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[superbassbuck]

call me if you get lost | peter parker (18+)

⤷ pre-brand new day!peter parker x fem!reader

⭐︎ warnings: pre-brand new day canon compliant, fluff, huge idiots in love, hurt/comfort, typical depictions of violence (fighting, blood, guns, injury), near death experience, angst, light banter, suggestive themes, abandonment issues, touch-starvation

⭐︎ word count: 9.6k

⭐︎ a/n: there are no major spoilers for bnd in this fic !! i've only mentioned/alluded to things that were already shown in the trailers, so you do not need to watch the movie to understand.

synopsis: You have been Spiderman’s communicator—his eyes for crime and the voice on the other end of a staticky little radio that took him less than an hour to build. He doesn’t know your name, or what you look like. And you don’t know a single thing about him. Peter tells himself it’s better this way, that keeping you at arm’s length is the only way he can keep you safe. But that promise slowly frays the longer he speaks to you.

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“Alright, Spiderman. There’s a bank robbery going on at 30th Avenue. Suspect is—uh, hello? Is this thing on?”

Peter laughs, already swinging through the tall buildings of New York City, zipping and flying through them faster than you can even say ‘Spiderman.’ While one arm is busy slinging out webs from building to building, his other arm holds onto a thick communications radio that looks like an amateur concoction of a walkie-talkie accompanied with old thick wires he found in a junkyard.

“Yep, I hear you loud and clear,” Peter says from his end. “I’m already a few blocks away. What does the suspect look like—”

“Spiderman? Hellooo?” Your voice cuts him off in a burst of static that makes his ears ring. “Ugh—is this radio even working? Are you still there?”

He needs to make a mental note to figure out a way for your voice to come through clearer—and preferably not through a brick of what feels like a tenth-century sad excuse for a cellphone that he has to clutch every time he wants to talk to you.

“I’m here!” Peter shouts through the mic, swinging around a corner.

“Ah! There you are!” you say, sounding like you’re smiling, if only Peter could picture what you looked like. “Missed your voice for a second.”

Peter’s face flushes under his mask.

“Detecting a sudden increase in body heat—specifically around the facial region—and a spike in heart rate despite no intense physical activity being performed—”

“Shut up, Evie,” Peter mumbles, hoping you didn’t hear him from the other end of the line.

He hadn’t gotten around to fixing the background noise integration yet, so the shitty microphone attached to the radio picks up almost everything. He hears you laugh on the other end, and he has to force down the rapid thumping of his heart before Evie calls him out on it again.

“Are you blushing, Spiderman?”

“What—no!” Peter immediately interjects, landing on top of a tall building on 30th Avenue. His eyes scan the windows of the bank directly across the street. “Just tell me what the suspect looks like, alright?”

You chuckle again. “Okay, the suspect is tall, wearing dark clothing, and probably handsome—if it weren’t for the ski mask covering his face.”

Peter rolls his eyes underneath his goggles.

“Now’s not the time to play around,” he says, already swinging through the entrance as innocent bystanders and employees run out in a panic.

He swings above the crowd in a perfectly prone position mid-air until he lands on his feet in the center of the bank. He doesn’t need your comms in here—he can handle whatever gets thrown at him at this point. His ears tingle with a warning that tells him the enemy is to his left. He turns his head to that direction, and…

“Spiderman!” A tall man in dark clothing and a ski mask holds up a rifle, pointing it directly at Peter. “You’re dead, kid!”

“Oh, jeez,” Peter says, slowly raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh, and I forgot to mention,” your voice statics through. “He’s heavily armed.”

“Yeah, good comms,” Peter scoffs sarcastically.

“Who the hell are you talking to?” the man shouts, pointing at the radio in Peter's hand. “Is that a bomb? Drop it!”

Peter furrows his brows, glancing at the object in his hand. A bomb? Seriously? The radio really looks that bad?

The man’s grip on the gun tightens, holding it in a way that lets Peter know he has clearly never held a gun before in his life. The panic among the people remaining in the building surges at the sight of the weapon, everyone shoving past each other toward the entrance.

“Come on, man. Don’t shoot—there are innocent people in here!” he tries to interject.

“Innocent dead people soon, if you don’t put that weapon away!” the man barks back.

“The police are on their way,” you explain, serious this time, through the radio. “Take care of that gun now, or he’ll start shooting like a madman once he sees the sirens. You have less than two minutes.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Time me.”

“Starting now?”

“Starting now,” he confirms before switching off the radio’s microphone input.

The man takes the loud clicking sound as a threat, his finger hovering over the trigger with every intention to shoot—but Peter moves faster.

Extending his left hand, a thick layer of web covers the muzzle, trapping any potential bullet in the barrel. The poor man doesn’t even have time to react before Peter webs the gun, yanked it out of his hands, and tosses it aside. Just as the man turns to make a run for it, Peter pins his ankles together with a thick strip of webbing, sending him face first onto the floor before securing his wrists behind his back with another band of webs.

From where he still stands in the center of the room, Peter unclicks the microphone. “You got it, Static?”

He can practically feel you rolling your eyes at the stupid nickname. “That was fifteen seconds. Good job,” you applaud. “And are you seriously still sticking with Static? I hate that nickname.”

Peter chuckles, scanning the area for any signs of injuries, but finds none. The police finally arrive, pulling up with sirens blaring as they assess the crowd and begin scouting the area with weapons drawn. Seeing the suspect already bound by webs on the floor, they immediately move in with handcuffs.

Knowing the police will take it from here, Peter zips out of the building as if the entire fight—if you would even call it that—was just a quick pit stop.

“Well, that’s just what I’m gonna have to keep calling you, because your voice always comes through staticky,” he says, the wind picking up through the microphone and making it harder for you to hear him. “Unless… you wanna give me your actual name. Then maybe I can call you that instead.”

You pause at the other end of the radio, the silence between you filled only by the harsh wind and the snap of spiderwebs on his end.

As Peter swings his way back to his apartment, his heart pounds wildly in his chest with anticipation.

This isn’t the first time he’s teased you to get you to give up your name, and you’ve asked for his name more times than he can count on his fingers.

“Very funny,” you muse from the other end, your voice drawing out with a teasing tilt. “I could say the same thing to you.”

Peter smiles, landing on his apartment rooftop with a huff. “I don’t know—I think I like the way Spiderman rolls off your tongue.”

For the very first time since you two found each other through a stroke of pure luck—when Peter spent a night building a radio to hijack police comms and accidentally connected to you, a woman doing the exact same thing—you find yourself completely at a loss for words.

He doesn’t even know where the sudden boost of confidence came from to blurt out a flirtatious comment like that. Maybe it’s the suit, or maybe it’s that flutter of excitement he gets every single time he talks to you.

But that confidence slowly teeters away the longer you stay quiet. He grimaces, feeling like he overshot his mark big time.

Finally, he hears a slow draw of breath from the other end.

“That’s a shame,” you tease. “I would’ve loved to hear the sound of my name in your voice.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his body tensing as your words travel down his spine and straight to his heart. It was the way you said it—that sultry little rasp that even the static couldn’t mask. An awkward silence takes over the both of you, and for once, Peter is grateful for how poorly he configured this radio, since he can use it as an excuse for a faulty mic.

“Dramatic increase in heart rate detected. Body heat has increased an additional two degrees, and your suit—specifically around the groin region—appears to be tighter. I am also detecting a heightened state of arousal—”

“Evie!” Peter barks suddenly. He hears your laugh come through the other end, and the sound definitely doesn’t help his situation at all.

“Got you to blush twice today.” You taunt. “I think that’s a record, Spidey.”

“I wasn’t blushing,” Peter lies. “Anyway—enough of that. Are you seeing any other criminal activity in the area?”

You hum, and he hears a faint clicking noise on your end. “Nothing,” you say. “But what’s the rush? You’re given the opportunity to relax. You should take it, considering how hard you’ve been pushing yourself.”

Peter hops onto the ledge of his building and starts idly pacing back and forth, smiling under his mask as he holds the radio close to his ear. “Aw, you don’t have to worry about me. I have Evie for that.”

You blow a raspberry, and Peter’s smile widens.

“Yeah—well, Evie is an artificial intelligence. She can only care so much. Plus, she can’t make as many good jokes as I can.”

Peter’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he kicks a tiny stray pebble off the ledge, watching it fall ten stories to the ground. “Are you getting jealous of my assistant now?”

A garbled noise leaves your lips, and he chuckles as you stammer over your own words.

“God—you’re so full of yourself, aren't you?” you huff. “I’m your partner—so it’s only natural for me to look out for you.”

“We’re partners?”

“Haven’t we been this entire time?”

Peter pauses, glancing up at the sky, where the orange sun is starting to set behind several towers of buildings.

Partners. He hasn’t had anyone he could call a partner since everything happened—since he made the whole world forget who he was. He hasn’t had a real, caring partner since… them. Ned and MJ.

And now, after all that time spent in solitude, he’s finally found someone to call his partner again. Someone he’s never even seen, whose name he doesn’t even know. All he knows about you is that you’re smart—smart enough to build a radio and link up to his frequency—and that you live in New York. He could’ve passed you on his way to buy groceries, or seen you on the subway. Hell, you might even live in his building. Maybe you’re even that girl he accidentally swapped laundry with the other night.

“Spiderman? You still there?” you ask, snapping him out of his daze.

Despite your usual spunky attitude, in that moment, you sound so… small. Like you don’t want to hang up, even if there aren’t any crimes to report.

“I’m here,” he breathes, his voice coming out softer than he expected. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at that. He can hear it. “Okay. Good.”

The microphone picks up shuffling noises on your end—judging by the sound, he pictures you rolling over in bed and getting comfortable.

“How about we play a game?” you ask before the radio falls into silence again.

Peter raises a brow under his mask. “A game?”

“Yeah—every time you complete a successful mission, we trade a fun fact about each other.”

He hums, taking a seat on the ledge and letting his feet dangle over the edge. “Okay, sure. And since I just finished one—does that mean the game starts now?”

You chuckle softly at his enthusiasm to play along. “Sure. Want to go first?”

Peter cranes his neck back to look at the sky. Although neither of you has ever brought it up, he has a feeling you’re both on the exact same page when it comes to secrecy. Neither of you wants to give away too much and blow your identity, but you share just enough to keep things interesting.

And by letting him go first, it feels like you’re giving him the chance to set the tone.

“Hm. Let me think.” He rubs his chin through his mask. “Okay—I’m ready. My favorite coffee is a hot Americano.”

You snort. “The first fun fact you want to share is your coffee order?”

“Hey—coffee can be fun!” Peter interjects. “Now tell me yours.”

A little laugh escapes you, and he can hear you shaking your head. “Fine. I get an extra-hot almond milk latte, with one pump of sugar-free vanilla, one pump of regular hazelnut, and two scoops of vanilla bean powder.”

The white lenses of Peter’s goggles widen, and he lets out a brief, disbelieving laugh. “Oh—so you’re pulling my leg because I started us off with a lame fun fact? Is that it?”

