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[helloheyhihowdyheya]

obsessed bf x obsessed gf

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

ok im about to think about the Character!! im so Excited 😊😊

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Haha yes they did!! I put them through a lot, but I couldn’t make them suffer at the daily bugle any longer lol

I’m so glad you liked the series! Thank you so much for reading all of it and reblogging with your kind words ❤️

Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 5 (final)

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Masterlist

Summary: Spider-Man saved everyone he could. But this time, you have to save him — and yourself.

Word count: ~10.4k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! (We're finally to the lovers part <3) Canon-level violence. Swearing, blood, injuries. Angst. Fluff and more fluff!! Love confessions!!! And smooching ;)

A/n: Today's my birthday, so here's a little birthday present to all of you :) Thank you all for your patience with this story. It's the longest one I've written, and I'm grateful for everyone that's read it. Your comments mean the world.

I'd be happy to write an epilogue or little snippets of their lives during or after this story if anyone would be interested. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy <3

Pain. Unrelenting pain settling deep into your body was the first thing you noticed. Your closed eyes squeezed shut harder as the back of your head pounded, a shaky exhale leaving your cracked lips. You could feel dried tears stuck along the planes of your cheeks.

When you tried moving your arms, you found you couldn’t — not with them bound behind you to the chair you sat in, and not with the deep ache stretching from your shoulders down to your wrists. The skin there felt rubbed nearly raw by rope holding them together. Even your chest and ankles were tied to the chair. 

Despite the ache in your ribs, you forced yourself to take long, deep breaths. Each one shook through you. Blinking slowly, you let your blurry vision adjust. The bright fluorescents were now dimmer than before, only half of them on. You shivered slightly, goosebumps raising across your skin in the cool temperature of the warehouse. 

Forms of people here and there began to come into focus in front of you. They seemed to be packing things into large boxes, the same wooden ones you’d seen before. And as you took in the tall windows and many shelves, you saw that you were in a shadowy corner of this godforsaken warehouse.

You could’ve screamed if your throat wasn’t so dry and your head wasn’t swimming. Your jaw ached as you clenched your teeth together over and over again. Panicked, uncontrolled thoughts flew through your hazy awareness. No matter how hard you tried to swallow them back, you couldn’t ignore the worry festering in your stomach — one uneasy idea decomposing into another.

Where was Peter?

A thin breath punched from your lungs as you remembered the hurt in his voice over the phone. He’d never allowed you to see him like that before, but still, you could picture his face twisting and the blood staining his suit dark. The image floated on the edges of your vision as you scanned the people moving throughout the warehouse.

Somehow, no guard stood watch over you. If what Will had said before about his horrible suit being missing, his workers must have been scouring the city — stretching his people thin and unable to be everywhere all at once.

With a possible window of opportunity open and beckoning you to take, you shifted your wrists, testing out the rope around them. Wiggling your arms made the binding a tiny bit looser. Each movement stretched them out but brought burning pain with it. It wouldn’t get you anywhere but tired and too hurt to function.

Like Peter, desperate and hurt. Who tried to keep you from walking into your demise… using secrets and lies. You clenched your teeth, hoping the pressure of it could shove away these half-feelings twisting and knotting around themselves.

So, you looked around, careful not to turn your head too abruptly in case any workers looked over. Though, even from afar, all of them looked terrified to do anything but hastily pack. Orders from Will himself, you were sure of it.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a jagged metal beam broken and sticking out from a beat-up shelf. It looked dull, but it came to a point. It’d have to do.

As silently as you could, you used your feet to inch the chair backward — timing each push with the sound of people shouting at one another or loudly loading up a crate. Your ears rang and your rapid heartbeat dulled your focus, distracting you with each intense spike of your nerves firing off.

Over several minutes, you positioned your bound hands to the piece of metal shelving and began to rub the rope across it. You paused at each lull, each possible moment that you might be caught. It gave you temporary relief from the strain pulling in your shoulders as you continued sawing away at the rope.

Sweat beaded across your skin as time passed — how long exactly, you weren’t sure. But eventually, the strands turned thinner. They felt as tight and ready to snap as your resolve. But when the rope loosened, becoming big enough for your hands to wiggle out, it instead filled your body with quenching relief.

The rope had barely pooled along the concrete floor before you began working on the binding stretching across your chest to hold your torso to the chair. It was tedious and forced your aching arms in horrible positions, but you pulled and pulled at the binding, squirming around to even gain an inch of room.

It kept catching on the bunched-up fabric of your clothes, but it moved. So, so slowly, it moved. It was an effort to keep your breaths silent when you wanted nothing more than to just shout for anyone to come help you. But Peter wasn’t here to help, so you sunk your teeth into your lip and kept quiet as the rope loosened.

Pushing your elbows out, you slipped the rope over your head. You allowed yourself only one unrestrained inhale before bending at the waist and working on the knot tying your ankles to the chair. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes constantly trained on the workers as you moved. But the sight of that rope falling from your body made you blink away stinging tears.

Your best bet would likely be looking for a back exit and hoping you could sneak by anyone there — or fight your way out if it came to that. On unsteady legs, you raised yourself up, ignoring the wave of sharp pain pulsing at the back of your head and down your spine.

But before you could even take a step, get a real breath of freedom in your lungs, a sharp blade appeared at your neck.

“Going somewhere, sunshine?”

Within an instant, William Beaumont appeared next to you, and had he not held a tight grip to your upper arm, you might have collapsed. Though the blade pressed against you, your body instinctually writhed to get away from him. But even in the dim lighting, you saw the darkness that clung to him, the stillness in his eyes, the heavy weight he held. This wasn’t the Will you met before.

“Or Rose, is it?” he asked, his voice cold and calculated.

He pulled you forward and yanked your arms behind you. Your throat felt tight, your chest ready to rip open as you felt a zip tie tighten around your wrists — the plastic rubbing right where the rope had been just minutes ago. It had been too easy. Did he give you that hope on purpose? Just a lion toying with its food? A wretched feeling of fear shot through you at the thought. 

Will shoved you back in the chair, a labored grunt shooting out of your lungs and a dizziness hitting you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to get up again, he took a step back, careful to keep the long blade pointed at your throat. 

You dully registered a piece of wood rolling to your feet as Will aimlessly paced before you, kicking scattered debris. Sweat coated his skin, his hair damp against his forehead. For a minute, he just wordlessly walked back and forth, his eyes staring unfocused toward the ground. But you couldn’t look at his face for long, not with the sunken shadows settling into each curve of his expression. He almost looked sickly. Your gaze instead dropped to the handgun tucked into the back of his waistband; then you looked to the sharp piece of metal in his hand, recognizing it as one of the wrecked pieces from the Green Goblin’s glider.

When he paused, your breaths stopping too, he turned to stare at you. “Where’s my suit?” he asked, simply and without room for negotiation.

Despite the nearly deafening roaring of your heartbeat, you held his stare and willed your voice to come out steady. “Where’s your father?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you wondered how you hadn’t ever seen the similarities between those two before — the eerie air around them. 

“Ellis is a bit busy at the moment. Why? Want to snoop around his mansion some more?” He tilted his head, pursing his lips just slightly. The look brought an anger next to your fear — anger and frustration that they could do good with what they had and keep their promises, but they were just adding more filth to the city.

He came closer then, squatting down so he was nearly eye level with you. You could barely stand to look at him this close, but you did your best not to flinch away. It was just another character you had to play. 

Almost unnoticeable, you saw him wince in pain as he lowered. Watching him, you swallowed the fear trickling down your spine and asked, “Feeling sore?” At his unimpressed look, you merely squared your shoulders, raising your chin.

A breathy half-laugh escaped his lips. He stared down at his hand as he flexed it.  “Jus’ some growing pains…” He shrugged. “ No change comes without a cost.”

“And is the cost worth all this?” you asked, your eyes motioning to the wreckage of the warehouse behind him.

“I’m just living up to the Beaumont family name. We’re cutting through endless miles of red tape with a snap of my fingers. I think you know the answer.”

“Your fingers?” you questioned. “Ellis is making you do all the dirty work?”

Will just rolled his eyes, his grip growing tighter on the blade. Letting out a sharp breath, he stood up, his body wavering just barely as he did so. Still, you went rigid as he towered over you. “Where’s the suit?”

You shook your head, trying to stay calm. But your resolve, this mask, pulled in all directions. “You said you wanted to educate people. What kind of change can be worth whatever you have planned? Worth a super suit and bodily experiments?” You remembered the way he’d bent the shelving’s metal like it was nothing.

“I prefer the term enhancements actually. Because they have made me better. Made it easier to ‘negotiate’ with clients. To educate the city on who really controls things around here.” He stared down at you, letting his words sink in.

Your tone rose, a tightness taking hold of your throat. “And who controls it? It’s certainly not you if your daddy’s bossing you around.” Despite the cold anger flaring behind his features, you continued. “Who says he won’t just keep you as his little lackey to do his bidding forever?”

His jaw twitched, his hand gripping the blade harder. You fought the terrified waves of nausea sitting in your stomach as he said, “Shut your mouth. You know nothing about the empire he’s planned for me.”

Your voice lowered with venom pooling around your tongue, one eyebrow raising. “Oh, and he’d never lie for his own personal gain, right? Even at the harm of others?”

“Where’s the suit?” he gritted out.

“I don’t know.”

You jolted backward as he slammed the metal blade against one of the shelves. The echoing clang of the hit made you curl into yourself, the blood draining from your heart.

His hand raised high, clenched above his head, before it slowly unfurled. He pressed his fingers into his temples. “I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” Punctuating each word with a step closer, he said, “Where. Is. The. Suit?” 

A pulsing vein appeared along his neck, his breathing coming harder. Your hope of getting out of here dwindled with each second he got closer to losing it. 

Trying to keep your voice calm, you said, “Will, I swear I don’t know.”

He charged toward you then, gripping your chin in his hand despite the yelp you let out. “You’ve come to this warehouse before. You’ve been in our house. You stole blueprints. And you think I’m going to believe you?”

You let out a shaky exhale, muscles twitching and screaming at you to get away from him. “I never broke in here. I wouldn’t be able to take all those boxes of the suit by myself, not without being seen. I don’t know where it is.”

His gaze considered you, roaming across your face like he was listing all the ways to torture the information from you. “Then you had help. Maybe that little ‘husband’ of yours knows — he might talk more than you when we find him.” He paused, his hold on you growing a little tighter, making you wince. “And that spider will talk when we string him up and force it out of him.”

Your expression dropped, your eyebrows tightening together. So they didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man, at least not yet. And if you could get out of here alone, it could stay that wa-

A flash of red flew past the windows near the warehouse’s ceiling. Any sense of calm, no matter how forced, dissipated into uncatchable smoke. No, he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t bring himself right into the waiting mouth of the beast that was hunting him. Silently, you pulled at the zip tie holding your wrists. 

“Speaking of cutting through red tape…” Will muttered as a thud on top of the roof had his gaze shooting upward. Silence covered the entire building — all of the workers immediately stopped their movements. 

You could barely slump forward when Will let go of your chin before he brought the blade back to your neck, his body standing behind you. His words echoed as he called out, “Come on out, Spider-Man! I promise we’ll let her go…”

Your eyes squeezed shut as the pain in the back of your head pounded harder, tears threatening to pool on your eyelashes. You whispered, “And then what? Where does this end, Will?” 

A jagged smile was evident in his words. “Who says the fun ever has to end?” His hands forced your head to turn, your gaze pointed toward the warehouse entrance. “Isn’t that right, father?” Will asked loudly, calling to the man walking toward you both with a gun at the ready.

The sight dropped a deadening weight into your stomach. Ellis looked wild, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His usual well-kempt look was forgotten, his suit ragged and hair free from its slicked-back style. More guards continued to enter the warehouse after him, and you couldn’t stop your entire body from shaking.

“Or maybe the fun’s just beginning,” Will said into the curve of your ear. It made you stretch to get away from him, but that only pushed your neck further into the blade — pain prickling along your skin.

