#So Peter is quite content with the dance...

[aureliqs]

confessions in the common room

pairing: Remus Lupin x female reader

content:

Pure fluff

The school year is nearing its end and the finals are coming closer every day. You and your dear friend Remus are once again studying in the common room late at night during the week, while the other marauders are deeply asleep. Both of you can’t deny the built up tension, that has steadily increased, especially since you two always end up studying just with eachothers company

“I hate transfiguration class” y/n exclaimed as she let her head fall in her hands. Remus, who sat opposite to y/n, let out a long sigh, looked up at her, and just breathed an “yes this class in killing me”. As Remus looked at her, he wanted nothing more than to quit studying. Her beautiful eyes, her lips, her hair, just everything. Spending time with her and meanwhile admiring her is one thing. Trying to focus on studying while being near her another. Remus mustered himself up to continue reading, and silence filled the common room for a quite a time after, since neither of them knew what to say next. Both of their heads were racing with thoughts about how to get through the transfiguration finals.

Y/n was overwhelmed, and her mood was logically quit low. After heaping her head out of her hands she looked at a frustrated Remus frowning into his text book, desperately trying to understand its contents. Y/n hated seeing Remus like that.

Even then, Remmy, as she often calls him, looked beautiful. Brown fluffy hair, teddy eyes with an even darker shade of brown and the sweetest smile one could imagine. Usually, that is. She missed seeing him smile as often as he did before. The last weeks really took the life out of both of them. Sirius, James and Peter all cared equally less about studying as long as they passed. But y/n and Remus hat different ambitions. Ambitions worth suffering for they supposed. Still, they couldn’t wait for it to end, because nearly every evening ended with both of them studying late at night.

Studying and a silence, that was killing y/n. She needed a break. A conversation with Remus would hopefully lift her spirit.

“Remus” y/n whispered, to which Remus just murmured an absent “yes, what is it”.

“Cant we just drop everything and let fate decide our destiny” y/n vented. “I miss normally spending time with you so much”.

After y/n realised what she just said, a slight blush began to form on her cheeks. Did she really just said she misses his company. They do spend a lot of time together, be it with friends or just the two of them, but neither of them ever spoke about it. Y/n became a natural part of the marauders, since she accidentally found out about Remus werewolf secret early in their friendship, after she saw the boys trying to patch him up.

It might not seem like a big deal to other people, but for y/n it basically just felt like a love confession. All the times they’ve catched the other one just looking a bit too long, all of the meeting glances, the accidental touches of their hands, where both of them quickly pull away and apologise, despite wishing it continued. Both of them danced around it for so long, trying to ignore it.

Even the other marauders noticed, often times raising an eyebrow, smirking, but otherwise brushing it off and leaving it up to them to not get involved. It would happen eventually they thought.

Remus heart skipped a beat for a second. Y/n misses me he thought to himself. As y/n tried to look down in the textbook to not meet his eyes, Remus was looking at her, trying to muster up his courage. This is his chance. He can’t miss it. Not now. Y/n has been driving him crazy with everything. Her laugh, her witty remarks, the way she frowns when she looks in her textbooks, which he has been seeing fairly often lately, just everything.

“I…I’ve been missing you too” Remus declared, mustering up the courage to look at her. As y/n looked up at him, she understood that he meant it exactly the way she has meant it. She just didn’t know what to say now. Y/n was absolutely dumbstruck and the blushing was once again creeping up on her face.

Remus swallowed. This was it, all or nothing. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while now.” Y/n looked at him with her eyes wide open and just slightly nodded, as no sound would leave her throat.

“I like you…I mean I really like you, like romantically” Remus stiffened as he noticed he was messing it up. Y/n realised what was happening, but was still too dumbstruck to speak. Remus didn’t notice as he was to busy with his own hang up at the moment.

“Uuuum, no, well actually. Wait! Let me start again.” The fluffy haired boy stopped himself, took a deep breath and began again”

“I’ve had feelings for a while now, and I just want to ask you if you would go on a date with me. I think you’re so sweet, and funny and… just beautiful” he exclaimed. Remus words hung in the air, tensing everything up.

Y/n came to her senses again. Hesitant at first, she proclaimed “I … I would really love that.”

“Phewww” Remus began to chuckle. “I’ve been so scared about ruining our friendship right here and now. I didn’t want to screw our friendship”

Y/n slightly grinned at him, and just added an “I’ve been so scared too”. All of the tension felt like it was blown away, and the room eased up. They were both just slightly smiling at eachother, both being a bit red on the cheeks.

Y/n chuckled and said “I can really look forward to something now, to get through these horrible finals”, to which Remus just replied a “yeah, to best thing I could imagine”

A slight yawn creeped up on y/n, and Remus realised it would be better to just end the night and get some rest. “Y/n, maybe we should get some sleep”. Y/n followed up with another yawn, and cooed a little “yes, we should”

They were quickly finished with packing up their textbooks, parchment and quills. As y/n was about to head upstairs to her dorm, she turned to Remus and said “I can’t wait for our date. You’re really sweet. Good night Remmy”

Remus replied with a “I can’t wait either, good night to you too”, but before Remus could leave y/n hugged him. It was their first hug, and it felt so intimate. The way her hands wrapped around his waist, and how her hair smelled like vanilla and honey. Y/n felt so close because she was. For Remus it is a dream come true. Just as y/n pulls away, Remus comes back to his senses. Y/n is about to head to hear dorm, already being on the steps and he just sees hair leave for the night.

Remus stood there for a few seconds longer before heading upstairs and getting ready for bed. As he was laying in bed, he had a hard time falling asleep. All he could think about was what will happen in his near future, and Remus couldn’t help himself from grinning to himself. Little did he know, y/n was doing the exact same thing right now too.

I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave me some feedback,prompts and request <3

[kingstarkingslay]

DOMESTIC FULL MOONS ( vol.2 )

The full moon bathed the Forbidden Forest in a soft, silvery glow, casting an otherworldly light over the clearing where the Marauders gathered. The night was tranquil, the usual chaos of Remus’ transformation softened by the moon’s gentle embrace. Remus, now Moony, lay comfortably on the grass, his fur a delicate shade of silver that shimmered under the moonlight.

Sirius, in his animagus form as a large black dog named Padfoot, was by his side. His eyes, always brimming with mischief and affection, were now focused entirely on Moony. Padfoot had a plan tonight: he wanted to make the full moon even more special for his beloved Moony.

James , in his stag form Prongs, stood guard with a regal air, his antlers casting long shadows that danced across the ground. Peter, small and often underestimated, darted around the clearing in his rat form Wormtail, adding an extra layer of protection and cheerfulness to the night.

Padfoot’s plan was simple but heartfelt. He had been collecting various items from the forest, each one carefully chosen to impress Moony. With a wag of his tail and an excited bark, Padfoot nudged a pile of leaves aside, revealing his first gift: a vibrant, multicolored feather that glowed subtly in the moonlight. He dropped it gently in front of Moony, his eyes shining with anticipation.

Moony tilted his head, his wolfish eyes softening as he sniffed the feather, recognizing the thoughtful gesture. He gave a low, appreciative growl, nuzzling Padfoot’s muzzle in thanks. The feather was a symbol of Padfoot’s affection, and Moony’s response was filled with warmth.

Padfoot’s enthusiasm was far from over. He scampered off into the forest and soon returned with a small, sparkling stone that seemed to capture the moonlight itself. He placed it next to the feather with a proud bark. The stone’s luminescence was mesmerizing, reflecting the love and care Padfoot had put into finding it.

Prongs and Wormtail watched with amused smiles, their hearts warmed by the display of affection. Wormtail , ever the supportive friend, scurried over to Padfoot, offering a tiny nut he had found, which he placed beside the gifts with a squeak of encouragement.

As the night wore on, Padfoot continued his gift-giving spree. He brought back a bundle of delicate flowers, their petals soft and fragrant, which he arranged around Moony with a flourish. Each gift was presented with a flourish and a playful nudge, Padfoot clearly enjoying the attention and the chance to make Moony smile.

Moony, now more comfortable and content, began to playfully bat at the flowers with his paws, his tail wagging in response to Padfoot’s excitement. The connection between them was palpable, a silent exchange of love and affection.

As the night progressed, the Marauders gathered together, the gifts now forming a colorful array around them. Remus, his wolf form having settled into a peaceful rest, lay surrounded by the tokens of Padfoot’s love. Padfoot sat close by, his paw resting on Moony’s fur, his gaze filled with tenderness.

The clearing was filled with a serene, unspoken understanding. The Marauders, with their unique bond and mutual respect, shared a quiet moment of companionship. They knew that despite the challenges they faced, their friendship was a constant source of strength and comfort.

As the first light of dawn began to creep into the forest, the Marauders prepared to leave the clearing, their hearts light and their spirits high.

James, shifting back to his human form and offering a warm smile, approached the pair. “Looks like you had quite the night, Sirius,” he said, his tone filled with pride. “Moony seemed to be enjoying your gifts.”

Sirius, panting happily and now in his human form as well, grinned. “I just wanted to make tonight special for him. He’s been through so much, and if I can bring him a bit of joy, it’s worth every bit of effort.”

Peter, also back in his human form, joined the group, his eyes twinkling with delight. “You’ve done a great job, Sirius. Remus looks happier than I’ve ever seen him after a transformation.”

Remus, now fully transformed back into his human self, offered a grateful smile to Sirius, his eyes reflecting the deep bond they shared. “Thank you,” Remus said softly, his voice filled with emotion. “Tonight was perfect.”

Sirius squeezed Remus’s hand gently. “Anything for you, Moony. You mean everything to me.”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Afterglow

"Just wanna lift you up and not let you go, this ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight..."

Part of Inspired by Taylor Swift Series 'You're Losing Me' Chapter List

"I just can't believe they're going to be married in two days," you wistfully sigh, tossing your jacket onto the couch.

There was nothing quite like a wedding rehearsal dinner to put you in a particularly wistful, romantic mood. It also didn’t hurt that you and Bucky had fallen back together so perfectly over the last few months. It all seemed to fall into place. "They're perfect for each other."

"They seem really happy," Bucky agrees, smiling at the lightness in your face. 

You warmly smile back at him, "Yeah, they do."

"It was a beautiful night," Bucky continues. He ambles into the living room, following in your footsteps. “Makes you wonder, you know?”

Bucky’s not quite sure that you heard him. You’re sort of lost in your own bubble of romanticism. He hasn’t seen this side of you in quite some time, so he’s content to just watch you twirl around the room. He smiles at the way your dress swishes around you. He’s not quite sure if the flush on your cheeks is the alcohol in your system or just the thrill of the night. 

There's something about this night. Something that he can't quite put his finger on. He just doesn't want to end. It's like he wants to stay in these twenty seconds or live out the next twenty years with you in this very moment. He'll take either. Twenty seconds or twenty years. He doesn't just want this night, he wants them all.

His heart flutters, he can't remember the last time that happened. He walks over to his bookshelf, the that you almost burned down on one of your first dates together. He drops the needle and plays one of his records. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the sound of music suddenly filling the room, gasping when Bucky’s arms suddenly wraps around your waist, "What are you doing?"

"I just wanted to dance with you. Is that okay?"

You chortle at him, looking up at him. It's in that moment that Bucky sees it. It's back, that glimmer of hope, of love. It's back. You nod, resting your head on his chest, "I always want to dance with you."

His heart flutters again. He keens at the feeling of you back in his arms. It’s been six months of you back in his arms, but he never lets himself forget how lucky he is. In that moment, he knows he'll truly never get enough of you. "I really liked what Vision said, you know? About letting life surprise you with what it gives you."

"He is oddly poignant," you agree.

"Made me think of us."

You lift your head off his chest, looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow, "Really?"

"He said something like that when we were..." he trails off. It wasn't one of his finest moments in life, and he tried not to relive it as much as possible. To this day, he couldn't believe he almost burned down everything you had out of his own fear. It almost makes him feel sick thinking about the night he asked you to stay, to give him one more chance. He very well knows that it could’ve gone either way. "Well, you know."

Your head tilts to the side with an amused smirk, "You talked to Vision about us?"

"Yeah," Bucky anxiously chuckles. "I didn’t really have a choice, everyone just about slapped me upside my head. Well, Steve actually did. But anyway, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was being an idiot, which wasn't that uncommon of a sentiment."

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth, "Vision called you an idiot?" 

"Vision, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Tony, Clint, even Peter. And honestly, I don't disagree."

Almost six months had passed since your brief separation. Six months had passed since he asked you to stay.

And stay, you did.

You talked that entire night, talked about how you could fix what was clearly broken.

You talked about everything, the future you wanted, the future he wanted. You agreed that Bucky would go back to therapy. You talked about the team and Bucky’s work. There was so much left uncertain at the end of the night, but you had one very solid conclusion: that you would both try. And in the months since then, things were settling fairly well. Bucky didn’t wake up screaming in the middle of the night. He could envision a future that was brighter than the past. Your house felt like a home again. Light poured in once more. The silence was replaced with music. You finally danced with Bucky again. 

Things were looking up. It all seemed brighter now. 

Bucky finally stepped into the daylight. 

"You don't?" you question.

"Well, I was being an idiot, and it almost cost me the best thing that has ever happened to me." You remain silent, a blush creeping up your face as Bucky continues talking, "You know that, right? You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, I love you, more than I ever thought possible."

"I love you too." You rest your head back against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. It adds something to the moment. In this moment, it is you and him. He is all you see, all you care to hear. He is the only touch that has ever ignited hope within you. In this moment, everything is right. Everything is perfect. "And I'm glad we found our way back to each other."

"Me too." Just over your head, he looks at that bookcase. The one from your second date. What you didn't know was on a shelf just out of your reach, tucked in the corner, sat his mother's ring. He smiles to himself. He's sure in that moment that his heart will never be as full as it is in this moment. "I'm happy here. I want to be happy, to make you happy. I want us to be happy together."

What he didn't tell you was the he could see it all in his head. He could envision it like he'd live through it time and time again. He could see the home you'd build together. He could see the family you'd one day have. He could see you walking down the aisle to him.

He'd have the next twenty years, but until then, he'd have these twenty seconds to tide him over. 

--

Author's note: So... um... I've got a surprise for you guys. I couldn't actually decide what ending to go with. Sad? How unpredictable for me (That was sarcasm.) Happy? (I've always loved a happy ending, but I can acknowledge that they are not always the most realistic. So why not write both?

So here we are, dear readers, if you want to keep this image of a perfect, fluffy, happy ending, stop here. If not, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Alternate Ending! AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

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[eupheme]

MOVIE/TV - 2023 FIC RECS

this year has been filled with so many beautiful fics, I wanted to make a rec list to share & support everything I read. please check these out and support these creators, they are all incredible! 💖✨

ALFRED PENNYWORTH X F!READER

— Dance With Me by @tarrenterror25

You and Alfred move things to a more private area.

— On Display by @viceofdionysus

When Alfred finds you getting carried away on a video call, he asks you to put on a show for him.

— The Gentleman by @stargirlfics

Two chance encounters turn into something quite unexpected the longer you spend around a certain Englishman

— Thoughts No One Asked For But My Mind Had No Mouth And Must Scream by @/tarrenterror

Alfred Pennyworth x Vampire!F!Reader

— When the Night is Over by @/tarrenterror

After the flood, Dulce looks to do her part to help Gotham heal and hopes to bring change to the city.

— When We Met, I Felt My Life Begin by @/tarrenterror

You and Alfred are both trying to organize a special Valentine’s day for each other, but nothing seems to be going quite right! Luckily, young master Bruce is around to help you two get everything in order!

BRUCE WAYNE X F!READER

— Iron by @/stargirlfics

 Battinson + pussy eating

BUCKY BARNES X F!READER

— Anamnesis by @fluffyprettykitty

Transforming to a werewolf for what seems to be the first time with a familiar yet strange man by your side.

CAPRICORN X F!READER

— Take Me Home by @/tarrenterror

You are the second eldest daughter to the Adderhead and not yet married off by some miracle. This leaves room for a budding romance with a certain fire-raiser. The two of you must keep it secret lest your tyrant of a father find out.

DAVID ROBEY X F!READER

— The Devil Makes Us Sin by @tarabyte3

Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and at least it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content. At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

DRUIG X F!READER

— Calling by @redheadspark

You and Druig were meant to be together, and Druig gives you a place to call home because of that.

FRANK CASTLE X F!READER

— Saturday by @/fluffyprettykitty

Instantiable night session with Frank.

JAVI G X GN! READER

— Creation of the Heart by @0celesteisthebest0

Javi comforting you with bouts of insecurity

JAVIER PEÑA X F!READER

— Little Black Dress by @inklore

“you know how good you look in this dress? can’t fuckin’ concentrate on anything but bending you over and ruining it with my come.“ or the one where javi fingers you against a desk at a work conference.

JIM HOPPER X F!READER

— Heatwave by @/viceofdionysus

When Hawkins loses power during a heatwave, Jim does the neighborly thing and invites the pretty librarian out to his cabin on a private lake. But as they try to cool down, things only seem to heat up between them.

MARCUS MORENO X F!READER

— The Dinner by @frannyzooey

Missy invites you home for the weekend, unaware that you’ve actually been sleeping with her father since the semester started.

MATT MURDOCK X F!READER

— Cadence by @she-likesorchids

You're a barista living in New York, but you create erotic audios and sell subscriptions to make extra money. Matt has found a new outlet for his sexual frustration, and it's your voice. What happens when a chance meeting at your coffee shop threatens to blow both of your covers?

