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moonlight-records · 9 months ago

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Birthday races | CL16 & AL14

pairing: Charles Leclerc & Arthur Leclerc & reader

summary: your best friends are both in October with one day apart. Usually, you're on top of the best combined birthday ever and somehow the one year you rarely plan happens to be the best one yet.

warning: platonic fluff!! lil platonic trio!!

fc: none!

a/n: in honor of my favorite leclerc duos & being charles birthday twin (yes, my birthday is october 16th!) please enjoy this belated/early birthday blurb!

wc: 1.3K

October is your favorite month. You have a giant list of reasons why October just so happens to be the superior month: the weather, flannels, spooky season, pumpkin carvings, and libra season. There was just so much to do but your absolute favorite thing about October is your best friend's birthdays.

It was even better considering their birthdays were only a day apart. October 14th and October 16th so you had just planned a fun filled day with activities they would boy enjoy on October 15th and spent the day celebrating your two closest friends. You really went all out since the activities started typically at midnight on October 15th. Typically from then to noon, you three celebrated Arthur and then from noon to midnight it was Charles, always ending at midnight with you and Arthur singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Charles. It was simple and routine and almost like second nature.

“We leave on my birthday for Austin.”

You stare at Charles and Arthur like they grew three heads each. This is the first time in years that you had to cut your celebrations short due to scheduling and you’ve fully planned things around their races to make sure this happened but this was different. You were so busy with things going on in your life that their birthdays have completely slipped from your mind and now have nothing planned and only…24 hours to figure something out.

“That’s fine!” You beam a smile so they didn’t pick up on the panic coursing through you, “I’ll just adjust my plans.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asks, “I know you spend forever planning these things…”

“And really they are wonderful and if I could I would fly out first thing Thursday morning but with media day—” Charles asks.

“Guys. Guys. Guys!” You finally say over Arthur and Charles talking about maybe somehow leaving earlier, “It’s fine! Really. You have work and you want to support Charles. When have I ever been upset about this before?” You giggle softly while leaning forward slightly, “I’ve planned around your schedules before, I can do it again! Besides, I’ve been dying for a challenge lately!” You clasp your hands together, “ this will be great!”

This was not great. You had spent Arthur’s birthday running around town trying to plan something. Anything. It seemed the universe heard you and really amped it up because there is nothing to do in Monaco. Everything has magically been booked up and you are about to pull all your hair out because you’re certain that this is going to be the worst birthday you’re going to throw for them before an idea clicks.

Why bother going out and running the town when you guys can just stay in and be lazy? It’s perfect! Charles and Arthur can nap and last minute pack before their flight while still celebrating both their birthdays. You take a second trip around town and collect everything that you need, including last minute birthday presents (not your proudest moments this year but hey, you do what you got to do) and a huge surprise, and then get home roughly close to 8pm and only have 4 hours to get things together.

You decorate your living room and giggle happily seeing your hard work. You somehow found Ferrari and racing themed decorations (balloons included) and had happily turned your living room into a mini race track to mirror Monaco. It was…a valiant effort on your party as you tilted your head at the rather wonky layout. Table at the start for drinks, each section existing with something else. Mostly mini party things: sunglasses, shot glasses, balloons (that didn’t make the cut so were now sacrifices to being victims to Charles and Arthur trying to see how could have the higher voice off of helium), cupcakes (which currently had a placeholder), and a few other things. You set a table up for the food which would be the pit lane.

It was all coming together.

You spent the last two and a half hours between baking the desserts and cooking the appetizers. While that’s happening, you also start getting the drinks ready. You were so in the zone that you didn’t realize how much time had gone but you managed to get it done. You step back to admire your hard work after setting the stations up and your huge surprise before there’s a knock on your door.

“Coming!”

Ushering to the front door you glance at your ring camera panel seeing Arthur and Charles standing outside talking to each other. You open your door just enough to stick your head out and smile brightly. “Boys!”

“Y/N!” They say in unison.

“Okay, the two of you close your eyes,” you instruct and watch them before opening the door. By some miracle, you manage to guide the two of them in without them tripping over one another as you lead them to the ‘start of the track’. “Almost there.” You have Charles shuffle into pole position, given he was older, and then place Arthur in p2. You step back and quickly take your phone out to snap a photo before smiling. “Open your eyes!”

You watch them open their eyes and look around. Charles’ eyes widen while Arthur whispers a soft ‘wow’. The two of them break out into wide smiles (almost identical, thank god they looked different). “Tadaaaa,” you say while giving them some jazz hands, “I made a…rough layout of the Monaco track.” Turning, “the snacks are at the pit lane, drinks are at the start and you have to take a shot before you start racing and then each corner has a little surprise. Cupcakes, candy, birthday presents,” you list off before turning to them, “also if you look behind you—”

Charles turns and gasps loudly, “Y/N!” Arthur turns and covers his mouth before laughing loudly.

The huge surprise happens to be three electric ride-on cars. Charles was a black Ferrari with red accents, Arthur’s was the reverse of that, and you had picked a white Jeep, “They’re remote control and derivable on its own. I also replaced the batteries with drill batteries so without further ado,” you go to your laptop and play the iconic countdown to start a race. Rushing over, Charles had managed to pour shots without making a huge mess.

“Lights out and away we go!” Croft’s voice rings from your laptop. The three of you immediately take your shots. You manage to get in your jeep first and turn it on before taking off, forgetting that the drill battery is much more powerful and you almost take yourself out. You laugh loudly as Charles curses, struggling to turn his car on while Arthur screams when he starts driving and Charles is shouting at Arthur to be careful.

The three of you race till the wee hours of the morning. Mostly because you had to pause to recharge the drill batteries but also Charles had spilled two drinks, Arthur got frosting in his face after grabbing a cupcake and accidentally pressing the gas and you were playing host and driver. You ended up winning the race by 2 seconds. After, the three of you settled down as the boys opened their boo baskets (that you were calling ‘boo birthday baskets’) and all the gifts you had picked. The boys loved them.

Three of you ordered a huge breakfast and just chatted. You bring the cake out about three hours before Charles and Arthur have to leave to pack and you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to both Arthur and Charles and watch them blow out their candles (having given them candles on opposite sides of the cake) and settle down on the couch, all cuddled up together, watching some trashy reality tv to end the birthday celebration which the three of you had decided would be the go to birthday celebration from now.

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dilfartist · 9 months ago

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Halloween 🎃 ask,

Yan ghost Nanami 👻 rip, in a mansion with a urban explorer darling?

Three Step Ritual

Word count; 1581

TW; Yandere theme, possessiveness (kinda?), not very Yandere, Nanami’s death mentioned.

Notes;{I wasn’t the best with the fic but I hope it’s to your liking!}

“Mic? Check. Cameras? Check. Walkie talkies? Check.”

You sit beside Joseph, the crew's cameraman, as he checks the equipment they’ve brought for the journey. Three of you sat in the back of the old van, awaiting the stop at the location you were supposed to visit. Toshi, who sits directly across from you, finally speaks up, taking the lit cigarette from his chapped lips.

“So, what’s the story?” His voice comes out gruff.

Joseph looks up from his camera, “First of all, throw that cigarette out. Second of all, we’re going to a mansion in Shibuya. Apparently, this area has a ghost that answers clearly, or that’s what the YouTube videos fake. You have to do some damn Bloody Mary ritual.”

Toshi rolls his head back lazily to scratch the underside of his chin. “You look into a mirror and say his name?” Toshi inquires.

“No. From the website I read, the instructions say we need candles, an offering, and a spirit box. Depending on what the ghost thinks about the person, he’ll communicate through the spirit box or appear in front of them.”

You already knew of the ritual. Last night, you stayed up late and resurched an article, bought all of the items suggested, and even researched the person a little. The man’s name was Nanami. Nanami died at the young age of twenty-seven as an ordinary businessman. The bag swayed in your hand as the van drove, containing all the items you knew he’d like.

Joseph turned to you. “Alright. So, you see this camera?” he pointed at a GoPro, “you’ll put this on and then record once you go into the building.” Joseph helped get you situated, placing and adjusting the Gopro on your head.

“Got it?”Joseph asks.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, “yup.”

If it weren’t for the money you’d receive after the assignment, you’d be in bed, probably catching up on new seasons of shows. However, rent was coming up, and it seemed everything needed money these days.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to venture for ghosts in hopes of scoring YouTube views, so when you saw an ad for an open role as an additional member of a ghost-hunting team that would put a little money in your pockets, you accepted the offer. Crazy as it was. You only accepted the job since the ghost had a tame reputation.

The van came to a stop after a good twenty-minute drive. Looking out the van window, the mansion wasn’t stereotypical; the layout was clean, evidently having recent touch-ups: No rotten trees, smashed windows, or decaying walls. Everyone emptied the van, stepped into the mansion yard, and then migrated inside.

You went into the dining room. The room which the spirit was said to frequent. Strangely enough, the room didn’t look half bad, even though it had supposedly been abandoned for a couple of years. The table was already set but it didn’t appear untouched. No dust or aging showed on any of the items, not even the tablecloth.

Everyone gathered inside the room and began to set up. Four cameras encircled you, their red dots illuminating the dark room.

“If you need anything call out to us,” Joseph informed you, wiggling a walkie-talkie to illustrate what you’d need to use to communicate. “Okay...” you nod.

One by one, the team members departed until you were left by your lonesome. The room was dark- even with the red glow from the cameras, too dark for your comfort. You gripped the skinny candle, your palms growing clammy by the second. You swallowed, shakily placing the candle on the table. Setting the spirit box by your side, you turn on your GoPro and then begin the ritual.

Step one: light the candle.

Using a spare match from your pants pocket, you lit the candle, positioning it close to you but not enough to be beside you.

Step two: give offers.

You take the loaf of bread out and the freshly brewed coffee you made before coming here. Placing the items beside the candle, you close your eyes.

Step three: call out to spirit.

