#because he doesn’t get bored enough or have enough time to go out as spider-man as much as they do so there’s less of a chance of this

[milimeters-morales]

Miles waking up in the middle of the night to a noise and he sees Hobie or Gwen struggling to climb into his room and they’re all bloodied and beaten, so he hurries up and ushers them in without even thinking about what to tell his parents if they wake up (which he can probably get away with saying that they’re a friend who came to him for help bc he technically isn’t lying and hello, badly injured kid in front of two parents) and rushing to grab first aid supplies to help as much as he can. Maybe there’s still a bloodied handprint on his windowsill when it’s all over (for better or worse), and he stares at it for a while. just thinking about his own life and what he wants to do with it outside of being Spider-Man. and then he cleans it up and goes about his day.

[xxsugarbonesxx]

retired!Miguel rambling

🩷 I love domestic Miguel he is my everything

i guess this is head canons??? idk i just wrote what i thought felt right lol

mostly fluff, some smut, no gender is specified for reader,

though it doesn't go into depth, pregnancy and pregnancy sex is mentioned so read at your own risk 🩷

MINORS DO NAWT INTERACT!!!!

Miguel is naturally warm, his skin is so soft and warm. He smells like firewood and citrus, trust. In the winter you’ll lounge over his body like a seal on a rock in the sun. In the summer, you drag the kiddie pool from the back and fill it up. Dipping your feet in the cold water while you two watch the kiddos and dogs play in the sprinklers. 

He makes chunky babies. If you have the ability to get pregnant, most people will assume you’re having twins ‘cause how big your tummy is once you’re with child. But you just got one chubby little babe in there, and then they’re born with a whole head of their papa’s coffee colored curls. 

Piggy backing off the previous: once he gets out of his office in the Spider Society, leaving the Spider Man role behind, he’ll gain some weight. He’ll get that daddy pooch/dad bod going down, his pubes thick and curly. A whole forest is growing under his pudgy tummy. He doesn’t think shaving is that important once he’s settled down and has his kids but is willing to shave if that’s what you prefer. 

He did do the thing where he shaved his face completely to show the baby when they were around five months old. Popping out from behind the corner to show the babe his clean shaven face with you filming it. It all ended with all three of you crying and snuggling with the baby once they started sobbing and screeching since all they’re tiny life they’ve seen their daddy with a neat, salt and peppery beard.

And if you CAN’T get pregnant, (whether you’re amab or infertile) bro will be going at it with you like an ANIMAL. He’s got fat breeder balls, full of hot, sticky cum to pump into your needy hole. Once he’s cum, he’ll give one last thrust, nice and deep into your gummy walls. Plugging his semen deep inside you, keeping it there. After care in this instance is nonexistent, since he falls asleep on top of you, still deep in your guts.

He just likes touching you, if you’re alone in the car, waiting at the red light. His palm travels up and down your thigh absentmindedly as his eyes bore into the stop light. (He wears those glasses that turn into sunglasses when he goes outside, argue with the wall) Maybe he’ll get brave enough or the light still hasn’t changed for awhile, his hand will dip under your shirt, his thumb pad playing with your soft nipple until it hardens.

As long as you’re alone, he’ll have his hands on you. Six times out of ten it leads to actual sex.

I don’t think of him as a god in bed really, he’s just a guy. He’s gonna do what he thinks you and him are gonna like (what you want will always be top priority for him I know it) Acting on lizard brain, he’s gonna do what he’s gonna do without much thought beforehand. He couldn’t edge you to save his life, if you’re whining or crying, he’s just gonna let you cum, he just can’t say no to you. :(

Foreplay is always important to him though, mainly just because I want him to rub my back, I think he’d go for the whole massage thing. Spending a good amount of time rubbing and massaging your shoulders, back and cunny/cock. His hand is so big, he’d be able to grip the space between your thighs with one hand no issue. Rubbing back and forth until you cum from his hands alone. He likes to have you cum at least once before he’s actually inside you. He’s a gentleman after all. :))) His favorite positions are full nelson, side fucking, doggy style (I will die on the hill he’s more of an ass then a titties man I don’t care!!!) and face sitting.

If you can get pregnant, pregnant sex is even more tender and loving. Usually taking brakes to pepper your body and face with little kisses. 

@cupcakeinat0r wrote a tasty yummy fic about growing old with Miguel, and I’ve had that stuck in my brain since then. Around his forties, Miguel’s really mellowed out. He’s not as a perfectionist or cold and irritable as he used to be. Having kids has helped him calm more, having a more relaxed approach to problems now. Then his quick to anger, slow to calm back down personality when he was acting as spider man. Getting married and having kids has helped him realize that he doesn’t have to be the tough guy in the room. Though his kids are just as stubborn as him now. 

I love the domestic potential of Retired!Miguel, you two having a song, that’s your song as a couple. Cooking dinner together for your little babies. Having a show you two watch an episode or two of after putting kids to bed. Sitting on the couch, your legs over his lap, drinking wine with a kids movie on as your makeshift date night. 🩷

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Leave My Heart Open | Explicit | 1,587 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Zayn Malik.

Louis is gorgeous. There’s no room for doubt. But he’s looking at Zayn like he wants to devour him, and Zayn would be kidding himself if that kind of intense focus didn’t scare him a bit.

2) Attention | Mature | 3,629 words

The fact that Harry said "I want you ready for me" not only meant that she had to look pretty, but it was more about the fact that he needed her lubricated, dilated and preferably without underwear to make things easier. Louis was aware that maybe she was in for some rough sex in her husband's office after so much provocation and that was just what she wanted.

3) You Wrap Around Me and You Give Me Life | Explicit | 4,778 words

Louis cockwarms Harry in his office and decides that he's bored enough and begins to ride him without his permission. Harry has other plans to pleasure his bratty boyfriend.

4) Naughty Little Elf | Explicit | 5,231 words

Harry is busy and Louis is supposed to be helping him. He's not.

5) Pilot | Teen & Up | 5,279 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“We have fifteen minutes.” Harry glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “How fast do you think my tongue can make you come?” Still against the wall, Louis felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down his spine. In three years walking on moving planes, he'd never had such zero control over his legs. At least not until now.

6) White Noise Frequency | Explicit | 5,574 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

In the dark, something crashes. Louis stirs, barely opening his eyes as he gropes across the bedside table for his phone. Muffled cursing is coming from the hallway, probably about ten feet away from the bedroom door. Allowing himself the tiniest of smiles, Louis yanks the phone free from the charger and slips out of bed, leaving the blankets pooled on the floor. He doesn’t bother with shoes or clothes, moving silently across the floor in his bare feet. Eyes open now, adjusting to the shadows in the dark room, he waits behind the door, crouched down. There’s no more noise. Louis waits, breathing slowly, steadily. He’s awake now, fully alert. He’s got a loose grip on his phone, and he doesn’t glance down at the screen no matter how much he wants to. This really shouldn’t be happening anymore. Three years, two new houses, an upgraded security system and actual money to throw at the problem means this definitely shouldn’t be happening anymore.

7) Wearing You Like Clothes | Explicit | 5,908 words

Louis rushes over to his door and hopes against hope that maybe he got lucky and it didn’t lock this time. He jiggles the handle, but no dice. Louis groans. Great, so he’s locked out and it’s after hours so his landlord will be difficult to reach. He does have a spare key, but it’s with his best mate Niall, who is conveniently out of town this weekend. And it’s not like Louis can go anywhere to ask for help. Not when he’s only wearing knickers.

8) Spiders Don’t Fly But Gods Do | Mature | 6,655 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis Tomlinson is an underpaid photojournalist in NYC. He leads a pretty average life, getting shots of town heroes, dodging flirtatious remarks from old coworkers and being the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. But what happens when a sex god comes to crash in his apartment?

9) Say You Love Me | Mature | 7,496 words

Harry and Louis are friends with benefits, but Harry wants more. Louis is scared because of his last relationship not ending well. Will Louis let his guarded heart go free or will he keep it locked up and away forever?

10) Always Had That Heart Of Mine | Mature | 7,804 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is nesting, though he won’t admit to it. Between being ill, the stress of uni, and near drops, the only thing keeping him afloat is Harry’s scent. The fact they don’t get along is neither here nor there.

11) The Knothead Neighbor | Mature | 8,058 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 3: Neighbors AU, preferably ABO! Harry works evenings/nights (maybe like a surgeon something that requires him to be gone for long hours) and has a cat. The cat has a little kitty door at the back so that it can explore and such. Louis just moved next door and the cat seems to always end up at his door. Eventually, Louis lets the cat in, as he’s new and he’s feeling quite lonely. They become fast friends, so much so that the cat prefers to stay with Louis rather than go home. Harry gets concerned that the cat starts to stay out all day/night so he eventually leaves a note attached to the cat’s collar with its name and phone number. Louis texts him telling him he’s his neighbor and not to worry, the cat just likes to hang with him as it might be lonely. Harry gets pissed that this stranger is stealing his cat so he goes to confront Louis and tell him to stop stealing his cat. Of course, as soon as he sees Louis, he falls in love with him and the rest is history. (If ABO could be cute that both Harry and Louis like to cuddle with the cat because it holds the other’s scent)

12) Could Start A Cult | Explicit | 8,750 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

He lowers down the top that Louis is wearing, successfully unclasping his nursing bra as well, letting Louis’ tits bounce at the sudden movement. Harry massages both breasts to stimulate the milk flow, and he can feel his cock hardening inside his pants.

13) Please, Don’t Say You Want Me | Teen & Up | 9,320 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 496: ABO/royalty AU. Where Omega Prince Louis is forced to marry alpha King Harry by his father for the benefit of their kingdom. After the wedding, Harry lets Louis know that he didn’t want a mate and to not expect a relationship from him. Since they are already mated, Harry has to officially reject Louis’s omega to break ties. This practice is so taboo that he doesn’t know the omega has a maximum of a year left to live after rejection. As time goes on, the omega gets weaker and weaker.

14) Sugar Water | Explicit | 9,454 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

When his most familiar begins to feel all too unfamiliar, Harry finds out what it means to love like real people do.

15) You Know It Ain’t Fiction, Just A Natural Fact | Not Rated | 13,312 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Look, Lou” Harry whispers, “I can’t do it, and as much as I like having dinner with you, and hanging out, I think we should just do it without the tutoring part because I am not smart enough for school.” “That’s bullshit,” Louis answers quickly, “what do you like?” he asks, “I mean, other than football and asking me stuff about my family. There must be something else you’re good at.” “I play football and fuck, Louis. That’s it.” Louis definitely doesn’t flinch at that. He does not.

16) Only You And You Alone (Can Thrill Me Like You Do) | Explicit | 13,346 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry wrinkles his nose as he fights Louis' dress to get his hands underneath it, panting deeply. "Alpha..." "I'm still hungry, Louis," he claims with a severity that is derailed by his ragged breathing. "I thought I heard you say you were going to take care of everything."

17) Stockholm Syndrome | Explicit | 13,584 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"That's it!",Harry screamed in his face, "I'm done with you! I'll take you to your home, where you belong, where your father will be waiting for you with a belt in his fucking hands!" He could not go home. He was finally free. He will do anything to not go back to that place. He desperately and uselessly tried to free his hands, stumbling on his feet. "NO! No! No please, please, please don't take me back, please! I'll behave, I'll listen to you, I swear! Don't take me back, Harry! Please! Alpha!!" By now tears were flowing down his cheeks. Screw his stupid brain and his stupid heart. He was too good for the world. He was too hopeful to think that Harry was any different from his father and his brothers. It was true, all the alphas were the same. All with their disgusting need to control and breed and ruin the life of an omega. To take and take and take, and never give anything back. It seemed as if expecting goodness from the world was a crime and he was the biggest sinner.

18) I’ve Got Something To Confess, I Keep You In My Pocket To Use | Explicit | 16,770 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

"You made Harry Styles practically swoon over you, admit you’re beautiful to basically the world, he asked for your number and you said no. Like, you have to be joking.” Bella tsks as she sits up straight, grabbing Louis’ computer off his lap and putting it off to the side. Louis moves to reach for it, sighing in defeat as he leans back against his pillows. “You know how it goes with those sports guys. They’re just after having a good time before they have to go to the next city and play another game and find another person to swoon.” Louis explains. “It just wouldn’t have worked and I’m too busy right now.” Louis shrugs. “Too busy to fuck Harry Styles?” Bella asks with a raised brow. “Yes, even too busy to fuck Harry Styles.”