You revolted against the dread, the horrific realization, that you may watch Peter die here — while he was trying to save you. It took everything in you to not let it incapacitate your ability to think or even function.

Ellis directed the guards this way and that. You watched with unfocused attention as he followed the large group up toward the roof. Normally, you would say he was sending them to their demise with Spider-Man up there. But an injured, desperate Spider-Man? That struck icy fear into your veins.

And you’d never known Spider-Man to have a noisy approach — careless enough to make noise and draw the enemy’s attention to himself. He’d have to play it smart, which became evident a few minutes later when Will yelled to one of his guards… and got no response. Peter was picking them off one by one in here while they searched for him outside.

Will’s free hand gripped tightly to your shoulder, his body continuously moving in small twitches. You could feel how on edge he was, and you wondered just how dangerous this family could be. Full power over the city, and all they needed now was to remove the one man stopping them.

You fought to keep your breathing even, your mind clear, so you could stay calm. And it worked to ground you just as a web shot from the sky. At blinding speed, it hit Will’s arm, sending the blade flying away from you. It clattered across the floor, the sound the sweetest thing you’d ever heard. Before he could fully realize what had happened, you lifted your foot and brought it down against his knee using every bit of strength you had.

By the time he’d crumpled to the floor, you’d run the other way. His scream froze your heart, but you knew he wouldn’t be down long with whatever experiments were coursing through him. Weaving between shelves with your hands still bound behind you, you tried to find somewhere safe — maybe the back entrance you’d planned to go to before.

But there were sure to be more guards outside now, and you couldn’t get far with your hands tied together. Your steps slowed, trying to become silent as you looked around for something sharp. Among the debris were ammo, rope, chemicals… but nothing to cut the zip tie. 

Will’s words sounded far enough away, but that didn’t stop your head from whipping in his direction as he yelled, “You’ll fucking regret that!” Without so much as a breath, you took small steps backward away from the threat.

You only got a few feet when a gloved hand wrapped around your mouth. Before you could even scream, you were lifted into the air. The warehouse passed in a blur, but relief broke through as you felt summer night air hit your skin — as you recognized the sounds of the man swinging you both a few blocks away.

The two of you landed in a different alley, this one empty and finally safe. A second later, you felt the snap of the zip tie, and your wrists came free.

“Thought you might need a han-”

He only spoke those few words before you turned around to lunge into his arms. A quiet grunt shot out of him as you hugged him until your arms shook. You sniffled back tears budding up, your fingers clenching tight onto his suit. You breathed in him.

“Peter,” you whispered against him.

“Uh… I’m not sure who that is. The name’s Spide-”

“Shut up,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you pressed in closer to him. You could have sobbed when his arms wrapped around you too. To have him here, real, and breathing felt like the aching quiet after waking up from an unending nightmare, like the first rays of morning sunlight peeking above the horizon.

But the memory of when the two of you last spoke washed over your senses in an unrelenting tidal wave. You pulled back, your hold on him tightening as you looked at him. Your breath fizzed away like bubbling remnants of the crashed wave.

Blood splattered across his suit, broken up by dirt and rips along his body. His chest rapidly rose and fell, tired in a way you’d never seen the superhero. He’d pulled his arms from you— one of his hands rested against the building, using it to hold his weight. His other hand wrapped around his left side where blood-coated webs held together what looked to be a bullet wound. But what stole the breath from your lungs, what grabbed you and forced you to come to terms with all that’d happened, was his face. 

A jagged tear in his mask stretched from his cheek to his forehead, leaving one of his bloodshot eyes exposed. The skin around it looked marred with cuts and aching bruises. At the top of the rip, pieces of his shaggy hair stuck to his forehead. He was barely recognizable. Your bottom lip trembled, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. But before you could open your mouth, Peter brought you back in against him, hugging you tight. He whispered, “Thank God you’re okay.”

Pressing your hands against his chest, you created a little bit of space despite how your body protested. “Peter… are you okay?”

His exposed eye traced across your face, the soft brown looking paler than usual. “I’m fine. I got the suit out — and hidden. That’s what matters.”

You gave him an exhausted look because that was not all that mattered, not as he stood there looking like that, but you didn’t argue further. He was here. And stubborn.

So you just allowed yourself to do what you hadn’t done before the fundraiser. Raising your hand, you paused for a brief moment before gingerly fixing his hair. You tucked the strands back under the mask before swiping a thumb across his forehead. 

His hand came up to grab your wrist, lowering it from his hair but not letting go of you.

“How are you doing?” he asked. His fingers were gentle against the marks on your wrist.

You blinked against the throbbing in your head but nodded, breathing out, “Uh… yeah. I’ll be okay.”

And too many other things to say passed your mind, some you wanted to tell him and others you couldn’t. With a hoarse voice and downcast eyes, you settled on, “You came.” 

You hoped he heard all you meant underneath those two words.

And you didn’t have time to register his answer — “of course” — as he moved his grip from your wrist down to your hand. He squeezed once then let it return to your side.

“Okay, I need to head back,” he said, raising his arm to shoot a web back in the direction of the warehouse, “please head to the hospital, and stay safe. I’d bring you there myself, but–” He gestured to his injured side, his face wincing in pain.

Instantly, your face twisted, a dizziness coming over you as any relief you had shattered to the ground. “You’re not going back in there. Not like this,” you nearly pleaded, your words coming out faster. “You’ve done enough. Call- call the police, and let them handle it.”

He shook his head. “I already called them. But with Will’s powers, it’ll be a massacre. I’ve got to go.” He said it with such certainty, with no room for argument. He tried to step past you, his gaze stoically not meeting yours. 

“Then I’m coming too.” You stepped to the side with him. You hurriedly explained, “Something’s not right with Will, like his body is struggling with whatever’s coursing through him. So I think if we-”

“What? No. I mean, yes,” he told you. “Will is using DNA from supervillians, and I think his body’s rejecting it. But no, you’re not coming with me.”

“Could we somehow increase his symptoms then, or speed them up?” Your palms came up to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded rapidly beneath your touch.

“I mean, probably. If we incubated it with heat or lights maybe, but…” He cocked his head. “Stop talking like we’re doing this together. We’re not.”

Turning your chin up at him, you argued, “Well the plan where you get yourself killed sucks.”

“Well I happen to like the plan where you get killed a lot less, so you’re staying,” he said, raising an arm to shoot out a web again. He held stern, but you heard the exhaustion coating his words, how tired he really was. 

Spider-Man always had a plan, Peter always knew what to do. And now it seemed his only plan was to stop Will at all costs — even at the cost of his own life. You shoved away the emotion that thought brought bubbling up your throat.

You clenched your hands into fists, refusing to let him go so easily. “Peter, you’re not leaving me in the dark anymore. The secrets and hiding have to stop here.”

You watched his eyebrow sink into a frown, his voice becoming more serious than you’d ever heard. “Secrets and hiding? Yeah, I have to keep my identity hidden, but don’t you get why I did all of this?” He asked as if it was the most obvious question. His hands gestured out to the side as he took a step back — your own hands falling away from him.

He turned his head away from you, and you could only watch his jaw clench and unclench with each passing second. The silence rang in your ears, until he breathed out, “It was to keep you safe. ‘Cause all this? It does no good if… if you’re gone.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beating wildly throughout you. Heat crawled up your body at his words. Quietly, you asked, “What does me being gone have to do with stopping Beaumont?”

Shaking his head, Peter breathed out the ghost of a laugh. In an instant, he stepped so closely that it nearly gave you whiplash. Slowly, the tips of his fingers slipped under his mask to pull it above his mouth. He shifted even closer, his lips merely an inch from yours as his hands cupped your jaw. His body overtook all of your senses. He whispered, “Christ, are you this dense on purpose?” 

With that, his lips pressed against yours, your eyes fluttering shut on instinct. At first, you didn’t move at all — afraid that it would break whatever moment you somehow found yourself in. Thoughts and emotions yelled for your attention, for you to analyze what was happening, but none were quite as loud as the feeling of his body melding against yours. That familiar warmth of him enveloped you, and all you could do was melt with him.

It wasn’t like the hurried kissing at the fundraiser, all teeth and tongue and newness. This almost felt familiar, as if you could come home to this every day. Your hands snaked up, holding onto his shoulders as he dulled your senses into a fuzziness. You felt your mind nearly go blank — but not completely.

With waning will power, you pulled away, trying not to relish in the soft noise that escaped his throat as you did so. You both caught your breath — the yearning exhales mingling in the small space between you. And with the way his hands still held onto you, now dropped down along your body to find a home on your hips, you knew there was no way he’d let you go with him.

“I… you, uh, need to get back” you began with a long, heavy breath. Swiping your tongue across your bottom lip, you took a resistant step backward. He kept one hand on yours as you moved. “Just, Peter, please be safe.”

He slowly nodded, and you watched every movement as he grabbed his mask and brought it back down. His thumb rubbed along your skin. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. And after…”

“After?” you asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “After. Let me take you out.”

“After,” you promised. You swallowed, wrapping a hand around his forearm and squeezing once. But before he could move away, you said, “Wait! Do you have anything I could use? To defend myself, I mean. I’d just feel safer — in case I happen to run into their guards on my way to the hospital.” You offered a closed mouth smile, one that told him not to worry too much about you.

“Uh, yeah…” he said, patting along his suit and up to his wrists. Removing part of his left webshooter, he set a small metal piece into your palm. You thought it looked almost like a flash drive as he curved your fingers over it.

“It’s not ideal, but it’s the best I have right now. It helps control my electric webs, so you can use this part as a sort of taser if someone comes at you,” he explained, waiting until you nodded before pulling you into a hug. It crushed your body, feeling like a hug you’d give someone you might not see for a long time. Or ever again.

So, you whispered, “Good luck,” and watched as he stepped away and swung away slowly. One of his hands still held tight to his side.

You waited there for a minute, bringing a thumb up to your lips. You felt how they still tingled and how they curved into a smile. But as soon as you were sure Peter had made it back to the warehouse already, you began making your way there with quick steps.

Maybe you were in over your head. Peter would probably call you stupid or reckless. But if he couldn’t handle if something happened to you, then he’d have to understand why you weren’t leaving him to go in there alone.

So you found yourself marching back to the place you never hoped to return to. Intense pounding went through your head with each step. Your palm felt slick with sweat, but you held tight onto the makeshift taser until your knuckles began to ache.

You were glad the warehouse was so secluded — hopefully no passerbyers would get caught in the fray. Or hear the commotion coming from inside. The muffled noise came from the far side of the building, near the front, so you hugged the opposite side of the alley as you made your way to the back. You guessed that they all concentrated on where Peter must have made an appearance, which only left one guard standing at the door.

Eyes flicking to the ground, you caught a glimpse of rock sitting in the cracks of the alleyway. Silently picking it up and pressing yourself into the shadows, you took a steadying breath that did little to calm your nerves in the midst of this insane idea. Still, your shaky arm reeled back to throw the rock up and over the guard, making it land on the other side of him.

As soon as he turned away from you, gun trained on the strange noise, you stepped from the dark and crept toward him. You gave yourself no time to second guess yourself before coming up behind him. Your internal monologue repeated, Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god as you raised the taser.

But as you went to press the taser into the guard, he turned back around in shock — throwing his elbow into your cheek in the process. A silent groan sat in your throat as your mouth hung open, a loud ringing going through your head. Pain bloomed outward from your face, and it took a moment to push past your swimming vision. Using all your strength, you lunged at him again and shoved the taser into the flesh of his neck.

In an instant, his body began convulsing. You did your best to try and let his weight down gently, but he just slid to the ground alongside you, unconscious and still twitching. Pushing him off, you sat on your knees and tried to catch your breath. You let the pain slowly dull with each passing second.

As you sat there, a glimpse of white against his dark uniform caught your eye — an ID badge hanging off his hip. It worked perfectly against the card reader at the back door, unlocking with a soft click for you to slip through. And there you were again, stood in the mouth of the beast once again.