Your lips quiver, but eventually, you call out to the spirit. “...Nanami,” you start, trying to breathe through the anxiety, “Are you here?”

Step four: keep your eyes closed until you hear something.

You shut your eyes tightly, so tight it slightly stung. And yet no one answered your call. The spirit box was on, wasn’t it? You checked it before you attempted the ritual. You don't know what’s more frightening; the silence or someone speaking. The thought of opening your eyes tempted you, but the guide advised you to keep your eyes closed for at least five minutes.

“Thank you for bringing black coffee.”

Instantly, you opened your eyes. The scenery wasn’t the same as a minute ago. Before your eyes fluttered shut, the dining room was cloaked in the dark blue moonlight, nothing but the candle and cameras brightening the room. Now the room was shrouded in the warmth of the chandler above the dining table.

Cider wood. It suddenly smelled like cider wood.

“..N..Nanami?” you call out again.

“I am him.”

Your head nearly spun towards the entrance. A man- no, Nanami leaned against the entryway of the dining room. Dressed in a formal tan business suit, a pair of sunglasses with no arms, and a neat hairstyle, he sipped the coffee you had brought. Nanami acted as if this was a normal occurrence for him. “Holy shit..” you mumble out.

Nanami approaches the table, picking up the loaf of bread. “This is fresh as well?” one glance in your direction made you speak up, “..yes. I got it before I came here..”

Nanami hums, “Thank you. Most people offer stale bread. Not very polite since they’re taking up my time, but I’ll entertain them with a conversation on those voice boxes. You, on the other hand, showed care in your work.”

Using his bare hands, Nanami divides the bread in two and places the other chunk of bread on a plate. “So what is it you’ve come to ask me? Or have you no questions at all?”

As a matter of fact, you didn’t have any questions. Anyone in your shoes would have the same issue. No one would have expected Nanami to appear in front of them or for him to speak back to them. The whole story sounded like a creepypasta that a tween created.

“I’m not sure...” You didn’t want to admit that you didn’t believe he was real. Then something came to mind. “Would you mind me asking the reason you are here if you died at the Shibuya subway station?”

Suprise overcomes his features, though it only displays for a moment. “When a person dies and hasn’t moved on, they have a choice to haunt the place they died at or a place that holds some significance to them.”

“How does this place hold significance to you? Did you live here?”

Nanami shakes his head, “No, but I did wish to. I could have had the money In no time, but I did have other things in mind before purchasing it.”

“What was it?” you question.

“A family.” Nanami expressed his lament through the way his voice lowered a pitch, eyes staring down at the wooden table. “I never had the time to get married. Work overtook my time; it wouldn’t have been fair to them.”

Nanami knew how to pull at your heartstrings, that’s for sure. “I died during work as well,” Nanami reminisced. “Although I didn’t succeed in having a family, I’m happy my life had a positive Impact.”

Nanami and you entertained a conversation, both discovering more about each other.

From what you gathered, you could infer Nanami was a good person. He was well-spoken: A man who was respectful, kind, and easy to talk to. It almost felt like a dream.

“(Name),” A voice called out through static. You turn away from Nanami. You answer, “Yes?” The static erupts from the small walkie-talkie, “Come back.” Offering an apologetic smile to Nanami, you replied, “Okay, coming out.”

You stand, “I have to go now,” you somberly tell him. “You can keep the bread and coffee, of course.” Blowing out the candle, you went to leave. The door swings shut, causing you to step back in fright. Shit.

Even if you considered Nanami a good person, you shouldn’t have turned your back on a ghost.

“I see.”

You couldn’t move. You felt grounded in place, quasi to the roots stabling a tree. Nanami had been innocuous so far; still, you would be careful by doing as he asked

“Forgive me; that must have been too forceful.” Nanami took note of the change in your demeanor. “I only meant to ask if you’d visit again.”

Little by little, you felt your muscles release the built-up tension. “Visit?” you repeat, skeptical if you should reward Nanami with your trust.

“I enjoyed our conversation and would like to have another sometime. Only if you’d like, of course.”

Although Nanami was a spirit, able to end your life had he pleased, you enjoyed the conversation as well. You turned around to face him. “I could come by on Thursday.”

Nanami hummed, “I look forward to it.”

Not long after, you headed back to the van. Toshi opened the van door to allow you in. Toshi gazes at you with amusement oozing from his smug smile. “Real good act, kid,” you take your seat, “What are you talking about?” you ask.

Joseph huffs in response, looking down at his camera, which you presumed meant he was viewing the footage back. “I really thought we’d get good footage...” he murmured angrily to himself.

Toshi took a seat beside you. “We may not have gotten genuine footage, but you were slightly convincing. As long as some kids click on the video, we’ll make a buck or two off it.”

“I was talking to him that whole time- didn’t it come through the spirit box,” you contend.

“No one was talking to you on the spirit box. You just started murmuring things with your eyes closed.”

#yandere jjk #jjk kento #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #yandere nanami kento #nanami kento #kento nanami #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #yandere themes #dilfartist #yandere #yandere tw

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thedevilsoftruth · 3 months ago

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Romania, I'll Be Back

Chapter One: I learned about myself today

B. Barnes x f! Reader

Sum: Bucky Barnes escaped Hydra and fled the country to Romania. He finds moving in and trying to adjust to his new life difficult until he meets a baker who asks him if he wants a free sample of her famous dish.

Warnings: set after the events of CAWS. panic attacks, anxiety, love at first sight?? Mentions of Hydra, slightly sad themes. 3rd person pov.

Tags: @homiesexual-or-homosexual ( I love the username, btw )

W/c: 2.5k

A/n: I would like to give a big thanks to @shockercoco for being my beta reader for this chapter. I've been thinking of writing this for a very, very, very long time, and to be able to say that it's something that's actually happening now makes me very happy. Please enjoy. I have a lot planned for this fic.

Entry 1,

I ran. Really far. I ran and ran, and I couldn't stop. My feet kept carrying me, and I didn't stop until I fled the country. I took buses, trains, anything, anywhere--I didn't care. I needed to get out of there.

And here I am. Safe. Finally, I hope.

It had been nonstop storming where I had been, but the skies here were clear today, so that's nice.

I found an apartment, finally.

I don't think I can rest my head fully after visiting that museum. But I needed to see it, and it's because I saw it that I learned about myself today. A few things, actually.

The museum said I was a sergeant during WWII? I don't feel like a sergeant. Sergeants are strong and good leaders. They have good hearts. I do not.

And Steve? I'm curious about him, really. I don't think we will ever meet again, and if we do, I think he'd be really upset with me. I think there are a lot of people out there who are upset with me. But that's okay. I'm not too happy with myself, either.

I went to that museum today to learn about Steve, but instead, I learned about myself. I guess that's good. I still don't even know who I am.

Anyway, I have a thumping headache, and my anxiety is through the roof. I think I'm going to go lay down, but I will be back.

-- James Buchanan Barnes.

...Or Bucky.

Bucharest, Romania 2016

It had been a day since Bucky had moved into his apartment. All of his "unpacking" was done on the same day he moved in, not that he had anything at all to unpack in the first place. His first thought when he had woken up that morning was that he needed new clothes. And gloves.

Gloves would be crucial for him if he didn't want to be given any funny looks with his metal arm out in public, or worse: be found by Hydra.

When he went out that evening, he had on a simple black button-down and dark blue denim jeans that might have been a bit too big on him. Sizing charts were something he wasn't expecting to look out for at the time he bought the jeans. He wore a baseball hat to hide his face and had on his backpack. The backpack was more of a home to him than his apartment.

The apartment was cheap and worn down, but the backpack carried everything he needed–Cash, a few weapons, the old dog tags he found a long time ago as the winter solider that he was somehow able to hide from hydra for the many years he had it. It also held his journal–the most important item.

The journal would act as a guide to him in case he somehow found himself losing his memories again. He was hoping he would fill it with more memories once they came back to him.

He didn't know where he was going. He wasn't familiar with the layout of the area he was living in, but he thought that if he had stayed near the apartment complex, he'd be able to find it again quickly. At this point in his life, his biggest fear was losing himself again and forgetting things.

As he crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk near a train station, he passed by beggars, buyers, musicians, and other pedestrians just trying to get to where they needed without bothering anyone.

It was the middle of the day, and as Bucky passed by people cooking things on the street, he realized he hadn't eaten all day. He couldn't remember the last time he ate something that wasn't liquidized. Maybe he had his last actual meal in the 40s? The day he fell off the train, he hoped. Every day before that, he also hoped.

Food places should have been easy to find, but it was hard for him to know what he really wanted. He didn't even know what kind of food he liked. He walked by at least three different restaurants until he came across a little stand selling a variety of produce items. Tomatoes, grapes, cabbage, bananas, you name it, and it was there.

He looked through the assortment with his backpack slung over his shoulder for easier access to his cash in case he actually did buy something.

He had his eyes on a certain fruit–They were little purple balls that were no bigger than his fist. He had noticed a few people around the stand with the fruit in their hands. They were golden inside, and they looked incredibly juicy. Bucky could feel his mouth watering at the idea of it.

" How much for 2 of these? " He asked the clerk, picking up two of the purple fruits from the bamboo basket they were settled in.

The clerk, short, chubby and older with streaks of silver running down his dark curled hair, gave him a quick glance.

" For the plums? " The clerk asked him, looking between the basket and Bucky.

Plums. So that's what they were called. Bucky nodded his head at the old man, unzipping the front pocket of his backpack.

" 30 ron. " The clerk told him, clicking a pen open in his shirt. Bucky rummaged through his bag and fished out 3 sets of 10 ron and gave them to the clerk. He was given a tiny white plastic bag for his fruit, and the second he was given them, he was rushing back to his apartment complex.

That was Bucky's first time purchasing plums in Romania, and from that day forward they would become his favorite fruit.

Bucky had a simple objective; go in, grab some plums--maybe some bread too, then get out.

But god no. He'd barely even been there for about a minute, and he was already overstimulated.