“What?” You giggle along. “I’m not! That’s my actual order—especially on chilly days. You should try it sometime.”

Peter imagines it: a girl—a pretty one, judging by your voice and personality—ordering that ridiculous concoction at a coffee shop while the barista rolls their eyes at how long it takes to recite. For some reason, the visual warms his chest.

“Sure. And I’d tell you to try a hot Americano—but based on the order you just gave me, I don’t think you’d like it very much,” he jokes.

You chuckle. “No, probably not.”

Silence fills the space again, and Peter kicks his legs over the edge of the ledge, trying to think of something to say before he loses you.

He clears his throat. “So, uh—”

“Can I ask you something?”

You both talk over each other, and his face warms with embarrassment. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Okay,” you continue. You let out a shaky breath, and he instinctively braces himself for whatever you’re about to ask. “I’ve noticed that your receiver is always on. Do you forget to turn it off?”

Peter pauses, confused by the question. “No. It’s on twenty-four seven—just in case something happens, you know?”

You hum softly. “I get that. But I guess what I’m trying to ask is… don’t you have other things in your life to worry about, instead of fighting crime behind a mask?”

Peter stays quiet for a moment.

In truth, there’s a bigger reason he keeps the radio on besides his duties as Spiderman. He could easily listen in on reported crimes just fine without your help, but he keeps it on twenty-four seven in the hopes of hearing your voice ring through—just in case you might… need him.

There have been several nights since meeting you where he tosses and turns in bed, reaching for the radio to see if your receiver is on. It usually isn’t during consistent parts of the day—meaning you’re either at work or in class. It’s usually off at night, but sometimes around three in the morning, he’ll see your receiver light up and you’ll call in, your voice completely wide awake, proving you can be a real night owl.

Ever since meeting you, it feels like he finally has a friend to talk to. The worst part of it all is that he doesn’t even know your name. And he can never meet you, no matter how badly he wants to.

Peter finally found someone he cares about—and he isn’t going to risk losing you.

“I… I guess I do,” Peter says, trying his best to tread carefully. “I always keep an earpiece in, just in case something happens. You can never be too careful.”

You hum again, and Peter knows that answer wasn’t enough to buy it.

“And I guess I also keep it on… just in case you ever want to talk.”

Shit, Peter curses to himself. If his half-assed answer just now wasn’t enough to make you switch off the line, this one definitely takes the cake. You’re quiet on the other end, and each passing second makes him want to do you both a favor and turn it off himself.

“In that case,” you speak softly, “I’ll keep my receiver on in case you want to talk to me.”

His heart stutters in his chest, feeling as though all the air has been sucked straight out of his lungs.

Peter hasn’t felt this way since high school. He’s grinning ear to ear—a smile so wide it hurts the muscles in his cheeks. He lets out a chuckle, a raspy, disbelieving sound at the realization that there’s a chance you might feel the exact same way about him.

“Don’t say that,” he says before he can stop himself, trying to inject some humor to cover up his flustered state. “You’re gonna get annoyed with me.”

“Who’s to say I’m not already?” you joke back.

And for the first time in a long time, Peter feels like the happiest man on Earth.

He looks up at the sky, watching birds fly across the orange hues as he kicks his feet like a high schooler who just scored a date with the prettiest girl in class. His heart is racing so fast in his chest and he feels so giddy that he’s actually surprised Evie hasn’t called him out on it yet.

He wants to make this last—to say something, anything, to keep this moment from ending.

Suddenly, a series of sharp beeps emits from your end of the radio. It's a sound he knows all too well, a reminder that duty calls before anything else.

“Oh, God,” you mutter quietly.

Every hair on Peter’s arms stands on end. He leaps to his feet, ready to launch himself toward whatever is happening. “What is it, Static?”

“There’s an alarm triggered at Grand Central Terminal,” you explain. “NYPD comms just flagged it—there are a bunch of hostages. It looks bad, Spiderman. Multiple armed men have barricaded the main concourse.”

Peter wastes no time, shooting a thick web line toward the nearest building and flinging himself into the sky. “How many hostages are we talking?”

“At least fifty. Commuters, staff—they were trapped during rush hour,” you answer, the clack of your keyboard clattering over the staticky connection. “I’m tapping into the security feed right now. They’re holding guns, and… it looks like there’s a heavy grade explosive right in the center, attached to the information booth.”

The wind roars through Peter’s mic as he accelerates through the air. “How much time is on the clock?”

“I’m trying to zoom in—eight minutes,” you say. “They’ve blocked all the major exits with deadbolts and wired the perimeter. It looks pretty half-assed, Spidey. If SWAT breaches the doors, or if even a piece of rubble hits that rig, the whole thing will blow.”

“Alright, no breaches,” Peter takes a mental note, his mind racing through entry points as the massive arched roof of Grand Central comes into view. “You’re my eyes in there, Static. Find me an entry point that skips the doors.”

“The skylight above the west balcony has an old grate,” you reply instantly. “It leads directly into the ventilations—high enough to keep you out of sight, but close enough to drop in.”

“Got it,” Peter replies, landing silently on the glass roof. He peers through the skylight, his eyes adjusting to the interior where dozens of terrified people are huddling on the floor, held at gunpoint by masked men with automatic rifles.

Right in the center, duct-taped to the information booth and blinking with a harsh red timer, sits the bomb.

“Okay, I’m in position,” Peter breathes through the radio. “Time me?”

He hears a soft click on your end, signaling that your timer is already running.

“Be careful, Spiderman.”

He tucks the radio against his thigh, securing it with a thick band of web.

Peter moves exactly in the direction you tell him to—he wedges his body into the dusty vents, moving with the practiced speed of an arachnid that takes him from point A to point B in the blink of an eye. He slowly lifts the grate, the poor thing held up by only a flimsy screw, and sets it down softly beside him to avoid any loud noises.

He lands gently right in the center of the terminal—but his plans for discretion don’t last when a hostage looks up and yells, “We’re saved, everyone! It’s Spiderman!”

Immediately, all the armed threats spin around, several barrels abandoning the hostages to point straight at the man in the red-and-blue suit.

“Oh,” Peter smiles. “Making my job a lot easier. Thanks.”

Before giving them the chance to shoot, Peter fires off thick strings of web into every single barrel, clogging up the firearms. With every weapon bound, he tangles the web lines together into one big knot and yanks them all out of their hands.

The guns crash into each other in a tangled mass of spiderwebs and steel. With the firearms rendered completely useless, he tosses the mess aside to focus on the men—who are now charging at him with combat knives and sidearms.

Peter quickly makes short work of the pistols, disarming the men with his webs before a stray bullet can even graze the bomb. One by one, he takes them down, firing webs with every intention of keeping them bound and completely immovable.

When Peter gets down to the last guy, slinging a thick web to pin him flat against the wall, your voice rings out from where the radio sits tucked against his thigh.

“SWAT is moving in—mind the doors and tripwires!”

“Shit,” Peter curses, whipping his head toward the exits—but it’s already too late.

The SWAT team breaches fast, shouting and gesturing for the hostages to run. Panic surges through the crowd, and every frantic step from the civilians echoes like thunder in Peter’s ears. One misstep, even one piece of falling debris, could set this entire place off. Peter snaps his head back to the bomb. Four minutes remain on the digital clock, but suddenly the numbers freeze—and a sharp high pitched frequency fills the room.

It’s quiet to everyone else, but to Peter's heightened senses, it might as well be an air siren.

“Wait!” Peter shouts, turning to vault himself away before the bomb sets off.

But it’s too late.

“Spiderman! Get out of there!” you cry out through the radio—right before a brilliant flash of red and white blinds the entire building.

Pressure and heat slam right into Peter’s chest, throwing him backward through the air and showering him in flying stone like a ragdoll. Glass shatters overhead, raining down thousands of sparkling fragments as the information booth detonates into a massive cloud of fire and smoke.

Peter crashes hard against the far wall, the impact knocking every last drop of air from his lungs. He coughs up blood, staining the inside of his mask, before sliding down a broken slab of marble. He wheezes violently as dense gray smoke fills the room. His ears ring loudly, drowning out the shouting SWAT officers, the screaming crowd, and the creaking support beams above.

Evie’s voice sings in his ear like a taunt.

“Detecting bone fractures near the lower hip. Internal bleeding. Labored breathing—”

Then, your voice comes cutting through the static.

“Spiderman! Answer me!” Your voice cuts in and out, and despite being crushed under rubble with smoke filling his lungs, he reaches for the radio at his thigh.

He lifts it with a trembling hand, and his heart stops. It’s broken, snapped open with electricity sparking near the wires.

“Please—are you there? Spiderman! Check in!”

“Time, Static,” he manages to croak out.

Even through the static, the sheer panic in your voice is unmistakable. “The ambulances are on their way. Just hold on for a little longer—”

“What’s the time, Static?” he repeats with a wet cough.

You suck in a sharp breath. “Four minutes and twenty-three seconds. Now save your breath and stop talking!”

“Peter,” he croaks, coughing up more blood.

“W-what?” you stammer through tears. The sound makes his chest hurt more than the slab of concrete resting heavy on his ribs. “You’re breaking out.”

“Our little game—remember? Every successful mission, we exchange a fun fact,” he wheezes, fighting for air. “My name is Peter Parker.”

A broken, sobbing gasp escapes you. He glances down at the radio, watching the little light that indicates his microphone is working flicker in and out.

“Static? Are you still there?”

“I can’t hear you, Spiderman.”

The blue glow of your television screen is the only source of light in your dim apartment. Outside your window, New York City keeps moving, but inside, time feels like it has been frozen for seven agonizing days.

On the screen, a news anchor stands outside Queens Hospital Center, her face grave under the studio-lit broadcast.

“…we return to our top story tonight regarding Spiderman,” the reporter’s voice echoes through your quiet room. “It has been one week since the explosive incident at Grand Central Terminal that left the vigilante in critical condition. Authorities and medical staff at Queens Hospital Center have kept tight-lipped about his recovery.”

You pull your knees tighter into your chest, your fingers trembling as they wrap around a lukewarm mug of tea you haven’t touched.

“In a shocking turn of events earlier this morning, hospital administrators confirmed that Spiderman is no longer in their care,” the reporter continues. “According to sources, when attending nurses entered his private room to adjust his IVs and monitor his severe injuries, they found the hospital bed empty. There is no security footage explaining how or when the injured hero managed to slip past guards, leaving NYPD officials baffled—and deeply concerned given the extent of his internal trauma.”

Your eyes widen, and you press a hand over your mouth as a shaky exhale spills past your lips.

He woke up.

He survived.

You keep watching, waiting to see if the reporter will expose his identity. A part of you is already annoyed that these attention-hungry journalists would stoop so low now that he’s been admitted to a hospital. But another part of you desperately wants to know—because you felt like that might’ve been what he was trying to tell you over the radio right before the line cut out.

A heavy breath escapes you when the reporter doesn’t mention a name, and the broadcast switches to a story about local stray animals. You’re not even sure if the sigh you let out is one of relief or frustration.

