners

[Here] Jason and Cass discusses their kill/no kill policies and comes to an understanding about each other.

[Here] Danny can be a twink OR he could be buff as hell.

[Here] DC Canon is soup.

[Here] Damian's relationship with art throughout his short life.

[Here] Ra’s could have revolutionized the medical field but decided to be a creep and clone a minor

[Here] Tim Drake is that troll from Trolls the movies, Branch

[Here] Butter Sock

[Here] Gotham city��s unanimous agreement not to fish dead bodies out of the bay

[Here] Danny in Hogwarts.

[Here] Reincarnation Manhwa + the Bats

[Here] The Bats, Supernatural AU

[Here] Jason's sick fic

[Here] Damian is lost in Amity Park

[Here] Tim, Danny, and floating down a river in a wine barrel

[Here] Reincarnated into Damian Wayne's older sister.

#AU list #masterlist #pls read #I apparently have too many brain worms #tbh I didn't think it was this bad #dcxdp #tim drake #jason todd #batman #batfam #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #nightwing #batfamily #red robin #damian wayne #red hood #danny phantom #phantom #danielle phantom

[coloredsnowo]

My brucie wayne au is just the no capes AU except. the batkids are still superheros. just bruce isn’t.

But yknow. Lets step this up. I think Itd be so fun if Clark was still superman. And Bruce also doesnt know his secret identity.

Bruce: Kids, I want you to meet my boyfriend Clark! He’s a journalist from metropolis.

Dick (having dealt with Bruce’s MANY partners): Erm. Hi. Nice to meet you.

Jason: Ignore him. He’s weird around new people.

Tim: Jason. You literally tried to get scare away of one of Bruce’s ex-girlfriends after watching the parent trap.

Jason: Okay??? Well she was a gold di-

Bruce: Anyways!! There’s my youngest- Damian, and then Cassandra.

Cass ans Damian: *silently nod*

Clark: You’ve got a charming family Bruce!

later that night when the batkids are fighting a rogue, superman decides to come and help.

Sups: Don’t worry! I’m here to help!

Dick (giggling): Omg h-hi superman :DD *knocks out a henchman*

Jason: Ignore him hes weird around new people.

Sups: You really are a charming family….

*group realization*

(part 2)

#batless batfam #bat family #dick grayson #robin #batman #bat fam #batkids #jason todd #dc #bruce wayne #gotham #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #tim drake #clark kent #superbats #superbat #superman #batman x superman #superman x batman #nightwing #red hood #red robin

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ [1, 2] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 12k a/n: new year, new format. sorry for the delay! wrestled w this for a bit.

You believed him, obviously. 

You drank in every malefic word. It’s only the easiest thing in the world to do. Any voice that suggests your wanton attachment was becoming self-destructive died without a fight. You tell yourself that’s impossible–that you couldn’t see your life without him anymore because it was obviously better with him. 

Sure, maybe you had some suspicions about his work, and maybe he could be a tad austere demanding, but that was child’s play compared to anything in the past. 

You let your body curl beside his, savoring every ounce of his cologne in the air. It’s unfamiliar, feeling his bare skin against yours, but you’re thankful for it. The sandman visits quickly this time, sending you sleep as a calloused hand strokes your cheek. 

There’s a beautiful sight awaiting Tony when he wakes the next morning–you, all tangled in silk sheets, warm arms wrapped tight around his midriff. 

Almost every hour it feels like he finds a new beauty in you, another reason you’ll stay on his mind every moment of the day. This time, he’s noticing how breath-taking you look asleep, peaceful and holding him like you’re scared he’ll disappear.

Your form is casked in a shy early morning light as he trails his fingers across exposed skin gently, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing. Tony would pay just about anything for you to see what he saw (which was absolute, unwavering perfection, in case you were still unsure). 

Eventually, the sun rises high enough to illuminate the faint, pale marks on your hip–and only part of him wishes he showed more restraint.

No matter how much he wanted to take things slow with you, bring you in little by little, he needed your trust–your loyalty–so much more. He’d never cared much for delicacy when it came to love or attraction, especially not after Pepper. After all the bullshit with her, he wanted every living thing to feel the same desolate anger that fused in his bones. Scorched earth seemed too gentle of a policy. 

It’s easy to say the end of their relationship came the second he found out, that all his feelings faded into nothingness and no further harm was done. It’s easy to pretend like he’s always been this way–this sharp-edged, arrogant man who commands loyalty and respect. It’s infinitely more difficult to acknowledge that his love for Pepper went away more like a kidney stone than a dying light. 

That hot-headed arrogance, the one that soared at your proclivity for mistrust, or hints of leaving, that had been around for ages. The arrogance and fear of losing what he valued most burrowed together, growing slowly over the years into an obsessive need for control. It had laid dormant, waiting for that strawberry blonde catalyst. 

The faint patches on your skin gave him a sense of satisfaction–you were his, and he tried to know that that would never change now. He realizes all his calculated moves probably weren’t needed, that he could’ve been more of himself with you sooner. Tony’s anger let him run clean over any worries that you’d leave at the first signs of his true colors. He really wanted to be the kind of man that was all sugar and no spice, but someone ruined that for you a long time ago.

Certainly, it at least wasn’t what you needed. Tony knew what you didn’t, that you could have any man you wanted. You could have chosen some run-of-the-mill, 9-to-5 guy. One who buys you flowers once a month while you live your own boring life with a dead end job, but you chose him for a reason.

You didn’t need coddling, just a bit of control–direction. All the worry he had about the ink in his life staining you could go away. Sleeping beside him, you looked just as pure and innocent as ever, dreaming peacefully. Hiding his life from you is exactly what led to last night’s events anyway. He made a mental declaration to be less conservative with himself, to give you exactly what you claimed to want (him–entirely and unconditionally). 

He feels bad for past-him, who had to wait all those months to hear you cry out his name, to feel how easily your body submitted to him. Truthfully, you weren’t resisting him enough to justify the tight hold he kept, but every movement of your body needed to be his doing. 

Maybe he should have just ripped off the bandaid sooner. You didn’t need things as fickle as slowness and patience, you needed to know where you belong–right here beside him, blissful and wearing the marks of his obsession. 

Every fiber in his being hated doing it, but Tony pulls out of your sleepened embrace. The sudden loss of your warmth is almost physically painful, but he manages to rise from the bed. Your face scrunches slightly, sheets dragging to accommodate your shifting frame. 

He contemplates waking you, if anything just to make sure your thoughts aren’t still set on leaving him. Tony’s not a betting man, but he takes the look on your face after coming to his room as a positive sign. Besides, he doesn't like the idea of waking you this early when you need rest more than anything. 

There’s money waiting to be made, but he won’t deprive himself of this phenomenal view to do it. A rosewood table identical to the one in your room is moved closer to the bedside, right where he can keep you in his line of sight. 

That’s exactly where you find him when you wake, hours later–already dressed in a black polo and dark pants, peering over his laptop. It’s a heavy knock on the door that stirs you, causing Tony to swear when he sees your eyes open. 

The papers scattered about the table are shoved into a folder as he checks his watch and swears again. You’re almost too groggy to process voices at the door, turning just in time to see a wooden box transferred into Tony’s hands before the door shuts as quickly as it opened.

An apology is already spewing when he turns to you. 

“You’re fine, it’s fine,” you waved your hand, starting to sit up. 

You swing your legs over the edge, yawning and trying to think the last bit of sleep away. You might’ve forgotten about last night for a tiny longer had you stayed down. You feel the tenderness of your body before seeing it. Tony notices the subtle twitch of your brow, waiting for your reaction to worsen as he tucks the box into a leather duffel on the floor.

“We should leave in a few hours.”

There’s a flatness in his tone that pulls a puzzled look from you. He puts more papers away, now not even sparing a glance your way. It’s not out of contempt, just the last remnants of fear about you leaving. He had nothing but confidence when you were asleep–obviously feeling safe and enamored enough to lie beside him.

Now though, Tony’s forced to think ahead in time, trying to plan responses to questions and arguments you haven’t even made. 

Maybe all Pepper did was make him insecure. (He’d never admit such a thing, though)

“What was that about?” you asked gently, even though you were genuinely trying not to wonder.

“Just work.” He strides back around the bed, planting a kiss to your forehead. 

You manage not to pry, or give much of a reaction at all, simply smiling and still trying to stretch the weariness from your body. Your quiet demeanor comes from your own internal battle about his mood, nothing more. Tony though, for all his talents, sadly isn’t a mind reader. What he is however, is sure it’s his own fault.

Tony lets out a huff when he remembers he decided to be less withholding. You’re confused until the wooden box is brought back out. The bed makes a depressing noise under Tony’s weight as he sits across from you.

He can’t stand the apprehensive look in your eye, and figures there’s no time like the present.

“You wanna ask what’s in the box, don’t you, doll?” He says smugly, tapping the container against your knee lightly. 

Trick questions aren’t really his style, but you don’t think there’s a right answer. 

Tony’s expectations seemed to grow more complex the longer you were with him, and right now, you’re not certain what’s expected of you. The last ten hours in your mind was a feature film, full of depressing internal monologue about how little you really knew about him. 

You know you should trust Tony’s words over the whispers of others, but they’re hard to separate when both sources are drenched in ambiguity. 

“Look, I,” he pauses to sigh heavily, looking away from you for a moment. “I was completely open with Pepper–full transparency, no secrets, the whole nine yards.”

Vulnerability in any form was without a doubt his least favorite thing, especially with this. It almost petrifies him that you’ll see him differently. Mostly because he doesn’t know what he’d do if you really did leave. Somewhere, swimming in back of his brain is the idea that you’ll pull the same stunt she did. That train of thought always leads him down dark roads he’d prefer to ignore. 

“I guess I was a little too open because I woke up one day and suddenly everything’s gone to shit.” 

Tony’s phone rings, and for the first time ever, you see it declined without a second glance

“I cannot have that happen with you. You can ask me anything, if you can promise me you won’t leave if you don’t like the answer. If you can’t do that, you should go.” he ends coldly, and it sends a shiver through your frame.

You wouldn’t–whether he told you the truth or not. So, naturally, you nod in agreement.

A visible wave of relief rushes through him with a sigh.

“Okay, go ahead, shoot.” 

What Tony’s expecting is questions about his work, about Pepper, maybe about Steve. The preparation for those questions is immaculate, answer trees with presumed added points of inquiry. Instead, you ask something he feels moronic for not planning for sooner. 

“What are we doing here? With us? And don’t say it’s up to me.” You don’t ask how you normally do, with a hint of snide or taste of anger. It just comes like a whisper. 

Stark sucks at very, very few things, but this is certainly one of them. Words never seem to do him justice. How he feels, what he wants to say, and what he ends up saying, never quite align. Hence why he much prefers action to rhetoric (hence why last night didn’t end in the screaming matches you might be used to from others). 

Tragically for Tony, you’ve got that damned candied look on your face again that he absolutely cannot stand disappointing, even if you don’t know it. 

Still, he takes a beat too long to formulate a response, so you continue. 

“I mean, what are you telling all these other people who think you’re still married?”

“I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my life, doll.” he says a touch too sternly, without meaning to. 

He continues before your face can turn too sour, placing an apologetic hand atop yours and sighing.

“Truthfully? No one asks, it's–I think everyone’s able to put two and two together with Pepper gone. If they did, I’d say you were my girlfriend, maybe partner. But honestly, that feels a little inaccurate.” 

“Inaccurate how?” you ask tentatively, hoping it wasn’t somehow less than that.

“Underwhelming.” Tony smiles and laughs a bit, making your face warm. 

“Promise me that you won’t change your mind about me.” he continues exasperatedly, half joking. 

For once, you can read the emotions on his face clearly–it’s obviously not a world of fun for him to say any of this, and you know it’s the closest you’re getting to an apology (and a direct answer). 

“I won’t, I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend the metaphorical contract you’ve just signed, more permanent than any marriage certificate in his eyes. 

For your sake, Tony hopes you aren’t the type to break promises.

-

It’s early in the day once you return to New York, and while you managed to stay awake on the flight, your eyelids shut the moment Tony closes the car door. 

You realize you must have nodded off when you open your eyes to the familiar cluttered horizon. As the buildings come into sharper focus, you also realize that the car is completely stationary right outside your apartment. 

You shift in the leather seat, turning to see Tony tapping at his phone screen. A wide grin spreads as he catches your eye. 

“How long have we been here?” you yawn.

“About an hour.” Tony mutters absently, brow furrowed at whatever his phone displayed. 

“You could’ve woke me, you know.” You felt a teeny bit guilty for keeping him when he definitely had better things to do. You shake the soreness from your body, slipping your shoes back on your feet and gathering the items you had spread throughout the car.

“You looked tired,” he says dismissively, pocketing his phone and turning the car back on. “and I don’t mind.” 

The apology you want to give is interrupted with the painful reminder that you still have a shift at the bar tonight. Tony watches the realization wash over you, laughing as you dramatically groan and toss your head back. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Wish I could go back in time and tell Alicia hell no on closing tonight–” 

“Uh-uh, nope, you’re not allowed to complain.” he interjects, shaking his head comically. 

“Why not?” you laugh hesitantly, already guessing what the answer would be.

“Honey, it’s almost physically painful watching you waste your time there knowing I can take care of everything for you.”

Was this the first time Tony indirectly suggested you quit working? Not in the slightest. Lately, a week could hardly pass without even a small mention. In theory, it sounded lovely to you ( as someone who never planned on staying a bartender this long but had no other goals to stand on). Reality bore different fruit that told you independence was probably better.

So, as you’ve done before, that’s exactly what you tell him. You liked making your own money. It causes the billionaire to chuckle as if you’ve told the funniest story ever, making you feel like a paranoid freak.

“No one said anything about taking away your independence.” he chuckles, turning the key. “If making cocktails makes you happy, go for it, but I would at least make sure it’s a nicer location–with bottles worth drinking.”

“I don’t recall you having any issue drinking all those cheap cocktails.”

“I’d drink anything if you were the one serving them.”

You have to try hard not to swoon at his words, watching him leave the car and pop the trunk before you can say anything else. You follow before long, standing to the side as he moves your bags from the car to the sidewalk. 