It was the first day of the town's local homemade goods market, and the event was going on for about two weeks. It was just a little thing they did; where small businesses came together to share what they sell for slightly cheaper prices. That was the synopsis of the paper he picked up and read on his way home the day before. The produce shop Bucky had bought his newfound favorite fruit day before was going to have a stand in the little market. Or so he thought.

He could not for the life of himself find the shop he was looking for. He walked and walked along the market in hurried repeating circles, looking up and down for the stand, but he just could not find it! Perhaps they weren't set up yet? Maybe the owner got sick?

He wondered anxiously about the infinite possibilities of what could have happened. He didn't see the shop open when he passed by where it was the day before on the street.

He wasn't leaving the damn place until he bought his stupid plums!!

As Bucky walked past the crowd in the street, he bumped into at least four people as he searched for the stand. He was just so annoyed and upset about the whole situation. Maybe he'd try again tomorrow?

Great. Tck. How freaking great.

His gloved hands gripped the white bag full of bread he was holding tighter, and he turned his heel to walk back to where he came in. As he made his way up to the front, he was getting more and more irritated by the second.

His chest felt heavy all of a sudden. a dark cloud of anxiety began circling above his head before it violently started pouring down conflicting emotions and memories that had nothing to do with each other. He didn't understand why he felt so panicked all of a sudden, but what he did understand was that all he wanted was to go home.

But right as he was about to leave, he heard a voice speaking to him as he held his head down and walked towards the exit.

It was a soft voice. A rather quiet one that didn't quite fit with the loudness and chaos of the rest of the market. Yet, it was a voice so beautiful and pleasing to his buzzing ears that it made him stop in his tracks immediately and turn his head to where he believed it was coming from.

" Would you like a free sample, sir? " The voice said. When he raised his head, he made the figure out to be a woman, standing in front of him with a red apron around her waist and a tray in her hands. It turned out that the voice matched the face.

She was beautiful, and that was the first thought he had when he laid his eyes on her. She was so tiny, it was like she could fit within the palm of his hand, and her smile was softest one he'd ever seen in his life.

He didn't know why, but he found himself frozen. Unmoving and still.

" These are my famous plum dumplings. " She told him, holding the little round battered dessert that was set in a tiny white paper cup.

His eyes flicked from her, to the desert, then back at her face. He was unsure whether or not he was allowed to take it. She noticed his hesitation, and she suddenly felt bad for putting him on the spot. He looked like he had places he needed to be, after all.

" Are you not interested? " She asked, her smile all of a sudden a frown that sent his mind into a panic.

He began stammering, shaking his head frantically. " No--I--sorry I--" He blinked, holding his hands out and waving them chaotically. He took a moment to gather himself together, his chest heaving up and down as his panicked mind searched for the next words to say and how he could frame them correctly.

" I would like one. " He told her, his eyes repeatedly flicking from her to the gravel on the concrete. He held out his shaking gloved hand nervously, and when she put the tiny pastry in his palm, he almost flinched like she was going to hurt him. He knew she wasn't a threat, but he might be one.

She looked at him with a growing smile as he picked up the round pastry from its holder. He was an interesting fella to her. She'd only known him for barely a minute, and he was already her most interesting customer that day–By far the most handsome, too.

As he bit into the pastry, she waited in anticipation to see his nervous frown turn into a delighted smile. And to her surprise, it did not take long for that to happen. The moment the tip of his tongue came into the soft, sugary, and crunchy taste of the dumpling, his eyes fluttered shut, and a pleased moan left his lips.

" It's good, isn't it? " She asked, tilting her head to the side while leaning into him a bit.

Bucky found himself smiling rather foolishly as he wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

" It is. " He responded almost robotically, his voice coming out scratchy and pitched from his lack of speaking during the day.

The cute baker didn't realize it, but her cheeks were glowing with a light tinge of pink. It looked good on her, and Bucky couldn't stop himself from catching her eye. It was the first time during their entire encounter when the eye contact didn't feel awkward.

" Sorry, " he chuckled, looking down at his feet once he realized he had been looking at her too long. " I don't get out of the house often. " He said, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, his right holding the remaining half of his pastry.

" That's alright. " She told him. " But I hope to see you back again tomorrow or some time soon. " Now it was time for her gaze to fall on her feet, and for his gaze to fall on her face. He looked at her for as long as he could, trying to memorize every detail of her for the next time he would come back.

" Yeah, yeah." He whispered under his breath mindlessly. " Me too. "

She lifted her gaze, and their eyes met once more. She searched him, and he searched her. They didn't quite know what it was, but they felt drawn together somehow. The path that was set for the both of them differed drastically.

They were two strangers who met on a chain of very unlikely events that somehow got laid out in a very strange yet perfect way. It was almost like they should have never met in the beginning because their stories were so different, but like people always say, ' everything happens for a reason. '

For several moments, they stared at each other, unsure why they were staring but certain that it could mean something. That was until she had broken up the silence.

" I just realized I never got your name. " She told him, squinting her eyes at him, fiddling with her fingers rather anxiously.

Bucky stumbled over himself for a moment, her words breaking him out of his dazed trance. He suddenly became embarrassed by how long he had been staring at her.

" I--Its Bucky. " He told her, sheepishly averting his gaze from her. She nodded her head. Not only was he an interesting fella, but he had an interesting name. She gave him her own name, and once he had it, he was on his toes to zoom out of the place due to how fast his heart was beating. He could feel sweat beading at his forehead.

" So, mister Bucky, " She began in a rather cheesy sense, " See you sometime soon? Have a nice day. "

Her words were making him feel such strange things, things he was sure he hadn't felt at least since the 40s. He had no idea how to handle things, and he exhaled deeply to try and calm himself down.

He didn't look at her at all for the rest of the time he was there with her. If he looked at her, he was going to fall in love. And Bucky Barnes didn't know how to fall in love. At least not anymore.

" Yeah, yeah. " He muttered, pursing his lips and running his gloved hands down his thighs. " I'll be back. "

And just like that, he was off, speed walking as fast as he could to get out of there before something terrible happened.

As he walked back to his apartment, his mind kept racing and spiraling. He was dealing with the worst conflicting emotions he had ever had in his years. He couldn't go back. He just couldn't. Bucky knew that all good things come to an end, and whenever he would ever get the smallest bit of something good In his life, it would be snatched out of his hands before he could be able to savor it.

But even though he told himself that he wouldn’t go back the next day, when he woke up, he couldn't seem to get his feet to stop.

Maybe that was a good thing? no. It was the best thing he could have done because that one singular decision he made would change his entire life. He just didn't know it yet, and neither did you.

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #bucky #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #caws #the winter soldier #captain america winter soldier

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sylusonychinus · 4 months ago

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Episode 3: The Convention Plan

Series Masterlist Next Episode

The hospital conference room hummed with quiet discussion as you, Jeremiah, and Zayne sat around the table, reviewing documents and research notes.

"Alright," Zayne began, adjusting his coat. "The convention is in a month. We need to finalize our booth setup and make sure Akso Hospital stands out."

You flipped through the files on the table, skimming over the list of competitors. Other prestigious hospitals had already announced their participation, and their setups were expected to be impressive.

Jeremiah leaned back in his chair. "So, what’s the plan?"

Zayne turned his attention to you. "Reader, I want you to design the booth and come up with activities we can do to engage visitors."

You blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Zayne nodded. "You know this hospital inside and out, and you’re good at handling patients. You’ll know what works best."

Your lips parted slightly. So that’s why I was suddenly assigned to his team… He already knew what I was capable of.

You nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "I’ll do my best."

Later that day

At your desk, you stared at your tablet, sketching a few layout ideas for the booth. The theme had to represent Akso Hospital—its values, its innovations, and most importantly, its commitment to patient care.

You bit your lip, tapping your stylus against the screen. Maybe a modern, minimalist design? Or something more interactive?

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t notice the presence looming behind you.

"Looks like you're working hard."

You nearly jumped at the familiar voice. Turning around, you found Zayne standing behind your chair, hands in the pockets of his coat, looking down at your work.

"Dr. Zayne," you exhaled, placing a hand over your chest. "You scared me."

He smirked slightly but didn’t apologize. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, glancing at your sketches. "Let me see."

You hesitated before tilting the screen toward him. "I was thinking of a design that emphasizes patient engagement—something warm and welcoming instead of the usual clinical look."

Zayne studied the sketches, nodding in approval. "Not bad. The layout makes sense, and it looks inviting."

His hand reached out suddenly, ruffling your hair in an almost absentminded gesture. "I knew you’d come up with something good."

You froze.

Did he just… pat my head?

Your eyes darted up at him, but Zayne didn’t seem to realize what he had done—or if he did, he wasn’t showing it.

"Just make sure to focus on what the patients would like to see," he added, his tone casual.

You blinked, still processing the sudden warmth that spread from where his fingers had brushed your scalp. "What do you mean?"

He tapped a finger against the edge of your tablet. "Think about what would make them feel comfortable and cared for. That’s what matters."

You nodded slowly, his words settling in. "I understand."

Zayne straightened up, slipping his hands back into his pockets. "Good." He glanced at his watch. "I have rounds to do. Keep working on it and let me know when you have a finalized design."

Before he could turn away completely, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Dr. Zayne… Why did you assign me to your team?"

He paused for a moment, then met your gaze. "Because I know you're capable."

Your breath caught in your throat at his simple but weighted answer.

And with that, he walked away, leaving you staring after him.

You slowly reached up, touching the spot where his hand had been moments ago.