You glance over at the radio resting on the couch beside you.

Your receiver light blinks green—it has been on this entire time.

For the past seven days, you’ve been sleeping with the radio clutched in your hands in hopes that you’ll hear his voice one more time. Even as you walk through the hallways of your university, moving from lecture to lecture, you keep an earpiece tucked in your ear so you won’t miss him if he calls.

A few more days pass, and you’re sitting at your desk with heavy eyes. A lamp at the corner of your desk emits a warm glow over the pages of your notebook. You feel like you’ve been awake for days, running on far too little sleep and not nearly enough caffeine to keep you going.

Your head rests heavily in your palm. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s 3:41 in the morning.

With a tired sigh, you start to push your chair back—but the sudden sound of familiar static stops you in your tracks.

A sound that is usually so grating to your ears suddenly sounds like heaven.

You quickly scramble back to your desk, your hand swiping up the radio and lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?” you say, your heart racing. “Hello? Is someone there?”

The static cuts out for a second, and you pull the radio back to check the lights. Both indicator lights are glowing green, showing that you—and whoever is on the other line—are connected. The static crackles through again, and you press the receiver tight against your ear, holding your breath as you wait for them to speak first.

“—atic?”

That voice—so familiar, so gentle—rings out. You feel your heart leap straight into your throat. You’ve been waiting for days to hear him again, but you aren't prepared for what to say now that he's actually here.

“Sta—t—ic,” Peter’s voice cuts in and out before suddenly coming through crystal clear—clearer than the very first time you ever connected with him. “This is Spiderman. Are you there?”

Your heart swells with a profound wave of relief. Tears prick at your eyes, spilling down your cheeks before you can even stop them.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, your hand trembling as you press the radio against your forehead. “You’re okay. You’re here. Thank God. I—I thought I lost you. I was keeping up with the news, and when they said you fled the hospital—I hoped you were okay. I’ve been waiting for your call all week. I—”

“Hey, hey,” Peter coos softly on the other end. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve been here the whole time. I’m not going anywhere.”

You hear him rustling around on the other line, the soft friction of sheets sounding like he’s lying in bed. The thought of him resting comfortably in his own room rather than trapped in a sterile hospital bed makes your heart melt.

“Where have you been?” you ask, your voice cracking as you wipe a stray tear from your cheek. “Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry,” Peter says softly, his breath catching in a faint, painful wince that he tries to cover up with a dry laugh. “My suit was pretty much trashed, and the radio got crushed in the blast. It took everything in me just to crawl over to my workbench, and a few more days to rebuild the transmitter from scratch.”

A shaky breath leaves his lips. “With the radio broken, I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to find you again. I spent all this time rebuilding it—I even fixed the signal integration so both our voices would come through clearer.”

You let out a wet, teary laugh. “So that’s why you sound like that.”

You can picture him grinning on the other end. “A lot better, huh?”

That familiar, teasing tilt in his voice sends a wave of butterflies straight to your stomach. A soft laugh escapes you, and he chuckles in return. Then, as if savoring the sound of your joy, he breathes out softly.

“I missed hearing your voice.”

Your feet carry you over to the comfort of your mattress, and before you even realize it, you’re collapsing onto your bed, kicking your feet like a giddy, hopeless romantic.

“I missed hearing you, too. You’d better not let that happen again. If I can barely handle losing you for a week, I definitely can’t bear losing you forever,” you say, trying to pass it off as a joke, but the tremble in your voice betrays you.

Peter’s grin widens where he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll make sure to be extra careful from here on out, just so you don’t lose me.”

You smile into your pillow. “Good.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two—not the awkward kind from when you first met, but a warm one, wrapping around you both like a blanket despite the distance. You set the radio down on the empty space beside your pillow, and he does the same. With the microphone improvements, you can hear his steady breathing on your end, and he can hear yours.

“Were you able to hear anything I said... the last time we spoke?” Peter asks softly.

You shake your head, the friction against your pillow rustling over the mic. “You were cutting out too much.”

He pauses, the soft sound of sheets shifting as he pulls his blanket up over his shoulders.

“It was about our game—the fun facts one,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s walking on eggshells.

You couldn’t catch much before the line broke down completely. Pet... That was all you had managed to hear. But a deep feeling in your gut tells you that whatever he said was a precious piece of himself—a piece he wanted you to have in case he didn’t make it.

You hold your breath, waiting to see if he’ll offer it up again.

“And since I completed a successful mission,” he continues, swallowing hard. “I thought I’d continue with that trade.”

You brace yourself, your heart clawing in your chest as you wait for the confession—for him to finally drop his guard and lay his identity on the line, just like you plan to do with yours.

Peter draws a slow, quiet breath.

“Do you… have a boyfriend?”

You blink.

The silence stretches for a long second, the sudden change in direction catching you so off guard that your mind does a hard reset. Of all the things you expected him to say—a big secret, a superhero revelation, a tender confession about his life—that was not on your bingo card.

“What?” you squeeze out, your voice squeaking slightly.

Over the line, Peter clears his throat awkwardly, a sudden rustle of sheets betraying how fast he just sat up to bury his face in his hands.

“O-or girlfriend! Sorry—I shouldn’t have assumed! I mean, you don’t have to answer! It’s just—it’s a fun fact! A personal fact! That’s how the game works, right? You tell me something, I tell you something… or—”

A helpless, snickering laugh bubbles up from your chest, breaking off his ramble.

“Spiderman,” you giggle, burying your blushing face deeper into your mattress.

“Yeah?” he yelps, sounding like a man standing on trial.

“No,” you answer, a wide grin spreading across your face. “No boyfriend. No girlfriend.”

A long, almost dramatic exhale breezes through the speaker, followed by the soft thud of Peter flopping back down onto his mattress.

“Oh, thank God,” he mutters, trying to keep it quiet enough so the microphone doesn’t catch it—but you hear it anyway. “I mean… cool. That’s cool.”

You snort. “Okay. You know how the game goes. Now it’s my turn to ask.”

“Do I have a girlfriend?” he prompts.

You shrug, taking the opportunity to tease him. “Or boyfriend. I don’t judge.”

A playful scoff leaves his lips, and you can already imagine him rolling his eyes. He’s quiet for a few seconds, making you think he’s just too flustered to answer. But when his voice comes through shaky, almost hesitant, you feel an unfamiliar tug at your heart.

“I—um… I used to have this girl,” he murmurs. “We were dating for a while—but it didn’t work out.”

The tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. He speaks like a man who’s been broken again and again, carrying a profound heartache you couldn’t even begin to measure. A small, selfish twinge of jealousy tugs at you, but you know it’s not your place.

“What happened?” The words spill out before you can stop them.

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, and you wince with regret for pushing too far.

“Well, that’s something you’re gonna have to ask the next time I complete a successful mission,” he says, trying to ease the tension with a playful tone, and you’re more than happy to fall right back into it.

You roll onto your back, looking up at your bedroom ceiling. Across the city, Peter does the exact same thing.

“Deal. But let’s not jump back into all that too soon, okay? Whatever crime happens out there, let the police handle it,” you say, pulling your blanket up to your chin. “I just want to keep you all to myself tonight.”

You want to slap yourself for how ridiculous you sound. He just opened up about a painful past relationship, and you immediately turn around and sound like a clingy girlfriend.

But Peter laughs—a full, rich sound that doesn't sound at all like he just survived a traumatic experience a week ago. It’s a laugh that never fails to make you smile.

“Usually, I’d oppose the idea of ignoring crime,” he says softly. “But for you? I’ll stay. For as long as you want me to.”

You smile, nuzzling your nose into the soft fabric of your blanket. “Good. Goodnight, Spiderman.”

“Goodnight, Static.”

And for the remainder of the night, neither of you switches the radio off, letting the quiet and comforting sound of each other’s breathing lull you to sleep.

It’s a brand new day, and Peter is running around New York getting his errands done. Laundry run, check. Grocery run, check. The last thing on his list is to pick up some flowers for Aunt May.

Right next to the small bodega where he always buys his flowers sits a busy coffee shop.

The front window is large enough to see everything and everyone inside—which is exactly why he has to do a double take at the person standing near the cashier.

He stops dead in his tracks, causing a hurried pedestrian to bump into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles, but the man just shoots him a dirty look and keeps walking.

Standing inside the coffee shop is a face that’s all too familiar—someone he hasn’t seen in a long, long time.

Ned.

Peter’s feet are moving before he even realizes it. He hovers near the entrance, stepping aside for a few exiting customers before pushing the door open. Slipping into an empty seat near the front, he watches Ned chat with the barista. But Ned isn’t alone.

He’s standing next to a girl—a pretty girl, at that. And one he doesn’t recognize.

Peter smiles to himself, a swell of pride washing over him seeing his best friend doing well, and scoring a pretty girlfriend to date.

“And for the missus?” The barista holds up a paper cup, pen hovering over the cardboard as she waits.

You glance up at the menu board, though you don’t really need to. You know your order like the back of your hand.

“Can I get an extra-hot almond milk latte with one pump of sugar-free vanilla—”

Peter’s heart stops.

“—one pump of regular hazelnut…”

That voice. That familiar, sing-song cadence he hears every night through a staticky radio. The last voice he listened to when he nearly died just a few weeks ago.

“And two scoops of vanilla bean powder,” Peter mumbles to himself like a mantra.

“…and two scoops of vanilla bean powder?” you finish, flashing the barista a harmless, innocent smile.

The barista gives you a disbelieving look, and you chuckle awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The movement gives Peter a clear view of a small earpiece nestled right inside. Everything playing out before his eyes matches the picture he’d built in his head—except for you. You being this stunning was far beyond anything he could have imagined.

The barista finally finishes jotting your order down, and you and Ned turn to search for an open table. Peter holds his breath, watching your easy smile and the natural way you interact with his once best friend.

The pang in his chest is a feeling he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Two people he cares about more than anything... so close, yet entirely out of reach.

His heightened spider-sense gives him the ability to hear almost anything, even from across the room. Yet right now, the ringing in his ears and the heavy thumping of his heart drown out every other sound. You and Ned approach an empty table with only a single chair, but you glance around and spot the unused chair across from Peter.

“Hey,” you smile politely—a soft, courteous tone reserved strictly for strangers, not your partner in crime. “Are you using this chair?”

This is it.

Finally, for the first time, he can introduce himself to you properly. He could bring both you and Ned back into his life with a single, simple greeting.

Hi, I’m Peter. Peter Parker. The guy you’ve been talking to over a flimsy radio these past few months.

Peter looks up at you, completely frozen where he sits. Your smile fades into a faint frown when he hesitates. Then, your eyes flicker briefly to the earpiece resting in his ear—identical to yours, worn for the exact same reason.

Just in case either of you calls in.

Before he loses you, Peter clears his throat. His hand subtly moves up to scratch his ear, hiding the earpiece with his knuckles before slipping it into his palm. When he finally speaks, he deliberately drops his voice a few pitches deeper—adding a slight rasp for good measure.

