Reblogged
you're in the wind, i'm in the water nobody's son, nobody's daughter.
Reblogged
𝒢o to sleep 〳 Jacaerys Velaryon
◟ content ! ୧ babbling to your husband before sleep
𝒪ver the year you've shared a bed with him , you have learned every habit that helps Jacaerys sleep.
The slow circles against the nape of his neck. The absentminded twirling of the short curls hidden beneath his hair. The gentle weight of your hand resting there until the tension finally leaves his shoulders.
And tonight is no different. His breathing deepens , the lines of responsibility easing from his face as sleep gradually claims him.
Beyond the narrow windows , the sea rolls endlessly against Dragonstone's black cliffs. Every wave breaks with the same patient rhythm , the sound carrying through ancient stone until it becomes part of the castle itself. Salt lingers in the air despite the shuttered windows , mingling with melted wax and smoke from the dying candles.
A great foundation to get lulled to sleep.
But no , unfortunately for your husband , you are still awake.
"Jace." A noise that is half agreement and half sleep follows the call of his name , and so you continue , "i think i would greatly miss the sea."
The sheets shuffle beside you as Jacaerys rolls onto his back , smacking his lips as if to will the lingering drowsiness away. To properly engage in a conversation (even if he wants nothing less than find rest) , as his wife deserve nothing less. Yet , he keeps his eyes close. And your hand doesn't slip from his neck as he does , lingering in a way that is familiar , and warm.
"You say that every time we're away from Dragonstone ," he finally notes. He doesn’t understand where your longing words for the sea are coming from , and he doesn’t pry. Perhaps it is merely sleepy delusion. Because you are at Dragonstone , you are at the sea , as it is right outside these walls.
There is nothing to be missed here.
You are home , you're with him.
So instead , he melts back into the pillows , comforted by your gentle touch and surrendering to finally let the dragging day come to an end , so that one will start anew with more duty , more war … , but also more you.
Yet every crash against the cliffs tugged strangely at your chest , as though the sea was calling from somewhere much farther away than Dragonstone's shore.
"I know." Silence settles again.
This time , it lasts almost a full minute. Enough to make his breath even out , to let him believe that you finally found sleep as well. He curls around you like a Dragon , nose brushing against the side of your face to keep close , and warm…
Then — "Jace ?"
Oh , how he adores you. Even when you steal his rare moments of rest just to converse with him a bit longer. "Hm ?"
"Have you ever been scared of the sea ?"
Ah , again with the sea. This time your question is enough to have him blink open his eyes , glazed with sleep and searching yours with a bit of confusion.
"...Not really ," he answers lightly , and this time his hand shifts to cradle the back of your neck too , mindlessly twirling the short hairs like you do him. He hopes it soothes you to finally let conversation fall away , and to let sleep win.
"Not even in storms ?"
This one he considers a bit longer. Then , he shrugs , huffing a sleepy laugh , barely more than an exhale.
"If I ever end up in the sea, it'll be because I've done something spectacularly stupid."
You consider his answer for a moment , and yet it doesn't comfort you at all.
Because it's such a Jace answer. Your Jace , firstborn son of Rhaenyra , fierce , kind , and spectacularly stupid when it comes to protecting what's his. You know him well enough to understand that it's a lingering fear of loosing someone close to him. Like Lucerys. And that he'd rather it was him in that storm than his little brother.
"I would jump in after you," you say , fierce gaze meeting his , "I would bring you home."
"No, you won't." 'Won't' , not 'wouldn't'.
"I absolutely will."
A soft patient sigh as he cradles your jaw , thumb brushing your cheekbone with so much devotion you almost yield. Almost.
"If I'm in the water , my love , the sensible thing is to stay on the ship ," he hums , readjusting himself yet again , trying to gently direct you deeper into soft sheets. His eyes close again when you don't fight him , and you're both just tangled limbs and lingering warmth , "t' stay alive ."
You wrinkle your nose.
He knows you do , even when he can't see. Because he knows you.
"I'd still come after you ," you mutter , much softer this time , and he hopes that it's a sign you're slowly surrendering to his warmth, "i wouldn't just leave you , Jace."
"I know ," he hums , and you feel his hand curl the locks at the back of your neck again , gently breathing you in as he also becomes more silent , "i know you would."