OBERYN MARTELL X F!READER

— Breath of Life by @/moonlight-prose

punctured by the arrow of cupid, oberyn is suddenly infatuated with you. you…the very breath in his lungs, the clouds in his sky, the reason the sun shone down on his home. he was in love and yet you couldn’t have felt more different.

PERO TOVAR X F!READER

— Menuet by @psychedelic-ink

you decide to take a swim in a lake that is deep in the middle of the forest. during your swim, pero finds you, and he’s not happy that you went out alone during a full moon.

PETER PARKER X F!READER

— Approach Shift by @psithurista

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

— Dial Tones by @spiderispunk

Peter gets a much-needed distraction after studying all night.

— Fragments of Tomorrow by @/psychedelic-ink

After a massive ecological disaster, the world is overrun by mutated flora and fauna, along with infected humans that sprout vines and flowers. Nature itself has turned against humanity, and you thought Peter would be by your side. That Spider-Man would protect you and those close to you—you never thought you’d be wrong in both aspects. But now he’s back, and you don’t know how to react.

SANTA (HARBOUR) CLAUS X F!READER

— All is Bright by @lavenderursa

Your husband has a rather bad yet exciting day at work which leads to an unexpected reunion and a much needed reminder of the Christmas spirit.

—Joyful Night by @cinewhore

You comfort your husband after his Christmas night run. 

SER BARRISTAN SELMY X F!READER

— Sometimes, Love is not Enough. by @sermormonts

Your knight of the Kingsguard: sworn to celibacy since he took the whitecloak at age three and twenty, bursting to prove all he knows of passion: not from song or script writ in stained pages, but from the glassy, heady ache you’ve etched into his chest—a heart kept dormant for decades.

STEPHEN GRANT X F!READER

— Love's Train by @moonlight-prose

a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine, and the floor.

— To Be Loved by @/moonlight-prose

“you didn’t intend to give up your heart - believing that you could remain one person without severing yourself in two.”

ULYSSES KLAUE X F!READER

— Bringin' Home the Rain by @the-eyes-of-andyserkis

You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

— Danger Starts the Sharp Incline by @citrus-moonlight

At your scientific organization the study of demon energy output has become no less mundane than it would at any other research facility. That is until you find yourself trapped with the demon who has recently shifted in your thoughts from an idle curiosity to a distraction.

— I Always Find My Way Back To You by @/tarrenterror

You can always count on Ulysses to return to you, but lately you find yourself wanting more. The new dangers in the world don't make the life of an arms dealer any easier and any day could be his last. Running away and living off the grid with the man you love is the dream. Does he share your feelings and can he be convinced to live a life with you?

— Please Hold… by @/tarrenterror

Klaue is not opposed to mixing business with pleasure.

— Salvation is a Deep Dark Well by @/citrus-moonlight

Memories and fresh desires are intertwined now and you think you might go mad from the waiting, but all you can do is try to keep yourself busy as you count down to Klaue’s return.

— Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right by @/the-eyes-of-andy-serkis

After a particularly rough flight you’re suddenly having anxiety for the first time in all of your years in the air, buyou end up finding help in an unexpected place when an enigmatic passenger offers you a distraction.

— Woven by @/citrus-moonlight

As winter begins to settle in, the darkening days are unexpected brightened when you end up with the chance to spend a little more time with Ulysses Klaue.

if you haven’t read these, you need to! and please support these amazing fics & writers by reading, reblogging & commenting! 💕

[d-romanov]

float around and ghost my friends

[title- phoebe bridgers. natasha romanoff x teen!reader, minimal platonic peter x reader]

2.5k words

You didn’t have a normal childhood, but you mama encourages you to have a normal highschool experience and lets you go to a party. It doesn’t quite go how she wanted, or how you expected.

trigger warnings: underage drinking + drinking to cope, suicidal ideation?, depression, it’s sad ngl but it’s got a hopeful ending (probably)

Living your life after a childhood of pain and misery is hard, it is so, so hard. You wonder if the man across the street is just a stranger or someone there to take you back, if the light flickering meant someone had found you, if the loud noise down the hall was a body against a wall. God, if you started thinking too hard about it you wouldn’t stop.

Thank god high school would only make it worse!

Growing up as a Hydra lab rat they still had to keep you occupied, lest you go catatonic and ruin their tests. You saw plenty of shows and movies about high school, about how important the dance next saturday was, when everyone’s classes were, the like. You understood, to an extent, that parties were a big deal. Parents went out of town, kids got shitfaced, snuck back into bed past “curfew.” fun times.

It’s been a little over a year since you were found by the Avangers, and just a few months since Natasha Romanoff finalized the adoption paperwork for you. Even if you couldn’t call her mom as much as you wanted to you were happy, truly content for the first time in your life. You had friends, family, and a mother who wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy your new life.

Which is why, when peter had invited you to a party being put on by someone in his class, your mom urged you to go.

—

You haven’t been sleeping much in the last few weeks. Insomnia and trauma-induced nightmares were taking their toll on you, but you could handle a bit of sleep deprivation. Besides, you weren’t about to concern Natasha more, she’s had enough on her plate lately.

No, no matter how long you stayed awake shaking, shivering, not breathing waiting for a sound in the hallway, you wouldn’t bother Natasha. Though, that didn’t stop you from being a bit more clingy during the day before calling it a night.

“It’s an opportunity for you to have fun outside the tower, детка, you should go.” You sat cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, watching as she put away laundry. It was calming. “I’m only a call away if you and Peter wanna ditch, but I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Her encouragement throws you off. “You know what happens at those parties though, don’t you?” You shift so you’re laying down against the pillows, “Shouldn’t you be making me stay home?”

Natasha laughs. “Hon, highschool parties aren’t nearly as crazy as movies make them out to be, and i know you. It’s not like you’re going to get wasted or make out with any boys.” You pull a face and Natasha laughs again, and you laugh with her.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” She presses a kiss to your forehead and you smile up at her.

“I’ll go.”

—

You’re already regretting it, and you’ve only been in the house for 20 minutes. Peter don’t ditch you per se, but you haven’t seen him since you settled on the couch. The music pulses through the floor and you can feel the bass in your teeth. You’re pressed in at the far end of the couch hugging the armrest, clutching a soda can in one hand and hovering over Natasha’s contact in you phone with the other. A bark of laughter from the kitchen throws you out of your thoughts and you notice someone pouring out shots. somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder when the last time you had a drink was, to which your brain unhelpfully answers “too long.”

Aside from anesthesia, the best pain relief you had in your old life was alcohol. You understood that it wasn’t healthy, even back then you knew that, but it kept your thoughts from racing and helped you sleep at night.

A small crowd was formed around the kitchen counter, and you watch as two boys get locked into a fierce competition of Cup Pong.

You watch one of them, a lean, blonde boy from the soccer team, fading fast. only two of his cups have been emptied, he’s clearly a lightweight and already wobbling by his third shot. The other boy is one you recognize from your history class. he’s loud, obnoxious, and goading on the other boy who’s finally thrown the ping pong ball properly and landed it in a cup.

The loud one sinks in another two balls, and you see the blond visibly swallow. you don’t know what comes over you because in the next moment, you down his two shots in one go.

“Woah-hoh-hoh! looks like someone’s up to the challenge!” His face breaks into a shit eating grin, “Too bad you picked a battle with the undefeated champ here.” you hear a few whistles in the growing crowd and smirk, You can feel the buzz hitting your head and it feels good, you feel good for the first time in days.

“Undefeated, huh? Well, this is gonna be really embarrassing for you then.” You’re cocky, but you don’t care, you just wanna get drunk.

He quickly bounces another ball, landing in your forward cup, the second misses. Your two land and it’s a battle keeping your face straight. Your opponent is intimidated, but he hides it behind a grin and his height, but he’s too obvious. You know he’ll hit his limit far sooner than you’ll hit yours, so you tease him a bit.

To throw him off, you miss your next two throws, and his second lands. as soon as the cup is empty you begin to sway. you’re in no drunken state, there’s barely a buzz at this point, but he doesn’t know that. As far as he knows, you’re just as much of a lightweight as the blond before you.

He’s hiding his own swaying body by leaning forward on the counter, but you can see in his eyes he’s getting drunk, and thanks to the alcohol of choice being vodka, it won’t be much longer before he’s out. You were hoping for a bit more fun, but his head start in the is game threw that off a bit. You strike fast. Two balls, two cups, one throw, it’s impressive to the crowd but for you it’s child’s play. He down the cups, slower than before, and you can see sweat forming on his forehead.

He misses his next throw and you can’t stop yourself from being a bit disappointed. then again, you only have one cup left versus his, you huff a laugh.

“I mean, it’s a little unfair of me to be beating you. You had a head start in the game, why don’t we level it out?”

The crowd is rowdy and you see his face twist into a grimace. He’s getting agitated while you’re loosening up, happily putting on a show for everyone around you.

You pour yourself two more shots and take the one after the other. You revel in the burn, you feel lighter, higher, ready to put this stupid kid in his place.

—

You win that game, you win two more games, and everything becomes a blur. You think your phone buzzes a few times through the night but you ignore it in favor of pouring yourself another drink and laughing your ass off. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt normal, and even if you don’t know anyone’s names they’re funny enough, and you can forget about the past for the night.

You’re not noticeable in school, you hide yourself in the back of the class and only talk to peter and his friends. You’re allowed to leave class whenever you need to thanks to a plan you’re mom had set up with the school, so it’s not like you usually stick around enough to talk to anyone. You’re just some new kid lost in the crowd there, but now, here, people are talking to your face instead of whispering behind your back and avoiding eye contact. you finally feel free.

You get up and unsteadily return to the kitchen for another shitty bear. You look over your shoulder and throw your hands out. “Peter!!” you shout, ending in a giggle when you see his face, he’s looking at you funny. “hiiiii!!”

“Are you drunk??” Oh never mind, he sounds mad.

“Nooo?” You giggle again, he doesn’t believe you but you don’t really care.

Peter rubs his hand down his face and starts to guide you to the door.

“Where’re we going i was having funnnn,” You whine, pushing against his insistence you leave.

“(Y/n) i already called natasha, now drink this and sit tight.” He’s frustrated and hands you a water bottle, you pout and plop onto the grass, lazily sipping at the bottle.

You’re not sure how much later it happens, but Natasha’s car pulls up on the curb. She steps out and she looks pissed, if you had any energy left you’d probably be scared. “Hi мама,” even drunk and half asleep you still know you sound like a pathetic mess, and right now you really just want to catch up on all the sleep you’ve missed.

She kneels down next to you on the grass and moves your sweaty hair from your forehead, you notice her face soften. “Hi малышка, let’s get you home.”

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out. Your voice is small, and you don’t mean to sound so weak but the alcohol in your system makes you feel vulnerable. “I don’ want you to be mad at me i was jus’ so tired.”

“No hun, i’m not mad. We’ll talk in the morning when you’ve sobered up, now up you get.”

If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve seen the heartbreak cross her face.

She hoists you up with your arm over her shoulder, and you’re grateful for it because without her you’d have fallen face first into the dirt.

You hear her ask Peter to open the door, and as soon as you’re in the car you’re out like a light.

—

Anyone could tell from a mile away that Natasha loved you. Since the day you were found she’d always cared and wanted the best for you. You were the child she’d always wanted, and she’d do anything for you. And anyone could tell that seeing her kid so small, so sad, was breaking her heart.

Peter’s phone call had been confusing, something about you getting too competitive to think straight and then too drunk to stand. She’d shown up expecting a slightly drunk teenager, not you. Not you sitting in the grass, on the curb, nursing a water bottle and looking so utterly defeated. She didn’t know what to do, she just wanted to take all your pain away.

Getting you home was the easy part. Apparently, getting you out of the party had also sucked all of your energy, and you were cooperative getting in the car, hell you were asleep as soon as the door shut. Natasha dropped Peter off at home before returning to the tower, after getting some context to the situation of course. Now it was time to get you to bed, and figure out her next steps.

—

“Mmmn?” You can barely open your eyes, everything just feels so heavy and faraway. Behind squinted eyes you recognize that it’s Natasha pulling you from the car.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

Your short nap didn’t help you much. “‘M tired,” You croak out, cringing at the taste of your dry mouth.

“I know you are bub,” She pull one of your arms over her shoulders and leads you through the tower’s garage to the elevator. “That’s why we’re gonna get you cleaned up in into bed.”

Your response isn’t more than an affirmative grunt, but you can get the words past your throat.

Eventually, after a blur of motion and lights and almost getting sick on the way up, you’re in your room. You don’t want to be in here.

Natasha guides you to your bed, keeping you steady as you sit down. Before she can pull away your hands grip her shoulders like a vice.

You don’t even realize you’re crying. “Don’- Мама don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” You don’t want to be alone. You just want to sleep but you can’t sleep because when you sleep your mind attacks and attacks and attacks and you can’t keep dealing with this forever you’re so tired.

“Hey hey, no i’m not going anywhere детка. Im not leaving, but i need you to breathe, please.” You can’t stop yourself from closing your eyes. You hate the way she’s looking at you, she looks so sad and you’re the one doing this. God look at you, look how pathetic you’ve become.

“I ju- I just wanted everything to stop. i wanted to be normal in sorry. i’m sorry мама i’m sorry i’m just tired i’m sorry.” The words get caught in your throat and choked out in a sob. You try to pull back, hide in you pillows and shut out everything, but natasha’s returned grip is solid and fierce, yet gentle, and kind, and she pulls you into her chest as you fight every cry that bubbles up.

“Let it out малышка, don’t fight it. It’s okay, i’ve got you. I’ve got you, love.” Her hold on you grows tighter and you can almost feel your chest open just from her words. No matter how much you were taught and built against it from birth, Natasha was your lifeline.

Minutes or hours later, you’re cries turn to whimper and the bone-deep exhaustion makes itself known again. Your arms feel so heavy, you can barely keep your puffy eyes open and you just want to sleep for the next month.

“Hey,” Natasha says it so softly she’s worried you’ll miss it, but she doesn’t want to startle you. “Let’s get you changed. I’m just gonna grab you some pajamas, okay?”

You must’ve nodded, because natasha moves and you faintly hear your dresser draws move. You’re half asleep as natasha helps you change into comfier clothes, you’re eyes aren’t even open once she’s tucked you and herself into bed and holds your head to her chest.

“I love you so, so much малышка. Got to sleep, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Your answer is a whisper “I love you, мама.”

You’re out like a light, you limbs heavy and mind blissfully quiet. Natasha hardly sleeps, thinking only about you and the conversation you need to have.

——

part 2!!!

[rancidpancakebatter]

In the Name of Good | Prt 2 -[P.P.]

Pairings: Dark!Yandere!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: The cat's out of the bag, so how do you proceed?

Word Count: 5.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+

Swearing, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of emesis, Smut, Oral (f and m receiving), P in V sex, choking, multiple orgasms, Daddy Kink

( Part 1 | Masterlist )

A/N: The long-awaited sequel which is really just porn with a plot. I'm not sure if this will be a complete story but I may update it every now and then.

Peter's darkness is much more subtle in this piece so there are no major warnings this time around.

Happy Holloween you whores <3

The early light creeps through your window, the golden rays kissing your skin. You stretch your fingers toward the carnelian beams and let your fingers dance in the sundust. You bask in the peace of the morning. As the sun rises it brings a new dawn, a new day. Who knew what you would do today? You could do anything. Today felt like a shopping day. It seems nice out and you could feel stress sitting in your bones, a deep ache pulling at your muscles. 

You stretch before opening your blinds. That’s odd, you don’t remember closing them. You look at the house across the street. Peter’s car sits in front of the house; if you squint your eyes, you can see him through the window. He sits perched in his desk chair, twirling a pencil as he examines a piece of paper. 

Something felt…off about this morning. It was something you couldn’t quite place but this morning brought a certain uneasiness. It was something you hoped a hot shower could fix. 

You let the steam ease your tired bones as you soaked in the eucalyptus sent. As you scrubbed your brain spiralled. What had happened? Why couldn’t you remember? Your brain felt fuzzy as flashes of intangible moments congested your mind.

You had been afraid. You remember the nausea that accompanied it. The knocked-over bottles on the sink were all too real to ignore. Peter was there. Had you been afraid of him? No! You shook your head trying to fling that thought to the farthest corner, somewhere it couldn’t hurt you again. Along with thoughts of dog tags, of headphones, of a twisted smile warped by shadows. 

Peter was here. Or rather you were there, with him, in his room. It was dark. Flashes of white cloud your mind. Harsh lines against the wall, you could feel them on your skin. As if somehow a part of you, intertwined with your being. 

You wiped the fog from the mirror and felt that familiar feeling of dread. It wasn’t a nightmare. Peter had…hurt people. He had killed them. And he- he hurt you. Purple stars on your shoulder, constellations woven into your skin to tell a tale of horror. You traced the bruises in abhorrence, the pads of his fingers left behind as a warning. 

You fell to the floor as everything washed over you once again. The chilled ceramic did nothing to soothe you. Like Eve, you had been brought to your knees by the tree of knowledge. Was it worth it? Every question you had ever had, answered by a cracked doorway that you carelessly ploughed through. You had tasted the flesh of the apple against your lips and now it was too late to go back. 

You paced your room as your mind reeled. Peter was a murderer. You should then turn him in. You knew, you had the evidence, you should turn him in. But would that be enough? Would it be enough to stop him? Would it be enough to absolve you?