Zayne Li… you’re really something else.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up your stylus again and got back to work.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk@divxvx@demon-master-zero@mcdepressed290 @syluslittlecrows @seris-the-amious

#lnds zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads #zayne li #zayne lads

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q4os-tde-official · 6 days ago

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oh btw KDE Plasma 6.4 is out, afaik the big, noticable change is that Spectacle now functions more like Microsoft's Snip&Sketch by default (where meta+shift+s opens a little panel near the top of the screen and defaults to a rectangular selection instead of opening the full window from the get-go)

though unlike Snip&Sketch, it lets you adjust and annotate the selection immediately, before then taking you to the familiar window

you can also press Enter to instantly take a snapshot of your whole screen

other changes include:

per-virtual-desktop tiling layouts

mouse keys (controlling the cursor with the numpad) in the Wayland session

3 finger zoom gesture for touchpads in the Wayland session

Breeze Dark (the included dark theme) is now darker to improve text readability

the rest of the screen now darkens when an authentication prompt opens

animations settings page in System Settings

updated file transfer notification (now with a speed graph :3)

Do Not Disturb mode when in a fullscreen program (missed notifications will be summarised when you exit, and be avaliable in full in the System Tray)

a notification that appears when a program tries to access a muted microphone

Media Player widget now supports playback speed adjustment for players that support it

Disks & Devices now checks for Disk errors and even offers to try to fix it

improvements to stylus configuration, including relative mode support to allow it to behave like a mouse

new HDR calibration wizard

EDR and P010 support

support for artificially limiting color depth

KRunner can now preview hex colors based on hex values (#000000), CSS/SVG names (Black), and base10 RGB values (000,000,000)

System Monitor now shows GPU usage, with per-process stats avaliable for Intel and AMD GPUs

raw data from sensors is now shown in Info Center under a new Sensors page

it is now possible to set it so that dragging and dropping files always does one specific behaviour, instead of asking which one you want to do

Plasma Brows Integration now supports Flatpaks for forks of Firefox and Chromium (e.g. LibreWolf, Ungoogled Chromium)

technically this would be @kde-plasma-official's job, but i daily drive Fedora KDE and i just love yapping about stuff like this :D

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tecceran · 9 months ago

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➥ candy / autumn themed layout for @sekaitransparents’s spooky layout competition!

➥ transparents by @/sekaitransparents of course, @pngsk for the candies from the 2023/2024 BD cards, and some additional resources from @/rwuffle!

➥ free to use (if not chosen in the contest, sekaitransparents get first dibs obviously) credit is very appreciated if others use!

➥ some alt / blank versions. please feel free to crop / adjust / mix with your own dividers, edits, etc

➥ font used for text is “gloria hallelujah”

#spookylayoutcomp #sekaitransparents #tech.editing #oooh i’m nervous about this #only my second time making a layout like this…#i really liked how my header for akito-shinonome-daily came out but i don’t know if these are as good #hopefully things are the right aspect ratios asdkaajgskadhskajsaksk #project sekai #haruka kiritani #pjsk #prsk

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pannman · 2 days ago

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Whats On Your Mind

Yandere Radioapple x Telepathic Reader

Pt 9

Masterlist here

TW: yandere themes, toxic relationships, manipulation, forced feeding, drugging, forced contact, kidnapping, horrible egg puns

You awoke on what was probably your 4th morning in the castle. You were still refusing to eat, so Lucifer was continuing to force feed you smoothies and shakes to his dismay. Although he would leave solid foods on a tray available to you at all times. It was getting awfully hard to resist it. Sitting there. As if taunting you. But you restrained yourself continuing your silent protest. You weren't sure what you'd accomplish with it but you were damned if you were gonna become his perfect little pet

Lucifer showered you with his attention whenever he had the time. He would bring you gifts which you rejected. He would hug and hold and cradle you without your consent. He would spend so much time trying to make conversation but you refused to speak to him. He was disheartened by your constant resistance and rejection but he stayed patient as if he was just waiting for you to adjust

"You know... you used to be so affectionate with me and you always said what I needed to hear". Sure, cause you could read his mind... you always knew what he needed to hear. He would reminisce about the past quite a lot. You tried to ignore him. Truth be told it hurt your heart to hear him bring it up. He was so different back then. Everything was different. You felt so seen by him. But now you felt like he only saw what he wanted to see

You never bothered reading his mind lately since it was nothing but scattered obsessiveness but this time you breached his mind in an attempt to see if you could find ANY info that could help you escape

*I wish we would do the things we used to, talking for hours, movie night, cooking together, feeding the ducks...*

At first you thought maybe you could convince him to let you feed the ducks and make a run for it but that would be too obvious and even then he'd catch you quickly. You needed to be able to LEAVE THE ROOM if you wanted to get a layout of the castle. You started to devise a plan but you couldn't execute it yet. Not with these thoughts still fresh in his mind

You waited for the next day, Lucifer came in the morning as usual with a breakfast smoothie but almost dropped it in awe

"Y-you... you ate the food I left you" he said astonished. You had eaten the solid food he left you night before. This was step 1 of your plan. You needed him to think all his effort was working. "I-it was... really good. I was just so tired of smoothies..." this was also the first time you had talked to him in days

"Well then, let me get rid of this and get you something substantial" he used his magic to quickly replace the smoothie with a full course breakfast. He handed you the tray which you placed on your lap and began eating. He looked so happy. "Are you gonna eat with me?" You stopped to ask

He started to tear up but quickly wiped them away discreetly though he failed to hide it from you. "Sure thing!" He conjured himself up a similiar meal and he sat down next to you to eat. "The eggs are perfect" you replied in a cheerful tone.

"Well, I remember you prefer them overeasy. I knew if I prepared them right you'd eventually come out of your SHELL" he joked nudging you like it wasn't the corniest thing you've ever heard. "No... stop" you rolled your eyes as you took another bite. "Come on! It was a great yolk!" He laughed at his own pun and you couldn't help but smirk a little. You had to remind yourself that this was all facade you were putting up. You were a prisoner. You needed to escape. You couldn't let him charm his way back into your heart again

After a few more horrible egg puns and some light chit chat you decided to test the waters. "I wish I could've helped... we used to cook things together all the time..." you carefully crafted your words hoping it was just enough but not too much. "I miss it too" he responded wistfully. "Maybe... tonight we could... try to make some italian food. Just the two of us" you suggested. His eyes lit up

"Thats a great idea! Tonight will be perfect!" He clapped his hands in excitement. You decided since it was going well to push a little further. "Oooo and maybe after we can have a movie night" Lucifer's eyes sparkled. "REALLY!?!" He jumped off the bed. "Of course! I'll find a something fun to watch! Maybe a marathon! Who knows!"

Instead of leaving to your own devices like usual he stayed with you for a little longer, that was until he announced he needed to get everything ready for your evening together. You prayed that this would work, so far step 2: get outside the bedroom, was going swimmingly.

That evening he entered once again dressed in a rather nice suit that you had never seen him wear before. Was that new? No. Focus. You tried to keep yourself on task. He then stood by the door and made a gesture for you to walkthrough it. It was a feeling of like a burst of joy. A sense of newfound freedom you'd never experienced it seemed. Who would've thought just leaving a room would have such an impact

You exited with him following close behind you. He placed an arm on your back guiding you to the kitchen. You tried not to turn your head to look around and instead discreetly darted your eyes around the hall. You weren't sure what you were looking for but knowledge is power you figured. You needed to know as much about the castle as you could.

The hallway was lit up with miniature crystal chandeliers, and the floor was covered from end to end in long fancy red carpet. Tapestries retelling the falling of Lucifer and creation of hell hung between each stained glass window.

Once you reached the kitchen your jaw almost dropped. It was the biggest most impressive kitchen you'd ever seen. You had mentally prepared for it to be something spectacular but you were still caught off guard by how extravagant it was. White marble floors, golden kitchenware, an giant oven, and black marble countertops smooth to touch and shiny

"This is your fucking kitchen?!?" You exclaimed. "I know its a little over the top. Its really Lilith's tastes but itll do" he had not mentioned his wife out loud in a long time it had suddenly occured to you. "No, its.. its just beautiful. I've never been in a nicer kitchen" you replied

"Well take all the time you need to get comfortable. The food can wait" he said. You brushed it off quickly. "No, its fine. Lets get started." He grew excited at your eagerness. "Of course! Let me get out the ingredients." As he went through the kitchen it was clear most of it he had already gotten out. But you paid attention and you almost gasped audibly when you spotted some pills up above the spices in one the cabinets he rummaged through. You remembered Lucifer saying he needed to take sleeping pills occasionally to deal with insomnia

Step 3. Find something to knock him out with. Hopefully you could get him to lower his guard enough

You prepared your meal together cooking spaghetti and meatballs, minestrone, risotto, and gnocchi. You easily fell back into your usual roles and it almost felt like old times. You finished cooking and prepared the dining table before eating together. It was all delicious. "Would like some wine?" He asked. Wine would be your perfect weapon. "Of course. You can't have a meal like this without wine" you responded hoping he'd agree and have some himself. He poured you a glass of some of the finest vintage red wine and you drank it slowly but steadily hoping he'd do the same

And to your luck he did. "This is delicious!" You exclaimed. "It is, isn't it? It wouldn't be half as good if it weren't for your help" he noticed your empty glass. "Would you like some more wine?" He asked. "Yes please" you answered handing him your glass. You were playing with fire tonight but if you played your cards right you'd be free before morning. He poured himself some more as well. You ate slowly but continued to drink and watched him carefully. You grew a bit woozy from the alcohol but you noticed so did he. You finished another glass and politely asked for a third but noticed he didn't refill. "You're not quitting on me are you? I thought the king of hell could hold his liquor" you challenged him

"Oh, haha! I certainly can... I suppose a little more couldn't hurt" he poured himself a third glass. This time you tried to drink slower than him and eat more. You saw his eyes grow tired. "Why don't you have some more?" You asked. "I shouldn't..." he replied slightly impaired. You walked over to him and began rubbing his shoulders. "You seem so tense Luci. You should relax a little" you worried he might be onto you so you read his thoughts

*I love them so much.. I'm glad they are here.... they're right I should let loose*

You leaned in and grabbed the wine pouring some in his glass as you whispered in his ear "It won't kill you to have a little fun will it?" He took the glass and began to drink his fourth glass while you still hadnt finished your third.

