#he shows up to Brad’s class and Brad is like “’what the hell are you wearing kid’

[into-the-feniverse]

On his way to TA

Original post

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/16/2023: NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4 - THE DREAM MASTER

One of the best movie posters ever, let's face it.

What does your slasher movie hierarchy look like? Which guy is your favorite, and is that guy's franchise your favorite over all, or is there a different one that you think is more consistently enjoyable? I have a hard time answering this question for myself. Some comparisons are too apples v. oranges; I mean, I think it's fair to pit Jason Voorhees against Michael Myers, but Leatherface has a really different vibe even though he's still technically a pretty basic slasher, and I cannot get what I get from HELLRAISER in almost any other movie or series. The CHILD'S PLAY franchise may have started out on more standard ground despite its oddball "voodoo doll" premise, but it has since transformed itself into a committedly queer campfest, and no one else in the slasher game is really doing the same thing in the same way. NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET is also in a class by itself on many levels, including but not limited to the originality of its premise, its allowance for wild fantasy sequences, and the platform it provides for a wonderful character actor to strut his stuff. I mean not to slight the great Brad Dourif, but every ELM STREET installment is basically the Robert Englund show, and we like it that way. NOES is probably my favorite over-all franchise, in part because I think it probably has the highest proportion of quality movies. Even a bad ELM STREET movie is kind of good because of its star, and its open field for filmmakers to be as imaginative as they want to be. It's like that thing people (erroneously) say about how sex is like pizza: Even when it's bad, it's still pretty good.

NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4 was one of my first R-rated movies. I think I saw it when I was about 9, at the home of the first of of my many Bad Female Friends. Michelle was extremely controlling and a compulsive liar, and my weak ass has always been catnip to people like that. She lived with her mom who, despite her unpredictable temper, basically ran a house with no rules; most of the time I was there she was locked in her bedroom with her boyfriend, loudly watching game shows. Once in a while one of them would emerge in a bathing suit to get chips and dip and soda out of the fridge, and that's all I usually saw of them. The mom was also a den mother for the Brownies, which I was forced to participate in because my parents knew that otherwise I would just stay in my room for the rest of my life. I got out of it because Michelle's mom was always dropping her off at our house whenever she felt like getting rid of her kid, and the one time my parents wanted her to babysit me she said no arbitrarily, and they got in a huge grownup fight, and that was that. Uh anyway, where the hell was I going with this? Oh yeah, Michelle got to watch anything she wanted, which was Not Cool with my hippie media-phobic parents. I got in a huge amount of trouble for "letting" Michelle show me SLEEPAWAY CAMP 2--which, to be fair, is inappropriate for audiences of all ages (and is therefore great)--and NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4: THE DREAM MASTER.

I vaguely remember my mom just being really upset on the phone with Michelle's mom, and trying to figure out how to instill in me that I should resist at all costs the contaminating effects of horror movies; even if somebody else was putting them in front of me without supervision, it was still my responsibility not to watch them. (My mom personally enjoyed John Waters movies and FLESH FOR FRANKENSTEIN and stuff like that, but she didn't want me to see PSYCHO until I was 18 years old--go figure!) But my dad's religion is Jungian psychoanalysis so he was intrigued by the dream-based plot, and he decided to actually watch the movie himself and come to his own conclusion about whether I might have been harmed by it. He didn't wind up liking it, but he did understand what made it interesting, and knowing that had a healing effect on me.

For my part, I liked everything about NOES4, not the least of which was that it's the ultimate '80s movie. I mean this thing was really programmed to go straight into the brain someone who was 7 in 1988 and just completely take over. The absolutely sick soundtrack, the very of-the-moment layered and over-accessorized fashions, the surreal neon-lit dream sequences, and...really just everything. Watching the movie today, it still presents as a perfect (albeit idealized) time capsule, and Renny Harlin was the perfect guy to create it. Harlin was a major league ham who knew no limits, and with a premise that is literally limitless--the whole idea is dreams made real--he did exactly what you'd want him to do, reputedly subbing in his own zany nightmare concepts when he felt the script didn't go far enough. I recently rewatched his acrophobic thriller CLIFFHANGER and read that the first stunt you see in the movie was only attempted once, and the stunt person received one million dollars to do it...which is easy to believe when you see it. That's the kind of filmmaker Renny Harlin is, and I think it shows even in an ELM STREET movie where everything is as artificial as possible.

Another way in which THE DREAM MASTER epitomizes its moment is that it has this perfectly motley ensemble. I feel like we don't have this anymore; a lot of films are very careful now to have a mix of ethnicities and sexual orientations in the cast, and yet in most cases this has not contributed to a feeling of having a lot of different kinds of people represented. I miss seeing movies where the friend group includes, like, a punk and a jock and a nerd and a goth and a normie and a dreamy loser. I miss movies where these two people can be best friends:

And at this point, you might have asked yourself why I didn't include SCREAM in my imaginary slasher franchise hierarchy. The answer is...I don't care about it. That first movie is fun and the series has its moments, but I'm not sure that it has much to offer once you get past the novelty of its self-awareness. That is, it doesn't have much to offer unless your main thing is seeing a bunch of cute friends hanging out together. Sure some of them are slightly nerdier or slightly more popular, but there's not a bunch of variance there; the main point seems to just be "attractive young people". And frankly, I just don't find that very interesting, and it's not that interesting to have a movie that just lists rules and then follows the rules, and it's not that interesting to have whodunnits where the main question is "which one of my cute friends is secretly mean". So there. I probably shouldn't write this down on the internet, but considering that we're probably all on some kind of list these days, I'll just say it: I'll take the undead soul-eating child molester over the homogeneous gang of fuckable friends any day of the week.

[thestarsarecool]

@fujoshi-simone-weil tagged me in a "things to get to know me" game! Fun, thank you! You have the best url on tumblr. Also, someone else tagged me in this game, like, a month ago and I kept meaning to do it (it was on my to-do list and everything!) but I forgot and now it has disappeared from my notifications. Also, I don't 100% remember who it was. But still, I wholeheartedly apologize to that person for neglecting their tag. I don't love you any less. Anyway, on with the show!

Last song I listened to: Answer Me from The Band's Visit. You can take the theater kid out of the theater but you can't take the theater out of the kid. Or maybe you can. I don't know. I am taking a class on songwriting for musical theater right now so I am listening to more musical theater than I have in a while, though not as much as I did in like 2019.

Favorite color: Purple!

Currently watching: Nothing really? I'm not much of a TV or movie person. I just finished watching the Fionna and Cake TV show which was surprisingly good. My siblings and I watched all of Adventure Time together a while back (we like to rewatch cartoons together), so we all facetimed to watch the finale, which was really nice. I'd missed them :)

Last movie I watched: Hmm. I don't remember. Let's think...nope, still don't remember. Sorry film nerds of tumblr.com. I wish I was as cool as you.

Currently reading: Psychoanalysis: The Impossible Profession by Janet Malcolm! It's a really fascinating look into the underlying contradictions of psychoanalysis and also a great overview of the history, but it's all done through an actually engaging character study! I think it was originally a lengthy piece in The New Yorker, published around 1980. Also, I just started The Tale of Two Cities, which is very fun because the only Dickens I have ever read before is Oliver Twist!

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I want to say savory, but the answer is actually sweet. I put wayyyyyy too much sugar in my tea for me to be picking anything but sweet.

Last thing I googled: The last thing I googled was "Ray Donovan Music" and I will explain why because, yes, I know that that doesn't make any sense. So, I am finishing up work on this song I am writing and whenever I get to that "almost done" stage, I post to r/Songwriting to get feedback because it's fun and occasionally helpful. And someone in the comments said that my song sounds like if "the little girl from Moneyball and Ray Donovan had a brainchild with Regina Spector [sic]." Which, like, ok. Let's unpack that. The comparison to Regina Spektor is very kind. I have gotten that a few times, though I think Reddit just doesn't know any other women who write songs on the piano. The little girl from Moneyball is such a funny comparison to me. Like, she's not a songwriter? She's just Brad Pitt's fictional child. But like, sure, I get what they mean. I sing kind of light and talky sometimes which makes it sound childlike, I guess, like a Moe Tucker sort of thing. But Ray Donovan??? I literally do not know what this commenter is talking about. All I can find for who Ray Donovan is the guy from the TV show. Like, does TV criminal Ray Donovan write songs or something? Is my song particularly evocative of the Ray Donovan soundtrack? Did this commenter mash together Ray Davies and Donovan's names? I asked him who he is talking about, but received no reply. Someone save me from this hell. Who is Ray Donovan and why did he birth my song?

Current Obsession: Still The Beatles, I guess, though it's not nearly as debilitating as it was a year ago. Which is quite nice, actually! I can actually be productive now.

Current Thing I'm Working On: Well, I've just about finished up the aforementioned song! All it needs is a title. Also, I'm writing a paper on The Epic of Gilgamesh, which is fun. The guy who wrote my translation is a professor at my uni so I may go to his office hours to ask him about it!

Ok, I tag @torchlitinthedesert, @idontwanttospoiltheparty, @veidelon, @theallenklein, and @mydaroga. I know this one already made the rounds though (I think) so no need to do it if you already did it. Or, really, no need to do it at all.

Cheers, everyone!

[dodger-chan]

Happy Halloween! Please enjoy this silly, unedited Stranger Things mini-fic as a treat.

When Wheeler the Elder tore her shirt to make a bandage Buckley let out a little giggle. Then another. It was very inappropriate, and Eddie wished she’d share with the rest of the class, because he needed something to laugh at right now.

“Sorry, I swear I’m not usually a nervous laugher, it’s just,” she giggled again and gestured at Wheeler’s attempted wound care. “He’s got more hurt than you’ve got shirt.”

Eddie snorted. A Rocky Horror reference in the middle of hell. Thank fuck for Robin Buckley and her (time)warped mind. He wondered where she had seen the movie. “Please don’t make me laugh when I’m bleeding, Robbie.” Harrington wheezed and winced. Nancy seemed to be the only one of them at a loss.

“What are you talking about?” She glared at Harrington, then Buckley, as though a stern look would provide her the context she lacks.

“It’s from a movie,” Eddie explained. “Well, kind of. Tearing a skirt to make a bandage is from the movie. What Buckley said is from the audience participation part of the film.”

“Fellow Rocky Horror nerd, huh?” Buckley asked, tentatively. It was, Eddie supposed, kind of an incriminating admission. One of those things that wasn’t exclusively queer - Harrington had gotten Buckley’s reference, after all - but it was indicative.

“Oh, absolutely. One of my favorites. I even dressed up for the anniversary showing they did in Indy last year.”

“Neat. We went to one in Chicago. We didn’t dress up, though.” Buckley grinned. “A lot of people thought Steve was going as Brad.”

“He does sort of naturally radiate ‘asshole,’ doesn’t he?” Personally, Eddie would rather picture Harrington in the tiny gold shorts of Rocky. 

“He does.” Buckley agreed.

“Fuck you both.” Harrington grumbled as Wheeler tied off the makeshift bandage.

“You know you love us, Steve.” Buckley gave him her hand and helped leverage Harrington back to a standing position. “So who did you dress up as? Was it Eddie?”

“Frank.” Harrington guessed. He looked Eddie up and down like he was picturing the corset and fishnets. Like he was appreciating the corset and fishnets. 

“It’s not easy having a good time. Even smiling makes my face ache.” Eddie quoted, and bit his knuckle suggestively. Buckley cackled and Harrington, well, Harrington was about to make Eddie reassess his belief in the existence of straight Rocky Horror fans.

“I still don't know what you're talking about.” Wheeler looked annoyed at being left out.

“It’s kind of my favorite movie.”

“Just more Rocky Horror stuff. It’s a bit hard to explain.” Robin took Nancy’s arm and started leading her down through the dark trees. “We can watch the movie when we get back. Steve will let me borrow his copy.”

“Steve has his own copy?” Eddie asked. 

“Susan Sarandon running around in her underwear?” Harrington shrugged.

“That, and Tim Curry’s, um, everything.”

“His everything, huh?”

“You two better catch up or Nance and I will leave you here.” Buckley called back to them. Eddie rolled his eyes. 

“Com-ing,” he sing-songed. Not a terrible imitation.

Under his breath Steve added, “So’s Brad.”

[the-firebird69]

2016 NPC Eastern USA Novice Bodybuilding Champion Hunter Dominy

This is not true novice because it's not his first time but it's novice but it is not a novice first competition or second this is after many rounds of competitions and it is the whole E there is a middle division in West and South it's pretty huge in the east you have to be in good shape and there are a couple more classes above its intermediate and pro intermediate you would be a little bigger but really a novice is the second rung up true novice you can go to multiple times and learn the ropes multiple contests you still have to pay a small entrance fee and there's no professional prize you're just there trying to get into the novice level what we find them doing is going from the bottom up over and over and they're saying they're looking for people but it's **** they're just satisfying their need to get bigger and ego and all sorts of other stuff it's rather gross because they hog like the whole stupid thing and there's only other regions in it and they're like shunned for even showing up and these guys are got like real stupid and they're shouting at people and they don't do anything about it but I'll tell you what these people are a bunch of Bums and they're harassing people like their bums and our son is calling them bums and doesn't talk to them anymore because they're disgusting. Now let's it's repulsive and you're telling people you're doing it are you really mad at us how can you be and it's so stupid it's such cowards and we're going to burn so many of you and are looking forward to it. You have a bunch of talking little minis we'd be happy to get of you. and your act is shit and we see. so your aarrogant and cant stop the macs who come up. annd y ou will fasce them in combat first yup. and they will roast most of you yup