In the back hallway away from the open floor, you could hear crashing and yelling coming from across the building. You only made it a few feet before footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway. Deep voices echoed off the concrete walls, each word louder than the next. You didn’t move or breathe until eventually, finally, they began to grow quieter.

From where you stood, heart still in your throat, you could tell the warehouse lights were still dimmed. So you searched along the walls, ears always listening for anyone coming back. You opened up the door after finding a circuit breaker, tracing a finger down the length of it. None of the switches were labeled, so after a moment of consideration, you flipped them all on — washing the building in bright fluorescents.

And just a few feet down the hall sat the thermostat. It was set to 65 degrees, but your hand quickly turned the dial up to the 89 degree mark. Within a few seconds, you heard the heater turn on and rumble through the vents. 

You nodded, hopeful that this could begin weakening Will enough for Peter to take him out. While bleeding and injured. While dozens of guards also tried to kill him. How could you let him come back here? How could he come back here and make you come back here to help his ass?

You began to turn around to go find him when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.

“Freeze-”

A gasp caught in your throat as you whipped around out of instinct and fear, immediately shoving the makeshift taser at the woman. It connected with the bottom of her jaw. With wide eyes, you watched as her body shook and fell to the ground just like the other guard. Your hand came up to cover your mouth while you stared. You didn’t think you would ever get used to that.

Slowly, you backed away down the hall. You did manage to grab her gun and hide it on a shelf when you made your way out there — rather than take it and risk shooting yourself or Peter, even if he did have superpowers.

Superpowers that you almost began to resent as you stepped into the open area of the warehouse — and the man himself immediately dropped down in front of you. You placed your hand over your mouth and swallowed the yelp that threatened to escape. Instead, you watched Peter as he guided the both of you behind a shelf. 

His chest rose and fell much too quickly, his stance wavering and unsteady. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to affect his attitude though, as he came closer and angrily whispered, “What the hell are you doing here? I can’t believe you did this.”

You gave him a soft, disbelieving look, a closed-lipped smile on your face. “Yes, you can.”

He brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. A long sigh left his mouth. “Alright,” he said, “I can believe it. But you need to leave now.” He tried weakly pushing you toward the back door again.

You didn’t budge. “Oh, okay. Yeah, now that I’ve snuck in to help — by electrocuting two guards into unconsciousness, by the way — I’ll just go on my merry way,” you whispered back, twisting your face into a mocking expression. “How about you shut up and just let me help?”

“That’s why you asked for the weapon?” He quietly groaned before looking at you again, his head cocking. “Two guards? That’s not bad.”

“Thank you. Now, I’ve turned up the heat and lights. So let’s go.”

For a moment, he considered you. His eye covered by the mask looked expressionless, distant. But his exposed eye made you pause — his gaze feeling resigned, desperate in a way that made your heart twist. You didn’t want to imagine the other compromises or sacrifices Spider-Man has had to make over the years. And you didn’t have time to. So you swallowed those thoughts and simply grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his to pull him farther into the warehouse.

As you slowly moved down the aisles, you whispered, “Give me one of your web shooters.”

You already knew his answer from the blank stare he shot sideways at you. “I’m not giving you one of my web shooters. I need them.” Part of his words told you he really did need them to get you both through this. The other part said he didn’t trust you to not accidentally shoot him with his own webs.

“Well don’t you have an extra one or something?” you shot back.

“Do you see this suit? Where could I even keep an extra web shooter on me?” he quietly asked, his free hand raising outstretched and exasperated.

You let your eyes trail across the suit per his suggestion — until Peter said, “Okay, that’s enough ogling.” And even for the briefest of moments, it felt good to smile with him. 

But at another crash several aisles down, he stiffened. You felt his rapid heartbeat pulse against your skin as he held up a hand. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

You tried to squeeze his hand, to give him some sort of mention to be careful or to not get himself killed out there, but his fingers slipped through yours as he instantly swung away. Your palm radiated leftover warmth as you hid, thinking through the plan. Hopefully, the two of you wouldn’t have to wait long for Will to show symptoms, which would just leave many guards and Ellis. Peter seemed confident that they couldn’t fight their way out of this.

But under the commotion of guards around the warehouse, yelling and fighting coming from seemingly everywhere, you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps until they were too close. Whipping around, you saw Ellis appear at the end of the aisle, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He raised his gun, aiming it right at you as he said, “Found you now.” His voice sounded colder, void of any of the charm he had when speaking to the public.

Instinctively, you backed away from him — from the man that made cold dread creep through your body and steal the breath from your lungs — but your steps stuttered when a web came from the ceiling and yanked the gun from Ellis’ grip. It flew upward, but you didn’t wait to see Ellis’ reaction before silently thanking Peter and sprinting the other way.

Only to be met with Will standing on the other side of the long aisle. 

His twisted smile and disheveled hair falling into his face fueled the icy weight dropping into your gut. His bloody fingers tightened around the end of the blade he held in one hand. The other gripped a pistol.

You turned to look back at Ellis to see him fighting against more webs. As Will approached with heavy steps, his arm shaking as he aimed his gun at you, you forced your body to move.

Without thinking, you ducked and crawled past boxes sitting on the large shelf and emerged into the next aisle. You couldn’t think about the thudding sounds of bullets hitting metal around you.

You knew he’d be on you soon, his mutated powers making him too powerful. So you crawled across to the next aisle, pushing aside scattered equipment before throwing yourself through that shelf too. You went through a few more aisles and shelves to create at least a little distance. In the last shelf you passed, you hid yourself between the boxes. You stilled just a second before you heard him enter the aisle.

Clamping a hand over your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut as his footsteps grew louder with each passing second. Your other hand began to ache from gripping the taser between your fingers.

“Run all you like. It won’t change how this all ends,” Will seethed, his voice becoming closer to you. A raggedness filled his words, and you hoped that meant the plan was working.

Still, Peter’s name repeated over and over in your mind, a silent prayer for him to come help. But you could hear more guards approaching, each one feeling like an extra shovel digging your graves.

The guards seemed to be coming to find the commotion, but from the sounds, it seemed like Peter was holding them off. You could only imagine the exhaustion and pain riddling his body as he never stopped fighting.

And you hoped he wouldn’t stop as a shaking, powerful hand wrapped itself around your arm and yanked you from the shelf. No sound could escape your mouth — every inch of it went dry in the face of Will’s bloodshot eyes. 

One hand reached to claw at his grip while the other brought the taser up to his neck. But he knocked it away before sending you flying from the aisles into the open space. You heard a growl rip from his throat before it disappeared under the ringing in your ears, a breathless groan dribbling from your agape lips, as you fell against the concrete.

In between slow blinking and painful winces, you caught sight of Peter coming down and fighting against Will. Even with the sweat starting to bead along your skin, the extra heat and lights weren’t enough yet to weaken him. You saw how fast his punches were, how slow Peter was to dodge them.

Your arms trembled as you pushed yourself onto one elbow. Gritting your teeth, you ignored the ache throbbing behind your eyes. You began to stand up again only for a blow to knock you back down and sliding across the floor.

“God, I’ve just had fucking enough of you. Stay down for once, sweetheart. Okay?”

Past watery vision, you raised your head to see a bloody Ellis pointing a gun down at you. You held your breath, not daring to move as nausea and fear turned to sludge in your stomach. His knuckles look torn and raw, his suit ripped along his shoulders and arms. One hand of his ran through his hair, leaving a smear of blood along his hairline.

Just as you were to silently call for Peter again or to close your eyes and wait for this all to be over, a strangled groan echoed throughout the warehouse. A second later, Peter’s ragged body flew from the shelves and hit the ground, sliding until he slammed into the building’s wall. A cry escaped your mouth at seeing his limp form, and you only breathed again once you saw him beneath the debris and dust. Blood dribbled from his shoulder. More rips spread along his suit. But weakly, slowly, you could see his chest continue to rise and fall.

Before you could try to crawl over to him, Will emerged from the aisles — his smile victorious even as his muscles shook. From where you lay, you couldn’t see any more guards. Peter must have gotten them all. Now you just needed a little more time.

“His current state is going to make it harder to get answers out of him, William,” Ellis said. He stretched his neck side to side as he continued to train his gun directly at your heart.

Will let out a breathy laugh as he made his way closer. “I was just having some fun testing out my powers.” He flexed his hands in front of him, his heartbeat visible in the raised veins just beneath his skin. “Besides, I’m sure there are ways to get him to talk…”  

His gaze rose to connect with yours.

He dropped the end of his blade to the ground, letting it drag against the concrete with each step. The slicing sound may as well have been the blade itself running along your throat.

You began to shuffle backward, needing to get as far away from him and his torture plan as possible. Your teeth dug so far into your cheek that you began to taste blood. Fresh tears pooled along your eyes as you called out, “When were you going to tell him, Ellis?”

Still several feet away, Will paused for a moment, the blade hanging looser from his grasp. His eyes flicked to his father’s.

Ellis' shout echoed across the building, making you flinch. “What are you doing? Grab her. We need to leave.”

You didn’t let either of them think before blurting out, “When were you going to tell your son that his body’s rejecting the DNA? That they’re going to kill him?”

Ellis nearly growled out his next words as he stalked closer. “Shut. Up. You don’t know anything, you worthless girl.”

You scrambled back farther, your hands searching for anything along the ground. Your fingers grasped a broken shard of glass, bringing it in front of your body. It looked so miniscule, so useless, trembling before him.

“Is that true?”

Will’s words broke through, and for a brief moment, you recognized him again — he was the man you danced with. Only this time, he looked empty.

The question made Ellis stop this time, his eyes squeezing shut for a second.

“Father?”

You saw how Will’s skin looked red and blotchy, how his breathing became harder with each passing second. He knew something was wrong.

“Tell him, Ellis. Tell him why he’s becoming weaker by the minute.” You tried to keep your voice steady, and though it wavered and scratched, it still struck the tense thread holding them together.

For too long, no one spoke. You fought to not look away from Ellis’ stare that pierced through you. Every breath, every tiny move he made, you watched him from behind the broken glass.

Will pleaded, shouting,“Dad!”

Finally, Ellis broke from the trance and dropped the gun just slightly, turning toward Will. You took the brief moment to glance to Peter. In… out. In… out. He was here. He was okay. He would be okay.

You turned back when Ellis let out a resigned sigh, refusing to fully meet his son’s gaze. “We are working on a cure… a treatment to stabilize your body’s reactions. There was no use in worrying you before we found it.”

“Except that tiring his body worsens it — it kills him faster,” you gritted past split lips, despite flinching when Ellis aimed the gun at you again.

“Shut the hell up!” he yelled, gripping the gun’s handle until his knuckles turned white. You raised your chin higher.

“Is she right?” Will asked.

“I…” Ellis began, groaning and dropping the gun to his side. He reached his other hand toward Will, turning toward him completely. “It’s…” And for once, you heard Ellis Beaumont have nothing to say — no lies to spew. Still, he approached Will, trying to embrace him.

But Will backed away, his tripping over one another. “You did this to me,” he whispered, almost in awe. Then, his voice rose with each word until he was shouting. “You used me as some lap dog and knew that it was destroying me from the inside out?”

Ellis approached again. “Son–”

“No! Get the hell off me,” Will screamed, pressing his hands into his father’s chest and shoving with all his strength.

Ellis stumbled, and you relished in the way his mouth opened and shut without saying anything. 

“No. Don’t say another goddamn thing. No more telling me what to do like I’m a child,” he paused, his jaw clenching. His irises seemed to glow a sickly green, his voice becoming deep and alien. “Like I’m just some tool to get you your money.”

What lit the awaiting wick, though, was Ellis — in all his confidence and cowardice for his own safety — raised his gun at his son. You swore you saw the instant Will lost all semblance of control.

His body surged forward, tackling his father to the ground. Ellis yelled out, but it cut short when he hit the concrete. Any noise he made disappeared under the sound of Will’s fist hitting his dad. An animalistic growl rang out, and for a moment, you sat entranced, watching the pain pass across both of their faces as they battled. 