“It’s just hard–what I want to do isn’t really a money maker. People don’t get into art for the paycheck.”

He laughs again, and you’re starting to find it very infectious. 

“Maybe I’ll single-handedly revive the field of patronage. Pay you to build whatever kind of gallery you want, if you let me keep a few.”

With a wink, the bags are carried by Tony to the front door, where he gives you a long, slow kiss that leaves your head spinning. Something leaves his lips about taking you to breakfast in a few days, but you’re too charmed to hear it. 

All in all, you do end up working a lot less. Mostly because you don’t need to. Over the next month or two, Tony manages to persuade you to get what he wants. Okay, so it was less persuasion and more necessity. 

Two weeks after your trip, your roommate gets a job offer out-of-state and moves out faster than you can make up the difference in tips. Originally, you weren’t going to mention it in the slightest. Plan A was to beg your landlord for more time, and plan B was to write a bad check and hope you had enough by the time he tried to cash it. 

For weeks straight you worked non-stop doubles to try and close the gap. You were making progress, but steadily wearing yourself down to a dull nub. By the end of it, you were beyond burnt out and completely forgot that Tony knew nothing about it. You fucked up by inviting him over one night, not realizing that the sudden absence of half of everything inside would tip him off (that and the deep bags under your eyes).

Immediately, he asked how on earth you were still paying rent this month, and absolutely despised your answer. Tony had never been shy in telling you how wasted your talents were, and this night was no exception. Especially considering you hadn’t still made enough and planned on working another double tomorrow.

You had little energy or reason to argue with him about it. 

Now, you assumed it was a one time thing, just to help you get re-stabilized, maybe find another roommate. Neither really panned out. Every hit on Craigslist gave serial murderer vibes, and tips were starting to trickle as summer ended. The following month, you walked down to the leasing office, last month’s check in hand, only to be told it was taken care of. 

Do you think the bitchy lady at the front desk answered you when you asked how that was possible, or do you think she ignored you and called out next in line? 

It’s the latter, leaving you forced to call Tony and find out from him. You wouldn’t let yourself trust him, so it’s only right he does it for you. Tony always gets what he wants one way or another after all, causing the same story to be told next month, and the following, and every month after for the foreseeable.

You can’t say he isn’t right, though. Less shifts just means more free time to do all the things you’ve put off for the last five years. And so, your life changes once more. All the paintings, books, and movies that sat abandoned finally get some well-deserved attention. You fall into a mellow routine: spending your mornings ahead of a new blank canvas and afternoons buried inside forgotten novels.

An odd shift is picked up here and there, the appropriate amount to stay on staff and keep some semblance of a normal routine, but not consume your life. You adapt surprisingly well, skipping that awkward stage of persistent guilt for having someone else handle your bills. It’s especially effortless when your now empty evenings are filled by Tony. It becomes easier to relax around him, oddly enough. You never thought that time would come, anticipating a lifetime of tiptoeing or a fiery end.

Funny, it feels like only yesterday when you were reeling at him buying a simple dress.

Between spending more time with Tony and less time working, you see more of what the city has to offer. The heightened level of status that dating Tony Stark brings unlocks a plethora of galleries, restaurants, and events you’d only dreamed of attending. Co-existing with the brazen personalities of the 1% could still be a pain, but now you know how to smile and pretend when it counts.

You even have the temerity to attend some alone. It’s much more fun with Tony, though. Your evenings almost always end inside your apartment, staying up and keeping Tony far later than you should. He rarely minds, often halfheartedly leaving to handle some issue or another. If your luck is high enough, no one needs Tony Stark, leaving him to occupy his time with his favorite person. 

If you’re even luckier (or simply brave enough to ask) he’ll slide a taunting finger behind whatever teasing skirt or shorts you’ve chosen (specially to incite this reaction), whisper in your ear how perfect you taste and make your eyes roll. You’ve tried to reciprocate–an embarrassing number of times. Short of actually ripping his clothes off, you don’t know how else to get the message across. 

Tony only takes your attempts as a sign that he’s succeeding at keeping your mind elsewhere. 

During one of these late-nights, he’s working on doing just that when he notices you’re distracted for other reasons. He’s standing behind you in your dim bedroom, slowly working the zipper of your dress down as he trails the soft revealed skin with heavy kisses. Normally, you’d be panting, pressing against him trying for any bit of friction. Instead, he can see your tightly wound brows, the glossy flesh of your bottom lip jutting between two front teeth, thinking far too hard for how good this felt. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” he hums lightly, turning you by your waist as the dark fabric pools at the floor. 

Tony doesn’t still his lips at all, leaving tender marks down your neck and chest. The good news is it gets your breath choked and heavy just how he likes it. Unfortunately, your half-presence remains. He stops right before the airy lace of your bra begins, causing you to catch his eye. 

“How come you’ve only taken me to the tower once?�� 

You don’t have a set event that prompted this question. The realization only dawned on you today. You’ve been dating one of the richest men on the planet for the better end of a year, and he’s taken you to his home a grand total of one time. Your brain is good at forgetting that night most days, but today you can’t shake it. It feels almost karmic to bring up bad memories, as if just speaking about it will bring it back into existence. 

He laughs a bit when your issue proves so elementary. 

“Seriously,” you stress, even though your voice wavers with the arousal he’s building. “We’ve been together all this time and I’ve never really seen where you live.”

“Promise you aren’t missing much.” Tony smiles, capturing your lips and guiding you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

“It’s only one of the largest companies in the world. Guess seeing the inside once is pretty lucky.” you sigh, feigning a dramatically sad tone. 

You’re really trying to guilt him, making a purposeful effort not to soak into the heat of his touch. Hot hands snake up your thighs, thumbs brushing small circles into the inner skin. He dips below you as you sit, still humming his way up your legs with butterfly kisses. 

“Might have been followed, couldn’t risk taking you home.” he mutters, preoccupied. 

It’s not his fault you look too good to argue with right now (which you knew and were definitely using to your advantage). The dress you wore tonight might as well have been see-through– it hugged you like cellophane, and he made a mental note to buy you more in the same material. 

While Tony’s busy leaving more hickeys on your thighs, a shiver runs through you. What would have happened had someone followed Tony’s car? 

Your mind goes to work crafting all types of theories, and Tony recognizes the look plain as day. He stops with a stout sigh, leaning back on his heels. It pulls your attention back to him, looking down at him with uneasy eyes.

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know.” 

Even if you’re not entirely sure what you need protecting from.

“Good, now do me a favor and lie back.”

You do as you're told, of course, more than enthusiastically. 

Balance is important after all, though. So, while Tony gets what he wants now (as he usually does), he indulges you as well.

You made an off-hand comment about never actually seeing a broadway show in person, despite living in New York for literal years. Tony finds any missed luxury in your life unacceptable and naturally drops a small fortune to orchestrate a private show. While buying out the theater was partially for the romance, it would have also been too much exposure for him otherwise. 

Afterwards, he makes a very notable detour from your usual route home, pulling you away from your long ramble about how awe-striking the show was. Asking just gets you a cheeky smile and turns your attention towards the tower. 

You get the full tour that you weren’t afforded the first time (given the circumstances). The lobby you recall, with its marble floors and high ceiling. It’s well in the evening, leaving the tower empty minus a few guards and late-night staff. 

You regret never paying attention in science when Tony guides you through the labs and workshops. 

As you pass through room after room, each unnerves you. Most things of the scientific nature are lost on you, but you’re certain the high amount vials and chemicals you see would floor even Einstein. 

You can’t place why they unsettle you, looking so out of place and painfully high-tech in stereotypical white walls. It also doesn’t help that Tony spiels about the building and not what lies on the tables three feet away.

You swallow your questions, fearing that the answer to be even remotely similar to the one that drove Pepper away. 

Tony mentions having dinner upstairs, to which you smile and follow him into an adjacent elevator before you can stress yourself out further.

The doors open to a penthouse apartment that you don’t remember walking through before (definitely too caught up in thinking you were about to be dumped over a drunken mistake). You obviously expected Tony to live in the same luxury he exudes, but the decor and imported wood reminded you just how wealthy he was. He leads you to his office, tucked behind a frosted glass door that you do remember from last time. 

“This,” he starts, swiping a small card against the door’s thin black reader with a quiet beep, “is where the magic happens, but it is off-limits without my permission.”

You give an understanding nod when he turns back, although you wanted to laugh at how quickly he switched from sounding like a complete nerd to stony-faced. Tony leaves the door open once you enter, tucking the card back into the pockets of his slacks. 

You are naturally more curious than most (for better or for worse), and make quick work walking around the vast space, eyeing each shelf, table, and weird gadget. A pair of soft couches mirror one another in the center of the room, surrounding a cluttered coffee table of notes and books. A whiteboard stands nearby, covered in what’s probably math but could pass for ancient Greek. Every inch of the walls is lined with something–be it awards and diplomas or more books with words you’re convinced are made up. It strikes you then that the office lacks any windows, and you wonder if that’s by design or sheer chance. 

At the back wall shines various lights and screens, below it a thin, large clear desk where Tony sits. The desk holds more of the odd, transparent screens, which Tony closes with the swipe of his hand as you approach. A compliment of some capacity about the decor is brewing when you notice the picture frame sitting nearby. Two figures pose in front of a row of trees, one clearly Tony, and the other a young man, with dusty brown hair and pristine in dark blue graduation robes. Tony’s arm wraps around the younger, smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen. The young man holds a slender booklet and a matching smile.

Predicting this, he answers the question before you figure out how to ask it. 

“That’s Harley–don’t start getting any ideas, he’s not Pepper’s.” he says, pulling you by the waist into his lap. 

“Is he your nephew or something?” you question, resting your head against the velvety fabric of his shirt.

“Howard Stark was a man of one child, to his disappointment, so no. Harley’s a family friend.” 

“You just run around befriending random college kids?” you joke, dangling your legs over the edge of the chair.

“If I’m feeling generous enough.” 

In the corner of your eye, you see a figure appear across the room in the empty door frame. A tall, older man waits–hands clasped behind his back in black pants and pressed white button up.

“Mr. Stark, there’s a visitor for you.” 

He speaks as quickly as he appears, with an unexpectedly posh accent. Tony taps your knee, and you leave his lap very begrudgingly and watch with even more unnecessary sorrow as he exits the room. A promise is given about returning soon, but you know better than to believe that.

A word is exchanged between the two that you can’t hear across the large office. When Tony’s figure leaves, the other man enters. You notice his blue eyes as he comes closer, deciding to take a seat on one of the couches.

“Mr. Stark has requested I quote–keep you from dying of boredom–in his absence.” he says, standing at the head of the couch across from you. 

“Has he now?” you laugh lightly. 

The thing they don’t tell you about rich boyfriends? It takes time to make all that money, keeping them busy and away from their easily bored girlfriends. So, you nod when the man smiles, making a permissive motion towards the seat. 

“My name is Jarvis, I work for Mr. Stark.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m [y/n]”

“You need very little introduction, ma’am. Mr. Stark has talked a great deal about you over these last several months.” he laughs, crossing his legs.

“Really?” you ask. It’s not extremely surprising, you just assumed Tony was perpetually occupied talking about other things. He did make a good move though, Jarvis is much more pleasant company than he usually keeps. 

“Indeed, he’s quite fond of you.”

You aren’t used to hearing this–from anyone really. Everyone you know has no idea Tony exists (for better or for worse) and everyone he knows seemingly despises you. It’s a breath of fresh air that does wonders for your insecurities about this whole relationship. Not a complete cure, but the start to some form of remedy..

“And what do you do for Tony?” you ask, not wanting to be rude and keep the conversation entirely on yourself. 

He ponders this for a moment, giving you the impression he’s never had to explain this before. 

“I assist Mr. Stark in his day-to-day activities, so that he may devote more energy towards the company.” 

What was with this calculated nature everyone around him seemed to take on? Still, Jarvis appeared to be a beacon of kindness (the accent might be biasing you). It’s bright enough to tempt you to ask Jarvis what you were too hesitant to ask Tony, mostly out of trepidation over the answer. 

“I have to admit I’m a pretty terrible girlfriend–I don’t even know what Tony does.” you sigh and pout slightly. 

Naivete was an old trick you didn’t mind pulling out of the bag now and again. 

Jarvis chuckles, an optimistic sign that your tactics are working.

“Stark Industries is a manufacturing and research company that specializes in pharmaceuticals and biotech.” 

Now that line sounds more rehearsed. More accurately, it’s strikingly similar to the first line that pops up when anyone searches up Stark Industries. 

“Doesn’t sound much to me like a merchant of death.” 

You might have been better off forgetting Steve’s words, but it’s all you can think of when you picture what lives in the labs just below you. As much as you wanted to play out the rest of your life with Tony in blissful ignorance, you were constantly exposed to things that made you question if it really was bliss. 

You expected maybe a twitch of the brow from Jarvis, the face trying to compensate for what the mind already knows. Instead, Jarvis’ mouth turns downward, cocking his head in confusion at the moniker.

“Where did you hear that?” 

Before you can answer, Tony’s voice bounces down the hallway. In the next second, he’s back in the office, and Jarvis is standing. You’re disappointed (and shocked) that Tony didn’t take as long as usual, having to cut the conversation short. 

The older man shoots you a curious glance as he leaves—an unspoken reassurance that he does indeed expect an answer at a later point. 

“Everything okay, doll?”

Tony asks, because you're too busy thinking to mind your face, and it looks troubled. You shake it off though, smiling and taking the hand he holds out. 

The two of you have that dinner, though the entire evening you catch weathered blue eyes watching you from afar. 

Remember that thing about rich boyfriends and their busy jobs? Yeah, that becomes a pain quickly. You could handle the phone calls on dates or distracted answers while an email is answered no problem. But once Tony brought you to the tower, he didn’t see a reason to keep you away anymore. You happily started spending most of your nights there. You just didn’t fully process the implications of Tony living where you work. Most days he manages to spare an hour here and there, interrupted by phone calls and meetings. So, often you roam around, trying to not wonder just what your boyfriend has to do to earn all that money. 

You pick up on a lot of little things about his life from pure close-hand observation. The Tony you know is sweet and passionate. Tony working is almost an entirely different breed. You thank god that you’re just dating him and not working for him. The sternness  he tended to use with you wasn’t exclusive, but dialed to an eleven when he came to his work.