Then , "but we're not at the sea , my love. We're home , and we're safe..."
Another wave struck the cliffs below. Far enough away to sound gentle. Close enough to shake the silence.
And this time you don't fight him , and his attempt to get you to sleep. You press your forehead against his arm , and he rests his chin on top of your head with a satisfied sigh.
It's warm , and it's safe , and suddenly you're much sleepier than moments before.
A few seconds pass.
"...Jace ?"
He doesn't answer this time. He's finally asleep.
You smile into the darkness , listening to the sea outside , and letting it finally lull you to sleep , surrounded by the warmth of your husband. In which neither of you imagine there would come a day when its waves would carry away more than lost boots ...
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 i'm coping (╥﹏╥)
swinging by!
peter swings you around the city for the first time!
a/n: hi hi here is another peter drabble :P i hope u guys enjoy !! hopefully its not ooc gulp … i love writing for him hehe :3 lmk what u guys think !!! (also send in any requests u might have :D)
tags/warnings: fluff !! no spoilers for bnd :3
“and you’re sure you can carry me in one arm?” you ask apprehensively, staring over the edge of your apartment building before clutching onto your lover tighter.
“‘course i can!” you hear the smile in his voice. you turn to face him, worry painting your features. “sweetheart i promise i won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
you bite your bottom lip, thinking for a second before shuffling closer to him. peter instantly pulls you in by your waist, nestling your body against his with a smile under the mask.
“ready?” he asks you, knowing you most definitely were not.
“are you sure your webs are strong enough for two people? i mean this is new organic web and-” your ramblings are cut short by Peter placing one finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him and not the skyline.
Reblogged
request . getting in a fight with ruthie while secretly dating rafe an: will admit i dont think this is my best of piece of work yet sorry guys!
sometimes you hated hanging out with the kooks. frankly you only ever did for the camerons (especially rafe) & maybe if you were feeling generous on the day, to admit topper too. but everyone else was insufferable as hell. kelce was tolerable sometimes but ruthie? impossible. maybe it was her snark or the way she was just irritating, no matter all the redeeming you tried to give her, she failed.
you were sitting beside rafe, both of you tanning on the beach, with topper, kelce, ruthie & the others going out to shore, all screaming while they surfed. rafe was gently kissing your neck while you playfully swatted him away incase the kooks saw, when a familiar run-down looking van pulled into view.
the twinkie.
you felt your heart drop to your stomach and your pants. rafe, noticing your tension, scanned your face, "baby, what is it?"
"i don't want you to get ..." there was no point explaining when rafe turned, but he seemed unbothered as he looked straight to the main trio who were already surfing. you were hoping they would get the hint & go to the furthest part of the beach, but no. the twinkie was coming right at you.
the iron grate of the chamber hearth glowed orange, casting long, flickering shadows over the dragonstone table where the painted map sat covered in wax seals and wooden markers. outside, the narrow sea beat relentlessly against the basalt cliffs, carrying the bitter salt air through the stone corridors.
you sat beside jace at the high table of the council chamber, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the carved ridges of the dragonmont on the painted wood. the room reeked of beeswax, parchment, and old tallow candles.
"a raven arrived from duskendale before dawn," rhaenyra said, her voice echoing in the vast, vaulted room. she wore a gown of heavy black velvet trimmed in dark fur, her silver-gold hair braided tightly around her head like a crown. "lord darklyn reaffirms his oath, yet the gullet remains open to strike. the sea snake's fleet cannot hold the strait alone."
"then let me mount silverwing and fly to high tide," you said, your voice cutting through the heavy quiet of the lords gathered in the shadows. "a single sweep along the coast would deter any triarchy sails creeping north."
jace’s hand immediately caught your wrist under the lip of the table, his grip firm and warm.
"no, haedar," jace said, his tone clipped for the ears of the council, though his thumb stroked the inner pulse of your wrist beneath his tunic sleeve. "the skies over the bay are treacherous, and the greens have eyes upon every cloud. my betrothed remains within the keep."
"jace, i am no bird to be caged in a rookery," you whispered back, leaning toward him so only he could hear. "i am a dragonrider of house targaryen and velaryon just as you, let me be useful to our mother’s claim ."