The fourth glass turned into the fifth and then the sixth as it usually goes. Suddenly you noticed the wine bottle was empty. "Oh no! We're all out!" You said in fake dramatic fashion. Lucifer was properly wasted now. You could probably wait for him to pass out but that wasn't enough time in your opinion.

"Tthe-thheerrres sommore in the cupboard..." he managed to say. He tried to stand but almost fell. "I'll get it just relax" you said. You took his glass and yours and went into the lavish kitchen. You looked back frequently to make sure he wasn't paying attention as you opened the cabinet filled with pills and found xanax and benadryl. You quickly crushed as many of each as you could with a big golden spoon and put it in the wine glass swishing it around to dissolve it

You then brought it over. "Here you go. Lets get that movie started." You walked over to the tv in the dining room and fiddled with the dvd player before putting in some cheesy romance you two had seen before a couple times. Lucifer drank his wine happily. You wondered how long it would take when he suddenly passed out face on the counter dropping his drink and spilling it all over the counter

"Lucifer..." you had to be sure he was actually out cold. You nudged him. "Lucifer. Lucifer..." you knew it had worked... you ran out the room

You ran through the halls, you ran from door to door before finding a flight of stairs and heading down, surprised that there were no staff members in this gigantic castle. He really was a loner. You made your way from floor to floor before you were finally at the bottom. The large front door was locked but a side door leading to garden was not

The fresh air was overwhelming to the point you were in tears. You ran through the garden and found your way back to the streets of hell

You weren't sure where you were going. Could you go back to the hotel? Would anyone believe you? Would anyone there even BE ABLE to help you? You continued running until you were out of breath. You had to think of something. You honestly didn't think you'd make it this far. But unless you somehow killed him (unlikely) he would wake up eventually and he would come after you. Your only hope was the hotel...

"Well. Well.... it must be my lucky day" a familiar staticky voice came from the shadows that lurked all around you...

@geminipridekitty @yourmom132 @scenteddelusion5

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere alastor #yandere lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #what's on your mind

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zerolockfan · 28 days ago

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🚀✨ CALL FOR PARTICIPANTS – ZERO x HARLOCK NEW FANZINE ✨🚀

It’s happening, everyone! A brand-new collaborative fan anthology dedicated to Warrius Zero and Captain Harlock is launching, and we want YOU to be part of it!

Artists and writers of all experience levels are welcome! This is a passion project made by and for fans who love this rare, wonderful ship. Whether you're a veteran or new to the crew, this zine is open to:

Fanart 🎨

Comics 📚

Fanfiction ✍️

(French fanfictions are welcome but will be translated in English and sent back for final review).

📌 THEME: THE BOOK OF LIFE

What has been, what could be...

Prompts & Ideas (Optional):

Cosmowarrior Zero playstation game backstory

Cosmowarrior Zero anime era

Older Warrius & Harlock in later timelines

Alternate universes, impossible dreams, shared regrets, stargazing, peace and war, longing and belonging…

Submissions must center around Zero x Harlock. All tones and genres welcome: romance, friendship, angst, comedy, introspection, soft smut, innuendos, heartbreak, or healing. Just keep it in good taste and suitable for a general audience (no explicit NSFW).

🖼️ LOOKING FOR A COVER ARTIST! If you'd like to apply to create the colored cover (or back cover), please let me know and send ideas!

📅 TIMELINE:

Call for participants: June 1st to July 15th

Final submissions due: September 15th

Release date: Fall 2025

🎨 FORMAT & TECHNICAL DETAILS:

Size: 7 x 10 inches

Print version: greyscale / black & white art only

Digital version: full color accepted!

Slight adjustments may be requested for layout/practicality (e.g., dark backgrounds, print safety zones), and in rare cases, submissions may be returned for revision or declined. Thank you for understanding!

💌 To participate or get more info: direct message me!

📘 FREE COPY FOR ALL PARTICIPANTS

Printed copy shipped to each accepted contributor

Digital version available free for all

Printed copies available at-cost on Ko-fi (non-profit, self-funded)

Let's have fun once again and fill the stars with them!! Thank you to all participants!!

#ZeroHarZine2025 #leijiverse #warrius zero #cosmo warrior zero #captain harlock #zerohar #zerolock #albator #harlock #captainharlock #leiji matsumoto

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forevergoldgame · 1 month ago

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2 MORE DAYS EVERYONE!!

LS here. Today I'm going to talk about my favorite thing: UI design. When it's good, it's utterly invisible, but when it's bad, everyone notices!

There were definitely some hurdles and hiccups in the UI design of the demo. Part of it was me being unfamiliar with my tools, part of it was not understanding some of the in-built features of the sugarcube twine template. Since then I've brushed up on my JS and restructured things to make the game more intuitive.

First up, we now have two different options for the choice menu! By default, the game displays the "scrolling list" as seen on the left. Using either touch controls or your mouse scroll wheel, you can cycle through the available options before making your choice... or if your device lacks touch/wheel options (or you dislike needless UI animation), you can set the choice menu to "static list" and have your options display in a plain list.

Next is the top bar! At first glance, the buttons might look the same as they did in the demo, but they are not. Yes, the larger of the two still leads to a (new) character summary, but the smaller button now opens the new glossary rather than than being a redundant link to the inventory.

The glossary is a small feature a few readers suggested and it does exactly what it says. It combs through the current passage and looks for vocabulary words which may be unfamiliar to readers.

As always, the glossary feature is meant to be a convenience for readers who may have taken breaks in their playthrough and would like a refresher. It's an anti-frustration feature, not "homework!"

The settings menu is much like it was before, but with a few new features. Changing the theme now changes the UI popups as well as the main layout, so no more white text on dark backgrounds for light theme users! Mobile users will also be happy to learn that you can adjust touch sensitivity - this should hopefully fix some of the issues with people triggering the touch menu when scrolling down the page.

(The touch sensitivity range given in the menu might be tweaked later though - I've only had a few people test mobile for me so my perception of "the average mobile device" has a lot of holes in it. Mobile users, you'll have to let me know if the range is too great/too small to be useful!)

The "You" page has been separated from the Party menu and overhauled. This was mentioned in a previous post, so I'll move on to how the Party menu has been restructured!

Wanting to have as much information as possible easily available, I did away with the individual subpages in favor of these smaller summaries you can scroll through (using touch, mousewheel, or buttons).

The longer, unclear lists of companion thoughts are now represented by almost equally vague relationship icons. The left icon gives you an overview on "what" your relationship is, while the right icon gives you an idea of its "tone." Broadly speaking, "low tension" relationships are ones where the given companion and Quincy largely agree, and "high tension" relations are ones where you do not. A friendship with high tension might manifest as a cheeky rivalry, while a low-tension enemy might be someone who resents Quincy but stays polite for the sake of shared goals.

The travel log has gotten a similar retool for ease of use. We've chosen to drop the framing of "quests" in favor of plainly listed "tasks." Itemizing story events as "quests" was a sort of holdover from early development, when we were still conceptualizing what "gameplay" for an IF story like this would even look like, but as development progressed, it became clear that was kind of an overcomplication.

The timeline on the synopsis page has also been done away with in favor of this woven history log which tracks the beginning/ending of arcs and some big ticket player choices. You can scroll through the squares for a brief reminder of what you did in your specific playthrough!

The inventory has been redone to better reflect how we're putting the inventory system to use in-game. Doing away with "notes," we now have three categories of inventory item: actual items, Quincy's observations, and oaths. What is an oath? You'll just have to find out!

The codex has received a ton of QoL updates - namely, better options for navigation and a simple search function. We've also altered the categories somewhat and reassessed what "deserves" an article and what should exist as an amendment to a larger article, as - for example - giving each and every named location a codex entry like we originally planned would very quickly spin out of control and overwhelm players. We hope the end result is a cleaner codex experience!

And, finally, we have the retooled map. Instead of awkwardly navigating submenus, we now have one huge map with everything on it! The player can navigate by either clicking the points on the map or the list of available locations. A selected location will display in the corner, and list any active story tasks associated with that location.

And that's all for today's post! We're so close to release, and I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts on what we've made!

-LS

#forever gold #if game #interactive fiction #twine if #twine game #twine story #twine wip #twine #twine interactive fiction #episode 1 announcement

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superwholock36 · 4 months ago

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~ A Little Taste of Heaven ~ (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader) (2/10)

Warnings: Action-packed violence/Injury and physical harm/Tense hostage situation/Guilt and emotional turmoil/Scenes of aggression/Superhuman conflict/Mentions of fear and panic /Destruction and property damage /Themes of redemption Summary " In the dead of night, Spider-Man faces a relentless gauntlet—hostages in peril, and the weight of a personal mistake he can’t ignore. When the final web is spun and the city begins to quiet, Peter Parker races back to East Harlem to make amends… but what he finds waiting there leaves him more shaken than any battle he's fought that night." Pt1 ________________________________________________ 🎵🎶Leave Me Lonely • Ariana Grande, Macy Gray 🎶🎵 ________________________________________________

The taste of her was still on his lips—sweet and electric, like a spark he couldn’t shake. The memory lingered, tangled up with the thrill of her touch. And then, of course, he’d gone and ruined it. He’d instinctively webbed her to the wall without an apology, and then bolted into the night.

The wind whipped past Peter’s mask as he swung between the sparkling skyscrapers of New York City, the glow of headlights and billboards painting streaks of light beneath him. Each pull of his web shot carried him farther from [Name], and the gnawing guilt settled deeper in his chest.

“Okay, so leaving her webbing the wall—not my best move,” Peter muttered under his breath. “She’s gonna kill me. If the bad guys don’t kill me first, she’s definitely gonna kill me,” Peter muttered, flipping into a sharp arc to avoid a billboard. The guilt was gnawing at him, but hey—saving people came first. Every time.

“Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent. “Update. Artisan and Carat—there are now ten armed suspects and five hostages. 6 are carrying military-grade weapons.”