19) Swap Me For Your Shadow | Explicit | 16,829 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“…I’m just … so in love with him.” Louis blinked. What??? This hushed revelation from Harry came like a gunshot- loud - and made his heart plummet. He could hardly process it, as he stood there freezing in the wind, hidden behind the balcony door. Harry was … Harry was in love?? Since when?? The shock and confusion that had fallen over him like a bucket of ice was slowly washed over by a feeling that ran hot and acidic. Somehow, it gripped around his lungs tighter, more cruelly. Harry was in love with someone….and it wasn’t him. If Louis thought being in love with his best friend was a knife that continually twisted into his heart before, it was nothing compared to when Harry started to go around talking about having fallen for someone else.

20) A Package Deal| Explicit | 18,875 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis knows Harry hasn't fucked and run because he can hear him talking quietly in the next room. He shouldn't care enough to get up and find out who he's talking to—he knows cops get phone calls at all hours of the night and day—but Louis has always been too curious for his own good. He pushes himself up off the couch and pulls on his underwear, which he finds several feet away, folded in a small pile. Harry must have done that while he was still asleep. It feels a little silly to be tiptoeing around in his own home, but Louis does it anyway. When he finally peeks around the corner to the kitchen, he sees Harry kneeling on the floor with Biscuit, and that alone is enough to disrupt Louis' usual heart rate. When he realizes that Biscuit is allowing Harry to scratch around his ears while he mutters to him quietly about what a pretty boy he is, well, okay. Now Louis might need a defibrillator. For the past three years, it's just been Louis and his one-eye orange cat, Biscuit. When Louis starts sleeping with Harry, the aggravating cop stationed at the ER where he works, he has no reason to think anything will change. Unfortunately, Harry and Biscuit have other plans.

21) Wild At Heart | Mature | 21,006 words

Louis had never left his fathers farm. At age 16, he knew nothing about the outside world. Louis’s world was just peaches, his family, and his friends. As a punishment from his father, Louis has to help train the new farm workers who happen to be no good city boys. Louis gets tangled up in their antics and tangled in the sheets with Harry Styles. A messy bet leads to drinking, drugs, and sloppy kissing. But lying only gets you so far when your with the Tomlinsons…

22) Heart Eyes | Explicit | 21,465 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

What the fuck did he just do? “Harry?” the demon asks as he tries to catch his breath. Louis looks like he’s been fucked to hell and back. His eyes are half-lidded in what Harry can only describe as erotic bliss, even as his crumpled form lies on the dirty ground. The incubus truly is a sight for sore eyes. He’s gazing up at Harry with those infuriatingly pretty heart eyes as if he's hung the very moon. This is wrong. This is all so fucking wrong. Or: Harry is a dedicated sentinel with a strong aversion to demons, and Louis is the lovesick incubus who will go to any lengths to win Harry's heart.

23) It Was All By Design (‘Cause I’m A Mastermind) | Explicit | 21,980 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.”

24) Splash Me Across The Silver Screen | Explicit | 22,851 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry shrugged. “Maybe you just need to get even more outside your comfort zone. Maybe we need to try something a bit more… adventurous?” Curiosity successfully piqued, Louis tilted his head and toyed with the fringe dangling from his lace shrug. “Like what?" “We, uhm—maybe we try filming you in more compromising positions,” Harry suggested carefully. He kept his tone low and even as he studied Louis’ expression, hands skating over his curves soothingly. If Louis didn’t know any better he might have thought that Harry was talking about filming him naked. But that couldn’t be right—could it? “Like porn?”

25) The Bluest War And Peace | Explicit | 27,138 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

For centuries the Black Haven pack had a tradition where the first born omegas and alphas were to be introduced to each other. The pups were barely ten, dressed in their finest clothings and made to look presentable. That's when he first saw his ruins and he knew that he was never going to be the same.

26) I Found An Angel So Divine | Explicit | 30,990 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Arishem should have abducted a human instead, to fiddle with their memory. Would have been more effective.” Thena, who had been staring into space for a few minutes, looked up. “Why don’t we just bring a human with us?” Everyone turned to stare at her. “What?” she retorted sternly. “Why not introduce him directly to a human being, so he can see how special humanity is?” Pip, who had dozed off against a wall with his pint still in hand, woke up with a start, while Druig tried to make sense of Thena’s words. “Not a bad idea, but who? Personally, I don’t know any human being worthy enough to represent his entire bloody species.” Angel. Eros thought. “Louis!” Pip shouted.

27) Deleted Scenes | Explicit | 33,623 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Agent Harry Styles was injured on the job a few months back, and gets roped in one last mission before he can retire prematurely: playing house with Louis, a widower who has amnesia. The assignment seems simple at the beginning, but soon enough Harry's twisted in a web of his own making, and can't get out anymore.

28) Tainted Love | Mature | 39,381 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Broken awards, cut-up blouses, childish pranks and lots of nastiness? This is apparently all that remains of Louis and Harry after a sudden break-up and they walk a fine line between love, revenge and jealousy. Will the two find their way back to each other or are they both too hurt?

29) Yours, Mine & Ours | Explicit | 40,311 words

Note: This a sequel to this fic.

With their secret out, Harry and Louis must find a way to fight the spotlight, and battle the media, in order to keep their family in one piece.

30) All The Small Things You Do (Remind Me Why I Fell For You) | Not Rated | 53,685 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Prompt 68: Pack alpha Harry only wants to marry for matrimonial benefits but no other omega wishes to marry him for his reputation of being a big scary wolf who snarls at everyone for even breathing the wrong way. Omega Louis, to improve his pack’s condition, decides to be Harry’s pack Luna but is taken aback by how soft and sweet Harry actually is with him. AU where Harry is intimidating pack alpha but is very sweet and lovely with his soon-to-be mate and would do anything for his pack Luna, even make fool of himself in front of everyone just to see his giggle.

31) Valhalla | Mature | 73,282 words

Harry Styles is one of the strongest Norse warriors of his generation, an alpha with a noble title and local chief of his tribe, which is composed of alphas, betas, and omegas who have followed him into battle and their families. They live on a large island intentionally named Valhalla, the Norse warriors' paradise. He is almost accepting that he will never find an omega to mate, until he meets Louis Tomlinson, a young exiled omega warrior and also the most beautiful he has ever seen. And the alpha feels that this omega who must have the blood of Freyja running through his veins belongs to him and that he was blessed by the gods. Determined to conquer him, he takes him out of exile by taking him to Valhalla, but Louis is completely skittish and stubborn, determined to tear Harry's neck out with his sword if the alpha continues with this idea that the omega belongs to him. It's in the midst of conflicting feelings, rituals, and battles that alpha and omega find redemption and love even though they end up using their swords against each other.

32) Charmed | Mature | 163944 words

Louis had always felt he was different, but he had never understood why. At least until one particular event devasted hum, turning his life upside down forever and bringing to the surface a past he didn't know, a present he thought he knew, and a series of unexpected events that will trigger the beginning of a future he's not sure he wants to live.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[deardjarin]

pretend you hate me (i know you don’t)

miguel o’hara x f!reader

miguel is a grouch. you’re pissed off.

words: 2.2k

rating: explicit

warnings: rough sex, degradation kink, oral sex (f and m recieving), vaginal sex

a/n: i told myself i would NOT fall victim to miguel but i did. 

⋆⭑✦⭑⋆

You’ve never met anyone grumpier than Miguel O’Hara. 

You understand, to an extent, but good god nothing can make him remotely relaxed. You’ve gotten used to his stone-cold demeanor, but it still annoys you. It’s one of those days again, when Miguel is so caught up in his own work that he won’t listen to anything you say.

“You’re being an asshole, Miguel.” 

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just continues to angrily punch at the various buttons on the computer. You sigh, louder than you meant to, and Miguel shoots you a glance in response. 

“Come on, Mig, have a conversation like a normal person. Whatever you’re doing cannot be so important-“

“Enough,” He snaps, finally turning away from the various screens to look at you. His blood red eyes bore into your skin, and his jaw clenches. You don’t say anything for a moment, stunned into silence, but you decide to keep pushing, because you’ve had enough of Miguel O’Hara. 

“What is your problem?” You ask sharply, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re always in some kind of mood. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.” 

Miguel raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t move a muscle otherwise. Technically you have seen him smile; moments where he doesn’t think you’re watching, a shimmer of admiration crossing his face and his fangs peeking out of his lips. But you’d never tell him that, never give him the satisfaction of knowing you care. 

“I don’t have time for this,” He says, your name rolling off his tongue in annoyance. “I have to worry about every single universe, every single Spider-Man. Not you.” 

Your blood boils; you’ve had enough of his self-righteous bullshit. 

“Fuck off, O’Hara,” You growl, stepping towards him. He tenses as you point at him, then lightly punch his chest in anger. “Nobody wants to watch you wallow in your own loneliness or whatever. Grow up.”  

You both fall silent after that, only your heavy breaths and the soft beeping of various technology filling the air. Something shifts between you two, just for a moment, Miguel’s face shifting into something more amused. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist and twists you backwards, pulling you flush against his chest. For a second you swear you can feel something hard pressing against your lower back. 

“Do you know what the problem is?” He growls, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. “I’ve got all this pent up stress, and no way to get rid of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat before Miguel releases you, pushing you away from him and walking off. You’re frozen in place, his touch burning against your skin. But you push on, not wanting him to win. 

“Miguel!” You shout, unable to keep up with his long strides. “Just, fucking—don’t you run away!” 

You almost catch up to him, but he turns on his heels and stops abruptly, making you run into his chest with a huff. You push your hair out of your face, gearing up another insult to hurl at him to keep him here, keep him listening—

Miguel grabs your face in his hands and kisses you. 

You freeze once more against the rough press of his lips. Miguel pulls back, looking slightly alarmed, mumbling something about how he’s sorry and he shouldn’t have done that. 

“Fuck you,” You breathe with a smile before pulling him back down and kissing him again. Miguel hesitated before roughly grabbing your hair and pushing his tongue in your mouth. Grasping onto his broad shoulders, the two of you kiss heatedly and sloppily. 

“Baby,” Miguel groans when you both pull apart. 

“Are you going to take me somewhere, or fuck me right here?” You ask playfully, chest heaving as you catch your breath. 

Miguel grins devilishly.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having an audience watching me put you in your place,” He growls, jerking his hips forward so his clothed cock rubs against you. Your stomach flutters and your cunt clenches around nothing. 

“Asshole,” You spit, and in a blink, Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. You gasp, scrambling to find purchase anywhere to steady yourself as Miguel walks off. 

You really hope you don’t cross paths with any of the many, many Spider-People in HQ, but as Miguel approaches his private quarters, your worries are quelled. 

Miguel tosses you on his bed as the door slides closed behind him, and for good measure, he shoots webs across the seal. You whine softly, thinking about all the other things he could do with them. Would he web your wrists to the wall so you couldn’t move? Would he let you web him down, so you could ride his cock torturously?

You’re pulled from your thoughts as Miguel slowly approaches the edge of the bed, staring you down. The low lighting casts his face in shadow, only the glow of his red eyes visible. You half expect him to pull you back up and push you down to your knees, but instead he lowers himself to the ground. His fingers ghost over your clothed cunt against the fabric of your suit. 

“Take this fucking suit off,” He orders, and you fumble with the zipper of your spider suit, Miguel watching but not helping. You kick the fabric off, leaving your cunt exposed to the cool air, and you spread your legs instinctively.

Satisfied, Miguel drags two fingers through your slick folds, making your hips jump. 

“Soaked,” He mumbles, pulling his hand away and sticking his fingers in his mouth, tasting you. “I knew; I could smell you.”

“Bullshit,” You retort, but you’re cut short by Miguel’s mouth connecting with your cunt. 

He eats you out like a man starved. He has no shame; he moans as he sucks on your clit, burying his face between your legs. You have nothing smart to say after that. You simply moan and babble his name, tugging on his thick brown hair. He pulls away for a moment, but you don’t let him go very far as you keep him close with your legs. He fumbles with the watch on his wrist and you watch as his suit disappears, and he goes back to work.

“Oh, Miguel,” You moan, twisting your free hand in the sheets of the bed. You feel him smirk against your pussy. You throw your head back when you hear the soft sounds of him jerking his cock. “Oh, fuck, Mi-guel—I’m going to cum—“

You cum with a cry, thighs shaking as you jerk your cunt against Miguel’s mouth. Once you finish, he pulls away, licking his lips and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Shit,” You groan, adjusting yourself so you're sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Finally got you to shut up?” Miguel asks, voice rough. You narrow your eyes, but your expression changes as the man stands up. His cock is huge; thick and long and leaking drops of precum. His balls hang heavy between his thighs, swollen and ready for release. You reach out, splaying your hand against his abs, feeling the thick hair that leads to his crotch. Miguel leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, and the sudden tenderness of it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Now get your mouth on my cock,” He orders, his large hand moving to your throat, pulling you down to his length. You drag your lips down, only lightly touching him, and you hear a deep rumble come from his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you take him in your mouth, running your tongue along the underside of his cock. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Miguel groans, tugging on your hair once more. Your jaw aches from the stretch. Miguel begins shallowly thrusting into your mouth, making you gag a little bit against the force. “I knew you’d be a slut. Ever since I saw you step through that portal, I imagined you on your knees for me.” 