You stared at the tears flying from Will’s eyes until your arm could no longer hold up the shard of glass. Its sharp edges pressed into your skin, but as they continued fighting, you dropped it to crawl toward Peter’s body.

Your eyes stayed on the two men while you passed over debris and the occasional webbed-up guard. You pushed away the wreckage despite the aching fire licking across every part of your body. Glimpses of red peaked through as you uncovered Peter. Immediately, you felt his chest for a pulse, for his ragged-but-stable breaths. A gasp escaped your mouth as you felt it dimly beating. You then moved to put pressure on the bullet wound on his side. 

The pained groan he let out choked your heart. On the tip of your tongue, his name stood begging to leap off the edge and surround his body until he was okay again.

Instead, with darting eyes and trembling lips, you whispered, “Spidey.”

When he didn’t respond, you took hold of his arms and shook him slightly. Tears dripped down your cheeks, your voice becoming more desperate. “C’mon. We have to go. You have to get out of here.” You pushed his exposed hair back under his mask again. He barely stirred.

“Please,” you cried out, pulling on him, prepared to try and drag him out of there. “You can’t ditch me, asshole. I’m not doing this alone.”

Beneath the yelling of Ellis’ pleading and Will’s incessant punches, you heard Peter murmur something. You didn’t dare breathe, only whispering for him to repeat.

“You’re… an… asshole,” Peter grumbled, his face twisting as he opened his eyes. His head lolled to the side, a dry swallow passing down his throat. If he wasn’t in so much pain, you might’ve thought about hitting him for that. Instead, a splitting smile overtook your face.

But you didn’t have time to stop when Peter’s hands tensed around you. He moved just slightly to look toward the Beaumonts, prompting you to whip your head in their direction again.

You looked just in time to see Will wavering above Ellis, his eyes blinking slower and slower. A second later, he slumped forward and off of Ellis’ body onto the ground. Will appeared to be breathing still, but he was weak. 

Any momentary relief you felt vanished as Ellis sat up, that wild look back on his face. Your hold on Peter tightened, your body thrown back into desperate fear. Ellis reached a few feet out to grab the blade Will had before training his eyes on you — like a predator locked onto its prey.

“You little-”

Grabbing Peter’s nearly limp arm, you repeatedly pressed down on his web shooter’s trigger before Ellis could finish his sentence. Webs flew out and encompassed the man, wrapping him and sticking him to the floor.

“Thank you,” Peter muttered. “He was giving me a headache.”

You were sure it was the multiple head injuries doing that, but you appreciated the humor while your heart rate returned to normal.

“C’mon. We’re leaving,” you urged him. With all of your strength, you did your best to support Peter’s weight as he slowly stood and staggered onto you. You could hear the groans he continued to bite back.

You held onto him tight, keeping him balanced. “Okay, do you have your phone on you?”

“Yeah…”

You waited for him to fish it out from a slim pocket. Using your free hand, you took several pictures of the Beaamonts lying there and the ruined warehouse. Your investigative heart wanted to take a hundred images from every angle, but your rational mind told you to leave. It took all your effort to move on. Trying to ignore the dizziness in the corners of your vision, you wrapped an arm around Peter’s side and walked to the back of the warehouse.

You both passed through the back door, out over the threshold of that place — finally out into the night for good. He’d be okay.

Along the warehouse’s high windows, flashes of police lights reflected down onto Peter’s face. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm to the skyline, staring into your eyes. “Ready, sunshine?”

You let yourself be pulled in closer to his side, blinking away the stinging tears.

And from this angle, with cascading cherry and violet lights raining down onto Peter’s profile, you found that you didn’t mind red and blue so much anymore.

Nodding, you slowly drew your eyes to his. “Ready.”

—

Your words spilled through gritted teeth, your jaw clenched tight. “I hate you so much, Peter.” 

Your palms were sweaty as you forced yourself to stay focused despite that rage building in your chest. It continued up your body, crawling along your throat.

“Really? After all I’ve done for you?” Peter asked, his tone incredulous. You could feel the waves of heat rolling off of him.

Your expression sinking into a frown, you muttered, “It’s only fitting, considering that you lie and hide secrets.”

“Oh come on…” He scoffed, holding up a hand. “That’s low. And if you think about it, it was really only one secret!”

“That you lied about multiple times!”

He sat back next to you against the couch cushions, the weight of him drawing you closer. “You’re just a sore loser, and you’re angry that I whooped your ass in Mario Kart. Again,” he said, and you finally turned your gaze from the screen to look at him.

Light streamed in through his apartment’s window, the afternoon sun dancing across his face. His eyes turned to a soft caramel under its attention. His hair was undone, feathering along his forehead. Slowly, he grew closer, raising one eyebrow as if daring you to tell him he’s wrong.

Crossing your arms, determined not to be affected by his stare, you told him, “I literally beat you in the last game.”

He rolled his eyes. “Cause you cheated!”

“Look who’s the sore loser now,” you laughed out, your mouth turning into a gentle smile.

The two of you were face to face on the couch, breaths mixing together. A moment of silence passed, Peter’s softening eyes roaming across you. His thumb reached over to brush along the outside of your thigh. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

You didn’t try to fight your wide grin or the heat rising to your cheeks. In a whisper, you asked, “You think I’m adorable?”

His only answer was a slight huff as he leaned forward, kissing you. It only lasted a moment, your lips chasing his when he pulled away. “I’m gonna grab a drink, don’t sabotage my controller while I’m gone,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want anything?”

“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” you said, laughing when he rolled his eyes.

Slowly, he rose from the couch, taking heavy breaths as he winced. His healing injuries — mental and physical — were better, but they weren’t gone altogether. Neither were yours. 

They probably wouldn’t be for a while. Though, after waking up panicked and breathless from repeated nightmares, it helped having someone there to bring you back down. It helped having someone take care of yourself when that seemed impossible. And it helped knowing you weren’t alone in this.

You watched him make his way to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge. In these past days since the warehouse incident, it sometimes scared you how easy this was. Staying at his apartment together, helping one another recover. Your things sat scattered around his place, like they belonged. You wondered when he was going to say something, to ask you to go back home and tend to your wounds alone. When you both healed, would it all go back to how it was?

When a notification sound came from Peter’s phone, your eyes drew down to it for a second. Not knowing whether it was urgent Spider-Man business — not that he should’ve been doing it given his state — you called out, “Your phone dinged!”

Head still in the fridge, his words muffled, Peter called back, “Can you check it for me?”

You paused for a moment, letting a feeling of warmth settle in your chest before grabbing his phone. Just from the notification preview, you could tell what it was.

“Add another tally to your offers to interview for a job,” you told him, shaking your head — a smile evident in your voice. “This one’s for a junior photographer position.”

“What does that bring us up to now?” he asked, closing the refrigerator. He brought a glass of water and what you assumed was Dr. Pepper that’d gone flat.

“I think we’re tied at three each — though they’re just asking us to apply and interview.” You let out a sigh, trying not to get your hopes up. “It’s no guarantee of a job. They’re just interested in our story.”

Peter pointed a finger at you from around the glass. “Our story that kicks ass and put the corrupt city manager and his son away. That’s a piece that belongs on something bigger than The Daily Bugle.”

“You really think so?”

You looked up at him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Sunshine, the greatest compliment Jameson could spit out was that it’s a ‘mighty fine’ story — before obviously yelling at us for not getting more pictures of Spider-Man during it… and that our injuries were no excuse, of course,” he told you with a wry sarcasm as he set the glasses down on the coffee table. Sitting next to you, his expression softened. His hand wrapped around yours. “But now you have the chance at something bigger.”

You grinned back at him. “But how could I ever pass up a job with… how’d he say it? ‘Minimal benefits and guaranteed maximum overtime’?”

Peter’s laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating a comforting rhythm against you. Next to you, your phone buzzed this time. Picking it up, you told him, “Oh, another one! It’s 4 to 3 now — I’m in the lead.”

His grin made yours even wider, and you were unable to fight it as his hands cupped your jaw, his fingers careful to avoid the bruises along your cheekbone. “You see? You’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand.” His eyes pulled you in, begging you to fall into him completely as he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You could’ve stayed there forever, sitting on that ripped couch in Peter’s apartment that you swore to never return to. Your fingers twisted in the ends of his hair pulling him even closer. The rest of the world melted away for at least a little while, leaving just the two of you in this bubble. When you eventually pulled away, your foreheads rested against one another, your nose nudging against his.

“Oh!” you said, leaning back, “I almost forgot. I picked up a frame while out grocery shopping — I couldn’t help myself.” You stood up, grabbing a bag from the dining table and pulling out a cheap picture frame. The story you’d already cut out from the newspaper felt smooth between your fingers as you carefully placed it in the frame.

You kept it close to your body while looking around for a good spot to hang it up, not that the walls had much — or anything — really on them. Deciding on a nice place between the door and living room, you asked, “Want to do the honors?”

Fishing out a nail from his tool drawer, which was really just a kitchen drawer full of scattered household items, you held it out to Peter along with the frame. It took some willpower to not gasp as he merely pushed the nail into the wall without a hammer and hung up the frame.

Straightening it just right, he stepped back and wrapped his arm around your back. You took it in, the first real decoration in his apartment — the story that brought the two of you together framed against the pale walls. Your names shone clearly at the top, next to the large letters spelling out, “Fundraiser or Fraud? The Beaumont Empire Falls.”

Leaning into him, your palm rubbing circles on his lower back, you asked, “Do you like it?”

His voice came out soft, the words curling around the ends of your body. “It’s perfect.”

It wasn’t, not with the ill-fitting frame or the story that likely needed further digging and refining. But right now, with Peter, it was perfect. You let your mind run through everything you two had gone through together, how you’d ended up here.

After a minute of thinking, though, something kept drawing your attention. Pursing your lips, you turned back to him. “Hey Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“I just have a quick question. When we were trying to get into the fundraiser, you said you ‘knew a guy.’ Did you just mean yourse-”

“Myself? Yeah. I’m the guy,” he told you, nodding repeatedly. Nonchalantly.

You scoffed, slightly laughing. You really were insane to have gone in on this project with him. “And then you made fake IDs and gave me some fake wedding ring so we could sneak in…” you said in disbelief.

Turning to grab his drink from the table, he furrowed his eyebrows. “The ring you borrowed? ‘S not fake — do you still have that, by the way?” he asked, taking a sip. “Need to return that.”

You took a beat staring at him wordlessly. Your mind crossed several things to say that you decided to hold back. “Peter, what do you mean it’s not fake? That giant rock on my finger was real?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it as a favor from a jewelry store. I saved the place from robbers breaking in.” He shrugged, the flannel his wore swaying around his body.

This relationship was going to take years off of you… 

Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to kill you,” you half-heartedly murmured. Your eyes raised to meet his, your finger pointing at him. “You know, you’re so careless about all this. I fucking knew you were Spider-Man for so long.”

“Oh, bullshit,” he laughed out, walking closer to you. “Now you didn’t. And as long as we’re being honest, I was going to give you the Daily Bugle job offer at the end of the internship the whole time. So really… you didn’t have to do any of this.” His face morphed into a teasing cockiness that sparked a fire in your chest.

The two of you stared at one another, eyes alight but mouths fighting back smiles. All at once, a calm washed over you. “Are we done bickering?”

Peter rested his hands on your hips. He nodded softly, sweetly, as if nothing but you filled his mind. “Yeah, we’re done.”

You leaned forward, kissing him once before whispering against his lips, “Great, now grab the controller — ‘m gonna kick your ass in Mario Kart again.”

