#I've seen them all and I smooch all of you

[nitrateglow]

Spooky Season 2024: 12-22

Phantom of the Mall: Eric's Revenge (dir. Richard Friedman, 1989)

The opening of the new mall is hampered by one thing: a Phantom hiding in the air vents, and committing robbery and murder. It turns out this Phantom is really a teenager named Eric (Derek Rydall) disfigured in a fire set by the mall's developers to clear out any remaining houses impeding their dreams of commercial development. Now, Eric plans on having his revenge and watching over his girlfriend Melody (Kari Whitman), now an employee of the mall. But what will he make of her burgeoning romance with a journalist?

Talk about pure '80s cheese. This film feels like it was made to capitalize on the slasher cycle and the popularity of the Andrew Lloyd Weber Phantom of the Opera megamusical. It's not a particularly good movie, but it is dumb fun. I love how this Phantom makes free use of the goods available in the stores and how he spams his spin kick attack like he's in a video game.

Also, Pauly Shore is in this. He has a great scene talking about subliminal messaging in department stores, but is otherwise the usual Pauly Shore.

Hangover Square (dir. John Brahm, 1945)

Musician George Harvey Bone (Laird Cregar) is disturbed by long sessions in which he blacks out. He fears he may be committing murder, but is reassured by the police when he goes to them that isn't likely. Detective Dr. Allen Middleton (George Saunders) advises the overworked George take a break from composing. George does so by going to a pub where he meets the lovely Netta Longdon (Linda Darnell), a music hall entertainer who dreams of fame. George and Netta enter into a toxic relationship in which she uses him to advance her career while seeing other men on the side. When George discovers her treachery, his blackouts return-- this time in a far more violent form.

I'm starting to become fascinated by John Brahm, a director best remembered for his moody, macabre dramas in the 1940s. Hangover Square was his second and final collaboration with the talented but doomed Laird Cregar, who died two months before the film was released. It's as much a noir as a horror picture, drenched in that chiaroscuro lighting and urban dread so common to the classic cycle.

Cregar is astonishing in the lead role. Though handsome, he was a bigger man, so Hollywood refused to allow him to transition into leading man parts. He is marvelous here, passionate and sensitive, yet also sinister once his jealous rage takes over. I've seen Cregar in multiple films and he was truly fantastic, able to be comic as well as dramatic. Hollywood didn't deserve him.

Lastly, Linda Darnell's character sings this really catchy song when Cregar first sees her. I saw this film weeks ago but it is STILL STUCK IN MY HEAD.

The Sealed Room (dir. DW Griffith, 1909)

In some nondescript time period (everyone's dressed like it's either the early 18th century or the middle ages), a king (Arthur V. Johnson) learns his mistress (Marion Leonard) is smooching with a musician (Henry B. Walthall). Jealous to the point of rage, he has the couple sealed in a small room where they suffocate to death.

The Sealed Room is a gem from the nickelodeon era, though I admit my liking for it comes from how extra all the performances are, even by the standards of the early silent period.

It also has one of my favorite instances of what I like to call "silent film logic"-- that is, scenes featuring action that would be very loud in real life, but in a silent film, you may not think about it as much. Here, the king has the lovers walled up alive in a small room, where they lounge unaware. And yet, there's workers slapping up a brick wall not ten feet away from them! It's very amusing.

Frankenhooker (dir. Frank Henenlotter, 1990)

When his girlfriend Elizabeth (Patty Mullen) gets hacked to death by an automatic lawnmower he built, medical student Jeffrey (James Lorinz) decides to resurrect her by killing sex workers for their shapely body parts then sewing Elizabeth's severed head on top. He does this by having his victims smoke explosive crack.

No, I'm not making this up.

I first heard about Frankenhooker from James Rolfe of Angry Video Game Nerd fame. It sounded so insane that I knew I had to watch it. It's-- well, it's definitely a bizarre movie with lots of crude humor and pitch black jokes.

Would you believe me if I said it was kind of an unsung feminist work? I definitely did not expect THAT angle coming in, but that messaging is definitely there. Jeffrey is a villain-protagonist through and through, even before he starts committing murder. We learn he was already demanding Elizabeth modify her appearance to suit his tastes before she got killed. He views women as more a collection of body parts than proper people. However, his misogyny does catch up with him in the end and his fate at the resurrected Elizabeth's hands is the very definition of irony. I don't want to spoil it.

It's definitely not for everyone, but if you have a sick sense of humor and some friends that share that humor, you'll have a good time.

Friday the 13th: Part 2 (dir. Steve Miner, 1981)

A summer camp close to the infamous Camp Crystal Lake is about to open. Little do the young, horny counselors know, Jason (Warrington Gillette and Steve Daskewicz)-- the boy that allegedly drowned long ago-- is still alive and he's mad his mama got decapitated in the previous film. Lots of people die.

I confess I have a hard time getting into these Friday the 13th films. I've read it took a few entries for the series to find its footing as gloriously dumb schlock, but the first one and this sequel were mostly boring for me. About all I liked was the last twenty minutes, when the heroine's background in child psychology comes into play. Otherwise, this gets a big meh from me. Not horrible, but nothing I can imagine I'll ever rewatch.

Corridor of Mirrors (dir. Terence Young, 1948)

A party girl (Edana Romney) becomes involved with a Renaissance era-obessed artist (Eric Portman). Their fetishistic relationship leads to heartbreak and murder.

Already discussed this one is great detail at my Wordpress blog. It's a great romantic thriller in the vein of Vertigo and Rebecca.

The Old Dark House (dir. James Whale, 1932)

During a thunderstorm, a group of unwary British travelers are marooned at the crumbling mansion of the Femm family, a collection of eccentrics who may be insane. Everything goes wrong: the hulking butler gets drunk and preys on the women visitors, the area may flood, the lights go out, and there may be a homicidal maniac imprisoned in one of the rooms upstairs. Will anyone survive the night?

I have raved about this film for a long time now. It's truly a favorite of mine in general, not just for the Halloween season. Both witty and chilling, it's an atmospheric masterpiece. The damp and mold are palpable.

What fascinates me most is the Femm family itself and the gaps in their backstory. This is one movie where I feel like there's a Tolstoyan novel's worth of drama with the Femms. It's hinted that the 102-year-old patriarch of the house (played in drag by actress Elspeth Dudgeon) used to host orgies there. The death of the seductive sister Rebecca at the age of 21 may or may not have been due to inter-family foul play. Morgan the butler has a close, even weirdly tender relationship with the homicidally insane brother Saul, suggesting a myriad of possible connections between them. It's very interesting-- I like that the movie doesn't fill in all the blanks.

A Game of Death (dir. Robert Wise, 1945)

Don Rainsford (John Loder), big game hunter extraordinaire, finds himself shipwrecked on a mysterious island. The owner is Erich Kriegler (Edgar Barrier), an urbane German who also enjoys hunting, though with a slight difference-- he likes hunting humans. Teaming up with other shipwreck survivors Ellen (Audrey Long) and Robert (Russell Wade), Don tries finding a way to escape before they become Kriegler's next wall trophies.