The most jarring, however, is the constant presence of armed guards at the Tower, even in Tony’s penthouse. You think back to every date so far, scanning memories for shady figures waiting by exposed exits. A few potentials stand out, but you can’t be certain your memories aren’t being falsified by present events. 

One morning, you pass one of the men on your way to the kitchen. It’s an early morning, at least for you, coming down the stairs as he pours a cup of coffee. It strikes you, since they normally keep near the elevator and you’ve never seen them do anything except stand around. 

The bald man nods towards you, and out of nothing more than courtesy and habit, you nod back. He retreats to his post without another word soon after. 

Despite the early hour, Tony’s already risen before you and is likely tucked away somewhere working. Peace is a valued comfort, of course, but the tower gave you an overwhelming sense of emptiness without Tony around.

Any mess you leave is miraculously cleaned (you learn this is Jarvis’ doing), and most of the tower is off-limits for you. Still, you enjoy being relatively closer to Tony than you were most days, so hanging around isn’t too much of a burden. 

That morning proves fruitful as well, as you get to speak to Jarvis again. That’s not to say you haven’t seen him. In fact, he’s almost always somewhere nearby. The issue being that it’s normally coupled by Tony or other parties. This time, he’s alone. 

You’d entered the kitchen that morning in a determined search for caffeine, planning to spend your day shopping for something new to wear for a gala that’s a ways away. It’s a much calmer experience without crowds, so you got an early start.

Jarvis enters soon after the guard leaves, setting fresh kitchen towels onto the island. 

“Morning, ma’am.” he says, opening a cabinet across from you. 

You laugh lightly, finding it odd that a man old enough to be your father would waste such honorifics on you. You inform Jarvis of such, to which he gives a chuckle of his own.

“It’s simply out of respect and the nature of my work, nothing more.” he explains, delicately laying each towel in the small space. 

“You don’t find it weird calling people younger than you sir and ma’am?” 

It’s a pretty genuine question, having never been in such a role yourself. The cabinet is shut with a soft thud as Jarvis turns towards you. 

“I do not.” 

He goes for the recently emptied coffee cup beside you, refilling it before you can tell him that’s not necessary. 

“Might I inquire to you about something?” he questions, handing you the warm mug.

You were expecting a continuation of your earlier conversation. You had prepared questions of your own, of course. Mostly about Steve, and definitely a few about Pepper. A nod of agreement leaves you as the warm liquid slides down your throat.

“Do you not find it–strange, romantically involving yourself with someone so much older than you?” 

The raise of his brow tells you he is similarly being genuine. This floors you though. Ironically, that was one of your main reasons for rejecting Tony all those months ago. But lately? You barely even thought about it. You’d stopped paying attention to the odd snide comments and the occasional bizarre look. Really, the fact only comes back to you when Jarvis mentions it. Come to think of it, you can’t recall Tony ever bringing attention to it either. 

“I don’t really notice the little jokes and weird looks anymore, so no, not at all.” you shrug, taking another sip.

“I mean no disrespect, simply curious.” he laments.

“None taken, don’t worry.”

“Might I also ask then,” he pauses, testing out the words in his mouth first and waiting for your approval. “–how your family’s temperament is towards Mr. Stark?”

“My parents died when I was really young, and they were both only childs, so I’m gonna say it’s pretty neutral.” 

Jarvis goes a tinge red at this, immediately apologizing as if it was somehow his fault. You can’t help but laugh at the contrite attitude. He stops once he sees the grin on your face, breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn’t seriously offended you.

“You’re fine, really, I’m surprised Tony never mentioned it to you.”

“Mr. Stark is typically a private man, and I doubt he would share such information with anyone without your permission.” 

“Yeah, that can be– annoying.” you sigh.

“I understand, naturally is,” Jarvis nods towards you, walking past you to exit before halting. “Employ a bit of patience, if you can. Mr. Stark’s stress is greatly alleviated with your continued presence.” 

If his behavior now was relaxed, you didn’t want to imagine how he was prior. 

That afternoon, you returned to the tower, spoils in tow (and paid for with Tony’s matte black card). Despite the time, there wasn’t a sign of Tony anywhere. Most of the lights were off when you entered, causing you to pull out your phone flashlight like some kind of horror movie. You made your way through the penthouse, flipping switches and checking rooms. 

Kitchen, empty. Office, empty. Gym, empty.

Your voice bounced through the hall as you climbed the stairs, calling out Tony’s name. Disappointedly, you were only met by silence. Out of the last forty-eight hours, a grand sum of eight of them you shared with him. One out every six hours (and most of those you were asleep). The recurrent solitude made an evening in your own home suddenly sound much more favorable. 

You traipse into the bedroom, tossing the gown that you were very excited to show Tony into one of the massive closets. The random handful of items you had scattered around the room are thrown into your bag. Some you leave in their place–you knew you wouldn’t be away long. A bright light shines in your face when you fumble with your phone, reminding you to turn it off. It also gives you the literal lightbulb idea to text Tony.

[ heading home for the night, call me when ur free ]

In the still quiet of the penthouse, a beep reverberates behind you. Puzzled, you turn, noticing the golden light trickling from under the bathroom door. 

“Tony?” you call out again, crossing the room towards the door. 

On the other side, water runs for a moment, followed by the click of the lock as the door opens. 

“Hey, honey.” he drawls, walking out with a sniffle. 

“You okay?” you ask tentatively. “It was like, pitch dark in here.”

He pulls you into a welcomed embrace, wrapping large arms around your body tightly.

“I’m fine, they’re just timed. Gotta be eco-friendly, right?” 

Tony punctuates his sentence with a kiss on your forehead. You stay in his embrace as long as possible, resting your head against his chest. His heart thumps heavily, beating like a rabbit through the soft cotton of his shirt. 

Eventually, the embrace has to end, mostly so that Tony can plead to you to stay another night. He promises that he’s yours for the evening, and given that this was what you preferred anyway, you oblige. 

First though, Tony has a surprise. One that he swears will make the tower feel more comfortable for you. His surprises are typically rather ornate or sickeningly expensive. This one, however, is moderately less materialistic than usual.

Down the hall from the frosted door of Tony’s office is a room that you were initially told was off-limits. As you reach the end of the hall, Tony explains he needed just a little more time for some ‘finishing touches’. 

Another keycard is produced from his pocket, swiping on a reader much similar to the one in his office. When it beeps in response, the card is planted firmly in your hands. 

“Go ahead, check it out.” he grins, motioning towards the door. 

Tentatively, you enter the previously inaccessible space. Once inside, your jaw nearly drops. It’s not a large space, but it takes a while for you to process everything within. 

Shelves stand tall with various jars and tubes of paint, elegant brushes and canvases of every size. Tables sit near pristine walls, freshly painted and holding any medium you could possibly want. The walls are bare, save for the antique painting hanging by the window. You recognize it instantly, not believing your eyes at first. Tony doesn’t need to say it for you to know–this was all for you. 

What Tony does feel the need to say is that if everything isn’t to your liking, he can have it changed in a day. He worries as you stand silent, not reacting in explosive joyful glee like he hoped. 

“No, no, it’s perfect.” you swiftly add, turning to him beaming. 

You’re still in awe as relief passes through him as your arms wrapped around him. Somehow, Tony always manages to redefine what you thought you deserved. There’s a painting worth half a million dollars sitting less than 10 feet away, and it was purchased just for you. 

An impressive length, all for a simple smile. How the hell could you ever settle for anything less from anyone else? 

Sure, you don’t realize this is a purposeful gift to encourage you to stay around the tower more, and the knowledge wouldn’t change anything anyway. 

After you thank him excessively for the next ten minutes (to which Tony’s response can mostly be summed up as ‘has literally no one done anything nice for you? ever?’), the dress you bought earlier comes to mind. Tony thought you learned by now that he’d buy you the world if it was for sale, but indulges in your feverish gratitude for the time being.

You do the leading this time, back into the bedroom where he waits on the black duvet for you to change. It’s a magical feat that you manage to get it zipped up alone. Stubbornness also plays its own role. 

When you reemerge, it’s Tony’s turn to be rendered speechless. A sleeveless auburn number wraps your body, cinching at your waist and following to the floor. Cut-outs show off your midriff, letting the cool air cover your skin. The high level of regality is new to you, but you weren’t risking the embarrassment of being underdressed a second time. It’s also Tony’s favorite color to see you in (which you totally didn’t know and totally weren’t exploiting for this very purpose). 

“Well?” you start, give a small twirl. “What do you think?”

There was a worry that he might find it too much. Another thing you picked up on over the last few weeks was Tony’s subtle disdain for clothing he found tacky or too revealing. You hadn’t managed to hit that threshold so far, and knew it better to avoid.

“As amazing as you look, I think you need to take that off before I end up ripping it to pieces.” he responds, voice low and hungry. 

Solace finds you, pleased that you didn’t make a wrong choice. It’s brief though, because a second glance at Tony reveals that while he liked the choice, (almost too much, really) he also wasn’t joking in the slightest. 

A raise of an eyebrow says it all–don’t make me repeat myself. 

So, under his fervent commands, you wind up pinned below him, dress long discarded on the plush carpeted floors as his fingers curl inside of you. A hand keeps your wrists pinned tightly above your head, keeping you at his mercy. If you could call his unrelenting fingers mercy.

You quickly grow more frustrated than ever at the barrier of clothing on his body. It’s always goddamned there, holding back the warmth you can feel radiating through. His restraint prevents you from taking the friction you need. You’re further burdened by the teeth grazing your neck, sucking slow and teasingly on your pulse point. All the man had to do most days to turn you into a needy mess was kiss you, but after so many busy days, this was sweet torture. 

Tony knew it too. The increasing pitch in your whine was music to his ears. It’s not before it’s broken and whimpery, your excitement coating his fingers. Every movement was overwhelming, and yet still managed to leave you desperate for more. 

“Please, Tony, fuck-” you plead, interrupted by your own moan when he curves his fingers again. 

“Aw, do you need something, darling?” he whispers, moving away from your neck. “I know I taught you better than that–use your words, pretty girl.”

This isn't an uncommon taunt of his, loving the embarrassed shy look that crawls over your face each time. He’s pleasantly surprised tonight, however, as you just about had it enough to give in. The award for longest time to make someone wait under they verbally beg for you to fuck them goes to Anthony Edward Stark, with an impressive record of eight months.

Your brows furrow, trying to find your center again to speak with clarity and not falter under his gaze.

“Would you stop being an asshole and just fuck me, please?” you sighed exasperatedly. 

Manners would be something to correct later. For now, Tony’s happy to focus on rewarding your needy pleas. 

Your wrists are granted all too short reprieve, as he takes little time undressing, climbing back on top of you and attacking your neck with hard, bruising kisses. The hard member you’re used to having constrained by high-end slacks feels larger pressed bare against your folds–hot and heavy as he returns a hand to your wrists.

His free hand aligns him at your entrance, stopping when he notices your tightly shut eyes. Now that simply won’t do.

“Open those pretty eyes.”

It’s a short and breathy order, the tone earning your instant compliance. Tony’s eyes are dark above you, catching them only for a moment before he swiftly sinks into you (he’ll allow it this time).

 There’s little resistance, as you were already a mess from earlier, but his thick member still stretches your walls. You cry out when he reaches the hilt, snapping his hips into you only to withdraw and fully sink back into you with the same speed. 

Tony gains a new found appreciation for the philosophy behind a reward being sweeter the longer you wait. There’s nothing more delectable in the whole world right now than the fractured moans escaping you, despite your visible attempts to bite them back. As much as he wants to commit this coy little expression of yours to memory, he’s clearly not doing his job if you’re able to hold anything back.

The hands above you let go, gripping your hips instead to thrust deeper into you. It does just what he needs to do, listening to the sweet sounds of your whines as his cock reaches right where you needed to. All this time without h, combined with his fast and hard thrusts has moan after moan falling from your lips. 

Tony can hardly contain himself either, high off the sticky mess you're making. Your neck is perfectly dotted with tender marks from his mouth, only driving his ecstasy further. 

He knows he’s being more than rough, pounding into you relentlessly–you’re just taking him so well, your nails leaving tiny red crescents on his thighs. It drives him wild, possession does go both ways after all. Every erratic breath and tremble of your legs came from him. You were his–who begged for him and moaned his name. 

The fast, rough pace pushes you to your peak not long after, and Tony recognizes the stuttery pitch of your voice. 

“Go ahead, darling.” he whispers into your ear, voice soft and gentle despite how deep he was inside you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist as your core swells with pressure, desperate for him to be impossibly closer than he was. It’s not long after your voice breaks altogether, falling into a slight plea as your walls tighten around him.

The feeling of you losing yourself around him sets off something entirely new in Tony. He’d never miss another chance to make you his like this. A deep groan echoes in the bedroom walls, unsteady hands holding your hips tighter. 

He was absolutely nowhere near done with you. 

Before you can catch your breath, it’s taken as he slams into you with renewed energy. A string of curses leave him when your back arches into him, straining against his hold. 

Your body feels white-hot with pleasure. You were used to Tony pushing you into orgasm after orgasm, alternating between his mouth and fingers until you’re a pile of jelly below him. This was entirely different, hit that spongy spot inside of you over and over as your walls shutter. It leaves your whole form trembling, mind blanking each time he bottoms out.

“Shit, Tony, I can’t,” you whimper.

It’s a broken plea, already feeling your body go taunt a second time. Still, you hope for a bit of reprieve, just enough to bring your mind back to earth. 

“You will for me, darling.” he groaned, voice heavy and breathless, bringing a hand to your hair and exposing your neck to his teeth for another assault. “I know you can take it.”

A shiver runs through you as his latches onto your neck, deciding you could stand to have more marks across your skin. You’re completely lost in the throbbing member splitting you apart, aimlessly grabbing at the soft sheets below you. He leans back, pulling your hips up to keep slamming to you, letting a hand wrap around your throat and press against the fresh mark left there. 

“All mine, aren’t you?” Tony moans above you, close to his own peak. He just needs to feel your body to submit to him one more time.