“No, go ahead.”

That polite smile returns, and you pull the chair away from his table. “Cool, thanks.”

You slide the chair up to the table you’re sharing with Ned, and just like that—unaware that you’ve completely flipped his world upside down and inside out—you fall right back into conversation with him.

The barista calls out your order with your name, and the sound of it is like music to his ears.

He repeats it quietly under his breath. It sounds natural, like a name that was always meant to be spoken in his voice.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t reveal his identity to you. Telling you his real name that night—when he was trapped under rubble and bleeding out—was just a lapse in judgment brought on by desperation. But now that he’s here, looking at you and his best friend in broad daylight, he knows he can’t risk letting you into his world.

Anyone who knows Peter Parker is Spiderman is a person bound to be lost. And Peter can’t afford to lose you.

Yet as he watches you sit across from him, tossing your head back with a laugh that is painfully familiar, it feels like he’s already lost you anyway.

“So, tell me more about this party.”

“Well, it’s a housewarming party,” you explain, tucking your hands into your pockets as you walk through the night streets of Queens. “Two of my friends moved into an apartment recently—so we’re celebrating tonight.”

Peter hums, leaning back in his chair and staring mindlessly at his screens. He folds a piece of paper, fiddling with it as his mind wanders to who those friends could be. Ned? And if so, he wonders who else he could be moving in with—if not him.

“That’s… cool,” he finally answers in an indifferent tone.

You round the corner, the sounds of the bustling city nightlife picking up on your microphone. “Yeah. And since I’ll be busy socializing tonight, I won’t have my receiver on all night. But I’ll try my best to check in with you.”

Peter huffs a laugh through his nose. “I’m a big boy. You don’t need to check up on me.” He glances at the window. “I’m more worried about you, though.”

You step aside for a pedestrian who’s rushing past. “What for?”

Peter pushes himself out of his chair with a grunt, stepping up to the small window and looking down at the city street below. “Well, you’re a woman walking all by yourself at night. I hope your friends at least know where you’re at.”

You chuckle, pulling open the door of the small corner grocery store and being welcomed by a soft bell jingle.

“Don’t worry your head, Spiderman. If I constantly worry about my well-being just because I’m a woman, then I’ll never get anything done in this city.”

You’re greeted by a frail, older lady behind the counter, and you offer her a polite smile as you walk past. Making your way to the coolers in the back, you weigh your options between beer and seltzers.

“Do you think two cases of Budweiser is enough?” You ask Peter.

The bell chimes again, and a large man with a dark hoodie pulled over his face enters. You glance at him, and he holds your stare. You look back down.

Peter’s cackle draws you back in. “And you’re drinking?”

You can’t help but grin at the worry in his voice. Grabbing two cases—one in each hand—and shutting the refrigerator door, you head to the front counter. “Yes, because I’m an adult and should be enjoying myself. And you should be, too, Spiderman. It’s Friday night.”

A bitter smile dances on his lips. He should be enjoying himself—a night out with you, instead of being cooped up in his apartment, worrying about you getting wasted at a house party surrounded by men your age with grimy hands and bad intentions.

You set the cases on the counter, and the lady begins to ring you up. The man in the dark hoodie falls in line right behind you, holding just a pack of gum in his hand.

“Okay, I gotta head out. I’ll check in with you later tonight—”

The lady at the front counter has her attention locked on the man behind you, and she sharply gasps, ducking down immediately. Your head whips around, and you find yourself face to face with the black metal of a handgun.

“You know Spiderman?” the man before you asks in a deep gravelly voice, finger poised right above the trigger.

A pathetic, broken sound escapes you. You still have Peter on the line, and you hear the sudden panic in his voice the minute your microphone picks up your heavy breathing and whimper.

“Static? Who is that? What’s happening?”

“You must be mistaken,” you raise your hands in surrender, shoulders timid, as a bead of sweat rolls down your temple. “I—I don’t know Spiderman—”

“Bullshit!” the man shouts, backhanding you with the grip of the gun.

You cry out in pain, your body collapsing hard onto the floor as your hand flies to your cheek. Your earpiece falls out, Peter’s voice ringing out loudly in sheer panic. The man huffs an incredulous laugh as he crouches down to pick it up and lift it to his ear.

“Tell me your location—where are you? I’m coming—!”

“103rd Street,” the man answers with a grin. “That’s where your little lady is at—on the floor, bleeding outta her lip.”

The wind whips loudly through the earpiece, audible even from where you’re prone on the ground.

“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” Peter’s voice crackles through the wind and speaker. “What do you want from me?”

The man only chuckles, turning the small earpiece in his fingers, unfazed by the threat of a friendly neighborhood superhero.

“That’s the thing with people like you who try to play hero,” the man says, his tone dripping with bitter resentment. “You stop guys like us, but what you fail to realize is that we aren’t the bad guys at all, Spiderman. While you sit in your fancy little apartment, the rest of us are out here fighting for scraps just to survive—and it’s people like you who keep stopping us.”

He looks down at you, lying on the cold floor with a trembling hand pressed against your bleeding lip.

“We’re just trying to eat,” the man spits into the receiver. “So if a guy like me has to take a little collateral to get your attention, or to get a quick payday—that’s not evil. That’s just survival. There’s a lot of money on your head, Spiderman. Money that can help an average person like me tremendously.”

The sharp thwip of a web fires through the speaker, followed by the harsh gust of the open night sky.

If it were anyone else being held hostage, maybe Peter would extend the courtesy of hearing him out. But he’s not holding just any person. He’s holding you—the only person Peter has opened his heart to in years. The only voice he looks forward to, the one that gives him hope to push through to a brand-new day. Right now, there isn’t a single shred of restraint left in Peter’s mind—not when your life is on the line because of him.

“I don’t give a shit about your excuse,” Peter spits, whipping around a sharp corner as he flies onto 103rd Street. “If you hurt her again before I get there, I swear to God—”

“It’s too late, Spiderman.”

From high above, Peter spots the grocery store below. The white lenses of his mask widen as he peers through the large front windows, catching sight of you scrambling backward in fear, hands raised in surrender.

The man above you stands straight and lifts the gun. Peter’s eyes lock onto the finger resting against the trigger. With one launch off the side of a building, he catapults himself straight through the glass windows.

The explosion of glass shatters in time with the gunshot. As the bullet travels through the barrel of the gun, Peter collides into the man, sending him flying sideways and the gun tilting upwards. The bullet hits the ceiling, the fluorescent lights exploding with electricity as the roof panel falls. You quickly scramble away so it doesn’t hit you.

Peter sends the man flying from one window to another, rolling around on the pavement outside until he lands on top. There is no amount of webs he can use to convey his anger—so he settles with his fists.

One punch after another, one hit after brutal hit. Blood flies out of the man’s face, tainting Peter’s suit with red. It splatters across his knuckles, and he delivers a hit so violent that it sprays right over the white lenses of his mask.

“Spiderman, stop!”

You shout, but the ringing in his ears is louder.

Tears prick at his eyes behind the mask as he continues raining down punches. The man lost consciousness long ago, but Peter isn’t done. He can’t rest knowing anyone who threatens to hurt you is free to walk these streets.

He can’t rest until he knows, for certain, that you’re safe from danger.

He cocks his fist back one last time, with every intention of putting this guy down for good—until your body crashes into his, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. His arm freezes mid-air, suddenly weighing a ton.

“Stop! It’s over—it’s done,” you try to reassure him but your voice comes in a panicked and rushed tone. Sirens sound in the distance. “The police are coming.”

Peter looks around, his chest heaving.

Several bystanders have stopped to stare, hands covering their mouths after witnessing such a brutal act by a man who was supposed to be a savior to all.

He curses under his breath, one arm wrapping tightly around your body.

“Hold on,” he says, before slinging a web to the highest point of the building next to you and launching you both into the night sky.

You bury your face in his chest, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as you hold on to him for dear life. You’re too terrified to look down. So instead, you glance up at the man holding you—the very man you’ve dedicated your life to assisting these past few months.

He doesn’t look like the friendly Spiderman you see on television or in the newspapers.

Blood lays over his mask like a veil, and you can feel his heart racing against yours from how tightly you’re holding him.

He doesn’t say a word until he finds a discreet alleyway. Then, finally, he sets you down gently.

Your eyes don’t leave his face even as you release your grip on him. You stand in front of him, eyes wide and lips parted as you stare at the man you’ve been dying to meet for what feels like years. But while this is your first time seeing him, it isn’t his first time seeing you.

There are so many things you wanted to say, but none of them come out. You never expected your first meeting to be like this—under circumstances where he tarnishes his reputation and your face bloodied and bruised.

“I…” your voice wavers, desperate to say anything, terrified he might swing away at any second.

Peter swipes his bloodied hand against his thigh to clean it before stepping forward, gently cupping your face in both hands. The lenses of his mask are so expressive, shifting with every furrow of his brow. Even behind it, his expression is wrecked.

“Look at what he did to you,” his voice cracks, sounding so broken, like it’s all his fault.

You huff a soft laugh, resting your palm over his knuckles as you lean into his touch. “If I’d known I was going to see you tonight, I probably would’ve worn more makeup.”

You try to joke, but he doesn’t laugh. His thumb gently brushes over the torn skin at your cheekbone, then down to your busted lip.

“I can’t believe you’re right here,” he breathes. “And I’m holding you.”

Peter should get your injuries fixed up, take you somewhere safe, or even take you home, but doing that means he’ll have to say goodbye—and he doesn’t know when he’ll give himself the chance to be this selfish again.

For the first time in years, it feels like he’s found salvation. After everything, he tries to convince himself he deserves this—even if it's just for a few minutes.

“You know what I look like,” you smile painfully. “Yet, I still don’t know a single thing about you.”

Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down. “I’m sorry.”

You step closer, your hands slowly finding the hem of his mask resting around his neck. With trembling fingers, you slowly lift it up—giving him every opportunity to pull away if he wants to—holding your breath as you raise it over his nose. Brown curly hair decorates the nape of his neck.

As you try to tug it up higher, his hands find your wrists, gently stopping you. “I can’t.”

With a quiet nod, your hands fall back down to his cheeks, cupping them softly. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheekbone, his jawline, and the plump of his bottom lip.

The press of your thumb against his lower lip makes his breath hitch. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch—the first grace of warmth he’s felt in forever.

His white lenses open again, and his gaze drops to your lips—bruised, bleeding, and parting softly. The tension between you two suffocates him, and without waiting another impatient second, Peter tilts his head down and kisses you.

His lips press against yours, gentle and soft. And when you return the kiss, he feels like he’s in heaven. He takes his time with you, his lips exploring yours and savoring the quiet sweetness of the moment. Your hands are warm against his cheeks, and his hand finds your waist, respectfully holding you close as his heart beats as one with yours.

You kiss until you both run out of breath, finally pulling away to rest your foreheads against each other.

Peter shuts his eyes, breathing in your scent. “I wanted to do that from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“I am detecting a sudden increase in heart-rate and body warmth—”

“Shut up, Evie.”