“Oh, c’mon! Seriously? Ten?” Peter’s voice cracked as he nearly missed his next web anchor, scrambling to regain his momentum. “That’s, like...that’s a lot of bad guys! What, is this some kind of discount villain convention?”

He pushed himself harder, the wind slicing through the fabric of his suit as the lights of Midtown blurred around him. All he could think about—aside from the hostages, the suspects, and not smashing into a building—was her. Still webbed up, still waiting, and probably so mad at him. He had to finish this fast. Lives were on the line, and, okay, he really didn’t want her to hate him forever.

“Hang on, Midtown,” Peter mumbled, his heart pounding as he swung toward the chaos. “Spider-Man’s got this. I hope.”

“Peter, you’re five seconds out,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice chimed in, crisp and urgent. “Patching into the store’s CCTV feeds now.”

Peter adjusted his trajectory with a quick flick of his wrist, landing gracefully on a streetlamp just outside the Artisan and Carat storefront. The glowing jewellery displays inside sparkled mockingly against the chaos unfolding within. His mask’s lenses narrowed instinctively as a cascade of live video feeds appeared in his HUD, courtesy of F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Okay, what am I looking at?” Peter muttered, leaning forward slightly as his eyes darted across the feeds.

“Ten armed suspects. Hostages located in the central display area, surrounded on all sides,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. reported. A map of the store layout overlaid itself in his vision, with glowing red markers indicating each suspect’s position. “Two stationed near the entrance, three by the security office, one in the hallway behind the main floor, and the rest patrolling the perimeter. Routes are limited—main entry is compromised.”

“Of course it is,” Peter sighed, crouching lower on the streetlamp. “Because why would this ever be easy?”

His fingers flexed, the web shooters primed as he scanned the options F.R.I.D.A.Y. provided. Focus, Parker, he told himself. The lives of five hostages depended on him not screwing this up.

“Recommend silent entry through the ventilation system,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. added, her tone professional and measured. “Minimal risk of detection. I’ll guide you through.”

Peter exhaled, shaking out his hands. “Alright, Spidey, you’ve got this. Silent, sneaky, save the day, and then—then—I can get back to, uh…dealing with my terrible decision-making skills.”

He fired a webline upward, launching himself toward the rooftop. “Let’s do this.”

________________________________________________________

Peter shuffled forward slowly, the metallic groan of the ventilation shaft echoing beneath him. He cringed at every creak, his palms sticking lightly to the smooth steel as he crawled.

“Okay, Peter, easy does it,” he whispered under his breath. “No sudden moves, no loud noises. Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man sneaking through a vent like a total pro. Totally not claustrophobic or anything. Nope. Not at all.”

“Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice interrupted, hushed but urgent in his ear. “The hostages are being moved. They’re heading toward the vault at the back of the store.”

Peter’s stomach tightened. He shifted forward slightly, his mask’s lenses narrowing as a live feed appeared in his HUD. The robbers were ushering the terrified hostages through the showroom, their footsteps heavy against the marble floor. The muffled sound of voices reached Peter’s ears, but the words were foreign—sharp and guttural.

“Wait, are they speaking…Russian?” Peter murmured, tilting his head as if it would help him hear better.

“Affirmative,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied. “Translating now.”

The audio feed filtered into his mask, the sharp tones softening into English. “—move faster. The police will be here soon. You want to get caught? No? Then stop wasting time.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Peter muttered, inching forward as he tried to position himself directly above the hostages. He pressed his palm lightly against the vent grate, peering down at the scene below. The armed suspects looked even more intimidating up close, their movements sharp and coordinated.

“Update two armed suspects are stationed near the hostages,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him. “Three others are guarding the hallway. One is overseeing the vault preparations. The remaining four are patrolling the store perimeter.”

Peter exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching against the vent. No pressure, Parker. Just ten bad guys, military-grade weapons, five scared hostages, and you stuck in a tin can. His voice softened to a whisper, almost like a mantra. “You’ve got this, Spidey. You’ve got this.”

The Russian voices continued below as F.R.I.D.A.Y. translated. “The diamonds go first. Everything else can wait.” Another robber barked out a quick command. “Keep the hostages close. No hero moves."

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, about that ‘no hero moves’ part...you’re not gonna love what happens next.”

He shifted his weight on the vent grate, the metal letting out a soft groan. The robber patrolling the floor below had no clue what was coming. Peter’s mask lenses narrowed as he tightened his grip, a subtle grin pulling at his mouth.

“Time to make this quick,” he murmured. With a flick of his wrist, a thin webline shot downward, catching silently on the vent. In one fluid motion, Peter dropped through, swinging feet-first into the unsuspecting thug. The impact was sharp and precise, knocking the man unconscious before he could even shout.

Peter landed lightly, crouching over the limp figure. “Nighty-night,” he whispered, Acting quickly, he fired several weblines, cocooning the robber and sticking him securely to the ceiling, well out of sight from anyone else. Peter’s gaze flicked upward, checking his handiwork. “There. Problem solved.”

The faint creak of footsteps echoed from the far side of the display room. Peter darted behind a glass case stacked with glittering necklaces, flattening himself against the marble floor as F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice chimed in his ear.

“Peter, two suspects from the perimeter patrol have entered the display area. Currently at your twelve and three o’clock. Both are armed.”

Peter peeked out cautiously, his mask lenses adjusting their focus. One of the men was pacing near the main entrance, glancing nervously at his surroundings. The other hovered by a corner display, his rifle slung low but ready.

“Great,” Peter whispered to himself. “Double the fun.” He ducked back down, his mind racing through options. Silent takedowns? A distraction? A burst of webbing? Whatever he did, it had to be fast, clean, and—most importantly—quiet. The hostages didn’t have time for mistakes.

The muffled wail of distant sirens began to filter in, growing louder with every second. Peter ducked lower behind the display case.

Peter peeked out cautiously. The two robbers in the room were visibly on edge now, their movements jittery as they glanced toward the entrance. One muttered something sharp in Russian, and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s calm translation followed immediately.

“Be ready. Watch the entrance.”

“Perfect,” Peter muttered sarcastically. “Nothing like a little siren-induced panic to spice things up.”

The two men started moving closer to each other, their nervous glances sweeping the showroom. Peter’s lenses narrowed as he assessed the situation. If they stuck together, it’d be harder to pick them off quietly. He had to act now.

“Alright, Spidey,” he whispered to himself, his fingers flexing against the smooth marble floor. “Quick, clean, no screw-ups.”

In a blur of motion, Peter popped out from behind the case, firing a webline directly at the first robber’s gun. The weapon jerked from the man’s hands, clattering across the floor. Before the robber could react, Peter shot another web, pinning him securely to the large window display. The thug struggled briefly, his muffled curses barely audible over the sirens outside.

“Window shopping’s over, pal” Peter quipped, glancing at his handiwork.

The second robber shouted in alarm, his semi automatic rifle snapping up as he took aim. Peter’s spider-sense flared—a sharp, instinctive jolt that sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. Before the shot could fire, Peter launched into a series of backflips, the bullets zipping harmlessly past him and embedding into a nearby jewelry case.

“Whoa! Hey, watch it!” Peter called out mid-flip, landing nimbly on the far side of the room. “Do you know how expensive this place is? You’re gonna get a huge bill for damages.”

The robber’s face twisted in frustration as he scrambled to reload. Giving up, his hand darted to his belt, pulling out a fixed-blade knife that gleamed under the store’s overhead lights. Peter’s lenses narrowed as the man squared up, his movements sharp and deliberate.

“Oh, great. A knife. Because that’s just what this party needed,” Peter muttered, easing into a defensive stance. “Do you guys, like, have a group discount at Dangerous Stuff Emporium or something?”

Before the robber could lunge, F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice cut in, urgent and calm all at once. “The fourth patrolling suspect has heard the gunshots and notified the rest of the group. Two of the suspects guarding the hostages are now heading to assist the one at the vault. Peter, the hostages are on the move. Assessing their condition now… Three of them are injured—nonfatal wounds—but they’re visibly frightened."

Peter’s stomach twisted as her words hit him, the weight of the situation pressing harder than the knife-wielding thug in front of him. From the corner of the room, faint screams carried through the store, the sound rattling in his ears. His fists clenched instinctively, the need to act pulling at him like a physical force.

But first—he had to deal with the guy in front of him.

The robber lunged suddenly, the blade slicing toward Peter in a flash of silver. His spider-sense flared, and Peter dodged nimbly to the side, his movements fluid and instinctive.

“Whoa! Careful there, buddy!” Peter quipped, flipping backward as the man lunged again. “This is a jewellery store, not a sushi bar!”

“Look, buddy,” Peter quipped, dodging another strike with a nimble twist, “I’m all for bonding activities, but this? Not my idea of a good time!”

The thug growled in frustration, adjusting his grip on the knife as he closed in, slashing with deliberate, calculated strikes. Peter stayed light on his feet, weaving and ducking, his Spidey-sense keeping him just out of reach. Each swipe of the blade sent Peter twisting and pivoting like a dancer, the air between him and the blade narrowing with every move.

“Look, I get it—you’re mad,” Peter quipped, ducking low to avoid another slash. “But swinging a knife around? That’s just bad conflict resolution.”

The faintest hum from his Spidey-sense jolted Peter into action as the second thug—the one who had snuck up behind him—came barreling forward. This one was stockier, with knuckle dusters glinting ominously on his gloves, the steel edges jagged and brutal. He muttered something harsh in Russian, his tone laced with malice. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s calm translation filtered through Peter’s HUD.

“Hold him down. Make it quick.”

“Oh, fantastic. Teamwork,” Peter muttered, twisting just in time to avoid the fist aimed straight for his head. The punch swung wide, narrowly missing him, but the force alone was enough to send a gust of air past his mask. That would’ve hurt. A lot.