The tender pain in your throat mixes deliciously next to the sweeping euphoria. You want to answer (mostly because you know he’s expecting one), but all your mind can zone into is how electrified your skin is.

“Aw, is my girl too fucked out to answer me already?” he taunts, even if the sight of you this blinded by pleasure nearly sends him over. 

No one else could ever have you like this, he’d make sure of it. You were past shame over how his words left you, cruel or praiseful. Any utterances that made it known you were his turning your body into melting sugar. 

Tony’s own hips stutter, bucking into you as your peak hits you again, your moan silenced by the tight hand around your throat. He’s close behind you, keeping his rhythm until the shake in your legs lessens. 

He sinks into you, caressing your face and burying himself back into your neck. A long moan floods your ears, feeling him still inside of you and paints every inch of your walls white. Hot, heavy breaths cover your ear as he fills you, not withdrawing until he’s certain you’ve taken every drop. 

You’re an exhausted pile of bones below him, leaving him feeling quite prideful. Stark on the other hand is oddly energetic. He disappears for a moment, returning after putting his boxers back on and grabbing a towel.

He lies beside you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. Soft praises and peppered kisses follow, trailing along your face and shoulders. He tells you over and over how perfect you did, though you're still barely present. 

You’re focused on calming your breathing, so Tony’s praises fall onto distracted ears. You aren’t that distracted, though, as his next words ring through clear as day.

“I love you, doll, you know that?” It’s barely above a whisper, spoken between into the delicate skin of your collarbone.

You turn your head almost instantly, blinking rapidly because surely you didn’t hear that right. The words left him before he knew what he was saying, caught up in the swirl of post-coital bliss. In an unusually empathetic act of vulnerability, he stands by it. The declaration is repeated louder to your stunned face. 

He’s not that vain that he expects an immediate reciprocation–though you eagerly give one anyway. That's all good and well, except he senses concern in your voice.

“That’s just how every guy wants to hear that, thank you.” Tony jokes, propping himself onto his elbow with a grin. 

“That came out wrong, I just,” you chuckle softly, trailing off. “You are being genuine, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks matter-of-factly.

“I guess–be honest, you really don’t mind being with someone like twenty years younger than you?” 

He throws his head back in laughter, and you use the little energy you have to swat at his shoulder. 

“You’ve been talking to Jarvis, haven’t you?

“How the-what do you mean?” you fully turn on your side to face him, more puzzled than before. You also worried you somehow crossed a line discussing Tony with someone else in private.

“Don’t sweat it–Jarvis is more of an old friend than an employee, regardless of whatever the old bat says. He’s just overprotective.” 

“And he was worried about us?”

“More about you, specifically, that you were some covert gold-digger playing the long game for a chance at the Stark inheritance. He didn’t believe that I had to damn near beg on my hands and knees for a simple dinner.” he says indignantly, and you have to roll your eyes.

“What if I was? You don’t know.” 

“Please, no one trying to woo me for my money would start as many arguments with me as you do.” 

“I do not start arguments, if anything you’re the one-” you start to defend yourself, then Stark raises an eyebrow and the sentence dies on your tongue. “Okay, point taken.”

Tony pulls your naked form towards him, your head resting on his chest as your body curls beside his. You’re more than spent, the sound of his heart still racing after all this time doesn’t process under the lure of sleep.

For now, you’re too in love to care. 

-

When you wake, Tony’s absent from your side. This is not unusual in the slightest for any night you spend here, but it's barely four in the morning. 

You scan the dark room momentarily before switching the bedside light on. Groggily (and on sore legs), you rise, tying a short robe around yourself. Thinking of yesterday, you actually check the bathroom this time to find it empty. You ventured out of the bedroom to an empty and pitch black hallway. Deja vu feels like an understatement. 

You start to call out his name just like before, stopping once you see the light flowing from the kitchen downstairs. As you descend, Tony’s voice grows louder. His back comes into view once the final step is crossed, with another figure in front of him. 

Tony swivels slowly when you enter, and you notice the person he’s speaking to is the same young man from the photo. You cross your arms over your body as best you can when you enter the space, suddenly feeling very underdressed for meeting a stranger.

“Sorry, did we wake you?” Tony asks apologetically, to which you shake your head and yawn. 

“Harley, this is [y/n], [y/n], Harley.” he continues.

Harley holds a blue duffel in his right hand, giving you a curt wave with the other. Under the bright kitchen lights, however, he gets a better look at you. You don’t understand why in the moment, still half-asleep, but he makes an unsettled face at you before darting his sharp eyes back to Tony. After which Tony tells you he’ll be up in a moment and you return back to the warmth of the sheets without protest.

It’s not until you step into the bathroom later in the day that you figured out why he looked at you that way. A few tender marks still spotted the left side of your neck and the top of your chest. While not the best first impression, it sends a wave of excitement through you at the sight. A bit of concealer goes a long way after you shower. 

Tony explains that Harley is just stopping by briefly, and that he’ll be leaving after dinner tonight as you get dressed. You obviously spend the entire day worried about it, convinced any further interaction with Harley will be painfully awkward and uncomfortable for you both. 

Unfortunately, you end up wishing things were just awkward. 

Jarvis prepares an excellent meal, and you make it through the first two courses with Harley’s eyes piercing you across the large dining table. It’s not constant, as he manages to dart away each time Tony speaks to him as if he never looked your way. Engaging in conversation becomes troublesome under his gaze (though it’s mostly just Tony asking Harley about some trip he took). You almost start to think you’re imagining it, wondering what the hell his issue could possibly be.

Thankfully, Tony has to excuse himself for a phone call, leaving the two of you alone.

The moment Tony’s out of earshot, Harley leans in, placing his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. 

“Are you even old enough to drink?” he questions dramatically.

“Are you?” 

“Funny.” he snorts, taking a bite of roast potatoes.

He stays quiet for a second as Jarvis clears away empty dishes from the table. 

 “That’s not a yes, though.” he hums in a high pitch.

“If it would get you to stop staring, I’m twenty-six.”

Harley hums in approval, sitting back in his chair. 

“Was that really your problem? You know you could’ve just asked at literally any point in the last hour, or hell, asked Tony.”

“Oh, I did.” he scoffs, shrugging his shoulders. 

Tony returns, taking his seat in the same breath that Harley wipes his mouth and stands. 

“Well, I’ll leave you and your child bride to it.” he declares sarcastically, turning for the exit.

“Excuse me?” 

Tony’s voice stops Harley in his tracks, rising and closing the distance to the young man. You heard worse, but based on the tightness in his jaw you can assume Tony hasn’t.

“Oh, come on. She’s not even four years older than me. What else would you like to call it?” Harley jests, laughing.

“You have a flight to catch, don’t you?” The edge in his tone shocks you, and cuts Harley’s laughter straight away. 

He takes his leave without another comment, but he does give you another overdramatic wave on the way out. You tell Tony what passed between you two in his absence and ask what all that was about, but Tony just shakes his head and apologizes. 

You’re not sure why–it hardly bothered you as much as it did him. 

Later that night you overhear Tony on the phone. You presume it’s with Harley, hearing Tony mention something about ‘showing more respect’ and ‘minding your own business’. You hope it isn’t Harley–even though the kid was an ass, Tony speaks with a ferocity that unnerves you just as the eavesdropper. 

Fall passes by without more pop-up visits from impolite guests. 

While painting will always be one of your first true loves, even the strongest of loves can grow tiring. The technical term is typically referred to as a lack of inspiration. You can’t get a single image out of your brain and onto a canvas. It’s a well deserved burnout though, the rest of the studio space lined with finished paintings. A consistent month and half of work proved quite the endeavor. Most are simple plays with color, though there are a few you came to be very proud of.

Yeah, a break would probably do you some good. 

There’s more than one traditional seat for you to choose from, all extremely lush and definitely better for your back. The floor works a lot better though, so you stand and stretch the soreness from your body. Would you learn your lesson and sit in the chair next time? Nope. 

The evening was growing near, evident by the lemony sky. Your hyperfixation meant a lot more nights indoors, even on the sparse evenings Tony was free. All signs pointed towards taking advantage of what was likely one the last warm nights of the season. 

You wasted little time changing out of your paint covered sweats, throwing on a simple blue skirt and white sweater. 

On your way downstairs to his office, you spot Jarvis in the kitchen preparing a drink you presume is for Tony. 

“Oh, I can take that to him.” you intercept him at the bottom, taking the cold glass in your hands. 

“Very well.” he nods to you, taking in your dressed up state as you walk away, not expecting either of you to leave the tower that night. “Shall I have the car ready for you and Mr. Stark?”

“For me, definitely. Can’t promise anything about him.” you call back to him, increasing your volume as you head further into the hall.

You knock once you reach the glass door, waiting idly until you hear his voice call out come in. Tony doesn’t lift his head when you enter, scrawling away at something atop his desk. You hear him muttering to himself softly, shirt disheveled and unbuttoned. 

You’re certainly not silent as you cross the space. Your heavy boots made a mild thud on the hardwood floor, surely loud enough to get the average person’s attention, you thought. 

Nope, wrong. 

He does know you’re there, however– the screens in front of him are switched off as you approach the desk, head never lifting from the papers.

You wait patiently beside his desk, setting the drink down the corner. His attention doesn’t yield for no less than five minutes after. When he does finally address you, it’s with tired eyes and gleams. 

“My, my, my,” he whistles, guiding you over to straddle his lap. “What a fantastic surprise.”

Tony’s hands can never be idle more than a moment, already snaking them under your skirt to the supple skin of your backside.  He’s much more interested in that than anything you say about leaving the tower. Who could blame him, really. Any red-blooded man would after hours of phone calls and calculations. 

You twitch when he squeezes hungrily, sensitive from the same hands the night prior. He’d nearly forgotten, and the remainder is a good amusement. 

“You know, I could get so much more work done with you just like this.” he hums, lifting your sweater to graze your stomach. 

“You’re welcome to join me.” you point out, linking your arms around his neck. 

“There’s nothing more I want, but I have a few more things to take care of here.”

You figured as much, of course. Knowing that answer was coming doesn’t make it any less disappointing. Conversely, seeing your smile falter for any reason is akin to a tragedy for Tony. 

“How about this, it’s still early– you go out, have fun, I’ll pick you up for dinner later.” he concedes.

That fixes the problem, earning Tony a very satisfied kiss from you. It’s long and heavy, nearly enough to make him consider sending you out on shaky legs, but he resolves to bring that fantasy to life another time.

An hour or so drifts away as you take in the fresh autumn air, window-shopping from store to store. Close to when you're due to meet Tony, you stumble across something you can’t be sure is a really bright bar or a super dark restaurant. As you go for a better look through the towering windows, the doors beside you swing open. 

You spot Steve first, getting a clear view of a reddened cut above his eye. You fail at turning away from the door in time. It was worth a shot, even if he was just five feet away.

“Oh, would you knock it off–I’m not gonna bother you.” he exclaims exasperatedly, a deep slur in his words (so that solves that mystery).

You give a half-hearted surrender with your arms, watching him head for the street corner. Mid-way, he stops, turning back unsteadily.

“You still with Stark?” he questions.

“What’s it to you?”” you scoff, rolling your eyes. This was what you wanted to avoid–annoying people and their annoying judgements.

“Just don’t tell him you saw me, okay. I don’t need more shit with him right now.” 

Remarkably, Steve sounds genuine. Well, as genuine as a drunk man can sound. A grand opportunity presents itself. Someone with a lot more information than you needs something of you. 

“Sure, okay.” you agree, watching a breath leave Steve. “If you can tell me what you meant at the party.”

Steve, having drunk every drop of Kentucky Bourbon on the block, happily obliged your question for the small price of not dealing with Stark. 

If asked to make a list of all the things you guessed Tony was involved in, your brain would assume the best of the worst to ease its conscience. Steve’s answer is, tragically, nowhere on that list. 

You wander around for a bit playing moral adjudicator in your mind. It’s a consuming task, and in your concentration you space completely on the fact that you were expected somewhere. In your bag, your phone buzzes to no answer, muffled in the city’s noisy ambience. 

You have to see for yourself, which makes the tower your destination after you’ve calmed your nerves enough. It’s been ages since you’ve taken the subway anywhere, though you somehow manage to work through the busy platforms. You remember you live in the age of technology, deciding to rely on your phone for navigation. 

Two missed calls and around five unanswered texts from the past half hour await you, all from Tony. You swear to yourself as the train car rocks, hurriedly typing a response. 

[ where are you? ]

[ on the way back now. didn’t feel well. ]

Lying feels like swallowing a bitter seed. You know that ‘s not an answer. You know you’ll have to find some way to explain the missed calls later. Honestly, that might be the harder task than covering a lie. All you hoped was that New York traffic would play in your favor and you could make it back before him. 

The luscious bells of victory are right in your sight as elevator dings! open. Your genius plan to check his office is foiled quickly, the black card reader blinking back at you tauntingly. 

A moment passes where you question your own motivations. Why were you even bothering to let someone else get into your head again? You could ask him anything, so why lie to him when you chose to stay in the dark–

You all but fly up the stairs, striding through Tony’s bedroom and into the bathroom. It takes a while for you to find it, having to scour the numerous cabinets one by one. Your hands touch a rough leather pouch, right under the sink.

You open it tentatively, praying for Steve to be wrong, but your fingers find the small plastic baggie within, and your stomach flips when you know he was telling the truth. 

You don’t have long to process it. The elevator sounds again from below

Shit.

You thought you had more time to craft a better excuse.

“What happened? Everything okay?” 

His voice is stern even if his words are sweet, turning his body towards yours as you enter the kitchen. Your hands reach for a glass to fill with water, needing a distraction to ward off his gaze. 

“Got a little dizzy, took the subway back.” 

“You took the subway alone? This late?” 

You can’t tell if he’s wrestling between concern and suspicion, or just pissed. Although, here would be where a normal person would remember that under a year ago you took the subway later than this five nights a week. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just going to get some rest.” you smile weakly, swallowing the rest of your water and heading to walk past him. 

Tony makes a quick step to the side to keep you there, looking down at you with pointed eyes. Despite the small heat in his eyes, a hand caresses your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. 

“Who were you with?” he asks slowly.