You chuckle, your teeth catching your bottom lip while heart beats wildly in your chest.

“A successful mission,” you smile up at him. “You know what that means.”

He chuckles at that, the sound sending butterflies to your stomach now that you’re hearing it up close for the first time.

“You’re right. You go first.” He prompts.

You tell him your name, but he doesn’t react the way you thought he would after hearing it for the first time. He smiles—almost boyish, with kiss-swollen lips. It feels as though he’s known your name all along.

Peter repeats it softly. “It’s beautiful,” he says.

Warmth fills you from head to toe. You were right. You loved hearing the sound of your name in his voice.

You tilt your head, leaning in until your nose grazes against his. “What’s yours—”

Frantic footsteps echo just outside the alleyway.

Peter’s senses tingle and reverberate through his entire frame. Everything in his body is screaming at him to do one thing: run.

Two people turn the corner, and he freezes at the sight.

“Oh my god, there you are!” Ned shouts frantically, catching his breath. “We were wondering why you weren’t answering our calls—then someone at the party said there was an accident happening on 103rd Street—which is where you were going—and wait, is that Spiderman?”

Standing right behind him is MJ.

“You scared us!” she yelps, running to you with a hug. You turn around with a weary smile and a relieved sigh.

“I’m okay, you guys shouldn’t have left to come find me. It was dangerous back there, and yes,” you motion behind you, “this is—”

Peter doesn’t even let you finish. He pulls his mask down and, without another word, zips up and out, moving through the dark like a ghost in the night. All the warmth vanishes like the gust of wind he leaves behind as he disappears into the air.

“God,” Ned breathes, the three of you standing dumbfounded in the alleyway as you watch him disappear around the corner. “See! It’s like I told you, MJ! He’s like Peter Pan—if you really believe in him, he’ll show up!”

“Okay—you know, your fanboying really freaks me out,” MJ says, making a face. She looks back at you. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay—”

A shudder passes through your body.

My name is Peter Parker.

“Peter,” you whisper with a sudden realization.

📝 first time writing for peter parker kinda nervous !! "all these things that i've done" by the killers was on repeat while writing this. for the first time in a while, i've had a lot of fun and passion writing a marvel fic again, and i hope you can feel it when you read this fic. if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them! I do not have a tag list. to get notified for fic updates, please follow @notify-superbassbuck and turn on notifications.

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[midnightsimpsstuff]

DO YOU EVEN CARE?

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Includes: established relationship, signs of cheating, slight angst, self doubt, mentions of bad family, takes place in third year, no communication, happy ending.

a/n: Had an idea, ran with it, in love with it, posting it, hope you enjoy it.

Word Count: 2.2k

Your boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki wasn't really a physical affection kind of person, he was more verbal, saying the most beautiful things about you, always knowing what to say when you feel down, that was just how he was.

Sometimes you wished he showed he cared, he doesn't hug you unless you initiate it, he doesn't kiss you on his own; only doing it if you ask or kiss him first, doesn't cuddle with you when you share a bed unless you happen to sleep on him only then might he awkwardly put an arm around you.

It annoyed you, of course, it was cute to you the first few months of your relationship, it's been six months now it wasn't so cute anymore.

At one point it made you wonder whether he truly cared about you, you felt like you should talk to him about it but you couldn't bring yourself to, you felt like it would be weird and you weren't the one to talk about emotions like Shoto was, you showed them unlike he did.

You had tried to show him you weren't happy, not talking to him, not kissing him, not hugging him, walking away when he starts talking, but he wasn't seeming yo get it.

You sent your friend, Midoriya, to see how he was feeling about it. He had returned with news of what Shoto had said which made you even madder than before.

"Well Midoriya, I have noticed her being weird, I know it's my fault by I'm assuming she'd tell me when she's ready." he said, and you imagined him saying it too which made you feel worse.

That statement made it obvious he cared about you, you aren't dumb but you would like it if he showed it, you felt touch deprived constantly and you're not single, you aren't meant to feel that way.

You rolled your eyes when he finished telling you, your friend Denki had now sat beside you two and had joined the conversation. You didn't send him away so he stayed thinking about something.

"Do you think you should try making him jealous to see if he'd care?" Denki asked and you actually thought about it for a moment, it seemed smart but not so much you didn't want to seem like your cheating on him, that's to far.

"I don't want to cheat on him, or do weird shit to other people, it's to far Denks" you said leaning deeper into the couch you sat on side by side with your friends.

"Wait, what if you don't do anything, what if we do all the things and make it look as innocent as it usually is." Midoriya said as his eyes slightly widened, it was a perfect plan in his eyes.

You smiled, this was perfect, you could finally see if he truly cared.

"So boys, what should we do?" you said while smirking like a Cheshire cat with a master plan, they couldn't help but do the same.

That's what brought you here, in Midoriya's arms as he held you bridal style, you both laughing about something, staying outside not noticing as Todoroki was in the common room, seeing you and watching you from inside.

Or maybe you two noticed and that's why you two were giving each other more platonic affection than normal.

Shoto watched you two, he thought you two looked happy and he was happy his best friend and girlfriend got along well. He wouldn't lie he was disturbed by Deku's hand placement but didn't think much of it you two didn't seem like you understood what you were doing so he shrugged it off.

And he most especially tried his best not to stare when he watched Deku effortlessly move you from both hands to one hand holding you up as you wrapped you hands around his neck still engaged in your conversation.

When you two passed the common room, Shoto waved and greeted you both but you both didn't notice him, or to you both ignored him continuing your conversation as Deku carried you up the stairs and as far as Todoroki knows to his room.

But to you two, you were peeking at him from the stairs, you watched as he sadly put his hand hand down, but as soon as the frown came on his face it disappeared, he didn't seem fazed at all.

He had just assumed you were still ignoring him for something he is yet to know he did, so he shrugged it off, thinking of what he could do to make it up to you, he missed you but he won't tell you that so it won't seem like he's manipulating you to take him back.

You felt a little bad, but you instantly stopped feeling it when Deku rubbed your back comfortingly telling you a 'Better luck next time' and you began feeling angry again.

It was dinner time now, luck was not on your side, Shoto was yet to come over, to talk to you, to kiss you, to love you like you wanted. Oh, how you wish you could just talk to him.

Denki was being his usual clingy self to everyone, so it didn't take anyone by surprise when he jumped on Shoto when he came in, hugging him, but all your boyfriend did was hug him back before carefully pushing him away then taking a seat.

You were already sat, and he happened to seat diagonally from you, perfect for him to see you but you wouldn't see him, so you won't be angry.

But you were angry because you weren't seeing him. You didn't understand what you were doing wrong everything was so stressful to you.

Denki took the seat beside you and before Bakugou dropped the plates for all of your foods, Denki pulled your chair closer to yours.

You giggled all pick me girl like, as you two had practiced, "When did you get so strong, Denks" you said as you playfully nudged him.

He smiled back at you, looking charming if you do say so yourself, but to everyone else he looked quite flirty.

Todoroki saw it, and he wished it was him that did that, wished he would kiss you after but he knows he can't because he doesn't know how to ask for, or how to do it without a little push.

He sighed before going back to eating the delicious meal Bakugou happened to make, he decided he was going to ask you something that night.

Dinner was over and you were the last one to finish eating, well you and Bakugou since he ate last and stayed back to make sure everyone washed their plates.

As you finished washing your plate you heard someone calling your name, but it was definitely not Shoto, "Bakugou, did you call me?" you said turning over to the boy sitting on the counter away from the sink, glaring at you.

"What's up with you and Icy Hot?" he asked, and you felt yourself heat up in embarrassment.

Bakugou was your friend, but you didn't think you two were close enough for him to notice something like that.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" you couldn't help the way your voice sounded a little smaller than usual.

"You keep on avoiding the guy, the shit you and Denki pulled during dinner, and I saw as the nerd carried you upstairs." he said as if it wasn't a big deal.

Then his glare tensed, then his body relaxed and he stared at you, "We don't talk a lot but that doesn't mean you can't tell me what's up" he said, and you realised you didn't have much to lose anyways.

"I feel like he doesn't care about me at times. Thats why I've been flirting with Deku and Denks because I want him to feel jealous, it's my twisted way of making him care" you said and it sounded stupid to say out loud now, most especially with the person you were talking to.

"You know your dumb as shit, it's obvious that boy cares about you." he said matter of factly.

"No, but he doesn't show it." you said, as your eyes watered and your voice cracked.

You had grown up with the type of family that doesn't say 'I love you all the time' they showed the love. With warm hugs and cheap but sentimental presents. You found it hard to talk about your problems that way and it wasn't any of their fault.

"Have you told him this?" he said and all you shook your head, the tears were leaving your eyes now and your head was down.

"Why don't you try telling him, because he's not like me that would get you to talk he prefers it if you talk to him about it on your own accord." he said and you had subconsciously moved closer to him now.

"Thanks BK, I'd talk to him tomorrow he should be getting ready for his study session now, can't disturb him." you said, joking at the end and laughing a bit.

"Can I hug you? You can totally say no, but I think I need a hug right now." you said now wiping your tears.

He pulled you in, although he was sitting on the counter he seemed bigger than you. You hugged him feeling comfortable in his arms.

Before you pulled away and went to your dorm not noticing the person watching you both and finally understood why this way happening in the first place.

"Got that, two tones?" Bakugou said as he jumped of the counter and faced his friend, that seemed to be lost in thought.

"Yes, thank you Bakugou." Shoto said as he smiled at Bakugou.

Bakugou nudged him, "You're welcome, both of you are my friends, I look out for my friends." Bakugou walked away, hands in his pockets thinking about what a good person he was and an even better hero that he was going to be.

Todoroki knew he had to do what he does best, talk to you about it.

A soft knock was heard on your door, you were sat on your bed, practicing what you would say to Shoto when you saw him before you went to open the door and saw the man you had been thinking about for a while.

You stood frozen, looking up at your unnecessarily attractive boyfriend, thinking to yourself when or where you two went wrong, well mostly you. Where you went wrong.

"Can I come in?" he said while gazing down at you, thinking the exact same thing, when did you two go wrong?

You mumbled an 'of course' before moving out of the doorway for him to get in, locking the door behind him.

He sighed then turned to look at you as you rested on the door, "I heard your conversation with Bakugou" he started but before you could apologise he pressed his finger to your lips like he was telling you to stay quiet, so you did.

"Since you don't know, I find it hard to express myself through actions because that's not the way I grew up contrary to you." he had now taking his finger away from your lips and now held your hand.

"Where you hug your mum to show her you love her, I'd tell her I love her, because that's how we are. While yours get random gifts, mine talk to each other when I successfully run away from my father."

"It's how we are, it's how you are, our differences is what brought us together, you know?" he said as his eyes went a bit glossy that's how you realised you were crying silent tears.

"I'm sorry I made you feel shitty but you make me feel shitty too you know? I feel shitty when everytime I tell you I love you you respond with a nod and nothing more, or when we walk to class together and I'm trying to tell you about my night your not listening— "but I am" — but you don't show it! How do you want me to know if I don't hear you say anything?" Both of you were now sitting on your bed you don't know how but it felt more comforting.