@dil3mma @hollandweather @reidslovely @a-lumos-in-the-nox @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @agent-tempest @olivezgalore @qwintlimon7 @eddieslooneymoonie @aheadfullofsteverogers @bitchy-bi-trash

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

GET YOUR BODY OUT OF SURVIVAL MODE SO YOU CAN CREATE FROM YOUR HEART

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

the bullet train 2 that exists in my head

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

raise a glass to the posts you love that end up deleted. to the fanart and fanfics you lose track of and can't locate. to the blogs you used to look through that ended up unexpectedly disappearing. to the things you didn't archive because you always assumed they'd be there.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

remember when captain america said he wasn't dating because "it's kinda hard to find someone with shared life experience" and then later in the movie they revived his best friend and silly rabbit and right hand man and the only person that could hope to understand his specific set of circumstances and then they walked the earth together as two men out of time soul-tied by fate and loyalty and blistering unwavering devotion. and that wasnt meant to mean anything

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

booped out

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

I've been playing with this idea of meeting Carmy at a party, and neither of you really want to be there. So you get out of there. Let me know if anyone would like to see a full fic of this.

Not super proofread. Lots of swearing. Thank you for reading <3

p.s. apologies for dunking on Richie in this, I love him

Pity Party

Carmy Berzatto x reader

* * *

Fuck Richie, and fuck this party.

The words circled through your head again and again, tumbling and hitting the inside of your skull to the beat of the music blasting from the living room. You fought against the pounding headache that began to grow from it.

The drunken nights and stagnant air of parties like these had never been your favorite. Not as you now held your shirt away from your skin so the spilled beer dripping all down your front didn’t stick to you. Some drunk asshole was waving his cup around while he told a gross story about a woman he’d hooked up with — most of the contents landed on you during a particularly lewd gesture. As you walked to the house’s bathroom, you pitied whoever she was.

You avoided these kinds of parties for this reason, among others. Your cup only had water in it for Christ’s sake. But Richie practically begged you to come, even though he was the only person you knew. And he was your ride home. You didn’t even know whose house you were at. You hadn’t seen him since you’d arrived.

As you turned the corner, your shoes sticking along the floor with each step, you nearly ran into a woman standing against the wall. You quietly apologized before noticing she stood in line behind several other people.

“Is this for the bathroom?” you asked, not bothering to hide the tiredness from your voice.

“Yep,” the woman answered, popping the ‘p’ of the word. “Only one there is, too.”

Biting back a sharp groan, your jaw clenched tight, you gave her a nod and turned back down the hallway. Fuck Richie indeed.

Shoulders bumped against your body as you pushed your way through to the kitchen. Goosebumps rose along your skin where you couldn’t keep your shirt from touching, yet in this rising heat of the many bodies here, you knew the dampness would turn swampy quickly.

You’d dry the beer and then ask Richie to take you back — which he wouldn’t. Maybe you’d try ordering a ride or begging a friend to come get you.

Finally in the kitchen, you saw a tipped-over roll of paper towels in the corner. Partially lying in a puddle of what you assumed was more spilled beer, the paper towels still looked like they came from the goddamn heavens. Grabbing them, you shuffled your way between people toward the sink. 

Just as you nearly made it to the sink, your steps stuttered to a stop. You swallowed down a groan at someone leaning on the counter in front of it. The man there had a head of curly hair standing out against the dark blue sweater he wore.

The second you came close, his eyes caught yours. They widened as he muttered out a quick, “Shit, sorry.” He raised his tattooed hands as he moved to the side, his fingers gripping a can of Pepsi.

Giving him a tight but appreciative smile, you began drying your shirt over the sink. The paper towels grew dark as they soaked up some of the liquid. But no matter how much you blotted, it still felt gross against you.

“Here, uh, let me find some soap or somethin’,” the man to your side said. He reached a hand toward the cupboard under the sink. Hesitantly, you stepped out of his way and let him root around in there. Your fingers picked at the seam of your pants until he stood back up a few seconds later — with a nearly empty bottle of dish soap in hand.

He’d barely set it down before searching in another cupboard, leaving you to absentmindedly continue dabbing at the stain. This time, you let your gaze look at the tattoos trailing up his forearms and disappearing beneath his sweater. But you shifted your eyes away as he looked at you, while grabbing out a bowl and filling it with water.

“If you get some warm, soapy water on it right away,” he said, squirting some of the dish soap into the water, using his finger to mix it together, “it’ll help keep the stain from setting.”

With a slight frown still dotting your expression, you ripped off another section of the paper towels. Dipping them into the bowl he held out, you told him, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, ‘f course,” he said, nodding quickly, setting the bowl down. “You can try and get some vinegar and water on it when you get home. Or rubbing alcohol if you have it.”

You glanced at him for a second. God, were his eyes blue. “You spill beer on yourself often?”

The ghost of a laugh pulled from his mouth. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning back against the counter again. “No, uh, not really. But I’ve had plenty of food on me in my time.”

You let out a confused laugh, but before you asked further, you noticed how the beer slowly diluted from the fabric. The constant smell of beer finally grew fainter. “You’re a goddamn lifesaver. Thank you,” you told him, shaking your head. “I wasn’t sure how I’d survive getting home smelling like a bar.”

He actually grinned that time, and you decided that he had a nice smile. Grabbing his Pepsi again, he took a sip before saying, “Jus’ let me know if you need anything else.”

A laughing scoff escaped your mouth as soon as he said that. You lifted your shirt away from your body to discreetly wipe off the sticky residue along your skin, your teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek for a moment. “You could tell Richie to shove it for me.”

His smile slowly dropped, his eyes connecting with yours. “Christ…what’d he do this time?”

The anguish in his voice brought a smile to your mouth, something you hadn’t had since you got here. “So you know him?”

As you grabbed more paper towels to now dry everything, you watched him run his hand through his curly hair and then over his mouth. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, probably too well.”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah, well Richie invited me here. Normally, I’d say no — but god he’s persistent-”

“God. Yeah, he is.”

“Right? So I give in and, y’know, give him the benefit of the doubt and all,” you said as the man nodded along. “But he went off somewhere almost instantly to catch up with this ‘friend of a friend’s brother’ or whatever — without a word, of course.”

A breathy laugh left his mouth. “Of course.”

You let out a sharp breath. “I know this isn’t all Richie’s fault, but I’m blaming him just a little for getting covered in cheap beer,” you muttered, beginning to ramble. “The worst part really is that he said there’d be food here, but there’s only a few stale chips and watery salsa. I mean, who lies about snacks?”

“Criminal,” he said almost under his breath.

“Yeah, I’d say this is the last time I let him talk me into one of these, but there’s only so many ways to hide from your next-door neighbor in an apartment building.” You shook your head as you remembered him inviting you to this one — your fingers on the handle of your apartment door waiting to get in after a long day at work. Truthfully, you enjoyed your conversations with Richie and appreciated the excuse to get out of your place.

“Oh shit, you’re Richie’s neighbor?” the man questioned, his arms crossed back across his chest. Your eyes traced the veins along the back of his hands as a slight twist went through your stomach at his words.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked, “Is that a bad thing?” You hadn’t thought there was much worth of note from your experiences with Richie or his daughter.

“No. Well, a little. He wouldn’t fucking shut up about this neighbor who smelled his spaghetti and knocked on his door asking for the recipe. I got the dish cut from the restaurant, but he used that story again and again to try and convince me to keep it,” he explained, a hint of red beginning to peak along his neck.

As someone passed between you two to grab the paper towels, you winced, ready to apologize for the spaghetti drama you caused when a question passed through your thoughts. “You work at The Beef?” 

He nodded as you remembered the rant Richie went on when you’d asked for the spaghetti recipe, which you’d only done because you were starving and hoping he’d give you a little — which he did. Slowly, you tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the man. “Wait… Do you run The Beef?”

His gaze dropped for a second, his mouth flattening into a straight line.  “Uh, yeah. Trying to, at least.”

“Wow,” you breathed out, giving a small smile, “you’re Carmy. Can’t say I’m envious of your job — it’s sometimes all Richie talks about. Or you. He talks about you a lot,” you told him, angling your chin upward. You could now pick out the tiredness etched into the lines of his face.

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows raised, a grin growing across his face. 

“Oh yeah. I thought you’d be a lot more annoying from all the stories I’ve heard,” you said, dropping the used paper towels into a nearby trash can. And you couldn’t fight the hint of warmth in your body at seeing him laugh harder at that. With what you’d heard of the restaurant’s struggles, you briefly wondered if Carmy hadn’t done a lot of that lately. But finding out didn’t sound terrible.

Just as the conversation lulled, your stomach decided to announce its displeasure with the lack of food at the party. “Wouldn’t mind some of that spaghetti now actually,” you grumbled with a short laugh.

“You hungry?”

The question almost didn’t register as you looked down at your shirt. Your hands slowed their incessant smoothing long enough to consider his question. You glanced at him quickly.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I didn’t really get time for dinner before coming here… ” you uttered beneath his expectant stare, unsure of where to go from there. “Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” he laughed, shaking his head as if that wasn’t the point. “But if you need a place to eat, I know this taqueria not far from here. It’s open late, and their tacos are fire,” he offered, running a hand through his hair again.

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled at him, already thinking of the food that you wouldn’t get to eat. You waved him off. “But Richie’s my ride, and I don’t think he’s going to leave anytime soon. Plus, I should get home before going out again. Don’t think anyone would appreciate smelling a brewery the whole time.” You let out a breathy, almost nervous laugh.

His fingers played with the tab on the Pepsi can, twisting it this way and that. “Wan’ a ride? We could pick up the food and drop you off at home.”

Your eyes dragged inch by inch from your shirt to his. A warmth swam in them, not like the stifling heat of this house, but the kind that warmed the last minutes of a summer evening. It almost drowned out the music and chatter that’d begun to drift out of your awareness.

“Don’t you want to stay at the party?” you asked, your expression settling toward a frown. 

A hair curl slipped onto his forehead as he shook his head. “I also came for Richie. And both are shitty. I don’t mind ditching for good food.”

You pursed your lips and, with your stomach already grumbling, found that the decision was not a difficult one to make. 

So, you followed Carmy between the waves of people and across the sticky floors, not taking your eyes off the patches of color on the jacket he’d put on. The first deep breath in hours filled your lungs in the night air. Your exhale curled out in white wisps beneath the clouds and above the thawing ground of spring. The sauntering breezes felt chilling against your damp shirt and made you hurry after Carmy to his car.

His van doors creaked as you climbed in. Your hands pressed between your thighs to build a little heat as the engine revved awake. But in the pulsing silence away from the party, you felt much smaller here.

As he pulled onto the road, you said, “Thank you for driving me, by the way.”

You turned to catch his firm nod beneath the passing streetlights, each one illuminating the moles and lines of his skin. The radio buzzed quietly beneath the bump and dips of the van’s wheels along the cracked roads.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

cooking themed dividers requested by @judgementdaysunshine

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Thinkin about how sweet Eddie would be in the morning waiting for you to wake up. Laying in bed with you while you softly snore just gently tracing his fingers along the features of your face, bringing his lips to ever so gently press little kisses into your skin. First the tip of your nose, your cheeks, forehead, jaw, and finally your lips. Depending on if you have to be awake for any reason he may wake you, but if theres no reason to wake you he wouldn’t dare. His baby needs their beauty sleep :((

If he does need to wake you up he does it so so sweetly, continuing to kiss your cute little face and run his rough hands on you and gently shaking you. He whispers a little to you about needing to wake up first and starts getting louder little by little, but nothing over low talking. He melts if you do wake up and ask for just a few more minutes, checks the time, and hold you to his chest and lets you have just a couple more minutes of peace. How is he meant to resist when your little sleepy voice is just too cute.

If there is no reason for you to be awake on the other hand he just lays or sits with you taking you, in all of your sleeping glory, in. He might decide to get up and fix you both some coffee or maybe make some breakfast, nothing too fancy, likely a bowl of cereal. If it starts getting a little late he is likely to encourage you to wake up, maybe opening curtains or turning a lamp on. Nothing to startle you awake but something to let you wake up on your own.