This movie is a pallid, watered down, shot-for-shot remake of The Most Dangerous Game, one of the crown jewels of 1930s horror, so of course, I am not fond of it. And yet, I rewatch it every few years, so it must have something going for it. So instead of tearing into it as I normally do, I'll list a few things I think are actually good about it:

I like that the main character initially tries tricking Kriegler into thinking he will hunt people with him. Very pro-active.

I think Kriegler is a good villain. Not as memorably deranged and campy as Leslie Banks' Zaroff in the original film, but chilling in a more low-key way. His "the strong deserve to prey upon the weak" philosophy fits in nicely with Nazi ideologies-- no doubt what this wartime horror flick intended.

Um... I think Audrey Long is really pretty. I like her flow-y outfits.

... Yeah, that's it.

The Most Dangerous Game (dir. Ernest B. Schoedsack and Irving Pichel, 1932)

All-American big game hunter Bob Rainsford (Joel McCrea) is shipwrecked on the unlisted island of Count Zaroff (Leslie Banks), a Russian aristocrat and master sportsman who claims he now hunts "the most dangerous game" of all. Being a himbo, it takes Bob a while before he realizes that game is human beings. Unwilling to hunt alongside Zaroff when given the offer, Rainsford and fellow prisoner Eve Trowbridge (Fay Wray) wage a game with Zaroff: let loose into the island's thick jungle, if they survive the night without Zaroff or the terrain killing them, they'll go free. If not, Rainsford dies and Eve will become a rather different kind of quarry for the evil count.

Now, here's my favorite "hunter hunts people" movie! While "The Most Dangerous Game" has been adapted and ripped off multiple times for a century, the original is still hard to beat. The castle set drips with gothic grandeur. The jungle soundstage is thick and suffocating, and once the chase intensifies, it becomes like something out of a nightmare.

I actually think the climactic hunt is among the greatest sequences in all cinema. The editing is so dynamic and the images are brilliant. And when you consider this is still an early talkie, when films were still trying to rediscover their footing after silent cinema came to an end, it becomes even more remarkable.

Going on Letterboxd, I was shocked to find a lot of people on there have mixed to negative opinions about this movie, largely because they think it's too over the top and that it's messaging is too on the nose.

I mean-- yes, these things are true, but I don't see them as flaws. It probably helps that I love camp and melodrama, and am not ashamed to admit it. And regardless of the fervent camp on display, I still think the trophy room scene is creepy and the chase is super intense. I have probably seen this movie close to a hundred times and yet, the chase still has me shouting at the TV, willing the characters to run faster. That's damn fine filmmaking.

The Haunting (dir. Robert Wise, 1963)

A researcher of the paranormal brings a motley crew of ordinary people into the allegedly haunted Hill House. Both potential ghosts and the neuroses of the visitors bring on sinister events and ultimately tragedy.

I love this movie more and more. I already wrote a bit about my reaction this time around, though since then, I started rereading the source novel, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House. Obviously, the book delves more deeply into Eleanor's psyche, but the film does a fantastic job of this as well. Given film is a visual medium, it can be a challenge to depict a character's interior state without delving into expressionism and this film does that well.

The Phantom of the Opera (dir. Terence Fisher, 1962)

Aspiring songstress Christine Charles (Heather Sears) and producer Harry Hunter (Edward de Souza) are drawn into a mystery at the London Opera House. A phantom is sabotaging any attempt to produce Joan of Arc: A Tragedy, a show allegedly written by the cold, snobby, rapey Lord Ambrose (Michael Gough). After some investigating, it turns out the Phantom (Herbert Lom) was once the meek-mannered Professor Petrie, whose music was stolen by Ambrose. Now, he wants only to see his opera done justice and only Christine's voice can make that happen.

I am very fond of this version of The Phantom of the Opera even though I think it has a myriad of dramatic flaws. Let's get the flaws out the way first. I think the film is a bit repetitive in retelling us Petrie's story over and over, at first through onscreen description and then through filmed depiction. I also think the ending is anti-climactic, like the writers didn't want to go the usual route of making the Phantom a homicidal maniac but they weren't sure how to make a properly dramatic finish without that characterization.

That out the way, this is a unique, even refreshing retelling in many ways. The Phantom/Christine relationship is no longer one of unrequited love-- in fact, Petrie seems wholly uninterested in romance or sex at all. He views Christine and himself as victims of the truly despicable Lord Ambrose: Petrie had his music stolen and Christine was sexually harrassed. Therefore, it is up to the two of them to wrest the opera back from Amrbose's influence and make it the production Petrie wanted. Petrie is one hard taskmaster. He is relentless in training Christine and at one point throws filthy sewer-water in her face when she faints.

But the Phantom is hardly an out and out villain here. He doesn't even kill people-- he has a convenient hunchbacked assistant to do that. No, the real baddie is Ambrose, among the nastiest villains in the Hammer canon. Ambrose never even kills anyone, yet he makes the blood boil with his wanton cruelty. Michael Gough (who I always remember best as Alfred in the Tim Burton Batman movies, as well as Batman Forever and Batman and Robin) is so good at being bad.

This version of POTO also has my favorite version of the Phantom's compositions. Usually, he writes a "burning" piece called Don Juan Triumphant, fitting his romantic obsession with Christine. Here, Petrie writes an opera about Joan of Arc, a virginal saint persecuted by powerful men-- a fitting subject for Petrie given his own persecution by an aristocrat. Joan's aria "I Hear Your Voice" is gorgeous and always brings me to tears, it's that beautiful.

Not a perfect film, but still a very good one.

[veillsar]

This might single-handedly be the best words of encouragement I've ever received. Is this what an angelic blessing feels like? You are a person after my own digital-artist-heart, and I give you the biggest smooch. I gratefully take your blessing and absolutely put my whole bussy into bat comic part 2, thank you.

[ravarui]

// Gonna post the other asks for the positivity once I am off work tomorrow. Got another early shift ahead, so I am gonna call it an early night. Love you all <3

[asterdeer]

crying over there being official stolitz kiss merch while these stupid bitches are in the throes of a category 5 oblivious moment

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.

Content: female reader, fluff

[Part 3] | [Part 5] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.

The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.

One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.

"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.

"We could even go on a trip around New Year."

Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly. 

"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly. 

"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly. 

"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire. 

"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."

You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:

"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."

The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.

He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.

As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.

On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?

Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.

"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings. 

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."

"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously. 

"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."

"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.

Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation. 

"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is. 

Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."

You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category. 

Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines. 

But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness. 

"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"

"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.

Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.

"Did you...?"

"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly. 

"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.

Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information. 

"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"

"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."

You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously. 

"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls. 

"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."

"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."

Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed. 

"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."

The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right. 

"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"

The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit. 

You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table. 

"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.

"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family." 

His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.

"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.

"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically. 

"Attagirl!"

As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.

He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture. 

"I see Daitou's trained you already."

He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards. 

"You'll make a good wife."

"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark. 

"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou. 

"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!

Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.

And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"

You nod energetically.

"Good, good."

He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.

"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...

Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."

You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed. 

"I think so, too." You respond, waving back. 

How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family. 