"and you are to be my wife," jace murmured, turning his head so his dark eyes locked onto yours, blazing with a stubborn, fierce protectiveness. "luke’s blood is scarcely dry upon the waters of shipbreaker bay. do you think i would risk the septons reading our vows over an empty cloak?"
rhaenyra stepped up to the table, her rings clinking against the markers as she swept a hand across the narrow sea. "jacaerys speaks with my authority. the greens seek to bleed us, y/n. they wish to draw our blood into the open air where vhagar stalks. you shall not mount your saddle until the council deems it wise."
she stepped closer, her expression softening into something raw and maternal. rhaenyra reached out, laying her palm against your cheek, her skin smelling of lavender water and iron. "you are the light left in this dark hall. jace needs your counsel here, at his side, not your ashes in the sea."
after the council was dismissed, the heavy oak doors thuffed shut, leaving only you and jace in the quiet, fire-lit room.
jace slid his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you back against his chest until you felt the solid thump of his heart against your shoulders. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, exhaling a long, shuddering breath that warmed your skin.
"forgive my harsh tongue before the lords, my sweet haedar," he muttered against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below your ear. "i cannot bear the thought of you soaring beyond the gates. when i look at the sky now, i see only terror."
"jace..." you murmured, turning in his embrace to face him, resting your hands against the rough wool of his doublet.
"stay with me in the keep," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands sliding down to rest securely at the small of your back. "let the sea and the war wait outside the gates tonight. iksan eðīnas—i am yours. just stay with me."
SNOW LONG LONDON | HJP X F!READER
the first time it snows, you don’t realize what it is.
grimmauld place is cold in a way that feels permanent. the kind of cold that seeps into the walls and settles there, like it’s part of the house itself. even the fire in the drawing room never really warms it. it just makes the shadows move.
you’re sitting on the windowsill in sirius’s old bedroom, knees pulled to your chest, watching the street outside. number twelve is quiet. it always is. a dead end of gray brick and suspicion.
then something moves.
tiny white flecks drift past the window, slow and clumsy, like they’re unsure of where they’re meant to land.
you frown.
for a second, you think it’s ash. grimmauld place feels like the sort of house that would shed itself like that.
you press your hand to the glass.
“harry?” you call, not turning around. “is london… supposed to do that?”
there’s a pause behind you. then footsteps. then harry leans beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he peers out the window.
he squints.
“…oh.”
oh?
“what?” you ask.
his mouth curves, just slightly. it’s not the kind of smile he’s been wearing much lately — it’s softer. surprised.
“it’s snowing,” he says.
you blink. “snow?”
he nods. “yeah. i mean— properly, i think.”
you’ve heard of snow. of course you have. books mention it like it’s something obvious. christmas cards show it piled neatly on rooftops. but you’ve never seen it yourself. never lived anywhere cold enough. never stayed long enough.
you watch another flake hit the glass, melting into nothing.
“it’s just… falling?” you say.
harry huffs out a quiet laugh. “yeah. that’s sort of the point.”
ten minutes later, you’re halfway down the stairs, tugging your jumper on over your head, fingers clumsy with excitement.
“you can’t just go outside,” molly calls from the kitchen. “it’s freezing!”
“i won’t be long!” you promise, already pulling your coat on.
harry is waiting by the door, scarf looped wrong around his neck, watching you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.
“you ready?” he asks.
you nod too fast.
the door creaks open.
cold air rushes in, sharp and clean and nothing like the dust-filled chill of the house. it bites at your cheeks immediately, stealing your breath.
and there it is.
snow blankets the pavement in uneven patches, thin but unmistakably real. it clings to the iron railings, gathers on the steps, softens the sharp edges of the street. more flakes drift down from the sky, lazy and quiet.
your breath fogs in front of you.
“harry,” you whisper.
he watches your face instead of the snow.
you step out onto the stoop, boots crunching softly. you crouch, gloved hands scooping some up. it’s lighter than you expect. colder too. it melts instantly against your skin, leaving your palms wet and numb.
you laugh.
it slips out of you before you can stop it — a real laugh, bright and startled and so unlike the quiet you’ve been carrying lately.
harry freezes.
then he smiles.
it’s full this time. unguarded.
“you like it?” he asks.
you nod, holding your hands out as if they might catch more. “it’s— it’s alive. it’s like the sky is giving us something.”
he snorts. “only you would say that about snow.”
you stand there until your fingers sting, until your nose goes numb, until harry gently grabs your wrists and tugs your hands back toward your chest.