“No one.” you replied, keeping your voice light and confident.

Or so you thought. Tony’s fingers wrap the base of your nape, tilting your head slightly to see if you have the gall to lie to his face.

“Is there a reason you’re lying to me?” 

“How long?

“How long what?” he scoffs, unyielding. 

The tiny plastic you’ve been white-knuckling for the past few minutes is dangled inches from his face. That hardened jaw falters, shortly returning with a dry chuckle and sly smirk.

“How long have you been meeting Steve behind my back?”

part four coming soon

tag request: @those-late-night-feels

#seikkoiwrites #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon

[nicodrawings]

Dump time featuring Billie Morales aka Silly Billie

Update 2: oh! Also the first two illustrations are based on Yotsuba art!

Update: ok HC time, if you wanna know more keep reading as usual.

BILLIE SECTION

-I made Billie 5 years old.

-I’ve mentioned this before but Billie has Asperger’s.

-She didn’t talk until she was like 3 going on 4.

-Her nickname is "silly billy"

-Miles always says "how's my favorite girl in the whole wide world?" when he comes home from school on the weekends.

-Miles is a doting big brother and helps take care of her as well as connecting with her interests.

-As much as she loves her parents, she thinks the world of Miles. She's up under him the most, especially when she's over stimulated, stressed or sleepy. His heartbeat calms her.

-She has a limit to physical contact and taps when she’s ready to let go. She usually only hugs her family. Her and Ganke do hand touches instead of hugs.

-The family helps her navigate her environment and her emotions as well as socializing but never push anything that makes her uncomfortable. They always ask questions and have special routines to help her.

-A part of her routine is on Saturdays they go to the park so she can see the pigeons.

-Miles does not like pigeons, but tolerates them for Billies sake.

-They also have special songs for her like "🎶when you walk across the street take ur eyes off your feet🎶" to remind her to look both ways and pay attention when walking across the street since she can get distracted easily.

-The songs they use also attach her to music. So whenever they go to ganke he plays the piano for her and they make songs up and when she hears a song she likes she starts stimming and wiggling.

-She also takes interest in drawing because she sees Miles drawing and they draw animals and watch Steve Irwin on Saturdays too.

-She doesn't understand figure of speeches so if you say "don't sweat it" she would be like "...sweat what?"

-she doesn’t show a lot of emotions unless she’s feeling something intense.

-She rarely sees Miles in superhero mode in public but when she does she just goes “SPIDER!” and smiles and he waves at her.

-Moral of this story, she is loved.

HOBIE

-He lives with his grandparents in the Bronx area (I’m not sure which side yet tho).

-He loves his grandparents very much.

-One time at a punk rock concert a wise man told him “the most punk thing to do is to take care of yourself, don’t be reliant on the system to do so, cuz they ain’t”

-He told his grandpa the following day and they had a heart to heart about it considering that Hobie was very depressed at the time.

-So with that being said, health is incredibly important to him.

-Some ppl tease him and call him “straight-edge” but it don’t bother him much.

-Hobie officially meets the other spiders when he’s 16.

-Clicks with Gwen and Miles almost immediately.

-Especially Miles, Peter always jokes and says that they were definitely brothers in their past lives.

-Gwen and Hobie bond over music.

-Gwen gets the crush first.

-But unlike Miles she’s more forward and doesn’t wait a billion years so she’s asks him out.

-Hobie says yes.

-Only one that knows how to drive by the time he’s 18.

OTHER STUFF

-Gwen’s relationship with her father just…never gets better in my AU. He’s just an ass and as far as Gwen is concerned they’re not family, they’re just related. With that being said, although it’s never acknowledged, Gwen definitely sees Peter as a father figure in her life. She even has him as her top emergency contact. Peter started to understand this when she was 16, he never questioned it and sees her as his oldest daughter. When she’s had really bad arguments with her father she goes to Peters and spends the night.

-Peter and MJ’s home is open to all the spiderkids. No questions asked.

-Peter and MJ always say “On our taxes we have one kid” when people ask them how many kids they have.

-When Peter gets home he sees how many pairs of shoes are at the door then yells “how many kids are in the house?" They usually yell in response which gives him an idea as to how many kids are there.

-On average there’s no less than 2.

-One time he asked and a really deep voice responded along with the kids.

-It was Venom.

-All the spiders have their own therapist’s but every other weekend there’s a group therapy session for kids with powers funded by S.H.E.I.L.D. It’s not required that they go but it’s open for them regardless, just sign up and come in.

-Ganke donates some of his legos to the program and helps assist sometimes with running it since it’s not ran in the best shape.

-This connects to a bigger problem of helping hero’s with their mental health and stability, especially when they decide to retire.

-If you read the other AU list I had, this is the reason why Ganke switches his major to Social Work when he goes to college.

NICKNAMES

Peter’s nicknames for the kids:

Miles-“Junior/Little Man”

May-“Mayday”

Gwen-"Gwennie Pie”

Ganke-“Goober”

Hobie-“Hobie” (obviously)

Anya-“Ani”

Ganke’s nicknames:

Friends-“Gee” judge calls him “G-money”

Miles’s mom-“Honey”

Ganke’s mom-“Gee-Chan”

The boy that bullies him AKA Sean “Gay-ke”

Peter-“Goober” (as I’ve said before)

Venom and Eddie-“Boy”

Miles’s for when he’s feeling affectionate-“Cariño”

Anyway that’s all I got for now! If you have any questions about my AU please feel free to ask away. I love talking about it as you can see.

#my drawings #artist on tumblr #art #digital art #illustration #ultimate spider man #spiderman #miles morales #peter parker #spider gwen #gwen stacy #spider punk #hobart brown #ganke lee #billie morales #au

[writing-for-marvel]

Triage

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist | PART 2 > >

Summary: A slightly reckless and exceedingly charming paramedic carries a young girl into your ER, proving that not all superheroes wear capes.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, set in an emergency room, I am not a healthcare worker and my medical knowledge is limited to what I’ve seen in Greys Anatomy lol, incident where people are injured from a derailed train, mentions of wounds & surgery & loss of life, injuries to a young child, needles & stitching, my terrible attempt at writing flirty banter

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: based off the winner of this poll, we say hello to paramedic!Bucky ❤️ this is my first entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, fulfilling the prompt ‘First Responder AU’. Thank you to @rookthorne who looked this over for me and gave me the confidence to keep writing it 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“Incoming trauma. Train collided with a car and derailed. First wave ETA three minutes.”

At the moment your director of emergency medicine announces the tragedy and flood of imminently arriving patients, the televisions in the emergency room switch to breaking news - a presenter, wearing a solemn expression, speaks as a split screen shows what you can only describe as a colossal catastrophe.

The ER becomes silent as all eyes focus on the screens, only the rhythmic beeping of the pulse oximeters cut through the silence, a heavy weight blanketing the room as the realisation of what you’re seeing sets in.

You can’t hear what precisely he’s saying, but you can’t bring yourself to look away whilst watching the live chopper vision of smoke billowing from the train laying unnaturally on its side, barely any movement from the scene makes you wonder if anyone could have survived the incident.

The three minutes before the ambulances arrive go by in a flash, feeling like you hardly have time to mentally prepare for the extent of injuries and potential loss of life you will be facing. Then, almost in an instant, as if flicking a switch, chaos in its purest form descends upon the emergency room.

You watch on as paramedics and firefighters wheel patients in on gurneys, one by one filling up the limited trauma beds in the ER. Dr Stephen Strange directs medical personnel, making sure each case is assigned to an appropriate physician, the more serious injuries bypassing trauma intake all together and heading straight towards surgery.

Your eyes land on one man in particular between the sensory overload of people - tall, broad shoulders with long chestnut hair, carrying a young girl with one strong arm as he pushes a gurney with the other. Who you can only assume is the girl's mother, is unconscious and has blood staining the roots of her long blonde hair. Your heart aches for them as she’s handed over to the surgery team in wait, and even though the ER is filled with many conflicting loud voices, you hear the high pitched cry of the young girl for her mommy. The paramedic, now with his second arm free, pulls her into his chest before making his way to one of the trauma beds.

“You!” Dr Strange’s voice pulls your attention back to the fray and you find he’s pointing directly to you - you’ll forgive him for forgetting the name of a new resident during this moment of crisis. “The young girl with Barnes, she’s your responsibility.” That’s all the instruction he has time for before moving onto the next resident.

As you make your way through the maze of people towards the young girl, your mind flashes back to the footage of the wreckage and how grim it appeared. It seems like a miracle that this young girl is conscious and looks relatively unharmed with the exception of a few abrasions.

“I’m the one who brought her in, she’ll be all alone while her mother is in surgery, all I’m asking is to stay with her while she gets examined.” The well-built paramedic, Barnes, argues with your head nurse, pride and admiration swelling warm in your chest - he’s standing up for a scared, young girl who can’t voice what she needs right now.

“That’s perfectly fine.” You cut in, knowing Christine is a stickler for protocol and would never allow non-family members to stay with patients, even in dire circumstances. If there is a time to bend the rules slightly, you figure this is it. “I think she feels a lot more comfortable with you here anyway, isn’t that right sweetie?” The young girl nods her head, little hands reaching out to grab hold of the paramedics’ large one, eyes brimming with frightened tears.

“Thank you.” He mouths as Christine storms off to deal with the many other patients that require her attention. Your focus now switches to the precious girl in front of you - no matter how hectic the ER gets, how devastating the incident is, your thoughts need to be directed solely on her care, and not ogling at the attractive EMT who is currently soothing her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You ask the scared, little girl, but not before offering your own as a sign of good faith. She looks up to Barnes for reassurance before answering.

“Sasha.” She confesses with a small voice, partially hiding her face in the broad paramedic’s arm as she does so.

“Okay Sasha, I’m here to check you over, help patch up these cuts and make sure you have no other injuries so we can get you up to see your mommy as soon as possible. Can I do that for you?” She nods her head, sitting up a little straighter in the bed all the while maintaining a tight hold on Barnes’ hand.

“Can you tell me who your friend here is, Sasha?” You ask as you start your examination, feeling the medics’ pair of eyes watching you intently, something more than just concern for your patient's well-being has heat creeping up your chest to the tips of your ears in silent attraction.

“Bucky. He pulled me from the train.”

“All by himself? Wow, he must be super strong to do that.” You glance up at Bucky to find him staring at you with what you hope is a mixture of captivation and endearment. He offers an enchanting smile, making butterflies, which have no right to exist in an emergency room, flutter in your stomach.

“He also got my mommy too.” Sasha adds, you suspect with the youthful intent to impress you even more.

“As well!” You say in a dramatic tone which makes her beam a proud smile that she did in fact amaze you. “Sasha, I think you got rescued by a real life superhero.” You continue in a staged whisper that not only has Sasha giggling, but brings a flush to Bucky’s cheeks. The bashful blush only makes him more attractive in your eyes.

As you continue your examination, cleaning and bandaging all lacerations, keeping Sasha distracted by asking about her favourite activities and animals, you can progressively feel her opening up and trusting you more. From your experience, it can be difficult to earn a child’s trust when they are in such a foreign place, surrounded by strangers, and in particular in this scenario, when a parent isn’t around. Having Bucky, whom she formed a bond with as soon as he rescued her from the train, stay by her side through the ordeal, has been to both your benefit.

Once you cleaned all her cuts, making sure Bucky held her hands so Sasha could squeeze when the disinfectant caused a sharp, stinging sensation, you begin examining her stomach, prodding her abdomen for any signs of tenderness.

“Does that hurt, Sasha?” You enquire when she flinches and whines at your touch.

“Yes, right there.” You're proud she trusts you enough to admit that, though now concerned about potential internal bleeding. You need to act fast, but you don’t want to instil more fear in her given she’s already had a large dose today.

“Okay, it’s nothing to worry about yet, but I’m going to order you a scan so we can see what’s going on in your tummy.” Your eyes flick instinctively to Bucky, to provide some consolation in a time where you’re both worried about the young girl you’ve both become attached to in such a short time. You see the considerable concern furrowed in his brow soften when his eyes meet yours.

“Will it hurt?” Sasha’s frightened voice breaks your heart - she’s had to endure enough pain and suffering for the day, watching her mother cling to life in an ambulance, you’re desperate not to add to it.

“Not at all, it’s as painless as having your picture taken!” You explain, watching the alarm melt from her features, and feeling the tension in Bucky’s shoulders relax simultaneously. “All you have to do is stay really, really still, can you do that for Bucky and I?” The notion that there is a Bucky and you makes something in your chest buoyant.

“Yes!” She promises without missing a beat and Bucky squeezes her small hands with a relieved smile.

When Sasha’s attention turns to the nurse whose job it is to take her up for the scan, you notice Bucky discretely wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He says a sweet goodbye before she’s wheeled away, knowing this is where a paramedic and hospital patient part ways. Sasha enthusiastically waves back to both of you as the nurses wheels her away, not stopping until they turn a corner and she’s completely out of sight.

Bucky clears the lump in his throat before stating, “I think it’s my turn to leave now.”

“Don’t think I can’t see you wincing every time you move. Sit your cute butt down, you aren’t going anywhere till I check you over too.” You say as you finish completing the form to refer Sasha for the CT scan, missing the downright cheeky smirk plastered on Bucky's face.

“You think I have a cute butt, huh?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and you have to fight the corners of your mouth from upturning in a smile. He does have a cute butt - not that you’ve been staring - but you’re certainly not admitting that to his gorgeous face.

“Not the point - now, shirt off so I can take a look.” Finishing your paperwork, you finally look up to notice his cocked head and flirty smile. Having studied long hours in med school and worked even longer hours all last year as an intern, you recognise it’s been a while since a stranger has looked at you with this level of desire.

“At least buy me dinner before you ask to see me naked.”

“I’m a doctor, I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” You challenge, even though you’re positive his strapping frame, which fills out his uniform completely, will be even more impressive without a shirt. You have to swallow the saliva forming in your mouth so you quite literally don’t drool at the thought of his unclad body.

“Why don’t we find an on-call room and I can prove to you it’s not.” He teases in a low, alluring voice and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself smiling like an idiot - it, however, does not stop your face from warming like a heating pad. It’s infuriating how beautiful he is, and it’s definitely criminal to act as cocky as he is right now.