As much as you hated to think about it, you already knew. You had recognised there was a darkness in Peter even when you were children. The way his reactions almost seemed rehearsed. The way he wouldn’t bat an eye at someone else’s misfortune. But you had labelled it as bravery. The way he would blindly charge into danger if you were in harm's way. The way he would run to May’s aid, big or small. The way he would clean your bumps and scrapes with nothing but a smile on his face. 

You looked at the pictures that adorned your bedroom wall. Peter had insisted on helping you hang them up. He had given you two stacks of photos one day in the warm July heat. You sat in your room between fans and your open window ushering in the humid breeze. Peter’s presence was a comfort then, as you looked through memories frozen in time. 

Now as you looked around all you saw was him. What was once a comforting remark now haunted you as you gazed into his empty eyes. “This way I can watch over you. I can always be here. I can always see you.” 

I can always see you. You felt suffocated under his dead gaze. There was nowhere you could go, nowhere you could hide. He was everywhere. 

You moved to open the window, hoping some fresh air would help. The light of the sun cradled you in a blanket of warmth. The chirping birds sing in melodies and harmonies alike as they skate through the sky. You close your eyes focusing instead on everything else. 

Peter watches in wonder as you absorb the world around you. He had been trying to give you space. He knew you would come around, he just had to give it some time. Let you wrestle with this for a bit before catching you in his arms. He knows that you would never leave him. He knew it was only a matter of time before you would call him or knock on his door. He just had to wait. He could do that. 

He sat camera faced at you, watching as your fingers pulled out the braid he had carefully crafted for you. He watched as you paced your room, hugging yourself close. He watched as you stared at the wall, tracing the shape of his face with a shaky hand. He watched as you went to the window, ripping it open and gasping for air. 

He joined you there, a street away. Your eyes were closed and your hair billowed in the wind as you drank in the sunlight. You were what ancient poets wrote of. You were his Ithica. His rock, his home, his love, his life. And you were so beautiful. 

You raised your head, opening your eyes, only to find Peter staring right at you. You felt a swirling of emotions in your gut. You were looking at pure evil, someone who killed to kill, someone who liked to kill. You were looking at someone who a few hours ago had no qualms about killing you. 

Your stare was expressionless, something that perplexed Peter. You usually wore your heart on your sleeve and every thought on your brow. But now, as he looked into your eyes, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking. He didn’t appreciate being out of the know. You had suddenly become an unknown variable in an equation he knew quite well. 

You tried to look at him objectively. You took in the way the sun seemed to melt into his skin, leaving stark shadows by the bulb of his nose and under the cut of his jaw. If someone told you that he had been carved from marble at the hands of Michelangelo, you would believe them. He was well-defined, every muscle and bone clear in the rays of the sun, but there was a softness to his edges that made him look feathered, almost holy. 

You had never stared Peter down before. He was seeing in you a boldness that he had yet to experience. He wasn’t sure if it was something he liked. You held a certain coldness that he was unfamiliar with. How odd. 

Peter tilted his head and you mindlessly mimicked it. You were attempting to break him down to a microscopic level, to judge his very molecules. Peter was dark but was he evil? This is what you were trying to solve. As you stared at him you thought back to every moment you had shared, tearing each memory to shreds, looking for anything that would tell you Peter was bad. 

You came up with a lot of ambitious greys. He had killed someone, several someones, but some of those murders were somewhat justifiable. He had killed pets. That was not good but better than killing people. He had been fascinated with the macabre but that made him fantastic to watch horror movies with. He had been cold to others but always showed you great kindness. He could display tremendous violence but you had only seen it in your defence. A vicious knight in shining armour coming to rescue you with bared teeth and bloody knuckles. 

You pulled away from the window leaving it open as you made your way down the stairs. Peter watched in curiosity as you marched your way across the street, not sparing him a single glance. He heard your determined steps and opened his door to you. 

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head in his shirt. You couldn’t separate Peter from his actions. To lose any of him would be to lose him all. Your nails dug into his back as you blinked back tears. No. You were not going to lose him. Not today, not ever. Your Peter. 

“Aw, little lamb. What’s wrong?” He pulled you closer as you shook your head. How could you put it into words? How could you tell him that he was every boogeyman you feared but also the only solace from this waking nightmare? 

You pulled away with tears of anger. He looked at you confused and everything spilt over. You banged your hand against his chest. 

How could he? 

You brought your hand down again. 

He did this

And again.

You did this

And again

He did it for you

And again

And you let him

And again

For years

And again

You let him

You raised your fist another time, not nearly close to done, but Peter grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You struggled against him but his hold was strong, too strong to fight. Your wave of anger passed and left you with true exhaustion. You collapsed against him, small whimpers falling from your lips. 

He held you to his chest as you continued to cry. You focused on the beating of his heart, his hand tracing shapes on your back, his breath on your shoulder, the sweet cooing in your ear. This was Peter. This was the boy you loved. The one holding you and telling you everything was going to be okay. 

It wasn’t enough. You needed more. More of his gentle touches and reassuring words. You needed to feel him, to know he was real and here. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he caught your legs as you jumped. 

“It’s okay, little lamb, I gotcha.” And you believed him. He always had you. He always made it better. If you were with Peter everything would be okay. You buried your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the woodsy smell of pine and cedar. It still wasn’t enough. You pulled yourself closer, your hands now in his hair and legs trapping him in a vice grip. You squeezed and squeezed, knowing he could take it. You just needed more. 

You felt a hand on your head and another wrapped around your back. It seemed like he was trying to reciprocate and the thought brought you a sliver of serenity. He moved to the bed, sitting you down on his lap and continued to pet your hair. All too soon he was breaking away and you couldn’t help the cry you let out. His hands found your face, lifting it to meet his gaze. 

“Little lamb, I can’t help you if you don't tell me what’s wrong.” The knot in his brows seemed real, as did the way he tensed his jaw. 

“I- I can’t-” You gulped helplessly for air but it felt as though someone had poked a hole in your lung. “I-You can’t- You can’t leave me!” 

You were gripping wildly at his shirt, trying to bring him closer, but his hold on your face kept you far away. He brought his lips to your forehead and everything stopped. For just a moment the clouds had parted and your mind cleared, but then he broke away and the fear swallowed you whole. 

In an act of delirium, you moved a hand from his shoulder to his neck. You felt the small goose bumps under the pads of your fingers, the drum of his steady pulse under your palm. It soothed you. You moved your hand lower, stretching his neckline as you reached for his pec, his heart. 

“Hey, hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hand on your wrist stopped you once again and you wanted to scream. His touch brought back that semblance of peace and in the quiet of your mind, you were able to piece together what you needed. 

Your eyes were filled with desperation, for what Peter couldn’t tell. He wanted to fix it. He could hear your heart thrumming, the small thing fluttering in your chest. 

“Please I…” Your mouth felt dry and your tongue heavy. “I need to feel you.” 

Peter froze. His mind was picking your words apart, dissecting each syllable. He thought he would explode. He looked over your frame, your heavy breathing and shaky hands. This is it. This is what he’s been waiting for. You would fall in love with him today. He was determined. 

He let go of your hands, placing his own on your waist. “Do whatever you need.”

You reached for his shirt and he helped you get it off. Your fingers traced the muscle and scars. He was so pretty. You needed more, more contact. You moved to take off your shirt and Peter watched in awe as you revealed yourself to him. 

You wrapped yourself around him, hands tracing the planes of his back, massaging the muscle under your palms. Peter’s hands were running up and down your back in comforting circles. 

His fingers began toying with the clasp of your bra listening for your reaction. He noticed the way your heart beat faster and your breath caught in your throat. He slipped the annoying fabric off your shoulders and gathered all the strength he had. You were on his lap, pressed against him. All of his late-night fantasies were coming to fruition and he had to stop himself from pinning you to the bed and fucking you like an animal. He had to be slow, and careful. 

You pulled yourself closer, head buried in his neck as your nose played with his pulse point. Peter trailed his shaking hands to your ass, squeezing it. You let out a soft moan and Peter could scream. He could feel you against him. He could pick up on the small pulse in your clit, the new warmth in your core against his waist. 

He trailed his hand down further, rubbing at your thigh, and you whined again. His fingers found your chin, lifting you to see him eye to eye. His palm flattened against your cheek and you nuzzled into it, lost in the warmth of his touch. Peter’s willpower was hanging by a thread and you were doing very little to keep him strong. 

“Little lamb, do you want me to make you feel better?” His other hand skated a path on the inside of your thigh. “Do you want me to fix it?” 

You nodded your head, the sheer force of it rattling your brain. He was gonna fix it. Peter knew you better than anyone and you knew he would give you what you needed, even if you weren’t sure what that was right now. But Peter would know. He always knew and he always fixed it. 

He brought his lips to yours and you felt the rapture in his touch. His grip on your thigh grounded you in the moment. His lips were dry and cracked, the dead skin threatening to cut you open but god if it didn’t make you feel things. His thumb pulled at your chin, opening your mouth to him. His tongue explored forth and you pushed yours forward trying to meet it. The kiss was awkward and lacking a certain grace but neither of you cared. 

He turned to the side, placing your back on the bed and slotting himself between your legs. You tried to pull him down and he let you guide him. With all of his weight on you, you began to feel a little better. Peter was becoming more and more tangible. 

His hands skated across your ribs then in towards your boobs. You moaned at the feeling of him holding you in his big hands. Peter’s kisses left your face to join his deft fingers. You had never felt like this before, like you were on fire but also like ice was running through your veins. Peter was both dousing the fire and adding petrol to the flames. It was intoxicating. 

He took a nipple in his mouth and worried it with his teeth. He was delighted when he felt you buck underneath him. He marked them as much as he could, while his hands worked on getting your jeans off. He wanted everyone to know they were his. Not Noah’s, not Micheal’s, not Morrissey’s, and certainly not Blake’s. 

No, no, this was all Peter’s. You belonged to him, well before this moment. You were always his. He knew he would make it so, that one day he saw you sitting on the curb. He knew then that you would be his. He spent years instilling this thought in your head. Years of meticulous planning and discreet word choice all leading to this moment. You would be his forever. 

He pulled down your jeans like he had many times before, but this time a new aroma surrounded him. It was all-consuming. Peter’s eyes darkened and you almost didn’t recognise the man in front of you. Without a single warning, he was gripping your thighs, pulling them apart to make space for his face. 

You felt his tongue against the crotch of your panties and it felt like he had shocked you with a twelve-volt battery. You gripped the sheets as he started making out with clothed pussy. His name tumbled from your lips and he had never heard a more sacrosanct sound. It brought him back to the moment. 

He had almost forgotten that you were awake. He didn’t have to be careful, he could indulge in everything you had to offer, and he planned to drown. He ripped your panties, the elastic snapping under his powerful grip. He placed his thumbs on your mound, pulling your lips apart to fully soak in the treasure before him. 

He ran his nose from your quivering hole to your clit, breathing in the aphrodisiac that is you. Your hips bucked again and Peter couldn’t help grinding into the mattress. He ate you out like a starved man at a Golden Coral. 

You couldn’t keep track of where he was. He was sucking on your clit, then thrusting his tongue inside you, then he was in both places at the same time. Your brain was melting in pleasure and Peter could tell you were close. He wasn’t exactly sure how but he just knew and the thought spurred him on more. He brought a finger to your cunt and watched as your toes curled. 

“Petey, I feel, I feel weird” Peter could have came just then. His imagination ran wild at the thought of you never coming before. And he would be the first person, the only person, to make you do so. 

“It’s okay little lamb, you’ll feel better I promise. Just let it go.” He put another finger in you and it hurt, but the way he was pumping them so fast had your mind spinning. He went back to attacking your clit and you felt an unfamiliar snap in your abdomen. It was like you were seeing colour for the first time. You let out a scream as you came and Peter slowly came to a stop. 

You saw him grinning between your legs before he dipped his head down once again. He pinned down your legs to keep you from squirming as his tongue entered you again. You could feel the muscle as it scrapped against your walls. He brought his thumb back to your clit and started running it in a circle. You couldn’t breathe. 

“Pete, Pete, it’s too much.” He just went harder and your back arched. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging on it, trying to pull him away. You felt him grunt into you as it reverberated through you. You felt that feeling in the pit of your gut again and you focused on Peter’s instructions. You felt your legs start to straighten and you were panting, music to Peter’s ears. You came again and Peter wasted no time licking it up. 

You lay there lifeless against his pillows, trying to catch your breath. You felt Peter stand and you turned to watch him slip off his pants. He stood before you, a Grecian god. His hard-on was reaching to his belly button, red and shiny. 

You sat up immediately. You had never seen a penis before, not in person at least. A few years ago Peter had introduced you to porn but it wasn’t really your thing. 

“Look what you did to me little lamb.” Your heart fell through the floor. He grabbed your hand placing it on the shaft. It felt heavy in your palm, and you started stroking it. 

“Does it…hurt?” You had heard guys at school talking about having erections. You had heard them talking about how sometimes it hurt and how cruel these girls were for making them hurt. You didn’t want Peter to hurt. 

“A little bit,” was all he said. You bit your lip, the guilt eating away at you. 

“I want to help. How can I help?” Peter put a hand on your face, his thumb tracing the hallow of your cheek. It then tracked its way to your lip, pulling it from your teeth before quickly replacing it. 

You swirled your tongue around his thumb, sucking it in further. Peter threw his head back in a moan and you stopped. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” You were doing this all wrong. You had caused Peter pain and you couldn’t fix it. Why couldn’t you fix him the way he fixed you? Peter only chuckled and you couldn’t understand what was so funny about you being a bad friend. 

“It’s okay little lamb, it didn’t hurt. It felt really nice.” You beamed at him and the pride in your eyes made him feral. 

“Really?” Of course, you were a pleaser. It would only make sense. This new revelation gave him so much more ammo. God, you were too good to be true. It was like he built you in a lab. In a way he kind of had. 

“Yes, you’ve been such a good girl.” You preened at his words. 

“Can you keep being a good girl for me?” You nodded your head and Peter used his thumb to pull your mouth open again. 

“Stick your tongue out for me, yeah just like that, now breath through your nose.” You followed his instructions as he grabbed your hair, bringing you closer and closer to his member. 

It felt heavy on your tongue, and a little tangy too. You wrapped your lips around him, tracing a prominent vein with your tongue. Peter threw his head back again and this time you continued. After a bit you felt his hand pull on your hair, pulling you away from his cock before slamming it back down. You choked around him and he kept you there, his other hand rubbing your cheek. 

“There you go, there you go. You gotta breathe through your nose. Just relax, yeah. You’re doing so good for me little lamb.” You focused on his words, trying to follow his instruction. He moved your head back and forward again falling into a steady rhythm. He was hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, you could feel a sore spot where his tip kept hitting. 

Above you, Peter was a panting mess. He was babbling and you felt proud of yourself for doing that to him. He was singing you praises about how good you felt, the great job that you were doing. He looked down at you and that was his reckoning. You were peering up at him, dick in your mouth and a slobbering mess. He saw the tears running down your cheeks and it took all of his strength to pull you away. 

One day he would fuck that pretty face of yours but he couldn’t now. His goal was to make you fall in love with him. He had to show you how good he was at pleasuring you. He had to show you that he knew what you needed, what you wanted. He had to show you that he was the only person that could do that for you. 

You pulled away with a soft pop and a smile. “Was that good?” 

Peter brought you into a bruising kiss and you could taste the both of you. The blend was intoxicating. “Oh baby, you did so well.” 

He was pushing you back into the bed as a hand moved back down to your core. His fingers moved around in the slick and you purred. 

“Look at you little lamb, I just cleaned you up. Did you like sucking on Daddy’s dick like that, hmm?” You nodded your head, biting your lip in an attempt to lessen your grin. 

His lips found the side of your neck, licking and biting on the supple skin. “Well you did such a good job, I think it’s only fair Daddy pay it forward.” 

You tangled your hands in his hair, running the smooth locks through your fingers. “No, it’s okay. I wanna make you feel good.” 

His fingers found your abused clit and you arched your back into him. “Oh little lamb, It’ll make me feel so much better.” 

He pulled away as you looked at him through heavy eyelids. “Do you promise, Daddy?” 

Peter growled before attacking you. His kiss was heavy making you lose any train of thought. 

“Promise.” You felt a blinding pain in your core. Your nails racked up his back as you grasp for the air he seemed to have pushed out of you. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’ll feel better in a moment.” He kissed away the tears running down your face, massaging your breast. He began pulling out slowly leaving only his tip, then slammed back into you. The pain was beginning to subside or maybe it was just him working your clit and hitting something in you that made your toes curl. 

He grabbed one of your legs, bringing your ankle to his shoulder, pushing himself deeper. A moan ripped from your throat, as you felt him hit your cervix, over and over. You reached for his face, needing to kiss him. Wanting all of him. You needed to drown in everything Peter Parker could give you. 

His hand found the back of your neck once again. You clung to him as his thumb traced its way down your jugular. He could feel it drumming against his skin, he pushed against it, fascinated by you. You suddenly felt airy, your mind was swimming and your senses were heightened. Peter felt the way you tightened around him and the way your heart picked up. 

He brought his hand to the front of your throat, adjusting his grip, before applying more pressure. You moaned as he continued to piston into you. The coil in your abdomen was moments from snapping, your legs were tensing on their own accord. You were no longer in control, not that you ever were. 

Peter had bewitched you. You weren't sure when but you looked into his eyes and knew that it must have happened. Your vision was getting blurry, with tears or lack of oxygen you weren’t sure. You heard Peter whisper something to you, something you couldn't quite make out past the sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Then his fingers released you. The sudden rush of oxygen to your brain made you feel dizzy, your nerves alight. You came with a gasp and Peter didn’t slow down for a single second. 