“okay,” he says softly. “you’re going to lose circulation.”
inside, the house feels darker than before. heavier. like it noticed your absence and resents it.
later, you’re wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, a mug of tea warming your hands. harry sits close enough that your knees touch.
“thanks,” you say quietly.
“for what?”
“for telling me what it was.”
he shrugs, but his ear tips pink. “yeah. well. everyone should see snow at least once.”
you glance at him. “have you?”
he hesitates. “yeah. a few times.”
“was it like this?”
he thinks. “no.”
“no?”
he shakes his head. “it was always… lonely. before.”
you lean into his shoulder without thinking. he stiffens for half a second, then relaxes, his arm coming around you like it’s always belonged there.
outside, the snow keeps falling.
and for the first time since arriving at grimmauld place, the world feels quiet in a way that doesn’t hurt.
Reblogged
i really like the idea of a jealous Harvey Specter that won't admit he's jealous
and you make the mistake of telling him where your date is taking you for dinner, only for him to turn up with a date and get a table within earshot
Just loudly bragging to said date (or Mike, maybe he brought Mike) about his latest wins
Sadly, one of these wins catches the ear of your date, who is actually impressed, and twists around to make conversation with Harvey
And then you're just in a staring contest with Harvey, trading shielded barbs and entendres and doing your best to keep your cool
you fail miserably
both of you do, in fact
but the next morning at the office he's all boastful smiles in the face of your foul mood
And in the wake of you snapping at him, he grabs your hand to keep you from leaving his office, holds your eye, and swears, "If you and I were out, it would take a helluva lot more than some loudmouth to tear my attention away from the most beautiful woman in the room."
And it takes you aback. You can't breathe for a moment. But you finally manage:
"So you admit that you're a loudmouth?"
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rafeslvbug-deactivated20250908
HAPPY EVER AFTER
pairing: (christian bale) bruce wayne x reader x spiderman!rafe
content: you’re stuck between bruce and rafe, unable to choose between the two. when they’re interested in finding out who the other is, or proving they’re better than the other, you’re forced to come to terms with the situation you’re in.
w/c: 3.24k
warnings: brief smut (p in v, oral f receiving) not detailed, implied stalking
“so what did you think of the dinner?” bruce asked, looking down at you while your arm was hooked through his. he led you through the hall of the restaurant to the parking lot, to the car he drove you here in. expensive, luxurious, more than your pay check from the last seven years combined. “i thought it was nice, kinda lavish,” you flush, hugging his arm fractionally tighter against the cold. he glances back briefly at the crowded tables you’ve just walked through; he got you a place in a private area, it was fairly easy, after all, he owns the place. “well i thought you deserved nothing less.” his words never fail to make your cheeks redden, charismatic and a smooth charmer, the daring type you’re a sucker for.
the parking lot is quiet, he opens the passenger door for you first but doesn’t let you in right away, leaning against the entrance. “does this mean you’d be up for another date?” you smile, slip your shoulder bag down your arm and about to put it into your hand but bruce takes it into his own, a subtle gesture, or perhaps a pending ransom. “it’s not that easy…” you sigh, and bruce tuts. nods his head. “right..of course, the mystery other man. is he that good?” he tilts his head at you, purses his lips together. “maybe..” you tease and he slowly takes it in. small smirk on his face. “alright. guess i’ll just have to prove i’m better.”
you weren’t aware of when the competition began. it was all in bruce’s head, the way his smile turned cocky in his fancy sports car, and he said you could ride it later on, or if you were lucky, you could try the batmobile. subtle flexes to remind you that he wasn’t an ordinary man– he was batman. the dark knight, gotham’s famous superhero.
gravel crunches under tires as wayne manor comes into sight. you never fail to be amazed by it, for your mouth to part slightly in surprise; bruce always chuckles, turning the car off and leaving you to marvel as he makes his way around the front to the passenger side. you don’t register when the door opens, just hear his velvet-smooth voice in your ear. “you going to stare all night, or do you want to go inside?”