Your eyes sting with tears as you pull off his cock with a pop. You feel the sharp press of nails against the nape of your neck. Miguel stares down at you, brows furrowed. You wrap your hand around his length, jerking it slowly as spit drips down your chin. 

“Enough of the chit-chat,” You reply, smearing a bead of precum on the head of his dick. “Are you going to keep talking shit or actually fuck me like a real man?”

That seems to relight the aggression in Miguel, as he surges forward and attacks you with his mouth. He covers your body with his, kissing down the side of your neck. You moan as he sucks bruises on your sensitive skin, shivering when the points of his fangs prick your neck. You wonder what would happen if he actually bit you, but you quickly lose the thought when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. 

“You dick!” You shout, and Miguel barks out a laugh as he pulls away. His eyelids are heavy as he rakes his gaze over your body, admiring his work. Your chest tightens with a new feeling–something foreign, and a little bit scary. 

Miguel roughly grasps your thighs, parting them and exposing your cunt. He jerks his cock once, twice, before tapping it against your clit. You shudder, mumbling a curse before Miguel sinks inside. He groans loudly, chest heaving as he bottoms out. 

“You, fuck–Miguel,” You breathe. Miguel kisses the edge of your jaw lightly, and you can’t help but cup the side of his face, dragging the tips of your fingers over the deep scar across his cheek. You feel your eyes fill with tears, and you don’t know why, and that scares you. Miguel wraps his arms around you and pulls you tight to his chest before beginning to thrust into you. 

“Fuckin’ sweet pussy, tight pussy,” He groans into your ear, panting with exertion. You clench around his length, moaning as he drags against your walls. He speeds his thrusts up, grunting with each push into your cunt. You get lost in the sensation of being filled, of being completely smothered by Miguel’s body weight. You alternate between screwing your eyes shut and staring at the ceiling, but Miguel pulls away enough to stare straight into your eyes. 

“Look at me,” He demands, and you do, drinking in the sight of his pure arousal.

You let yourself be manhandled by him; he pulls out, pushing you onto your side and outstretching your right leg. You’re about to ask what he’s doing, but he lies down behind you and sinks his cock back into your pussy. You moan loudly, jerking your hips and pressing your ass back against him. Miguel chuckles darkly and grabs the flesh of your ass, altering his thrusts to hit somewhere deep inside you. 

“Will you let me cum inside you?” He asks, a little breathless, kissing and nipping your shoulder. “I bet you’d like that, filling your pussy up with my cum.”

“Yes, fuck yes,” You respond, the pit of your stomach twisting with your approaching orgasm. Miguel speeds up his thrusts, shoving his hand between your legs. His thick fingers rub against your clit, bringing you closer to your release. 

Miguel moans your name into your ear before his thrusts falter, cock twitching as he spills his load into you. You’re quick to follow, your orgasm washing over you as Miguel holds you close. You both take a few moments to catch your breath, the room silent. 

“Feeling any better?” You ask teasingly, reaching between your legs to give Miguel’s balls a squeeze. He grunts and bites your shoulder in retaliation.

You let Miguel’s softening cock slip out of you, his cum smearing across your thighs. You twist in his arms so you are face to face with the man, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He looks…unsure. Like something is still on his mind.

“Miguel,” You say softly, trailing your fingers down his muscular back. “You can’t keep everything to yourself. It’s causing you way more stress than necessary.” “I…” He starts, trailing off as he avoids your gaze. His voice drops lower, becomes softer. “I love you.”

You freeze, your heartbeat speeding up. You try to say something, anything, but you can’t find the words.

“You…didn’t notice,” Miguel says, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a smile. 

You sit up suddenly, laughing softly.

“Of course I never noticed!” You exclaim, but your voice is void of any real annoyance. “You’re grouchy all the time. How was I supposed to know?”

Miguel finally meets your gaze, the corner of his eyes crinkling with a smile. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” You purr, cradling Miguel’s face with both of your hands. 

“Then I’ll just look at your tits instead,” He quips, reaching up and squeezing your breasts in his hands. 

“Miguel,” You scold, but allow yourself to be pulled down into his embrace. You rest your head on his bare chest. The two of you stay there for a while, just listening to the gentle breaths of each other. After a while, you feel a familiar hardness against the inside of your thigh.

“Ready for round two?”

“Insatiable.”

[johnny-boy-17]

SPOILERS for Spider-Man:Across The Spiderverse

Shout-out to Across the Spiderverse for being one of (if not) the first marvel property to just flat-out say FUCK CANNON.

I’ve recently happened upon the revelation that cannon is fucking stupid when you really get a grasp of the concept, so just accept whatever you want to be cannon as cannon. Frankly, that has been the most liberating feelings as a comic book fan. It’s the pilot run, whatever stays mainstream enough, and whatever else you think is cool. So to a comic movie, to see Spider-Man say that is incredibly vindicating.

“Oh what? There’s always supposed to be a dead police-captain in Spider-Man’s life? Fuck you, Pavitr and Miles don’t need that shit. Oh, Gwen is the girl that always dies? Go to hell, she’s a trans-girl in a spidey-suit here. Oh the spot is a joke villain? Nah you trippin, this man is a menace to the fabric of space and time. You corpos ain’t writers, we are.” Nothin’ but respect for these guys . They made the sequel to the best comic-book movie a meta-commentary on comics as a whole.

Lemme try to explain: Miles has two antagonists in this movie, one of them is Spot (clearly), and one of them is the very concept of comic-purists themselves. When Miles decides to save Pavitr’s police Captain, Miguel throws a fucking fit. And when Miles goes out of his way to rescue his dad, the spiderverse conglomerate just goes ape-shit. Hell, Miguel slams him into the roof of a moving train just because he didn’t turn into the prowler like he was allegedly supposed to. By the time he escapes, Miguel has those sketch-lines Spot has, his eyes are red as blood, and the blue in his suit is just black.

Everything that can happen with something as malleable as comics is wonderful, but purists would rather keep it boring and organized for the sake of arbitrary what-ifs. Miles is out f*cking with bad-asses like Hobie, Pavitr, and Gwen. Meanwhile, Miguel chooses f*cking Ben Riley from that convoluted mess that is the Clone Saga. This move even writes him as the epitome of how 90′s comics were up their own ass that he is (and having him be voiced by Andy Samberg was absolutely the right choice).

This couldn’t have come at a more perfect time, with Zeb Welles just taking a blowtorch to everything we liked about the character right now. While Marvel busy trying to push the Parker luck to the furthest extreme, most everyone that I’ve met have all subscribed to the universe where Peter and MJ have a daughter instead of being cucked by some ship-dit named Paul. Either way, the beauty of comics is that they have multiple writers for one character, and each have a different view of where to go. You can choose the Renew Your Vows world, or you can stick to One More Day; it doesn’t matter, because trying to decide what’s cannon is cringe. Go enjoy what you want, and don’t be a purist about it.

The point is that the spiderverse crew understood the assignment and what needed to be done, and did both so seamlessly. It’s both a brilliant continuation of an already great movie, and (more importantly to me) a discussion that needed to happen years ago.

[privateanxieties]

uh-oh, look at us

Summary: She’s lonely and well past lightly buzzed - she’s teetering the line of drunk. And then Spider-Man crashes through her window like a disgruntled pigeon. Between the two of them, coughing up one brain cell is quite the task.

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x Reader (she/her)

Words: 1.7K

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

Confronting your loneliness is a task best accomplished while sweetened up by delightfully fruity wine, something to ease her mind into the pity party she's throwing tonight.

It's been a while since she's started realizing that she's getting quite… old, at least too old to still yearn with childishness for things that come so easily to others. You begin to feel a bit pathetic, trapped in the same cycle of irrationality for years, and at some point you just stop trying. You turn a sour grapes situation into a no-grapes-at-all one.

It's why she's throwing this party on a shitty couch she hasn't bothered decluttering - there are no friends to indulge the wine and snacks with her. The last time she can remember being socially apt enough to quickly invite people in was a random girl she met when she was six, both of them subjected to a boring event by their parents and having to find a way to spend the time more pleasantly.

Past a certain age, it becomes too hard to talk to someone about yourself, or strike up a friendship - what would she even say? There are no stories worth telling, except the ones that never happened. Perhaps someone would listen with horror to her confession of the empty spaces in her life, and perhaps that'd be entertainment enough, but no one would choose to stay. Ironically, she can never leave herself, as much as she'd fancy at least a vacation from her mind. All she can give herself instead is a break from the crushing awareness. She can simply… turn it off. Become oblivious.

That's what she's hoping to do tonight, as she brandishes the ludicrously oversized wine glass around, pretending the couch is a fancy chaise in a therapist's office and she is the main character of all life on Earth.

She declares confidently that starting this year, there will be no more insecurity as she renounces the decade-long yearning. No more wondering, no more longing, no more melting from the observed gestures of others. No more asking what it would be like, no more wishing she were different. Going forward, she'll hold on to whatever she can, but she'll never again try to grasp at things. She'll make whatever can be made from this, leaving the rest up to time.

She's distantly aware that life is bound to be a revolving door of failure and disappointment if this is her plan for the future, but she can't find it in herself to care. She doesn't expect to live to see an age where she'll be filled with regret. Statistically, she ticks many of the boxes that make one predisposed to dying in anonymity. And though a part of her wants to believe there's always hope that things will improve, she knows that her self-sabotage skills are second to none.

She's the type of person who would take the bull by the horns only to kindly ask it not to stomp on her. Fat chance. It's a big, complex and often cruel world out there, and she feels small, simple and way too sensitive to defend herself, much less others.

She has no idea how he does it.

Night after night, the city stills under his watchful eyes and the light dawns with fewer threats roaming the streets. It's enviable and infuriating all at once, because she'd also like to have some kind of grand purpose if she can't have other meaningful experiences. The one time she tried playing the hero was a marvelous show of desperation and blind bravery, and it resulted in a close encounter with death and a wicked crescent scar for her trouble. Nobody benefitted from her intervention in that crumbling building all those months ago, and the hospital bill she got served when she woke up is still being paid off. Somehow. Her income is ok, but nothing to write home about. In fact, if she did try to write home, it'd probably come with a 'return to sender' stamp.

It's fine. She cut her losses on the parental front a while ago, and there isn't much to grieve. She misses none of the mind games and venom, and any potential inheritance wouldn't make up for all the groveling she'd have to endure to get it. Her parents are not nearly wealthy enough to justify their sadistic tendencies and narcissism, so it's a hard pass for her. Then again, if she's thinking this way, perhaps she's not as different from them as she thought.

"Qui se ressemble s'assemble," she mocks indignantly, her mother's favorite saying infiltrating awareness and finding its way to the tip of her tongue.

Birds of a feather do flock together, but that was never how her mother meant it. Whenever the occasion arose for her to dutifully dole out those words, they were always meant to rally the troops - to persuade an otherwise unwilling spectator into volatile action, usually backstabbing. Sometimes murder.

She hasn't killed anyone, but she's seen more than enough of that in the family: absolute bloodbaths - of the metaphorical kind, of course, but smothering and cruel all the same. At least if there were some sort of empire to fight over, she'd understand the heights of ambition her siblings possessed. Alas, no. She isn't giving up her soul for a few million dollars.

She isn't giving up expensive wine either, and at two hundred dollars a bottle, this little number is too pricey to be disappearing so quickly. It's a good thing she bought three, because the glutton she was raised to be still wins to the detriment of her more cultivated self sometimes. She'll blow a hole in her bank account at foreseeable intervals just to feel something.

But, unlike that hole, the one that's violently ripped into her window does not spark joy.

She's temporarily too dazed to scream, but when she sees the lumpy mass writhing on the carpet and registers its sporadic groans, staying calm becomes impossible.

"What the fuck?"

She repeats the sentiment a few more times before setting down the glass on the edge of the coffee table and getting off the couch at the farthest end from the window.

Her eyes know who that is, but her mind refuses to catch up. Why is he twitching like a crackhead? Why won't he stop twitching?

Ew, he's bleeding.

Cautiously (and a little wobbly) she approaches the twitching lump and dares to touch it, likely aided by the alcohol coursing her veins. It instantly backfires and she gets shocked backwards, feet barely missing his face, a small twitch now in her shoulder and tingles all over her tongue and forehead. The feeling must've returned some sharpness to her mind, because soon after she notices a small rectangular device on the heaving chest, right above where the spider's head ends - begins? It looks weird upside down. Three of the legs have been slashed into, and liquid that's darker than she expected now oozes out and onto her carpet. Is blood supposed to be that color? She's never seen this much of it to know.