He continued slamming into you as you lay there limp, unable to do much more. He flipped you over on your face and grabbed your hips, setting them upright. He kissed along your spine before entering you again. You cried out into the pillows, he was so big and so deep inside you. You wondered for a moment if the constant rocking had affected your brain. 

He was using your body and you didn’t hate it. He gave you all the praise you could hope for and you got to sit there and take it. It seemed like a great arrangement. Your fingers gripped the sheets, clawing at them desperately. There was a certain element of pain present but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he felt this amazing. 

“God, you feel so good. Better than ever before.” You let yourself drown in the words he was saying, in the feeling he was bringing you. He was fixing it. Just like he promised. It wasn’t long until he let out a harsh grunt, pushing himself even farther into you. You felt his dick twitch and a warmth coat your walls. 

When Peter pulled out he noticed you wince. He turned you around to face him and began massaging your body. His firm hands ran past the muscle of your thighs to the fat on your stomach with soothing circles. You looked devastatingly gorgeous like this. Completely wrecked, totally relaxed, entirely pliant. 

You made grabby hands for him and he chuckled as he fell into your embrace. You brought him flush to your sweaty body, running your hands through his chestnut locks. He hummed against you and you couldn’t help the smile pulling at your face. 

“Hey, Peter?” He could sense your anxiety, which is never a good sign. He was so sure his plan had worked.

“Yes, little lamb?” Your fingers stuttered in their ministrations as you fought for the words. 

“I- I was just wondering…” The words died in your throat. Peter moved his head, so he could look into your eyes. 

“Wondering if what?” You closed your eyes, feeling too overwhelmed by his gaze. You thought about what had led you here in the first place. You thought of the revelation you had as you first wrapped your arms around him. To lose any of him would be to lose him all. You couldn’t ask him to stop. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. You felt terrible. How could you even ask him to do that? How could you be so selfish?

“Uhhh, what are we? Like now? Are we still friends? Are we more?” Peter tilted his head as he pondered your question. 

“Well, what do you want?” You felt all the air leave your body, suddenly replaced entirely with fear. 

“I don’t want you to leave. I want you, forever.” Peter raised himself with his arms, now hovering over your body. The space between you palpable now as he searched your eyes. 

“Then you have me,” He kissed you, it was a promise. 

A Peter Parker promise was a binding contract. He chose his words with such precision, he never said something without resounding contemplation. He pressed his words into your soul, branding you for the rest of your days. 

“Forever.” 

Tag List: @andrews-lovr @brinaslittlefreak @ilovemoonknight @negasonic-teenage-asshole @preciousbabypeter @princesskittycatofmeowland @rudy-the-winged-wolf @whoreforklitz @liz-allyn and @blooming-violets this sequel is for you. Hope y'all enjoy :))

[bennydunbar]

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

oh wow took me long enough but HEY ive finished it finally

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It was in the midst of winter, the only thing that's warming the both of you were your home heater and your fireplace. A perfect time to have hot chocolate with marshmallows, to cuddle up while you watch horror movies and maybe to just, goof around. Goof around? In this cold? Sounds a little dumb.

Buuut that doesn't stop you, does it?

You connected your TV to your phone, looking for something. Peter is puzzled as he sees you doing this while he holds two mugs of hot chocolate.

"Darling? What are you looking for?"

"Give me a second, dove."

That term of endearment tugs his heart; honestly, whatever endearments you give him is always a blessing anyway. He blushes as he sets your mugs down the coffee table.

You found what you've been searching for, and you turned up the volume. Thankfully, Peter lives in the middle of nowhere, so there's no neighbour to worry about.

"Oh? Trying to set the mood?" Peter teases you, a light chuckle escapes him as he does so. 

"Something like that," you stood up, spooking the poor 6'5 man and having him back up a little. The instruments start to play, and your shoulders groove. Your partner's eyes widen.

"Darling?"

You're just too good to be true, Can't take my eyes off of you 

You take his hand, making him yelp.

"Darling!" he chortled as you intertwined your fingers with his own; instinctively, he rest his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder. The both of you slowly swayed in the living room.

You'd be like heaven to touch,  Oh, I want to hold you so much 

You can feel his slender fingers tightened a little on your waist, carving a smile on your face. His feet synced to the song, and his sapphires are fixed on you. He'd usually slouch to meet your eyes — but not this time. His height towers you, and you adore looking up to him.

At long last love has arrived,  And I thank God I'm alive 

"I didn't know you could dance."

"Just a little, my love. Just enough," a warm smile is plastered on his face as this time you're going to have to keep up with him. You chuckle at how content he looks.

You're just too good to be true,  I can't take my eyes off of you 

Peter looks completely smitten now, mumbling the lyrics to himself. It's as if he knows this song, but a little shy to actually sing it to you.

"Mind being a little louder?"

Pardon the way that I stare,  There's nothin' else to compare 

He smirked, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I'd love it, actually!" you replied enthusiastically and the both of you laughed. 

"Do excuse me for staring, you know, with my blue eyes and all," he widened his eyes at the statement, emphasising the joke. You laugh and you can feel his hand moved up to the small of your back.

The sight of you leaves me weak,  There're no words left to speak 

He continues to mumble the lyrics, but it's clear that he's enjoying the height difference between the two of you. His feet are meticulous and he's careful not to step on your toes as his body moves to the rhythm.

But if you feel like I feel,  Please let me know that it's real 

He leans closer to you, both of your foreheads meeting as you both swayed in the room. The music warms the room, his cold hands no longer blue.

You're just too good to be true,  Can't take my eyes off of you

He opens his eyes to look at you. To savour you. His gaze burns right through you.

The instruments play, and now it’s his turn to groove his shoulders. The both of you picking up the pace to the rhythm. You see him smirking, clearly planning on something. He smiles cheekily; cunningly?

I love you, baby

“Whoa!”

and if it's quite alright I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

You’re suddenly dipped! He laughs as he fleetingly kisses your neck. A hand making sure that you’re steady and stable so you won’t fall onto the floor. You didn’t notice this, but you’re laughing too.

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray

You’re back up, chest to chest with him. You really hear him sing now. A steady and soothing voice laced with excitement. You’ve started this. Might as well go all out, right? You give him a knowing look, receiving a curious one from him.

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay And let me love you, baby, let me love you

You bring your intertwined hands into the air, the other holding his slender waist. Foot stepped back and your bodies spin. His mouth agape, not expecting you to take the lead.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off you

The scenery behind the both of you slowly melts like oil painting on canvas. Nothing stays the same. The first blink, your boyfriend looks surprised! The second, you see a bright smile. The third, you hear a hearty laugh coming out of him. Snorts and wheezes – as if he’s really taking in the sight of you. Breathing in this dance and capturing the moment with you.

You'd be like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much

The spin has slowed down. You see colours in his cheeks. Something rather hard to find. His eyes are lovestruck, his iris glancing back and forth from your face to your lips. 

“You’re stunning.”

At long last love has arrived And I thank God I'm alive

A heat warms up your face, painting it blush. His warm hand gently tilts your head up, catching you off guard when he gently boops your nose. You sigh contently before resting your arms around his neck.

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off you

The both of you look down to your feet, slowly trying to properly dance to the song. You both are pretty bad at this. But you’re still grinning at each other like high-school lovers. He slipped.

I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night I love you, baby, trust in me when I say:

You laugh, this time it’s barely a dance. You hold his hands to spin around, hopping as you do so. The poor man is confused, but whatever you do is beautiful. And why wouldn’t he hop with the love of his life in their living room?

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay Oh, pretty baby, trust in me when I say:

He holds your hand up in the air as you spin, your head tilts to let your eyes linger on him for even a second more. Once you’ve finished a round, the two of you are grasping each other’s hands, trying to catch each other’s breaths – panting and giggling.

I need you, baby, when will you come my way?

You gasp! He lifts you up into the air, as if your weight means nothing to him! For a moment you feel like you’re floating, gravity pausing just for the two of you.

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

He embraces you, arms wrapping your whole being as the two of you fell onto the couch. Laughter decorating the picturesque moment. His face nuzzling perfectly in the crook of your neck as your hands rest beside his head.

And let me love you, baby, let me love you.

He leans into you, ever so softly kissing your lips as his fingers brush through your hair.

“Happy?” he gingerly asks.

“As I can be.”

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YIPPPEEE you got to the end!! have this if you'd like to see me really mess around w customising my fic. also if you see any redundancies,,, no you dont.

[scarthefangirl]

Quit treating me like a wuss!

Peter Parker x fem!wife!reader

Description: after Peter comes home a little scraped up, Y/N tries to help him clean up but he pushes her away.

Warnings: Pet names, Peters kinda mean at first, ends with fluff, poorly written, not edited, quickly written

Story type: drabble

A/N: I am just now starting into write fanfics again and I wrote this one up real quick so don't hate me bc it sucks <3

Y/N hummed along to her music as she silently swayed around the kitchen while making dinner. She couldn't help getting caught up in the moment. As she stirred her noodles on the stovetop and murmured quietly the song lyrics. The serenity was peaceful and helped Y/N feel calm after a stressful week. She continued to dance gently around as she made her dinner. She was feeling so content and happy, not a worry in the world at the moment.

But of course, the moment was fleeting.

As she made her plate of spaghetti she heard a loud crash from her bedroom in the apartment. She sighed, not a doubt in her mind what the cause of the sound was. She sat the pan full of sauce down and turned towards the bedroom down the hallway.

"Peter, is that you?" She calls. A grunt is the only reply she hears, but she would know that grunt anywhere. "I'm coming baby."

When she arrived in her room she wasn't surprised to be greeted with Peter already stripped to his underwear and sitting on her desks chair, clutching his rib cage on the right side. Y/N could already tell it was a knife wound. It didn't look to deep, but it was long and looked painful. He looked upset and grumpy, but who wouldn't be in this situation. It was normal for him to not be his normal peppy self after a fight.

"Come on out to the kitchen honey, I'll get you all patched up and you can have some spaghetti with me." Y/N said gently to her husband. offering him a hand to help him stand up. He slaps her hand away softly, surprising Y/N. It didn't hurt, but she was just surprised.

"I don't need your help I can patch it up myself. Can you just get the first aid kit and give it to me?" Peter struggled to stand up, cradling his side as he tried. It hurt Y/N to see his nose crinkle up as pain shot through her husband.

"Yeah sure. Its in the bathroom, you can go sit at the table by the kitchen I'll go get it." Y/N said solemnly, feeling like she should walk on egg shells not to make Peter more upset. Normally he accepts her help, even while grouchy. She wonders if she might've done something wrong but tries not to over think and be selfish. He is just hurting.

Y/N met him at the table and handed Peter the kit. "If you need help, Ill be eating spaghetti. Since you're fine on your own I'm not letting my food get cold. I'll be right across from you." So, she started eating the room temp pasta and cringed as she watched him try to patch the wound.

Every few seconds he'd either wince in pain or groan because he couldn't get the wound patched himself. He muttered cuss words under his breath as he continued trying. After ten minutes of the torture, Y/N had enough. She walk over to him and sat beside him, grabbing the supplies towards her.

"Here, you want to do it more like this," Y/N started to work her magic but Peter pushed her (not hard) away.

"Stop it!" He raised his voice, his volume was tipping down towards a yell, dangerously close to crossing the line.

"Peter! Stop what?" Y/N asked, clearly offended. She just wanted to help!

"Quit treating me like a little wuss. I can do it myself. I dont need your help. I don't need you." Peter shouted. Y/N felt a lump forming in the back of her throat, but she pushed it down as best she could.

"But Peter, I always help you patch up your wounds after patrol. Its basically a tradition." Y/N started, voice shaky while tears danced in her eyes.

"I don't need your help! Its embarrassing to have my wife clean up a tint little cut. Just be quiet and eat your dam food please." Peters yell slowly faded off at the end of his statement.

"I lost my appetite." Y/N's tears started to slip down her face quietly. She began to walk to their bedroom when Peter called,

"Clean off the plate and the kitchen if you're not gonna eat!"

"Since apparently you can do everything yourself, you can clean everything up!" She called back, anger boiling up in her chest. Why was he so pissed off?

As Y/N laid in bed for awhile thinking, and guilt started to eat at her. She was so dramatic and he didn't deserve that. He was out fighting crime and saving lives and comes home a little grumpy, so what! who was she to get mad at him? She didn't know what happened on patrol that night, he could have a reason for being so mad. She felt the guilt eating away at her and got up, waking out to the kitchen. Peter had grabbed clothes from the bathroom, a shirt and some pajama pants. Y/N always laid out clothes for him in the bathroom so he could shower right away and then change. Judging by his wet hair, he'd showered. Peter was currently starting the dishwasher. He closed it and turned around to face his wife.

"I'm sorry." they said in unison.

"Let me go first." Y/N said firmly and Peter nodded. She pulled him out to the tiny living room, having them both sit on the couch. "I love you so much and you go out every day and night to fight crime and I am so sorry that expect you to come home all peppy and stuff from that. I can't imagine how much it drains you and what those people do and say to you. I'm so sorry and if you need time alone after a long evening just tell me and ill respect it. I'd appreciate if next time you were a little kinder to me, but I will try and understand if you aren't." Y/N finished, looking Peter in the eyes. She looked so guilty and Peter felt bad.

"Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong but I appreciate what you said. Just because I have a long day doesn't give me any excuse to be mean to you. You do so much for me, and I need you. I really do. Tonight was literally so hard to patch up that cut myself. You're right, I just needed some alone time. But that was just a today thing honey, maybe every once in awhile I'll need some time again but I'll try to communicate better." Peter admired his wife lovingly as she hugged him.

"I love you so much Peter." Y/N smiled, pulling away from him. He leaned back on the couch and she cuddled up next to him.

"And I love you sweetheart." Peter kisses Y/N's head and grabs the remote, turning on the tv.

~

Tags:

// @themarvelprince // @misselsbells06 // @american-sataness // @cr0ssoverf4n4tic // @depressednoob // @cerene-ciderr // @leighanne03 // @inluvwithfictionalwomen // @singhfae // @mythixmagic // @itsyourboymicheal //

Stay tuned for more works (better ones) and if you want to see them check out my pinned post for a link to join my taglist!

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

Purrfection

<<Part 2 [can also be read as standalone] MASTERLIST

Anon ask: "Ahoy can you make a Purrfect Distraction part 3 where we finally kiss our bae?"

Summary: You're on an important mission, that's all you can say. Superheroes + needing to kiss to hide from bad guys (modified a bit)  Tags: Undercover missions, kissing A/N: sorry I'm a bit in the middle of some things rn so i hope the wait is worth it! :) enjoy!

Also Read on AO3

"Target at twelve o' clock." 

"Rodger that", the crisp static voice replies in your ear. 

You're on an important mission, that's all you can say. 

After quite sometime of vigilante-ing around Mumbattan with Spider-Man, you get recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D as agents-in-training. Tch, amateurs? Really? How many times have you kicked the Screwdriver crew's ass? And dealt with The Nightmare on a monthly basis. C'mon, SHIELD! 

Fury had initially doubted your credibility, but after witnessing your skills and a bonafide from Spidey himself, he appreciated you being on the good guy's side now. 

Personally, you hate being ordered around -which was why you worked solo; to be your own boss- but work was work and you were getting paid, (the SHIELD id card helped greatly in some sticky situations) so you were somewhat content. 

Pavitr... not so much. He hated the constant privacy breach and lack of freedom; 'its like being put on a leash, y/n!', he would often complain. 

And they wouldn't even let you guys on important missions! Atrocity, really. 

So it was like Diwali came early when Fury finally -although, begrudgingly- allowed you both to go on a mission! And without a senior agent on field to supervise you, which was the cherry on top! Pavitr was so overjoyed that he began cheering and dancing before you were even given details. 

The mission was boringly typical, though it excited you no less: pretend as high-class guests to retrieve a spectacular artefact, some tesseract thingy that glows blue, showcased at a charity event (which was actually more of a show off) hosted by multi-millionare bald businessman. The catch was that the man's son, a teenager, was there in his father's stead and he was in-charge of the invites, which meant the crowd was young. 

Though, what idiot dad would let such a priceless asset be lying around a teenager, you didn't know, but their failings is your advantage. (And Fury swore the teen had no idea about it, so taking it "should be a piece of cake." Easy for you to say, Mr. Eyepatch.) 

Pavitr comes out after changing into his attire -a silky black tux with a cute little bowtie- running his hand through his wavy obsidian locks. You can't help pinching his cheeks as you subtly give him an once over. Man, he looks handsome! 

You're dressed in an equal fashion but in more bland colours and stiletto heels. "For convenience", Fury says and you restrict from rolling your eyes. 

Donning the eyemasks, SHIELD takes you to the place of the event in a limo, with a couple senior agents staying back to monitor the target and your movements -and as a Plan C. You were too involved in not outright drooling at the luxurious interior to be offended. 

The car comes to a quiet halt and you go through your scripts, which is agonizingly simple: Peter (Pavitr) as the heir to a climate tech startup and you as his secretary. 

With final touches to your outfit, the pair of you step out. 

_______

You've successfully entered the premises without a hitch and Pavitr, or Peter, made his presence known. After chatting with a few company heirs and young CEOs, your eye catches the prize. 

"Queen at 10 o' clock", you say, seeing the tesseract. Pav nods at you from a few feet away: it's time to move. 