[ddejavvu]

hi! i loved loved LOVED ur bestfriend!james who doesn’t know any boundaries 🙏 can u make another one? maybe like sirius and remus catching them “platonically” kiss or something 😆 it can’t be surprising given that james hands was on inside her thighs??

thank uu!! love u lots

saw a headcanon once that james is an excited kisser and i've never seen him any other way since

--

Sirius and James are prolific gamblers. No matter what they're betting on, be it how many first years will stumble on the moving staircases in one week, or which corridor Ms. Norris will catch two fifth-years making out in tonight, they bet like addicts slumming around a glittering casino.

Today's bet was this: If Hagrid and the new Care of Magical Creatures Aid, a fairy brought in to offer insight into creatures' anatomy, don't notice that their respectively oversized and undersized silverware have been switched at the staff's table, Sirius wins. If they do, James wins.

Hagrid, absentminded and happy-to-be-there as he is, doesn't mention the tiny fork that he's been given, if he notices at all. But the fairy struggles to lift the rather large knife sat beside her place, and flutters beside Hagrid's hand, setting her own on his callused skin. She speaks in a low voice, soothing and sweet, and he's more than happy to switch with her when they realize what's happened. You're not sure what her end of the conversation contains, but Hagrid's voice is loud and proud as he theorizes about a particular group of Gryffindors and their penchant for pranks.

"Shit," Sirius grumbles, at the same time that James cheers, "Fuck yeah!"

One of his hands clenches into a fist at his side and he jerks it towards his side in a celebratory motion, but his excitement can't be contained in the simple gesture, and he rounds on you to get the rest of it out.

It's with a gleeful grin that he presses his curved lips straight onto yours, hands shooting out to clutch at your cheeks, preventing you from moving away. It's a habit he's got, neither good nor bad, that compels him to lay a smooch on whichever one of his friends is near when he's feeling extra excited. It's been you more times than you can count, and you let him smoosh his lips to yours at his secured victory.

You're barely able to laugh a broken, "James!" as he pulls away, still muffled by a mouthful of breakfast. Sirius and Remus are very vocal in discussing their repulsion at that particular fact, watching you chew and swallow with exaggerated grimaces.

"Mate, there was still food in there," Sirius hums, sounding wounded, "You can just take more eggs from the dish, there's no need to scavenge for hers."

"Oh, fuck off," James reaches for a strip of bacon on Sirius's plate, gleeful excitement at having won not yet faded, "I won. You owe me your sausages for the rest of the week."

"I've only got one sausage," Sirius laments, looking down past his plate into his lap, "But if it'll settle the score you can have a taste, mate."

"N'thanks," James snickers, barely concealing a look of his own disgust at the thought, "Moony might start resource guarding."

[shoyudon]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏 .ᐟ

starring. gojo satoru x fem! reader

heads up. gojo being clingy + sick

note. starting off brand new and fresh, whew. anyways, first post on the blog, yay! i've seen on tiktok that people commented that boys get 100x more dramatic when they get sick, so here's gojo being sick.

gojo is childish. there was no denying that — but sick gojo? times two, or maybe times three? deemed as the strongest sorcerer, he's had his fair share of getting injured, hurt, or even life threatening injuries. and he still ends up staying strong for the sake of everyone.

yet, here he was, all bundled and tucked in. a wet and cold teal colored towel sleeping on his forehead as he sniffled loudly, "satoru, how many times do i have to tell you to let it out? don't sniffle it — you'll hurt your head."

"baby," he whines out hoarsely, "i can't. your boyfriend is dying. i don't think i can do this any longer."

you rolled your eyes, a huff escaping your throat, "satoru, you're being dramatic aga—" before you could finish your statement, gojo grabbed your hand, squeezing it.

"i'm dying, i love you — i'm going to miss you."

this prompted you to crack a small smile, raising a brow as you squeezed his hand back slightly, "you're not dying, it's just a fever! you've gotten worse wounds, 'toru."

gojo cried out softly, phlegm coughed out of his throat, leaving him whining and squirming uncomfortably on the bed. he shrugs off the towel that has now gone warm because of his temperature, "i need love and affection, please cuddle me."

"no, what you need is sleep and rest."

"cuddle me to sleep, i can't sleep without your cuddles and you know it," he childishly tantrums, slamming his fist to the mattress weakly, "please? or i'm going to hold my breath, no joke, baby."

scoffing, you replied, "have you tried counting sheep?" it was meant to be sarcastic.

a strained whine yet again came from him, "baby, do you not love me anymore? counting sheep is a myth, it doesn't work. only your cuddles do," he opened his arms widely, waiting for you to fall into them.

"you're sick. i could get sick," you flick his forehead, "that's why — rest and then get better, you can get the cuddles after you recover."

gojo gasps out dramatically, "the least you could do is give me a smooch on the forehead, that'll make me feel a bit better, i guarantee," he serenades.

despite how dramatic he is, you still gave in to his words. with a light laugh, you leaned in; pressing your lips onto his warm forehead — and then to the tip of his nose, "there, two kisses. feel better soon, yeah?"

he sighs out in content, "this is so much better than counting sheep. can i have another one, on my lips?"

"go to sleep."

gojo narrows his eyes, "whatever happened to i love you?" he positioned himself so that his back was facing you instead, "i knew it, you don't love me anymore."

you grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back to face you — brushing his white locks back with your fingers, you smiled down at him, "i love you, satoru. get well soon, baby."

he beams out happily, leaning into your touch like a happy puppy, "i love you most!"

© shoyudon 2024 . no copies or reposting allowed !

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Cassian: some honkas

its crack yall

“Baby, do I have man titties?” 

You didn’t know if you should look up or keep reading your book. You love the man dearly but sometimes, some random shit comes out of his mouth. 

“I know you heard me. Your foot twitched.” He said. 

“Maybe my foot is just twitchy.” You dryly said back, turning a page. 

“Maybe you’re ignoring your lovely mate and husband.”

You looked up, sighing. “Yes Cassian?”

“That’s all I get?”

“My love, my light, the reason I breathe, what do you want?” You asked dryly. Even though your tone was dry and deadpan, you both knew that he was in fact, your love, your light. 

“That’s better.” He grinned as he walked to you in the chaise lounge. Pulling your feet into his lap, he wasn’t even out of his training clothes and was already massaging your feet. 

You loved your Lord of Bloodshed bat. He may be the most powerful war general in centuries but he’s a gentleman! 

“Do I have man titties?”

Yeah, hearing it a second time did not help your laughter. You snorted and he gasped. “I do?!” 

“They’re very nice titties.” You giggled. “I love them. Best rack I've ever been with. And I've been with some honkas.” You laughed. 

“Am I just a slut to you?”

“No, you’re a slut for me, baby.” You grabbed his arm, “there’s a difference.” You giggled. 

He looked flabbergasted. You continued. “Who said you have man titties?”

He pouted. “Azriels girl.” 

You snorted even harder. “Hey, Az has man titties too! Just not as scrumptious.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Who else has man titties?”

You shrugged. “Babe, this conversation is not something you wanna do.” 

“No no tell me whose ‘honkas’ you’ve been looking at!” He playfully yelled as he pulled your legs so your butt was resting against his thigh. 

“Feyre’s got a nice pair. I’d motorboat Lucien's any-“

He tickled your foot which cause you to glare and shriek. The shriek ruined the intimidation of the glare. 

“Lucien?!” He asked incredulously. “When did you see his?”

“I haven’t? Do you think I've seen Fey’s?” 