“in..inside sounds good,” you say distantly, and his hand slips between your thighs, dragging down to pull your leg out of the car and his other hand grabbing yours to gently tug you out. his arm wraps around your waist, he shuts the door and leads you up the path. the mansion was as grand inside as it was outside. winding staircases, that bruce pulled you up. he caught your lingering looks through to the library, and study, and drew your attention away with a, “how about i give you a proper house tour in the morning?”
“you said that last time,” you murmur, craning your neck further back as the steps lead you away from the entry to the elegant rooms. you huff, pout and quicken your pace to catch up to him. “well maybe this time you’ll stay long enough..”
“maybe,” you smile, pausing to slip your hight heels off so you can pad up the stairs barefoot. bruce extends his hand to take them from you, hooking his fingers through the backs to hold them.
his bedroom, you’ve found is just as extravagant as every other room in his house, though you’ve never had much time to appreciate it with your eyes screwed shut and moans escaping your lips. you’re pressed against the door, tugging down his tie, and hastily pulling off his blazer. he undoes his own buttons, then swiftly tugs your dress zip down like a man who’s had years of experience. his mouth never leaves yours. not once. tongue swirling against your own, lips swollen, body hot. he wastes little time in slipping your dress off your shoulders, or into pulling your panties off to the side, easing himself into you with a tantalisingly slow pace. his face spreads into a cocky grin, while you whimper against his lips, hands trying to find purchase against his muscles.
your thighs are sore, tangled in his sheets, tucked into the crook of his arm; bruce is propped against the headboard, grinning down at you. “morning..” raising your head, messy hair, to look at him, you smile. “morning bruce,” you sigh sleepily, turning your head to check the clock on the bedside table. “oh no no no,” he chuckles, stretching out his arm to cover the time before you can get a glimpse. “bruce, i’m not gonna be late for work,” you whine, trying to pull his arm down but why would you even try? it’s batman, not the average guy. he’s unmoving, until you sag against him again. “you’ve got an hour.” he threads his fingers through your tangled hair, undoing the knots one by one. “i’ll drive you?” you snort, “right because bruce wayne dropping me off at my studio definitely won’t cause a scandal.”
“it’ll be fine.”
“they’ll ask me to get an interview with you, and all but interrogate me,” you grumble. bruce doesn’t mind it; the media, or others, knowing you’re with him. in fact, he thinks it’s the perfect message to send to his so-called competition. mystery man who he can’t find anything on. “sounds great.”
“for you, maybe.”
“not for you?” he quirks up an eyebrow. “no,” you deadpan. you’d hate to think of the a million ways the other journalists in the newsroom finding out you have something with the bruce wayne could go. it’d make work hell, if it wasn’t already. “you don’t want a lift then?” he asks. “..no i do..just park somewhere we can’t be seen?” you plead, and he purses his lips into a tight smile, like he’s deciding if he should be offended, or just take it. “alright then,” he agrees. “though– actually, i wonder if i dropped you off..would mystery man see?” he tilts his head down at you, and you scoff, pushing off his chest. your legs dangle off the bed as you sit on the edge, stopped from going any further by his arm, weighing you down to the mattress. “does it matter?”
“it does.”
“why?”
“because i want to meet him,” he says bluntly, making no effort to hide his intrigue. “hm..maybe you shouldn’t drop me off, after all,” you decide, and bruce exhales out his nose, evidently annoyed a little bit. “no–no, i’ll drop you off. and i won’t look for mystery man.” you smile. “it’s okay, you wouldn’t find him anyways.” you know it must drive him crazy– saying that. it makes it all the more fun for you.
…
you adjust your bag on your shoulder, fighting against the wind of queens on your way home. “want a lift?” a voice sounds out through the night quiet above you. you freeze, a knowing smile spreading across your face. spinning on your heel, you look up at the mystery man. his legs dangle off the edge of an apartment balcony, eyes narrow as they watch you below.
spiderman. or, should you say, rafe.
“no…not particularly, don’t feel like getting hair in my face,” you refuse, but stand there anyways. he huffs, hops off the balcony and lands on the ground next to you, switching easily into a leisured walk beside you. “or vomiting up your food,” he shrugs. “i only did that the first time,” you grumble, letting him pull you into a secluded alley.