“There’s my baby,” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you stir awake, mumbling something about the time. “Awh honey, sleepy?” You look up at him and nod pouting ever so slightly. “mhn.. few more minutes.. please..” Your voice is barely audible but Eddie hears you loud and clear. “Yea baby,” He pulls you close to him so your head can rest on his chest, “Just a few more minutes ok?” You nod your head as you snuggle into him. He kisses the top of your head and shuts his own eyes. It was not in fact “A few more minutes” as you both wake up nearly an hour later. But it was totally worth it.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

I’m never getting out of my Raymond Smith phase. Thank you for feeding it 👌

Let There Be Hotel Complaints

Based on a post request by @rayslittlekitten I really hope you like it, I have no idea if it fits but I tried hard.

Title based on: Hozier - Dinner & Diatribes

Contains: Fluff, Ray being Gomez Addams, mentions of periods/period symptoms, smut (fingering, oral sex M and F receiving, P in V, breeding kink, possessive Ray, scents and smells, aftercare) Not beta read.

3.5K words.

Ray's feelings for you are as wide as the ocean, and his love is second only to his desire.

The hand that wrapped around your body felt like hot coals on your already heated skin, and you fought the urge to shrink away from Ray. "Raymond, I've been put in the garden working, can you let me shower before you hug me?" His arms only tightened around as you felt his chest expand against your back as he pressed his nose into your sweat-damped neck. "Ray! I'm covered in sweat."

He checked, and the sound reverberated through your body like the first rumbles of a thunderstorm. "I don't mind, Dear, you smell wonderful." His face moved to the top of your head as he took another breath, admiring how your conditioner mixed with a hard day's work. It drifted into his mind like the reaching of a siren song, slowly bleeding away his other thoughts.

His lips found your neck, and he smirked against your skin as your head tilted to make room for him. A quick glance at the clock let him know you'd have enough time to enjoy each other before the fancy business dinner tonight, and he found himself slowly unlacing from the hug as he brought one hand to your breast.

He gained more access to your skin, and you rested your head back onto his shoulder and pushed yourself into his touch, but he was pulling his hand away a second later when he felt you stiffen as he tightened his grip around your soft flesh. "Sorry, Love."

"It's ok, I'm just a little sore." There was no explanation needed as to why, you knew he knew why, he always seemed to know.

His hand moved lower, rubbing the skin of your ribcage in long, soothing strokes as his lips moved from the dome of your shoulder up your neck. "Allow me to make it up to you?"

The offer was the definition of temptation, but there were things to be done and places to be. "Tonight, if all goes well at the dinner. I have to finish with the garden and then get ready for tonight."

The teeth against your skin were not in retaliation for your conditional refusal but a promise of things to come. "Then let me help you?"

"Of course." Your reason was wholly selfish, motivated by rolled up sleeves and rippling muscles at his instance of lifting heavy bags of soil. You finished your glass of water and went back outside, not missing how Ray's eyes followed your arms as you placed your sun hat back on your head. He smiled at you, it was earnest and filled with warmth. "What do you need me to do, Gorgeous?"

You couldn't help yourself, there was something in his desire to aid you in every need that sparked something in you. "Many things, My Darling, but right now, I need help with the tea roses."

He smiled and took two steps to close the distance between you before brushing his lips on your ear. "Your wish is my command."

****

The rest of the afternoon swam by in a haze for Ray. It was the kind of torture that the training he had received many lifetimes ago could not prepare him for, and with each passing moment, his thoughts grew more debauched until he was waxing poetic in his head like a madman.

As you finished your makeup, he could not get the image of you licking the strawberry juice from your lunchtime dessert off your lips out of his head. Breathing through his nose had become an affliction; top notes of your shower gel and the underneath of you were one thing, but there was the faintest hint of him there that made him want to sink his teeth in your bare skin so many times that the hotel's tofts would look away in shame the moment they saw you.

By the time you slid into the car, pressing your legs to his as Bunny drove you to the hotel, he was afire with need. He laced his hand with yours as the vehicle travelled down from the lush countryside to the bright lights of the city and leaned in close, his nose brushing your temple as he told you more about the guests at the party you were heading to.

There were already people milling around when you arrived, handing their bags off to the Bellhops so they could enjoy their complementary night in luxury. Ray was less willing to relinquish the bags and simply blinked as the hotelier became insistent. Nevertheless, the man still walked to your room on the sixth floor, smiling saccharinely as he told you to enjoy the complimentary champagne before the party started.

The opulence of the room and the expensive champagne sat ignored by you and Ray as he steeled himself for a night of making nice and glad-handing when he would rather be doing something far more enjoyable. He took your hands and drew you to the middle of the room, wrapping his arms around you as his nose returned to your hair for the millionth time that day. "You look beautiful as always."

You smiled and placed your hands on his chest. "And you keep sniffing me like some weirdo."

He took it in stride, chuckling softly as he yanked you to his chest. "I can't help it, you smell exquisite, it's driving me insane."

You sighed, enjoying the warmth of his arms around you. "I know what you're thinking, but we promised Mickey."

He mirrored your sigh as he broke the embrace and extended his hand. "I know. We should head down there now, the sooner we go down and mingle, the sooner we can leave."

His hand found your lower back as you took the lift to the grand hall and stayed there as you met up with Mickey and Rosalind and made introductions with the upper class lucky enough to receive invites. Of course, the reason for your invitations was the massive underground white widow super cheese farm under the hotel's private golf course.

It was painfully dull, standing around making small talk about the weather and wallpaper while eating tiny pies that only served to make you more hungry. Ray stayed stuck to your side, practically dragging you around with him while he did business for his boss.

"Your wife looks lovely tonight." Ray's arm tightened around you as you spun towards the voice.

"She looks lovely every night, Dave." If Dave had plans to say more, they were defeated by Ray's harsh glare as he pulled you away.

He moved to a quiet corner of the room and placed your hand on his ample bicep. "What's gotten into Ray? You've just about ripped the heads off anyone who's talked to me tonight. I get Dave, but the Simon's are nice."

He moved into your space, pressing you against the window as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger while he leaned in close enough that your noses were brushing. To outsiders, it would have looked like a private moment between lovers, but Ray's eyes were fixed on with a look so lustful it would have made the whore of Babylon blush. "What's gotten into me? I have spent the last two hours watching these pigs look you up and down while acting like I don't want to rip their arms off for even daring to speak to you."

You blinked, he was in a mood tonight. "Well, Dear. How about you stick it out for another hour so we can eat dinner from this stupid menu then, I'm all yours for the night?"

He swallowed and exhaled before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Of course Darling." His tone had shifted; it had taken on that gravelly tilt that created a flutter of excitement in your chest, and you eagerly headed back into the fray as Ray finally composed himself.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he leaned into your touch. "Thank you, Dear."

****

The dinner was the typical mess of rich people's food that had too many flavours and not enough on the plate, but Ray gave you all his cheese twirls and made sure to pick you the biggest slice of chocolate cake off the platter when dessert came around. All was going well until the tables were cast aside again for the wine course, and you were split from him as one of the tofts Mickey looked after pulled him away to talk about security.

His eye kept drifting over to you, and he grew ever more aggravated as he watched the sommelier try and fail to flirt with you. He dismissed the man he was talking to with the promise to call later, that he was tired and wanted to enjoy his hotel room and all but stormed over to you. "Are you enjoying the wine, Dear?"

You shook your head. "I've told the sommelier that I'm not interested in that variety, but he's being very insistent."

The man smiled and turned to Ray. "We have some of the best wine in the country here, your girlfriend…"

If looks could kill, Ray would have ended the man there and then. "My wife isn't interested, and I don't appreciate your tone or your attitude. I will be speaking to your employer in the morning to deal with this in full."

His hand was back on your lower back as he marched towards the lift, and between his puffed chest and his expression, no one dared to join you as the doors opened. The second the doors closed, he was on you, pressing you against the wall as his lips found yours. The grip he had on you was almost painful, his fingers digging firm into your skin as he held you in place for a searing kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

He finally allowed you to breathe when the doors opened on your floor, and he all but dragged you to your room as he shut the door and pressed up against it. His lips were on yours again, and his hands slid around your body until his fingers were curling around the fabric of your evening dress and ripping it open with the pop pop of fancy buttons.

He shoved the dress down, breaking from your lips for a moment to take in the lingerie you were wearing. "Fucking hell y/n." That went next, and his lips didn't give you the chance to admonish him about what he had paid for the now ruined fabric lying at your feet.

He once again broke from you and knelt on the floor, removing your shoes one by one before kissing his way up your legs, swapping legs with each kiss, getting closer and closer to your centre with each one until he slowed at the crease of the thigh. He was once again inhaling like he was suffocating, and you wove your hands into his hair as your frustration grew. "Can you do something instead of sniffing me?"

His teeth sunk into your skin in retaliation, and he was standing up to his full height with eyes full of threat. "Don't rush me." His hand cupped you, his fingers running your rapidly gathering wetness as he all but growled at you. "This cunt is mine, I get to take all the time I want, understand?"

You almost wanted to act out to see what it would make him do, but the poor man already looked pained enough. "Anything you want."

He locked you in another kiss, his teeth smarting at your lip as he made his wants known with a gentle pressure on your shoulders. "Get on your knees."

He kicked your ruined dress under you to soften the ground as you sunk down, and you pulled at his belt to free him. He helped you, shoving his trousers and boxers down in one go just far enough so his cock could spring out and you could grab his perfect ass unencumbered by fabric.

He looked down at you as you kitten licked around the head and felt another rush of this heated primal positiveness that he had been feeling the whole night. A hand found the back of your head as you took him into your mouth, and his free hand shot out to rest on a side table to steady himself as pleasure filled his senses.

He stopped himself from bucking his hips in order to focus on the vision of you sucking him like a lollipop. It was outright pornographic, and all he could think about was that you were all his and his alone. "Fucken 'ell, Love." You moaned around him, and he used every ounce of self-control to pull you off of him and to your feet. "Get on the bed."

His hands were all over you as you made your way to the bed, and he ran his hands up and down your sides while you spun around to face him so you could lay on your back on the plush mattress. You settled on the pillows as his lips met yours, and he finally began to remove his clothes.

Bare skin hit bare skin as his lips started a journey down your body until he was lifting your legs over his strong shoulders and onto his solid back. He kissed the bend of your knee, his lips soft as his beard brushed your skin. He locked eyes with you and smiled softly as he continued his journey upwards, finally arriving with barely there kisses that had you pushing your hips towards him. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours." A hot, wet heat enveloped you as he licked you from the entrance to clit in one firm, wide lick before sealing his lips around your clit. Ray had always been a man who prided himself on his attention to detail, and your bedroom was no different; it was like he had committed precisely what you needed to memory so well that he didn't even need to try, and tonight was no different.

He seemed more desperate tonight; accuracy swapped for the burning desire to consume your whole, and it didn't help that he was moaning against your flesh like he could somehow feel what he was doing to you in his own body. The chorus of his name from your mouth only served to spur him on, and a forearm pressed your hips down so you couldn't move away from him as he used his free hand to slide two fingers inside you.

With his rough fingertips bullying your G-spot, you didn't stand a chance, and he was far too strong for you to twitch away for a reprieve as the waves of an earth-shattering orgasm took you like the undertow of a raging river. Your chest heaved as he pulled away, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips. You licked him clean only to have him kiss away the taste like you had slighted him by taking him up on his offer, and then he was slotting himself between your spread wide legs and grinding his cock against your sensitive skin. "Tell me me you're mine."

"I'm yours." You marvelled at his self-control, his face buried in your neck as he continued teasing you. "I'm yours, please Ray."

He took his cock in hand and notched it at your entrance. "Who do you belong to?"

"You." Your reply was desperate, your hands on his heated chest with fingers curled in a threat should he persist in his game, but he didn't, and seemly satisfied with your declaration, he slid inside you with one confident push. The fullness of it stole the air from your lungs, and you lifted your hips up to take him in faster as he bottomed out.