He shrugged. “I don't know what you girls do at sleepovers.”

“uh…Not that.” Except that one time Mor needed help seeing if a mole was worrisome. But. He didn’t need to know that. “But, your pair of titties is my faaavorite.” You drew him closer to you. 

“Yeah yeah.” He looked down at yours, your top shifting so it showed more of your tits. “Yours are mine.”

“Better fucking be.” You muttered and smooched his temple. 

[askinkiskarma]

i just had an idea while talking with ai neteyam last night. What about human reader asking neteyam to make a "movie" together. Or else neteyam learning about porn thanks to one of the guy from the lab and asking reader if she wants to do one. ‼️

wait no cause Neteyam learning about human stuff does things to me and I need to write more of it for my own sanity. also i've discovered my fave trope to write is "people doing embarrassing things and other people catching them and the interactions that bloom thereafter". anyway, enjoy bestie x

ps: i'm probably going to have reached 1800 followers when this is posted so thank you besties ilysm smooches!!!

wc: 990 words

18+ minors dni

Neteyam was up and early today in the lab, too excited to see you and spend the day together to wait any longer. He was a bit disillusioned though, as he came and found you fast asleep in your bed, but despite the minor disappointment, he absolutely adored how relaxed and comfortable you looked as you were splayed like a starfish under the covers, your feet dangling slightly off both sides of the mattress.

He decided to keep busy for a while with the scientists in the lab. He essentially grew up with Norm and Max, a strange, peculiar constant in his otherwise all Na'vi lifestyle and he had his dad to thank for that. He loved them, they were like uncles to him, and despite how much he hated to admit it, there were certain things about humanity he liked, and certain things about humans he found... endearing. Clearly, he thought with a chuckle, mind wandering to you.

"Neteyam, good morning! You're here early today, is everything ok?" Norm had a big smile on his face and his predisposition brightened Neteyam's, who was suddenly happy to be able to spend a little one-on-one time with him.

"Everything's fine, just came to see her, but she's still sleeping."

Norm chuckles as he removes his gloves and throws them in a nearby yellow bin.

"Yeah, she was doing data analysis until late last night. She used my laptop, you can look at it if you want? We did some a timelapse of an immunofluorescent experiment and it's actually really cool to see. Just open my laptop and it should be there."

Neteyam did as he was told. When he opened the lid of the laptop, the image he saw stilled him on the spot, his hand still gripping the screen, almost unable to move or think, just feeling a tinge of raw curiosity, of unhindered temptation. Because on the screen were two humans. The woman was on all fours, head thrown so far back Neteyam was almost worried for her, eyes shut tightly and an almost pained expression on her face, although Neteyam doubted pain was anywhere near what she was feeling in the moment. The man was kneeled behind her, his cock sunk in her almost to the base, holding on to her long ponytail and pulling on it with one hand, the other hand tightly gripping her hip, imprints clearly visible on her skin.

The feelings this evoked in Neteyam were mixed and intense, from wonderment, to confusion, to deep, intense arousal, the blood quickly rushing from his brain to much lower down, and he felt the need to adjust his loincloth to ease some of the discomfort he was currently experiencing. What was this? Who were these people? He's never seen them before among the humans, and Eywa, was Neteyam glad to say that.

"Um... Norm, I don't think this is the experiment you wanted me to see."

Norm walked over to where Neteyam was sitting, mildly amused at Neteyam and his obvious lack of skill around technology. Neteyam almost jumped out of his skin at Norm's gasp and startled demeanour when he saw what Neteyam was looking at, and at how aggressively he was pushing the off button, trying to remove the image from his eyes, and his brain.

"Fuck... I... I'm so sorry, Neteyam. I -..." Neteyam watched dumbfounded as Norm turned on his heels and left, still wearing his labcoat and goggles, and he knew that if Norm were to have a tail, it'd definitely be in between his legs right now.

You were sprawled on the bed similarly to how you had been just a few hours ago, except right now you had the added weight of a almost 9 foot tall alien on top of you, a weight you'd never want to lose. He looked nervous about one thing or another, and you knew based on how his breath was increasing in speed that he was going to spill it soon enough.

"What is it, Teyam? Come on, out with it."

His cheeks turned a deep shade of purple as his eyes avoided yours.

"I saw something today, on Norm's laptop... something I don't think I was meant to see."

"Oh?" That definitely peaked your attention. What would anything on Norm's laptop make Neteyam so fidgety?

"It was... a man and a woman... they were... uhm... naked." Neteyam felt like his face was about to catch fire, and you cackled loudly, finding it hard to believe that Norm had porn on his laptop and was so careless about it.

"OH, MY GOD! I'M NEVER LETTING HIM LIVE THIS DOWN!"

"Wh-what.. was it?"

"Oh, yawne... it's called porn. It's... a video of people going at it."

Neteyam's confusion didn't lessen; quite the opposite, actually.

"But why?"

"Well, let's see, what did it make you feel?" Your raised eyebrow and knowing smirk was enough to make Neteyam's ears flatten in shame.

"Well...I -"

You chuckled. "There you go. That's why. It helps humans... release tension. If it's done well, it can be quite the experience."

"D-do you watch... porn?" the word felt weird and unfamiliar rolling off his tongue.

"Sometimes. But honestly, I think I'd prefer making porn."

Neteyam almost choked at your words, but couldn't help the way his cock twitched in his tewng, and how much his mind wandered at the image he saw and how much he wanted to see you in it, it in front of his eyes, there captured for eternity for him to enjoy... over and over again.

"You... want to... make porn?"

Your hips raised, brushing against his now rock hard-on, moaning a little at the way it relieved some of the pressure building up in your core.

"Only with you, yawne."

He kissed you passionately, ripping the buttons on your top as he undressed you, and made a mental note of yet another thing he should thank humans for.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Birthday Boy

————————————————————————-

Summary: December 10th, Joe’s 27th birthday spent with you and your twin boys.

Warnings: Fluff, *he's not injured!!*

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

December 10th, 2023

Joe had awoken in bed by himself this morning to his surprise. He had expected you, his wife, to be waking him with smooches all over his face but your side of the bed was empty.

He rolled over to grab his phone off his nightstand when the setup sitting on it made him smile. Every year since you and Joe got together in high school when you guys were 16 and 17, on Joe’s birthday you'd get him white roses. The number of them would be the age he was turning that day. There they were, 27 white roses in a vase.

Realizing there was a card and a gift bag propped up next to it, Joe leaned up in bed and picked up the card first.

Happy Birthday, Joey!

Gosh, how are you 27?! You're getting old babe. JKJK. I just wanted to tell you that I’m so happy to share another birthday with you, this is the 11th one that we've celebrated together and I hope I've made every year better than the last. 26 was such a year for you, and I'm proud to say I was by your side for all of it. Cheers to another year of getting to show you how much I love you. You're my husband, my rock, my happiness, my high school sweetheart, and most importantly my best friend. I love you more than words can explain, Joey Shiesty.

To my nerdy, quirky, antisocial, video game, Kid Cudi-obsessed boy, Happy 27th birthday.

Love, your y/n.

Joe didn't realize tears were streaming down his cheeks till he put the card down and saw a wet spot on the blanket on his lap. He quickly composed himself and grabbed the gift bag.