You're currently in a secluded area set up specifically for the tesseract, restricted only to the most esteemed guests and VIPs -of which you were neither. But the good news is that the lightning is dim and occupants are scattered across the room, which should give you enough leeway to sneak her out. 

"Eye on the ball", Spider-Man's smooth voice rings in your ear. How he is still cheery, you'll never know. "Black Cat, do you copy?" 

"Rodger that." 

You've yet to meet the host himself, which is custom, but you thought you could make away with the tesseract before and not cause a scene. What if he dedeuced you were spies? What if he realized he never invited you? Fury hadn't let you see a pic of him beforehand either, so what if you've passed by him without knowing? Oblivious of the host himself? Now, that was bound to cause a scene. 

Crossing your fingers, you join your "boss" and saunteer behind a confident Pavitr, who strides in like he owns the place. It works; the bodyguards seem a bit intimidated despite their deadpan stare eventhough Pav is very much smiling. 

"Keep moving. Queen at ten steps, north." 

"I see her." Pavitr smirks into the camouflaged bluetooth, whispering excitedly, "Got i-" 

"Alert! Host approaching at 3 o' clock."

You panic, though your face is set straight, heart thumping loudly in your chest and your palm turns sweaty. Pavitr is frozen with shock as he sees the boy in white suit and red tie from a distance. 

"What the-!", Pav swears under his breath. A sweat bead rolls down the side of his forehead as he pulls you aside, backing into a dim corner. "That's Hari Oberoi, my best friend!" 

Shit shit shit! If he catches Pavitr snooping around his house on a striclty business party... 

A frantic crisp whisper echoes urgently through the bluetooth. "S@&#*! We've been compromised. Abort! Mission abort-", it cuts off abruptly with the sound of a revving engine, leaving you two to your own devices. Great, just great. 

This is too much pressure for a simple ex-cat burglar like you. 

Suddenly, as if the Universe itself wanted you to escape, you get an idea and pull Spider-Man through the restroom door behind you. Only once inside does your breath return. 

The releif on your faces doesn't stay long, because Hari Oberoi is knocking on the door a few seconds after. The lock clicks open, golden handle curving down in a squeak. 

As quick as a flash, Pavitr cups your face and surges forward, connecting your lips in a full kiss. You freeze in shock, not even moving as he caresses your cheek, thumb rubbing circles as he coaxes your mouth relax. You body goes into autopilot and reciprocates the kiss, leaning into him, fingers tangling in his soft wavy hair as his hands seek your waist. 

Fireworks burst in your veins, every nerve coming alive. His lips are so so soft, just like you imagined. 

Hari evidently has witnessed your romantic moment, judging from the soft 'whoah, sorry!' you hear before a sharp resounding click of the door being shut. 

Forever has passed when Pavitr pulls away for air, your lips chasing his before he returns with a short kiss. You look into his deep brown eyes, catching your racing breath. 

"Pav, that was.." 

His eyes are still sparkling. "..Amazing"

____

The annoying static voice sounds once you're safely out of the premises, your target sitting in your palm obediently. "Spider, cat, do you copy?" 

Pav clears his throat and answers. "Rodger that, sir. The Queen is dead." 

Code for 'we've got the prize.'

A static silence ensues. And then, a slightly amused, "Long live the king."

Code for 'get your asses back to HQ safely. We're not sorry for ditching you.' 

______

[Later] 

"Uh-huh. And how, exaclty, did you take her?", Fury asks with his resident face of disapproval as he listens intently. 

"Well", Pav says, stretching his arms and breaking his knuckles for effect as he spins a tale, "after your agents abandoned us, Y/n and I snuck into the vents which we painstaking crawled through, and by the power of my amazing webs, I snatched it when they weren't looking. The artefact teleported us outside." 

No one can condone nor object your statements due to lack of witness and evidence against you. Plus, they did abandon you guys.

You giggle, saluting the one-eyed director who dismisses you and walk out onto the platform of the helicarrier.

"Ahem..", you clear your throat when you finally get some privacy, "about the kiss.." 

The pink of the sunset paints his cheeks, the yellow of the evening glowing behind him. Pavitr blushes, his dimples deepening and god, if he isn't positively ethereal right now! 

"Hmm..", he bites his lip, eyes sparkling, "I'm not sure we did it right. We should do it again. What do you say?" 

There was much to talk about: where you guys stand, what relationship you have and, of course, feelings.. but all that is secondary. Right now, there's only one thing in your mind. 

"Yeah", you agree as he pulls you closer, noses touching, "We should do it again." 

[gcthvile]

Spider-boy, King of Thieves.

summary: the lines blur as rei stark, the king of thieves, and his archenemy, peter parker or spider-man, join forces against a new threat. their alliance sparks forbidden desires challenging longtime roles. as loyalties shift amid the shadows of a power struggle, will a deception unravel or ignite something far more dangerous in the city that never sleeps?

couple: rei stark (oc) x peter parker

warnings: slightly suggestive content towards the end

fandom: marvel

the streets of new york echoed with the sounds of conflict once more. web and repulsor blasts lit up the night as the familiar figures of spideran and the king danced their waltz of evasion and attack.

"giving up yet, your highness?" taunted spider-man as he flipped out of the way of a repulsor beam.

rei chuckled darkly as his armor hovered nearby. "not a chance, bug. i've only just begun!"

they launched back into the fray, exchanging blows both physical and verbal. over time, their fights had fallen into a practiced ritual - testing skills and wits without intent to seriously harm. the adrenaline rush and challenge was what kept drawing them together, time and again.

tonight, it seemed their dance was drawing to a close once peter disarmed rei with a well-placed web shot. "nice try, stark. i'd say your little heist attempt is a failure."

rei scowled up at him from the ground, but it lacked venom. a glint of amusement shone in his eyes. "you win this round, bug. though I'll be back to try again, so don't get too comfortable."

peter smirked behind his mask. "i look forward to it, your majesty." he shot a web and swung off into the night.

their little games were becoming dangerously entertaining. but neither could have predicted the high stakes clash just over the horizon that would force them to work as a team. and uncover hidden dynamics neither expected...

rumblings of unrest had been stirring in the underbelly of the city for weeks. a new power was rising, one far more ruthless and reckless than even the king. at first, it was little things - businesses "sold" under duress, territories quietly seized.

but then the corpses started appearing, bearing signs of savage brutality. anyone who dared resist this mysterious new force met grisly ends. word on the streets hinted at a shadow organization flooding the streets with highly dangerous weapons.

for rei, it represented the first real threat to his authority since taking the throne. spies reported this new gang, led by a man only known as vulture, aimed to topple all established powers to rule unchallenged through fear.

peter, meanwhile, began encountering vulture's weapons during nightly patrols. powerful, unregulated explosives and firearms unlike anything he'd seen before. bodies left in his wake told of a viciousness that made even seasoned criminals blanch.

both started piecing the clues together. they realized this was bigger than a simple turf war, and neither could hope to defeat such a relentless enemy acting alone. for the sake of the city, a temporary alliance may be the only way to ensure its survival...and theirs.

but first, they'd need to overcome their pride and distrust. a meeting would need to be arranged, despite the personal animosity between them. the fate of new york demanded it - if they didn't unite to stop vulture, he would destroy them all.

"to what do i owe the displeasure, spider-man?" rei drawled as peter swung into the deserted warehouse.

peter pushed back his growing annoyance. this was important. "we need to talk, stark. there's a new threat-"

"so I've heard," interrupted rei lazily from where he lounged. "this vulture seems to be moving in on my operations. quite rude of him, really."

"this is serious," insisted peter. "he's already killed dozens. we can't keep butting heads with each other if he means to destroy everything."

rei inspected his nails disinterestedly. "and why should I care what happens to you and this city? as long as my empire remains intact, what do I owe these people?"

peter balled his fists, struggling to remain calm. "we both know you don't really mean that. deep down you do have a code, as twisted as it is." he took a slow breath. "we need to team up, like it or not. It's our only chance."

rei arched a sculpted brow, finally deigning to look at him fully. "work with the itsy bitsy spider? I think not. give me one good reason I shouldn't leave you for the vultures, hmm?"

"because together we stand a chance," said peter, meeting that flinty gaze steadily. "but divided, we both fall. your call, stark. what's it going to be - ally or enemy?"

rei tapped his chin thoughtfully, making a show of considering peter's proposal.

"you make a fair point, as loathe as I am to admit it," he conceded at last. "very well, it seems we have no other choice. an alliance - for now."

"wonderful," said peter dryly. "now what's our next move against vulture?"

"patience, bug. strategizing takes time, not that a simpleton like you would understand." rei smirked, earning a glare. "vulture has been frustratingly elusive so far. we'll need to draw him out."

"any ideas how?" challenged peter.

a wicked gleam entered rei's eyes. "as a matter of fact, I believe I have the perfect bait...you."

peter blinked in surprise. "me? why would he be interested in-"

"you're the lone thorn in his side so far, spider. taking you out of the picture would clear a major obstacle." rei circled lazily, scanning leter up and down in a way that made him feel distinctly prey-like.

"and how do you propose using me as bait, exactly?" asked peter suspiciously.

rei's smile was all sharp teeth. "leave the details to me, bugaboo. all you need to do is play your part when the time comes. unless you'd rather I find...alternative motivation?"

peter repressed a shiver. working with rei stark was sure to be a dangerous game indeed.

the time for planning had passed. rei's elaborate scheme was primed, and now it was time for peter to play his part as bait.

"you're sure this will work?" asked peter, not for the first time. a lingering shred of self-preservation made him hesitant.

rei rolled his eyes as he fitted a tracer to peter's suit. "for the last time, yes. now stop fidgeting." his touch lingered on peter's hip, smirking at the sharp inhale it drew.

peter scowled, slapping his hand away. "focus, stark."

"oh, i am." rei's gaze gleamed with intention as he stepped back. "ready when you are, bug. go make yourself a tantalizing target for our feathered friend."

with an uneasy glance at rei, peter swung off into the dusk. he wasn't sure which role made him more nervous - bait, or whatever game rei seemed determined to drag him into. pushing those thoughts aside, he started stirring up trouble, making himself a noisy target.

it didn't take long before he sensed eyes upon him. a looming figure swooped down and attacks rained - but these he barely had to dodge. vulture had taken the bait, and rei was no doubt tracking their movement.

sure enough, when peter faked capture to lure vulture to a secluded spot, rei was waiting with weapons primed. their unlikely alliance sprang into coordinated attack, catching vulture utterly off guard between spider and thief.

in minutes, the fearsome villain lay defeated at their feet. peter grinned at rei in flushed triumph, surprised by how natural their teamwork had felt. but the king of thieves seemed far more interested in claiming his reward...

rei stepped closer to peter, a triumphant smirk curving his lips. "well done, spider. it seems our partnership was fruitful after all."

"yeah, i suppose teaming up wasn't so bad." peter felt a nervous flutter as rei's hand came up to grasp his arm. "so...i guess our business is concluded?"

"concluded?" rei laughed softly. "sweetheart, the night is young. and I believe a reward is in order for my invaluable bait."

before peter could react, rei tugged him into a kiss. his lips were firm yet surprisingly gentle against peter's astonished mouth. electric heat shot through peter's veins as he kissed back without thinking.

when they parted, peter stared wide-eyed. "rei, i...we can't. you're a criminal, i'm a hero."

rei only smiled wickedly. "and yet, did we not just work marvelously as a team? your morals seem rather flexible when it suits you, little spider." He nuzzled peter's jaw, drawing a shiver.

"maybe..." peter wavered, torn between duty and the undeniable spark between them. could he allow himself this, even if just for one night? rei made a compelling case, as always.

rei sensed his surrender. "come home with me, sweetheart. i'll show you pleasures unlike any good girl or boy could offer." his voice dropped to a sinful purr. "let's see how far that flexibility can take you..."

against all better judgment, peter found himself saying "okay." just for one night...

what began as a one night encounter blossomed into something deeper for peter and rei against all odds. somehow, their partnership in defeating vulture had unlocked an undeniable connection between them.

where once they were enemies, now they fell into an intricate dance - fighting crime during the day as their alter egos, only to come together under cover of darkness in heated embraces. rei continued his schemes, but turned his ambition towards less harmful targets at peter's insistence.

their relationship defied definition. they were allies in some ways, antagonists in others, and something altogether softer and needier when alone. rei's lust for challenge and thrill now extended to pleasing peter as much as himself.

peter knew he should end this dance with the king of thieves. but there was solace and pleasure in rei's arms unlike anything he found elsewhere. and for all his notorious deeds, rei proved fiercely devoted and protective of what was his behind closed doors.

somehow, against every expectation, their partnership worked. they pushed and challenged one another in turn, inspiring each to explore grey areas of their natures neither knew existed. new york's protector and its most cunning criminal formed an unlikely balance.

and so the dance continued between spider-man and his king, weaving a delicate equilibrium through the streets of their city by night while keeping up appearances as adversaries by day. their relationship survived through want and compromise - a testament to what could emerge when unexpected pieces aligned.

there we go, hope you'll like it!

@jackiequick @missstrawbs2001 @blueboirick @meiramel @cherrysft

[aladaylessecondblog]

fire in his touch (gortash x tav pt. 18)

Author's Note: Fluff, oral, edging, orgasm delay

---------------------------

She was thinking he'd want to bed her, but Tav had ended up taking a nap beside Gortash, who remarked he had nothing that could not be delayed a few hours. He'd curled up with his head on her chest and gone right to sleep with her stroking his hair.

He was snoring like hell, but he was deeply, deeply asleep.

And Tav had stared up at the ceiling, wondering how she had gotten to this point, as she had the tendency to do now and then. How had things gone so wrong...or rather, so right?

That first night, maybe, telling him she intended to honor her vows. She'd been in so much pain she just wanted to forget...and he had been a good lover, at least. It was easy to simply take direction and not think, because thinking meant being alone with her thoughts, and...

...and then he'd kept right on being smarmy and charming and doing nothing she had expected him to. A whisper in the ear at dinner when everyone could see them, being asked to dance a few times so their marriage looked the happy one--and so many false looks of longing that she'd begun to wish he'd stop so she didn't begin to fall for the act. But she had. The others were beginning to write more often, and she'd even seen Shadowheart on a recent trip, but...it felt almost too late. The divide caused by their early absence couldn't be fixed so quickly.

But the thing that had begun to grow between her and Gortash - it hadn't been much early, just...animal attraction, in a way. Despite his claim he didn't have the typical man's need for frequent sex it had increased in frequency when she fell pregnant, and only got better over time. He seemed to revel in her cries of passion, in the fact that he was the one wringing them from her. Perhaps some notion about having the nauseatingly good-hearted hero of Baldur's Gate screaming for him...

And for her, maybe it'd been that he was good and kept BEING good, at least to her...once they'd smoothed over their divide after Cald, it had all just seemed to fall into place. He was a terrible man, but a good husband and a good father, and to see it all just...

There was joy in being the only one to see this. It was like a gift from above, that she did this to him...for him.

Gortash shifted slightly, and one arm shifted up and over her belly. He sighed softly, and she felt her heart flutter again.

Perhaps she could not fix him, exactly, but she could soften him. To tame him entirely would remove half the appeal, after all. Gortash would not be the same man were he a beacon of light and kindness. The edges were blunted, and that was enough, to know they wouldn't harm her. That he was choosing not to.

She lay back and fell into her trance, still pondering.

---------------------------

A couple hours later, Tav felt Gortash waking, and she lifted her head to look as he seemed to be wiping the side of his face.

"Something wrong?"

"You're leaking."

"I'm still nursing your son, my lord," she joked, "I have the wet nurse, but...there's nothing that makes me feel quite as motherly as feeding him myself."

Frankly, she hadn't expected to enjoy the act so much. The soft contentment that resulted when she held Cald and fed him herself, rocking in the chair and watched that dear little face as she nourished him.

Him, her son, the dearest little thing that she could see

"And when will this stop?" Gortash didn't sound upset, more curious. He was now sitting up and looking over her breasts as he slipped on his rings.

"When I stop nursing him. Well not right away...but..."

She petered out when she saw the devious look he was giving her chest.

"Is it just that you like staring at my tits, or..."

"Well that, yes, and..." Gortash reached down to grope at one of her breasts, seeming amused by the slight dampness that resulted. He pulled his hand up to his lips and gave the milk a slight taste. "You're sweet, if you wanted to know."

"I can think of something sweeter," Tav gave what she hoped was an enticing grin, and parted her legs just slightly.

"Wicked woman," he joked, and leaned down to plant a brief kiss on her lips, "If I let myself give in to your temptations, we'll have quite a few people wondering why we wasted all day in bed."

"Since when do kings care about those beneath them?"

She'd moved up just enough to whisper the words in his ear. The slightest shiver that resulted had her grinning.

"Go about your business, your grace. But remember that your queen needs tending too."

She turned away, thinking to get dressed, but no sooner had she swung her legs over the side of the bed than Gortash had pulled her back and into his lap.

"This is the disadvantage, I see," he said, "Of getting to know one's wife. She knows exactly which switches to pull."

"And how is that a disadvantage exactly?" Tav spoke as innocently as she could manage. "It makes finding pleasure between us much easier. Perhaps next time we shall pretend you have captured the do-gooding leader of some ragtag band of adventurers."

"Now that I like the sound of." There was a nip at her ear, and a slight clench of his hands as they moved down to keep her legs open. "And this leader has been quite a thorn in my side...or could be."

"And what shall you do with her, now you have trapped her in your bed?"

Gods, it was so easy to please this man. Banites had such simple pleasures.

One hand moved gently up to a breast, while the other dipped lower.