His hand found your hip, and his fingers dug in with force as he began to move, taking a steady pace that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each pass. One of your hands wove into his hair while the other clutched at his back, and he pressed his lips to yours in a scalding kiss as he picked up speed. Mercifully, before he suffocated in the air stealing a kiss, his lips moved to your neck, and then his teeth were out, marking your skin like he was trying to prove a point about his ownership over you.

He pulled away for a moment and took in your blissed out face, faltering as the vision brought him teetering to the edge of oblivion far sooner than his ego would allow, so in a mix of the desire to uphold his pride and the need for more skin to mar he pulled out of your for a fleeting moment only to flip you over then slam back home as his teeth found more skin. He was overwhelming at this angle, and your fingers curled around the pillow as he slid a hand between you to rub your clit.

Ray would often tell you that you were good for his ego, that he could walk into a room where all the men would turn their heads to look, and he could smile knowing you were his alone. But this was something different, you writhing under him, stuck between frantic begging and breathless need made him feel like a God with you as his ever willing offering.

He captured you in another kiss as the edge neared, and you shuddered as, with one more precise circle to your clit, you fell over it. His hips didn't slow, and he growled into your mouth like a hungry animal as he chased his own high. "You're mine, I own you, understand?" All you could do was nod as your vision began to grey at the edges, but he must have accepted your answer because he all but roared as he came inside you.

His strength failed as it hit him full force, and the possessive beast inside him was finally satiated, knowing he had marked inside and out. He was mindful not to crush you, but he couldn't find it in himself to move away just yet, he couldn't let his hard work slip from you just yet. His lips were once again gentle as they kissed the marks his teeth had made, and you sighed as he brushed the stray hairs from your face.

His nose found its family home on the back of your neck, and his chest expanded against your back as he inhaled. "You must be intent on trying to kill me, My Dear."

You didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and rather than ask, you kissed him in hopes he would tell you anyway, but he didn't, and the weariness in your bones forced you to speak. "What do you mean?"

He finally rolled off you, and you laid on your sides facing each other as his hand ran up and down your side. "I can't understand how someone can smell so intoxicating, it truly is torture."

You reached up to lay a hand on his cheek, and he tilted his head to press his lips to your palm. "You get like this every month, I thought you'd be used to it by now."

He shook his head, sleepy. "Never, how can someone get used to being on fire."

"I suppose that's fair." There was more you wanted to say, but it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, and he could tell. Despite his own feelings, he was getting up to clean himself up before returning with his arms loaded. He brought you a glass of water and used one of your damp face cloths to cleanse away your makeup before using another damp cloth to remove the mess from between your legs, although he did pause to watch the evidence of your shared sin drip from your body and onto the expensive sheets as another wave of possessive filled him.

With his duty done, he disposed of the unclean fabric in a pile and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping you in his arms as he pulled you to his chest. "I love you y/n."

You relaxed into his arms and dropped a kiss on his chest where his heart lay. "I love you too, Ray."

In the morning, he would awaken you with ginger tea, a heating pad, and ibuprofen before climbing back into bed with you and soothing away your aches and pains until check out finally came. Room service would find no evidence of the mess Ray had left in the aftermath of your coupling, just a pile of towels already in the dirt laundry bin when they collected the cart at the start of their shift. He did, however, get a dirty look and a snide comment from the hotelier about what kind of establishment he was running. As you checked out, Ray took it in stride.

Fin

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

This is so sweet and sad and I love it. The end with just the two of them talking felt so intimate. They are so clearly still into each other ❤️ Thank you for writing this!!

Acquaintances

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/tags: 18+; bit of light angst, running into exes, brief fluff, and a hopeful ending

Summary: He was once the love of your life in college–someone you'd been planning a future with–but seeing him now, he felt just like a past acquaintance in a bar.

a/n: So the concept for this one shot was something that I'd written about back in a creative fiction writing course years ago and figured would be fun to rehash with Matt (who forced my hand with the hopeful ending). But that whole idea of knowing someone so intimately and then not knowing them at all is just...weird and relatable. Also, this is set more towards future Born Again era if you can't tell by all the facial hair. Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock one shot tag list: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte

“Ohh, wait,” Olivia said, catching your attention as she came to an abrupt stop. “What about this place?” 

Stopping on the sidewalk next to her, the city foot traffic began to stream around the pair of you. Your gaze followed her finger to the bar she was pointing at that you’d both stopped beside. ‘Josie’s’ was glaring back at you in red neon through the window. Taking a step closer to the glass, your feet unsteady in your heels from the couple of drinks you’d had earlier, you peered inside at the bar.

“Here?” you asked her skeptically.

You pulled a face at the dive bar before you, your eyes catching sight of the many gruff-looking men in cut-off shirts throwing back bottles of beer at the bar. The sound of rock music was noticeable even from your place on the sidewalk, and there was a sports game playing on the television that was hanging on the wall beside the bar. Despite you both living in Hell’s Kitchen, this place looked nothing like the usual bars the pair of you frequented to drink–certainly nothing like the bar the pair of you had just left.

Looking back over your shoulder, you raised a brow at your friend. “You want to go here ? I thought we were walking home.”

Olivia pouted back at you. “Oh come on, please?” she asked. “Live a little tonight. For me? Please just try something new? We can stop here for just one drink and then call it a night. For real, this time.”

Sighing, you threw your hands up in defeat. “Fine, if that’s what you want,” you relented. “It’s your promotion we’re celebrating. If you really want to finish your night out at a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen, then I suppose I’ll support you.”

“Great!” she exclaimed.

Not waiting for you to rescind your answer, she excitedly grabbed you by the hand and tugged you forward towards the door of the bar. Throwing it open wide, Olivia sauntered inside on her heels as if she hadn't just finished throwing back shots at another bar a few blocks away. You stepped inside behind her, running a hand nervously through your hair as Olivia continued to drag you over towards the bar.

When the pair of you reached the counter, you squeezed between your friend and the back of a burly man. Eyeing the sticky bar counter, you very carefully rested your hands against it as beside you, Olivia caught the attention of the older woman tending the bar. You noticed she was also dressed in a cut-off shirt, a dirty towel slung over her shoulder and a frown on her face. As she made her way over, you could see the way she scrutinized the pair of you like you didn’t belong.

“Can I get you two something?” she asked roughly, resting both of her hands against the opposite side of the counter. 

“Do you have a wine list?” Olivia asked. 

The woman behind the bar shot her a flat look. “No, I don't,” she answered simply.

“Then we'll take two glasses of whatever red you have,” Olivia continued unphased, the wide smile still on her face. 

Wordlessly the woman turned away, grabbing two wine glasses and beginning to work on pouring your drinks. Shifting to the side, Olivia rested an elbow on the bar as she focused back on you, beginning to dig through her purse.

“A wine list, seriously?” you asked her, opening up your own purse. “Here?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn't hurt to ask.”

“Right, well, I don't know what your intention with coming here was, but I doubt it'll be to experience a good merlot before we head home,” you teased. 

Olivia shrugged again, throwing some cash on the bar before you'd managed to dig it out of your own wallet. 

“My treat here, you've bought me enough drinks tonight,” she told you.

You opened your mouth to protest but were cut short by the surly bartender roughly setting two wine glasses onto the bar beside you. You shot her a friendly smile as you reached a hand out to grab the stem of one of the glasses, but the woman's expression still remained sour and unchanged.

“Enjoy,” she said flatly. 

Without another word, she grabbed the cash from the bar and turned, walking away to focus on another patron. Picking up your glass of wine, you exchanged a look with Olivia as she grabbed hers. 

“Such friendly service here at least,” Olivia joked.

You laughed, raising your glass out towards her. “Just remember this was your choice to come here,” you said. “But congratulations once again on the promotion. I know you heard that plenty when we were back drinking with everyone at Rosewood, but I'm proud of you. And I just want to add that I hope your wardrobe increases along with that new salary of yours because you deserve it.”

“Amen,” she replied with a grin, tapping her glass to yours.

You brought your glass up to your lips, drinking down some of the wine at the same time as Olivia beside you. Though it was bitter and unpleasant as it passed over your tongue and you pulled a face while reluctantly swallowing it down. Next to you, Olivia cringed as she set her own glass back onto the bar counter. 

“Well, it'll at least help get us drunk,” she muttered, making a face at the wine glass. “So there’s that.”

“Not exactly my goal tonight,” you reminded her.

“I'm still going to get you to relax one way or another tonight,” she said, pointing a finger at your chest. “But first, I might need to use the bathroom.”

Her eyes darted around the dimly lit bar as she began to search for the bathrooms. Slipping your phone out of your purse, you turned to face the bar counter more fully.

“I'll keep an eye on your drink then,” you told her.

She murmured a quick ‘thank you’ before slipping past you, making her way through the bar and towards the bathrooms. Unlocking your phone screen, you began to scroll through your work emails as you waited for her. Absently you picked up your glass of wine again, taking another sip. You immediately winced as the unpleasant taste hit your tongue once more and quickly set the glass back down, pushing it slightly away from yourself.

As you continued skimming through one of your messages while waiting for Olivia to return, someone roughly bumped into your elbow as they sidled up to the bar next to you. Your hands fumbled with your phone as it slipped momentarily out of your grasp. Hurriedly, you attempted to catch it before it could drop down onto the dirty floor.

“Shit, sorry,” the man beside you quickly apologized.

Finally getting a grasp on your phone, you glanced over at the man that had bumped into you, lips parting to say something back to him. But the sight of him caused you to pause, your mouth left hanging open. Something about him seemed oddly familiar as you stared at the side of his face. 

“Josie!��� he called out, waving the surly bartender over and paying you no mind. “We need another pitcher of beer!”

“I'm not putting it on your nonexistent tab, Nelson,” she replied, picking up an empty pitcher. 

Nelson? Why had that name sounded familiar?

“Oh come on, we're your favorite patrons and you know it!” the man said.

The sight of the woman actually breaking into a smile as she began to fill the pitcher took you by surprise, briefly breaking through your attempt to wrack your partially inebriated mind for how you knew the man beside you. 

Brows drawing together as you glanced back down at your phone, you kept repeating the name ‘Nelson’ over and over in your mind. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man look over his shoulder at you before focusing back on the bartender. But then you saw him quickly do a double-take, his attention fixing back on you. You frowned, now entirely positive you somehow knew each other.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out. Swiftly turning where he stood, the man faced you and said your name in something like shock. “Is it really you?”

Lowering your phone, you glanced back up at him. And then it fully hit you now that you weren't staring at his profile. Despite the hair he now wore cropped vastly shorter than back in college, the facial hair he’d clearly grown out, and the fact that he'd traded band shirts for a suit, you recognized him as Franklin Nelson–your college boyfriend's absolute best friend.

“Foggy?” you asked, surprised.

Josie set the pitcher of beer on the counter, her eyes dancing curiously between the pair of you. “You two know each other?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Foggy answered, a look of shock still on his face as he continued to stare at you. “We were close in college. She dated Matt for a long time. But I haven't seen you in years !” He reached a hand out, roughly clapping you on the shoulder. “How the hell have you been?”

“Uh, good,” you said, still surprised that you'd run into him. “How've you been doing?”

“Good, good. Believe it or not, Matt and I actually did it,” he told you excitedly. “We opened our own law firm!”

Brows rising up onto your forehead in surprise, you felt something stir in your chest at his name mentioned once more. It had been so long since you'd thought about him now. Even longer since you'd last seen him.

Matthew Murdock. You'd dated back when you'd both been going to Columbia. You’d both met in a philosophy class that you'd taken during your early college courses while working on your different degrees. The heated debates in class between you and Matt had led to discussions which had carried on outside of classes. And those had quickly devolved into grabbing drinks together while Matt openly flirted with you. Eventually the pair of you had begun to date, becoming nearly inseparable outside of classes. Until your graduation day, of course. 

Your breakup with Matt had been the hardest breakup you'd ever endured when things had finally ended. It had ultimately been a fairly amicable split despite the pain of the situation, though. But you'd never spoken to him after you graduated, even after sending him one final text a week later simply saying you were sorry. He'd never responded to that text.