Pulling the contents out of the bag, he felt his eyes well up again when he realized it was a photo album.

It was white leather and on the front in gold font, it simply read “Us.”

Joe flipped to the first page and it had a song lyric quoted.

“When they wanna see how true love should be, they'll just look at us.”

Flipping the page again, it was a collage of pictures of you and him as high school lovebirds. A picture of him picking you up after a win while you were in your cheer uniform, one of you two sitting next to each other at lunch just smiling from ear to ear, you and him sitting in the back of one of his friend's truck while at a drive-in movie, a pic of you two at senior prom, and finally one of you guys graduating.

Joe flipped the page and wasn't at all surprised to see it was the Ohio State era of his life. Since Joe was a year older than you, you were stuck in Athens still when Joe was a freshman at OSU. Long distance sucked, but you guys made it work, and multiple pictures were showcasing that. You took screenshots of you and Joe's face timing that he had never seen before. There was a lovesick look in his eye that made Joe giggle knowing he's still just as infatuated with you. His favorite picture was the one of him lying on top of you in his dorm bed, you were running your fingers through his mullet as you cuddled him.

The LSU page made Joe’s heart warm, so many pictures of you standing to the side and smiling at him just so proud of everything he had accomplished during his time there. There was one slightly spicy photo that made Joe do a double take. That was the first photo you had ever sent him with the intention of turning him on. While Joe was out doing something with the team after winning the national championship you put nothing on but his letterman jacket and the “Big Dick Joe” that he had.

The next few pages only made Joe smile get bigger.

In order it was him getting drafted, the 2022 AFC Championship win + engagement, the wedding, finding out I was pregnant, the gender reveal, the boy's arrival, and everything in between.

When the last few pages were empty for more memories Joe shut the book and put it off to the side. He again had to compose himself and wipe his eyes after the emotional walk through memory lane, you guys had been through so much together and Joe couldn't a picture his life without you.

Joe was about to text you but as soon as he went to grab his phone you were walking into the bedroom. Truthfully you had been downstairs listening to him secretly through the baby monitor you had put up in the bedroom. You had heard him wrestle around in the sheets before sniffles were heard. After it went quiet for a bit you went upstairs and watched him through the cracked bedroom door as he wiped his eyes.

You walked towards the bed with a stack of pumpkin-flavored pancakes topped with candles singing Happy Birthday as Joe wore a huge grin.

After you were finished singing, Joe blew out the candles and you placed the plate on his lap.

“G’morning, Joey. Happy Birthday, my love. - you

He pulled you into a hug and squeezed you so tight.

“I love you so much, y/n.” - Joe

You rubbed his back and kissed him after you pulled away, his arms still around your waist.

“What did you wish for when you blew out your candles?” - you

“Can't tell you, you know it wouldn't come true if I did.” - Joe

“You're no fun.” - you

“I'm just kidding, baby. I actually didn't make a wish.” - joe

“What why? Did I not give you enough time to? I'm sor-” - you

“No. You gave me plenty of time. I just don't have anything to wish for. I have everything I could ever want or need so there's no need for me to wish for something. I have a beautiful amazing wife, perfect twin boys, a good career…” - Joe

You stared at him dumbfounded, wondering how you were ever able to bag this sweet man.

“You’re gonna make me cry.” - you sniffled

“C’mere.” - Joe opened his arms to you

Immediately in his embrace, Joe held the back of your head and kissed your temple.

“I've already cried twice.” - Joe giggled

“Awe Joey. Okay enough sappy stuff, you eat your birthday breakfast while I go clean the kitchen up.” - you pulled away from him and headed for the door when he stopped you

“Wait don't go! I'll help you clean later, can you stay with me right now?” - Joe

You smiled sweetly at him before waking back over to the bed and getting under the covers with him.

Joe turned on Spongebob and ate his pancakes, a few minutes in you heard little feet in the hallway before knocks on the door could be heard.

“Mommy? Daddy?” - Tyson

“You can come in, Ty!” - Joe

The twins happily opened the door and toddled over to the bed. You lifted them onto the bed and they sat with their backs against the footboard.

Tyson giggled as he jokingly got his hand under the covers and tickled Joe’s foot. Joe played along with it for a little bit, loving the sound of his son’s laugh before he started fighting back.

“Do you boys remember what today is?” - you

“Uhm… no momma.” - Miles

“It's someone's birthday!” - you

Tyson and Miles looked at each other for a second before they gasped at the same time and yelled out the answer in unison.

“Daddy’s!” - The twins yelled

“Mhm! Remember what you guys made yesterday?” - you

The boys nodded and you instructed them to go retrieve what they made from their room.

Joe gave you a skeptical raised eyebrow look, but you just leaned in and kissed him while you still had the chance.

It wasn't long till you could hear those little feet again and Tyson and Miles were running back into the bedroom. They handed Joe a few pieces of paper after he put his empty plate on his nightstand.

Tyson drew a picture of him, his daddy, and his uncles passing football at the practice fields.

Miles drew a picture of him and Joe playing with Hot Wheels tracks.

The drawings had Joe feeling a different form of bliss, his heart warmed to an insane level as he looked at the little details in his boys’ drawings.

“I love them, boys. Thank you.” - Joe croaked

“You welcome!” - Tyson beamed

“Dada? You sad?” - Miles

“No, Daddy’s really happy.” - Joe

“But you cryin'…” - Miles

“He’s crying happy tears buddy, really happy tears.” - Joe

“Oh… okay!” - Miles

“You guys should go play. Mommy and Daddy are gonna clean up before Gramps and Grammy come.” - you

When the boys left the room you turned to Joe who was still crying. You softly kissed his cheek and wiped his tears off of his cheeks.

“You okay, baby?” - you

“Never been better. This is the best feeling.” - Joe

“Good. They worked hard on those. Come follow me downstairs. I have something cool to show you.” - you

“You gonna give me my 27 birthday spankings? Or is that later?” - joe

You laughed as you pulled him out of bed and shoved him into the closet, asking without words for him to put clothes on since he was only in boxers.

He returned in sweatpants and a T-shirt and followed you downstairs.

“Is the cool thing you have to show me a sink full of dishes? Or do I have to unload the dishwasher?” - Joe

“You’re exempt from those chores today since you are the birthday boy. But no, I’m giving you one of your gifts now.” - you

Joe smiled and I told him to close his eyes as we started walking into the kitchen. He did as you said and you took his hands in yours to guide him to where the setup on the counter was. You smiled at the secret camera you had recording and dropped Joe’s hands.

Telling him to open his eyes, Joe looked around rather confused but when he looked down at the counter his eyes went as wide as saucers.

There was a positive Clearblue test next to the same onesie you showed Joe when you found out you were pregnant with the twins.

You watched Joe’s eyes start to water as his chin started quivering, causing your own eyes to get misty as you smiled at him.

“You’re pregnant?” - Joe grinned

“Mhm.” - you smiled as tears dripped down your face

Immediately his arms were around you, lifting you and spinning you around as he cried into your neck.

“We’re having another baby!” - Joe cried

When he put you down, Joe picked up the pregnancy test with shaky hands and fell against the counter with his head buried in his arms. He was so overcome with emotion.

“Are you happy?” - you rubbed his back

Joe stood up abruptly and nodded vigorously.