“fine then,” his voice is muffled when he rips off his mask, face breaking into a grin, hair ruffled and sticking up in messy spikes. “i’ll walk you home.” he delves into a backpack he left behind in the corner, pulling out a grey t-shirt which he tugs over his head after removing his suit down to the waist. your eyes drift over his abs, defined muscles stretching out the sleeves, and rafe’s not stupid enough to miss it. “lovin’ the show, huh?” he teases, taking his suit off the whole way, and changing into a pair of jeans, and trainers. “yeah..pretty good,” you mutter, teeth sinking into your lips. rafe stuffs his suit into his bag, slinging it over his back, and lacing his fingers through yours.
“how’s work?” he pulls you closer into his side. “we really doing this?” he raises an eyebrow at you, squeezing your hand. “doing what?”
“small talk,” you chuckle. “it’s not us, i don’t like it.” rafe laughs, though he agrees. “alright..let’s talk about something else…like the guy who dropped you off yesterday.” you sigh, long and exaggerated. “god not this again.” rafe’s brows furrow. “we’ve never spoken about this before..at least not much.”
“no! not you, the other guy’s a little invested,” you mutter, thinking of the amount of times bruce spoke about rafe yesterday alone. and this morning. and the past few weeks. “well i’m not jealous,” rafe reassures you. “we’re…open. or flexible, i dunno, whatever you wanna call it.” he waves his hand vaguely. silence passes between you two before he speaks up again. “but seriously, you spend the night with him?”
“he took me on a date,” you admit, and rafe lets out a low whistle. “whereabouts?”
“someplace..he knows the owner..” you say, not mentioning that he is the owner; rafe probably already knows this. he knows more than bruce does. he always has. “ah, i see.” rafe smiles at you, turning the corner on the street, trailing you along. “gonna go on another?”
“he asked..” rafe glances back at you. “and you said…”
“it was complicated.” he hums, “that it is.”
“you seem iffy about it.. ” you note, though it’s stupid. they’re both a bit tentative with the situation, neither wanting to lose you. it was painful that you met them at the same time, worse that you couldn’t make your mind up. “my place?” he asks, and you nod, letting him lead you down the pavement to an evidently more luxurious set of apartment blocks. he doesn’t answer your question, not until you’re both inside. not until you’ve gone through the elevator, and are standing by the door to his condo. not when you actually begin to believe he’s ignored the matter.
“of course i’m bein’ a bit weird about it,” he mutters, entering the spacious apartment. he shrugs off his jacket, lays it across the back of a chair. “i don’t exactly like sharing you.” you set your bag down on the kitchen counter, slip off your heels. pad across the floor towards him. “you don’t?” heaving out another sigh, he turns to face you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “of course i don’t. you’re a wonderful girl..and i’m not surprised i’m not the only guy..” you run your nails down his arm, fidgety. “you annoyed i can’t pick?”
“naturally,” he mumbles. “but then again, it’s no ordinary man, huh? i s’pose bruce wayne would make anyone doubt themselves.” your heart flutters, but you knew rafe knew. he’d never outright said his name before, but you knew.
“so tell me..” rafe’s fingers slip under your coat lapel in order to slip the item off your shoulders, nearly letting it fall to the ground before webs shoot out, sticking it to the hanging rack. “how much better is this guy than me?” he begins to pluck off your blouse buttons one by one. “seems like you do care,” your say unsteady, voice slightly shaky. “okay..i do..answer the question.”
“he’s good..i wouldn’t say he’s better per say, but everyone’s got their strengths.” he grabs ahold of your shoulders, guides you backwards towards the bed. “is that so..like what?” he lays you down, leaving lingering kisses from the dip in your chest up the column of your throat. “i don’t know how to explain it..” he plants a kiss that hits a sensitive spot, causing you to sharply gasp. “try.”
“he’s this..guarded type of rich..untouchable, and out of touch.” you thread your fingers through rafe’s hair. “and you– you’re..rich too, but you’re more grounded, you know?”
“neighbourhood spiderman,” he mutters, sucking and biting on your neck, leaving pinkish marks. you let out a mix between a whimper and moan, gripping his hair tighter. “right…i haven’t told him any of this,” you say to rafe, feeling slightly guilty. shouldn’t this be clear? that you’re favouriting rafe over bruce? but no..because with bruce, your feeding his intrigue, protecting his ego. with rafe you give him the honesty he craves, and spur him on. you’re satiating the both of them, in wholly separate ways. or maybe it’s the same.