This contest was not Brad's first and it won't be his last and he won the E and he went on and I think he won the S and he was beaten by someone in the West in the middle and they kept on going up the rungs and at this particular year he didn't do too well but he was in the Pro League and he was like number 20 which is which is pretty good and you have to look really really awesome and powerful and you have to have real muscle and they check you by mass to find out if you're doing steroids they weigh you in the water and it is a test and it is effective. They also use density meters and calipers and they're finding that these guys do steroids and then they go off it and they're really getting tired of it nobody else can get in there and they're getting sick and they're stupid and the story's making them dumber and they're really going hog wild on it now and we don't want them in there but you know it's not our deal and really nobody can do it with these idiots. My son won't be big until 4 months from now but he'll be this big this is his class more or less he can get this big and he can compete in novice he'll be taller than this guy and his arms a bit bigger his arms are about 19 inch which is pretty big it's only two inches more around than our sons and as you look at it from the side it's only about 1/2 inch wider and if you're standing next to our son in your Brad you can tell he doesn't look that big and these guys are noticing he's Big Fella and it's deceptive and Ken too same table ken is really fat so you can't tell what he's got going on if any of the period so I guess our son is flipping Ken off and wants him on the E bike and he's trying to snap his fingers and clap his hands and snap his toes and have Hera get him going on the E bike and she's saying hell no.... And it's going on a little bit seriously he needs to get on that ebike. So he is about 5 foot 7 and he weighs I think he weighed in at 230 and he is not very big 19 inches is good size for his body and for a son it's OK and a son is at seventeen but when our son will be down in four months from now and the poison in his body would be at a minimal around 6 months to two months and it would be working its way out quite steadily at that time it would be flowing out and the lipoma too will be being destroyed and his biceps would be about 20 inches but whe would be about 5 foot 11 an inch and a half taller than he is now which is almost six foot which is big but not really huge. and at that size would look similar to brads look but a bit smaller...and true too however. If he begins competing he'll notice that they're smaller than him and he'll try and stand next to them when he's flexing and such and they will not win. They'll be about 5 inches shorter and their arms will look small and he'll be probably nineteen and a half inches roughly really quickly and maybe 20 inches a month later on the biceps and those are big arms OK and standing next to someone like Brad with 19 inches and when he flexes Brad would look small because of the mass of the muscle it's not necessarily the fact that it's big around he would look small because when forming the muscle Brad would have this little ball that shoots up and this tricep that .... that shoots up and this tricep that shoots down and our son would have an arm that is thick with a large ball and a tricep that's fully developed and he would look huge by comparison his muscle mass at the bicep and tricep would be twice that of brand at this size at only 6 foot so please have a heart OK you're not big people but it would motivate you to try and Brad can look like that it's not that hard and you can use spice and it's actually safer than going after all your diseased people. So that's what he would be doing as an novice.  And we know our sunny wants to get a feel for it see if he wants to even do it so he'd be bumming around as a true novice and he'd probably be doing it like a job and saying This is my approach and we think he does a few contests as a true novice and I think you have to place and he does a few at 50 and over he said 50 and over that kind of just old people in their skin and bone and it's gross and they're not bodybuilders and he wins without trying but it would put him in the novice class yes but for 50 and above no. So he would go into that and he'd be doing pretty good his injury would have healed mostly and if he did he would be pretty big and 6 foot is pretty big and we think maybe 5 foot 11 but still his arms would be about 19 and 1/2 inches and his arms are exploding already it would be a joy to watch and the others they come in there about 5 foot eight or 5 foot 8 and a half and they really don't get much bigger in this competition as a novice. And he moved into the intermediate where he would be about 6 foot 3 and his arms would be about 22 inches and then later on a few months later twenty three and he would be and then later on a few months later 23 and he would be gigantic compared to them most of them are at by then they'll probably be 5 foot 9 and the difference is still shocking and it's like Hulk Hogan versus a regular sized dressler he looks very big. That won't be for quite some time probably over a year. But he'll be big at that size and as an intermediate he will be unstoppable and he should win so we think he wins some money and doesn't want to get carried away with it and then months later he gets bigger probably 24 or 25 inch arms goes back into intermediate and he'd win so professional bodybuilders these days their arms are 25 or 26 inches by the time he gets in there his arms will be 27 inches but he'll be big and he won't lose they might do it we might be ready but we'll see and really it doesn't matter for ready I guess it's not a huge deal it will make us ready

Thor Freya We take the two for looking into this and they're trying to see what it's like and Tommy F really put some effort in a couple of others did and the fruit loops did a little bit but boy it's condescension and gross it's damned annoying. Tommy F wants to be the coach for obvious reasons kidnapping but it was a good job and he's still going to look into it and we know it'd be a good thing to do.

They're going to be very very big and we did approve you to do it and start we do see it it won't start for months because right now you're still at probably 4 years the desert sands are coming and you think they're here a little and they are they'll be here tonight and it's from regular combat but the soil and sand is radioactive. And tonight And tonight around 8:00 PM it's gonna be one rad for about 20 minutes it's not that strong but we do wish you the best and you know we'll be there it says good that's a pick out the right swim trunks. And here you have to

Nuada Arrianna

Olympus

[farfromharry]

The nurse’s office | Peter Parker fic

Summary: Sometimes Peter forgets about his super strength. He simply wanted to put Brad Davis in his place when he tried to make a mockery of him, and now he was sitting in the nurses office with a very pretty, very concussed girl; oh and it was all his fault.

Word count - 2461

Warnings - injury, probably language

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Peter Parker was not the kind of guy that played sports. Before the spider bite the thought of any kind of physical exercise repulsed him, stole his breath just thinking about it. As a nerd he didn’t have the kind of endurance for that kind of thing.

Even now, with super abilities, he still didn’t really enjoy the idea. He thought people would be confused how such a skinny, nerdy kid suddenly became an all-star sport’s player. So he simply didn’t try— Plus he was rather content sticking to lego builds and science books.

But one thing he couldn’t stand was people challenging him to try and show off. ‘People’ being none other than Brad Davis.

He thought he could make fun of Peter and try to impress some random group of girls all in one. Challenging the boy to try and beat him in a quick game of hoops as he called it. In any other circumstance he would’ve declined, let him take the win and boast all he wanted, because truly Peter didn’t have the patience to amuse a jock like him when all Brad wanted was to humiliate the poor boy. Which is why he got so irritated so easily. He just wanted to prove him wrong and then go back to his conversation with Ned, but the universe is never on little old Peter Parker’s side.

You just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d been chatting with a friend on the sidelines, paying zero attention to the essential testosterone war going on behind you. Peter had nothing against you, hell he didn’t actually know you. He was aware you were in a few of his classes but you were usually quiet and didn’t talk to many people if you didn’t have to. But from what he’d gathered you were sweet, kind to everyone you did talk to, and completely innocent to Brad Davis’ antics.

Which is why you weren’t paying attention when the two boys started throwing the basketball around. The taller of the two was doing wonders to hide his surprise that Peter could even make a basket from the distance he was standing, but there was no way he was going to be out performed in front of a group of hot girls by nerdy Peter Parker.

Realistically he shouldn’t have gotten so aggressive, and Peter shouldn’t have retaliated in the same way, not when he knew how dangerous his super strength could be. He could lift a bus with his bare hands, nevermind the damage he could do with a simple rubber ball if he threw it hard enough.

Unfortunately for you, that’s what he did. Though it was aimed at his opponent rather than you, the man actually saw it coming. Meaning you were the unsuspecting victim of Peter’s careless plot for revenge.

“Look out!” he yelled, watching as the ball flew through the air in the direction of the wrong person, too fast for even him to get to without exposing himself as the masked web slinger hero.

He winced when he saw the rubber collide right with your head, hearing the gasp of shock you let out from the sudden pain spreading through you.

“Shit,” you cursed, hand coming up to clutch your forehead once the ball had bounced away from you. All you could feel was the pain from the hit, barely even able to hear the commotion it’d caused around you.

You barely recognised your friends in the growing crowd of people when you looked up, the blinding lights of the gym causing you to hiss in pain. Peter was the person that blocked out the direct light with his body, standing in front of you so he could do his best to check on your current state.

“I am so sorry,” he apologised profusely, panicking as he didn’t quite know how he was meant to help in this situation. This is exactly why Peter never played sports.

Obviously the ever so compassionate jock, Brad seemed to find some humour in the situation, although it wasn’t much appreciated by anyone that was just trying to check if you were okay. “Way to go Parker.”

He tuned him out so he didn’t have to hear him, lightly placing his hands on your arms when he noticed you were swaying in an attempt to steady you.

“Are you okay?” His spidey sense told him you very much weren’t, and he was already feeling awful. The look on your face wasn’t good, a mix of discomfort and confusion that had him worrying a large amount for someone he barely knew.

“My head hurts,” you whined. There was also the addition of a slight sick feeling in your stomach, the hit having knocked off your balance and caused some motion sickness from the way the room spun.

“I know, I know,” he cooed. It was too difficult for you to even think at the moment, so you didn’t question why the boy was being so sympathetic. If this was any other Midtown boy the most you would’ve gotten was an apology and then they would’ve simply scurried away from the scene so they didn’t get into trouble.

He saw the slight change in your features, seeing the way your nose scrunched up and you began to sway. “I don’t feel so good.”

And that was the last thing you said before falling backwards, barely caught by the brunette to stop you hitting your head on the solid floor. Peter cursed quietly under his breath, readjusting where his hands were in order to lift you.

“Let’s get you to the nurse.” There were a few shocked gasps when he hoisted you up into his arms. Most of Midtown knew Peter Parker as the kid who failed to do a pushup in gym one year, and now here he was carrying a whole limp person with such ease.

He brushed off the confused stares though, not wanting to get himself tangled in a web of lies that he’d never get out of, all to protect his real, super secret, reason.

It wasn’t every day you saw one of the school’s biggest nerds carrying a limp body through the halls, hence why Peter got so many strange looks from bystanders that’d just been visiting their lockers or switching between classes. He ignored them of course, dead set on getting you right to the nurse’s office to get you checked over. God, May would be pissed if she found out he’d severely injured you.

»»——⍟——««

The two of you were in the office for quite some time before you regained consciousness. The nurse had called your mother and informed her about what had happened and how you were currently doing, which is the only way Peter knew what damage he’d caused.

But eventually it’d passed the point of too long for the older woman to just sit and wait like the teenage boy, so she’d left you to his nervous company.

So when you woke up Peter was there and ready with an explanation he’d been preparing the whole time you were out. What gave away your consciousness to him was the way your heart rate elevated slightly, the boy sitting forward in his seat to prepare for when you spoke.

You whimpered sadly when the light hit your fluttering eyes, raising your hand to block it out of your sight like a sort of shield. “What’s going on?”

You awkwardly removed the ice pack from your head too, eyes squinting to look at it with a clear expression of confusion that Peter had no problem clearing up for you.

“Hey, hey. You have a mild concussion, you need to keep that on there.” He was so gentle when placing the ice back onto your head that you could’ve sworn you fell in love right then and there.

“A concussion?” you asked rhetorically. You didn’t understand how a simple injury could cause it. You’d seen many sports players be hit with these things and they always walked away fine, why were you any different?

Obviously you didn’t know that the teen in front of you was enhanced, if you did then it’d all probably make sense, but Peter couldn’t risk telling you that. The male saw that you were clearly struggling to put it together, and in an attempt to save his identity, changed subjects.

“Is- um, is the room okay? Do you feel any better?”

“The lights are too bright,” you complained, head beginning to pound concerningly more when you could no longer stop the harsh brightness from getting into your eyes. The brunette was quick to leap up from his seat and press the light switch, but you found that the natural daylight leaking into the room wasn’t much fun either, and that was something he unfortunately couldn’t just switch off.

“I-I can’t do anything about that other light,” he explained. You were disappointed but you understood, humming quietly to confirm it was okay. He saw the way your eyes fluttered shut again, presuming you were trying to hide from any kind of brightness.

There were a few moments of awkward silence, the only sounds being your synced breathing. Peter didn’t know what to say, or even if you wanted to talk. He assumed you were mad at him for what he did, but he wasn’t exactly the best at spotting emotions when they weren’t outright stated to him, especially with a person he knew nearly nothing about.

And you were almost exactly that. Don’t get him wrong, he knew who you were, basic information like your name and who your friends were, but this might’ve been the longest conversation he’s had with you yet, and it all started with him very violently throwing a ball at your head.

“So, it was you that hit me with the basketball?” You asked. Seeing as you’d had your back turned you didn’t see the culprit, so you simply wanted to confirm he was being this nice because it was him. He looked down at his feet, cheeks blushing a soft pink shade as he hummed. “You really know how to make a girl swoon, huh?” you teased. You blinked open your eyes for a second to see both the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinting a brighter pink shade, pulling a giggle out of you.

It took him a little bit to get out of his embarrassed state, but when he did he was more than willing to keep up the playful banter.

“Well I did quite literally have you falling at my feet,” he carried on. Your eyes flickered over to him, seeing the tiny smile that signalled he was holding back a laugh and you couldn’t help but let out your own giggle at his joke.

Over the next hour or so you learnt how truly sweet Peter was. You’d never really gotten the chance to know him past his name, but now you were happy that you did. He was just so incredibly sweet.

“I must say, if anyone was going to give me a concussion, I’m glad it was you.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. You sent him a sweet smile, and maybe your eyes lingered on one another's for a little bit too long.

“And I’m glad I gave it to you.” His words only hit him a few seconds after they’d left his mouth, quickly shaking his head as he tried to furiously explain that wasn’t what he meant. “No- I- I’m not glad I gave you a concussion, I-“

You’d never seen a teenage boy so embarrassed, especially not one of the ones from Midtown who were known for being cocky and overconfident. “You’re cute, Parker.”

That just about killed him.

Neither of you really knew what to say after that. Peter was much too in his head after your compliment to even think of eligible words he could say to you, and you were still in quite a lot of pain so the silence was actually rather welcoming.

Only when the nurse re-entered her office to tell you your mother was here did you actually start talking again.

He was nice enough to help you stand up, making sure you were a hundred percent balanced before he let go. Once again you appreciated his help, hence why you didn’t want this to just be a one time encounter, you’d like to get to know him a little better.

He walked with you through the empty halls of the school building, making small talk and occasionally making the other laugh until you reached the outside of the building.

You turned to him before making your departure. “Do you have any paper?”

He thought about it for a second before reaching into his pocket, pulling out what you assumed was a random, old subway ticket. He watched you pull out a pen and struggle to find someplace, which ended up just being your hand, that you could rest the flimsy paper in order to write on it.

You were done within seconds, putting your pen away and outstretching your hand to him.

“Here.” You handed him the scrap of paper you’d scribbled on with a devious smile, watching the boy intently as he took it from you. He was uncertain at first from your scattered handwriting, probably a side effect of the concussion, but he was quick to work out that you’d just given him your number. An actual girl, had given Peter, her number. That really was a first for him.

“What’s this for?” he asked, trying desperately to hide the dumb grin threatening to make itself known on his face. A girl had never given him her number before, at least not with the intent of using it for something other than the answers to science homework.

“To keep you updated,” you innocently shrugged. His eyes kept flickering down to the new contact displaying your name and back up to you, where you were now making your way to your mother’s car. He had to nearly shout just so you’d be able to hear him from your new distance. “On what exactly?”

“How well I’m healing. See you later, Parker.” You gave him one of them cutesy small waves that made his heart burst, the boy struggling to reciprocate from how flustered he was. Although that hadn’t been an isolated experience in the time he’d spent with you today, he’d pretty much been a stuttering, love-sick puppy the entire time.

You didn’t hear him respond after climbing into your mom’s car, but he still tried anyway with a dumb smile plastered to his face.

“Yeah, see you later.”

peter parker taglist → @call-me-baby-gir1​ @parkerlovebot​​ @sinisterspidey​​​​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @bvttercupbby @spideyspeaches @celestialholland @captainamirica @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @lovableparker @whoeveniskendall @dhtomholland @multixfandomwriter @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @avengers-hamiltrash @aayaissaa @jacksnoodles @edmundspevensea @lovehollandy12 @peterbenjiparker @the-girl-in-the-chair @tom-softie @rqmanoff @hogwartsmarvelmommy @elishi03 @mn-jun @nocturnalms @kayasholland @peter-parkers-gf @wrendermeuseless @ladyluvr @ccosmic-illusion @camelliaflow3r @ellabellabus07

[coco-loco-nut]

The Captain’s Daughter (2)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Reader/OC

Warnings: Angst maybe, sibling fluff, sadness, a lot of sadness

Summary: Maverick adopted Goose and Carole’s daughter, she’s one hell of a pilot, and Bob is smitten

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | alternate ending | part 4

masterlist

______________________

..."Get ready, it's a long story," She sighs, sipping her drink.