“I've never been so happy. What if we have a girl, y/n? I could be a girl dad.” - Joe cried again

“Oh baby.” - you pulled him into your arms

Joe hugged you so tight but was now trying not to put pressure on your stomach now that he was aware his baby was in there.

“I love you so much, y/n. You and our family are the best things to have ever happened to me. I can't believe we're having another baby.” - Joe

“I love you and our babies so much. I can't believe it either, I'm so excited.” - you

“How long have you known? Well about the baby?” - Joe

“Not too long, found out a couple of days ago and thought I'd wait till today.” - you

Joe nodded and leaned down to be level with your stomach. It hasn't gotten bigger yet but Joe didn't care, his baby was still in there.

“Hey, baby. It's your daddy. Me and your momma already love you so much. We can't wait to meet you.” - Joe

“I have an ultrasound next week. Think you can go?” - you

“For sure. I'll make it happen.” - Joe

The rest of the day Joe couldn't keep his hands off of you, always making sure you weren't farther than arm's length away from him.

Robin asked what was up later at dinner when you rejected your usual favorite wine that she and Jimmy had brought.

You and Joe were ecstatic to tell his parents about Baby Burrow #3 coming next fall and they were just as happy finding out about their next grandkid.

That night after dinner, dessert (pumpkin pie of course), and putting the boys to sleep, Joe and I were lying in bed talking about everything baby.

“y/n, you know, I've only been 27 for a day but I feel like it's going to be the best year yet.” - Joe

“You think so?” - you

“I know so because I’m gonna spend it with you, our boys, and baby Burrow.” - Joe

You had a strange feeling that Joe was right, but also an overwhelming feeling of love washed over you. How'd you get so lucky with Joe?

—————��——————————————————-

Authors note: happy bday Joey B!

there was a birthday imagine request in my messages so here you go!

hope you enjoyed! 💕

[thequeenofcupps]

VENTURE DATING HC’S

A/N: ok so I've literally have never had fanfics before so please bare with me, also I made the reader female implied but y’all can do any gender you want

CW: scars, insecurity

TW: SH scars mention

☆ Ok so you know that studio ghibli thing I said about them? yeah they’d probably keep you hostage so you guys would stay in and watch most of them. Oh you have to work or if you need to run errands? Sucks they haven’t seen you in a while and they’ve missed you :(

☆ After their expeditions they like to bring back rocks, crystals, or any cool thing they find and give them to you. Now you have 2 selves of things they’ve brought back :D

☆So I’ve seen people write/draw Sloan with tattoos and I’ve wanted to partake on this hc.

I feel like they’d like telling you stories behind their tattoos, like if they’re getting dressed and you ask about one they’d tell you about it but then they’d get carried away and start explaining ALL of their tattoos.

☆They.are.the.biggest.cuddlebug.everrrr. Like they’ll cuddle you anywhere and anytime. Cooking? Boom they're behind you hugging you, Folding laundry? Womp they’re laying on your thighs, laying down for a nap? Their ass is SPRINTING to cuddle with you, it doesn’t matter what their doing cuddles is a must have for them. They just love you so much :c

☆Also on my applying lipstick hc I made a couple days ago, yeah whenever you put on lipstick whether you work for Overwatch or you live with them or work with them for the Wayfinder Society you like to fluster them by just smooching them then leaving a very flustered Sloan with kiss marks on them.

☆They are VERY affectionate, like if they’re always texting you good night, kissing you on your lips, forehead, hand, etc. bear hugging you, slow dancing in the kitchen with them it really doesn’t matter if you don’t live with them yet or if you do live with them they’re so lovey dovey with you 💗

☆if they’re on a mission for overwatch or for the Wayfinder Society they’re sending you cute cat pictures saying cute shit like “you’re purrr-fect!” or a cat holding a heart and saying “I miss you and love u pookums :c” cuz you’re so far away for them but they still like to tell you that they love you

☆you’re so perfect to them It doesn’t matter if you have SH scars, stretch marks, thick thighs, plus-sized, hairy, acne, acne scars, if you chew nails, it doesn’t matter to them they love you so much and they reassure you that they will always love you no matter what you look like

(One more hc is when they first saw you careless whisper started playing in that slow motion montage and they had heart eyes)

A/N: I hope I did ok with these reminder it is my first time making an x reader fanfic of some sort so feel free to critique me 😚

Also I probably made a fuck ton of mistakes cuz my 15 yr old ass didn’t pay attention in language class

[satoruwiki]

Stripper gojo 😳😳 I can't help wonder if satoru would still be doing strip club after they start serious dating. I mean it's his job. Well just wanna hear what u have to say

mmm, i think he would stop at some point, but not because you ask him to. like, if you were to ask him to stop, he would ignore you because… that's how you met, you knew what he did for a living and still agreed to go for something serious with him anyway.

If i had to think of a scenario. it would go something like...

"Hey, baby?" Satoru spoke softly, there was something he had been thinking about for a while but he didn't know how to tell you. You took your eyes off the TV and noticed his frown, he looked thoughtful and that worried you. it wasn't usual to see him like that.

"Is something wrong?" you asked doubtfully, shifting your seat to have a better look of his face.

Satoru rested his gaze on your hands, taking one of them gently and caressing your knuckles with his thumb. "You know, I've been thinking for a while now…" he hesitated, you guessed it was something that was very important to him because of how difficult it was for him to tell you outright. Such mystery made you uneasy, but you didn't want to rush him into telling you what was on his mind.

"I'm going to leave the club."

You raised your eyebrows in astonishment, you didn't think he was ever going to say that, it was even more likely for you that he would break up with you than quit his job of so many years.

"Are you sure? I mean, you love working there…" you didn't know how long the idea had been in his head, as he was never vocal about it. To say that his sudden decision took you by surprise was an understatement.

"yeah, but I don´t know, I've never seen myself working there for a long period. could you imagine? an old and wrinkly me killing it on stage," satoru chuckled, shifting his gaze back to you, a glint of mischief and truth in them, "besides, i don't feel comfortable doing all that sexy stuff to some girl i don't know when my lady is waitin' for me at home," he added, leaning to nuzzle onto your neck, dropping soft and teasing kisses on your skin.

you giggled at the ticklish sensation of his lips on you, lolling your head to a side to give him more space to cover you in smooches. "and what's the next step? i mean, what are you going to work as?"

"as a teacher," he formulates without ceasing to tease your neck, his not at all subtle hands sliding under your shirt.

"like actually or is it still a lie?"

"like actually, i have a degree in education."

"huh?!" you gasped, "oh my god, 'toru! you never told me that!"

"to lie you need to tell a part of the truth, silly girl. now lemme teach you something y're gonna like..."

[normal-internet-user]

My first time asking but, when you will have time will all the ask will you be able to do a TMNT 2012 x male reader who is taller and stronger them them? If the male reader is hard to do it can be changed to female reader, i just haven't seen a lot of male reader fanfics

And btw great work, I've been banging your fanfics for like the whole day today. I guess a fan from Romania here <3<3

LITERALLY SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS REQUEST, and of course I can do male reader! No issues there! 😭- Tysm I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! <3

2012 BOYS WITH A MALE S/O WHO'S STRONGER THAN THEM:

....................................

Raph:

We all know Raph loves a partner who's bigger and stronger than him.