Before Peter could recover, the first thug lunged again, the knife slashing upward in a clean arc. Peter bent backward sharply, the blade skimming so close he swore he felt the fabric of his suit ripple. “Whoa! Okay, okay, I get it—you really want me out of the picture. Message received!”

The two thugs spoke hurriedly in Russian, their voices low and urgent. F.R.I.D.A.Y. translated in real-time. “Stay close. Don’t let him move. We end this now.”

Peter’s mind raced as he dodged the knife and ducked under another wild swing from the knuckle dusters. He was sandwiched between them now, the threats on either side forcing him into tighter, faster movements. His Spidey-sense flared again, sharp and insistent, guiding him through the chaos.

The knife-wielder feinted left before lunging to the right, aiming for Peter’s ribs. At the same moment, the thug with the knuckle dusters swung downward in a brutal arc, aiming for Peter’s head. Peter twisted sideways, threading the narrow gap between them with a burst of adrenaline-fueled agility.

“Guys, come on,” Peter said, landing in a crouch just out of their reach. “You’re making this way harder than it has to be. I mean, I get it—you’re bad guys, it’s your whole thing—but could we maybe…not?”

The knuckle duster thug growled and lunged again, his heavy footsteps thundering against the floor as he bore down on Peter like a freight train. Peter leapt upward, twisting in mid-air as the punch sailed past beneath him. He fired a quick webline at the man’s wrist, yanking his arm backward and throwing him off balance.

The knife-wielder seized the moment, charging forward, blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Peter landed lightly, his feet skidding slightly across the marble as he spun to face him. His Spidey-sense whispered another warning, and Peter ducked low, the blade narrowly missing his shoulder.

Peter crouched low, his breaths coming fast and shallow as he dodged another wild swing from the knife-wielding thug. The air was thick with tension, the sharp tang of adrenaline buzzing in his veins. He shifted his weight, readying himself for the next move, when something unexpected hit him—a faint, lingering scent clinging to the inside of his mask.

It was her. The subtle, familiar trace of her, or maybe just the warmth of her skin. It was enough to pull him out of the moment for a fraction of a second, his mind flashing back to the alley, to the way she’d looked at him before he’d bolted.

That sliver of distraction was all it took.

The knuckle duster thug seized the opening, lunging forward with a brutal swing. Peter’s Spidey-sense flared too late, and the punch connected hard with his ribs. Pain exploded through his side, sharp and immediate, as the force sent him stumbling back. He gasped, clutching his ribs instinctively. That’s gonna leave a mark.

“Okay, ow,” Peter groaned, his voice tight as he straightened up, forcing himself to focus. The scent still lingered, teasing at the edges of his thoughts, but now it served as a reminder—a reason to push through. He had to finish this. Fast. Lives were on the line, and he needed to get back to her.

“Alright, big guy,” Peter muttered, his voice laced with determination as he squared up again. “You got one good hit. Don’t get used to it.”

Peter gritted his teeth, the sharp pain in his ribs flaring with every movement. There was no room for jokes now, no time for distractions. He had to end this—fast.

The knife-wielding thug lunged again, his blade slicing through the air in a deadly arc. Peter sidestepped, his movements sharp and precise despite the ache in his side. He caught the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the floor, and Peter followed up with a swift elbow to the thug’s jaw. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Peter barely had time to catch his breath before the knuckle duster thug charged at him, fists raised and ready. Each step the man took sent a dull thud reverberating through the showroom. Peter’s ribs screamed in protest as he dodged the first swing, the jagged steel of the knuckle dusters grazing the air where his head had been a second earlier.

The thug swung again, this time aiming low. Peter leapt backward, firing a webline at the doorframe behind him. He anchored another line to the opposite side, creating a taut web across the entrance. The thug didn’t seem to notice, his focus locked on Peter as he lunged forward.

Peter planted his feet firmly, the pain in his ribs momentarily forgotten as he launched himself forward with all the force he could muster. His feet connected squarely with the thug’s chest, the impact sending the man hurtling backward. The thug crashed through the shop’s front doors, the glass shattering around him as he slammed into a fire hydrant outside. He was out cold.

The sudden cacophony of breaking glass set off the store’s alarms, their shrill wail cutting through the night. Peter landed lightly on his feet, his chest heaving as he took a moment to steady himself. The pain in his ribs was sharp and unrelenting, but he pushed it aside. There was no time to dwell on it—not with the hostages still in danger.

_____________________________________________________

The back hall was dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs flickering sporadically, casting long, jagged shadows across the narrow space. Peter’s breathing was laboured, every sharp inhale sending a jolt of pain through his bruised ribs. The floor was scattered with debris—splintered wood from a broken door and shards of glass from a shattered overhead light.

The first one had gone down hard, his rifle now a harmless pile of twisted metal in the corner. Peter had disarmed him with a quick web yank, then sent him sprawling into the wall with a spinning kick that left a dent in the plaster. The man slumped unconscious against the base of the stairs, his weapon webbed securely out of reach.

The second had been more persistent, firing bursts of suppressive shots as Peter darted between the narrow columns that lined the hallway. His Spidey-sense had been in overdrive, guiding him through the chaos as bullets ricocheted off the walls. With a perfectly timed leap, Peter had dropped down onto the guy from above, using his momentum to knock the weapon loose before pinning him to the floor with webbing.

Peter barely had a chance to catch his breath when a low creak echoed from the stairwell. His head snapped around just in time to see the third robber emerge from below, shotgun in hand and a determined glint in his eye. This guy was bigger, calmer—more methodical than the others. As he stepped fully into the hallway, the weight of the shotgun made Peter’s ribs ache just looking at it.

The first blast came without warning, tearing through the air where Peter had just been standing. His Spidey-sense flared, guiding him as he flipped backward, the blast ripping chunks out of the wall behind him. This wasn’t a fight Peter could rush—one wrong move and that shotgun could easily end the night early.

The man stepped closer, each footfall echoing ominously as he chambered another round. Peter swung low, firing web after web to tangle his legs, but the guy shook them off with surprising strength. Another blast roared down the hallway, the force sending Peter diving behind a toppled cabinet for cover.

Peter’s mind raced as he tried to find an opening. Swinging upward, he used the flickering light to his advantage, landing silently on the ceiling above the robber. With a sudden web yank, the shotgun was ripped from the man’s hands, clattering down the stairs behind him. Before the guy could react, Peter dropped down, delivering a sharp kick that sent him tumbling back into the stairwell.

The back hall was dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs flickering sporadically, casting long, jagged shadows across the narrow space. Peter’s breathing was labored, every sharp inhale sending a jolt of pain through his bruised ribs. The floor was scattered with debris—splintered wood from a broken door and shards of glass from a shattered overhead light.

The first robber had gone down hard, his rifle now a harmless pile of twisted metal in the corner. Peter had disarmed him with a quick web yank, then sent him sprawling into the wall with a spinning kick that left a dent in the plaster. The man slumped unconscious against the base of the stairs, his weapon webbed securely out of reach.

Descending down led Peter straight to the vault room. The NYPD wouldn’t have been alerted until the alarms went off—he knew it was only a matter of time before reinforcements arrived. But time was a luxury the hostages didn’t have.

He edged closer to the door, his ribs screaming with every step, each breath a struggle. Through the faint gap in the doorframe, he caught sight of the situation inside. Two of the robbers stood in the center of the room, their weapons trained on the hostages huddled together against the far wall. There were five of them—three women and two men—shaking visibly under the weight of fear. Three were injured but conscious, clutching their wounds as they leaned against the others for support.

A third man was at the vault, crouched low as he worked furiously at the keypad. The store’s manager had been pulled from the hostages, standing stiffly beside the vault-cracker, their face pale with fear as they muttered sharp instructions in Russian. Peter’s lenses narrowed as the translation filtered through F.R.I.D.A.Y.

"It’s Spider-Man. He’s here. The police are coming, we’re running out of time. Stop shaking—focus on the lock."

Peter clenched his fists, his focus sharpening. The two gunmen in the center of the room were jittery, their movements jumpy and erratic, their fingers twitching near the triggers. Every creak of the floorboards or faint wail of the alarm outside made them flinch, and with each flinch, their aggression toward the hostages escalated. One of them barked out something harsh in Russian, his voice rising with irritation.

"Stop crying," F.R.I.D.A.Y. translated flatly. "Keep them quiet, or I’ll make them quiet."

Peter’s heart twisted as one of the women broke into soft, muffled sobs, her hands trembling as she clutched her knees. The tension in the room climbed another notch when she stammered out a desperate plea, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear.

“Please... I have a child at home. Please don’t hurt me.”

Her words hit like a gut punch. Even from the door, Peter could see the robbers stiffen, their jittery movements becoming even more erratic as they barked at her to stay quiet. The woman clamped a hand over her mouth, the other hostages pulling her closer as she shook uncontrollably.

Peter’s jaw clenched. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to move, to act, but he forced himself to stay still for another moment, taking in every detail of the room. The two gunmen with the hostages were dangerously on edge, their fingers too close to the triggers for comfort. The vault-cracker was focused but tense, muttering sharp commands to the manager while the hostages whimpered quietly in the corner.

He had to act—and fast. One wrong move could tip the balance, but every second wasted was another second the hostages stayed in danger. Peter tightened his grip on the doorframe. There was no room for hesitation now.

He burst through the door in a blur of red and blue. “Hey, guys!” Peter called out, his voice sharp but tinged with that familiar nervous energy. “I think it’s time we wrap this up, don’t you?”

The room erupted into chaos. The hostages screamed, scrambling to shield themselves as the robbers turned their attention to Peter. But it wasn’t the two gunmen who moved first—it was the man at the vault.

Peter’s eyes widened as the boss straightened up, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the room. Without a word, the man turned and struck the store manager with a backhanded blow so powerful it sent them flying into a desk near the hostages. The crash was deafening, the desk splintering under the impact. The hostages screamed louder, their panic spilling over as they huddled closer together.