"Shoto baby, I'm sorry, could you forgive me?" you said looking at him after wiping your tears.

"Of course, only if you forgive me and promise you'd communicate with me more" he said laughing now, 'damn my boyfriend is quite easy on the eyes' you couldn't help but think.

"I promise but only if you promise to be more affectionate" you said while he moved closer to you.

"I promise." you said smiling wildly but surprisingly you felt lips on yours and you immediately closed your eyes and held your boyfriends gave lovingly.

When you two parted, you both just looked in each other's eyes, "I love you, Shoto Todoroki." you said while holding his hand really tight. He nodded and looked away.

You couldn't help the pang in your heart. "Is this what it feels like when I do it?" you said laughing as you moved deeper into your bed getting ready for sleep.

"Yes" he laughed as he came in with you cuddling into you causing you to smile.

"But I love you too, Y/N L/N." he said while nuzzling his face into your neck. You sighed contentedly then you were out like a light.

[midnightsimpsstuff]

WOMAN IN MY BED

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Includes: established relationships, fluff, changing into woman, suggestive content, a little ooc, written in second person, this fic takes place in third year.

Summary: Bakugou gets turned into a girl because of some random kid that you both had saved the day before. You show him how fun it is to be a girl and in other words your girlfriend.

a/n: Hey! This is my first time writing for Bakugou, so I really hope you enjoy this. By the way, this isn’t proof read and English is not my first language.

Word Count: 1.5k

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, sunlight carefully placed itself through the blinds in your dorm room and landed on the bed in which you and your boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou lay in.

You were not in the mood to stand up yet, and Katsuki for some weird reason was yet to get up from the bed for his usual early morning run, but you weren’t complaining. With a small smile on your face you snuggled deeper in your boyfriend as you spooned him.

You moved your hand up a little into his chest to pull him in closer, but you realised that the lump that was once his chest had become considerably bigger. Out of pure confusion you squeezed it and your boyfriend woke up, feeling confused. As you sat up and took a good look at him. What was this beautiful woman doing in your bed? And where was your boyfriend?

“Uhm Kats? Is that you?” you said, your voice small from just waking up, you scratched your eyes to get the sleep out of your eyes, you felt like you were still dreaming.

“Of course it’s me, what kind of question is that?” he, well she said but her voice sounded more feminine and to you a little sexy. ‘It’s not fair!’ you thought to yourself. “You might want to take a look at yourself” you said while still mesmerized by her.

He sat up and took a look at the mirror that was opposite of your bed, and he couldn’t help but scream and scurry off your bed.

“Why do I look this way?” he looked at you as he asked as if you know, he was standing now and you could take your time to admire him appropriately, his body had noticeably reduced in size and he was wearing one of his black tank tops that made him look even curvier if you might say, he was in one of his boxer shorts and he looked noticeably shorter.

His hair for some reason no more spiky but sat beautifully on his shoulders and upper back, and he seemed like he had natural mascara, ‘Totally not fair.’ you couldn’t help but think to yourself.

Your boyfriend, was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, as you were looking at him, well her, his hand began snapping in your face to make you concentrate on him, but you already were so there was no point of that anyways.

“Oh! I think it’s because of that boy we saved yesterday, he told me privately weird things happen when he uses his quirk this might be one of them.” You said shrugging as you continued to look at him.

You were no better than a man the way you watched him.

“Come back to bed, Katsuki. Let me see what we can do with this new body of yours as we still have it.” You said looking at him while licking your lips.

He blushed and although that sounded very promising, he couldn’t help but ask, “We have to find how to change me back first.” He said while looking away from you and going to look for something else for him to wear in your closet.

“He also said you would be fine in 24 hours but your very accepting of this, you know?” you said, shamefully watching him walk away. “Well sorry I also want to see what I could do now that I look like this.” he laughed as he threw his tank top that he had now removed at you.

“Oh, my boobs are bigger than yours.” He said before running into the bathroom to run away from you before you could do anything to him, but for some reason you didn’t you only hummed in agreement and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. You were whipped but luckily he was to.

Both of you had now changed into your clothes. You wore a red, baggy Hawk’s merch and a pair of sweatpants that dropped from your waist, it was Katsuki’s before he became a woman, and it gave everyone a peak of your Calvin Klein boxers. You felt like the man in the relationship so you wanted to play the part.

He wore one of your black V-necks and a low rise jean to give a beak of the black thong he wore, courtesy of you but he wanted to whether it feels as sexy as it looks.

You two had woken up earlier than the others as usual. Since, you both were too lazy you both decided opt just eat cereal for the time being and then began discussing what you were going to do for the time being.

When everyone else had woken up they were met with a sight they were sure they won’t forget. Todoroki and Kirishima were the first to come to the common room that morning.

Kirishima was planning on making a protein shake he saw online and he wanted to try and make it earlier than usual in case he failed he didn’t want people to see or for everyone to know the reason the kitchen was messed up was his fault and Todoroki happened to know how to make it so he was willing to teach him.

So you could imagine the shock on their face when instead of them meeting an empty common room they found you manspreading on the couch and a really curvy woman straddling you as you looked at her all lovey-dovey as you massaged her waist.

“Y/N, definitely not manly!” Kirishima said after he had taken a picture and sending it to Bakugou. He was at loss for words, well Todoroki was by far worse since he couldn’t even form a sentence. He didn’t take you for a cheater. Definitely not you!

“What would Bakugou say when he comes back from his run and sees you hear partaking in scandalous activities with this stranger?” Todoroki said trying to fan himself so he wouldn’t faint from shock.

Bakugou couldn’t help but smile, his friends won’t let him cheat on you. At least that’s good to know, in case of future, hopefully it won’t happen in the future.

Before he could explain himself, they all heard a ding from his pocket. He took it out to see a picture of what was happening right now but he couldn’t deny, you both looked hot. He saved it and looked behind him and turned to see the look of shock on both of your friend’s faces.

“Bakubro?” Kirishima finally let out making eye contact with the red-eyed female, it was only him and Katsuki’s mother knew that also had the striking red eyes.

“Yes, dumbass?” he said now smiling, this was so funny to him, “Oh my Mother of all things Manly, Bakubro, you make such a beautiful woman.” Kirishima couldn’t help but say, his face was a little red.

“I know.” He said while smirking, he got off your lap then took a seat on the couch, then continued you two’s conversation on who was better, Hawks or Miruko. It’s obvious who was for who.

“This is so cool, do you mind if I write this in my notebook, Kachaan?” Izuku had said to your boyfriend once you had explained the whole predicament to the class.

Once again you were confused why they were all so accepting and understanding about this, you didn’t understand how they weren’t freaking out, if you weren’t his girlfriend you know you would’ve.

Bakugou simply swatted his hand at Izuku motioning that he could do whatever he wants. Before taking you by the hand and leading you outside the building completely. You were supposed to take him to your favourite record store today, and maybe buy him a Victoria Secret lingerie and maybe a dildo….

Night time had come and he was really happy to use everything you two had bought, and now you both were doing with your scandalous activities and both just finished showering now you were cuddled up reminiscing all the things that had happened that day.

From the group of boys that couldn’t stop gawking at you both, or Hawks asking if you were truly cheating on Bakugou because he was on patrol and happened to see you kissing a girl, or the matching press ons you both got but how you removed for Katsuki because you knew he wouldn’t want to stress himself doing that before he goes on his run tomorrow as a man again.

He had requested for you to spoon him again and you obviously complied, even allowed you to put your hand under his shirt, he smiled as he heard your soft breathing indicating you had fallen asleep and he knew today was a day to remember.

[midnightsimpsstuff]

WILDLOWER

WILDFLOWER by Billie Eilish

Spencer Reid x reader

Warning: angst, hurt/comfort (promise), JJ's confession to Spencer, toxic friendship, mention of break ups, happy ending.

Summary: After JJ confesses to Spencer that she is in fact in love with him, he is stuck in a tight spot and doesn’t want the reader to find out because you never knew he liked JJ so he broke up with you with no explanation. Because you are friends with JJ you happened to go to her to cry about the breakup not knowing she’s at fault.

A/n: I found out what Wildflower by Billie Eilish was truly about and I fell in love with the idea so I wrote something with the plot, so enjoy! LOL. There might be a part two so look out for that.

Word Count: 2.3k

Comments, shares and rebloggs are appreciated! :))

Had to add the inspiration ;)

You were walking back home, and your heart was more than broken, you didn’t think anything could be worse than this. Everything was fine before Spencer had gone on that stupid case! You knew he was kidnapped during it, you knew he wouldn’t want to tell you what happened but to break up? That was too far.

You took some time of work, you couldn’t go on, not in this state, your friend JJ, who had even introduced you to Spencer was the only friend of yours that didn’t have work at that moment, she was given a leave for reasons she hadn’t told you.

That was what brought you to her couch watching rom-coms, taking tubs of ice creams at once you just finished crying your eyes out on her shoulder, when you told her about how Spencer just dumped you for absolutely no reason, you felt as she tensed up. You were no profiler but you knew that she knew why but you won’t push her to tell you, in case it was a touchy subject and she kicks you out of her house.

Meanwhile, JJ knew she had never felt more guilty in her life, not when she returned home and she had to hug her kids and sleep side by side with Will, not telling him about the case a she usually would, not when she imagined Spencer was at her side not Will, or her kids looked like Spencer or how much they loved Spencer, and she wished she had known Spencer loved her back then she knew everything would be different.

She didn’t think Spencer would break up with you, it was a life or death situation there was nothing she could do but tell him, she felt instantly better when the burden was off her shoulders, she didn’t one bit think about how it could affect him, how it could affect you.

She comforted you though, trying to take her mind away from how you would act when you find out what she said, what she did, how it was her fault, all her fault, how you didn’t deserve this. You were a perfect fit for Spencer. You let him talk without interruptions, you didn’t use him to make your work easier, you didn’t give him sneaky insults or once tell him to shut up, but she did and she didn’t deserve the kindness both of you showed her endlessly.

You had gone home around the time Will had come back from work, JJ’s face was stuck on a look of despair, she made you feel better sure but when you told her ‘Thank you so much, Jenny. You know exactly how to make me feel better, you’re an awesome person and friend. Good Night!’ she froze at the door as she closed it watching you drive away with your car.

It wasn’t fair on you, she felt like shit, Will had noticed her weird mood and tried to confront her about it but she lashed out at him and went straight to her room. Discarding the takeout that Will had gotten from her and their kids’ favourite store she couldn’t help but subconsciously think about Spencer bringing you home takeout from your favourite food store if not for her and her big mouth.

She should have never loved him in the first place, especially since she got you both together.

Spencer and JJ had returned back to work the two weeks after, everyone in the BAU saw the change in dynamic between both of them, and they noticed Spencer’s mood had ultimately dampened and his migraines weren’t the only reason.