“you’ve told him nothing?” rafe echoes, almost in disbelief, moving between your thighs. you shake your head, voice too unstable to say much when his head dips down, breath ghosting over you. tugging your panties down, he causes them to slip down to your ankles, unhooking them and tossing them to the side before he grips your inner thigh almost bruisingly. “why’s that?” he asks, tongue teasing your slit. “he can’t handle it?” he answers for you between strokes of his tongue against you. “is he better at me than this?” rafe mumbles, and gathered by your bitten back moans, he’ll take it as a no.
this is a deadly routine. bruce one day, rafe the next. and again, and again. no escape. well, of course, there’s one evident escape: choose. but it’s never been that easy with two men who won’t take no for an answer. bruce doesn’t even know rafe, yet takes this is as a competition. rafe knows bruce, and it only spurs him on trying to prove he’s better.
your back’s pressed against rafe’s bare chest. staring at the clock, watching the minutes tick by. no doubt you’ll see bruce by the end of tomorrow night. and then rafe in the morning the day afterwards. rafe presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “it’s like i can hear you’re thinking..” he grumbles sleepily. “then what am i thinking of?” you whisper back. “us,” he states, and your body pricks with gooseflesh. so they can both do that then: read your mind. figuratively, of course. but then again, it’s always so damn accurate. you don’t offer a response, and so you both fall into a silence again.
you slip out the next morning. don’t leave behind a note, or any trace of you, having decided in the hours you laid awake that perhaps ignoring the pair was for the best. distance yourself, get rid of them both. end the cycle.
if only it was that easy.
they both watched you. batman stalked rooftops, walking along them, following you. spiderman clung to walls, moving stealthily. right under each other at times, not that they’d ever notice– for now. they were too concentrated on you. walking alone at night was dangerous anyways. they had to protect you, even if you didn’t want it.
and you knew..eventually. oddly shaped daggers stuck into the walls wherever you want. web residue that seemed too large to be the average spider. you wanted to brush it off, and you did for a week. you started switching your routes, wondering if you could throw them off. driving with friends, taking public transport. but it followed you.
they both did.
at times, you considered staying home. not leaving, forgetting about work. even that wouldn’t work. mornings where the window was open, previously shut, and distinct scents lingering in the apartment. you’d gotten locks– they’d broken them.
you never knew which one it was either. they mixed, traces over traces that confused you. eyes staring at you, but you weren’t sure whose they were. they had that same intenseness.
then it all went south when you came home from work a week later. bruce’s sports car, sleek and far too grand for a place like this, parked on the curb in front of your apartment. your heart sutters for more than one reason, pulse quickening. “bruce..”you gasp. “why are you–”
“ignoring me? i was wondering the same thing.” he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against his car door. “is this going against our agreement where i drop you off somewhere else?” he looks around– looking for someone. you swallow, grappling in your mind with what to say. “no–no! i just needed a break..” he hums, cocks his head. “from the other guy too?”
“yes–”
“ahh..” he nods, like he understands it. “getting too difficult for you?” he raises his eyebrows. “look, i don’t expect you to get in the car with me and go—”
“well she’d be stupid to do that.” you freeze, eyes shutting as you pray he’s not really here. not now.
it’s useless. rafe’s strolled out of no where. but no, not rafe– spiderman. masked, and acting like the superhero. his facade for a greater motive.
bruce straightens, makes a move towards you, protective instantly. rafe steps to you too. you inch back from both. “do i know you?” bruce asks, unfolding his arms, adjusting his suit. composed, but prepared. you can tell. rafe’s already in fight mode, suited, and waiting. “sure you do,” he responds cockily.
all you can think is: don’t say it. don’t say it. don’t say it.
“i’m mystery man,” he says lowly, whispering it like it’s a secret. bruce’s head snaps to you, pointing at the toned superhero. “really? that’s the special guy?” you look away, and you can’t see it, but you just know rafe’s grinning under his mask. “without the suit,” you mumble, and bruce nods slowly, turning back to spiderman.