"Indulge, of course, as I've wanted to since laying eyes on her. So decent, so heroic...SOMEONE must ruin her, and apparently that duty falls to me."

"She is far from maiden, you know." Tav took in a sharp breath when two of Gortash's fingers spread and then started to probe at her cunt. "Thinking she may lose herself to the tadpole at any moment...has...has made her rather...open..."

"Did she hope for this, then?" his voice growled in her ear.

"She enjoys the touch of a man who knows what he wants...and what to do with what he's got."

It was firm and still tender, the way his hands moved over her, and gods how she was enjoying it.

"But perhaps the archduke is not so eager to use what he has?"

"The archduke merely wishes to have this hero writhing in his arms...and to remind her that the practiced hand can be just as pleasurable as a cock."

His left hand moved back up, and the gauntleted right one went down to take its place. Cool metal traced around her damp center, moved up, pressed down--

Another sharp breath.

"He has never been the sort of man to have much of a carnal appetite...he has more important things to do than indulge such base urges." The tip of one of those metal claws toyed briefly with her clit in an exploratory way before settling into a slow but mercilessly steady pace. "But the hero has...awakened the beast, we might say."

"Why the hero? Why not some noble maiden--who I am sure would have happily signed up to be ruined?"

"Empty-headed fools, the lot of them." There was a smirk when she stifled a moan. "But this hero..."

He was silent for anther minute or two, hand moving steadily, pressing, pinching, stroking, but never quite letting Tav reach climax.

When he drew his hand back it was all she could do not to pull it back.

"I do have to ensure that pesky do-gooders don't retain too much power over me, you know."

She was about to speak--to say something playfully cutting about how he couldn't expect her to go untended, or something more wanton, begging him to stop teasing...

But she didn't have time. Gortash's gauntleted hand grabbed hold of one of her own and moved it down, between her legs. His voice was a growl against her jaw, and only made it all worse when he began to stroke her again. This time with her own hand, held tightly beneath his own.

"This hero craves a strong master, and that is exactly what she shall get."

He pressed two of her fingers lower, then brought them back up to circle around her clit again. There was a brief moan--and then his other hand raised, pushing her head forward to let him swallow her moans in a kiss.

His hand pushed hers faster, and for a moment he let her lean back--presumably to see the hazy, pleasured look in her eyes. The one she saw in return was clear - he was smug, utterly satisfied at how thoroughly she was coming apart under his hands.

And then, just as suddenly, he stopped.

"What happened to not having all day to lay about?" Tav finally broke character. Another denial, ANOTHER ONE, why did he have to do this? She was squirming in his arms but it did her no good. "At this rate--"

"On the bed," Gortash whispered in her ear, and then in a firmer voice added, "On your back. Now."

She obeyed, bringing her knees up, spreading them when he gestured. She thought this might finally be the moment he ended the game--she could see his cock there before her, within reach, hard and ready. But he didn't, though he did tease her a bit by grinding it over her clit.

"Enver, you--"

A deep kiss silenced her protest. But after indulging it only a few seconds he drew back and kissed his way down her neck. Then her chest, stopping briefly to lap at one of her nipples, to tease a bit of milk from it. Then lower, over her belly, and her legs were moved over his shoulders.

"You will finish only when I allow it. Do you understand?"

"I--"

"DO you?"

"Y-yes," Tav squirmed. "Just--please--"

It would be well worth it, she knew it would be, but in the moment it was always a heavenly agony. To be so close...so achingly close, and to be denied...

In the same way as he seemed to joke that she knew what levers to pull for him, the same was true in turn. He knew just what she wanted, and just how to give it.

That mop of dark hair settled between her legs and a moment later ecstasy leaped in her gut as Gortash's eager tongue flicked over her clit. He moved down, pressing it inside her--she could feel the smirk when a wanton moan tore from her lips--and then moved back up again.

Just the slightest bit of suction, and climax was on the edge again.

"Enver, please..." she begged, "Please, let me..."

She knew he wanted to hear it, knew he wanted her begging until he'd decided she'd been a good little hero and deserved to finish. Or some rot like that.

But he lifted his head, moved up, and let her see what she'd been unable to before.

That he was stroking himself.

"You--"

"You would dearly love to be on it, wouldn't you?" That roguish, easy smile spread across his face, and his hand moved over his cock more and more quickly. "Stay down and I'll let you."

His gauntleted hand moved down, toying with her only long enough to keep her fire stoked, but not to satisfy it entirely. A strangled groan--she could tell he was close, and spread her legs a bit more, inviting him closer.

It didn't work.

Gortash's expression was steady, focused--until she reached up to touch him. Another groan and his expression shifted into one far more maniacal...

The second her hand touched his cock he peaked. His seed spilled right into her hand, covering her palm in its sticky whiteness. She grumbled, wiped it off on the blanket beneath her, and looked back up.

"I told you, Tav, but you didn't listen. Now you'll have to wait even longer." To his credit Gortash kept the other hand moving. But now it was much, much slower.

Ten minutes elapsed in this manner--the slow stroke of his cool gauntlet over her soaked heat, the sight of his softened cock gradually rising to hardness again. The low burning ember of desire that he never let go completely out.

"Just look at you," he teased, "My dear Tav, writhing, desperate..."

"What do you want?" she asked, gyrating her hips up when his fingers dipped down. "Just tell me. Tell me, and I'll give it to you, just let me--"

"What do I want?"

His hand moved back, but he went down, his cock hard again, its tip just barely pressing into her cunt. It was worse than not having it at all.

"Nothing you haven't already given me, my queen."

And with a kiss that had her sampling the sweet tang of her cunt along with Gortash's own taste, he thrust forward and finally filled her. He braced himself on his elbows, pulling back just enough to let their eyes meet again. This time he said nothing when she moved, in fact he seemed to welcome the clench of her hands on his side, the rake of her nails down his back.

"If you leave me hanging again--" She half-snarled and wrapped her legs around him, struck suddenly wordless by another moan.

"That's what I like to hear," Gortash grinned, "I love the sound of your pleading, but threats work too. In fact...I find them rather exciting."

Her nail clenched against his shoulderblades, and feeling the familiar climb in her gut again, Tav growled out, "Finish me--breed me--or I'm going to strangle you."

It came from nowhere and for just a moment she worried it might be too much.

It wasn't.

Far from thinking it too violent, it seemed to excite Gortash. His thrusts were harder, faster, deeper, and she wondered for a brief moment where exactly he got the liking for threats from.

"I could never deny such an eager request."

Another thrust, another burst of lusty heat.

"Enver," she called out breathlessly, "Enver..."

The pleasure plateaued, and the first wave crested, broke--"ENVER, YES--"

She shattered beneath him, screamed out her pleasure as ecstasy burned through her body and left her shaking.

"Now," his stubbled cheek scratched briefly against her smooth one as he whispered, "I believe...you asked for..."

A loud groan right in her ear, a pulse, and this time that wet heat spilled inside her.

"There," Gortash spoke breathlessly as the afterglow rose to claim them, "I've done my job. Are you satisfied, or shall we have to be even more late?"

"Get off me, you big lug," she gave a little laugh, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "You did this all on your own."

"You know you love it."

"I do," she said, wrapping him in a brief hug.

---------------------------------------

Tav supposed it was inevitable...she was honestly surprised that it had taken this long. A few weeks had passed since she and Gortash had made their quiet declarations to one another, and despite that those weeks were blissful...disapproval lingered in the back of her mind.

You cannot serve two masters.

She had never received pushback from Ilmater about Silvanus - their spheres might be different, but were not altogether incompatible, and her ability to produce food and clean water served his purpose of aiding the sick and hungry well.

But Bane was a different beast altogether. All the Dead Three were his enemies, their values stood in opposition to his own.

It was unavoidable, this moment. This day.

You claim to be of my ilk and you serve now the worst of the lot.

Tav knelt before the altar, for once alone in the room, and for a moment could not figure out what to say. She finally settled for, "Why have you allowed me to continue to work in your name despite this? Why have you not shown me your anger?"

She knew she deserved it, frankly. In the beginning it was one thing--

No, the voice said, The beginning was no different than now. You linked yourself to a tyrant, to a doer of evil. The desire to do good does not override the evil done around it. The suffering Bane's Chosen endured in his youth does not discharge your duty to banish evil in all its forms.

There was a pause.

But you have before you now an opportunity.

"An opportunity, my lord?"

Two gods, two mutually exclusive goals. That part was easy to figure out.

"I can try to shift his view, but...he is more inclined to his aims now than he ever has been before. But--"

What wasn't so simple was how horribly things could go if Bane got the idea that she was no longer so dedicated.

And my doting husband, Tav thought, would become rapidly less so. That she did not doubt, and a sting soon followed. It would be so easy to lose what she had only just found.

"It is good to see the archduchess at prayer." A voice spoke suddenly behind her, and she turned to see--Sister Rose. "Though you clothe yourself in silk and pearls at least you know you cannot dress so before the altar of the God on the Rack."

Tav stiffened. She had never quite gotten on well with Sister Rose, certainly not after all the blame laid on the refugees for the murders. And the woman had not much liked the ease with which she had been accepted into the temple.

But she'd never been too outwardly rude.

"It is only at the my lord husband's request that I dress with any sort of finery," she replied. "I would prefer to be plain, but he wishes me to look my rank."

Rose walked up and stood, though did not kneel, before the altar.

"Hence the crown."

Then she moved away, into the back room where Father Lorgan's body had once lay.

No sooner had that door closed, than the front one opened.

Tav stayed on her knees, trying to regain the attention that had been on her. How could she change Gortash's mind?

"Were we not in a temple," her husband's voice sounded off, "I would show you exactly how pleased I am to find you on your knees."

"Behave, love," she returned with a slight bit of humor in her voice.

"Why? You follow him no more than I do."

She opened her eyes. A shadow, raised, was being cast on the altar--

Tav whipped around and got to her feet just in time to avoid the strike of the knife in Enver's hands.

No.

No, she knew--

The mad wide grin stayed even as her husband's features faded into those of a changeling.

[agniyagrif]

look . Listen to me funny shape girl I came to you initially for your funny jrwi shapes but now I NEED to hear about your OCs. Do you understand I Am locked in I Am interested. Any details you have on any of them I Would love to hear about. You've lured me in with your strange shapes and captivating ideas and now I would Like to hear your Homemade Character Thoughts pretty pretty please /nf

Ah that's sweet) Ah)))

I planned to write about them something anyway BUT SINCE YOU ASKING WELL- I now just have to oooh haha)

Well ok, I have many ocs because I like different creatures i draw and i just HAVE TO give them some personality and then I don't want to just throw them away(( (unless like... I forget about them of course haha)

Recently I remembered about my old Minecraft pony ocs that i wanted to turn into humans or something and so i did it. I turned them into creatures, gave them again some personality because they didn't have much and put them at my setting Omniplan where I put most of my ocs now because this setting just build for that.

Anyway here they go

I posted them at like... Other... Site... You know. BUT HERE I CAN TALK ABOUT THEM MORE HEHE! I call them Sitcom Five because I thought they had such... Vibes. Don't know, maybe they don't actually or won't in the future but I like the name anyway)

OKAY I'm putting more info under here)))

Oh no that's a lot of text... oh no what have i doneeee...

Also cw: S E X (i just mention that it exists and that's all haha. I for some reason feel the need to say that idk... I'm- I'm stupid ok?)

So here some general info about them and maybe later I will write more) because I have more)

These five (Lutic not with them)... People, let's just say people, live together at a house near woods... 30 minutes(?) away from local town. Half of them aren't very social and all of them quite content with living away from town, just with this group. Also none of them are local. Well... They live here so they are? I mean none of them were born there, in town.

So first, Edvin. He's the owner of the house. This place used to be maybe a part of town? There are some ruins of houses around them but nobody lives there. Edvin got this house maybe from his relatives. He fixed it and since he didn't need much and house was too big to just live alone in it he decided to rent out rooms. And don't know how much time passed but Carrot, Alex and Gleam became permanent residents of the house. And recently Peter moved in.

So Edvin. He's the oldest, serious and hardworking. Used to be a sailor (because many lizard folk are sailors and well I don't have anything original for his background). He works as blacksmith in the town or take some other physical work. Sends money to the family. Ah... Old mother and his sister. (If i had nickel for every lizard man i had that sends money to his sister i would have two nickels. Idk why i don't wanna think about itANYWAY) He loves to make weapons, make them like pretty and stuff like light knives with elegant handles and engravings on blades. Some masterpiece to be proud of. But unfortunately he doesn't get such orders often. So he just works all day and then sleeps at home.

Next Carrot) She's a siren which in my setting are a kind of bird people who have wings at hands. They also stereotypically like... Hedonistic? Is it the right word? Probably not... Don't bother about stuff, live to have fun and enjoy pleasures. Cheerful, carefree, colorful birds. And well Carrot is stereotypical siren. She likes gardening and cooking. She loves to bake and sometimes sells goods in the town. She also often cooks for others in the house. Ah... She's vegetarian. She probably leaves the house during winter, flies to some warm place. She's never sad. She likes to drink sometimes, sing, dance, laugh and sleep around.

Alex is often annoyed by her.

Alex is another bird person in the house but this time he's an avian which in setting are bird people with wings on their back. His mother is avian and his father is siren. So he has some siren traits in his character. He's also my favourite eugh... He almost never leaves house by which i mean he dislikes to go to town and talk to people there. Any people other then his neighbours to which he's used to. He kinda... Ah... Selfish? A thoughtless person? By which I mean he often doesn't think about other people if they're not in front of him. He doesn't even writes to his mother although he does love her, she's a good woman. He's like... Not malicious, but yeah. Just in his own world i guess. And his world right now is this house. He's a mechanic(?) engineer (?) he likes to work on different machines. Maybe he makes some toys or fixes clocks and stuff or even repairs local robots (YEAH THERE ARE ROBOTS IN THE SETTING I KNOW I KNOW SHUT UP). He likes to do that.

Speaking of his siren ahhhh side... Well maybe it's ehhh... Presented(?) in his thoughtlessness. But it's also presented in him being fucking horny. He really annoyed by this because it results in intrusive thoughts which doesn't help with him being already quite awkward. He overthinks stuff a lot sometimes too. (I don't actually know what is cause and what is the result here so maybe I'm wrong somewhere here anyway) He tries to fight(?) it. Like he does physical exercises, focuses on work, drinks some... Stuff idk that Carrot recommends him. And he gets really annoyed at Carrot after she tells him to just relax about that. He probably also jealous of her because he also wants to just not care about that.

how dare that shithead get 2 paragraphs??? Well it's because he's my favourite anyway...

Gleam ah... She's stone demon. (Nothing religious just people with horns) :') i have very little info about her... I feel guilty. I'm sure, I'll fix it sometime later. She often is not at home but she pays and Edvin is content with that. But they end up giving her room to the new resident (Peter) because she didn't actually even used her room. So... She likes to cause chaos? Maybe she does something illegal when she's away or maybe she saves kittens(probably not). She doesn't talk about it anyway so i don't even have to think about Haha!) I'm kidding... Well yeah. Chaos. She likes to break and burn stuff and fight. That's what she does. And then she comes home and just sits as a rock (ha) while Carrot rambles and laughs about her day to her. They are girl friends) not girlfriends though( because Carrot doesn't want any commitment. But yeah they like to hang out together. Kinda fun dynamic I think) that's all about her :' | maybe she likes to bully Alex by breaking his stuff... That dynamic was in their pony versions, so...

Next Peter)))) he's bard. He has a guitar or something similar I'll think about that. He used to travel around the land before he settled here. He goes to town to play and get some money. Chill guy, kind and hard to get angry. Likes to chew grass and lay on it under warm sun. The most sociable and caring among them. Well i guess Carrot is quite sociable too... Anyway, everyone likes him just because he's so nice and chill. Just a ray of sunshine anywhere he goes. Ah... I need to say something negative about him... Or it's a boring character... Not quite negative but maybe he doesn't have any plans for the future? He doesn't have anything going on in his life right now? Maybe he's not content with his music? Like everyone likes it, it sounds nice. Nice enough to earn money. But that's all. Maybe he wants it to be more impactful, maybe it's not good enough. Or it seems to never be good enough for him. Maybe it makes him sad but he doesn't want to show it to others so he just smiles and keeps being caring ray of sunshine.

Heeeyyy... What is this depressing shit doing in my funny ocs hey... I made them to do funny loser things haha and make out. It's time to end before i care about them too much. Haha)

I had a thought to make him a pushover... Well... He's kinda? He doesn't say no a lot, when it comes to help or just some activity and he can tolerate even some quite rude behaviour towards him but it's because well he just goes with a flow, likes to help or if we talking about rudeness he used to travel a lot and well why he would start a conflict with a person if he goes away the next day? So he just became used to just be quiet and go away if he doesn't feel comfortable and then forget about this experience. But he does have some boundaries and he will tell about them if he can't leave. He can stand up for himself if he needs to. But he rather stand up for his friends thought when it comes to it.

Ok and Lutic) She's Edvin's little sister. She's a bright and kind girl. Likes flowers and cute animals and not very cute ones, like insects (it's not an animaSHUT UP OK I'M TRYING). Everyone in the house loves her like she's their own little sister and everyone behaves their best when she visits and entertain her as they can. They are so normal that Edvin is kinda surprised and frustrated about that. But it's a good thing so he can't even get mad about it. It's just funny yeah.