Spencer had suffered the two weeks without you, it was just taking a break from each other, and he secretly hoped you would find out what JJ had said so you would understand that it wasn’t his fault.

Your heart would be crushed and his and your friendship would be crushed, because you would have asked him if he loves JJ back and he honestly doesn’t know. He loves her as a friend for sure but as more? He’s not sure.

He already knew he was going to go over to your place that evening and explain everything to you, he had a feeling you didn’t know if not you would have barged into here a long time ago. He knows you, you don’t know how to keep your anger in check you would have come to confront her right there right then.

He let out a soft sigh. It was lunch break now, he had already ordered the flowers you adored so much to your house. When you get back from work you would see them and when you change and get comfortable you would see him. Hopefully, you would take him back even though he knew that was unlikely he really hurt you.

As he was about to get to his seat, JJ stopped him and he couldn’t help the eye roll he did, he wasn’t on the best terms with her at the moment he was going to make up with her when he has completely made up with you.

“Spencer, I am so sorry about your breakup, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” JJ had started with not noticing how loud she had said it now everyone was listening to them but they didn’t make it obvious.

His eyebrows furrowed, not only because of her pitch but also how did she know? “How do you know, I never told anyone that-“ then it clicked. He never knew she had it in her to be this much of a bitch. But he didn’t want to jump into conclusions.

“She told you didn’t she? But did YOU tell her?” He didn’t care if anyone heard at this point he was pissed. Really? Confess your love to your friend’s boyfriend and comfort her about him.

“I am sorry about everything about everything but you know I couldn’t do that to her.” JJ looked down to the floor in shame, her eyes were watering but she knew she didn’t have the right to be crying at that moment. He couldn’t believe he thought he loved her.

He walked away from her, he looked angrier that before but that subsided when he realised he could go home. He had never done anything as fast in his life, he packed his bag, practically ran out then began driving straight to your house.

You had just arrived at home seeing a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers at your front your door you knew who it was from. You unconsciously smiled before your face dropped remembering the break up, you sighed before carrying it inside your house. Dropping it on your coffee table, you realised it had a note but you weren’t in the right frame of mind to read it yet.

You went to quickly shower, change into something by far more comfortable. Before plopping on your couch, deciding to read the note.

            Dear Y/N it was inconsiderate of me to break up with you without explaining first, I am coming over after work to explain everything to you. If you don’t want me to come over just text me. Love you, Spencer.

It wasn’t his handwriting, he must have sent it over, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Funny of him to think you still had his number.

As you began watching something on your TV, you heard your doorbell ring, you went to open it.

“Start talking bitch.”

You sat on the chair opposite Spencer, he had just finished explaining everything to you and your mouth was currently agape. You began backtracking you finally understood. That’s why her body kept going rigid.

She loved Spencer. She had a husband yet she loved Spencer. She had kids yet she loved Spencer. Spencer had a girlfriend yet she loved Spencer. Spencer’s girlfriend was someone she considered a best friend yet she loved Spencer. She was extremely beautiful, knew Spencer way longer than you and Spencer once liked her like seven years ago and now she was in love with him. Spencer is the godfather of her child and she loves him?!

You were no more shocked, the reality of the situation was dawning on you, softly laughing to yourself about everything. “You don’t love her back, right?” you didn’t know what you would do if he said he does but the moment the question came out of your mouth. Spencer shouted no so loud you flinched.

His face was now pink from embarrassment, “No, I don’t, not anymore, not again it’s just you I love and want to love.” He said meeting your eyes with a smile.

His eyes began doing that drawing in puppy dog eye thing it usually did when he wanted to get something he wanted, you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it sure felt like he did because how could you not take him back when he is doing his face that way.

You walked over to him, your face was neutral, and he didn’t know what you were going to do. When you stood beside him you held his face, caressing his skin as he looked up at you his eyes still doing the thing. You slapped him really hard, “That’s for hurting my heart for the past two weeks.” Then you crouched down to him giving him a passionate kiss. “That’s because you went out of your way to explain and apologize and because I love you.

His face still hurt but he was sincerely happier now he had you back. You went away to get your phone to send a quick message to JJ.

‘We need to talk, come over tomorrow.” you sent her. You gave your phone to Spencer so he could see the message. His face visibly tensed, “Are you ending your friendship with her?” he asked. He’d feel pretty bad, you two have always been so close.

“No, we just need to talk some things through. Don’t worry my love” you said as you took a seat in his lap and as he drew circles on your thigh.

“Should I end my friendship with her?” Spencer asked shyly, he felt like you would say no but he did really value JJ as a friend so it might hurt a bit.

“Do you want to?” you asked him, you were just playing with him finding it funny as his face began changing from thoughtful to fear. He felt like it was a trick.

He feebly nodded, you smiled “Then no, Spencer. That won’t be fair on you. You two have been friends longer than I knew you” you told him while looking at him with love.

Everything was better and looking up for you.

But with JJ she felt her heart leap out of her chest as she read your message, she just read it again and again and again. The face of Spencer’s fury and your sad face was in her head she didn’t know what to do she didn’t want to lose any of you but she knew what was coming.

She just came between a good relationship because of her stupid feelings. She would have cried even more if she wasn’t tired of crying.

After getting the message from you she got enough courage to tell Will about everything. He reacted better than she thought he would have, although he was mad. When she had assured him she doesn’t love him anymore and only loved Will. He wasn’t so mad anymore but he asked for a bit of space because the way she had been neglecting him throughout the weeks she was at home and he said it’s best she knows what it felt like a bit.

JJ without fail had come to your home the next day, immediately after work. Texting Will about where she would be. She didn’t get a response though he left her on read, but she understood she had hurt many people and it was beginning to come on her.

You opened the door smiling at her. JJ wanted to cry, why were you smiling, did you not know, did you know and weren’t angry, she doesn’t know whether you and Spencer got back together. But she knew she couldn’t take it any longer.

“Y/N, I have something to tell you…” she stated while motioning her head inside as if asking if she could come in. You moved away so she could seat in on your couch.

You already knew and you felt touched she wanted to come clean. You looked at her expectantly waiting for her to speak.

“I confessed my love to Spencer on our last case, I think that’s why you two broke up.” She was fiddling with her ring.

“I already apologized to him, and to Will and I felt it’s time to apologize to you, I don’t want to lose any of you. I am so sorry I got you two together, I am sorry I pulled you both apart, I am sorry you trusted me enough to cry to me about what happened. I don’t deserve you.”

When she finally looked up at you, she realised you didn’t look angry. “Spencer told me.” You said. She felt something in her stomach drop. “You knew the whole time?” she asked, now she felt this was a plan for you to become the next unsub.

But instead your eyes widened, “No, he told me yesterday. Relax.” You said rubbing her back.

“I forgive you don’t worry. I want my friend back. You two hugged and she held unto you tighter than she had ever done before. Spencer watched you two from the kitchen.

This is how it’s meant to be.

[midnightsimpsstuff]

A LUNATIC'S BRIDE

Summary: You are Joker's new obsession even though you truly do not want him.

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: I just imagined this as I was listening to Gangsta by Kehlani and I got an idea so I hope you guys love it.

Being Bruce Wayne's assistant had its perks, but the perks started during your third year of working with him. That included allowing you max out his card on dresses to accompany him to galas, being seen with him in public, knowing he's batman, training because in a way you are now at threat.

It was a fun lifestyle, if you remove having to drive like a lunatic when paparazzi is getting out of hand, and babysitting his adopted and biological sons when he can't take care of them; which is very weird because Dick is older than you, or waking up at early hours of the day to go to his house and make sure he gets ready then the worst of all, obsessed villains that think getting you or getting rid of you is the only way Batman would love them and you would have to show your fighting skills that is always unfair because there are always more of them than you.

But the worst of all the lunatics has to be the Joker, you were terrified of him, mainly because he loved you, almost as much as he loved his 'Batsy' and he really loved his Batsy.

A little around the time he broke up with Harley Quinn was the time you began working with Bruce, and when he saw both of you standing together he 'didn't know who to choose from' he would tell you a couple months later when he first kidnapped you.

It got to the point when he is fighting batman he would say dumb shit like "Bring our wife with you next time" which you purposely decided the fact he called you his wife and only think about the fact he also called you Bruce Wayne's wife, but he was far to old for you sadly, both of them were actually but that didn't stop you from blushing the first few times and neither did it stop Joker from flirting with you every chance he got.

Maybe it's leaving flowers with a note at your front door, flowers that have a camera inside so he can watch you from where he is. Obviously Bruce also has gotten many of them, so when he found himself at your apartment waiting for you to get ready, he told you to throw them out and when you asked why, let's just say you never accepted flowers from anyone again when you received a text message from an unsaved number asking why you threw away his love for you.

You were walking on your own a couple of months after that, on your way to the Wayne manor, it was very early and Alfred wasn't available to carry you with the limousine so you had to walk. You forgot to take your guard dog with you so you were suffering your consequences when you were dragged into an alleyway by some weirdo touching you inappropriately saying something about boss saying they should see if you're good enough.

Luckily, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had come to your rescue, immediately killing the man and befriending you but what Harley had told you was by far scarier than the sad predicament you just got into, "Girl, you have to protect yourself more, you know you are now the lunatic's bride. He might love you as much as he love his batsy."

You thanked them before rushing to work, this time in a cab, now with a borrowed gun from Ivy just incase the driver is also a worker from the Joker.

You were undeniably late for the day, you were supposed to wake up Bruce Wayne with Alfred as you brief him with what he is supposed to do and help him get dressed.

But when you had came, he was still in a towel, luckily done having his bath but not dressed, saying something about waiting for you because you always make him look his best.

As you were getting him ready, you two engaged in the short conversations you would usually have, and you realise it was your mistake entirely when you had spilled to Bruce about what had happened that morning and you knew it even more when you had to attend to Bruce's injuries from when he went to beat up Joker and felt worse when he had kidnapped you and beat you up the same way Batman had beat him. Although he tended to your scars after it didn't make it any better, especially because he wasn't being careful because you never told him where Harley was.

When Nightwing had come to save you, you were a shaking mess, he was happy you looked better than his brother did but he knew you were going to be scarred for life with what just happened, after beating up the Joker's henchmen he went away with you crying in his arms saying something about wanting to quit.

He reassured you all would be fine, but you both knew you weren't sure about it but you allowed him deceive you as you both scaled buildings before you finally found yourself in your home, still terrified and shaking you begged him to stay with you.

And you looked so shakined up that he couldn't refuse, that's when you both realised you had a lot in common and you two learned to enjoy each other's company.

Bruce let you take a break because he felt truly sorry for you and all the sixty days of that break you spent it with Dick, realising how fun he truly could be, simply enjoying you boths company.

He told you about his long-distance open relationship wife, Starfire, and you told him about the fact you don't date just fuck around from time to time.

That was the day you both first had sex with each other, it was great you'd both tell each other the next day, but when you find out Joker kidnapped Nightwing and tortured him a bit before Dick found a way to escape you both knew you could never do that again, but that didn't stop you.