“Stay back!” one of the men shouted, his voice cracking as he tried to shield the injured hostages. “Please, don’t hurt us!”

Peter’s heart pounded as he darted forward, his web shooters primed, the boss’s cold, calculating gaze fixed on Peter, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he relished the challenge. He turned his head slightly, barking out a sharp command in Russian, his voice like gravel as it echoed through the vault room.

"Take out the hostages," F.R.I.D.A.Y. translated in Peter’s ear, her tone flat and urgent. "I’ll deal with the pest."

Peter’s stomach dropped as the two gunmen hesitated for a split second before pivoting toward the huddled hostages. Their jittery nerves turned into something far more dangerous as they levelled their weapons at the terrified group.

“No, no, no, no!” Peter blurted, his lenses widening as he fired a webline at the nearest gunman. The web connected, yanking the man’s rifle upward just as he pulled the trigger. The shot fired harmlessly into the ceiling, sending chunks of plaster raining down, but the other gunman was already aiming at the hostages.

Peter moved fast, swinging across the room to cut off the second gunman. His Spidey-sense screamed as he dodged the rifle’s barrel by inches, firing a burst of webbing to stick the man’s gun to the far wall. The hostages screamed and ducked lower, one of the women sobbing uncontrollably as chaos erupted around them.

“Stay down!” Peter yelled, glancing back at the group. “I’ve got this, I promise! Just stay as low as you can!”

Before Peter could fully turn his attention back to the fight, the boss charged. It was like being hit by a truck—Peter barely had time to register the movement before he was slammed into the wall, the breath knocked out of him. His ribs protested violently, the earlier bruising flaring into sharp, searing pain.

The boss stepped back, his expression cool and composed as he cracked his knuckles. “You think you’re clever, Spider-Man,” he said, his thick accent wrapping around every word. “But you are nothing. Just a bug to crush.”

Peter coughed, struggling to catch his breath as he pushed himself off the wall. His mind raced, the realization settling in that this wasn’t just brute strength—this guy had power, dangerous power.

“Well,” Peter groaned, wiping at his mask as he steadied himself, “I guess I’ll just have to be extra annoying, huh?”

The boss didn’t respond, instead pivoting back toward the vault. He raised his fist and punched the metal door, the force of the blow reverberating through the room. Peter watched in alarm as cracks began to spiderweb around the outline of the vault door, the impossible strength on full display.

“Oh, come on,” Peter muttered, his voice shaky with disbelief.

The boss turned back to him, a dark smile spreading across his face as he stepped forward. Peter braced himself, every muscle coiled, ready to defend the hostages and face whatever came next.

Peter’s lenses narrowed as he quickly assessed the room. The two disarmed robbers were still dangerous—desperation had set in, and that made them unpredictable. Meanwhile, the boss was closing in, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as he advanced toward Peter, a dark grin spreading across his face.

"Alright, guys, let’s do this the hard way," Peter muttered, flipping backward to create some distance between himself, the robbers, and the hostages. His mind raced as he planned his next moves, his Spidey-sense tingling faintly as it stayed alert to every threat in the room.

One of the unarmed robbers lunged first, fists raised, trying to tackle Peter with brute force. Peter twisted sharply, sidestepping the charge and firing a webline at the man’s leg. The robber stumbled mid-stride, his momentum sending him tumbling to the floor as Peter pulled the web tight.

“Stay down, please,” Peter quipped, already turning his attention to the second robber. But before he could act, his Spidey-sense flared. He turned his head sharply to see the boss taking a threatening step toward the hostages, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over the trembling group.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Peter shouted, firing a quick webline at the boss’s arm. The web snapped taut, but the man tore through it effortlessly, his eyes narrowing as his attention shifted back to Peter.

“Hostages are off-limits,” Peter growled, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You’ve got a problem? Deal with me.”

The distraction gave the second robber a chance to rush Peter, throwing a wide, clumsy punch. Peter ducked low, firing a burst of webbing to stick the man’s arm to his side. In one smooth movement, he spun and delivered a calculated kick to the robber’s chest, sending him crashing into the far wall.

The first robber, still tangled in Peter’s webbing, was scrambling to get back on his feet. Peter fired twin webs at the ceiling and used them to launch himself upward, flipping over the man’s head. With precise timing, he shot another web, catching the robber mid-motion and suspending him upside-down from the ceiling in a tight cocoon.

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the faint hum of alarms and the hostages’ frightened murmurs. Peter glanced over at them, relieved to see they were still unharmed, though visibly shaken.

But his relief was cut short by the boss’s low, threatening growl. The man slammed his fist into the floor, the impact leaving deep cracks in the concrete. Peter landed lightly, already bracing himself as the boss stepped forward, his focus now entirely on Peter.

“Alright, big guy,” Peter said quietly, his voice edged with determination. “Guess it’s just you and me now.”

The boss cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously in the vault room. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto Peter, and for a moment, the air felt heavier, charged with the promise of violence. Peter shifted his stance, his muscles coiled and ready, his Spidey-sense humming faintly in the back of his mind.

“You’ve got guts, Spider-Man,” the boss said, his thick accent wrapping around the words like a threat. “But guts won’t save you.”

“Yeah, well,” Peter shot back, his voice steady despite the tension, “I’ve got more than guts. I’ve got... uh, webs. And cardio. Lots of cardio.”

The boss didn’t wait for another quip. He lunged forward with startling speed, his massive fist swinging in a wide arc. Peter ducked just in time, the force of the punch whistling past his head and slamming into the wall behind him. The impact left a crater in the concrete, dust and debris raining down around them.

“Okay, noted,” Peter muttered, flipping backward to create some distance. “You hit like a wrecking ball. Good to know.”

The boss didn’t let up, charging at Peter with relentless aggression. Peter leapt to the side, firing a webline at the man’s shoulder to try and slow him down. But the boss tore through the webbing with ease, his strength almost unreal. He swung again, and this time, his fist connected with Peter’s side, sending him flying into the wall.

Peter hit the concrete hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, his vision swimming for a moment as he struggled to regain his footing. The boss advanced, his heavy footsteps echoing like a countdown.

“Stay down,” the boss growled, his voice low and menacing. “You’re out of your league, kid.”

Peter shook his head, forcing himself to stand. “Yeah, see, that’s the thing about me,” he said, his voice strained but defiant. “I don’t know when to quit.”

The boss lunged again, but this time, Peter was ready. He ducked low, sliding between the man’s legs and firing a webline at his back. Using the momentum, Peter swung upward, planting both feet into the boss’s shoulders and sending him stumbling forward.

The boss roared in frustration, spinning around to face Peter. He grabbed a nearby desk and hurled it across the room like it weighed nothing. Peter dodged, flipping over the flying furniture and landing lightly on the other side.

“Okay, seriously,” Peter said, firing another webline to stick the boss’s arm to the wall. “Do you even lift, bro? Because this is getting ridiculous.”

The boss ripped his arm free, but Peter was already moving. He darted around the room, firing webs to slow the man down, using his agility to stay one step ahead. The boss swung wildly, each punch powerful enough to shatter concrete, but Peter’s Spidey-sense kept him just out of reach.

Finally, Peter saw his opening. He fired twin weblines at the ceiling and launched himself forward, feet-first. The force of the kick slammed into the boss’s chest, sending him crashing into the vault door. The metal groaned under the impact, but the boss didn’t get back up this time. He slumped against the door, dazed and defeated.

Peter landed lightly, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. “And that,” he said, pointing at the unconscious boss, “is why you don’t mess with Spider-Man.”

The hostages stared in stunned silence for a moment before one of them whispered, “He did it.” Relief washed over the room as Peter turned to face them, his lenses narrowing with determination.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Let’s get you out of here.”

____________________________________________________

Peter swung through the city at breakneck speed, the cool night air rushing past him as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. The wail of sirens faded behind him, replaced by the hum of traffic and the distant chatter of East Harlem. He left the robbers webbed up like party decorations in the vault room, knowing the NYPD could handle the rest.

"Peter," F.R.I.D.A.Y. cut in, her voice calm but steady, "the NYPD have secured the scene. Hostages are safe, and the suspects are in custody. You did well."

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Peter murmured, though there wasn’t much relief in his tone. His mind was already somewhere else—back in the alley where he’d left her. Guilt twisted in his chest, sharper than any punch or bruise he’d taken tonight.

Peter landed softly in the alley, his heart pounding with anticipation. The dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminated the narrow space, but his lenses adjusted, scanning every corner. He expected to see her—[name]—still where he had left her, still bound by the webbing he’d used in his panic. But the alley was empty.

His breath hitched as his gaze darted around, searching for any sign of her. The only thing left was the faint, sticky residue of the web he’d hit her wrist with, clinging to the brick wall like a ghost of his mistake. The sight of it made his stomach twist.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Peter said, his voice tight, “where is she? Can you track her?”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, her tone calm but tinged with something almost apologetic. “There’s no trace of her in the immediate vicinity. She must have freed herself and left.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped as he stepped closer to the wall, his fingers brushing against the remnants of the webbing. He’d left her here, vulnerable and alone, and now she was gone.

He took a shaky breath, his mind racing. She couldn’t have gone far—his apartment wasn’t far from here, and the streets of East Harlem were quiet at this hour. But the thought of her wandering off, hurt or angry or scared, made his chest tighten.

“I have to find her,” he muttered, more to himself than to F.R.I.D.A.Y. He turned, his movements quick and purposeful as he prepared to swing off again. The faint twinge in his ribs reminded him he wasn’t at full strength, but he ignored it. None of that mattered now. He had to make this right.

__________________________________________________

Soooooo.... This is more background for Peter. and what happens when he leave [you] to deal with the Heist happening! I promise there will be more interactions between you both, I just got carried away writing the action hahah.... I also was only thinking about this being 3 part story but I'm having so much fun that it may be a bit longer then 3 parts 😳😘

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #female insert #marvel insert #peter x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #action #miscommunication #spiderman #spiderman x reader #into the spider verse

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