        "I'm always ready," Bob smiles, lightening the mood a little.

        "My dad, Nick Bradshaw -callsign Goose- was Maverick's RIO which is now WSO. They flew in the same class as Admiral Kazansky. In an exercise, Uncle Tom -Iceman- and Mav, were competing, trying to get the missile lock on a MiG. Uncle Tom was trying to best Mav but when he couldn't get the shot, he pulled away. Mav flew into Tom's jet wash which forced him and Dad to eject. Dad was caught by a piece of the jet and he didn't make it. Mav's blamed himself since and so has Uncle Tom," She takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky. "Mom was pregnant with me at the time, though she didn't find out till a month later. Bradley was four. My mom died in childbirth, so I never knew my actual parents. Mav adopted me but only took guardianship of Bradley. A woman named Charlie helped Mav out for a bit at first, but Penny and Sarah, Uncle Tom's wife, raise us while Mav was on missions. Otherwise, we grew up on base. Uncle Tom taught us how to fly, even Cyclone helped a little, as much as he hates Mav. Jake and I were good friends, we fed off each other's arrogance, even if I was more humble. Now he's done damage that won't be easy to fix."

        Nicole pauses again before continuing. "I wouldn't have gotten upset if I weren't already upset. I've been off since I won the first exercise. I can't seem to get a handle on the mission and I just found out that Uncle Tom's throat cancer is back and worse, Mav and Rooster don't know yet and I shouldn't have shared that. But, I don't want to lose him. He was Mav's wingman and my mentor. I don't want to attend a funeral while I'm here. So yeah, I guess Jake just pressed a nerve that was already hurt," Nicole finishes, letting the information sink into Bob.

      "I'm so sorry Gatsby. That is a lot. I can see what Mav is like now, I can't even imagine what he was like over twenty years ago. Thanks for sharing that with me, unlike Bagman, I won't spill your family secrets. Admiral Kazansky was really your Uncle and Mav's wingman?" Bob slightly changes the topic, trying to lighten the mood.

      "Oh yeah. When we get back, I can show you all the pictures. I can even break into Uncle Tom's office on base and show you some embarrassing childhood pics," Nicole cheers up a little. The two down their drinks and head back. Phoenix misses her WSO but her bet with Payback and Fritz might be paying off.

        After showing the large picture of Iceman and Maverick hanging up, she gives a little picture tour and pulls out a key to the office labeled 'Admiral Tom Kazansky, Commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet.'  Bob wonders how she got it but doesn't ask.

        "This is a picture of Bradley and me with Uncle Ice when we stayed with him and Sarah after Dad got in trouble and deployed," Nicole hands a frame to Bob. As he holds it, he notices half-packed boxes around the office. "Sarah gave me the key to start packing up in here. Uncle Tom works mostly from home anyway so I offered to bring his stuff home," Nicole smiles sadly as she picks up a family photo. It was Tom and Sarah with their kids -both now live on the east coast- alongside Mav with Gatsby and Rooster.

         A week later Nicole is standing beside Sarah and Bradley in her dress uniform. Katie and Ron, Tom's children, were on the other side of Sarah. Nicole catches Bob's gaze in the middle of the service, he can tell she is holding back the tears even if some had already fallen. Penny was on the opposite side of Bradley, supporting her friends and Pete as he stood at the casket. For every shot, a tear rolled down her cheek. Bradley held Nicole's hand tightly, hurting just as much.

          Maverick couldn't cry, Captain's don't cry. When he pounded his wings into the casket, it was his final farewell to his wingman. Tom would forever be the better pilot. He always was. As the funeral ended, the Mitchells and Kazanskys hugged each other and made future dinner plans. Katie and Ron were leaving soon and wanted to catch up with Bradley and Nicole. Bob and Hangman found their way to Nicole soon after. Each of them greeted her with a hug. They were the only two who truly knew how close both she and Rooster were to the Admiral. The rest of the 12 didn't pry, leaving them to mourn in peace.

        "I'm sorry, Gatsby. I know how much he meant to you," Bob wipes her tears from her cheeks.

       "I suppose I knew, but I wasn't ready. He's the first parental figure that I knew before losing," She says. Bob hugs her again before letting her rejoin Rooster in the procession out. She wrote Slider a letter offering her condolences for losing a partner an mailed it as soon as Uncle Tom has died. Gatsby has flown solo for a while, but she has seen the pain of losing a WSO or pilot. While she wasn't close with Slider, he had a recurring presence during her childhood.

A couple of days later, she decides to throw a party at her place for the core 8 as she's nicknamed the group. Rooster was the only one who didn't accept the invite, citing the timeline increase. Fanboy, Payback, Coyote, Hangman, Phoenix and Bob all arrive with different drinks in hand. The theme was an alcoholic potluck. It sounded fun. Half an hour later, everyone is starting to enjoy themselves and Phoenix and Hangman are flirting.

"I can't believe Mav would just hijack the course like that," Coyote says, looking at Gatsby who just shrugs. Rooster told her that Mav was permanently grounded after the funeral.

"My father isn't much of a rule follower," she snorts and throws back a shot. Bob, not being much of a drinker and the assigned DD, adds that to his tab on her. He is worried that she is trying to drown her sadness even if she wanted to bond with everyone. Payback hooks up to a speaker and starts playing music. When Nicole is completely trashed, she sits beside Bob, leaning into him. He awkwardly wraps an arm around her shoulders, not sure what to do. The group decided to share funny stories from different missions. Everyone passes out on the floor, except for Hangman who stumbles to the guest room to claim it. No one finds the second guest room. Bob finds blankets and pillows in a storage closet from Nicole's drunk directions and passes them out before turning everything off and carrying Nicole upstairs.

"Bobby, stay," Nicole slurs, pulling shorts and a ratty shirt out. She also grabs a set of what must be Mavs or Roosters old shorts and shirts, handing them to Bob. Bob awkwardly takes them as Nicole starts to strip. He blushes and quickly turns around. "Don't worry, I'll look the other way," Nicole tells Bob who doesn't turn around but takes her word and undresses. She admires his ass before quickly turning around as to not get caught.

"Alright to bed," Bob walks over to her, pulling up the sheets.

"Only if you sleep here too," Nicole says, to which Bob agrees. He plans on sneaking out of the bed as soon as she falls asleep. "Yay!" Nicole kisses Bob who after a second kisses back. As soon as Nicole tries to go further, he stops her.

"Gatsby, you're drunk. Another time," he promises and she cuddles into him. Bob internally sighs, hoping he didn't ruin their friendship.

When Nicole wakes up, she only vaguely remembers the previous nights events. She realizes that she is cuddling someone, being the big spoon to be more specific. Bob. She remembers kissing him, he must've fell asleep. A quick glance at her clock tells her that it's an hour before everyone needs to be up for today's brief. Nicole untangles herself, heading for the shower. After a quick, cold, shower, she puts on her uniform and heads to the kitchen. She doesn't worry about waking Bob up since her alarm is set.

"Morning," Rooster is leaning against the counter, a coffee in hand.

"What? You weren't even here last night," Nicole steals his coffee, taking a few sips.

"Yeah, when no one returned, I set an early alarm and came over to clean a little and help with breakfast," Rooster motions to the cleaner kitchen and groceries on the counter.

"I can't wait for you and Dad to move in," Mav bought this house after he realized that he wasn't going to be getting another assignment after this mission. He takes over after her rental contract expires. He wants to be close to Penny and the Kazansky's.

"I'll start the pancakes if you do the bacon?" Rooster offers, both of them quickly working to get food ready. Fifteen minutes later, people start waking up to the smell of food.

"Marry me, Gatsby," Hangman moans as he takes a bite.

"Then you will be doing all the cooking," Rooster tells him, not lying. Nicole is definitely not the cook of the family. She can, but it's not on Rooster's level.

"Good morning everyone," Phoenix walks in with Bob, who blushes a little when he sees Gatsby. Within thirty minutes everyone is fed and on their way back to the base.

"Good morning, Sir," Gatsby greets Cyclone in the hall.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Mitchell. We will be going over the valley simulation today. If you could get everyone to the briefing room, that would be appreciated," Cyclone informs her. With a quick nod, she changes directions to get everyone and inform them.

"Your Dad is insane," Bob whispers with a smile.

"He likes to break rules," Gatsby chuckles.

With Maverick being team leader, Gatsby knew there was only a slim chance of being selected as wingman. She hadn't mastered the route like Hangman and Rooster. While she was a great pilot, she is the youngest of the group and still has more to learn.

Hangman is assigned Dagger Spare One while Gatsby is given Dagger Spare Two. She is slightly jealous that she is the only one in the family being left behind, but she knows better than to question her father. She sits in her plane beside Jake listening.

"Come on Rooster, you can do it. Reengage," She whispers from the cockpit. Her heart breaks as she hears about Mav and Rooster both being hit and losing contact. It takes everything in her to stay in the plane and do her job. Hangman tries to get clearance but it doesn't work, her world slows down. Bob stands in her view, non verbally trying to support her. When he and Phoenix landed, it kept her from breaking. She hadn't lost everyone. As soon as Rooster's gps tracker is activated, she lets out a silent sob of happiness. But when the bogie appears on the radar, her heart drops again. Mav has no defenses.

      "Dagger spare two, permission to take off in support," She requests, readying to take off.

     "Dagger spare one, dagger spare two prepare to take off," command says. With a nod to each other, friendship restored, they prepare for a dogfight. She doesn't look at Bob's worried expression.

     "I'm going to lure him away so Maverick can land on the carrier," Gatsby says, intercepting the enemy before it can get lock on Mav and Rooster, who finally activates his radio.

     "Keep him going, I've almost got him!" Hangman says as she is close to being locked on.

     "Hurry up!" She panics as tone starts. Like Rooster and Maverick, she saved them but it will cost her.

      "She copied Rooster," Phoenix says on the boat, a little breathless from shock. They can hear Hangman yelling her actual name, everyone knowing what the next few seconds will bring even if they don't want to admit it.

     "I'm sorry Dad, Bradley, Jake. I tried," Gatsby cries over the radio as her plane is hit.

       "Dagger spare two is down, I repeat, Gatsby is down," Hangman cries out.

      "Gatsby. Nicole," Bob whispers sadly. Maverick and Rooster yell out her name and someone turns it off on the deck, preparing for Maverick and Jake's landing and search and rescues attempt to retrieve her from the ocean, if she was able to eject. Even if she did, it's likely that she hit the water wrong.

    A young man, blonde and wearing a flight suit, stands in front of the confused girl. Ahead of her is a field of wildflowers and she seems to be on a patio with doors that leads somewhere. She realizes that he is saying something she can't hear.

    "-ole. Nicole. Can you hear me?" He says, his voice sounding familiar.

    "Who are you? Why do you know my name? Where am I?" She fires off questions and he laughs at her, only increasing her confusion.

    "Really kiddo? I'm only the best goddamn pilot the Navy had to offer, and the best uncle ever," He smiles and everything clicks.

     "Uncle Ice! Am I dead? Why are you hot?" Nicole hugs him as he laughs.

     "Not yet, you are in sort of an in-between. You have a choice to make. Although, I think it's pretty obvious. As to why I'm hot, I've always been this way. I used to get around before Sarah. Tell Mav to drop his dating rule and give Bob a chance. He's been worried. Before I go and you decide, there are two people who are here to see you. I love you kiddo," Iceman tells her, giving her a tight hug. It's odd seeing him so young, and honestly, her uncle was hot. As he leaves through a door, two people who she's only seen in pictures walk in.

     "Mom? Dad?" Gatsby gasps, running to them and hugging them. She's getting a lot of hugs for a change, not that she minds.

    "My baby. We are so proud," Carole says, taking in her daughter.

     "You are one hell of a pilot. You and Bradley both. Better than Maverick, and better than your brother. Ice would kill me again if I said you were better than him. I'm proud that you three have honored both of us in so many ways. Always singing Great Balls of Fire, carrying our favorite book, having my name, Bradley's call sign," Nick tears up a little, his daughter isn't as much of a copy and paste like Bradley is. To Nick, she is the perfect combination of himself and Carole. The selfish part of him wants to keep her here.

    "Mav flying the F-14, and me ejecting into the ocean then dying?" Nicole offers with a small smile.

    "Yes, even that. We have and always will watch over the three of you. Yelling at Maverick more has become Iceman's greatest past time," Carole laughs, squeezing her daughters arm.

     "Nicky, sweetie, you have a choice to make. You can return or stay here with us," Nick says a bit sadly.

    "Will I still be a pilot?"

    "That's also up to you, baby. We will support you either way," Carole tells her. The once obvious choice has become more difficult. She wants to spend more time with her parents, obviously, but she also has a lot of people waiting on her back home. She has Bob waiting for her.

     "I hope you both know how much I dreamed of this. Well not being dead, but seeing you, living with you. Bradley and Dad did their best to fill me in, but a large part of me was missing my whole life. I always needed you," Nicole says, slightly unsure of her decision, but confident at the same time.

[peterpparkerwrites]

far from love - part six

warnings: language, fighting, jealousy jealousyyy pairing: peter parker x silk!reader word count: 5.5k

masterlist ~ requests are closed ~ part seven

~

"What the hell happened last night?" Were MJ's first words to you the next morning when the class had gathered for breakfast.

It was only a few hours ago that you had left Peter on that rooftop, and you didn't sleep at all when you were back to your hotel room. Not that you had much time if you wanted to, anyway, since the class was meant to be up early to head for Paris.

But you knew that plan was going to have to change if Fury needed you and Peter in Prague.

"Nothing," you shrugged, shaking your head. "Just gave Peter shit for running off yesterday, that's all."

"You haven't talked to him in months," MJ said flatly, not buying it, "And you were gone the whole night. Was it something to do with Silk-"

"Don't want to talk about it right now, MJ," you interrupted her, in case anyone was listening.

Fury hadn't lied when he said he would find a way to get you and Peter to Prague without alerting your classmates. Your teacher chaperones had magically gotten funds and a ride up to the city from Venice. It was a long one, but soon enough you were all shuttled into a bus that was conveniently provided by the tour group company, though you seriously doubted that after taking one look at the driver.

You hadn't talked to Peter since early that morning, and you didn't plan to until you both got to Prague. He was sitting in the back messing with something, but you pretended not to care. It was probably whatever it was that Tony Stark had left for him.

Brad had squeezed himself in between you and MJ and was taking up the whole time on the bus to talk with her, which you found a little bit funny.

"Alright, bathroom breaks!" One of your teachers announced as the bus came to a stop in some town in Austria. You glanced at your phone and saw a message from an unknown number that told you to go to one of the buildings.

Once everyone was shuffled off the bus, you made eye contact with Peter and nodded toward the building. He went with you after checking to make sure no classmates noticed.

"Got the text?" You asked as he neared by, and he nodded. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, and you followed him into the building, shutting the door behind you.

There was a woman in a stealth outfit sitting with two cases at a table, and she stood up when you both came in.