“Only if you let me patch you up first.” You bargain.

Bucky finally concedes, unbuttoning and shrugging off his uniform shirt to reveal a wound in his side about the length of a teaspoon which is still trickling blood. The tightening concern which overwhelms your body at the sight of the gash, which is much worse than you predicted he’d be concealing and will require stitches, distracts you from the allure of seeing his shirtless chest.

You shake your head, knowing he would have been fully aware he was injured since pulling Sasha and her mom from the train, and in an incredible amount of pain, but waited until others received treatment before allowing himself to be tended to.

“You should have told me about this.” Tentatively you place gauze over the cut, gently applying pressure to stop the oozing but not firm enough where he’s in pain. You can feel his attentive eyes following your every careful move, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear his breath hitch in his throat and feel his thumping heartbeat quicken as your hands graze his bare skin.

“There are many people in need of more urgent care than me.”

You look up at him from your position tending to his abdomen to find his face intimately close to yours. You can’t help yourself, being this close to him, but your eyes flicker to his lips, noticing a faint scar along his top lip you could only perceive by being this close.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it at all.”

Bucky gazes deeply into your eyes with a vulnerability which makes you doubt whether anyone has ever appraised him that he is worth taking care of. The thought feels like a punch to your gut.

“It’s relatively superficial, I can look after it myself.” He attempts to brush you off. If this weren’t your first time meeting the guy, and you didn’t feel like you were overstepping by protesting, you wouldn’t let him dismiss you so easily. “Can’t you overlook protocol this one time and give me the okay to get back out in the field? We are still looking through the wreckage for survivors, need all hands on deck” He flashes you wide, puppy dog eyes which have you melting at the knees. You suspect this isn’t the first time he’s used this ploy to get what he wants.

As if he can sense your resolve dissolving the longer you look in his mesmerising eyes, he starts to stand. But no, you aren’t going to let those ocean blues and infectious smile stop you from doing your job, and showing Bucky that his well-being is just as important as anyone else who came into the ER today. Placing your hands on his bare, broad shoulders, you push him back down onto the bed.

“You won’t be able to help anyone when you’re back in here with sepsis because this wound got infected.” You comment as you prepare the suture kit and implements you’ll need to first clean out the wound.

“At least that way I’d be able to see you again.” He jests, before sharp intake of breath as you begin disinfecting and debriding the laceration.

Even though you realise he’s joking, hopefully only about not taking care of his wound properly and not about wanting to see you again, you suspect there’s a small sliver of truth he’s hiding. There typically is a grain of truth in every joke - he seriously would have returned to the scene without receiving treatment if you hadn’t stopped him, twice.

“You don’t need the excuse of a life threatening illness to see me again. In fact, I would prefer it that way.”

Bucky eyes you with fondness as you finish up washing out his wound, even through the sharp sting and you expressing your disapproval of his careless actions. You’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve the warmth in his gaze, but you enjoy it nonetheless.

Once the area is numbed, you can instantly sense the ease which overcomes Bucky at no longer being in discomfort. Though the grunts and groans that slipped past his lips were rather sexy, you much rather seeing him in an absence of pain.

The two of you stay in comfortable silence as you lend all your attention to the placement and execution of each stitch, knowing that if you do a good enough job, a wound this size will heal to an almost imperceptible scar. Though it’s difficult, you restrain your focus from how the taut muscles of his stomach flex as you're working.

“Alright, almost good as new.” Is what you comment once you’ve thrown the last stitch and placed a bandage over the area. “You’re ready to get back to being a real life superhero.” You tease, knowing the effect the word had on him last time. You’re pleased to see that same blush bloom lightly over his high cheekbones.

“Thanks for lookin’ after me, doc.” Bucky shows his gratitude with a lopsided smile you could get so used to basking in. As he buttons up his shirt, you allow your eyes to linger on his clearly defined abs for a second before they’re covered over. He really has no right to be as gorgeous and charming as he is. “And for being such a bright light in what has otherwise been a very dark day.”

“Same to you, Bucky.” Guilt eats away at a small part of you that during what is for a lot of people in this hospital such a tragic day, you’ve instead actually enjoyed the company of a cheeky paramedic.

“Take care of Sasha for me, won’t you?”

“She’s in the best hands.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.” He says with a tone which makes you think he’s only referring to you, when you were in fact meaning the entire hospital staff. Your heart flutters at the implication.

When neither of you say anything more, silence lingering for an almost awkward length, Bucky turns to leave. Even though you know you eventually must part ways, your heart aches that the end has seemingly come so soon. Luckily, you have a reason to call him back and spend an extra moment together.

“Hang on, you need to sign a release form before you’re allowed to go.” You say, hand brushing his as you provide a clipboard and pen, a shiver running up your arm which you hope Bucky doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it as instead he quickly surveils the document and chuckles.

“If you wanted my phone number, all you had to do was ask.” Damn him and that cheeky, smug grin you’re already falling for.

“This is purely protocol.” You counter, wanting to take his cocky persona down a peg. Bucky simply smirks, as if he can easily see through your half-truth like glass.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want my number?” He challenges, and though you don’t want to admit he’s won this back and forth between the two of you, you’ll consider yourself a winner as long as you come away with a means of contacting him after today.

“I didn’t say that.”

He hands you back the clipboard, a corner of the sheet torn off with his number scribbled specifically for you to take. You try not to look too desperate by taking the note immediately and putting it in your pocket as you plan on doing as soon as he isn’t watching you.

“The next time I see you, I hope we won’t be in an emergency room.” The suggestion there will be a next time makes giddiness rise in your chest as if you’re a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Don’t count your luck, James.” You tease, having spied his true first name on his patient form. “I haven’t called yet.” You try to sound calm, even though you can feel your heartbeat quickening the longer those captivating blue eyes regard your every move.

“I have a feeling you will, even if it is just to tell me Sasha’s pulled through alright,” Bucky pauses, slowly leaning in so you have a perfect view of his exquisite eyes, and his dilated pupils, as he lowers his voice. “Or for a rain check on that on-call room rendezvous.” He calls your bluff before flashing what you’re now sure is his signature smirk, leaving you with a fluttering heart and butterflies in your stomach.

As you watch Bucky walk out the exit of the ER, turning to shoot you a wink before the door closes behind him, you know three things for certain: firstly, you’ll definitely call him tomorrow, secondly, this man is going to utterly ruin you, and finally, you’re going to let him.

Part 2 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

#em writes #Bucky Barnes #bucky #Connect4AU #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #paramedic!bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan characters #Sebastian Stan

[captain-mj]

Superhero au

I got inspired and made a little superhero x antihero au, hope you guys like it <3 Part 2 should be out soon

Ghost was good at what he did. Very good. He got up, he killed villains that the heroes were too pussy to deal with and he went home. Today had been easy. One freak that liked to hurt animals to try to make some weird chimera that he found great joy in murdering.

Ghost had been nice. He had left his face and teeth intact so he could easily be identified. The police were fucking useless and he didn’t want them trying to insist he killed an innocent again. The amount of civilian deaths pinned on him (all later redacted because they were never true) was ridiculous. 

As he slowly went around his living room, considering what he’d do with his night, he heard a creak of his floorboard. Ghost threw one of his knives at that area, seeing… 

“Soap.” He recognized the stupid superhero in his stupid get up. Too much spandex and gold for him personally. 

“Ghost.” Soap smiled at him brightly. “I finally found out where you lived!” Already his smoky tendrils, ones that were so commonly associated with him You couldn’t have one without the other, had wrapped tight around his wrists. Soap tries to break free but they didn’t budge despite his super strength. His smile faltered as he was lifted until his toes were barely touching the ground but he quickly put it back up. 

Ghost hated him so much. His smile was so bright. Literally, there was a light around him that kinda hurt Ghost’s eyes. He was happy he still had his mask on and that Soap did not see his face. 

“How dare you.”

Soap wiggled one hand so Ghost freed it and he pulled out a flier. “So Ghost. I believe that we can find an advantageous alliance for all of us if you were to join th-”

“No. I’m not joining shit. Get lost.” 

Soap smiled tighter, an almost grimace. “Well, ya see. We could pardon you of all crimes.”

“I’ve committed no crimes.”

“You’ve murdered many people.”

Ghost glared at him, the tendrils dancing around him. They felt like nothing against his skin but judging by how Soap was reacting, they must be unpleasant. He was a being of smoke and darkness rather than human. It was for the best that no one knew how human he was under everything. “I murdered monsters. It’s your fault they roam free. I’m just cleaning up the trash.”

Soap tsked. “Such messy morals.”

“Morals? Morals? Are you serious? You let these freaks get back out and hurt more people. Children. Animals. Innocent people. And you think it’s better to let them out? They prove time and time again they won’t change and you insist they will.” 

Soap stared at him blankly and Ghost wondered if he had just tuned him out entirely. “So our lea-”

“I will not be joining any leagues or organizations. I’m already going to have to move thanks to you.”

Soap tapped his fingers against each other for a moment. “I’m not going to tell anyone. But can you just consider it? I think you’d be a good fit.”

“You just said my morals were messy.”

“I did. But a lot of these people can be rehabilitated.”

“How many people have to die while we wait for one of them to heal?” Ghost asked as he started to make himself tea. 

Soap didn’t answer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. But… even if you won’t join the league, I see no reason we can’t be friends, ya know?”

Ghost glared at him hard. “Get fucked. I won’t help you. I don’t need your help. I work alone.”

Soap smiled. “Well…” He pulled out a business card and put it on the table. “Just in case.”

Ghost waited until Soap disappeared to look at the business card. He faltered when he actually looked at it. 

All of the heroes had business cards. It included their names, a small rundown of their powers and what league they were a part of if they were a part of any. 

This was not that. 

“John MacTavish”

His actual name. 

Along with his contact information and his address. 

Ghost was a little stunned but he decided to keep the card. He doubted he’d ever need it, but if Soap ever revealed his little flat to anyone, he could spread his information just as fast.

———

Soap was making himself coffee a few weeks later. He had been keeping tabs on Ghost. It was his job. His team even encouraged it. 

After the first week though, he didn’t bother to kid himself. He knew this wasn’t because of duty. Soap did not spend over an hour watching Ghost grocery shop for the greater good. 

Soap didn’t call it stalking. Stalking implied he watched him constantly and he really didn’t. Just when he had a little spare time, he’d use a tiny tiny bit of his reality bending powers to watch what Ghost was doing. He’d usually use mirrors or his phone and it felt almost like a tv show. 

Soap never saw his face. Not just because Ghost constantly wore a mask, but he blurred it. Don’t get him wrong, he’d look in an instant if it was almost anyone else. There’s a reason most super villians never kept their secret identities for long. But with Ghost… it felt wrong. It felt like cheating. 

Ghost was funny. He’d rescue kittens from trees, buy little kids balloons, and seemed to have a thing for gardenias but he never bought them. Just looked at them. 

Soap had been trying to stop. Besides the ethics, his team was starting to notice how much he watched Ghost and he knew if they saw the depth of it, they’d figure it out. Plus Ghost hadn’t done anything bad recently. As far as they could tell, he was laying low. Possibly moving. 

As if he knew Soap was no longer watching, Ghost appeared in his dreams. Usually the dreams were… Soap didn’t know how to describe them. They weren’t nightmares. Certainly not wet dreams despite Gaz’s teasing. Too fragmented and they always left him empty and sometimes… sad. 

Soap had never met a material he couldn’t rip through. Except Ghost. Whatever that living smoke was made of, it had to be indestructible.

He sighed and drank more coffee, trying to tell himself not to watch his favorite tv show. He had managed all week. Just a few more hours and he’d hit it. 

Something hit his door. It sounded… weirdly wet. He sighed and opened it. He wasn’t dressed as a superhero luckily and no one besides his team should know where he lived. 

And there he was. His object of obsession. 

Ghost looked at him, blood dripping down from a wound on his stomach. Soap couldn’t really see it, the smoke was wrapped so tight around him and it hit him suddenly that he was holding the wound together. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Soap quickly ushered him inside and sat him down on his couch. “Why aren’t you healing?”

Ghost frowned. “I don’t have super healing. Sorry to disappoint.”

“So when Captain Price threw you off that building last week you were actually hurt?” Soap asked sarcastically. That made no sense. No one without super healing would fight them so regularly. 