Well, well… What to do in this predicament? Obviously, he's not dying on her living room floor and haunting the place. And if touching him is out of the question, what is a girl to do?

A dreadful idea pops into her head, but absent any other options and with urgency front and center, she reluctantly grabs the wine bottle from the table and pours its remaining contents directly over his chest. The twitching stops almost instantly, so her guess is that the rash decision was a success.

But he doesn't wake up. He keeps lying there motionless, no more sounds leaving him. He also keeps bleeding out on her carpet, and a brief vision of the police collecting his body from her apartment flashes across her mind. Unacceptable.

Now properly motivated, she first makes sure the wine really worked by touching the tip of her finger to the outer part of his left arm, relieved when no shock occurs and surprised by the softness of the fabric. To her credit, she does try to wake him up several times, each one less gentle than the last, but when no response emerges she has no choice but to pull something together resembling help.

When she stumbles dizzily on the way to the bathroom, she isn't sure which of them is more in need of assistance. Well, he is unconscious and bleeding out, so probably him - but the mirror reveals blood on her person that certainly did not come from him. On her shoulder and elbow there are several small and not so small gashes peppering the skin under  torn pyjamas. She didn't even notice that. Could be the buzz, or it could be the shock of having Spider-Man crash head-first through the living room window. Either way, she can figure those out later.

Grabbing as many clean towels as she can find, scissors and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, she makes her way back to the crash site. Great. Still passed out on the floor. Doing her best impression of first aid, she cuts away the bits of fabric that impede access to the wounds, calming herself by humming a random tune.

Pour some alcohol, dab with towel. Pour, dab. Pour, dab. Get cut on a shard of glass from lack of situational awareness. Check his breathing. Wonder if she's actually making things worse. Dab and pour. Pour and dab. Dab -

Her wrist is stopped mid-air by a firm grasp, and she jumps so far back that she cuts herself again, this time embedding a piece of glass in her palm.

"Fucking shit!"

In response, she hears a groan and a cough, both muffled by a mask that is soon lifted up and away. She stares in awe.

What. The fuck.

So slowly it might as well be at one frame per second, his head turns towards her and their eyes lock together. He blinks once and then again, and a tiny smile lifts one corner of his lips.

"Oh. Hey neighbor."

A/N: Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated. Feedback is crucial for writers and if you like a story, don’t hesitate to let us know :)

[spaceacethespookypansfanfics]

Not Alone

An angsty fic set when Kevin is literally fucking stabbed?? And you know, is left alone. I dunno. I projected way to hard on this man. Enjoy.

(Edit - realised this might need content/trigger warnings, uhhh, blood, panic attacks(?) and I guess stab wound, but nothings like graphically described)

If you were to ask Kevin on any other day, he’d probably say kids are fine. Not great. But fine. Sure they can be loud, obnoxious and just downright heartless sometimes but that doesn’t mean they don’t have some good points to them.

Sometimes kids are nice. They spill their collection of stupid—ahem—cool Halloween decorations (rubber spiders, plastic skeletons and even severed hands with actual (fake) blood coming out the stump) all over your pristine glass counter cause they just wanna show it all to you. That’s cute right?

Well, if you ask Kevin today, he’d adamantly tell you kids can go to hell and they can take their creepy-ass fuckin’ murder dolls with them.

God! Damn! It!

. . .

Blood’s slippery. Kevin always thought it was sticky, he didn’t realise it could be this slippery. Guess that’s what you get for thinking coloured cornstarch would be at all identical to the real thing.

Still. This seems really slippery? Worryingly slippery? Is there something wrong with him?

His hand keeps sliding down his leg when he presses down. Pressure right? That’s what you’re supposed to do to stop from dying right? Well he’s pressing and it’s not working; his hand just keeps moving like his leg’s a damn slip’n’slide or something.

Kevin looks over at the discarded, clearly ineffectual bubblegum Bandaid (that has no doubt introduced a ton of bacteria to his exposed system) and glares at it.

Those damn kids.

This is all their fault. Every bad thing that thrusts itself upon Kevin’s unsuspecting life is always their fault.

If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t be a living demon detector (can’t go to movie theatres anymore because his eyes glow in crowds now, it’s really distracting at the movies) if it weren’t for them, cops and dealers alike wouldn’t occasionally drop by the store for random drug busts and hold him at gun point (those do wonders for Kevin’s anxiety).

They’ve really outdone themselves this time around. Those two kids will be accredited with Kevin’s tragically and untimely but ultimately very boring death via murder doll.

Terrific.

The adrenaline has faded now. The blood just keeps going though, and Kevin doesn’t think he move anymore. Otherwise he’d be making his way over to the counter to grab his phone (he’d left it charging when he was attacked) to call for help.

He tries a subtle little shimmy to test the waters. Nope. Nope. Not happening. His entire leg is cold and hot and it’s throbbing and his hand keeps moving, it just keeps moving and moving and oh god it’s cold—it’s hot—and I’m alone— oh god I’m alone—no one’s going to find me—I’m going to die here—I’m going to die here cold and alone in a goddamn confectionery shop—I don’t even like candy—

“Kevin? You in there?” The jingle of the bell pulls Kevin from his torrential thoughts. The lights are still off and his vision is too blurry with tears and sweat, he can’t see who’s there. At least it’s someone. “Kevin?”

Wait? Is that Streber?

“Stre—Streber? I—over. . . over here.” Kevin wants to raise his voice, he wants to definitely be found but he also doesn’t want Streber to know he’s been crying either. Still that might not matter in the end of he dies here because his pride wouldn’t let him be loud enough.

There’s a quiet little gasp, the jingle of the bell, and hurried footsteps rushing towards him. Kevin wants to cry even more. Relief. Cry from relief. Not from pain. He’s not like, a baby or anything you know?

“Is—is that—is that blood?” The alarm in Streber’s voice mimics the alarm Kevin’s been feeling since he was stabbed. It makes him want to laugh. He doesn’t. Too scared it’ll hurt.

“Y—uh—yeah. It’s . . . blood. . . Was kinda stabbed. What—what are you doing here?” Kevin is slowly making out Streber’s silhouette hovering over him.

“Me? I’m—I was looking—wait nevermind that! You need to get to the hospital. Can you stand?” Streber doesn’t come any closer from what Kevin can tell, in fact, he takes a half step backwards.

Kevin places both palms flat on the floor and tries to push himself up. His right palm slips a bit on the smooth floor. Cold hot flashes run through him, the throbbing in his leg intensifying. Screaming in front of Streber would be way too embarrassing so Kevin practically shreds the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. He stops trying to get up. “Not really. Help?”

Streber hesitates again. He’s already abnormally stealthy but with the lights out and Kevin’s blurry vision, he’s especially hard to spot. Kevin would almost be scared he’s left him for dead if not for the bell staying silent.

“Streber?” Kevin knows he and Streber aren’t exactly close (they’re just barely friends through a mutual friend group) but surely Streber won’t actually leave him here?

“Right. Right. Okay. Hold on.” Streber sounds urgent and concerned. There’s a rustling of clothes and Kevin can just barely make out Streber’s quiet little muttering of effort. His muttering is replaced with the bright flash of his phone screen. Streber must be calling for help.

Good. Because the idea of only having Streber to move him to the hospital seems like cruel and unjust punishment, all that moving and jostling and bleeding, oh god it’s still bleeding—I’m still bleeding—this is it I’m going to die—

“Kevin, what’s wrong? Hey—hey! Stay with me here. Ke—Kevin, hey.” Something frigid is on Kevin’s face. It shocks his system back into order. Streber’s hands are so much colder than should be humanly possible. On any other day Kevin might hate the feel, but right now, it’s a welcomed change to the cold hot flashes he’s been experiencing.

“Breathe Kevin, it’s okay. Help’s coming.” Has Streber’s voice always been this comforting? There’s something strained about it though, like he’s clenching his teeth. Maybe he’s scared of blood.

Streber starts breathing exaggeratedly and it takes Kevin’s brain a full second to catch on that he’s supposed to copy him. But it gets there and he follow’s Streber’s example.

Once the fog clears, Kevin just wants to shut down. The throbbing in his leg hasn’t subsided but it’s numb. His eyelids are too heavy and everything’s blurry anyway so Kevin let’s them fall. He just barely hears Streber talking as he drifts.

“That’s it. Okay. It’s okay Kevin. Help’s coming. You’ll be okay.”

There’s a siren in the distance but Kevin doesn’t pay any mind to it. He’s too focused on the refreshing chill of Streber’s hands on his face and the sound of Streber’s quiet voice spilling words of comfort.

It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s not alone.

[heliads]

Tom Peter Parker x male Kryptonian reader

During infinity war - endgame please 💞

Reader being one of the first people to notice the attack about to go on so he’s with the team in Wakanda but he’s been worried ab peter, and when they blip Peters the last thing on his mind - them reuniting during the final battle and it being cute

masterlist

You are boarding a bus for a school field trip when something in the back of your head screams for you to go. You freeze up halfway up the stairs, causing someone following you too closely to almost run into you. You glance around, but can’t see anything wrong. That doesn’t mean that there’s no danger, though, only that it isn’t yet upon you.

The kid behind you swats your backpack and tells you to move. Instead, you shove past them and head back down the bus stairs. The sensation that something is wrong keeps building, and you know for a fact that this is something you need to check out yourself. The last time you got a feeling like this, the Avengers were in grave danger.

Needless to say, this isn’t something you can ignore. The teacher supervising your bus for the field trip tries to stop you, but you mutter something about forgetting that you had a doctor’s appointment scheduled later that day and take off before they can do anything. You glance back once before you disappear around a corner, and the teacher is sighing and directing the bus to close its doors.

That’s good– whatever’s coming, you don’t want anyone looking for you. You’ll be preoccupied with other matters for now, even if a trip to the Museum of Modern Art had actually sounded pretty cool. You were interested in this field trip for the same reason that it’s ridiculous that you would ever need to go to the doctor:  you’re not human.

Contrary to what most of your classmates think, you were not born on Earth. Your home planet, Krypton, exploded when you were just a baby. Your parents had barely enough time to send you away before the entire planet went to hell, and by some twist of fate, you ended up here.

It was hard to fit in with the rest of the kids. That was partially because of any kid’s new school jitters, but also because you’ve got abilities that most students don’t. That includes fun things like super strength, super speed, and flight, just to name a few. Your adoptive parents from Earth had to teach you early on how to hide the things that made you stand out, all so you wouldn’t get caught by the rest of your classmates.

Well, your adoptive parents and S.H.I.E.L.D., in all honesty. It didn’t take long for the spy organization to stumble upon you, and of course they’d never let someone as powerful as you go if they could avoid it. You don’t mind it, though. S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you a job with the Avengers when you were older, and it lets you help the people who need it most. You think that’s what your birth parents and everyone who died on Krypton would have wanted for you. You represent a dead race; you might as well represent it well.

So no, Avenging wasn’t the worst summer job a bored teenage boy could have. To make matters better, it let you meet your boyfriend. Peter Parker’s a damn special kid, even without his status as Spider-Man. You’re glad to have him around, both in your regular life and as an Avenger. Most days you don’t know what you’d do without him around.

You wonder if he’s sensing this weird phenomenon right now. Peter’s got reflexes like yours, a sort of knack for when things are going wrong. He ended up on a different bus than you, so hopefully he’s watching out for his friends, too. At the moment, you have to watch out for yourself.

You grab your phone and call one of the most important numbers saved to it. Steve Rogers picks up pretty quickly. You’re not supposed to be able to contact him, especially since he went undercover following the fallout from the Sokovia Accords, but the two of you have had each other’s backs for a while. You’ve got similar moral codes, and when you need help, you can always count on him.

You speak as you rush further from the buses, still searching in vain for some sign of whatever’s giving you trouble. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, though. I just get the feeling that we’re about to be attacked.”

Steve sighs, the sound crackling into static over your phone. “Yeah, we got that. Aliens.”

You grimace, forgetting for a moment that he can’t see the expression. “Again? They’re giving us extraterrestrials a bad name.”

“Sorry, kid,” Steve chuckles, “it’ll have to be up to you to be the resident nice UFO. Wanda and Vision were just attacked by some otherworldly soldiers. Nat, Sam, and I had their backs, but the situation needs to be handled anyway.”

You nod. “Can I meet you somewhere?”

“We’d be more than happy to have you on our side,” Steve says. “If you meet us near the Wakandan border, we can pick you up.”

“See you in a few minutes,” you tell him, then hang up.

Before you head over, there’s one last thing you need to take care of, and that’s your boyfriend. You fire off a quick text to Peter:  problems with the day job. stay alert. i’m headed to wakanda to meet w cap.