You became even stronger by time went by, you and Dick began dating along the way, you felt bad for his wife that was on another planet entirely but when you finally met her she told you that it was perfectly fine that she was happy for you both.

But she had kissed you which was really weird but you found out it's just her way of communication and you had to fight the urge to not ask her to do it again because your dating her husband but when she kissed you again you knew your life was just crazy.

Joker kidnapped you that very day Starfire went back to her planet after you guy's platonic make out session and put laughing gas on you as he forcefully made out with you, he tried to rape you that very moment, he had began laying hickeys when Batman and Robin had come in and began beating him and his henchmen up.

Damian recognised you immediately and felt sympathy for one of the first times in his life, you didn't deserve this, his baby sitter, his kind of sister-in-law and his friend he brutally killed most of the henchmen leaving the others hurt.

Batman would scold him later that they were heroes and heroes don't kill, he wouldn't listen, throw in a "They deserved it" and go upstairs.

As your at home trying to heal, Harley and Ivy would come over and let you cry on their shoulders, you couldn't bring it in you to see Dick, but he understood.

Harley helped you get rid of the hickeys that had decided to not go, that reminded you of the pain you had just felt and you all would hug then cuddle while licking ice cream and watching a rom-com.

When you finally gained the courage to see Dick he engulfed you in a big hug and said he wasn't mad that it wasn't your fault, and it would make all the tears come back to you and he would comfort you to sleep before giving you hickeys of his own to help you forget.

Later on you would find out Bruce had sex with the Joker to get him off your tail it had worked and the Joker stopped disturbing you for such a long time that Dick was able to propose to you and you two were engaged when Joker came looking for you again.

This time you were ready though, as he tried to kidnap you with his disguises you shot him and walked away. Joker obviously didn't die but he knew he had ruined you for life and that was all he truly wanted.

For you to be ruined, for you to be corrupted and destroyed by him, and he laughed as his henchmen patched him off and he laughed when he got a life sentence for all the shit he had put you through.

He ended up escaping jail, of course he did but he never disturbed you again but he knew you would never forget him ever in your life.

And that was all he wanted, for his bride to be a lunatic, he gifted you flowers on your wedding day. Flowers that you burnt and you didn't know he was watching you burn them with a smile on your face but a smile on his face too. He had finally gotten what he wanted.

As he opened a random creepy book of his that he was gifted. "Burning flowers, a sign of love and devotion" he knew he had won, he knew he had gotten everything he could have ever wanted.

The good part of you.

[midnightsimpsstuff]

A LOVERBOY'S CATASTROPHE

Warnings: none its just fluff lol

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on you for a while, with the help of Morgan and Garcia he summed up the courage to ask you out what happens if you already had plans either a potential significant other?

a/n: this is my first time writing on tumblr and maybe my love for spencer just brought me to write this I actually don't know but please enjoy regardless. If you like the book please like and reblogg if possible

Word count: 2.6k

It was going to be a busy day for you, so you had woken up a bit earlier than usual and went to work by far earlier than you would have on a normal day.

Paperwork littered your table, mainly because you shot the unsub from your last case partly because you procrastinated to the other ones that were all due this evening.

So when you rushed into the bullpen taking a seat at your desk, with your signature Scooby-Doo coffee mug filled with coffee with a little to much sugar. You were by far to busy to notice Spencer at his table looking absolutely petrified to see you here by this time.

Spencer is your bestfriend, but to him you are his crush, so far the biggest one he has ever had. What attracted him to you wasn't just your looks, it was mainly about personality, he wouldn't have loved you if he wasn't your best friend and that made it by far worse because he doesn't know what to say in the speech he planned on telling you when he finally wants to confess

And the early mornings when it's just him, Hotch and Rossi were the perfect times to plan what he would say, they were the perfect times to deceive himself that today would be the day he would tell you, he never did.

But today he was so sure of it and due to the peptalking from Garcia and Morgan the day prior he was sure he could do this, he was sure he would do this.

It wasn't easy when he saw you pass by the front door, he began rethinking all his previous choices and he knew this was the universe giving him a chance, he could just talk to you now and if you reject him, nobody would be around to see and hopefully you two could just go back to normal.

He thought it through and began muttering under his breath what he planned on saying to you but when he was just about to get to your table, your phone rang and he felt his heart deflate when he thought he saw "Boo 💕" as the contact name.

He didn't know you had a boo, and it made him feel bad that he didn't know and he is your best friend. It made him feel worse when he realised what he was about to do, but he couldn't help himself but listen into your conversation, his brain tried telling him it could just be a misunderstanding.

'Hey bae' you had said and he was sure he had never felt his heart break in that manner before in his life.

'Yeah, I am totally free this night, why?'

...

'Of course! You don't even have to ask you know you are the love of my life' you had said completely oblivious to the fact Spencer was right there while he was getting his eyes getting teary when you said 'love of my life'

...

'Don't worry, you don't have to tell me, you know I'd wear something cute' he couldn't help himself but think about the fact he wouldn't care if you look good or not. That he is obviously the better choice.

....

'Yes, for your eyes only.' he watched you have a jittery smile before you said something about having to get back to work then ending the call with a smile on your face.

And that's when you finally realised the figure hovering above your table, and you greeted him with a smile that once brightened his day but now shun to mock him.

"Hey Spence, need something? The way you're looking at me is a little creepy" you said, but your smile had now dropped a little as you noticed his eyes looked like he was about to cry.

"No, I don't just came over to say hi" his voice had betrayed him a bit he sounded a little to icy, it wasn't your fault you got yourself a date with your secret significant other the day he was meant to ask you out.

Your face looked confused and a little hurt as he walked away which made him feel a little guilty but he couldn't do anything about it but hope that you'd understand when he apologises and makes a lie about why he acted like that towards you.

But it won't be today, he just can't face you or the embarrassment today, he'd try on Monday, because today was Friday and it hurt him even more thinking about it because he knew it was Friday and he had a lot planned, because Friday is the best day to ask someone on a date because there are a lot to do.

As he finished up his paperwork and more people began entering the bullpen, he couldn't help but feel a little irritated, he knew you didn't like showing your body off, he knew if you ever went on a date you would prefer it at one of you both's houses not at a cafe, or fancy restaurant, and he knew you didn't like when people that aren't your boss tell you what to do, you can allow it if needed but being told to wear something cute to a date was not needed.

He felt really bad of thinking of another man's girlfriend in such a manner, he knows he wouldn't like it if someone thought of his girlfriend, if he had one, in this manner but he didn't care, it just wasn't fair.

Morgan had looked over to his desk and couldn't help but feel a little bit sad on his behalf the little frown on his face was enough to show he didn't get that date he wanted and Morgan began feeling a little guilty because in a way it was his fault, if he hadn't encouraged him he would have never gotten his heart broken. He made a silent note in his mind to make it up to him before walking over to Hotch's office like he originally planned to.

The rest of the day went by quickly but Spencer had ignored you the whole day, your snarky remarks during meetings he didn't laugh at one like he usually would, during lunch you offered to go to you both's favourite cafe with him and he declined, you even tried offering him a ride home but he declined that too and you wondered why because he was just asking Emily if she could give him a ride and she said she couldn't and both of you guys apartment's are on the way of each other's that's when you felt you had done something wrong and you decided to find out later but that would be after your little meet up with one of your female bestfriends from college.

( ´_ゝ`)

Spencer had spent a couple of hours binge watching Doctor Who and Star Wars while eating chocolate ice cream. He read somewhere that watching his favourite shows and eating good ice cream could make someone feel better during heartbreak.

At one point he just accepted his fate, you two were not meant to be, that's why the universe made you his best friend and not his lover. He could just hope you're alright and the guy wasn't a douche but part of him realise you two could be fucking or making out and he decided to stop thinking about it all together.

He had gone to the fridge to get more ice cream when he heard the doorbell ring. His eyebrows furrowed, he wasn't expecting anyone and it was around 2am, who's coming to his house at 2am? He checked the fish hole to see who it was incase it was a new unsub and he would be the first victim.

But when he was met with your face in a black satin dress that looked beautiful on you but most of it was covered by a jacket, he completely forgot himself as he admired you, when he noticed you were shivering as you rung the doorbell again he flung open the door.

You looked absolutely tired, and Spencer had to rush you in and sit you on his couch before going to get some ice cream for you because you were showing signs the date didn't go so well.

When he put the ice cream in your hand, you were yawning and accepted it with a smile, muttering something about not wanting to disturb him.

"Nonesense, you could never disturb me, did the date not go well?" He said while looking at you with care, he would have touched you but you low-key smell of alcohol like you weren't drinking it but everyone around you had been and he wasn't going to contact any germ just because of friendship.

He watched your smile go down as you said, "Date? What date?" you looked so confused that it made him feel like such an idiot and that's saying something because he is in fact not one in the slightest.

He decided to say the little secret he was keeping from you from this morning, "I heard you accepting to go on a date with your boo, or love of your life as you called them" he watched you laugh and he felt even more embarrassed when you had said.

"That's not my actual boo, that's my friend Betty from college, we all call her boo, she asked me to go with her to the club because she wanted to try one night stands again and she knows I don't drink so she invited me so she could be safe."

You watched as his mouth formed into an "oh" and you let out a short laugh before speaking again "Besides if I had a boo do you think I won't tell you?" you watched him shake his head as if to say no.

"Is that why you were acting weird all day, because you thought I had a lover and didn't tell you?" you had taken a spoon of ice cream and now the faint scent of alcohol from you was now smelling like ice cream, Spencer's favourite ice cream and he didn't care anymore, he was going to tell you.

"No, it's because I wanted us to do something together—" he started "but you could have gone to our cafe with me?" you had interrupted and he would not think it's fair if you reject him after calling a cafe 'our' cafe. "—please don't interrupt me (you muttered a sorry) — I didn't want to go because you were offering to go as my bestfriend" he watched you eyebrows furrowed in confusion before they relaxed again like you understood and that's when he knew there was no going back.

"What do you mean Spence? Did you want to be my-" and you had never felt better, he feels the same "Did you want to ask me on a date, is that why you were standing in front of my table this morning?" Spencer knew the smile on your face was a good sign so he nodded.

Before he could understand anything, your lips were on his, and he actually forgot how to function before he could kiss you back, he tasted the chocolate ice cream and a bit of alcohol from your tongue it got him even more interested he pulled you unto his lap and the kiss had gotten he steamier and although Spencer felt like he could not breathe he kept it to himself because he never wanted this moment to end.

You pulled away from the kiss and Spencer chased your lips and pulled you into another one before you pulled away again, your face felt unbelievably hot. "Spence, I have always wanted to go on a date with you and I never thought you'd feel the same way, I have always wanted to call you mine." you smiled at him.

"Can I be yours?" Spencer said as he looked into your eyes and you finally understood what that glint in his eye was, it was longing.

"Of course" you had said before you both continued kissing, well making out before Spencer helped you change into some clothes of yours he has at his house and you both slept off while cuddling into the later moments in the day.