He likes when you hold him when you're cuddling.

(Total little spoon energy)

Definitly stares at you when you work out, totally not obvious about it.

Like at all. *She said sarcastically*

If you ever need to like carry him to safety or something?

He is a mess holy crap.

Literally forgets how to function.

He likes training with you.

Mikey:

He's a talker, so he's very vocal about how awesome he thinks you are.

Pick up something heavy?

Mikey's in absolute awe.

Casually lift him out of the way of something?

You may as well be a god.

He definitly asks you to carry him around with zero shame.

He makes your height difference seem much more dramatic than it really is.

i.e grabbing like a stool or something to give you a smooch.

Leo:

Oh he's a fucking disaster holy shit.

If you do even anything that remotely requires your strength, you'd think you proposed or something.

He gets all red and blushy and avoids eye contact.

Also likes to be held during cuddle time.

He's stressed ok? Give my mans his cuddles.

Casually asks for your help with little things like moving that or grabbing this.

If you ever pick him up, he'll quite literally forget how to function.

Any and all knowledge about exsisting just flies out of his head.

Donnie:

He has you help him around the lab moving heavy equiptment, putting things away or grabbing high objects etc.

Even if you're a constant presence in his lab, whenever you move something heavy effortlessly he is a mess-

Please do not tease him about it, he will probably perish.

Like's to lay ontop of your chest with your arms around him when you cuddle.

Makes him feel all safe and warm.

If he refuses to leave his lab just pick him up, wtf is he gonna do about it?

As his boyfriend, you have every right to physically remove him from his work for bedtime.

....................................

Once again I am SO sorry for the delay with requests, writers block hit me like a sack of bricks-

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 6)

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome to the sixth installment of this little series of mine! Thank you all again for likes and shares on the previous parts. You all continue to blow me away with your support for this project of mine. Once again, smooches and squeezy-hugs to you all! But only if you want them.

As a quick heads up, we're entering into the "December 2012" era of fics, so you might start seeing a bit of a Christmas theme going on for a for a little bit. Generally, I don't prefer Christmas fics myself, but I'm a sucker for kid and pack fics (you may have already been able to tell), and those tropes tend to work well in a Christmas setting. Consider yourselves warned!

Okay, that's all from me for now. Ta-ta!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

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Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul by fadedhues (NR | 1/1 | 1,259)

“My name is Death,” he sings softly, and it’s fucking pretty, like he’s singing a lullaby to the winter sky, “and the end is here.”

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must be a devil between us by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 2,081)

"What? Why would-- Derek, why would your daemon encourage mine to touch you?" Stiles fakes calm well, but his heart gives him away.

"Because Luminera is a deviant." He shrugs. He accepted Luminera's reckless behavior years ago.

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souls of mischief by hoars (M | 2/2 | 2,695)

Stiles’ first memory of his mom is green.

Her green eyes, her green dresses, her green scarves, her green blouses and her green barrettes.

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with the darkness fed by Rena (NR | 1/1 | 2,835)

It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

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What Could Have Been by thingcalledlove (G | 1/1 | 2,971)

The camera zooms in on the face of a very beautiful woman who looks vaguely familiar.

“Who’s the babe?” Stiles jokes, turning to look over at Derek.

“My mom,” Derek replies with a glare.

“Oh, shit, dude, I’m sor—” Stiles breaks off his apology as his eyes drift back towards the screen. Beside Mrs. Hale is another familiar face. One he hasn’t seen in a long time. His mother.

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I Don't Want To Be Saved by Lapin (M | 1/1 | 3,132)

And everyone, everyone has their own ideas about this relationship, they all say the same things, they all do. "He's not good for you," "It's Derek," "This is the fourth night in a row," "What kind of asshole dates a high schooler?" "I'm not okay with this."

But Stiles pulls the red hood up, wanders from the path, and he's picking flowers, and he's breathing, "My, what big teeth you have," and Derek bares his fangs, and yeah. Fuck them.

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Will Wonders Never Cease by thecheekydragon (T | 1/1 | 3,632)

Sheriff Stilinski wonders how Derek Hale fits into his working theory of a gigantic, two-ton pissed off moose shot-putting his son’s jeep.

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Practically Perfect by betp (NR | 1/1 | 3,688)

WE NEED A NANNY PROBALLY. Reqirments: - eyes light up - wants to go places - can travel between dimentions - likes cheesebergers - a wear wolf - lisens to good music - SUPER STRONG - favorit color is pink - has friends who can fly - will merry our Dad

There is a stick figure drawing of a werewolf with red eyes and bared teeth, marrying Stiles on a cloud.

Or, "The one that has next to nothing to do with the kids." This is a straight-up unapologetic Mary Poppins AU.

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Laura is Badass by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 5,079)

Laura's not expecting two teenage boys to burst into the bakery, brandishing lacrosse sticks yelling about “Kidnap!” and “Pedobears!” and “Sex slaves are illegal!”

She’s flabbergasted.

“Cupcake?” Derek offers.

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When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear by owlpostagain (T | 1/1 | 7,817)

There are some salvageable things though. A virtually untouched heavy slate sign that says, engraved in an ornate script that confirms at least one person in the Hale family had a sense of humor (Stiles has a horrible suspicion it might have been Peter), When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear.

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Beltane by DevilDoll (E | 1/1 | 8,254)

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

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Your Words Are Robbery by dedougal (E | 1/1 | 12,127)

When Stiles is dragged back to Beacon Hills, he has to face everything he left behind.

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cool story, bro by drunktuesdays (E | 1/1 | 13,087)

Based on a truly ridiculous conversation with Kalpurna about a hypothetical Stilinski Twins situation that ended up sounding something like:

“FUUUUUUCK, is it a sweet valley high situation where Stiles is very aware that his twin is way more attractive and confident than he is, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE IDENTICAL, and he always ends up with the hotter significant others and more friends and Stiles guesses that's why he's attracted to the pack at first, because it's something that's just his, not his twin's too. But of course, Stiles's twin gets bit and now he's part of Derek's pack, and Derek doesn't snap at him like he snaps at Stiles, never slams him into things, fucking FIGURES, STILES'S TWIN GETS EVERYTHIIIIIIIING.”

Kalpurna/good ideas OTP.

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Stay. by paradis (E | 1/1 | 15,537)

He leaves because the press of Derek’s lips and the sting of his teeth against Stiles’ neck are still burning his skin, and he can’t stop touching them, but then he remembers Derek telling him he’s not pack, he never was, and that he doesn’t belong here.

He leaves because Lydia asks him too, but he doesn’t go back to Beacon Hills because no one asked him to come back.

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What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin (E | 1/1 | 17,422)

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son.

“Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”

Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off.

“God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...”

“Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

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Home by cofeeinallcaps (E | 1/1 | 18,464)

Derek has bought a beautiful house. Stiles can't stay away. (In which everyone hangs out at Derek's place all the time and Stiles tries but fails not to fall for a certain socially inept alpha.)

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Assistant to the Consulting Detectives by idyll (T | 9/9 | 18,674)

Stiles is going to NYU and ends up working for Sherlock and Joan.