EGH I WANTED TO WRITE A LITTLE:'/

ANYWAY

So if you read that, the person who is reading it. You now can look at different shitty and not shitty pictures i have of them)

This is about Lutic visiting

Both birds find Peter attractive. But like also... Well Edvin said that already...

And dynamics) Girls being friends and bros being bros. Though... Now i draw and write a lot of situations with Alex being awkward dumbass. But they do hang out together. Because Alex finds Peter cool (and ghm attractive...) and also he doesn't demand from birdman any commitment as a friend and Peter is chill and likes to hang out.

I wanted to make this kind of a... Things with them for fun but couldn't find any good enough. So i have only this. Idk I googled it or found on Pinterest, I'm sorry idk

GIGGLES HAHA... WELL... IT'S FUN TO PUSH CHARACTERS ON EACH OTHER HAHA. IT'S LIKE A CLASSIC OR STH (I'm cringe.) Anyway it's not canon... Well... I just tried to write a situation but it's not quite what i wanted. HE WOULD NOT FUCKING KISS HIM LIKE THAT i know, it's canon but it's one of the Alex's modest dreams

Just a little thing

Again. Guess my favourite.

Alex probably does have a body pillow if they have them in the setting idk... He also certainly have some magazines with pretty bird ladies and big hot (beast) man. Totally reads them "for the plot and characters and like relationships and stuff" Carrot teases him about that and he HATES her for that(((

Horny birds. I sympathise with Alex but I also will call him a loser and do want to strangle him and throw into the wall.

Somehow too much gays so I'm apologising even if you probably don't care about that.

I clearly have a favourite guy and favourite relationships... Well... I'm not really a good ocs owner. I just want to draw them kissing or something and haha funny

IT ENDED I LIKED TO WRITE ABOUT THEM THANKS:)

maybe i write more if i have at least 1 picture to put above it...

[amethystunarmed]

It Can't Be Undone Chapter 2

Word Count: 4,795 Chapter 1 Ao3 Link Detailed CW on AO3

When he realized what the Lords were asking Steph to do, Peter hadn't thought it was much of a choice. If it was him or Steph, it wasn't going to be Steph. And part of it made sense, didn't it? He and Richie and Ruth were a unit. Ted called them pack animals, and stopped bothering to ask if they were coming over when he picked up Peter from school. They were inseparable.

So doesn't it make sense he would follow them here, too?

As he waits there, on his knees, breath illuminated by the stadium lights, he wonders if one of the Lords in Black will wear him, the next time they're summoned. 

Probably the yellow bastard.

“I’m ready,” he tells Steph, even though he isn’t. 

The gun goes off and Peter doesn't die and for a moment, Peter feels disappointed. Then Max Jägerman is breaking his fucking arm and he doesn't have time to feel anything.

~~~

All in all, Max was having a pretty good day. He was pounding nerds to his heart's content, had Steph and her pet dweeb cowering at his mercy, and Grace Chasity finally realized just what she was missing out on. Which is why he is more than a little peeved when another fucking ghost shows up.

“Shitlips?” Max snarls, “ How you fuck did you get here? And what the fuck are you wearing?” Max woke up in the clothes he died in, but clearly Richie isn't bound by the same restriction. He's got green hair instead of blue and is wearing the $5 crown from last year's prom, but Max is 90% sure it's him.

“What did you just-” Shitlips hisses, then he stops and looks down at himself. “Oh. Will you look at that? I forgot what I was wearing.” He giggles, a wheezy, hitching laugh that Max has never heard from him before. A chill goes down Max's spine, and he feels uneasy in a way he hasn't since he woke up beside his dismembered corpse.

He thought originally that Shitlips was wearing one of his dorky cartoon outfits, the ones Max has pummeled him for wearing every Halloween since the 3rd grade, but looking at him, that seems less and less likely. He's pretty sure even Shitlips wouldn't shell out for contacts that made his eyes glow. That even with all those lame dances he's practiced in the cafeteria, he can't make his fingers bend like that .

“Shitlips?” He asks again, this time much more confused. What the fuck is happening?

“Actually, this is perfect,” the Lipschitz copy says with a grin, like Max hadn't spoken. “I can't imagine a better way to illustrate my point, Maxiepoo. You've been running around making quite the claims, haven't you? You said you were a god...” He pouts, and pats Max's head. “You don't know the meaning of the word.”

Max wrenches away from the touch. “I don't know what's gotten into you, but I beat your ass once, and I'll do it again!”

Max goes to punch him, but something grabs his hand. Fucking Flemwad , with gaudy glasses and long, highlighted hair, is holding him back. She has one hand clamped around his wrist, so tight his bones grind together. Max can feel bruises blooming under her hold. She giggles as he yanks against her hold. He had been able to easily throw her around the theater, like a toddler with a ragdoll. Now it feels like he's in the grip of a marble statue.

“What the fuck?” He moves to grab her with his other hand, but another hand clamps tight around him. Mayor Lauter isn't even looking at him, instead he is examining his fingernails.

Two more hands clamp around his ankles, and Max looks down to see the woman from the limo and the nerdy prude from the Waylon place, in blinding pink and neon yellow. They smile up at him with raucous, toothy grins. Their fingers burn where they touch him, so cold his skin cracks with neurotic black burns. Max thrashes, but he can feel their touch burrowing deep inside him, digging into the core of what he is now. 

He knows, instinctively, in a way that took the place of breathing, that there is a well of power in him. It keeps him moving, grows with every nerd he guts, propels him like a shark. It is everything he is.

And he can feel these... Monsters draining it.

“W-what are you?”

Richie Lipschitz grins with bright, manic eyes. He takes Max's chin between his fingers and forces Max to look at him. “Look at what you did to us, Maxie!”

Blood soaks Richie's front, turning the green sweater a dark red. Richie reaches down and tries to rub it away, but green fur sprouts on his skin from wherever the blood touches. Richie opens his mouth, screaming like he had when Max had first descended upon him, only water floods from his mouth. It keeps opening, wider and wider, until there is a crack and tentacles pour forth, thousands of them, squirming and writhing and lapping at Max's face and arms. 

He tries to lean away, but the tentacles push him to face Ruth Fleming. A spotlight illuminates her as the bottom half of her torso separates, where Max tore her in half. He remembers how her intestines fell out and he had laughed as they painted the stage. Now, eyes gush from the cavern in her abdomen, purple irises all locked on Max. They blink at him, blood and viscera eyelids his only reprieve from their stares.

There is a metal thunk, and Max turns to see a shovel embedded in Mayor Lauter's skull. With his free hand, he reaches up and tugs the tool loose. With a musical tinkling, shimmering blue shards fall from the wound and Max can see an endless black abyss inside of his head. Max can tell, intrinsically, that he is looking into the vastness of space, and that there are no stars, there are no planets, that he is entirely, singularly, alone. The two halves of Mayor Lauter’s face smile at him. Blue ooze swells up from the wound like crude oil from a well, and it dribbles down his front.

There is a wet splat, and warm, thick liquid splashes up Max's shin. A heavy weight rests against his shoe, and even before he looks down, Max knows the red headed woman's head is going to be staring blankly up at him. What he doesn't expect is the endless rows of serrated teeth lining the esophagus of her headless body. It leans forward and gnaws at his leg. Thick, viscous drool drips down his leg and even at a distance, Max can smell its breath reeking of rotten meat.

There is a sharp pain in his left foot. The man from the Waylon Place slams his head against Max's foot over and over, the same way Max had slammed his head into the rotting floorboards. His skull shattered the same way then, too. Only, instead of lying there, limp and gelatinous, the wet mess of flesh and brain sits up. It reaches a hand up to peel bits of skull away, like it is peeling a hard boiled egg, to reveal the bloody yellow head of a goat. It bleats at Max.

“W-what the actual fuck,” Max gasps.

The creatures laugh at him, wet and braying and metallic.

“Surely a god would understand,” the mass of tentacles coos. Bright, spotlight eyes illuminate Max, coating him in slimy green light.

The thing that never was Richie just smiles.

“You're in my world now, bitch!”

~~~

Peter takes a moment to gaze in amazement at where Max had been torn through a hole in reality. He turns to her, unable to keep the awe off his face.

“Holy shit, Grace! That was amazing!" She had saved his life. Was he indebted to Grace Chasity? Fuck, was he going to have to go to church with her now? He has no idea how he is going to explain that to Ted.

Grace looks up at him with a brilliant smile. Her shirt is still half untucked and there's grass in her mussed hair. Her lips are red and swollen and she looks the most relaxed Peter has ever seen her.

“My dad's dead,” she says brightly, and promptly bursts into tears.

“Oh shit,” Peter says frantically looking between her and Steph. Steph mouths “Do something!” at him while aggressively gesturing to Grace. Slowly, Peter reaches out and pats Grace's shoulder. “There, there...?” He trails off looking to Steph for approval. She facepalms.

She walks over to Grace, and sighs. “I still think you're fucking weird,” she says, but holds her arms open, “So this is a one time offer.”

Grace looks up from where she has her face pressed into hands. She blinks blearily at Steph, tears still cascading down her face. Then she staggers forward, falling into Steph's arms. Steph shakes with the force of Grace's sobs, tightening her hold on Grace as she screams into her chest. And then, almost impossibly, tears begin to trail down the lines of Steph's face. Slowly, first, then full hiccuping sobs. The two of them sink to the ground, fully weeping into each other's arms.

Peter doesn't know what to do, even more at a loss with two girls crying rather than just one. He swallows. Tears feel so far away. Everything feels so far away. He doesn't know how to comfort them or get them to stop or if he even should.

He kneels down, and places a hand on both their shoulders. He doesn't know what else to do.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there. Eventually, Grace and Steph catch their breath, panting and heaving under Peter’s arms, but they at least aren’t crying any longer. Peter waits for them to say something. They have planned every step of this excursion so far, and he is perfectly fine with being dragged along. But Steph and Grace don’t say anything. They just lean against each other. 

It’s cold. None of them had time to grab coats and the temperature has plummeted with the setting of the sun. Peter can feel the girls shivering. So he says it. 

“What do we do now?”

“I... I don't know. I don't even have anyone to call.” Steph says. “Miss Tessburger was my emergency contact if something ever happened to my dad, and...” Peter remembers the flare of red hair and the arc of blood that flew across the air. He swallows, fighting nausea at the memory of her severed throat.

Grace shakes her head as well. “I...” She stares blankly at her lap. She seems aimless, drifting aimlessly through the conversation. “I can't see my mom right now.”

So Peter ends up texting Ted. Peter doesn’t necessarily think this is the correct choice. His brother has been blowing up his phone all evening, with both texts and actual, honest to god voicemails. He is sure his message of “At the high school football field, please come get me” is not necessarily well received, given the way his phone immediately lights up with Ted’s face. Peter silences the call, and sends a thumbs up emoji when Ted texts “ill be ther in ten dont fuckin move”, and doesn’t really consider the implications of Ted showing up until his baby blue Stuedbaker pulls into the parking lot.

“PETER LORENZO SPANKOFFSKI!” Peter can hear Ted's screaming through the closed car windows. His brother steps out of the car, hands on his hips, keys jingling where they dangle in his hands. “Of all the times you decide to break curfew, it's when there's a fucking serial killer on the loose? And you couldn't even text me? I had to hear from Paul of all people that you nearly got arrested, at Beanie's of all places. You absolute noodle, I am going to-”

“Ted, it wasn't like that. We were just-”

“We?”

Peter can see the moment Ted realizes who is standing next to him. The anger drains from his face, and is replaced with a wide, smug grin. Oh no.

“Holy shit, are you out here with two girls ?” Jesus Christ. Peter is going to commit fratricide. 

“We weren't-”

“If you were otherwise occupied, you could have just said-”

“Ted, cut it out!”

“You were letting me fucking pace at home while you were out here getting it on with-”

“Ted, shut up !” Peter shouts, ignoring the way his voice cracks, shoving his arms down stiff at his sides with balled fists. His injured wrist screams at the movement, and he whimpers, clutching it back close to his chest. 

The others shout his name. Grace and Steph both come to his shoulders, looking over him. Ted about sprints to his side.

“What the hell happened, are you hurt?”

Ted looks at them, really looks at them. Peter knows they're a mess. Their clothes are torn from the shattered car windshield. Grace is still disheveled, with grass stains on her back and hickeys across her neck. Stephanie has eyeliner running down her cheeks and cuts on her face and arms from where they were running through the woods. Peter is drenched in sweat with dirt up and down his arms from digging up the black book. His wrist is swelling where Max grabbed it and Peter can already see the yellowing lines where his fingers dug into his skin.

“What the fuck happened to you, Pete?” 

“Please can we just go home?” Ted still looks hesitant and it almost breaks something in Peter. He just wants tonight to be over. “Please Teddy,” he begs. His voice cracks again and it's fucking embarrassing but he just wants to go home. 

Ted runs a hand through his hair but doesn't argue. “Yeah buddy, of course.” He wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulder, patting it once. “Let's go home.” Ted looks over Steph and Grace with awkward concern. “Do you, uh, need me to call your parents?”

“My dad's dead.”

“Mine too.”

Ted's eyes widen. “Oh. Um, I'm sorry. Are you sisters?”

“No.”

Ted's eyes get impossibly wider. “Okay then.”

~~~

The car ride home is awkward. No one speaks. Ted tries to turn on the radio, but Dan and Donna start reading out an APB for Grace and Peter slams his hand on the knob so hard he thinks he cracks it. Ted shoots Peter a flabbergasted look, but Peter just closes his eyes and leans his head back. If Ted ends up taking them to the police station, Peter at least wants a nap first. 

But when the car rolls to a stop, they’re in front of Ted’s dated ranch house. The sight of it almost brings Peter to tears. 

“Well, we’re here,” Ted says, as he puts the car into park. “Not exactly how I imagined Peter bringing a girl home.” The joke lands a pancake flipped onto the floor. “Okay, tough crowd. Come on, let’s get you all inside.”

They walk inside the front door, and Peter is immediately struck by the fact he and Ted haven’t cleaned in awhile. The sink is full of dishes, and an array of ties hang over the back of the couch from Ted yanking them off the moment he gets home. Crumbs cover the counters and Peter can’t remember the last time one of them vacuumed. Ruth and Richie were used to mess, so Peter hadn’t even thought... 

He swallows the lump in his throat.

“Steph, Grace, do you want to shower?” He suggests, desperate to have a moment to at least shove shit in a closet, “You can borrow some clothes.”

“That sounds really nice, actually,” Steph says, with a gratitude Peter isn’t sure he’s actually earned. Grace nods as well.

“Sure, do you have a swimsuit I can borrow?”

Peter balks at the question. “Um, I have trunks?”

She sighs, looking so despondent, Peter actually feels bad he can’t summon a bikini out of thin air. “I guess it doesn’t matter much now. That’ll work.”

Peter grabs a pair of swim trunks that are a little small on him, and sleep clothes for the two of them. He walks Grace to his shower, and shows Steph to Ted’s master. Once the door closes behind him, he collapses against the wall. The striped wallpaper is cool against his cheek, and he trails his fingers against the slick surface as he catches his breath.

This is fine. This is all fine. He is just having a sleepover. That is a normal high school thing to do. Nevermind the fact it is with Stephanie Lauter and Grace fucking Chasity, never mind that he’s never had a sleepover with anyone who wasn’t Ruth or Richie-

Peter slams the brakes on that thought. If he starts to think about them, or worse, their doppelgängers, he thinks he may completely lose it.

He walks back to the kitchen and finds Ted pulling a mug out of the microwave. “Oh, perfect timing!” He offers the mug to Peter. “I, uh, I made you a hot chocolate? I figured... your blood sugar.”

It's a good point. Peter hasn't thought about it all night, but he's pretty sure adrenaline is the only reason he hasn't fainted yet. But he hadn't mentioned that to Ted. His brother just... did it.

“Thanks,” Peter squeaks out. That damn lump is back in his throat.

The mug is warm. It feels nice in his hands. His fingers shake as he brings it to his lips. 

It’s fucking terrible. It's lukewarm, and not mixed properly so clumps of the mix coat Peter's tongue. But Ted made it for him. Tears well up in Peter's eyes and Ted begins panicking. 

“Oh Jesus, is it really that bad? Sorry, sorry, I swear I followed the instructions. We could go to- fuck, they're closed. Everything’s closed, shit. Oh!” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I'll call Paul, he's been smiling lately so I'm pretty sure that barista is staying over, we can get her to-

Despite himself, Peter giggles. “You cannot just call Paul at 3 AM to use his girlfriend.”

“She already hates me, there's no harm, really.” And the thing is, Peter really thinks he means it. That he would call his coworker at ass o'clock at night just to figure out how to make hot chocolate.

A sob bubbles up his throat. He sets the mug down and he throws himself at Ted. He nearly knocks him over. He's taller than Ted now, even if he's lankier. It feels wrong still, uncanny; a reflection in the mirror he doesn't recognize yet. But Ted's arms are still tight around him, still hold him as he shakes. He rubs circles across Peter's back.

“What the fuck happened, Pete?” he whispers. For a moment, Peter almost tells him everything. The Waylon Place, cutting up Max's body, the blood he can still feel under his fingernails. The Black Book, the blinding power that welled inside him, the gods wearing the faces of the dead.

But then he remembers the god in yellow, the way Mr. Chasity's face had licked his lips as he said Peter's last name.

He can see it, suddenly, with perfect clarity, like the image was beamed into his brain. Ted, with vibrant yellow hair and square pupils, holding that glowing yellow box. He can hear his brother's voice making that terrible bleating laugh. He can practically hear Tinky's voice. Isn't this a good look for Teddy Bear? Don't be jealous, I'll be sure you match!

Vomit wells in Peter's throat. No. He won't tell Ted. He'll keep his brother as far away from that bastard as possible.

Instead, he tells a half truth. “We fought the murderer. The person who killed Ruth and Richie.”

Ted sucks in a sharp breath. Despair, terror, and fury wage on his face. He takes a few deep breaths, and Peter can tell he is trying not to yell. Peter curls in on himself. 

“He... He tried to kill you?” Ted asks, and Peter nods. Ted hisses another pained breath. “Okay. Alright.” His voice breaks.

Peter... Peter can't remember the last time he saw his brother cry. There's a fuzzy memory in his head, of his fat toddler fingers patting Ted's wet cheeks, but it feels more like a dream than a memory.

But for as long as Peter can really remember, Ted never really cried when he got upset. He got mad, he yelled, but he didn't cry.

So Peter doesn't know how to react when tears well in his eyes

“Why didn't you call me?”

“I... I didn't want to get you involved.”

Ted glares at him, and jams his finger into Peter’s chest. “Fuck that. If it affects you, I'm involved, okay? So enough of these disappearing acts, of you just going completely radio silent. You want me to, what? Just stay awake all hours of the night wondering if you’re dead? Wait to get a call from the fucking coroner?”

Peter feels his eyes beginning to well with tears as well. “Of course not.”

“Then fucking call me, okay?” Ted shoves his shoulder, then ruffles Peter’s hair. “If shit is happening to you, I want to know about it. Okay?”

Not trusting his voice, Peter nods.

“Good.” Ted takes a drink of his hot chocolate. He promptly spits it back out. “Fuck that's terrible, what the fuck?”

Peter is still laughing when Grace and Steph get back from their showers.