“Yes. That’s why i was taking it easy this week. He bruised my ribs. I nearly fractured some bones in my legs apparently. I thought i was good to go though…” Ghost adjusted himself. “Look, if you can’t help, maybe i should go. I can leave.”3

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

[aclowntiny]

♱ My Masterlist! ♱ About Me/Rules

༺♰༻ ༺♰༻ ༺♰༻ ༺♰༻ ༺♰༻

(I have tags for groups, members, female reader, & gender neutral reader, so you can also use my search bar to filter fics that way 🥰)

☆ = a personal favorite! hehe

🏴‍☠️Ateez🏴‍☠️

All Members (Gender Neutral): How Ateez Act Around Their Crush

When Their Crush Kisses Them & Runs Away ☆ Finding Out Their Crush is Allergic to Flowers When They Accidentally Walk in on You Changing ☆ How Ateez Confess To You

Ateez’s Ideal First Date How They Tell the Other Members You’re Dating

Ateez’s Preferred PDA

Ateez With a Tall S/O

S/O Watching Their Fancam ☆

Things Ateez Do That Make Your Heart Flutter ☆

Ateez + Kisses to Prove You Can Make Them Blush ☆

When You Call Them ‘Pretty Boy’

Call Your Bet! (Ateez Losing Bets Against You) When You Get Clingy

Taking Care of a Sick S/O Sharing Clothes With Their S/O

Spa Day With Ateez

What Type of Kisser is Ateez? ☆

First ‘I Love You’ With Ateez ☆

When Their S/O Kisses Their Neck ☆

Ateez + Love Languages

Ateez + Aftercare

Ateez as Hogwarts Students

Meeting Pirate!Ateez (Female Reader)☆

Black Flag, Black Hearts? Falling for Pirate!Ateez (Pirate AU Part 2) Meeting Superhero!Ateez (Superhero AU) ☆

Who in Ateez

When You Don’t Like Popcorn

Most Likely to Prank You

Most Likely To- 24 Hour Saying Yes Challenge

Most Likely to Go For a Childlike, Happy-Go-Lucky S/O

Most Likely to Let You Hypnotize Them

Unathletic & Clumsy S/O

Individual Members:

🐯Hongjoong🐯

Ink Trails- Hongjoong x GN!Reader (Soulmate AU) ☆

Hongjoong + Firsts

🐰Seonghwa🐰 May the Flirts Be With You- Seonghwa x Female!Cosplayer!Reader ☆

Seonghwa + Firsts

🐻Yunho🐻

Puppy Love- Yunho x Female!Barista!Reader

Yunho + Firsts

🍓Yeosang🍓 Blue Skies- Yeosang x Female!Baker!Reader Yeosang + Firsts

🏔️San🏔️

Down the Drain- Barista!San x Female Reader

Mon Petit Chou- Best Friend!San x Gender Neutral Reader

San + Firsts

🦁Mingi🦁 Unstoppable Forces and Immovable Objects- Mingi x Female!Reader ☆

Mingi + Firsts

🐺Wooyoung🐺 Business Booster- Wooyoung x Shy!Female!Barista Reader

Wooyoung + Firsts

🍎Jongho🍎 It’s Not Easy Being Green- Jongho x Female!Writer!Reader

The Wind Again- Jongho x Paranormal Investigator!Reader (Gender Neutral)☆

Jongho + Firsts

💎Seventeen💎

All Members (Gender Neutral):

How Seventeen Act Around Their Crush

When Their Crush Has a Guy Best Friend How Seventeen Confesses To You

Seventeen’s Ideal First Date

Carnival Dates With Seventeen Seventeen’s Preferred PDA What Type of Kisser is Seventeen? ☆ Other Members Catch You Together First ‘I Love You’ With Seventeen ☆ Things Seventeen Do That Make Your Heart Flutter ☆ Seventeen Meeting Your Parents For the First Time

Your Birthday With Seventeen Spa Days With Seventeen

Seventeen As Hogwarts Students

Individual Members:

🍒S.Coups🍒 Smell You Later- Gryffindor Quidditch Captain!S.Coups x Slytherin Quidditch Captain!Reader (Gender Neutral) ☆

👼🏻Jeonghan👼🏻

🦌Joshua🦌 Love is Blind- Joshua x Gender Neutral Reader

🐱Jun🐱 Kalon- Model!Jun x Female!Assistant!Reader

🐯Hoshi🐯 Brush Strokes- Hoshi x Female!Face Painter!Reader

🦊Wonwoo🦊

Silent War- Wonwoo x Gender Neutral!Reader

🍚Woozi🍚

Sunflowers and Snapdragons- Woozi x Female!Florist!Reader ☆

Ska Day- Woozi x GN!Soulmate!Reader

⚔️DK⚔️

🐶Mingyu🐶 A Date Like No Other- Basketball Player!Mingyu x Female!Reader (College AU) ☆

🐸The8🐸 Nails and Nighttimes- The8 x Gender Neutral Reader ☆

🍊Seungkwan🍊 Foolproof- Seungkwan x Female!Best Friend!Reader ☆

🐢Vernon🐢

In Every World- Vernon x Gender Neutral Reader

🦦Dino🦦 The Dancing Effect- Best Friend!Dino x Gender Neutral!Best Friend!Reader (College AU)

🌟Stray Kids🌟

All Members (Gender Neutral):

Things Stray Kids Do That Make Your Heart Flutter

Cute Dates With Stray Kids

Stray Kids’ Preferred PDA

Stray Kids as Dads

Stray Kids as Hogwarts Students

Who in Stray Kids

Most Likely to Trick You Into Saying Something Funny in Another Language

Individual Members:

🐺Chan🐺

🐰Lee Know🐰

🐖🐇Changbin🐖🐇

🥟Hyunjin🥟 Task Failed Successfully- Hyunjin x GN!Reader (College AU)

🐿Han🐿

🐥Felix🐥

🐶Seungmin🐶

🦊I.N🦊

➖Enhypen➖

All Members (Gender Neutral):

Enhypen as Meet-Cutes

How Enhypen Act Around Their Crush

How Enhypen Confess To You

Enhypen’s Preferred PDA

Enhypen as Hogwarts Students

Crossover Special!

Wooyoung & Changbin as Each Other’s Wingman (GN!Reader)

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #masterlist #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions

[inthememetime]

An AU in which a young adult Danny inherits a branch of FentonWorks located on Gotham, he does some work as a Ghost hunter, as Phantom, and as the illusive Ghost King.

Then one day he get an odd request; He, Daniel Fenton, is hired to protect the hero Phantom, himself, from the evil ghost king, also himself, at the request of the Justice League.

🤣 I fucking love you, anon. I would credit you if I could. I'm calling this: Fenton, King of the Scams

Due to length, I'm splitting this bad boi in two.

Danny got into the 'family business' mostly due to a lack of other options. Anywhere that would do blood or physical tests would spot he wasn't completely human pretty quick. But, despite working in FentonWorks, he gained a reputation both from ghosts and humans as an extremely fair arbitrator.

He won't destroy your property- unless absolutely necessary- but he WILL sit down with you and the ghost bothering you and figure it out. 90% of the time, the ghost just can't get to the GZ, or needs to talk to a friend/family member one last time. Sure, you're out $25/hour, but the problems are almost always solved without bloodshed.

He's even worked with Constantine a few times! Nobody knows why, but ghosts really seem to respect him. And the JL respects him as well.

News, however, moves slowly in some parts and quickly in others from one side of the veil to the other. The JL knows, now, the Ghost King is up and around permanently. (True)

They know that, historically, the GK is evil. (True- with Pariah. Most of the others were good. There's a reason the former kings kept their names, and Pariah's was changed to...well...Pariah)

And they know Pariah Dark hates mediums and living humans. (True!)

They do not, however, know that the Ghost King has changed; The King of the Damned, Lord of Screams is an unknown, although he does admit- having his Title reflect his ghostly wail means it's a little bit ominous.

Phantom, meanwhile, is known as a superhero- albeit a dead one. He works with the Bats, the JL, and YJL willingly.

No one has, as of yet, connected patient (albeit snarky), careful Danny Fenton with aggressive, often asshole-ish Phantom. Fewer still- outside of Amity Park- have connected Phantom to the Ghost King of the Damned. Or, more commonly in Amity Park- King Phantom.

Danny found this out on a normal Tuesday evening.

"Phantom!" Batman called, and the ghost stopped to hover nearby.

"Hey tall, dark, and furry! What's shakin'?"

Batman scowled. (Victory!) "Phantom, the Justice League has a long-term contract for you."

"Ooh! What is it?"

Batman handed him a folder. "Let me know tomorrow night- same time and place- if you can take it."

"You got it, bats! Good night, sleep tight, don't let the dead bugs bite!" He cackled as he flew away. "Dead bugs. Ooh that was a good one."

When he returned- not home, he knew there was a tracker (it had become somewhat of a game between him and the batfam. Loser bought BatBurgers)- he looked through it. And promptly laughed until he nearly cried.

-

The next day, he- as Fenton- went to the JL's Gotham station. "Hi, Leslie, I'd like to speak with- Batman probably isn't in yet. Constantine? Or someone involved on order 7 GH-1800B?"

The receptionist looked through- she couldn't see any details past level 2, but she could see who to direct him to for questions. "You're in luck, Danny! Batman, Constantine, Superman, Green Lantern, and Green Arrow are all on it. Superman's up top, just take the blue elevator and push the top floor button."

"Thanks!" It said something that he was here often enough to be friends with the staff. He'd never get over the beauty of space. Every time, as Fenton or Phantom, it took his breath away. The way the stars wheeled, the way he could hear them thanks to his obsession.

"Still beautiful, isn't it?" A voice asked. He jolted, then grinned apologetically at Superman.

"Sorry. I was supposed to be finding you, but- every time, it gets more beautiful."

He nodded. "I can understand that. How can I help you, Mr. Fenton?"

"Danny, please. I actually had some questions on this order protecting me from the Ghost King?"

"Sure. I know Phantom's not the most discrete hero," fair, but ouch, "but his power set is best able to combat ghosts."

"Oh, I know that- we worked together a lot, back in Illinois. I guess the question is- why from the Ghost King? The current one isn't bad. I'd say he's pretty good, myself."

Superman smiled a little pityingly. "I know you think the best of ghosts- and usually, you're right! But this guy- we've been looking at historical records, and he's a real piece of work."

"Oh, you mean Pariah Dark," he said, now understanding. Easy mistake.

-

"Exactly. So until we get a few ways to combat him, we'd like to keep our Ghost Expert safe and sound." An alarm blared before he could correct the Man of Steel. "I've got to go- just stay safe, ok, Danny?"

"But Pariah Dark is- aaand you're gone. Ok then."

Maybe it was time to come clean to the JL. Memories of being on a dissection table at a GIW base, turned in by someone he'd trusted, flooded him and he winced. Or he could make easy money protecting himself.

Yeah. That sounded good.

"Did you really have to drop the trackers in a pile of bat droppings at the zoo?"

"You found them! Hey, at least we know it works even if you're-"

"Phantom," he warned.

"In deep-"

"Don't."

"In deep shit."

Batman sighed heavily.

"I'll take it, by the way. I talked to Fenton, we worked together a lot, he's cool with it."

Batman rubbed his temples. "Thank you."

"Sure! Hey, can you even feel yourself through that material? Whoa, that came out wrong. I meant can you feel your head- oh, that's not better."

"Have a good night, Phantom."

"You too! Sorry for the innuendo! It'll probably happen again."

"At least you recognize that." Was that a smile? Double score!

---

"So how's this look?"

"Good, but do we really want to summon the Ghost King?"

"That's the only way we'll find out if this works- it's been months. We need to know if the weapons we've altered with hurt him."

The summoning began. It was a long, tedious affair; generally, if one knew a spirit's title, they could do a summoning in just a few minutes. But something like this? Constantine and Zantana agreed, it was some of their best work. The King wouldn't be able to escape this, and more importantly, would be unable to attack them.

After nearly half an hour, the two magic users plopped on the ground, sweating and exhausted. "Is...something supposed to be happening?" Asked the Flash.

"It didn't work. HOW didn't it work?!"

Superman cleared his throat. "Would it still work if you had the wrong name?"

Slowly, both magic users turned to him. "Explain," the magician hissed, and Constantine pulled out a cigarette.

Superman cleared his throat. "Well. What if Pariah Dark isn't a title, but a name?"

Constantine closed his eyes. "Fuck this. Alright, Supes, what happened?"

"Well- Mr. Fen- ah, Danny came by to ask about the order of protection. He said the Ghost King was an okay guy, and then asked if I 'meant Pariah Dark'. So would that affect it?"

Constantine rose, left the room, and screamed. After a moment, he returned. "Somebody call Fenton, please. We need a nap."

"And a beer!"

"Two beers. Each."

-

"Oh, hey, Wonder Woman. How are you doing? Did your curator friend find another haunted artifact?"

"Well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Pretty good, thanks!"

She smiled. "Good. She does have a few leads, but nothing solid yet. I was wondering if you could tell me about a few ghosts?"

He nodded. "Sure, sure. Want something to drink?"

"Whatever you're having is fine," she replied easily, and sat on his creaky old couch.

He sat across from her and passed over a mug of hot cocoa. "So, who can I tell you about?"

"Let's start with Pariah Dark."

He made a curious noise. "You know, Supes asked me about him a few days ago, but ran off before I could say anything. Are you looking for his powers, history, or?"

"Is Pariah Dark a name or a title?" She asked.

"Bit of both. He became king a few thousand years ago, but was just the worst. When he was stopped the first time, ghosts stopped using his real name, and replaced anything with his name on it with Pariah. Dark was his real last name, though."

She frowned. "The first time? He is no longer the King?"

"About...eh, a thousand years ago, give or take a few centuries, the Ancients got together and sealed him to stop him from destroying the world. Nobody could win head-on, though, so he was king in name. Then, a few years back, he was released, and decided to do the whole destroy the world thing again," he said.

"But the current King didn't want the world to be destroyed, so he, Phantom, and other ghosts held him at bay long enough for him to challenge and win in single combat, then become king. Like I told Superman, though, he's a good guy."

"And do you know this new King's name?"

Oh. Shit. "We're allies, and it's incredibly unwise to share information like that about him," although technically, they already knew it, "but I can tell you that he's known as the King of the Damned, and he's very human friendly, minus a few crazies."

There. They'd be able to summon him with an incomplete title, but bindings wouldn't work without at least part of his name and his full title. It was why beings like Clockwork went by 'Master of Time', or Clockwork instead of their true name.

Wonder Woman's gaze sharpened- she'd caught onto the half truth. Luckily for him, her emergency communicator beeped before she could get out her lasso. Hooo boy. Maybe he needed to lay low in the GZ for a bit.

-

"Phantom, where is Fenton? The person you were asked to guard?" Batman asked.

The other side of the communicator was silent. "Phantom, respond." Silence. Batman turned to Constantine. "Any luck?"

He shook his head. "Turns out he didn't give us a true name. I keep getting images of his female counterpart in Illinois or a weird thermos, most of the time," he said. He sighed deeply. "The rest of the time, there's a ghost way scarier than Phantom in a crown."

"It's my fault," the Amazonian princess said quietly. "I kept pressing about Pariah Dark and the new King. Fenton warned me sharing information about the current Ghost King was unwise- I should've known even speaking about him could get Fenton in trouble. And if Phantom swore to you to protect Fenton, well."

"Hey, you didn't know the guy had a werewolf with portal powers that would just kidnap him," the Flash offered. "Who could? It's nuts."

"I think we only have one choice," Superman said warily, "and I don't like it." Superman had an understandable nervousness of ghosts- they were one of the only things that could reliably harm him without kryptonite.

"Neither do I. But l'll see if Zatanna is free."

In the secretary's desk, who'd had to leave early a week ago and was still in the hospital, was a note from one Daniel J. Fenton. It said, in general, that he was sorry he had to leave abruptly, but he would be perfectly safe with Phantom as an honored guest at the Ghost King's court for the next month.