He’ll know what you mean, or he can guess. The ‘day job’ is your code word for Avengers business. You’ve both used it for a while now. Peter responds soon enough:  gotcha. be safe.

you too, you tell him, then turn off your phone to preserve battery. You duck into an alley, then wait until no one’s watching and quickly take to the sky. You’re able to fly faster than any plane, so Steve having a leg up on you doesn’t matter much. After a few minutes, you’re slowing down near the Wakandan border. You find Steve’s ship soon enough, and then you’re inside the border and marveling at the nation passing by below you.

Although you’ve heard much about Wakanda, you’ve never had a chance to visit yourself. You wish that you could slow down to admire the landscape, but time is of the essence. Steve fills you in as you fly further towards the capital city. 

Apparently some guy named Thanos is after six Infinity Stones, one of which is currently stuck in Vision’s head. You’re all headed to Wakanda in the hopes of removing it without needing to kill Vision before Thanos arrives at Earth. The guy’s goal is to kill half of the universe’s population, which really isn’t something you like.

Soon enough, you’re waiting anxiously with some of the other Avengers while you watch Shuri begin the process of removing the stone. She’s clearly moving as quickly as she can, but the operation is quite involved. This isn’t going to be an easy fix, no matter how much you’d like it to be one.

Still, you can’t help but hope she’d hurry even more. Armies are amassing on the other side of the Wakandan border, and although T’Challa has pledged the help of his soldiers in the defense of the planet, there are so many enemy fighters that you have no idea how you’ll be able to hold out forever. All you have to do is protect Shuri and Vision long enough to get out the stone and destroy it before Thanos can get to it, but even that seems difficult.

To make matters worse, Peter’s in danger, too. He texted you a while later saying that he’d also left the field trip, having picked up on some trouble of his own. Last you heard, he was fighting aliens in New York with Tony and Bruce, along with some wizard guy named Dr. Strange, but even the presence of the other Avengers isn’t a guarantee of his safety.

As you stand on a hill overlooking what you have no doubt will soon be your battlefield, you can’t help but feel tension locking up your joints. 

By your side, Steve glances at you, evidently picking up on your sense of unease. “Everything alright over there?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you admit, “it’s Peter.”

Steve nods understandingly. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” you say, “I can’t hear his heartbeat. I don’t think he’s dead, but he’s too far away from me to pick up on him anymore. It was like he was rising into the air, but I can’t sense him anymore. I think he might be somewhere in space.”

Steve whistles under his breath. “Maybe he and some of the others are after the Stones as well. Here’s to hoping that they succeed if we don’t.”

You nod. “I just wish I knew if he was alright.”

Steve puts a hand on your shoulder. “Look, Peter’s a tough kid, he’ll be fine. If you’re going to worry about anyone,” he adds, looking past you at the waves of enemy soldiers crouching just beyond the Wakandan border, “worry about us. We’ve got an army on our hands that needs to be dealt with.”

He’s not wrong. Thanos’ army finds a way to push through the barriers, and then they’re all pouring through and you’re charging down towards them. You fight as you know best, as hard as you can. Every battle with the Avengers feels like the fight of your lives, but somehow, it registers in the back of your head that this is far more serious than anything before it. This could literally be the end of days if Thanos manages to get his hands on all of the Infinity Stones before you can destroy them. This is what matters most.

Despite this urgent need, despite all of you fighting as hard as you can, it doesn’t work. You take down ten soldiers and twenty take their place. It’s as if the enemy fighters are one endless horde. No matter how long the battle wages, they don’t ever seem to tire, nor do their numbers drop.

By contrast, your team is staggering. You can’t stop seeing fallen Wakandan soldiers on the ground, and slowly, you and the other Avengers are forced further towards the trees. Out of desperation, Wanda joins the fight, but then Vision is left unprotected. He takes to the battlefield as well, and then Thanos appears, and you feel like you might be sick to your stomach.

The logic racing through your head is terrifying. If Thanos is here, and, judging by the stones glimmering in his massive gauntlet, he’s only missing the one in Vision’s head. That means he managed to secure all of the rest, and that means wherever Peter is, he, Tony, and Bruce failed in their quest to slow Thanos down.

You have no idea if Peter is still alive. Your boyfriend isn’t the type of guy to back down from a fight, which you love about him, but also could spell his end. The only thing you can do is win this fight and go find him afterwards, but even this is impossible.

Before you know it, Thanos is descending upon you, and despite you trying everything, every maneuver you’ve ever learned, he manages to get past you. He has to use the power of the Infinity Stones, and it takes him time and effort, but he still does it. You end up crumpled on the ground, watching as he plucks the final Infinity Stone from Vision’s head. Not even Thor’s arrival makes a difference. Thanos snaps his fingers with an axe buried in his chest, and then it is all over.

Death is easy, actually. You thought it would hurt more, but Thanos had injured you enough that the loss of pain was a relief. Bucky goes first, disappearing into a cloud of ash. Steve turns to you, hand outstretched, but you can’t take it.

“Peter,” you croak out, “Find Peter. Find–”

You can’t manage anything after that. It’s dark.

And then– and then it’s light.

You open your eyes and you’re back on the ground. Nothing hurts, but you’re not dead, you’re healed. Bucky’s leaning over you, offering a hand and telling you that it’s time to go. You accept his offer of help and stand up, watching more people materialize around you. There’s a massive glowing ring of sparks looming overhead. Someone tells you that you all have to go through it to get ready for the final fight, and you do so without question.

On the other side, you find yourself in a new battlefield. It’s dusty and destroyed, but still Earth, you think. Thanos has a new army, but when you look left and right, hundreds of people are running out of similar portals as yours. You’ve got yourself a legion too, and you’d bet on yours way more.

Steve begins the charge somewhere at the front, and you launch yourself into the battle with renewed vengeance. You have no idea how he managed to bring all of you back, but you’re not letting this second chance slip away from you again.

In the middle of all the fighting, though, you’re looking for someone. You can see a silhouette swinging through the chaos, which fills you with an indescribable amount of relief, but every time you try to meet him, he’s swinging somewhere else. You’re just about to give up on trying to find him until after the battle, and then you touch down briefly on the ground and he’s right there behind you, yanking off his mask so you can see his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Y/N,” he breathes, and he’s running to you, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to make it to your side.

You embrace him like a dying man. Maybe you are. It’s the closest you’ve ever felt to being a human. “Peter,” you say, “Peter, I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” he grins, “you were too, remember? We got totally dusted.”

“We’re back, though,” you say, mussing up his hair.

“We are,” he laughs, and kisses you.

You are still standing in the middle of a raging war, but for once– for once the voice in the back of your head tells you something good. It tells you that you are going to win, and you believe it. How could you not? It sounds exactly like Peter, and he would never lie to you.

marvel tag list: @namoreno,  @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver

[szagaloree]

His wife

Chapter 11🩷

A/n: so excited to bring this back hope you guys enjoy🫶🏾

Consists| angst/swearing/smut/fluff/sadness/mentions of death/depression

The night was glowing, the bioluminescents sparkling in the night. The screeches from the ikrans flying around the human camp. The beautiful sound of rain on the shack of their home has gwen sound asleep, Quaritch brushed his fingers over her soft blue skin as he tried to sleep himself but he couldn’t, something was keeping him awake. Decisions…. Decisions…. To much to handle… Quaritch sighed carefully leaning up, rubbing his tired face. Deciding to get up he did but make sure he didn’t wake up gwen, when he did he went into the bathroom. Luckily there was a spare avatar room for strictly na’vi since Jake and his family or even a few of omaticaya’s clan members, but right now it homes them since they don’t have a human body to go to like the other avatar drivers here in camp.

He huffs with a groan as he look himself in the mirror.

Why should he choose this life? Why should he turn a new leaf? Start over? Apparently eyes is giving him a chance or giving him karma? Quaritch walks out the bathroom to her mumbling whining from gwen, her mumble pleas for him to come back to bed made his ears fall back. Man do he miss his wife, those vivid memories of them were clear, not all has came back but it was clear enough.

Quaritch decides to get back in bed with her and go back to sleep till the morning.

Spider was running around the camp bored, since he as no one to play with due to Jake and his family leaving. Everyone kept their eyes on quaritch not trusting not one bit, but Quaritch didn’t care for them or their trust he just want his wife and son. Gwen had just arrived back, she had pulled a scheme that her and Quaritch is dead, by taking both their chains with their names on it and somehow putting somewhere at the entrance with animal blood on it to make it look like it was theirs. Hopefully that’s enough for them to not even look for both of them.

Spider had plopped next to Quaritch huffing, “what’s wrong you boy?” Quaritch had asked spider, “nothing, bored.. mom’s back,” he says. Gwen rubs her head in frustration as she walks over to them, “it work?” Quaritch asked, she shrugs “only time will tell,” she sighed, Quaritch stood up, “kid, give me and your mom a second we need to talk,” he said to spider, spider got up and head over to the others leaving them alone.

“If this backfired on me,” he said, “and if it does? Going back you’ll be in a body bag,” she said, he hummed looking around, “so you gonna teach me their ways?” He asks, “no, you do not deserve it..Atleast not yet, you will see Jake and he’ll deal with you on that if he doesn’t kill you,” she says, he grunted “sully!” He hissed out the name, “I just hope I don’t get the blow,” she huffs “what do you mean by that?” He asked.

“Because Jake doesn’t know you’re here and alive!” She said.

“He’s gonna kill me when he finds out, fuck! Neytiri definitely will kill you as soon as she hears your name, Jake he would but I don’t know, then they’ll look at me, probably fully blown banish me, and I cannot loose my son,” gwen says in worry, it’s to many possibilities, now it’s a matter of what if! She doesn’t know if she should even let them know! Because they would go haywire. She grunted before shaking her head finally coming to a decision, “I’m going to go to them but I may not come until Atleast two days,” she shrugs “you sure about that?” He questions.

She looks at him “have no choice,” she said turning around.

“You will stay here,” she said walking away….

As she did, Quaritch was following…

To be continued…

A/n:HEWOO!🖤 it’s been a while ikkkk! I’m slowly coming back but I wanted to give you guys more of this Bkuss it gone crazy last year durin the time avatar the way of the water came out!🥺so I wanna try to continue it this year of 2024 working on his wife! I do kinda want to continue eywa’s gift from hell too! But idk I’m taken it one by one rn! Hope you guys enjoyed give it a like and reblog🩷🫶🏾

[starlooove]

Saw a vid about supersons and Minecraft and it was so stupid and wrong what in the world makes you think Damian would be killing everything even in peaceful mode like wtf. Anyways here are some TRUE SUPERSONS MINECRAFT FACTS NOT CLICKBAIT 100% REAL (plus Colin bc he’s my son now)

-They argue about what mode they should be in: Damian argued for hard mode bc they’re built like that and jon agreed but he just wanted to fight smh. Colin was the only with common sense bc he knows they’ve never played Minecraft before and starting in hard mode would not only be difficult but boring if they won. They go normal

- Jon is the miner, Colin gathers the food, Damian builds the house

-Damian gets lost because he refuses to pull up coordinates and his memory SHOULD help him but he is so entirely laser focused on collecting materials that by the time he’s done he doesn’t even remember what biome he just came from 💀

- Damian goes above and beyond for the house ok; he will only mine for that, and Jon hates it bc Damian finds veins of like 8 diamonds and will only take enough for his pickaxe and axe. He will NOT share bc he needs a backup

-Jon spends DAYS in cave systems and he’s actually much better at finding mineshafts than anybody should be. He finds dungeons and dies immediately bc he turns the player around to inform Colin and Damian as if they’re all physically there

-Colin thinks it’s fair to keep inventory or go creative to get special loot back, Jon thinks it’s not. Damian didn’t care until he realized turning creative or cheats on means no achievements. The option is never considered again.

-Colin kills the sheep for the beds and a few chickens then immediately begins to set up the most intricate and complicated farm you’ve ever seen. Yes he’s a redstone guy. Understands it deeply in a way Damian and Jon are too scared to ask about. They always mine any redstone they see for him.

-Colin likes Diamond the most, Damian Iron, and Jon Gold (Damian tells him he’s stupid bc it provides 0 protection and Jon is like “but I look so good tho” and Colin calls him tacky

- Love villages and villagers and trading all of them

-Damian tames an iron golem. Nobody knows how and an investigation should be launched bc that’s not a game mechanic but whenever anyone asks Damian shrugs and the other two say “it could sense his gentle nature :3”

-They never actually defeat the Ender Dragon whenever it gets too close to that they find an excuse to create a new world and start all over bc they don’t rlly wanna finish it (they say they’re saving that achievement for a special occasion)

-Jon is Steve, Damian is Alex, Colin has a new skin everyweek.