She stared at you both for a second before holding out the two cases. When you both opened them, you saw that they were new suits. You took yours out carefully, not liking the design as much as the one Peter gave you, but it would do. The black would definitely help you blend in.

"Try it on, now," she said in a heavy accent, and you exchanged a look with Peter.

"Can we not wait until-"

"Now!" She cut you off, making Peter jump as he took his shirt off.

"I am not changing right now-" You protested again, making Peter also hesitate.

"Fine, but try on before tonight," the woman huffed, taking her things and leaving. You stared blankly at Peter, who was still paused with his shirt in his hands.

"Dude, put your shirt back on," you said with an eye roll, turning for the door but freezing when it opened first.

"Oh whoa, uh," Brad stuttered looking at shirtless Peter behind you and then you, his eyes widening. "Um. I thought this was a bathroom..."

"This is so not what it looks like," Peter said quickly, but Brad, for some reason, got his phone out and took a picture.

"Hey!" You snapped, trying to grab his phone but he already slid it back into his pocket.

"Sorry guys, but I like MJ, and I know you were trying to get with her," he directed at Peter, "I can't pretend I didn't see this."

"Wait, Brad-"

He had already left as you let out a frustrated noise, "I'm going to kill him."

"He can't show MJ that," Peter said, making you frown a little. "We need to get it off his phone."

"I'll sit next to MJ on the bus and distract her so that he can't show her, but I don't know of any other way," you muttered, shaking your head. "Let's go before he gets the chance."

You were able to sit next to MJ this time, giving Brad a hard look when he tried to get his old seat back, and he gave up. You thought Brad was a nice guy, but this was pretty beyond the line.

For the next few hours, you were able to distract MJ enough so that Brad couldn't get a word in even when he tried. You noticed him looking on his phone and getting frustrated, and you wondered if maybe he didn't get a good picture or something.

By the end of the ride, he seemingly gave up and was the first off the bus, seeming annoyed.

"That was way too long of a ride," MJ complained as you followed her off the bus.

"Agreed," you mumbled, making eye contact with Peter as he followed Ned and Betty off the bus. Why was he wearing glasses?

It seemed like ages later that you were all putting your things away in your hotel rooms, which were a lot nicer than the ones in Venice. MJ hung out with you as you were getting your things situated, despite everyone having separate rooms. She was quiet as you both put your things away, you trying to discretely stuff your new suit into your bag for when the class went out later.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you and Peter?"

"Later," you promised, though you were secretly hoping she would just drop the whole thing. You couldn't tell her the truth without her knowing that Peter was-

"Does it have to do with the fact that Peter is Spider-Man?" She said flatly, and you stared at her. "Y/N, come on, if I could figure out you were Silk, I could easily figure it out about Peter."

Your mouth was gaped open but you didn't get the chance to even think of a reply, because someone knocked on your door.

"Hey, Y/N, we need to-" Peter poked his head in the door that was already partially open. "Oh, uh, hey MJ."

You stared at him for a minute while MJ looked between the two of you. "Um, what's up?"

"We uh, need to go..." his voice trailed off, "Mr. Harrington wants us to go, uh, scope out the square where the carnival is gonna be. For safety reasons..."

"Peter, she knows," you caved, knowing his terrible lying wasn't going to save you both from MJ knowing your secrets. "She knows I'm Silk and apparently she knows you're Spider-Man."

"What?" He squeaked out, much to MJ's satisfaction it seemed, as a smirk rose on her face. "But-I-"

"We don't have time to talk about it," you grabbed your bag, facing MJ, "We have to go do...a thing. Please cover for us?"

"Of course," she easily agreed, eyeing your bags. "Does it have to do with the water monster in Venice?"

"We can explain later," you promised, grabbing Peter by the arm and dragging him out of your room, "Bye!"

You were both able to sneak out easily, changing into your suits before heading toward the building Maria Hill texted you both to meet at. Peter seemed quiet since he realized MJ knew his secret, but you didn't know what to say, so it was mostly silent as you both wandered the streets of Prague.

"I almost blew up the bus," Peter blurted suddenly, and you gave him a look.

"Excuse me?"

"What Tony left me," he held out his hand, showing the pair of glasses you saw him wearing earlier. "They're really high tech, and I don't know how to use them, and I was trying to have it get Brad to delete that photo of us off his phone since it could access people's phones but instead it issued a missile strike on him and I barely stopped it-"

"Okay," you cut him off, "Enough said. Did you get it deleted?"

"Yes," he bit his lip, "And-and it was only because it might expose our identities, not-not because he was gonna show it to MJ, I mean our suits were probably shown in the picture, and then-"

"Peter, you don't need to explain," you muttered, shaking your head, "Can we just focus on the job at hand?"

"Yeah, 'course," he agreed quietly, tucking the glasses away.

A while later, you were both listening to Fury go over the plan multiple times. It was getting a little tiring, and you could tell Peter was just as worried as you were when they talked about where the fire monster was meant to show up.

In the middle of the carnival square.

"Sorry, am I boring you both?" Fury suddenly stated, making you blink back into focus.

"They're not bored," Beck said, a bit of sarcasm in his tone, "They're just thinking about how you basically kidnapped them."

"They had obstacles, and I took care of them," Fury defended himself, glaring at Peter. "If you were listening, what's the plan?"

"I'll be in the cathedral tower, keeping watch," He said, glancing at you, "Y/N will be on the opposite side in one of the alleys. And then when the fire monster attacks, uh, Mr. Beck and I-"

"My name is Mysterio," Beck said flatly, but he widened his eyes with a small smile to show that he was teasing, making you crack a grin.

"Mysterio and I will move in, while Y/N covers back and helps civilians out," Peter finished, also smiling a little.

"And they refuse to evacuate despite our warnings," Hill shook her head, "Idiots."

"Peter, Y/N, listen to me," Mysterio became serious again, seeing both of your hesitations, "The best hope you have, the only hope...is to stop it here, now. No matter what the cost. Maneuver it away from civilians if you can. But most importantly, keep it away from metal. If it gets too big, it'll be able to draw power from the earth's core. After that, there's no way to stop it."

"Hey man, our friends are going to be out there," Peter protested.

"The carnival is right where the fire elemental will show up," you backed him up, starting to get worried. "We'll be putting them in danger."

"You're worried aboutus hurting your friends?" Fury scoffed, looking at Peter, "You? Who called a drone strike on your own school tourbus? Stark gave you a multi-million dollar intelligence system. Andthe first thing you do with it, is try to blow up your friends. It's clear tome that you two are not ready for this."

Peter cringed a little under the criticism, and you agreed that that was pretty harsh. Instead of replying, he just trudged out the door, and Beck shook his head and followed him out.

"You gonna walk out, too?" Fury huffed when he noticed you hadn't moved.

"You dragged us here to help you, so that judgement of us not being ready should have been decided long before this," you said harshly, and Fury gave you a disbelieving look. "We're going to help because that's what you asked, and you don't have a right to tell us we aren't ready when you're the one that made us come here."

You followed Peter and Mysterio out, trying to control your anger.

It was hard to tell which direction they went in, but you followed that ever constant magnet that seemed to pull you towards wherever Peter was. You wished it would go away - you hated that connection to him now. But it did help you find him easily enough, perched on a ledge sitting next to Mysterio, who seemed to be cheering him up.

You were glad at least one of these people was on your side.

Mysterio noticed you coming up and winked, floating upwards, "I'll leave you two to it. I'll see you guys at the square, one hour."

Peter glanced up as you sat next to him, your anger calming down a little. "I gave Fury shit for saying that."

"Thanks," he sighed, fumbling with the glasses in his hands. "He's right, though. I don't deserve these."

"Hey," you shook your head, "He's wrong. It's not your fault Tony didn't leave an instructions manual. With time, I'm sure you'll know how to use them properly."

He didn't seem to agree with you, but he didn't say anything else, either. "I'm gonna see if E.D.I.T.H. can find a way to get our friends out of the square for the fight."

"Good idea," you nodded, pausing. "Edith?"

"It's what these are called," he held up the glasses, putting them on, "Stands for 'Even Dead I'm The Hero'."

You cracked a smile, "That sounds like Tony Stark."

"Sure does," he agreed, his smile a little more forced.

You decided to leave him alone while he figured out the glasses, knowing it would be best to get ready. Also, you didn't want to feel the intense pull between you both anymore - your senses were driving you crazy, and it just seemed to make it worse, when it usually made it better.

An hour later, you were perched at the far end of the square, waiting for the monster to show up.

Peter had been successful in getting E.D.I.T.H. to get your friends away from the carnival. Instead, they'd all be watching a four hour long opera. You felt bad about that, but it was better than them being in the middle of all the danger.

"L/N, Parker, you both on comms?"

"Yes," you replied, hearing Peter's answer a second after yours.

"Energy spiking," You heard Hill's voice, "We have seismic activity."

You tensed as you noticed the ground start to shift, and suddenly flames were erupting in the middle of the square. You jumped into action immediately, yelling at people to get out of the way as you saw Mysterio float down, starting to fight the flames as they took the vague shape of a monster.

Peter swung above your head, landing on another building and shooting a web at a fire hydrant. The water burst upwards and sprayed over the monster and some of the people running away, but it didn't seem to do much other than irritate the elemental.

The monster let out a roar and swatted it's hand to where Peter was perched, making him flip back over it's head. You ducked as it threw more stones, and you ran to where Peter landed, helping him up.

"So, water isn't helping," you said tensely, "What other ideas you got?"

"Oh shit," was his only answer, and you focused on where he was looking, "Beck, he got the carousel, he's getting bigger!"

You noticed he was right - the monster's hands gripped the metal and it started shifting, somehow becoming even bigger. "Oh God."

You and Peter tried to shoot your webs at the monster, but it didn't do anything other than singe them. Mysterio jumped in front of you both at the last minute and put up a green force field, giving you a few extra minutes.

"You kids alright?" He asked breathlessly, and you both flinched as the monster's fists hit the force field.

"Time for plan B," you said, looking at Peter, "There has to be some other way."

"Something it can't absorb," Peter finished for you.

"Okay, you guys go left, I'll go right. Hit him with whatever you can find that isn't metal. Now!"

Mysterio broke the force field and Peter tugged you with him toward the left. You held onto him as he shot a web at an adjacent building and pulled you both upwards away from the fire. While he swung you both away, you shot some webs at various stone chunks on the ground and aimed them for the monster, but it still wasn't enough.

"Beck, now!" Peter yelled, and Mysterio flew back towards the monster and hit him with as many green energy blasts as he could.

"That hurt him, keep the distractions up!" He yelled as he flew by again, avoiding a fiery arm.

Peter landed you both on a lamp post, and starting webbing up large pieces of rubble to swing at the monster. You helped him and did the same thing, but it was clear that Beck was the only one doing any damage.

"Oh my God," you muttered, staring at the ferris wheel as your senses started going off. "There's people in there."

"Is that..." Peter tensed next to you, and before he could finish, you shot a web and swung over to it. Ned and Betty were in one of the carriages.

"Beck, we need to keep it away from the ferris wheel!" You heard Peter on comms as you got there, starting to web the wheel to the other building as it shifted towards the ground. The people inside were screaming, and Ned and Betty looked just as terrified.

"This is exactly what I didn't want to happen," Peter grumbled as he came up next to you, helping you secure the wheel. "Why didn't they stay with the class?"

"It's too late to question that now," you said breathlessly, flipping back over him to secure one last web. "We need to get them out-"

"No!" Mysterio suddenly yelled, and you both looked back to where the monster was now twice as big as before.

"It's too late," you muttered, hands tightening on your webs.

Mysterio's mask slid back, and he turned to look at you both. "Whatever happens, I'm glad I met you both."

"What?" Your heartbeat skipped a beat, "What are you doing?"

"What I should've done last time," he said firmly. His mask slid back on and his hands swirled with more green mist than you had ever seen him use before.

"Beck, don't do it!" Peter protested, but the ferris wheel shuddered again and you both had to pull your webs. Mysterio let out a yell and dived headfirst into the monster.

You both cringed as the monster exploded into green mist, and was suddenly gone. Peter jumped down and ran to where Mysterio was laying on the ground, and you followed him one the wheel was secured.

"Oh, thank God," you sighed in relief when you saw him help Beck up, who looked singed but otherwise okay. "Don't do that again, you scared us."

"So, it's over?" Peter asked hopefully, and Mysterio gave a pained nod as he stood up.

"That's the last of them."

"But not the last threat we'll ever face," Fury stepped out with Hill. You noticed the rest of their team helping the people out of the ferris wheel. "Hill and I are going to our Berlin headquarters. Mr. Beck, we'd be honored if you joined us."

"I might just take you up on that," he cracked a small smile, and Fury turned to you and Peter, his expression hardening.

"You both got skill, but neither of you wanted to be here."

"Mr. Fury, we-" Fury held up his hand and cut Peter off.

"I'd love to have you both in Berlin, but you've got to decide whether you're going tostep up or not," he turned to Peter, "Stark chose you. He made you an Avenger. I need that. The worldneeds that. Maybe Stark was wrong. Was he? The choice is yours."

You couldn't see Peter's expression, but that had to hurt. You wanted to snap at Fury again, but he was already leaving with Hill and the rest of his team, and you were sure you wouldn't be seeing him again anyway.

"Let's go get a drink," Mysterio patted you both on your shoulders.

"We can't drink," Peter protested.

"We need to celebrate," Beck grinned, "I'll order you guys juice boxes."

"Very funny," you rolled your eyes, "But you guys go, I-I should go back to the hotel. The teacher's might've noticed we were both gone and it would be suspicious if we came back together."

Something was bothering you, and your senses were still going off, trying to warn you that something wasn't right. You needed some space from both of them if you were going to get them to relax, since the danger was over.

"Fine, go on back, I'll make sure Peter doesn't have too much juice," Beck winked, and you frowned at how easily he agreed to that.

"Wait-" Peter protested, but you just waved him off.

"Go, have fun, I'll catch up with you later," you said, your tone making it final. Peter still hesitated, but Beck threw an arm over his shoulders and steered him towards a small bar, and you knew he would be in safe hands.

It wasn't until nearly an hour later that Peter came back, trudging downstairs to where you were sitting on one of the hotel couches in the main sitting room. Your classmates were scattered elsewhere around the hotel.

"How was drinks?" You asked hesitantly, and Peter shrugged. He seemed off.

"They were fine," he said hesitantly, "I just-"

"Peter," MJ's voice startled you both, and her eyes darted between you two. "Can I have a word?"

"Yeah, 'course," Peter jumped up quicker than you thought was necessary, and you pretended that didn't bother you. "Uh, I'll be right back, Y/N."

"Sure," you tried not to grit your teeth as they both headed outside the hotel, and you definitely tried not to think about what they could be talking about.

"So," Ned's voice almost made you jump as he sat next to you on one of the benches. "Silk, huh?"

Your shoulders slumped, "Yeah, I forgot that I basically told you that."

"Y/N, that is so cool!" He started rambling about it, but you didn't have the heart to really listen or respond properly, instead focused on the door that MJ and Peter had walked through.