~~~

Peter may not have thought the sleeping arrangements through. The three of them stand in a half circle around Peter's bed. Grace swims in a borrowed Hatchetfield high spirit week shirt and Steph has rolled up the ankles on sweatpants Peter stole from Ted.

“I... I can sleep on the floor?” Peter offers. His full bed should have more than enough room for Steph and Grace with him out of the equation.

“Peter, you are hiding us from the police, we are not going to kick you out of your bed,” Steph tells him. She grabs a pillow, and Peter realizes his sheets are nearly ten years old and have constellations on them. He is incredibly aware of the fact they are going to start glowing the second he hits the lights. He can feel himself blushing.

“I can go and sleep on the couch-” 

Peter's stomach twists at the thought of her being out of his sight. Before he can even say anything, Grace speaks up.

“I think we can all fit.”

Peter feels his jaw drop, but he can’t help it. “Um...” He stammers, “You know that this is gonna be really uh, tight, right?” Peter knows his bed can fit three people, he, Ruth, and Richie have absolutely fallen asleep watching movies in it. But usually they have to pile on top of each other like puppies, curled up in a tangle of limbs. He can’t imagine Grace Chasity of all people being comfortable with the thought.

But to his immense surprise, she just nods, and then crawls into the bed. Peter turns to Stephanie, because clearly Grace has been replaced with a body double. Steph just shrugs and crawls in after her. And well, Peter really doesn’t want to sleep on the floor. He hits the lights, ignores Steph’s delighted laugh at his childhood bed linens, and joins them.

He was right, it’s a tight fit. He is pressed tightly against Steph’s side, and still feels like he is going to fall off the bed. Steph opens her arm, and Peter gladly takes the invitation. He rests his head on her chest. She is warm and soft and smells like Ted’s vanilla body wash, and for the first time since they were called into the principal’s office, something in Peter unknots. He lets himself sink into her, curling closer when she wraps her arm around him. He involuntarily sighs, content and comfortable, and Steph rewards him by running her fingers through his hair. It promptly turns off all the thoughts in his head. “Holy shit,” he whispers, without really thinking.

“Like that?” Steph asks, and he can hear the smug smile in her voice, but he still nods all the same.

“Fuck yeah...” 

Part of him still expects Grace to kick up a fuss and tell them to leave room for Jesus or whatever the fuck she usually goes on about. But she is suspiciously silent. Peter is pretty sure he would be worried about it if Steph’s fingers weren't sapping up all of his brain power.

“Um, Grace, are you good?” Steph asks, and her fingers slow. Peter barely holds back a whine at the loss. “You are... pretty stiff.”

“Perfectly fine,” Grace says, sounding like she is having her fingernails ripped out. Steph sighs, sounding exasperated.

“If you are uncomfortable, we can make a pillow wall or something-”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” She doesn’t elaborate at first, staying quiet long enough that Steph begins playing with Peter’s hair again. He is nearly asleep when Grace says, “That just looks... really nice. That’s all.”

“Grace...” Steph says slowly, “Do you want to... cuddle?”

“Of course not! The wall is just digging into my back is all, and I figured, it would be an easier fit, if we were to get closer. Nothing untoward or anything.”

“Uh huh,” Steph says, breathing slowly, measured in a way that Peter has realized means she is holding back laughter. “That makes sense to me.”

“Right. So. Maybe, I could...” Grace doesn’t finish. Maybe she can’t. Peter feels Steph shift, offering her other side to Grace.

“Well? Get the fuck over here.”

Grace moves so quickly she almost headbutts Peter. “This is just for convenience, I hope that you know that.”

“Obviously,” Peter slurs, already slipping back toward sleep. 

“Of course, Grace,” Steph agrees, “Now get some sleep.”

Peter doesn’t need much more encouragement after the night they’ve had. Steph and Grace’s breathing is a soothing lullaby, only a shade different from the sounds of his usual sleepovers, and he easily slips into a doze. It takes a while, longer than it normally would, for the shaking to rouse him. He blinks blearily, trying to figure out just want the fuck is happening, when he registers the sniffling. It is muffled, like someone has clamped a hand over their mouth, but it is clearly crying.

Peter initially assumes it’s Steph with the way she is shaking, but her voice is clear when she asks “Grace, what’s wrong?” 

Grace doesn’t answer at first, can’t get past the tears. Peter and Steph don’t interrupt, they just wait until she says, “I had sex with Max,” and cries harder.

Steph doesn't seem to know what to say. After a moment, she asks, “And how do you feel about that?”

“It was... Good. It was really, really good. I liked it.” Grace sounds absolutely disgusted with herself. “This whole time, I have been trying to avoid these feelings and... I had sex. And it was great.” She clutches the pillow closer to her chest and sobs.

“Grace, I'm not following.”

“Don't you get it? I came up with the plan to get back at Max. I got us into the Waylon place. I killed Max. And he killed Richie and Ruth and...” She sniffles. Snot drips from her nose, and Peter grabs her a tissue from his nightstand. “And I could have... Just had sex with him and enjoyed it and maybe dated him and we could have protested homecoming together and now he's gone and none of it even matters because I gave up my virginity and we met five gods tonight and I don’t think any of them were Jesus.” She pauses for a moment, breaths heaving from the word vomit she just spewed. Then she lies back and stares at the ceiling. “My whole life has been pointless.”

“I can't say I get it,” Steph says, slowly. “Not in the same way. But like... My whole life has been dictated by my dad. Even when I went out and did what I wanted, it was stick it to him, you know? Prove he didn’t own me. And he was always calling me or having Miss Tessburger come and pick me up or... And now he's...” She swallows. “So what I'm trying to say is, I get what it is like to feel directionless.”

Peter thinks about his own life. About the absences in the room, about how his group thermodynamics project is now his sole responsibility, about the seats next to him that will be empty in every class.

“Maybe,” he says slowly, “we can find the point together.”

[confessionsofcalling]

We are the disruptive disciples. We are the ones who make noise, who ask questions. We are doubting Thomas and denying then devoted Peter and the mess in between.

We are the followers who are not content with sitting still. We are rebels and runaway ready to live our faith not just play-act it. We have a fire burning within us for revival and we are willing to put the work in to realise that.

We are the children who gurgle and babble in church, we are the autistic believers swimming without shame during the sermon. We are the brokenhearted who are still showing up.

There is something so profoundly special about the idea that the church is most authentic when it viewed through our lense. We are the disruptive disciples because we are challenging the status quo, the insitualaised church and making congregational life more like Jesus.

I can't imagine Jesus speaking in market square was quiet and subdued. I don't imagine he shyed away from people who use corse language or aren't quite sure when not to interrupt. He didn't find Zacheus up in the tree and say - you're causing trouble - but invited him to eat. Weird and wacky and wonderful would have described the crowds gathered round the Son of God. Where did we lose our way and start pushing away anyone who disrupts the picture perfect middle class church?

When did we decide that we didn't belong in the body of Christmas that our sharp corners and messy lines weren't welcomed with open arms, that our concerns didn't deserve a place at the foot of the cross?

We are the disruptive disciples. The ones who know that detours in the liturgy and moment of laughter belong in church just as much as silence and contemplation. We are the disciples that force the accepted narratives to be addressed.

Jesus came that we may have life and have life abundantly. If you ask me, abundant life has no place for suppression and perfection, but rather is an invitation to authenticity as disciples.

Jesus did not say, come all you who are perfect and knowledgeable what to say - he said come all who are weary, and I will give you rest.

Disruptive disciples - keep being yourselves, keep making suggestions and communicating in your own way. Keep getting the church the think about getting back to the heart of God. Never let anyone change you - let you change the world.

Breathe in the Lord and dance in your unique footsteps. You are what the church needs, you are what the world needs.

I have no doubt that your faith will move mountains ♥️

- M xx

[subtlehysteria]

I'd love to hear about this SamBucky swing dance AU!!

Ask and ye shall receive!

Right, so I started this when I was having a Marvel re-watch phase, mainly for Loki and Bucky content. I first thought of maybe writing a fic set in the 40's simply because I wanted to write about Sam and Bucky swing dancing but setting it in the 40's didn't feel quite right because of the war and attitude towards queer people in that time. SO! I decided, fuck it, lets set it in modern times. Bucky dances and teaches Lindy Hop (1940s swing dancing with the crazy lifts and fancy footwork) in his mom's studio in Brooklyn while Sam teaches West Coast Swing (a more modern version with more turns than lifts that can be danced to a lot of contemporary pop songs) at the VA in Harlem. They meet at Steve's wedding to Peggie and do not get along AT ALL. Poor Bucky is a little bit heartbroken because his best friend and long-time crush has gotten married and is moving to London while Bucky is expected to be totally okay with this and go back to their empty Brooklyn apartment. Sam and Steve served together in Afghanistan with the rest of the Avengers as a special ops team. In this version, Bucky didn't sign up for the army but instead pursued a career in dance and teaching. He loses his arm in a plane crash instead when heading back home from the wedding, which puts his dance career on indefinite hold. That's sort of the intro of the fic, the rest of which is set six months after Bucky loses his arm. He's busy training Peter and MJ (who are friends and dance partners) for a big Lindy Hop competition while Sam is still working at the VA. Steve asks Sam to check in on Bucky because he's been radio silent and he's worried about him which is what sort of kicks off the whole them reuniting and becoming begrudging friends (and later something more).

I definitely do want to finish this because I have at least 1/3 written and the rest planned out, plus I've found some amazing dance videos that I think really represent Bucky and Sam's dance styles well. Though I don't know when I'll get around to finishing this smh. But if you're interested in reading a snippet you can find it below the cut:

As soon as he gets home, Sam unearths his laptop and signs into YouTube, typing in his search.

James Barnes Open Swing Competition.

Immediately, several videos pop up, all featuring Bucky’s nickname in the title with an array of dance partners. They range from choreographed routines at competitions to workshops and dance camps with improvised dances. One in particular draws Sam’s eyes though.

Sensual Same-Sex Swing Routine - Bucky and Steve

He’s clicking it before he even registers he’s doing it, the video taking a second to load. It looks to be a festival setting, more relaxed with a square dance space surrounded by a crowd of people sitting on the floor or on makeshift seats. Behind is a stage with a few stray musicians taking a break, to the left a large upright banner stating this is the Lindylicious Swing Dance festival in Paris of all places. And there in the center of the dance floor is a much younger looking Bucky and Steve. They can’t be older than twenty or twenty one, so it must have been just before Steve shipped out to the army. They’re both dressed up in slacks and shirts befitting of the 1940s, Bucky in classical black while Steve’s wearing a baby blue polo that brings out his eyes. Steve’s got on a pair of white and brown leather saddle shoes while Bucky’s got a pair of black loafers with blood red socks, the only pop of colour in his outfit. His hair is shorter here, like it had been at the wedding, styled with a bit of gel to get more of a greaser look.

He and Steve stand whispering quietly between themselves before the music starts, Steve’s head tilting back with a laugh before the two start to sway to the sensual swing beat. It’s a lot slower paced compared to MJ and Peter’s routine, made for footwork and turns more than aerial tricks.

With a playful crook of his finger, Bucky invites Steve to dance, the two sliding across the distance between them to meet in the middle in a close, intimate hold. The crowd ooo’s with more than a few giggles in-between. They sway for a bit, Steve lazily swinging in and out, following Bucky’s lead without any trouble. Suddenly, the drum halts, giving space for a burst of horn, and Steve and Bucky shake it out much to the crowd’s whooping delight before shuffling back together.  A deep voice croons about what all a couple can get up to when the lights go out, and Steve and Bucky must be familiar with the song as they play up to the beats and lyrics. Sam can see the playfulness from MJ and Peter’s routine echoed here, Bucky pretending to melt to the floor, hot and bothered, as Steve walks ahead of him in time to the beat.

They make a fantastic pair, feeding off each other and moving so in sync while still having a casual easiness about them that makes it feel like it’s all improvised, like they’re just that damn good. And maybe they are.  

At one point they’re entirely wrapped around one another, Bucky having slid up to Steve’s side and twirled him so they’re chest to chest, thighs woven and hips swaying. Steve’s back is to the camera but Bucky’s face is clear to see and—oh.

Oh.

His face is tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck, attempting to hide what now Sam can clearly see is a besotted smile that has absolutely nothing to do with the characters they’re playing for the dance.

“Oh, Buck…” he murmurs as he watches the dance continue to unfold, Bucky’s adoration out there for all to see, including Steve, and they don’t even know it, thinking it’s all an act just for the fun of the dance.

It’s so damn obvious, Bucky standing with his chest to Steve’s back, arms wrapped tight around him, the two stepping together like a pair of lovebirds out on a walk. That smile, the softness of his eyes, the way he squeezes Steve just a little closer before stepping away. How the hell did no one see it? How did Steve never see it?

Sam’s shot back to that night at the reception, him and Bucky watching Steve and Peggy do a sensual West Coast Swing routine that Sam had helped choreograph, that he’d boasted about, all the while Bucky stood there still as a statue, quietly dying inside as his best friend, his dance partner, the man he loved, replaces him with someone new.

Fuck, Sam’s an idiot. No wonder Bucky was acting off, no wonder he’d dropped his smile as soon as Steve wasn’t looking. No wonder he’d stormed off when Sam suggested a dance. It was probably the final nail in the coffin, the final snip to the withering tether of his sanity that night. And Sam had played a role in snapping it.

(here's the dance I based Steve and Bucky's routine off of)

[thislovintime]

The Fairfax Street Choir (including Peter Tork), 1970s; photo provided by the Fairfax Street Choir to The Sacramento Bee in 2013.

As with 1970 and 1971 (e.g. here and here), researching turned up a few gig ads, this time from 1973:

“Sleeping Lady: Peter Tork, May 10; Fairfax Street Choir, May 11” - San Francisco Bay Guardian, May 10 through May 23, 1973

“Sleeping Lady: Peter Tork and Wood Nymphs, June 30” - San Francisco Bay Guardian, June 21 through July 4, 1973

“Sunday, [July] 29 Fairfax Street Choir, Peter Tork interlocutes, dancing ladies tap dance and 30 people play and sing some of the sweetest music around, Lions Share, 60 Redhill, San Anselmo” - San Francisco Bay Guardian, July 19 through August 1, 1973

“Peter Tork began to hang out at the Sleeping Lady. (He works there as a waiter now). One night The Fairfax Street Choir was there. He was amazed, saw a home, and joined. He grins as he adds: ‘In some ways I was a cold, lonely hitchhiker being picked up by a warm school bus.’ That school bus consists of thirty or so people. Not just singers either. There’s a complete rhythm section, horns and dancers. Yes, dancers. A total communication operation. Only this one works. They do make fine music. It’s the kind of music that makes you feel good. If they ever play in town, see them and see if their new brand of old gospel doesn’t get you smiling before they’re three bars into the first number. They’re infectious that way. It makes Peter Tork happy. He feels The Fairfax Street Choir is capable of shaking the world to its foundations. Tearing it up and taking the world by storm… if it wants to. Addressing himself to the ‘if it wants to.’ Peter tries to whip the group into professional quality and some elements won’t stand for his trying. And Peter hasn’t abandoned his solo career either. He tells you matter-of-factly he’s got an album or two in him, and the way he says it, you believe him. With no regrets about his years as a Monkee, Peter Tork has adjusted. He’s happy. Content. And hopeful. For the Choir. And himself. Talking to Peter Tork you know he’ll be back. ‘I feel the next ride will be much more sedate and won’t be quite as phenomenal… but you never can tell.’” - San Diego Reader, December 6, 1973 (originally published in the Chicago Reader; interview conducted by Chuck Stepner) (x)

“I belonged to a thing called the Fairfax Street Choir, which had 35 voices in the rock section and was very hard to stage. (laughs) Those little coffee house stages, 35 guys and women.” - Peter Tork, NPR, June 1983 (x)