-They find servers based off of cities and will pretend to be the cities heroes 😭

-Got kicked out of the Gotham server for calling their portrayal of spoiler inaccurate and refusing to change their skins (they were the birds of prey)

-Damián is currently building a whole BludHaven since there wasn’t one available. Hes going to leave it open where Dick can see so he doesn’t have to do something gross and mushy like go up and tell him about it

-Damian’s aim is TRASH in game and he can’t survive a single night. Not bc he can’t figure it out he just wants to have fun man he does not care about these mobs; if the house is already built and he’s just sprucing up the farm he will get killed over and over he doesn’t care

-try to go to bed at night but Jon is in the caves and forgot his bed, Colin died and lost all his shit before setting spawn so he has to find them now, and Damian doesn’t really feel like it bc Patricia (the chicken) is far more Interesting than a bed right now.

-Damian’s favorite mob is the spider and his least favorite is the creeper. Colin’s least favorite is the Zombie and his favorite is the Skeleton. Jon says his favorite is the creeper but it’s actually the Enderman, his least fave is the skeleton bc they ALWAYS kill him since he refuses to make a shield.

-Colin turned too fast and thought Jon outta the corner of his eye was herobrine. They abandoned that server immediately.

-Colin’s inventory is always overflowing bc he always thinks he might need literally anything he’s ever seen. Damian WOULD be the same way but he just has an entire chest room where he hoards everything. Jon does not care he will throw away a diamond pickaxe if the endurance bar is less than half bc it ruins the aesthetic. Never has what he needs when he needs it.

-none of them like going underwater but Damian and the only one who likes the desert is Jon. The only one who will go into the nether first is Colin (as in the other two will only go after Colin has torches, pathways, any signs of life in there. Matter of fact most of the time they refuse to go unless Colin’s found a fortress and made it easily accessible). They line up anything they need to get from these areas so they’re all branched off at the same time.

-Colin has an actual diary in game that he updates as if it’s real. Damian has one in Colins chest just in case someone else enters the server.

-Jon has 50 dogs and calls the cats too difficult and annoying to tame. Damian kills him. Colin has like 20 cats and is always begging Damian to get him more fish. Damian actually only has a few select animals as he prefers to let them roam around the yards he builds (catered to their home environments ofc.) noticeable ones include: Richard the Golem, Duke the bumblebee, Patricia the chicken and her mate Penelope, Joshua the horse, and Cassandra the parrot. (He has so many parrots guys it’s insane)

-none of them have the actual game sounds on they hate the music and it gives them all headaches. (Not projecting at all) They all listen to Lofi while playing or some shit. They have never gone a session without getting killed by a creeper at least twice.

-they tried to play hunger games once and they just got bored. Now bedwars and speedrun? That’s their shit. DO NOT play against them in hide and seek bruh they get together and start revolutions to kill the seekers they’re so annoying 😭 they’ve gotten banned so many times but they ask Barbara, and then Vic when she gets tired of it, to unban them.

That’s kinda it idk

Family bonus:

-They have one server where they don’t do much for friends and family to play. Nobody else is really all that interested in Minecraft but they see the kids playing and wanna fuck with em so 😕

-Jason’s a flower collector, he gets privileges bc he knows exactly which flowers Damian wants in front of the house and acts accordingly. Cass is this way when It comes to woods and Duke when it comes to carpets and paintings.

-Damian wants to let Dick play but he’s wary bc dick has been killed by Duke the bee so many times and his final straw was when Dick hit Richard the golem on accident and killed it instead of letting it kill him. He’s banned. Richard II was then tamed.

-Tim isnt banned but he doesn’t play bc he saw Colins redstone minecart rollercoaster thing when he was first starting and offered suggestions until Colin got fed up and chewed him out so bad he quit.

-Duke adds something new to the mansion (built by Damian and Steph who apparently has an eye for decor) everytime he goes and it always fits in seamlessly. He is the only sibling allowed on one of Damian’s servers that’s not the family one. He cherishes this. Dick could have the privilege but Damian still hasn’t forgiven him for Richard I.

-Cass doesn’t play often but when she does she LOOOOVES enchanting. She will do it for hours and get the best ones for their main armor and weapons and then really specific convoluted shit for fun. Her goal is to have one sword/chestplate/etc. for each enchantment available on item frames in the manor.

-Steph doesn’t fuck with Minecraft but she goes in to dye the sheep and change the names of everything. Damian bans her. She bribed Babs to let her back in. Damian names a cat after Barbara and snitches when Steph changes the name. Steph mentions that the cat wasn’t taken care of and was used for this purpose. They are at a standstill.

-Kon likes to blow everything up and he banned himself after he made Jon cry. He only goes into the server to fight mobs and give loot as a peace offering. Damian has forgiven him, Colin hasn’t.

- Clark and Bruce go in once and speedrun the entire game, defeat the ender dragon get every achievement etc. worst mistake bc the server is now creative friendly. There is nothing friendly about it.

-Every single person will get on Colin’s roller coaster and go “weeee!” The entire way. He’s flattered.

-The death count on that server is astronomical. Almost all of them are accidents.

[kirk-says-wah]

Hey, I hope you're doing good.

I wanted to ask if you could continue the famous tennis player Lars/comic store worker Kirk AU and them introducing James and Jason to each other and those two having instant crushes on each other.

Thank you for the ask!

You can also read it here!

“I think it’ll be a good idea.”

After being with Lars for two months, Kirk’s been pestering James about Lars’s friend, Jason or something. James doesn’t really get why, because he’s not really looking for a relationship, and he has enough friends. He doesn’t want knew ones.

James just sighs, pulling on his work boots.

“Kirk, will you just leave it?” he says, a little exasperated, but Kirk just crosses his arms, his curls landing in his face.

“Lars said he’s gonna stop by the shop today to see me, but he always brings Jason because Jason always has to buy something.”

James pulls on his laces, lifting a brow.

“So?”

“So,” Kirk starts, brushing the hair from his face, “if you come to work with me, you’ll be able to meet him.”

James just shakes his head, wriggling his foot into his other boot.

“I don’t think so. I’ve got work.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kirk says, smile impish. “I already called Dave and told him you were sick.”

James pauses, not quite believing what Kirk just said. He lets go of his boot.

“Fucker. You can’t just do that.”

Kirk shrugs, grabs his bag from the where it’s been dumped on the floor.

“Now are you coming with me or not?”

— —

James doesn’t go to Kirk’s shop very often. He doesn’t like shopping as it is, and he’s never been into comic books. So he feels a little awkward when Kirk makes him sit behind the desk, guarding the little action figures that have just come into stock.

He spends most of his time on his phone, bored out of his mind as Kirk potters around the shop.

Finally, around noon, the shop door opens, the bell ringing, and Kirk’s squeal of excitement has James looking up.

Kirk runs into Lars’s arms, pulling him into a hug so tight it has the tennis player grunting with the effort. James has only met Lars a handful of times, but only briefly. Though, they definitely make a cute couple, especially when Lars presses a quick kiss to Kirk’s lips.

It only lasts a second before Lars is shoved a little, stumbling into Kirk’s chest as a taller man with long wavy hair barges past, snickering at the way Lars has to grab onto Kirk to keep himself upright.

James meets Kirk’s eyes then, who points at the guy before giving him a thumbs up. James mutters to himself, going back to guarding the little figures on the desk.

He can’t help but let his gaze drift upwards though eventually, because like… yeah this new guy’s kinda hot. He’s got a cute little baby face, but a strong jaw and blue eyes that make James all gooey, and he almost turns to putty when those eyes finally land on him.

His cheeks burn and he looks away, clearing his throat, fingers flicking open a comic over the counter like he’d been reading it this whole time.

“Dude, is that spider man?”

The unknown voice makes James’s head jerks up, finding the young man, Jason? Is that what Kirk called him?, standing on the other side of the counter.

James’s eyes hesitantly flick back to the comic book in his hands and well.. he’s just gonna agree because he doesn’t know.

He nods, and Jason tilts his head.

“What edition is it?”

“Errrr…” James turns to the front page, feeling a little stupid, finding the numbers at the top. “327?”

Jason gives a breathy laugh, hands sliding into his back pockets.

“You’re not into comics, are you?”

A smile spreads across James’s face, and he ducks his head.

“You caught me,” he says, shutting the comic. He notices Jason’s dressed in tennis clothes like Lars, ugly shoes and white polo.

“Does Lars drag you here every time he wants to see Kirk?”

Jason grins, jerking his eyes back over to where Lars and Kirk are. They’re huddled between the shelves, mumbling amongst themselves. Lars must say something particularly funny because Kirk hiccups a laugh, muffling it with his palm.

“No, it’s mostly the other way around. I love this shop, it’s my fault they met because I kept dragging Lars here after to practice.”

James nods, leaning back in his chair.

“So I guess I have you to blame then. Kirk will not stop talking about Lars, and he’s crossed so many boundaries,” he says, cringing, thinking about all those times Kirk’s overshared. There are things about Kirk and Lars’s relationship he could really live without knowing.

Jason giggles, scratching at his jaw.

“I’m guessing you heard about the handcuff incident then?”

James pulls a face, wincing. “Who the fuck hasn’t? I really could’ve lived without having to tell Kirk that yes, that can happen and no, he doesn’t need to go to the doctors. I swear, I sometimes wonder why I’m friends with him.”

Jason cackles, head throwing back a little.

“Fuck, Lars is the exact same. Sometimes I think it’s a better fate to blow my brains out than have to listen to him compare their dick sizes.”

James laughs, way too loudly for the little shop, and it catches Kirk and Lars’s attention.

“What are you two talking about?” Lars half yells from the aisle, poking his head round the corner.

James can’t answer, smothering his laugh into the back of his hand, whole body shaking.

“I’m just telling James about the conversation you made me sit through last night,” Jason says with a little shrug.

James watches as Lars’s face flickers through several emotions, firstly realisation, then panic, anger, then finally shame, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Oh, fuck you,” Lars mumbles, turning his back to them as Kirk gives a bemused look. James just laughs harder, head bowing as he fights for air.

When he looks back up, Jason is staring at him, a big grin on his face.

“Y’know if you ever wanna hang out without those two…” Jason starts, before sliding a piece of paper under James’s hand.

James arches a brow, picking up the paper. It’s got Jason’s number on it, and all of a sudden he feels hot and light headed. He swallows, nods.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

[elxsticlxve]

{ooc} Anonymous inquired;--  Hisoka doesn't seem to be the type that allows things to stir in his mind but we all have our faults from time to time. Has there ever been something that has truly perplexed and lingered in his mind for days that either upset him or bothered him?

≺ooc≻

First, of all- I dig this question a lot. Thank you for taking the time to send this in! But I think before I answer that I’d like to talk about just how obsessive this man is. How possessive, even. How he’s claimed in his head the people he’s decided are worthy enough to fall to his hand and his hand alone, and how he even went as far as to threaten someone who is of great benefit to him for the purpose of his possession. Even then it didn’t feel like a threat, it felt like a promise. You kill that boy and I won’t hesitate to end your life. That’s HIS kill. He’s the one who gets to snuff that light from his eyes and he decided that the very moment he stood up to him. The same goes for various other characters too. It’s a very ‘I licked it therefore it’s mine’ sort of mentality. Except this isn’t a case of hoarding it to himself it’s a matter of ‘I’m going to be the one to play with this toy until it breaks.’ A part of this also comes from his mindset that he is superior. He lacks fear but isn’t a stranger to being taken off guard either. I feel that if he is ever genuinely taken aback he would applaud it. He isn’t going to take someone outsmarting him as an insult. Instead, all it serves to do is wiggle that metaphorical string even more. I’ve often joked that he’s like a cat. Wiggle that string in his face and he’ll take notice, but just like a cat there's a moment to pounce, and he might not want to lunge for it just yet. Something that I’ve been doing since day one with this muse (and I’m totally about to out myself here to those of you who didn’t notice) is that I’ve had him say things incorrectly or insinuate things incorrectly on PURPOSE. Him making an assumption and then your muse comes in and corrects him or even shows a bit of smugness from him being incorrect? That’s all a part of it. He knows he can learn a lot by watching and listening and as any true showman isn’t opposed to taking a pie in the face so long as it serves as part of his act. He knows most people won’t tell him things outwardly, so he uses his own ego and suave way of talking to lure people into basically going ‘AH HES WRONG! I’LL SHOW HIM I GOT HIM NOW!” Oops. You just gave him the info. If there’s something he wishes to know about then he’ll find a way to figure it out. But as far as things that might haunt him? There isn’t anything there to haunt him besides his own hubris and apatite for the blood of the worthy and fearsome. He is constantly thinking about the things he obsesses over. The people. Fighting a spider for example- I think it’s safe to say that his obsession with Chrollo is so bad that he not ONLY missed out on an entire pandemic of beast men but he also had no idea that the chairmen died. These things had to be told to him. In a world filled with people who would chatter and squawk about the subjects, you’d think he’d at least overhear those things, right? But he didn’t. He was that focused. It had to be told to his face because he was that intent on chasing someone. Even then the chase itself wouldn’t have been enough to enrage him enough to stoop. If anything the only thing that served to bother him was just how BORED he was getting chasing Chrollo around and not getting anything out of it after a while. So him stopping to take a break and check things out during the election arc makes sense? Even he has to stop and recharge his batteries. But then he was still watching and rating the hunters around him. But not a single one caught his attention the way his target captivated him.