The interim receptionist incorrectly noted this as junk mail, or perhaps a bit of fanfiction, and let it alone.

-

There was a painful tug in Danny's gut, and he groaned. "My liege?" Fright Knight asked.

"My apologies, I'm being summoned to the mortal realm," he said, then cocked his head to the side. "As King, not Phantom. Hmm. I'll see you all as soon as I can."

"We understand," said Queen Dora, and Danny took his true form.

Phantom looked like a young man, albeit with white hair, big eyes- basically, as friendly as he could while still being taken seriously. His true form was a little more...eldritch. He didn't actually have feet like this, just a long, black tail. His entire body, really, was that of a massive black serpent made out of static- if serpents had four arms with sharp claws, if their coils randomply dissipated into green and black smoke before remaking, and-

Ok. He looked...nothing like a serpent. Danny did, however, have to admit, the black crown, burning in ectoplasmic fire that matched the curling green horns and solid green eyes did make a pretty cool accessory for summonings.

Danny liked summonings- sometimes. More accurately, he liked fucking with people. And this would be a perfect- wait, was that Constantine?

-

At first, John thought it another dud. Nothing appeared in the circle. "Is it just me, or is the temp dropping in here?" The Flash asked.

Batman grunted- as good a yes as they'd get.

"King of the Damned, you have been summoned to this place. Show yourself!"

Constantine, a moment later, wished he hadn't spoken. It was impossible to keep track of the monster before them- its' body kept shifting and changing. One moment, static. The next, a clear view of the milky way. The next, stars he'd never seen before and that no mortal was meant to.

"Y̷o̵u̶'̸l̸l̴ ̴f̴i̴n̸d̶ ̵i̶t̴ ̸e̴a̵s̴i̸e̷r̷ ̵t̸o̶ ̷f̷o̶c̴u̷s̷ ̶o̵n̴ ̸m̶y̵ ̸f̴a̸c̶e̶,̵" said the King, kindly enough. Superman covered his ears and winced.

He- it? Danny'd always referred to it as a he. He was right. Somehow, the massive, green glowing maw filled with giant teeth and solid, unblinking eyes below fiery white hair and massive horns was easier to focus on. He hurriedly looked away from the horns, which were changing shape and size as quick as the rest of him.

"Right. We're looking for a missing persons- two, actually," he said. "Do you know where Danny Fenton and the spirit known as Phantom are?"

Did he know- Danny couldn't help the laugh. "O̷f̴ ̴c̷o̶u̴r̷s̶e̵!̷ ̷T̴h̴e̸y̷ ̴l̵e̵f̸t̴ ̴a̶ ̴n̷o̷t̷e̶ ̸f̷o̵r̴ ̸y̵o̸u̸,̸ ̶r̶e̴m̷e̶m̵b̵e̸r̴?̶"

Batman spoke. "We received no notes."

The King frowned. "L̵e̶s̵l̷i̴e̸ ̷d̵i̸d̸n̶'̶t̶ ̷g̵e̶t̶ ̵i̸t̷ ̶t̷o̴ ̷y̴o̵u̴?̷ ̶F̶e̶n̶t̴o̴n̶ ̸s̵a̷i̶d̵ ̶h̸e̸ ̸l̴e̶f̷t̷ ̷i̸t̴ ̵w̴i̴t̵h̵ ̵a̶ ̸m̵o̷r̸t̴a̴l̵ ̷b̸y̵ ̶t̴h̸a̶t̷ ̵n̶a̵m̷e̴.̶" He tacked on the 'mortal' at the last moment. Man, it was hard to be yourself while playing like you weren't yourself, while acting like you knew yourself a little.

Flash jumped up, and less than a second later, cleared his throat sheepishly. "So, uh. Honored guests at your court?"

He nodded.

"Can we talk to them? One or both?"

#inthememetime #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp x dc #dpxdc #ghost king danny #john constantine #danny fenton #ask answered #fenton King of Scams #long post

[supraveng]

Trying to mend a broken heart

part one

Summary: you and Bucky don’t get along, constantly pushing each others buttons, this time he may have pushed you too far

 A/N: Non canon; Marvel characters but no superheroes or Avengers; post college AU.....I am focusing on angst for the first few chapters, I’ll decide if it changes to a happily ever after based on feedback 

Word count: 1504

Main Masterlist

Walking up to your door, ready to end this horrible day, you heard the crowd of people on the other side before even getting your key out.  Normally you would have been prepared to interrupt Natasha's hangout, even join in, but today you just wanted to curl up in bed and cry.  

You deserved a pity party, and their fun wasn't going to stop you. Making your way into the house you took a deep breath and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.  The group quieted slightly when they saw you come in but continued their conversations while you poured your first drink.  

Throwing it back in one go, you started to pour another when Nat spoke up.  "Hey, you're back early.  How was dinner with Jeffrey?". 

You could tell by her voice that she knew something was wrong and was trying to comfort you by not asking the wrong question.  Humming at her, you brought the glass to your mouth, taking a small sip before responding, "we broke up." 

Taking another full gulp, you looked up at her, trying to put on a brave face. "Actually, that's not true….him and his wife are getting back together…..so I'm not needed" you shrugged then finished the drink in your hand.  

At this point you had everyone's attention and was doing your best to appear strong.  Wanda looked at you concerned, you could tell she wanted to ask more but you decided to get it all out of the way now so you could start to move on. 

 "Apparently he wasn't divorced, they were just separated.  Why is it that every guy I date cheats, or lies or is a convict" you start rambling, only to be interrupted by Yelena. 

"Awe, I miss Joshua, I wonder how he's doing". Sam immediately smacks her arm in warning, "what? He was fun".  Natasha rolls her eyes at her sister before focusing back on you.  

"We ordered Chinese, it should be here any minute and there is plenty, join us and forget about that asshole" Wanda begged you to join them.  Looking around the room, you knew your presence would bring down your friend group and declined.  

You were almost to the stairs, bottle in hand, when you heard Bucky mumble something under his breath, but the way Steve smacked the back of his head, you knew it had to be about you, and for some reason you were willing to confront him about it.  

Bucky and you got along well the first day you met, but since then, you would both made snide comments to each other, and the longer you've known him, the worst they got.  

"What was that?  I couldn't hear you over here" you looked at him waiting for a response, not sure what to expect. 

"I said that's what happens when you date dirt bags" Bucky told you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  At this point, all the air seem to be sucked out of the room, you couldn't hear anything besides the blood pumping in your ears.  

How dare he judge me? No one moved as you stepped closer to him, and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself from slapping him or breaking down in tears, at this point you weren't sure which way you might go.  

"Thanks for the insight Barnes" you stared him down as best you could.  "I guess I need to break this habit of being attracted to cheating, lying, assholes.  And who better to understand that than you, right?" 

Giving him one last cold glare, you exited the room, headed up the stairs and closed your door as quietly as you could, not wanting him to think he angered you.  He couldn't have that control over you after the way he's treated you tonight and for the last 2 years

~~~flash back~~~

Natasha and you were finishing up the final touches for your house warming party when she spoke up "so Steve is bringing a friend, he's known him since forever and I think you will really like him".  

She made it seem like an innocent introduction to one of her boyfriends friends but you could tell it was a set up.  

"Oh Nat, don't do this to me.  I'm not mentally prepared to meet someone tonight" you pouted at her.  

"I know what you are thinking, but he's different"

And he was different, Bucky came to the party after everyone else arrived and brought a fun but calming energy to the house the minute he walked in.  He seemed to know everyone already, so Steve introduced you and bragged about you to him and vice versa.  

You and Bucky chatted almost the entire night, he was charming and flirty but in the most sincere way.  The smile never left your face the whole night.  As the party was wrapping up, you gladly gave him your number when he asked and were left breathless by the kiss he gave you before he walked out the door. 

Bucky Barnes had left you blissfully happy when you fell into bed that night.  The following weekend was a get-together at a nearby pub to celebrate Steve's promotion at work, and once again Bucky was the last to arrive.  

Except this time, he had a petite blonde with him when he made his way to the table you were all sitting at. He introduced Britney to the table before heading to the bar for drinks, giving you a small smile as he walked by.  What the hell?  

Not sure what was going on you decided to chat up the newcomer.  "So Britney, how do you know Bucky?" taking a sip of your drink.  She immediately looked at you, and you could tell she was judging you from head to toe, but you couldn't care less.  

Giggling before she answered "I'm his girlfriend, why else would I be here?" Her condescending tone made me want to accidentally spill my drink, but you held back.

"Oh? He hasn't mentioned a girlfriend" you smiled at her, feeling stupid for even expecting anything from him besides flirting last week, but hadn't expected things to die before they started. 

"Well, it's new, it's only been a few weeks" she replied and gave you the once over again, apparently judging your response.  "And I'm not the jealous type, I wouldn't worry about him around someone like you" she smirked knowing exactly how her comment made you feel.  Stupid to think mean girls stayed in high school.  

Trying your best to not lose your composure you smiled "definitely don't have to worry about me, I wouldn't touch him with a 10 ft pole.  I have no interest in catching Chlamydia''. You abruptly stood announcing you were ready to dance and dragged Wanda with you.  

~~~~end flash back~~~

"What the hell is wrong with you Bucky?" Steve was probably the angriest one in the room now.  When he started dating Nat, he took you under his wing like a little sister and always protected you no matter what.  

Bucky was immediately defensive and glared at Steve, "so I'm the bad guy for telling the truth?" 

He scoffs and pours himself another drink, he did feel a bit guilty but you had said hurtful things to him since that night in the bar when he ran into his neighbor and invited her to join the group since her date stood her up.  

Thinking of that night still upset him, he hadn't even got a chance to talk to you when you decided to talk trash about him to Britney.  

At first he thought it was a joke, but the way you avoided him all night and was dancing with some frat boy the whole time, he knew whatever hope he had last week was ridiculous as you obviously didn't feel the same. 

"I still can't figure out why you two don't get along".  

Bucky growled at Sam's remark, "she has been an insufferable, self centered bitch to me for no reason, I really don't care if her feelings are hurt right now".

 But he did care, he's been defensive around you since that night, not wanting to get too close so you couldn't hurt him, but every time he made a snide remark at your expense, it hurt him more than he was willing to admit.  

It was Wanda who came to your defense, “well Bucky, when you lead someone on when you already have a girlfriend, how do you expect them to react?”   Bucky looked at her completely confused, “what the hell are you talking about?” 

At this point you were finishing your shower and heard the argument going on downstairs, but assuming it had to do with a game they were playing or something on the tv, you turned on your Bad  Bitches playlist and crawled into bed.   The only thing you wanted right now was to be over this day and have a fresh start tomorrow.   

Part two

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #Marvel AU #avengers au #avengers angst #marvel angst #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #angst fanfiction #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #Steve Rogers #sam wilson

[vendetta-if]

With recent superhero movies like The Flash and Across the Spider-verse dealing with things like time travel and alternate univierses. I'm curious about what would happen if similar happened and the MC wound up encountering Viktor from the Dead Man Walking AU?

Oooh that's angsty 😰 It would be filled with a tearful and heartfelt reunion. For those who haven't read it, I have made the Dead Man Walking AU side story public a while back and you can read it here (Part 1) and here (Part 2). Also, I've compiled a list of all the publicly available side stories here 😀

Viktor from the Dead Man Walking AU is really a husk of the man he once was. He has become someone who's very bitter and cynical, and he won't stop at anything to make those who took his child away from him pay in the worst way possible. The only reason he's still alive is out of pure spite; there's no way he's going to die as long as the killer is still alive.

So, yeah MC would be in for a bit of a surprise to see just how different their dad is from the one they know and remember. But Viktor would be even more surprised to see his kid all grown up now. He would definitely break down and cry while hugging MC tightly, not wanting to let go.

MC would tell him everything that has been going on in their life and for the first time in years, Viktor genuinely smiles--even though it's a wistful one. At least, he feels something other than the numbing pain, hatred, and anger. Rather than telling MC what he has been up to all these years, he would rather ask more about MC and what they like and stuff, whether they still love the same ice-cream flavour, and he would carve all those little details all his heart.

Funnily enough, meeting Viktor would end up being a good thing overall for MC and Luka and Grandpa from the current Vendetta universe. Hypocritically, Viktor would make the three of them promise to stop their foolish endeavour to avenge him, saying he never wanted or expected it from them. He would tell them to live their lives to the fullest and he would also make sure Luka knows that he's not at fault at all.

Basically, he would tie up all emotional loose ends that his alternate self had tragically left, and yes, even with Grandpa as well. As much as they had beef, they still care for each other. I think that will help MC, Luka, and Grandpa heal once Viktor returns to his own universe.

But for Viktor, once he returns to his own universe, that encounter just makes him sadder, angrier, and more spiteful. How could one not when he has seen what he could've had, what could've been? While MC and Luka can continue with their lives, for Viktor, MC was his future and everything... There is no moving on for him, only more burning desire to avenge his kid. And once he somehow manages that... Honestly, he has not expected to go that far.

#asks #au #char: viktor #char: mc #char: luka #char: grandpa #if: vendetta #if vendetta #vendetta if #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript #hosted games #choice of games #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive games #interactive story #cyoa #cyoa game

[thewanderersminuet]

Title: Crossed Stars

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: M

Relationship: Loveywalker

Tags: Romance, growing up, background DJwifi, Loveybug AU, canon compliant up to kuro neko, eventual identity reveal, eventual sexual content

Summary:

Marinette has a full plate. School. Her apprenticeship. Working part time for her parents. Being the savior of Paris. She can't imagine giving any of it up, but sometimes she wishes she could be like any other girl her age and have some fun. Go out with her friends and fall in love. It's too bad the one man who could understand what its like to juggle real life responsibilities and being a superhero doesn't want her anymore. Adrien thought that taking time off school would help him figure out what he wanted out of life. He thought that moving out on his own would give him the freedom to see his friends more. Instead he spends his days working for his father, doing patrols around the city, and hoping one of the few friends he still talks to has a day free. What is he supposed to do when the one person he could always count on seeing leaves him behind too?

Chapter 1: [Read on AO3] [Read on Tumblr]

Chapter 2: [Coming soon!]

#loveybug au #crossed stars #updated with actual tags and rating