“well then how about you take that mask off? if you want to be brave like that, or you give me a second, maybe we can go suit for suit,” bruce dares, and you can see the lens of rafe’s mask widen, then narrow. oh god. “i think this is stupid—”
“suit for suit?” rafe’s interest is piqued. “what does that mean?” he glances at you, and you shake your head, a silent plea for him to avoid the topic. “i mean come on..surely you’ve heard of other little superheroes around, right? or is that tight thing restricting your mind?” bruce smirks, voice like silk. smooth, and without hesitation.
for rafe, it takes little time to piece things together. bruce wayne, infamous billionaire in gotham. batman, gotham’s vigilante, or rumoured legend. he tuts, “so..you have a type,” he drawls to you. you avoid eye contact with either. “it’s better that we don’t do this..”
“no i think we should,” rafe snaps.
“i mean if you’re up for it,” bruce shrugs.
it’s like their sizing each other up. a fatal contest for you. “what are you gonna do? fight each other, in the middle of the street? do you hear yourselves?” you argue back, and bruce’s jaw ticks. rafe’s fists tighten.
“no,” bruce says carefully, not taking his eyes off rafe. “you choose.” he finally tears his gaze away to you.
your breath catches. forced to look at him. he’s not looking at you with any type of hate, or force. oddly gentle, almost desperate as if he doesn’t want to be alone again.
“wait–“ you backtrack.
“not a half bad idea..” rafe mutters, tugging his mask off, revealing a bruise across his cheekbone. you bristle, hating to think of how he might have gotten that. “pick. we’ll wait.”
endings:
happily ever after…dark knight in shining armour
happily ever after…spiderman of your dreams
OPPOSITES ATTRACT - clark kent x reader
summary: a shy, soft-spoken reader starts a new job at the daily planet and meets clark kent, who is kind, composed, and quietly attentive. despite being opposites—clark steady and confident, reader awkward and anxious—he gently makes space for her without ever overwhelming her. over time, small moments of care build into a quiet bond: shared coffee, walking her to the train, holding her hand with soft permission.
word count: 770 (ikik js wait for me to cook in part 2)
you were quiet. always a little too aware of the space you took up, always apologizing for things that didn’t need apologies.
he noticed that first. the way you’d speak and then immediately shrink, like you weren’t sure your words deserved the air they were given.
clark… clark was composed. kind. the kind of kind that didn’t need to announce itself. people listened when he spoke.
you listened a little too closely.
you met him on your first day at the daily planet. it was raining. of course it was. you’d dropped your folder in a puddle, your notes already smudged, and you were seconds away from just turning around and pretending you never applied.
and then… he was there.
blue eyes. umbrella held over your head. voice gentle.
“i think this is yours,” he said, handing you your now very sad-looking folder.
you were pretty sure you mumbled something like “thank you” but you were too busy trying not to melt into the sidewalk.
after that, he kept showing up. small things at first. offering you coffee before you even had to ask. helping you when the printer jammed. waiting for you when everyone else had already left the newsroom.
you didn’t know how to talk to him properly. he was so clark. put-together, sweet, always looking like he walked out of a black-and-white movie.
you were just… you.
so when he’d sit next to you at lunch or walk you to your train, you’d fumble. trip over your own sentences. say weird things like,
“you have very polite elbows.”
(you wanted to die after that one. he laughed, though. the nice kind. not mean.)
sometimes he’d say your name like it meant something. like it was important. and you never knew what to do with yourself when he did that.
the thing is… he never made you feel small. not once.
he noticed how your hands shook during meetings. how your voice got quiet when too many people were around. how you’d rather write your thoughts than speak them aloud.
and instead of trying to fix you… he just stood beside you.
solid. steady. always there.
you were opposites.
he was sunrises. you were soft shadows.
he spoke like poetry. you lived in parentheses.
but god, he looked at you like you were made of stars.
and you… you started believing him.
one night, after a long day at work, you were both sitting in the breakroom. your legs tucked up, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. the city buzzed below, and he was sipping tea beside you, calm as ever.
you looked at him. really looked.
and whispered, “why do you always stay?”
he didn’t look away.
“because you make quiet feel like home.”
you blinked, heart in your throat.
he reached over slowly, carefully, fingers brushing against yours. testing the waters. like he knew loud people scared you but he didn’t want to.
“can i hold your hand?”
you nodded, barely.
and just like that, everything inside you exhaled.
you weren’t loud. or bold. or brave in the way most people understood.
but with him?
you felt seen.
and with you?
he got to rest.
Reblogged simpforsquidward
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