You weren't stupid. You knew how Peter felt about MJ. And while MJ was a hard book to read, you had a feeling that the feelings were mutual. You remembered Spider-Man - Peter, whatever - saying that he had feelings for someone else, and that's why he couldn't be with you.

Which brought you back to why you were wanting to get on a plane and go home already.

"I mean, when I caught Peter in the suit I had dropped the entire lego death star, it had taken so long to build too-"

"Hey Ned, look at these pictures!" Betty's voice suddenly interrupted him, and you were kind of glad he was distracted from rambling to you.

But as soon as you started heading for the stairs, you nearly bumped into Peter on his way back in with MJ, though you didn't see where she went.

"Oh, hey," he said a little nervously, making you raise an eyebrow.

"Good talk with MJ?" You hoped it didn't come out as harsh as it seemed to, but Peter shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess," he bit his lip.

"Cool."

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe I should go to bed-"

"Actually, since the bad stuff is over..." Peter started, and your jaw clenched when you realized what he was implying. "Want to take a walk?"

You didn't want to talk about it. In fact, you didn't plan on talking about it when you got home, either - you just hoped avoiding him would work. But you promised him that once you both stopped the elementals, then you would talk to him - so you just nodded and followed him out the same door he and MJ had just walked through.

Neither of you said anything for a while, just walking along one of the many bridges over the river. The night was a lot more peaceful than it had been a few hours before.

"Why don't you start," you suggested, "I don't really have anything to say until I hear your side."

"You said I wasn't a superhero," he sounded dejected, and you remembered the exact moment he was talking about - the last time he was your best friend.

"Peter, how was I supposed to know you were Spider-Man?" You asked softly, "I didn't mean it as a dig, I meant it literally at the time-"

"No, I know," he sighed, "I just...it really put into perspective that you didn't know I was a superhero. You didn't know that I did have the capability to stop him from-"

"You could not have stopped Thanos," you cut him off, "It took all of the Avengers and a ton of other heroes to do that."

"That's not my point," he argued, running a hand down his face. "You were a separate part of my life that I wanted to keep safe and...normal. With Ned and May it's always Spider-Man this, Spider-Man that...but you were my friend because I was Peter, not Spider-Man. When you said that I wasn't a hero, I realized that I wouldn't be able to keep you separate from that if I kept you in my life, and I didn't want anything to happen to you like it happened to Uncle Ben, and Tony. So I had to let you go."

You clenched your jaw, trying to process his words and understand them from his point of view. But just because you could understand his side, didn't mean it was right.

And a lot of what he did after the fact was still inexcusable.

"But that wasn't all I did," he continued, as if being able to read your mind as you resisted tearing up, thinking about the last conversation you had with him before you knew he was Spider-Man.

"Do you not realize how fucked up it was to mess with my feelings the way you did?" You sniffed, not meeting his eyes but knowing they were full of guilt. "You just let me tell you how I felt about you when I thought you were a different person, and then you kissed me when I didn't know it was you, and then you tell me you don't feel that way and-and that was so fucked up, Peter."

"I know, I know," he tugged at his hair, "I kept messing up. I kept trying to find a way to not hurt you but I kept doing the opposite, and I am so sorry. I wanted to be your friend again, but I didn't want you to like me like that anymore. I had feelings for MJ, or at least, I thought I did."

He hesitated, "That night, when you were sitting that close to me, I just... I don't know what happened. Ever since you got bit and we started building a friendship again, it's felt like there's this pull between us and I always want to be around you. Before the bite, I didn't want you to get mixed up in my Spider-Man business, and then when you were Silk and told me your feelings, I thought of a way to try and be your friend again but not hurt you when I didn't reciprocate your feelings. But now that we got close again I realized that maybe...I always felt that way about you. Not maybe, I have always felt that way about you, and I-I still do."

Your head was already starting to hurt from the beginning of this conversation, but his last sentence about maybe having feelings for you this whole time made you want to scream into a pillow. Again.

"Maybe you should go back to your room, Peter," you struggled to say, trying not to meet his eyes in case you broke down. He stared at you blankly for a minute.

"W-What? But I-"

"You lied. About so much. I need some space, so please, just go back to the hotel," you said again, knowing you shouldn't keep avoiding your problems like this, but you couldn't even look at Peter after everything he just said.

"I don't want to walk away from you again," he protested, but you just shook your head.

"I need space and time to think about everything you just said to me, this is way too much after the last two days. If you won't go back I will, but please just give me some space for the rest of this trip."

"Y/N, I-"

Suddenly something fell out of his pocket and onto the ground, and the both of you stumbled back as the fire monster came out of nowhere in front of you.

"Shit!" You nearly tripped trying to back up from where the monster was...but then you realized it was completely different. "What the hell?"

"How..." Peter's voice trailed off as you both stared at the monster, but it wasn't like it was in the square a few hours ago...it was a projection. For one, it was ten times smaller, and it was flickering as though the whole image wasn't there. It only moved in one motion, and there wasn't any sound, either.

Peter slowly went up to the projector and nudged it with his foot, and suddenly the projection flickered and vanished. You both stared at each other in shock.

"Where...where did you get that?"

"MJ," Peter's face turned red as he said it, making your frown deepen. "Uh, when she asked to talk to me alone earlier, she-she said she found this and thought it was from when we were fighting the elemental-"

"And you didn't start the conversation with this?' You demanded, picking the projector up.

"I didn't know that's what it was!" He protested, "How was I supposed to know-"

"We need to find Fury," you said quickly, stuffing it in your pocket, "You know what this means, right?"

"It was all an illusion," he seemed to read your mind, "Beck created them all, he must've, he knew all about them. But why?"

"I don't know, but we need to go figure it out."

"Right."

You were both quick to get to your hotel room, managing to dodge MJ and Ned's questioning looks. Luckily your teachers seemed to be preoccupied with getting tickets home straight away.

"Get E.D.I.T.H. out, maybe she can track him!" You suggested as you both got into your room, but Peter's expression fell. Right away you paused, feeling his stressed energy just get ten times worse. "Where are the glasses, Peter?"

"I-I don't have them. I gave them to Beck."

"What?" You nearly screeched, and Peter flinched. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"I-I just, I don't deserve them, okay!" He defended himself, "I never should've gotten them. I fucking left them on the floor of the bar, if I can't keep track of a multi million dollar pair of glasses, then I shouldn't have them! And Beck had just saved everyone and he said they looked stupid on me and when he tried them on I realized that in Tony's note maybe they weren't meant for me because I can't be the next Iron Man, Y/N, I'm not even good at being Spider-Man!"

You were silent for a minute after his rant, and he just sat down on your bed and put his head in his hands. You hadn't realized over the last few days how stressed and anxious this trip probably made him, and you certainly didn't realize how much he thought he had to live up to Tony. The comments from Fury seemed to bother him, but you didn't realize the extent.

"I'm sorry," you said after a few seconds, sitting next to him, "I shouldn't have gotten angry at you, I probably would have done the same. But you have to see that he set you up for you to give them to him, right? He manipulated you, he manipulated all of us."

"I know," he sighed, seeming to have calmed down, "We need to go get him. What are we going to tell the teachers?"

"My mom and your aunt wanted us both back immediately so they booked us direct tickets home," You said quickly, "It's a shitty plan but that's the most believable thing I could come up with."

"They're probably a mess right now anyway trying to get everyone home," Peter agreed, "It sucks, but it might work."

He was right, it did suck, but at this point it was the best you could come up with. You both needed to get to Fury in Berlin and tell him what happened so you could stop Beck from whatever he was going to use E.D.I.T.H. for.

You had to put the entire conversation you just had with him on the back burner for this.

"Go get dressed. We need to find a way to Germany, fast."

~

tag list:

@somefuckshit1 @hufflepuffseeker @nocturnalms @sanniesdiary @peter-parkers-passport @chosuah01 @runawaywithmyghost @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |  F O U R

You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t   f o u r  |  k e y s

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 4.4k warnings: angst, s m u t, some more s m u t, teasing, finger-licking good billy boy, implied/referenced cheating, def not a healthy, functioning relationship (but like eh we persevere), some more s m u t. 

Despite your best efforts, the last few days had been miserable without Billy.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a routine he’d become over the last seven months, how much you’d both come to rely on each other and, fuck, did you miss him. You missed his smell, you missed that small little cheeky grin of his, you missed curling up beside him and feeling him over every inch of your skin. Your body craved for him in an almost primal way but, while you could live with denying your body its needs, it was your heart that hurt the most.

What was supposed to be a quick release for the two of you had never been that easy. You’d been in love with the idiot since freshman year, seen him through his various ups and downs and he’d seen yours, too. Which was precisely what made this entire situation that much harder. Not only were you dealing with your own heartache, but you were witnessing his, too.

Billy’s grief was more or less a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of thing. Ever the stoic silent type, you hadn’t expected to see much of what he was feeling splayed out on that handsome face of his, but shocking even you, his regret was palpable. And each and every time those brown eyes met yours, that grief that was as clear as day struck you blind.

You’d tried telling yourself that it was for the best because, in all honesty, it was but that didn’t make the pain go away. Nor did it make you miss him any less. You were trapped in a vicious cycle of missing Billy, sticking to your guns, and worrying about him all at once.

God, you’d really fucked up with this one.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tatum asked, narrowing her eyes at you as you shoved a handful of books into your locker. “You’ve been scatterbrained all week.”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” she leaned her hip against the locker. “Is this about Steve?”

You blinked as the question played on loop in your head. “Steve?” You asked, giving the strawberry blonde your full attention. “First of all, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: ew. Secondly, huh?”

Tatum smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you’ve been acting all weird since Billy went psycho on his ass last week.”

“No, I haven’t,” you hoped your laugh didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “Also, Steve’s an asshole. If the day ever comes when I am interested in that big oaf, feel free to euthanize me.”

“Promise,” she made a motion of crossing her heart, “but in the meantime, you swear nothing is up?”

“Cross my heart,” you mimicked the gesture and shut your locker. “What are you up to after practice tonight? Want to go see that new Brad Pitt movie?”

Her shoulders fell. “Can’t, Stu’s coming over,” she unwrapped a lollipop and shoved it in her mouth. “I’d say ask Sid, but she got into it with Billy last night so she’s in a mood.”

You tried not to care, you really did, but her words hit you like a freight train. “They did?” You asked, hoping beyond hope that your voice didn’t sound quite as high pitched as it sounded in your head. “What happened?”

“Who knows,” Tatum shrugged, “Billy’s always been a little intense and Sid’s been a little cagey since…well, you know – so, it’s bound to happen.”

You swallowed hard and continued to nod along to Tatum’s words. Were you nodding too frequently? Did you appear too interested all of the sudden? Catching yourself, you focused on the leftover gum on the locker just behind your friend’s head and cleared your throat. “That’s shitty.”

“Relationships,” Tatum waved off, “they’re all pretty shitty sometimes.”

Before you could finish putting your foot in your mouth any further, the third bell rang out signaling your next class. Your most dreaded class: Biology. With a groan you tossed your bag over your shoulder and frowned across at Tatum. “See you at practice?”

With a nod, Tatum took off towards her class as you slowly sauntered towards your own. You were halfway down the hall when you heard a set of heavy footfalls running towards you from behind. Glancing over your shoulder, you barely had time to register Stu’s smiling face before he threw an arm around your shoulders. “How ya doing, pal?”

“Peachy,” you scraped your eyes along his profile and blinked. “If you’re about to play the rule of dutiful henchman for you know who, I’ve got a class to flunk.”

“Harsh,” Stu beamed, “I see why our boy’s so smitten.”

With a roll of your eyes, you glanced around at the people around you and glowered up at him. “Stu,” you warned, “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“For what?” He feigned innocence. “I haven’t said a word.”

“But you want to,” you mused. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Stu chuckled. “All I was going to say is, like, I get it.”

You shouldn’t have taken his bait. What you should have done was push him off of you and continue on your merry way to class. That would have been the smart thing to do, the responsible thing to do.

Too bad you were neither of those two things.

Roped in, you sighed in defeat. “Get what?”

“I’ll be the first to admit,” he began, “when Bill told me that you and him were…you know, I laughed. I mean, two broads, man? I can barely handle the one how’s he going to deal with two of you?”

“I’m hoping there’s a point coming,” you groused.

“Right,” he laughed again, “my point is that I get it. I get why you two work. Why he’s knee deep in this big fucking mess because of it. You two work.”

“Stu,” you threw your head back and glared at the ceiling. “Stop.”

“What?” He asked. “Am I wrong?”

You gently pushed him away from you and dropped your voice into a whisper. “That’s not the point. He’s with Sid.”

“So?” Stu made a face. “Her mom just died, what do you want him to do? Dump her and break her heart? Her mom just died, that’d callous, man.”

“We’re breaking her heart either way, whether she knows it or not.”

Stu stopped walking and there was a compassion in his stare that left you reeling. For as long as you’d known him, Stu Macher had always been the goof. The reckless, chaotic idiot that seemed to fit just perfectly into your little mish mash of a group. But the sincerity in his blue eyes as the two of you stood in the emptying hallway was a look you’d never seen before.

“And by doing this, you’re breaking yours.” He limply shrugged. “Billy’s, too.”

Your shoulders fell as the weight of Stu’s words sank in. You couldn’t exactly say much in terms of a rebuttal, naturally, because he was right. There were no happy endings for either of you at this point in the charade. Sid had still been lied to and cheated on, Billy was still trapped in a relationship he no longer wished to be in in fear of hurting the girl he once loved and you were stuck in the middle, watching two people you cared for fall to bits while having to remain stoic in fear of showing your hand.

What a fucking mess.

After another minute of silence, Stu wriggled his eyebrows and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Just something to think about.”

Taking off down the hall, Stu left you to your own devices as you stood in the middle of an empty hallway with far too much on your mind. In an almost zombie-like trance, you took off in the direction of your biology class, not quite caring that you were about to be marked as tardy for the third time that week. But, before you got to that god-forsaken class, you heard the click of a door not far off before a pair of arms encircled around your middle, yanking you into the nearest classroom. A surprise yelp tore out of your mouth, but the full-fledged scream died in your throat as soon as you realized just who it was who had grabbed you.

“Jesus, Billy, you scared the hell out of me.” You grasped your chest and took in the dark, empty classroom around you. He was still holding you against the nearest wall, you could feel the heat of those large hands through your thin shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry,” despite the desperation in those brown eyes, his voice never wavered. It was still as calm and collected as ever. “I’d go to your house, but it’s been like Fort Knox for the last week or so.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment before averting your eyes to the ground, not quite being able to stomach the weight of his stare just yet. “Billy, unless anything’s changed, I—”

“In case anything’s changed?” He reiterated with raised brows. “Everything’s changed. I miss you, Y/N, more than you can even comprehend. I know I’ve fucked up, I know that, but I need you. The last nine days without being able to really see you or feel you or kiss you or—”

“I get it,” you held your hands up and gently pushed him away. “And it’s been hard on me, too, Billy. But it doesn’t change anything.”