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Metamorphsis by happyevraftr (E | 1/1 | 20,755)

Life isn’t easy for Stiles Stilinski. This is a truth he’d come to accept a long time ago, so it’s no surprise when an enemy pack shows up in town with a mysterious Alpha that’s hell bent on revenge. Things escalate quickly when Erica goes missing and Isaac is attacked by the new pack. As if that isn’t enough to handle, Stiles own body begins to betray him and he must decide whether to die as a human, or live as a werewolf.

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The Birthday Fic by seussian (E | 1/1 | 21,066)

It's Derek's 30th birthday, and Erica and Boyd have been kidnapped. Again.

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Tutor!Verse series by betp (10 works | NR-M | 41,579)

They meet when Derek is seventeen and hates history almost as much as he hates his ex, Kate, and Stiles is sixteen and taking junior-level history classes. Then they fall in love and do dates on each other and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. By which I mean Sterek fic!

1. Not Another Sterek Romance (It Is Absolutely Another Sterek Romance) (T | 1/1 | 2,405) In which Derek is the worst at history and Stiles wears glasses. 2. Boys, Interrupted (NR | 1/1 | 1,329) "I am the result of your academic ennui," Stiles summarises. 3. Jeepin' (M | 1/1 | 1,368) Stiles warns Derek four days in advance, resulting in Derek unable to concentrate in any of his classes that Friday, because all he can think about is his impending gay deflowering, which--jesus fucking christ. 4. Peer Pressure (T | 1/1 | 1,615) "Can't even answer a simple question, he's too good for that. I hope he knows what we do to kids who are too good to talk to us." 5. Golden (NR | 1/1 | 947) "It's like a recipe for a summer romance movie from the 80s." 6. Catch Me a Catch (NR | 1/1 | 1,828) In which Allison will never understand Stiles' sense of humour, Scott will never understand what Stiles sees in Derek, and Derek wonders what he would spend his free time doing if he'd never met Stiles. (The answer is CoD and literally nothing else.) 7. Education (NR | 1/1 | 2,990) "I'll try anything once." He pauses. "With you. Only with you."

In which Stiles and Derek have been dating for three years, and Derek decides to try something new. 8. Viridian (NR | 1/1 | 5,967) "Dude, forget Stiles." 9. Biological Imperative (NR | 1/1 | 2,206) "I want to have children with you someday," Derek interjects firmly. "Not that I know why I seem to think that would be a good idea." Tin here. Just wanted to pop in and say that this part (part 9) is the conclusion to this series as the next part is a WIP reboot of the series.

10. i brought my pencil (NR | 3/? | 20,924) Your typical, classic nerd/jock au, but with a shittier attitude. (A reboot of this series. Sorry guys.)

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[helloheyhihowdyheya]

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

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

inspired by @alastcrs's chaggie comic, a sequel of sorts XD

Vaggie: "Sweetie, tell me you didn't give Sir Pentious dating advice."

Charlie: "No? I didn't?"

Vaggie: "Then babe what did you do?"

Charlie: "I just showed you off a little~"

Vaggie: (groaning) "The picture thing? The, have you seen my girlfriend joke? Again?"

Charlie: "Yep! Why?"

Vaggie: "We have to go save Pentious from Cherri Bomb."

Charlie: "Why would we need to- oh no. Oh, noooo-"

Vaggie: "Oh fucking yes."

-elsewhere and in danger-

Sir Pentious: (at random sinner) "Have you sssseen Miss Cherri Bomb~? Ssshe-"

Cherri Bomb: "DUDE WHATE THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?"

Sir Pentious: "-ah, I am, apprecsssiating you-?"

Cherri Bomb: "BY HELPING THE BOUNTRY HUNTERS FIND ME???"

Sir Pentious: "What- no! No I only, I wassss merely-"

Cherri Bomb: "THAT'S MY WANTED POSTER, DICK HEAD!"

Sir Pentious: "Well. Ah. Yesss."

Cherri Bomb: "GIVE IT HERE SO I CAN BURN IT"

Sir Pentious: (clutching wanted poster to chest) "Pleassse Cherri, noooo! It issssss, the only quality photo of you that I possessss-!"

Cherri Bomb: "Then just ASK me for another one like a normal person! Or stalk me like a normal creep! ANYTHING THAT DOESN'T END WITH WITH ME STUFFED AND MOUNTED ON SOME OVERLORD'S FUCKING WALL!!! Like, fuck- do you KNOW how much important shit I've blown up???"

Sir Pentious: "Oh yessss! You are very accomplissshed!" (beaming) "The weaponsss casssche last from year was essspecssially beautiful! All thossse, ssssecondary explosionssss...~"

Cherri Bomb: "YOU'RE gonna be a secondary explosion if you don't hand that poster over Right Now."

Sir Pentious: "Erm, before I do ssso... might I humbly requessst a replasscement photo of-"

Cherri Bomb: "No." (lights fuse) "Let go or go sky high with it."

Sir Pentious: "AH-!"

Charlie: (running) "Pen!" (skids to stop and grabs vaggie) "Holy shit that's a bomb- PEN JUST LET IT GO!!!"

Vaggie: "Pentious drop and take cover! It's not worth it!"

Sir Pentious: "But- sssshe ISSS worth-"

Cherri Bomb: "Bye bitch." (tosses bomb) (Runs)

Sir Pentious: "Ah, ssh-"

KABLOOMY

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: "......"

Vaggie: "...we're gonna add self-worth sessions and healthy relationship boundary workshops to the hotel activities list, yeah?"

Charlie: "Oh yes. Definitely."

(splat) (splatter) (Splotch)

Charlie: "After, um, after Pen's collected himself a bit."

Vaggie: "Yeah... Maybe hold back on the 'i love my girlfriend' jokes around him too?"

Charlie: "....I'll." (pained grimace) "Try."

Vaggie: "All I ask, babe." (smooches her cheek) "C'mon. Let's gather up our snake man and head home."

Charlie: (sighs) "It would've worked if he'd just had a better picture-"

Vaggie: "Charlie."

Charlie: "They're cute together! He's all over her- it's adorable!"

Vaggie: "He's all over the street right now."

Charlie: "She used one of her better bombs on him this time." (picks up an arm and part of pentious's tail) "That has to mean something, right??"

Vaggie: "More work for us."

Charlie: "Hmm~ I bet you they kiss before the next extermination~"

Vaggie: "Sweetie." (grabs other arm and the torso) "If they kiss before one of them DIES I'll count it as your win."

Charlie: "No other time limit?"

Vaggie: "None."

Charlie: "And the prize if I win...?"

Vaggie: "Extra kisses. And I'll join your Cherri x Pentious group chat."

Charlie: "DEAL!"

Vaggie & Charlie: (shake pentious's hands over it)

-one kiss and death later-

>user (SpearOfSappho) has joined group BOMBSIRWAY FOREVR!!!

SpearOfSappho: hey

cute'n'cuddlycapricorn: ;-;

SpearOfSappho: charlie im so sorry

SpearOfSappho: would the extra kisses help?

cute'n'cuddlycapricorn: ! THEY KISSED AND NO ONE EVEN TOOK ANY PICS OF IT!!!!

SpearOfSappho: oh

cute'n'cuddlycapricorn: ANGEL x DEMON EMEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS SLOW BURN STAR CROSSED ROMANCE 100k LETS FUCKING GOOOOO!!!!!!!!