“Oh, wow, that's impressive,” you said, trying to ignore the weird feeling suddenly stirring inside of you. “I'm surprised you guys actually did it. That’s–that’s great, really.”

“You know, you should actually come say hi,” Foggy told you, enthusiastically gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. “Matt's here, too.”

For a moment you stood there awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as you gaped at Foggy. That strange and unfamiliar feeling began to writhe in your gut, one you were sure had nothing to do with the terrible wine you'd just been drinking. The thought of seeing Matt again with the history you two had after all these years that had passed just felt…odd. 

“I'm sorry, is that weird?” Foggy asked when you hadn't responded. His nose scrunched up on his face as he nodded, studying the look on your own face. “Yeah, that's weird, isn't it? Who wants to see their ex, right?”

“I–”

“Hey, who's this?” Olivia asked, reappearing on the other side of Foggy and eyeing him curiously. “You make a new friend already while I was gone?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “Actually, Liv, this is an old friend of mine from college,” you told her. 

“Oh my God, that’s right!” Olivia exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “You did go to college nearby!”

Foggy immediately turned towards Olivia, sticking his hand out towards her with a large smile on his face. “Foggy Nelson, nice to meet you,” he greeted her.

“Olivia Martinez,” she introduced herself, shaking his hand in return. “So I take it the pair of you were catching up?”

“Somewhat,” Foggy answered, watching as she grabbed her glass from off the bar beside you. “I'd actually just stuck my foot in my mouth asking if she wanted to go say hi to her college ex. I mean that’s weird, right?”

Olivia's eyes lit up at his words and your shoulders slumped at the sight. You knew where this was heading. 

“Your ex is here?” she asked curiously, eyes darting between you and Foggy. 

“Apparently so,” you answered awkwardly. “But look, we are here celebrating you and–”

“No, no, no!” she exclaimed, waving a hand at you. “I don't mind at all! We can go say hi if you want. I'd certainly love to meet your college friends. Maybe hear some embarrassing stories.”

You stood there, your heart speeding up in your chest nervously as both Foggy and Olivia continued to stare expectantly at you, waiting for a response. Mouth feeling dry, you reached your hand out and grabbed your glass of wine from off the counter beside you, forcing a smile onto your face.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” you replied. “I can–can go say hi, I guess.”

“Great!” Foggy exclaimed, reaching past you to grab the pitcher of beer Josie had set down a bit ago now. “You can meet our other firm partner, too. Karen Page. You’ll love her, I promise.”

You hummed out a noise in response, grateful Olivia was at least excitedly talking Foggy’s ear off as you began to follow behind him through the bar. Raising your wine glass to your lips as you walked, you drank a few deep gulps of it down and fought back your urge to gag at the taste. Seeing Matt again certainly hadn’t been on your agenda for the evening, and now you worried about how seeing him was going to make you feel with the way your body was already beginning to react at just the prospect of it. 

In your final year at Columbia, you swore Matt was going to be the one. You’d had plans to get an apartment together in Hell’s Kitchen after your graduation. Matt had even been the one to suggest the idea of moving in together, often talking about how excited he would be to finally have you all to himself, not having to worry about roommates and dorm room rules anymore. You’d grown excited at the idea too, already imagining how your lives would blend together as you both steadily found your place in the city. You’d even begun picturing marrying Matt–though you’d planned for that to be far later, years farther down the road still. Sometimes Matt himself seemed to even hint at your futures entwining together with how he talked about plans he was making. Everything had always sounded so perfect, feeling like both your lives were easily falling into place as if they were always meant to. 

For the duration of your senior year the pair of you had been planning everything out together, covering every detail as you both laid awake–sometimes in Matt’s dorm, sometimes in yours. You’d be wrapped around each other, hands clasped together, discussing everything from how you’d furnish the apartment, to dividing up chores, to future date plans when you both weren’t so broke. You’d both even talked about getting a cat, joking back and forth about names and never being able to agree on one. But the entire beautiful image the pair of you had been painting together had shattered to pieces when you’d been offered a job all the way out in Miami, Florida.  

There’d been a job fair shortly before graduation. A friend of yours had talked you into attending with her and you’d gone, hoping to line up a few prospects somewhere in the city and end up with something in order to afford the apartment you and Matt had both been hoping to get together. It was just because your friend had encouraged you that you’d done it, leaving your resume with a recruiter for a position that you knew was in Miami while knowing full well Matt had no interest in ever leaving Hell’s Kitchen. He’d told you countless times over the years that this city was his home. You honestly hadn’t expected a damn thing to come of it though, forgetting entirely about the job shortly afterwards. But a few days after the job fair you’d been asked for a phone interview and barely a day later you’d been offered the job. And it had been the only job offer you’d received.

You’d cried in your dorm for two nights straight, lying to Matt about why you couldn’t see him and telling him you’d felt sick. And truthfully you had felt sick to your stomach. Part of you was tempted to reject the offer, knowing at some point you could have found something in the city here and continued on the path you’d already planned out with Matt. But the certainty of a job and a salary with an amount you could barely fathom what to do with had you struggling to say no. The only thing holding you back from accepting it had been Matt. If you knew he’d have come with you to Miami, you’d have immediately taken the position.

Eventually through tears you’d told Matt what was going on and why you’d been avoiding him. How you’d been struggling back and forth with figuring out how to make the right decision on something so big. He’d been the one to solemnly take your hands in his and insist that you take the job, telling you it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He promised the pair of you would figure things out, maybe manage something long distance for a brief bit while he finished his law degree. But as the final weeks passed for you at Columbia, things had grown tense between you two. And after graduation, you’d come to the heartbreaking decision to end things with him, not knowing how a long distance relationship would work with the way things had already started to fall apart. Still dressed in your powder blue cap and gown, you broke down on campus amidst all the other excited students as you ended the years long relationship with Matt. You’d both sat together on Columbia’s lawn for an hour afterwards, crying and holding each other as you said your goodbyes.

And that had been the last time you’d ever seen Matt.

Until right this very moment as you approached the table he was sitting at, Foggy and Olivia walking a few steps ahead of you. Matt was sitting beside a pretty blonde, the pair of them laughing lightly with each other. For the briefest moment your feet faltered on the sticky bar floor as your heart nearly lurched straight out of your throat at the sight of him. He’d certainly changed over the years, but you could still tell it was Matt beneath those red glasses, that dark beard, and the crisp navy suit. 

But at the same time, it was difficult marrying the image of the man sitting right there with the same one you’d known all those years ago. Gone was the fresh shaven face and his black, rectangular glasses you’d always known. The hands that were currently holding an almost empty glass of beer might have been the same hands that had once tenderly held you all those years ago on the night you’d lost your virginity to him. They might have once been hands that had carefully and gently loved you, hands that had held yours and comforted you, but now they were attached to a man you didn’t even know anymore. 

The feeling that washed over you as Foggy greeted the table was impossible to capture into words. It was something that felt jarring and unsettling as you stared at him. Years ago you’d planned to have a future with him, but looking at him now, he felt almost like an acquaintance you barely knew despite the intimate past you both shared. 

Your hands tightened around the stem of your wine glass, your pulse racing as you mentally kicked yourself for agreeing to come say hello to him. He was practically a stranger to you now, both of you having lived entirely separate lives for longer than you’d even been together. What were you even supposed to say to him? He couldn’t possibly care about catching up with his college ex. 

“Matt, you are not going to believe who I ran into at the bar!” Foggy exclaimed.

You continued standing just a step behind Olivia as if you could somehow hide behind her. But as Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side–an adorable habit of his you were surprised to see he still did–the blonde at the table focused her eyes past Olivia and on you. She shot you a warm and friendly smile as if she could see the nerves written on your face, but the sight of it did nothing to slow the frantic pounding of your heart. You felt like you were going to be sick as Olivia continued to stand there, openly gawking at Matt.

“Who?” Matt asked curiously, a crease forming between his brows.

Foggy said your name and you watched as recognition gradually dawned across Matt’s face. It suddenly felt like the bar was closing in on you, both of your hands growing damp against the wine glass you were clutching.

“Wait, she’s here?” Matt asked next, shock evident in his tone. “Here in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Yeah, buddy, I was just as surprised as you are! I told her she should come say hi because it’s been so damn long,” Foggy answered before glancing back at you, a bright smile on his face.

Thankfully Olivia spoke up first, giving you a chance to find your voice as you stood there, your eyes roving over Matt’s face. There was something strange in the way that it was familiar yet so changed. And in the years since you’d last seen him, he’d only grown more handsome.

“Wait, that’s your ex?” Olivia said, gesturing a hand towards Matt. “You mean to tell me you two dated in college?”

Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, you nodded slightly. “Yeah,” you answered, your voice sounding a little off. “For a few years.”

Matt’s gaze immediately landed on you when you’d spoken, his brows twitching faintly above his glasses. It was hard to read the expression on his face with the way they were covering his eyes. Eyes that you’d always thought were so beautiful and expressive, whether it was when he was arguing with you in an impassioned, philosophical debate, or fondly focused on you as he confessed that he was in love with you. 

“I thought you were in Miami?” Matt questioned.

Swallowing hard, you tried to keep your trembling knees from giving out beneath you under the heavy weight of his sightless stare. How was seeing him again after all of these years having such an effect on you? 

“Yeah, I was,” you answered, aware of three other sets of eyes curiously darting between the pair of you. “Until almost a year ago. I was looking for a change and missing the city. Grew tired of the humidity and hurricanes, too,” you lightly joked.

A faint smile tugged the corner of Matt’s mouth upwards, your gaze dropping towards the movement. It was once the same mouth you’d kissed so many times before without even thinking about it. A mouth that had spoken so many encouragements and declarations of love to you, but also one that had told you jokes and brought you pleasure in ways that no other mouth ever had since. It was both familiar and not all at once.

“So you came back?” Matt asked.

  “I came back,” you repeated softly. “Suppose it’s no surprise you’re still in Hell’s Kitchen though.”

He shot you a small smile as he nodded his head. “I never could manage to leave it,” he told you.

For a moment the pair of you stood there, eyeing each other wordlessly in your own ways as the sound of the bar filled the growing silence. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Olivia watching you curiously, swirling her wine in her glass. To your left, you could see a smile gradually spreading across Foggy’s face before he glanced over at the blonde.

“Who says we pull up two more chairs?” Foggy suggested, loudly breaking the lull in conversation. “We can all get to know each other! Get reacquainted again and catch up!”

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” the blonde replied, that friendly smile never leaving her face.

“I agree,” Matt said, still focused on you.

Glancing over at Olivia, you saw the mischievous grin growing on her face. She gave you a slight nod of encouragement, her eyes pointedly telling you to say yes. Nervously biting your lip, you glanced back over at Foggy.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That sounds good.”

Foggy beamed back at you before he turned, grabbing two more chairs from a nearby table and drawing them over to where the others were sitting. The blonde slid over to make room at the table, introducing herself as Karen as she did. Olivia was fast to introduce herself to the group, quickly making herself comfortable in a chair. 

Hesitantly you made your way over to the table, sitting down in the last open seat which was on Matt’s left. Setting your glass of wine onto the table, you slowly lowered yourself into the chair beside him. Matt immediately focused his attention on you and you ducked your head, feeling even more nervous sitting beside him after all of these years. 

“Hey,” he greeted you softly.

“Hey,” you greeted just as quietly back.

“It’s been awhile,” he said.

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes. “Quite a few years.”

“Guess that means we have some catching up to do,” he told you, a smile gradually growing on his face.

Your eyes spotted the lone dimple of his; it was just barely visible beneath his dark beard, but it was there. Some other feeling began to gradually fill you at the sight of it, this one warm and familiar in comparison to the way you'd first felt when you’d spotted him sitting at the table. You always had loved that lone dimple. 

“Yeah, I guess that does,” you replied, gradually smiling back at him.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

being mutuals isn’t enough I wanna sit in the bathroom while you shower so we can talk