For a few, long, agonizing moments, Billy remained still as a thousand different emotions splayed out across his face. There was anger and grief, sadness and desperation. But the look you got as he dropped to his knees in front of you was pure, unadulterated fear. “I promise you, Y/N, the second I can, when the time is right, Sid and I will be no more. But me and you are it, sweetheart,” his hands gently circled around your hips before embracing you around your middle. “I’m so fucking sorry that this is how it has to be right now. And I’m sorry that I’m too fucking selfish to let this go, but I can’t. I need you. I need us. You’re everything good in my life and I know I need to start proving that to you.”

Still, you remained quiet. Your fingers itched to reach out and run your fingers through that slightly greasy, unruly mop of hair, but instead you kept them pinned down at your side as you considered his words. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant them, the desperation on his face said as much, but you had your reservations. Taking your silence in stride, however, Billy simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Oh, jesus,” you grumbled, burying your head in your hands. “You better not be doing what I think you’re fucking doing.”

“Open the box, Y/N.”

“No,” you held your hands up. “Not if it’s…that.”

Billy sighed. The muscle in his cheek twitched. “It’s not a fucking engagement ring.”

Somewhat relieved, you continued to stare down at the box in slight disdain. “So, what is it?”

Billy sighed. “Fucking open it and you’ll see.”

“Buying the ‘other woman’ jewelry, Billy?” You shook your head. “You’re like a walking cliché at this point.”

“Shut-up and open the goddamn box.” Standing up to his full height, he continued to hold the box out towards you and breathed out a quiet laugh when you remained unwavering. “It’s not a fucking bomb, Y/N, open it.”

With a sigh, you snatched the box out of his hand and, rather unceremoniously, opened it up to reveal a key. Not a fancy skeleton key or a charm in the shape of a key but a regular, run of the mill house key. You blinked, mildly surprised. “Okay, I’ll give you a point for creativity with the box,” you pulled the key out and observed it. “But what is it?”

“It’s a key,” Billy said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I see that,” a small smile pulled at your lips as you looked across at him. “What’s it for?”

“It’s a key to my parents’ cabin.”

If you were meant to understand the significance, the story was lost on you. Looking back down at the key, you surveyed its tiny ridges briefly before nodding. “And what’s that have to do with me?”

He took a step towards you and grabbed the hand still clutching onto the key. “My dad doesn’t go up there much ever since my mother left and I figure we could both use a place where we can just…be.” His raked his thumbnail along your knuckles. “No Sid, no anyone. Just you and me.”

You were trying to remain unfazed by the sentiment, to remain icy and cool to the man you were supposed to be pulling away from, but between the softness in those warm brown eyes and the weight of the key still clutched in your hand, you could feel your defenses waning. “You expect Sid to just not care that you’re disappearing up north every once in a while?”

“I’ll make it work,” he shrugged it off. “And, to be honest, I don’t care what she thinks.”

Your answer came in the form of a long, drawn out sigh. “Billy,” you began, but before you could dive into the rest of your speech, his large hands slid up your arms and neck to cradle your face.

Slowly, he backed you into a nearby desk and traced the apple of your cheek with his thumb. “We can sneak up there whenever we want. Spend a whole weekend up there, just the two of us. I can worship this fucking body of yours in every square inch of that cabin. I can go into town and hold your fucking hand in public. We can do whatever the hell it is we want to do up there, whenever we want, without worrying about any of our idiot friends seeing us.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of being able to parade around like a normal couple in a town where not a single soul knew who you were. You swallowed, trying to steady your excitement with a dose of realism. “It’s still not fair to Sidney.”

“Fuck Sidney!” Billy’s voice echoed out around the vast, empty classroom, alarming you with just how angry he sounded. His chest heaved with a white-hot rage that you couldn’t fully comprehend, and his jaw was wound shut as his nostrils flared with each and every heavy, uneven breath he took. You swallowed hard and watched the man steady his nerves, unsure of your next move. You’d seen Billy angry before, but that level of emotion was definitely new.

You weren’t sure whether to be terrified or turned on by the sudden outburst.

But, just as quickly as it happened, Billy’s eyes slowly opened to reveal those molasses coloured eyes again. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he appeased. “But I can’t have her stand in the way of this. I won’t.”

You remained silent as you shimmied on top of the desk that had been poking into your ass for the last few seconds and tried not to focus on the way your body seemed to melt into Billy’s as he stepped in between your legs, still looking at you with all the intensity of the world.

“If we do this,” you found yourself muttering, “there’s going to be some ground rules.”

A sense of hope blossomed in Billy’s chest as he vigorously nodded his head. “Anything you want,” sliding his hands up the sides your stomach, he gently held your waist and gave it a small squeeze. “You name it.”

“When we go up to the aforementioned cabin, we go out.” You told him. “While I’m more than happy to blow you in the living room without worrying about your dad walking in, it would be nice to go on an actual fucking date.”

Billy nodded and, with his hands still on your waist, he tried not to focus on the thin cotton of your shirt bunching between his fingers as his thumb danced along your ribcage. There was so little between you in the empty classroom, barely any space as the two of you were practically nose to nose. And between that short little skirt you had on and your pert nipples beneath your thin tank top, it was enough to make his cock twitch inside of his pants. “Anything else?” He asked, his voice husky as he nudged his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you ran your tongue along your now parched lips as you sat with Billy standing between your thighs, holding you in place as his thumb traced agonizingly close to your tit. Were you even breathing? It didn’t feel like it. You were wet, too, which made his inhumanly close proximity almost too much to bear. “Lock the fucking door this time.”

A roguish grin enveloped his features as he stepped out from between your legs. Crossing the threshold of the classroom in two seconds flat, Billy locked the door and made his way back to you with that same mischievous glimmer in his eye. His eyes were hungry and, as his hands shifted down to your ass, he tugged you even closer to the edge of the desk. Closer to him. With your legs still open and on either side of his hips, you just about died when your clit managed to rub against the zipper of his jeans.

A quiet, low moan tore out of your throat from the sensation.

“Anything else?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” your breathing was ragged as Billy’s slow, methodical fingers, trailed up the side of your stomach. He was being extraordinarily temperate and slow to further tease you but, despite knowing how risky this was, you were putty in his hands. “Touch me.”

His nose brushed against yours again as he shifted his hips just enough for the zipper of his jeans to rub against your clit again. The bastard knew what he was doing.

“This feel good?” He asked as his hips toiled into you again.  

You were practically dry fucking against the desk, you could have been caught any second. But, fuck, when he pulled you in a little more and slowly gyrated his jean-clad pelvis against your clit again, you couldn’t care less. “Mhmm,” you hummed.

Slowly, Billy’s dept fingers slid up from your waist towards your breasts. Raking his thumb against the swollen bud, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the side of your neck.

He knew his jeans were rubbing against your clit and, as he looked down and saw the visible wet patch on your blue thong, he wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you and bury his face in between your legs. “God, I’ve fucking missed you.”

When his hand squeezed your breast, you arched into his grasp. “I bet you did.”

Billy smirked and rolled your nipples between his fingers through the fabric of your shirt. With every roll of your hips, the strap of your shirt slipped down just enough to expose your breast. Without missing a beat, Billy leaned into your chest and allowed his mouth to consume your nipple, swirling his tongue around it expertly before biting down. You hissed as a combination of both pain and pleasure ripped through your body.

Your fingers curled around the hair along the nape of his neck and gave it a firm tug as is hands held you firmly in place. “Fuck, Billy” you moaned, breathless.

He released your nipple slowly, nipping at it one final time before leaning his forehead against yours again. You wanted like hell to close the distance between you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. Feel the tickle of his stubble along your upper lip and have that expert tongue brush against yours.

But you also wanted to make him sweat a little.  

You weren’t sure what had come over you as you slid your hand down your torso. Maybe it was adrenaline of being caught or the relief of having Billy in your arms again but as you allowed your fingers to dip beneath the hem of your exposed thong, the look on Billy’s face made it all worth it.

“What are you doing?” His Adams apple bobbed up and down as he watched you touch yourself. You were in an awkward angle, but as your finger circled your clit and you watched the bulge in his pants grow, you were coasting high.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” You hummed, feigning innocence. “When I say touch me, I mean it, Billy. I’m taking matters into my own hands.” You pinched your clit and arched your naked chest into him. “Fuck.”

You heard him swear under his breath as his lips ghosted over yours. “You’re doing my head in, woman,” he growled, sliding his fingers beneath your panties. You gasped when his thumb began to circle your clit. And when he slid two fingers inside of you, you nearly saw stars.

His mouth found yours, mid-moan. Reaching the hand that had just been down the waistband of your shorts, you ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue coaxed yours. Everything about this man was electric. His fingers quickened their pace and before you knew it, you were thrusting into his hand. Placing sloppy kisses down from your mouth and along your jaw, Billy nipped at your ear. “How’s this for touching you, sweetheart?” He hissed, licking and biting his way across your neck.

Your breathing was rampant as you felt yourself edging closer and closer. “It’s alright,” you teased with a cloudy grin.

“So stubborn,” he laughed into your neck and curled his fingers so that he hit an area inside you that felt almost primal. The moan he got in return made him bite down on your collarbone. He curled his fingers again and you nearly choked. “You sure?”

Pulling his hair, you steered his face back to yours and crashed your lips against his. “Fuck me.” You mumbled into his mouth.

He applied the smallest bit of pressure to your clit and flicked his fingers one final time, sending you over the cliff. With a long, shaky moan, you bucked your hips uncontrollably as you came into his hand. Every inch of you felt as though it was on fire as Billy made you ride out your orgasm, not for a second easing up on your clit as you writhed beneath him.

“Play with your tits,” he barked out through hooded eyes.

“You play with them,” you argued, but the resolve in your voice was gone. You weren’t entirely sure if you knew your name at that point. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger pinching your highly sensitive clit and that was it. Everything else was a blur.

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn.”

You were so wet and so turned on you could barely think straight. “Billy,” you pleaded, your entire body heating up almost unbearably so. When he ignored you and instead continued his attack on your clit, you whimpered. “I need you to fuck me.”

With a bruising kiss, Billy released your clit and, in seconds flat, tugged his jeans far enough down his hips before slipping inside of you. The moan that escaped your lips was undeniable as he pumped into you. Reaching up, he grabbed your tit and squeezed as he bit down on your exposed neck. It was a sensory overload coming from all angles.

“Fuck,” Billy’s hoarse voice was in your ear as he pumped into you. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He reached for your face and tilted your chin up towards him, meeting you halfway with a sloppy kiss. Moaning into his mouth, you managed lose yourself in that instance.

Gone was the room around you.

Hell, gone was everything up until this point.

All you could focus on was the feeling of Billy inside of you. Biting down on his lip, you tugged it back as he rolled his hips in a way that made you quiver. He was thrusting, hard, in an almost animalistic that made your entire body shake with the velocity of every desperate push. He moved between kissing your lips, to biting them to suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. He was a man, unhinged, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him so sexy.

Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when his forehead dramatically fell against your own.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, simply just remained still and firmly pressed against one another. But, as the weight of your current whereabouts slowly dawned on either of you, you both slowly pulled away from each other, both wearing a small smile as you re-dressed yourselves.

Once his pants were done up, Billy stepped into you once again and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Cabin this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and hopped down from the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” you teased, fixing your skirt.

Billy’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, maybe, eh?”

“Yeah,” you winked, “I’ll think about it.”

“Smart ass,” Billy smirked. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“I’m counting on it.” Once you were both fixed up, you nodded towards his hand which was still slicked with your juices. You laughed. “Oops.”

But Billy didn’t seem fazed. Instead, your breath hitched in your throat when he raised his hand to his lips and licked your slick clear off, relishing in the taste of it with a knowing smirk on his face. “This weekend.” He reiterated, driving the point home.

“This weekend,” you agreed, walking towards the door. Ensuring nobody saw the two of you leave an empty classroom together, you unlocked the door and gave Billy a small, knowing smile. “See you at lunch, lover boy.”

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

[mikasaessucasaa]

Title: do you get deja vu?

Summary: Peter saves the world, but Michelle never remembers him.

A/N: I may have just flipped the amazing @i-lovethatforme’s concept in the monsters creep into your house, whoops blame the NWH trailer

––

PART 1

Her roommate is staring at her again from the other side of the couch, this time while she’s trying to eat spaghetti and watching a murder mystery on Netflix. He made dinner and claimed that he cooked way too much to finish on his own – Michelle believes none of this because she's seen him eat and the guy could do work, but Michelle knows better than to turn down a free meal in college.

Peter’s super sneaky about the staring, turning almost faster than the eye can catch when he notices her noticing him, but she’s super observant. She may not be a superhero but she has impressive as hell deductive reasoning, if she does say so herself. And all of the signs say that he’s got a pretty massive crush on her.

He seems like a lovely person when he can get the words out and he’s not bad looking. She might have even accidentally seen a six pack when he was stretching. She’s sure someone would find him really amazing and endearing, but no offense to him but Michelle thinks he’s kind of a dweeb.

Not that she thinks she’s god’s gift to mankind or that she’s categorically cool herself, but they don’t have anything in common, except perhaps they’re decently smart enough to get into MIT. She needed a roommate and he needed a place to live their junior year. Apparently they had gone to high school together at Midtown. This seems like one of those things that Michelle definitely would have noticed, but even someone as skilled at finding the truth as her had to chalk it up to one of life’s mysteries when she absolutely could not recall him, despite the fact that they apparently even had classes together.

“Sup loser?” she asks, deciding to confront him about his staring this time. Sometimes she ignores him, if she's feeling generous.

His face turns pink and he stutters out, “You, uh, have spaghetti on your face.”

Peter makes a motion to show where and Michelle follows.

“No, uh, here.” Peter scoots closer to her and rubs her cheek.

The touch is electrifying, not as if he had shocked her, but in that it felt so, so familiar. She shivers at the feeling; it was disturbing.

As if sensing her apprehension with his touch, he practically jumps back to the other side of the couch.

“Uh, Gwen’s coming by so we can finish our advanced neuromolecular paper. I hope you don’t mind.”

She shakes her head. She likes Gwen. She’s really beautiful with her dimpled smile, and she’s so kind and warm – the kind of warm that Michelle could never imagine herself being.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can give you guys the apartment so you guys can focus.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

Michelle shrugs. “It’s cool. Brad’s been begging for me to come to this concert for forever anyways.”

The band is kind of lame and too hipster, and not the interesting kind where they’re pushing the boundaries of music and trying really weird shit, but the mainstream hipster kind that tries too hard. But Brad’s really excited about it, and his excitement makes her smile and happy.

“Besides, Gwen’s super cute. You should make a move. You two would be perfect for each other.”

Peter’s bright red, but she doesn’t think it’s because he’s being bashful. Instead he looks constipated.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asks.

But he simply shakes his head, excuses himself, and stomps to his bedroom. What a weird dude.