Speaking of I find it just so FUNNY that he began chasing this guy for so long like a kitty chasing a can of tuna DESPITE HIM BEING SO INTELLIGENT? Sir are you okay? Do you have it down that bad? The answer is yes. Chrollo is really out here going ‘pspspspsps’ and this idiot is going for it.

But the answer to your question nonnie is a hard ‘no’. The only thing that lingers in his mind is his vice for lust fueled carnage.

[pr0crastin]

The Peter and MJ coffee shop au no one asked for

Being Spider-Man is really cool. Peter gets to wear a really cool suit with his own AI (shoutout to Mr Stark thanks man), swing from buildings, and save people, which is really cool.

He’s not big like the avengers or those guys who saved the galaxy (or something). But even being a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, he has his hands full.

Well except sometimes he doesn’t have his hands full and that’s the problem.

No look. He is always busy with patrol, but patrol doesn’t necessarily mean there will be someone to save every hour.

(And Peter hopes it stays that way. It’s not like he’s eager to save people- no that came out wrong- it’s not like he thinks people should always need saving- no wait he doesn’t mean they should save themselves- it’s not like he wants people to be in trouble and need to be saved-did he get it right-)

The bottom line is that sometimes he’s sitting on the edge of the top of a building and Mr Stark is off saving the world and he specifically said that calling to talk about May’s new haircut does not count as an emergency (even though it is an emergency because she should not be allowed to go out looking like that) and Ned’s busy building a new Star Wars ship (which Peter did seriously consider but what if one of the bad guys held an important Lego piece hostage? Peter can’t say that he wouldn’t do the villain’s bidding to get it back) and Peter is bored.

Being a superhero doesn’t mean he’s always in on some action (which again, it’s not like he wants there to be action- like action where people get hurt or-). A lot of the time he has to sit there and swing his legs back and forth. Sometimes civilians on their balconies will strike up two minute conversations, but even boring old Miss Hubbard has her fifteen cats to tend to.

Anyways, Peter needs a book.

Apparently neither Peter nor his aunt have ever read a book before, if the absolute lack of novels in their apartment Is anything to go by. And as thrilling as the theory of quantum physics is, the excitement is more in the physical work, where he can actually get his hands dirty, so Peter can’t argue that he won’t fall asleep reading his textbooks on patrol.

He mentions the book thing over dinner. May tells him that she’s seen a little bookstore a couple of blocks away from her office on her way to work, and Peter returns the favour by helpfully telling her she should invest in a beanie. She does not take kindly to that and Peter is now on clean up duty for the next two weeks.

The bookstore is a quaint little place with a brick walled front that reminds Peter of England. He’s never even been to England. One of the two glass windows on either side of the olive green door features shiny novels in plastic covering, as well as a handwritten sign advertising the available deals on used books.

A bell jangles as he steps inside. It’s all very cute. The size of the store, he discovers, doesn’t lie in its width but rather it’s length. An open ceiling boasts three floors worth of bookshelves, with a staircase smack bang in the middle. The stairs, which start from the ground floor, spiral till the third one, and it’s only standing at the foot of them that you can see where the ceiling ends.

No one appears to be at the cash register, which is pressed to the wall right in the beginning of the store.

He takes a minute to inhale the smell of coffee, lamination, and highlighters (though his spidey sense does also detect a hint of powdered sugar?) before calling out to empty space in front of him.

“Anyone here?”

“No, the owner has a habit of not hiring anyone and leaving the store empty for customers to help themselves.”

A girl slips out of what looks like a storage room behind the counter, and fixes him with an unimpressed looked. The beanie pulled low over her head allows enough of her hair to peek through for him to see that it is a mass of frizzy curls.

He greets her with an unsure smile. “Hey. I’m looking for a book.”

Maybe the girl isn’t trying to look unimpressed with him. Maybe that’s just the way her face is.

“Really? You’ll probably have better luck at the Five Guys across the road then.”

Peter recognises dry humour all too well when he sees it; Tony Stark seems to have an endless supply of it at his disposal and Peter spends a lot of time around the sarcastic billionaire. But it takes him a moment to figure out how to reply.

“I just meant that- that I..I need a recommendation.”

“I’m a cashier, not your personal shopper.”

Despite her semi harsh words, the girl is not mean in her manner of speech. She just says everything with a very straight (unimpressed) face, as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than ringing up books for chatty customers at a quaint little bookstore.

“Humor me anyway,” Peter crosses to the counter. “I have a lot of free time and I get bored. I need something to do.”

“Get a job,” she mutters noncommittally and he has to bite his tongue from saying ‘I have a job as Spider-Man does that count?’

“You’re not very good at this whole customer service thing are you,” he huffs out a little laugh. The stare she replies with is direct eye contact so unnerving that Peter scrambles to add “ma’am,” as if to tell her that he’s not trying to mess with her. He resists the urge to salute the way he’s seen Captain Rogers do, in fear of overdoing it.

“Right,” she says, more to herself than him, and disappears into the room behind the counter. Peter wonders if he has chased her back into hiding, before she reappears, a shiny new book in her hand.

“That’ll be $5.99.”

He stares at her stupidly for a second, before quickly getting his wallet out of his backpack and handing her a ten dollar note.

She doesn’t blink twice at the crumpled paper, scanning the book on the machine with a resounding beep. He’d ask if they have those first time customer discounts, but the prospect of being on the receiving end of her stare again is enough to keep him from enquiring.

She must save the store a lot of money; he doubts many people would risk asking her about a discount.

Her fingers click against the keyboard for a few seconds before the familiar sound of a receipt being printed is heard.

“Have a nice day,” she first hands him his change and then a brown paper bag, speaking in a monotonous way which suggests that she couldn’t care less if he falls in a puddle on his way out.

Despite it all, Peter finds himself smiling as he leaves to make his way to patrol, a brand new book clutched to his chest.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing advice #?: Have your characters wash the dishes while they talk.

This is one of my favorite tricks, picked up from E.M. Forester and filtered through my own domestic-homebody lens.  Forester says that you should never ever tell us how a character feels; instead, show us what those emotions are doing to a character’s posture and tone and expression.  This makes “I felt sadness” into “my shoulders hunched and I sighed heavily, staring at the ground as my eyes filled with tears.”  Those emotions-as-motions are called objective correlatives.  Honestly, fic writers have gotten the memo on objective correlatives, but sometimes struggle with how to use them.

Objective correlatives can quickly become a) repetitive or b) melodramatic.  On the repetitive end, long scenes of dialogue can quickly turn into “he sighed” and “she nodded” so many times that he starts to feel like a window fan and she like a bobblehead.  On the melodramatic end, a debate about where to eat dinner can start to feel like an episode of Jerry Springer because “he shrieked” while “she clenched her fists” and they both “ground their teeth.”  If you leave the objective correlatives out entirely, then you have what’s known as “floating” dialogue — we get the words themselves but no idea how they’re being said, and feel completely disconnected from the scene.  If you try to get meaning across by telling us the characters’ thoughts instead, this quickly drifts into purple prose.

Instead, have them wash the dishes while they talk.

To be clear: it doesn’t have to be dishes.  They could be folding laundry or sweeping the floor or cooking a meal or making a bed or changing a lightbulb.  The point is to engage your characters in some meaningless, everyday household task that does not directly relate to the subject of the conversation.

This trick gives you a whole wealth of objective correlatives.  If your character is angry, then the way they scrub a bowl will be very different from how they’ll be scrubbing while happy.  If your character is taking a moment to think, then they might splash suds around for a few seconds.  A character who is not that invested in the conversation will be looking at the sink not paying much attention.  A character moderately invested will be looking at the speaker while continuing to scrub a pot.  If the character is suddenly very invested in the conversation, you can convey this by having them set the pot down entirely and give their full attention to the speaker.

A demonstration:

1

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

“What?”  Drizella continued dropping forks into the dishwasher.

2

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

Drizella paused midway through slotting a fork into the dishwasher.  “What?”

3

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

Drizella laughed, not looking up from where she was arranging forks in the dishwasher.  “What?”

4

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

The forks slipped out of Drizella’s hand and clattered onto the floor of the dishwasher.  “What?”

5

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

“What?”  Drizella shoved several forks into the dishwasher with unnecessary force, not seeming to notice when several bounced back out of the silverware rack.

See how cheaply and easily we can get across Drizella’s five different emotions about Anastasia leaving, all by telling the reader how she’s doing the dishes?  And all the while no heads were nodded, no teeth were clenched.

The reason I recommend having it be one of these boring domestic chores instead of, say, scaling a building or picking a lock, is that chores add a sense of realism and are low-stakes enough not to be distracting.  If you add a concurrent task that’s high-stakes, then potentially your readers are going to be so focused on the question of whether your characters will pick the lock in time that they don’t catch the dialogue.  But no one’s going to be on the edge of their seat wondering whether Drizella’s going to have enough clean forks for tomorrow.

And chores are a cheap-n-easy way to add a lot of realism to your story.  So much of the appeal of contemporary superhero stories comes from Spider-Man having to wash his costume in a Queens laundromat or Green Arrow cheating at darts, because those details are fun and interesting and make a story feel “real.”  Actually ask the question of what dishes or clothing or furniture your character owns and how often that stuff gets washed.  That’s how you avoid reality-breaking continuity errors like stating in Chapter 3 that all of your character’s worldly possessions fit in a single backpack and in Chapter 7 having your character find a pair of pants he forgot he owns.  You don’t have to tell the reader what dishes your character owns (please don’t; it’s already bad enough when Tolkien does it) but you should ideally know for yourself.

Anyway: objective correlatives are your friends.  They get emotion across, but for low-energy scenes can become repetitive and for high-energy scenes can become melodramatic.  The solution is to give your characters something relatively mundane to do while the conversation is going on, and domestic chores are not a bad starting place.

[stinkysam]

Eddie Brock - Spider on thin fuckin’ ice. 

Warning : talking about shitting and puking, facing death. No Way Home reference at the end. 

Genre : Crack (?)

Synopsis : "venom & eddie meeting a spidey-person reader mayb 😳👉👈" - Anon

Reader : male (he/him)

A/N : bold is Venom talking. 

Even if today things have changed between the three of you, you still make sure you have chocolate for Venom because the day you met, you became his enemy exactly 2 seconds after existing near one another.

Eddie was about to grab the last box of chocolate on the shelf of Mrs Chen's store when it suddenly flew away. While the man took a moment to understand how the box jumped out of his hands and if he really wanted to care about it, Venom was already looking for the culprit.

Holding the box, you waved it at Eddie to taunt him only for a big slime with eyes and large teeth appear out of his chest screaming "I'm going to eat you !"

Out of surprise you webbed his mouth and some more items to take with you as you darted away and flew out, ignoring the woman that stormed after you to get you to pay for what you took. Venom wanted to go after you but it was too late as he took too long to get the webs off of his face. He’s not sure what you did, but he definitely doesn’t enjoy being spat on.

Next time he sees you, it’s on sight.

Originally here just for the chocolate, Eddie bought a few things as if to pay for what you stole before heading to another store to get chocolate and hopefully calm Venom. Standing on the rooftops you followed them, wanting to understand what the hell was that. You did this for a few days and it appeared to be tricky. 

The man, Eddie ?, grew more tense and annoyed as days passed, feeling observed but never seeing by who. It seemed to be the same for the dark thing, Venom ? Feeling bolder and a little bit bored you decided to get a closer look. If you could just understand what Venom was… Could he really be an alien ?

It was late and there wasn't many people outside anymore due to the cold weather but you still sneaked toward them, quietly and swiftly climbing the walls not caring about the random people inside that saw you crawl on their windows, leaving for only proof of your passage a very light handprint on some cleaned glasses.

But you didn't think things through.

When you saw Venom form himself, you shot webs at him not realizing he had sensed you already and destroyed your spiderwebs with what looked like tendrils before enveloping Eddie til only Venom was left. And he was so much bigger than what you thought he would be. Understanding your mistake, you decided it was time to flee, but alas it was a little too late as the large alien had grabbed you by the ankles when you tried to swing in the air, effortlessly holding you up. Loudly cursing, you started shooting more webs at his face when you noticed he was raising you above his head, dangerously bringing you closer to his sharp teeth.