PART 2

[harryspet]

why won’t you love me | peter parker

[Warnings] peter parker x dark reader, yandere reader, sub!peter, dom!reader, crime boss au, stalker au, senior year au, kidnapping, violence, underage drinking, noncon sex, oral sex (male receiving), bondage, peter and reader are 18

A/N: This is inspired by two ideas I received as well as the lyrics  “I will have you, yes, I will have you. I will find a way and I will have you. Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly, I will collect you and capture you.” Obsession- Animotion for @mariessecretfantasies​ 500 Follower Writing Challenge! Please go follow her and read her dark fics :)

TRIGGERING ADULT CONTENT AHEAD

In which Peter won’t love you so you force him to. 

word count: 3.4k

main masterlist 

Mr. Shum was famous. You, his daughter, were not. This led you to hosting parties at your father’s mansion to up your cool points. It was senior year and, since everyone wanted to party, you were often the one people called. Your father didn’t mind, it only solidified his cover as a gracious and kind businessman. His kind eyes and humor was enough to make a lot of believe it but you knew that you were the only person he was kind to. 

You’d seen enough severed limbs to know that was true. 

Brad had set the entire thing up and all you had to do was order your servants to get things in order. Peter was coming tonight and you’d finally get the chance to properly thank him for saving your life a few months ago. Maybe you’d even confess your feelings and the life you always dreamed of would start tonight. 

Maybe you’d start with like instead of love. You loved him but maybe telling him that would scare him away. You didn’t want him to run from you. 

You had known Peter since fifth grade but he still felt out of touch with him. You were never more than friends. Not even close friends, practically acquaintances. That was going to change. 

The dress you were wearing was completely out of your comfort zone but you did your best to dress like the other girls did at your school. It was a silver body con dress that gripped your curves and highlighted features that you didn’t even know you had. When Brad saw you, his mouth was completely agape, “Woah, you look great!” Your mouth began to tug into a smile but, before you knew it, he was shoving a large paper bag into your hands, “Put this in the punch, will you?”

You looked down to see several bottles of vodka, “Is that safe?” You asked, your tone worried. 

“Yeah, of course,” Brad insisted, starting to walk away, “This is going to be amazing, Y/N!”

You sighed walking over to the refreshments table. People were already starting to show up and soon the entire senior class would be there. You twisted open the bottles and poured them to the glass bowl. It wasn’t long before kids were shoving their red cups into the mixture. 

After you were done, you simply dusted your hands together and went to look for your spider darling. Your giant living room flashed with multicolored lights as a song by a rapper you didn’t know played loudly over everyone’s shouting. Like instinct, you could sense where he was. You found him slouched against a white pillar, sipping at a red solo cup. 

He was wearing one of his nice button ups and a pair of jeans. Oh god, you loved the color blue on him. Any color looked good on him actually, “Hi, Peter,” You smiled, tapping his shoulder. He seemed to be distracted but you blamed it on the alcohol, “Enjoying the party?”

As his head turned and those brown eyes looked into yours, your heart melted, “Y-Yeah,” He stuttered awkwardly, leaning his hand against the pillar, “Your house i-is beautiful … nice decor.”

“You think so?” You tried not to seem eager as you imagined Peter coming over all of the time. After school to study … maybe the two of you taking a dip into the pool. You imagined that his body was heavenly. Sculpted by a God-

“Yeah, it’s great,” Peter grinned. He grinned at you, “Y-You look nice. I’ve never seen you dress like that.” Did he think you were cute or was he trying to spare your feelings? Did he prefer how you normally dressed? You were overthinking. 

“I’m trying something new. You look nice too,” Peter nodded his thanks, “You’re drinking?” You gestured to his cup. 

“Nope, sprite,” Peter said, “May would kill me and I have to make sure Ned gets home in one piece. I don’t know if alcohol is really my thing…”

Did he look down on you because you were throwing a party that was serving alcohol? Did he look down on you because you were drinking? You held your cup close to your side as you said, “Me too. I mean, I don’t really get the people who can only have fun when they’re drunk …” You were sure your conversation wasn’t going well but Peter still seemed to be receptive to you. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he did have feelings for you, “So, we’ve missed you at Academic Bowl.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Peter said, causing your cheeks to heat. You knew he was referring to everyone in Academic Bowl but you couldn’t help but take it personally, “I wish I had the time. This moment right here is the only freedom I’ve had in like six months.”

“And you’re spending it caring for a drunk Ned?” You raised an eyebrow. 

Peter shrugged, chuckling, “Well, when you say it like that it sounds crazy,” You loved his laugh. You loved how he nervously tucked his hand into his front pocket. 

“Peter, I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while,” He perked up and looked at you attentively like he actually cared. You played with the ends of your dress nervously, looking down a bit as you decided to finally let your feelings go, “That day on the bridge when our bus was about to go over the edge … I never knew real fear until then. I thought I’d experienced all the trauma in the world but nothing could compare to that a-and you save me. I’ve never really met someone who’s cared for other people so much … It made me start thinking,like  actually thinking about things and-”

As you looked up, you noticed he was looking past you. He had completely tuned out of your speech, and as you turned your head, you got a glimpse of what he was looking at. MJ was standing by the mantle of the fireplace, talking to some girl. 

You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was shattering. Peter reached out to grab your shoulder, “I’m so sorry. Keep going, please.”

You shook your head, a fake smile on your lips, “It’s fine. I have to do something. Thanks for coming!” You scurried off before he could utter another world. The moment you turned back, he was already gone and walking over to MJ. 

You crushed your cup, causing the liquid to spill out. 

You could kill MJ. She already broke Peter’s heart so why was he running back to her? Why couldn’t she let you have him? Why was everyone so hell-bent on destroying your happiness? Your thoughts were overwhelming and the only thing that seemed to keep them at bay was Brad’s special punch. 

+

You tossed your cup down, watching it fall three stories to the ground. Looking over, you wondered if you could survive the drop. As you lost your balance for a moment, you pressed your back against the roof, giggling. Your world was spinning so much. 

It was a wonder that you hadn’t fallen off from climbing up here in the first place. You took a deep breath and pulled out your phone. You scrolled through your contacts, your vision blurry, before recognizing the heart emojis attached to his name. 

You closed your eyes for a moment as you pressed the phone to your ear. You guessed he was in the middle of a conversation, the hint of laughter and joy in his voice, “Y/N? You’re calling me from your own party?”

His voice only reminded you of why you loved him in the first place. You hated the control he had over your every emotion. You hated how you craved him and he remained oblivious to it.

“I didn’t … I didn’t want to throw the party. I just wanted to see you. I wanted you to see me in this dress,” Your voice was solemn as you slurred into the phone. 

“I got that you had to tell me something but then you stormed off … You sound very drunk. Where are you exactly?”

You shook your head as if Peter could see you right now. You opened your eyes and the night sky was above you, “I try so hard … nothing ever works out the way I want.”

“You try so hard to do what? Where are you, Y/N?” You could hear him moving around, his feet shuffling, and the murmur of Pop music. 

You looked around, “On the roof … I needed fresh air.”

“On the roof? And you’re drunk?”

“I think …” Your voice trailed off, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m over everything. I was being crazy. I get so attached sometimes even though it hurts me-”

“Please don’t move, Y/N,  I’m going to help you down,” You sat up from your position which only made your head spin more. 

“Peter, just listen to me! You never listen to me,” You pouted, “You never see me. I have to accept that it’s never going to change. You’re gonna chase the girls who break your heart, not the ones willing to love you …. Peter? Peter?” You heard nothing from the other side. 

Before you even had time to be disappointed, Peter’s head peeked over the side of the roof, “How did you even get up here?” Peter groaned, lifting himself up. He was still a good twenty feet away from where you had wandered on the slanted roof. 

Peter actually came. He cared enough to talk to you in person. You’d been wrong about him. It caused you to grin but Peter’s face only held worry. Peter began to slide towards you, even taking a second to look over and see how far the drop was, “Give me your hand,” He ordered you as he moved closer. 

You proceeded to pull your feet from over the edge and try to stand up, “Just let me tell you how I feel-”

“Y/N,” He whisper shouted your name, attempting to not frazzle you, “Sit back down, please.”

“If I don’t tell you now then I’ll never get the chance!” You slurred, trying not to stumble.

“You’re going to kill yourself, please sit back down,” Peter said back, every step closer only caused you to step back. Peter stopped, subtly trying to equip his web-shooters.

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not mine-” A shriek left your lips as you finally stepped the wrong way and you fell over the edge. You waited for the impact but the jolt you felt was not from the pavement. You were spinning and, as you looked up, a web was connecting you to Peter. 

Peter let out a heavy sigh as he pulled you up. He carried you back to the balcony. The two of you didn’t stay upright for long because your knees gave out and Peter caught you with his arms. He softly brought you to the ground and you stared up into those brown eyes with admiration. 

He saved you. 

You reached up to touch his cheek, “Y-You love me?”

“Jesus,” Peter shook his head, “What?”

Suddenly, you were sober. 

You noticed a crowd had gathered around the two of you. You looked like a disaster, your dress riding high, and your mascara running down your face. Peter pulled your hand away, an exhausted look on his face. He stood up before saying, “Can someone get her some water? And find her somewhere to sleep?” That was all he said before he left the balcony. 

This was different than any other rejection you had ever felt. 

+

“Darling, it’s the ninth day you haven’t gone to school.”

You didn’t look up from your desk as your father entered your room. You were still typing at your computer, writing a scientific article for your organic chemistry class. You were still typing away as you felt a hand on your shoulder. It caused you to pause as your lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I’m getting my work done,” You said to him, still not willing to look at him. You weren’t going to school and you were using your work to distract you from the fact that you asked Peter Parker if he loved you in front of a bunch of people. Not to mention that you drunkenly fell off your own roof. 

Peter hadn’t attempted to contact you, and judging by the talk you heard online, you were officially psychotic in everyone’s minds. 

Your father set a white box on your desk and you immediately recognized the log. DONATELLI”S PASTRIES. You opened the box to find your favorite, a red velvet cupcake, “Thank you,” You said, your mood threatening to improve. 

Your father sure did know how to buy your affection. 

He sighed before saying, “I hate to see that boy breaking my little girl’s heart. First, he threatens my business, a goddamn child is getting my partners arrested, and now this. I preferred it when he was fighting aliens.”

Your fist clenched tightly as you listened, “Superheros think they can do whatever they want.”

Your father agreed, “I really came in here to propose an idea to you,” You perked up at that, “What if I told you I could take care of your spider-boy problem?”

“How?”

“It’s a matter of keeping him distracted long enough to strike. Putting civilian lives on the line seems to do it for him. Besides that, I’ve come into a very valuable resource that will keep him sedated long enough to toss him into the Hudson and makes sure he sinks to the bottom.”

You thought for a long moment, “I don’t want you to kill him, Dad.”

Your father cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow raised, “You know you collect things … Mr. Medina’s left pinky … that police officer’s badge,” Your father was well aware of what he did with his enemies but he had not expected his daughter to take after him, “I want to add him to my collection.”

“I see,” Your father nodded, “Then it’s done. Anything for my little girl.”

A spider for your collection. 

You smiled wickedly. 

+

It was a screaming bus of children. That’s what landed Spiderman in the clutches of Mr. Shum. Luckily, they had survived but Peter wasn’t sure if he would. His face was dripping with blood and the bullet wound to his abdomen didn’t look to be healing anytime soon. 

Peter hung from the ceiling by his wrist, the chains he suspected were made of vibranium or at least a knock off version of it. His spidey sense was completely off and his swollen eyes didn’t even allow him to see the punches as they came. 

Peter fought as hard as he could but the darkness eventually consumed him. 

He awoke to the feeling of warmth being pressed to his skin. As his eyes slowly opened, he found a smiling you hovering over you. Immediately Peter jolted up but was pulled back by chains attached to the bedpost. As he attempted to move his legs, he felt the same thing. 

You shushed him, “Hey, calm down, you’re going to tear your stitches,” You whispered, dabbing the wet cloth against his face. Peter flinched at your touch but you kept it up. You were straddling his waist and as Peter looked down he realized he was completely naked, “I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon-”

“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” Peter’s voice was tired, desperate, his face starting to turn red, “Where are my clothes?”

“I had to give you a bath, it’s been days since you passed out,” You told him and it frightened Peter how calm you were, “I’m not like my father, I’m going to take care of you. He just had to show you what would happen if you tried to hurt me.”

Peter watched as you hinted at his bandaged abdomen, “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” You grinned, running your hands over his muscular chest. You assumed right. His body was completely perfect and now it was all yours.

“Don’t say that,” Peter winced.

You leaned down closer to his face, “I’ve loved you for a long time, Peter.”

“Don’t say that!” Peter started pulling at the chain again which only led you to press your fingers, hard into the bandage on his abdomen. The boy cried out in pain and it broke your heart. 

“Why don’t you love me too?” You asked, starting to grow frustrated, “I love you so much but you don’t even care! Why can’t you just love me back?”

“Because that’s crazy!” He shouted back, “We’re only friends and kidnapping me is not going to change that!”

“Kidnap?” You questioned, shaking your hand, “You are my one and only love, Peter. How can it be kidnapping if I must be with you? If I must have you as my soulmate?”

“Y/N, please. My family and this city needs me-”

“And MJ needs you?” You pressed your hand against his chest, staring him down, “Huh? The girl who rejects you and yet you chase her while I’m here willing to love you. If only you loved me back-”

“Y/N,” Peter tried to calm himself and ration with you, “If you just let me go, we could make this work. You’re right, I’ve been blind. I’ve been chasing MJ when I should’ve been chasing you.”

Your shoulders slumped and your eyes seemed to lighten as you heard his words, “You mean it?” 

Peter nodded eagerly, “Y-Yes, and we could go on a date together. We could get to know each other more,” You were nodding now, the idea of it sounding completely magical. This was all you ever wanted, “If you undo the chains, we could do that.”

Your mouth quickly turned to a frown and you sighed. Peter watched as you went still, “I can’t risk it. You’ve shown me time and time again that you don’t know what’s good for you,” Peter shook his head, the fear starting to settle in as your hands rubbed up and down his chest. Peter continued to flinch as they moved lower, towards the area between his legs, “You’ll have to learn to love me, Peter.”

“S-Stop,” Peter begged as you finger traced along his length. Like the teenage boy you knew he was, he easily started to grow hard beneath your grasp. 

“I’m not one of those girls who thinks you should save your virginity for marriage. I think you should wait until you meet the right person,” You palmed his cock in your hand, feeling it getting harder. You watched as he pulled at his chains and his face contorted into different expressions of disgust and desperation, “And you’re my person, Peter.”

You licked your palm, lubricating it before placing it back on his cock. You pulled and tugged, pumping up and down. You smirked as moans threatened to escape those pink lips. You leaned down and, as Peter turned his head, you placed kisses along his jaw. 

“Y/N, please…” He begged. 

“Please keep going? Please show your love for me by milking me dry?” He shook his head and you grinned, “My hearts been a toy for you all these years, perhaps now you'll understand what it is to be someone’s toy.”

You moved down Peter’s body, planting kisses and hickies before your mouth reached the member between his legs. Peter lifted his head, watching, “Okay, okay, I understand! Don’t please!” You felt his legs thrash as your tongue licked his pink tip. 

You held onto his muscular legs as your tongue swirled around his tip. Peter’s head flew back in ecstasy as you took him further into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue still swirling. 