No agility was enough to break free of his firm grip, one hand was enough for him to trap you as  the other swiped away the useless cobwebs. He was talking but you couldn’t listen. You had to get out. Why the fuck did you follow them ? Curiosity killed the cat and you’re so very far from having 9 lives. FUCK.

Out of ideas you place your hands on his shoulders and try to stop him from bringing you closer, using all the strength you could muster in your arms. But by the fucking Gods, if you weren’t too busy not dying, you’re sure you would’ve shat yourself.

He’s opening his mouth. He’s opening his mouth. Jesus fuck, he’s opening his mouth and you’re very too close. He’s opening his mouth and you can feel his hungry breath hit your face. Oh god that tongue is way too large, it's like some huge snake, what the fuck. He’s gonna eat your head. He’s gonna eat your head. Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-

His mouth opened more and more and you actually almost threw up when you saw a head down his throat until you realized it was Eddie. You stopped squirming a little bit when you realized Venom wasn't pulling you closer anymore and that the man was apparently talking. As your heart calmed down and your ears stopped buzzing, you understood he was arguing with Venom, refusing to let him eat you.

As much as you appreciated that Eddie was against the idea, you would’ve loved it better if you weren’t already halfway in his mouth. You clear your throat rapidly to try to get their attention.

“If I give you back the chocolate box, will you not eat me” you managed to say, surprising yourself. You thought your voice would’ve been way shakier. “If you want I can- I can even get you more”. And for a second you thought you were done for until you heard him growl a deep “Fine”, completely letting go of your ankles to let you fall onto the ground.

Laying on the ground catching your breath back, you thanked them as you saw that Venom was gone and only Eddie was there. He seemed to hesitate a little bit before finally asking “Are you- like, the- the spider guy ? From New York ?”

You stared at him in confusion as he continued. "What was it... Spiderman ? Are you that guy ?"

"Eddie."

"Who ?"

"It's not him, Eddie. Give him our number so we can tell him when we need chocolate."

[dyns33]

The Moms

So I’m posting it but this is awful 

           "Sensei."

           "Kid, for the last time, just because Red talks about the old bastard saying 'sensei' doesn't mean you have to call me that. I'm giving you advice and some techniques so you won't get hurt, but the others are helping too."

           "Okay. But, Sensei, are Daredevil and the Punisher together ?"

Y/N looked at Peter for a long time. With their mask on, the spider couldn't see their expression, but he started to sulk when Y/N burst out laughing, clutching their bellies at how funny they thought it was.

Red and Frank. Together.

Nah.

Impossible.

Not that Y/N would find it wrong. The two idiots who sometimes helped them could use some relaxation, and someone to rely on.

But they weren't necessarily right for each other.

Frank was a criminal. But, like, a real criminal, who had killed a lot of people. Not nice people of course, but the code of honour of the vigilantes and heroes of the city specifies that one should not kill. Y/N never killed. Neither did Peter.

Poor Frank however had extenuating circumstances with his past. Sometimes it was hard to think straight when you wanted revenge and suffered post traumatic stress from the war. But he was kind to animals, especially dogs. And with kids. He was nice to Peter.

For that, Y/N had decided to give him a chance, they didn't try to stop him, without helping him either, and sometimes simply telling him that he could be nicer with the criminals.

Red was... Red.

It was hard to describe Red.

He was a tall guy with a ridiculous suit who was growling a lot.

Not a bad fellow, but a bit boring.

He wasn't talkative, or only when he wanted to give big moral lessons. Especially to Frank. But he had done it to everyone, at least once.

No, Spider Man, you're too young to fight, go home. No Deadpool, you're a mad killer, you're not welcome in Hell's Kitchen, go rot in hell. No Y/N I don't team up, I work better alone, go bother someone else.

Well, that hadn't really worked out, since Red was willing to teach Peter how to control his heightened senses, Wade was always hanging around, and Frank and Y/N sometimes worked with him.

But Daredevil often sighed when they were around. Little asshole. But not the worst.

When Red and Frank were on the same roof, it was always the same. Either they pretended to ignore each other, or they insulted each other. Like two teenage girls with a crush but refusing to admit it and not knowing how to flirt properly.

Maybe the young spider was right, there was something.

           "Is that why you call them 'Mom' ?" Y/N asked, trying to stop laughing, to not upset Peter too much.

           "No. A bit ? They treat me like a baby, but I know Mister Punisher finds it amusing. Mostly because it annoys Mister Daredevil. You're a 'Mom' sometimes too, Sensei."

           "Watch out, kid, or your next workout is going to hurt a lot."

           "Okay Mom."

           "Run."

It was Peter's turn to snicker as Y/N tried to catch up to him across town. Even though they were fast, it wasn't possible to catch Spiderman.

The next morning, Y/N groaned as they got out of bed, all their muscles aching, but they had to go to work.

Their little job as a waiter barely paid the rent, but with their activities at night, they hadn't had time to find anything better yet. One day, later.

It wasn't so bad anyway. It was simple, and they met nice people.

Like Karen, Foggy and Matt. The heroic neighbourhood lawyers, who never refused to help anyone. Y/N liked them, they were their favourite customers. And according to Foggy, they were their favourite waiter. At least, Matt's favourite.

           "Matty here is very picky, and he says your coffee is the best in town. I don't really feel any difference from the other coffees, but it's good."

           "Thank you Matty." Y/N purred.

           "Matt, please." Matt begged as he swung his cane at his friend. "And it's true, even if your palate isn't developed enough to scent it, the coffee here is much better than anywhere else, and Y/N brews it the best of all the waiters."

Matty kept blushing and smiling nervously as he was talking. It was cute. He too needed to relax. Y/N wouldn't mind giving him a hand.

Sometimes, although he obviously couldn't see, the lawyer seemed to follow them around the cafe, watching him intently. Weird. But exciting.

Men, women, it didn't really matter for Y/N, as long as they were attractive, interesting and nice.

Hard to know if Red and Frank thought the same thing.

From what Y/N understood, Frank only had his wife, who had been tragically murdered. They had heard of another girl, for whom the little Punisher had felt things, but it was not certain.

And Red. Y/N knew nothing at all about Red's love life. Again, there had been rumours. A certain Elektra, who was dead now. But nothing else.

Yeah, both really needed to get laid. Not necessarily with each other, if they didn't like guys, but at least with someone. Y/N were curious, they wanted to know.

           "What do you think of Frank ?"

           "About ? Why ? Did he do something ?"

           "Relax, Red. No, he's been very good. I mean, how do you find him ? Physically ?"

           "...Hell I know. In good shape ?"

           "Not your type then ?"

           "... What ?!"

Well, Daredevil was already starting to growl and they hadn't even talked about the delicate subject yet. But Red wasn't stupid, he probably guessed where this discussion was going. Putting himself in a defensive position, ready to flee, Red got angry on his own, while Y/N admired his cheeks turning as red as his costume. He was embarrassed. Cute.

They asked the same question to Frank who almost choked before asking them if they had lost their fucking minds.

           "No, Red, he... He's too... He's an altar boy !"

           "A what ?"

           "He's too pure. Stupid. Kind. Idiot. Desperate !"

It wasn't really a no. Those were the adjectives a teenage girl in love would use to talk about her crush anyway. They could work with that.

The following weeks, as soon as they were all reunited, with the help of Peter, Y/N launched small remarks, to try to bring closer the two imbeciles. It worked, a little.

Red was obviously still uncomfortable, but he wasn't running away. After all, he was supposed to be the man without fear.

Frank was embarrassed too, but he was laughing and making fun of the Devil.

It was fun to watch them dancing around each other.

It would have been even cooler to be able to participate, but Y/N knew it was a bad idea. When he didn't need backup, or wasn't there to lend a hand, Red seemed to avoid them.

Frank had never seemed interested.

During daytime, at work, Y/N was having a good time with Matt. Anyway, chatting with Matt as they served him his favourite coffee. He was awesome, this Matt.

           "Today, dear Y/N, we're going to need lots and lots of coffee !" Foggy said as he sat down at the counter.

           "Oh ? Trouble ?"

           "Tough business. Matt is nervous."

           "I'm not nervous."

           "He's very nervous. He hasn't slept in two days, although you can't see it with his glasses. It's worse than during the Castle case, you really need to rest, buddy."

           "Castle ? Frank Castle ?"

As Foggy replied that yes, he meant the Punisher, whom they had defended during his trial, Matt's expression changed. He was more serious. Concentrated. His eyes fixed on Y/N, at least on their chest, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Weird. Red was doing that too, often.

           "Do you know Castle ?" the lawyer asked, in a voice that seemed to imply that he already knew the answer.

           "A bit. We see each other sometimes. He's not that bad."

           "Hmm. He's dangerous, Y/N. Be careful."

This voice. That little growl. That mouth, that face. This moral lesson.

Shit. Red. Matt was Red. Shit.

That was why all the stupid vision jokes Frank made when they were on a mission. Y/N had never understood them. It was because Red was fucking blind !

Even though they didn't know much about Daredevil, Y/N knew he could hear hearts. He must have guessed, or at least suspected, who they were. And now Matt knew that they knew.

Awk-ward.

           "I will think about it." they decided to respond by giving them their coffee before going to the kitchen, as far as possible.

They avoided the patrols the following nights. But Y/N knew they weren't going to be able to avoid the Devil for long. He had their name anyway, he could easily find out where they lived. Which he did.

Coming with Frank.

Because against all odds, Red had spoken to Frank. Great. And what about respect for the secret identity ?

           "We need to talk."

           "Nah Red. That's cool. I didn't mean to find out, and I'm not going to tell anyone, not even Peter. Well, Frankie already knows, but we won't talk about it either, I understand."

           "I meant, about what you've been doing for a while."

           "What ?"

           "Don't pretend you don't know." sighed the Punisher.

Ah. That.

Well, at least they had noticed. Not that Y/N had tried to be discreet, otherwise it would have been useless.

           "So I take it you don't like each other. Anyway, not more than friends, with no benefit. Well, maybe not friends. Partners in crime ?"

           "That's not it." Red said, looking apologetic. "It's just not... possible. I can't condone his methods, and you, you... It would be too risky."

           "What our Altar boy means is that we've already thought about it. It's tempting. But he is a pious martyr who loves to suffer by wanting to avoid making others suffer. Which is fucking pissing me off, because he's too naive and too nice, a hopeless case. You, you're in the middle, a bit of both. He doesn't want to hurt you, I don't want to rot you. What we have now, It's working, it's fine, so stop."

           "...Stop ? Even though you... and I... Wait, you thought about that ?! You thought about that, and with me ?"

Hell, Peter was not wrong with the "moms" thing, they were his fucking parents, all three of them. Did the kid do it on purpose ? He was clever, the little spider monkey. He must have noticed too, that Red and Frank didn't really hate each other, and he must have seen how they were with Y/N.

After all, Peter was a teenager, he knew the behaviours of stupid teenagers pretty well. He was lonely too, even though he had his aunt, Ned, and his MJ.

Matt wasn't completely alone, but his friends certainly couldn't understand him. Not as good as Frank and Y/N, who were on their own.

They could be alone, or a little less alone, together.

Except that they didn't want to, because they were afraid of ruining everything. And they were stupid.

           "But I want us to fuck,  God damn it !"

           "Language !" growled Red.

           "What ? Everyone knows you chose this costume on purpose because it shows off your ass ! And Frank tears up his t-shirt all the time, that's an obvious signal ! We already do everything else together !"

           "Touché, pup. But stop, really, you're going to freak out Red. The poor guy is going to have to go to confession afterwards. The last time, he..."

           "Frank !" Matt barked.

           "Pup ?" Y/N wondered.

Red growled again. He was almost totally red now, and he was shaking. Frank didn't answer, sighing as he scratched his neck, before smiling and snickering, which made Red growl even more.

With his ninja speed and natural grace, he suddenly lunged at the Punisher, punching him in the face to silence him, before smack his lips to his.

Just as quickly, he did the same with Y/N, without giving them time to react, then he jumped out the window, cursing.

Frank started laughing again, patting Y/N on the shoulder, kissing them on the cheek and following the Devil.

           "We'll fuck another time. Maybe. If he stops being silly and you promise to not do any bullshit."

           "You know me."

           "Yeah pup, that's the thing."

On the next patrol, Red was very quiet and distant, Frank kept smiling, Y/N tried to pretend everything was perfectly normal, and Peter, smart little shit that he was, acted as if knew exactly what had happened, calling them "Mom 1, 2 and 3" despite their threats and reprimands.