His deep groans effectively soaked the area between your legs and you loved how they turned to whimpering and pleading. Peter lasted longer than you expected but it wasn't long before his body contorted and warm liquid sprayed down your throat and into your mouth. As you removed your mouth, you continued to pump his softening cock which caused him to thrash around even more from the over stimulation.

You swallowed what was left in his mouth and began to kiss up his body. His eyes gave a look of defeat, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell you how much you liked it,” You said as you kissed his neck, “Baby steps, right?”

You laid down beside him, basking in his warmth. Now you weren’t just the awkward daughter of the famous Mr. Shum. You loved somebody and that somebody was going to love you. 

You deserved that love.

+

hope you enjoyed this!

[stevenbasic]

Looking at the IG of one of the new applicants, Dr J thinks: What's this one's story?

About a year ago, huh..?

...

The reunion was in full swing, and Angie sipped the straw of her vodka tonic, alone for the moment at the edge of the crowd, watching him. She’d come into the evening like she did into most crowds: thinking she was the smartest person in the room. True, it’s not like she’d ended up top of her class - it’d been ten years since graduating from Middlesex High with these morons - or had found herself at a top-tier college. She totally could have, she always thought, if she had really wanted to. She just never put in the effort, it hadn’t meant enough to her. But she could have been valedictorian, for sure, right? And gone to an ivy-league? She just never set her mind to it, she told herself. Plus, back then, she didn’t have the tits...

Angie Wade was, certainly, what most people would call a “late bloomer”. Not only had her academic and career successes mainly come after her teen years in High School - she’d graduated with Honors from Bowling Green, got her Masters, and now managed two (soon to be three) branches of KLG Bank - but her figure had taken some time to come in, also. When she had graduated, she had been a mostly forgettable member of the drama club, the thin, unremarkable brunette with the big forehead. But, soon, things changed. Since high school she’d put on - haha - nearly thirty pounds, the majority of it generously deposited into the fleshy curves she’d squeezed into this low-cut black top and tight, tight knee-length white skirt. She wanted these people - him especially - to see what had become of Angie Wade, to realize what they had missed. And, the evening had gone predictably. Most of the girls, even some she’d been friendly with in school, either wanted nothing to do with her or treated her with snobby derision - fuck them. Because every guy she’d spoken to tonight had been very keen to chat. Most had given her at least a fleeting glance down her top, and many could barely keep from staring. But she hadn’t talked to AJ Shaw yet....

...and he was right over there.

...

AJ stood at the banquet hall’s bar, idly stirring his bacardi and coke, while Megan Rommety chatted animatedly in his left ear. He’d learned, among a prattling twenty minutes’ worth of other things, that she was a recent divorcee (“her decision”, to hear her tell it) She was trying to flirt with him, he had no doubt.  He had been excited about coming to this thing, the 10-year reunion for his Middlesex High School Class. He still hung out, pretty regularly, with some friends from the football team; he’d even hired a couple to work on his construction team. He still touched base with old girlfriends from time-to-time, Facebook or wherever; it was cool to see them with kids and flirt with them behind their husbands’ backs. But maybe there’d be some people from out of town to catch up with. Like Megan here: they’d been in a couple classes together, she’d dated a friend of his, been on the tennis team. She was nice to see, for the first few minutes, but now she was beginning to overstay her welcome in the seat next to him. “...anyway, after I kicked Brad out, I sold the house and bought my own condo down by the lake,” Megan was saying, stirring the ice cube in her chardonnay, “sooooo nice. Real hardwood floors, a view. You just have to come see it! In fact, kids are at my mom’s tonight and…” WHoahhh...Who was THAT?

“Yeah, I uh….” he said Wearing a black, low-cut top that revealed an impressive bulge of soft, creamy cleavage, she was smiling over at him, from across the room. In fact, “smile” might have been too soft of a word. There was something dramatic about the look she was giving him, something….yikes. His stomach fluttered and everything Megan was saying was being droned out, dissolving to just a buzz on his left. Taking a sip of her drink, this woman held his eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, before she began to strut over towards him. My god, AJ thought, that is a strut. Straight back and proud, each step in her killer heels brought a new jiggle to her chest and an extra sway to her hips in her tight, white skirt. This was a woman who knew how to walk, he could see that for sure, and draw eyes to herself. Was this someone from his class?? He had forgotten that he was in the middle of a sentence, a conversation. Hell, he practically forgot where he was. He’d kinda found that happening, recently. Pretty women seemed to throw him off base more easily than they used to. Ones with boobs, especially. “Hiya, remember me?” she said, sidling up to the bar and unceremoniously boxing Megan out. He tried to keep his eyes up, on her face, on her wide, wide smile. He knew he would look like an asshole if his eyes dropped to her tits….but it was a struggle. “I…uh” he began, as his mind began to work. He was usually so good at this! He felt like he knew everybody from his class, or at least everyone important. Especially the hot ones! But he was having trouble remembering this one, her name. Her face was sorta familiar, but he certainly didn’t recognize those curves from high school. “Uhmmmm…”

“Angie Wade?”  Megan interjected, from half-behind the newcomer.

Oh yeah, Angela Wade.

“Angie Wade?” AJ finally managed, lights beginning to click on, “You were in drama club, right?” “That’s me!” Angie beamed, biting her lower lip flirtatiously, “You DO remember me!” He...he did remember her, yes, Angie. But certainly not like this. The Angie Wade he remembered had been...skinny. Maybe not quite a dork, but not someone with whom he’d ever associate. If he recalled, his friends had told him she’d been an admirer of his. God, if he’d known she’d grow up into this...wow, she really grew a pair. “Excuse me,” Megan piped in, pushing her short, coiffed-blonde hair behind her ear, “We...were in the middle of a conversation?” Obviously annoyed, Megan could see how AJ’s attention had suddenly been drawn to Angie Wade and her big new tits. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Angie responded, not bothering to hide a note of condescension. She shifted to unblock Megan from the conversation, a move that just brought her closer to AJ’s left side, and in fact let her press her big right breast into his left arm. She felt him shudder, almost imperceptibly, but tried to keep her smile to herself.

Angie glanced Megan up and down with a coy smirk before turning back to AJ. “So...Nice suit! You look great,” she said, knowing men’s weaknesses for flattery, “Seems like you’re doing well?” “Um, yeah! Thanks!,” AJ replied, wincing as he heard the weird enthusiasm in his voice. He can’t come across as creepy, just talking to this girl ‘cuz she’s built. He knew he had to maintain himself, his composure. “I’ve been good,” he continued, “Staying busy with work and-” Angie cut him off. “Yeah, I saw that your company has a bid in to renovate the stadium downtown,” she said, letting her eyes sparkle in admiration. Men loved that. “That’s soooo great…” They also loved this bimbo talk, she’d learned. “Yeah well, it’s um… an exciting project,” He finished lamely, glancing over at Megan, whose glare had gone icy. What was he doing? This was rude. He should try to involve Megan some more, but found himself just really not wanting to. “But enough about me,” he said to Angie, admiring the dramatically dark makeup around her eyes, “How are you doing?” “I’m doing SO, SO good!” Angie sang, right hand reaching behind AJ’s back, resting on a shoulder. Megan scoffed, watching as her left hand then found his knee. What a tramp. “‘So so good’?” Megan finally snapped, the derision in her voice unmistakable, “Last I heard you were working at Hooters. Brad said he saw you th-” “Oh, did he? Brad, your husband?” Angie smiled, turning finally to address Megan, smile big and white.

“Ex...husband…” Megan said, voice quickly fading.

“Hm. Well, did Brad mention that he used to come in every Tuesday and Thursday for lunch, with guys from work, or sometimes just by himself?” Angie continued, a new edge to her voice, “And when I moved to just weekends, he started showing up then, too?” She smiled as she saw Megan’s eyes go wide. She loved doing this shit to prissy bitches like Megan, when they thought they could flex. “Did Brad tell you that he always asked to be sat in my section, and when I finally left he’d asked the other girls about me? Where I went? Asked for my number?”

Megan’s jaw had started to quiver, and Angie had to keep herself from laughing. She remembered Brad, though it had been awhile. Guys from their old high school had often come to Hooters to drool, whether it was over her or younger girls like Shanette or Missy. Brad had been no different. “I guess he just saw something he liked…. “ Angie concluded, straightening her shoulders and pushing her boobs forward - which drew a glance from AJ, she noticed. “Maybe something he didn’t have at home?” “Holy shit y-you bitch,” Megan sputtered, doing her best to sound appalled but glancing down at her own modest bust, unable to keep from feeling a little inadequate. Yes, Brad had been “a boob guy”... Ignoring the insult with practiced aplomb, Angie turned back to AJ, catching him looking down her top. “Besides, you don’t mind...do you AJ?” she asked him, squeezing her right breast more firmly into his nicely-muscled arm, rubbing his broad shoulder through his suit jacket, “That I used to work at Hooters?” “Um, uh, what?” he stammered, uncomfortable with the tense exchange that had just happened between these two girls, feeling weird that he’d just sat here, passively. How was he supposed to answer this? “No...not at all,” he managed, “I think, uh, service work is perfectly dignified…” “See?” Angie giggled, still rubbing his shoulder and rewarding him with an extra bit of boob, “Good boy.”  Angie giggled again, so pleased with herself. Megan, for herself, looked aghast, watching AJ - who she always thought was a pretty well-put-together guy - fall for this bimbo’s simple little tricks. God, what a pair of tits can do... “I…” “..was just leaving” Angie finished for her, fixing her with a bright white smile and withering stare. She watched as Megan took her drink and stood from her stool. “You gonna go call Brad?” she added, for good measure, “Tell him Angie from Hooters said hello.” “Tell him yourself,” Megan sneered, and then turned to him, “And, AJ, nice talking to you. Have fun with the Titty Monster.” With that she stomped off, and Angie’s smile curled.

“‘Titty Monster’”, Angie repeated, chuckling to herself, “That’s rich. I think I’ll use that.” She bit her lip, narrowed her eyes. “So….” she began, turning all her attention back on AJ, her high school crush. She almost couldn’t believe it herself: here she was, little Angie Wade, proudly claiming Aaron Joseph Shaw for herself, just because she could. It was like wrapping him around her little finger. “Can I have a seat?” “Oh, uh, yeah,” AJ replied, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t even said goodbye to Megan. “Of course…”

AJ half-stood, chivalrously, as if to help Angie up into Megan’s now-empty chair. He sat back, finally, and began to order them both a drink from the bartender with the dramatic mustache.

“Two vodka tonics, please,” Angie had insisted, speaking over him with a will that made his loins clinch.

From there, the flirting began in earnest, disguised by a conversation about their jobs. Angie avoided divulging too much about her situation, her successes at the bank. She knew the male ego could be a fragile thing, and she didn’t want to scare him away. AJ seemed to be a successful guy himself, in his own way, but boys tended to like their girls dumb, and she could play that up a bit when she needed to. So, no mention of the degrees, no mention of the awards. Instead, she had leaned forward towards him just enough to open her cleavage for his approval. 

God, she has great tits, he thought to himself, marveling at their swell and mass, and I’m really getting to be a tit-guy these days. His eyes just could not keep themselves from falling down her top, and she seemed not to mind in the least. In fact, after their second drink together, her hand had found its way back to his knee and seemed to give him an encouraging squeeze every time his gaze strayed to her chest. She...she actually likes that I’m looking at her tits, he finally convinced himself, and had slowly started to relax.

After another drink, Angie finally sat up, stock straight, and slowly stretched her shoulders back to look around the room. Some of their old classmates had begun to leave, and the room was less abuzz than it had been. Predictably, his eyes had gone straight to her chest, and shot away before she met his gaze again. She waited for him to talk, knowing exactly what he wanted.

“So, it looks like things are starting to quiet down here,” he finally asked, “do you, uh, need a ride?”

Bingo. “No, I drove myself,” she answered, watching his face, seeing the old gears turning. 

“Well, I was thinking about, y’know,” he began again, poking at the remaining ice in his drink,  “heading back to my loft, downtown, if you wanted to, like, come with me…?” Angie smiled, and leaned in towards him, squeezing her arms together in a dramatic show of cleavage. “Hmmm, well,” she purred, watching his eyes struggle to maintain her gaze, “how about you come to my place tonight sweetie. It’s closer....” 

At that, she leaned in to his ear, and whispered into it with a voice thick with seduction. “And I still have my Hooters outfit at home. I can try it on for you….see if it still fits?” 

============================================

Angie attacks! A little GITJ tangent thread being co-written with AgeoftheGiantess, who you may know from GTScity. Look for her story to continue.

Next post, our first entry by new contributor Joyce Julep, available at my Patreon

[the-firebird69]

Moto Saver!!!

He's really doing this back then and it's a massively powerful bike no it's aerodynamics and it's his idea and the thinner tire worked it's hard to control but at speed it works pretty good until you reach a certain speed but they weren't going that fast he's much faster than they were and he knew it he did that many races he finally asked him to stop showing up he said why because I'm winning that's really a bunch of losers you have races that aren't racist it's open class who can't ask me not to show up and they said we really want you not to show up so he said what if someone came up with competition what then I said we'll see you when that happens so Brad called up and he says I have a bike like yours and I want to compete and so they kick me out and I said no I found something to do with it so he calls up and that says I'm like him and I am fast and said good so they showed up at the same race and they raced and they're not talking about native Americans no they are and they were talking about riding us they think that's what they're doing and they don't know where we are but anyways Mac is still one but he came in like second and it's an Open class and you can put a bigger motor since then for Brad to put bigger tires in a bigger motor and to scooch down like that and he is and he goes way back so he laid down on it and he put some Patty and Max side and said no way and he made a special cow and they started racing back and forth and the bigger tires started to win couple races as it where is this coming from is coming from the future apparently says yeah and we're mentioning it the Yankee foust of Jonathan Moulton is upset I guess I said you're going to miss Tron and it's his futuristic problem we're having with the Mac proper and he says he's going to be there and he's really over the top and needs to be rained in and he just refuses to be but I guess that's what wild horses are all about so they smiled and says you're actually right so they raised for a while and they won and other people started doing it and the tires weren't that big but he he said I can handle it better and he lowered it the thing was enormously fast Matt tried the same thing and said I can beat him hands down and he just doesn't have the guts for it he said he's not that old and he doesn't know what happens and so he said this is true but then he said he's old but really doesn't know so they're racing and they loved it and he gave Indian a Hallmark name this is what do I do about it I said you can try a fatter tires and smaller Wheels believe it or not wouldn't hurt but like look like they they like this big the tires with the other ones like that so he did it and he said what the hell is this I'm going much faster so you're low to the ground anyway no way so he's flying and I mean flying into and wouldn't hurt to put a little teeny visor he did that and the thing started taking off is after the Indian and he said I can't even release this and he is going like about 300 miles an hour and said yeah you probably shouldn't but he had his guys with them and they're flying around the road and then you go faster than that and he knew the secret but he saw yours he went no way he saw the v he said what is that contraption heard you and he got down low on it and move things around and he went about 500 miles an hour and he said you got to be kidding this guy is going to kick our ass and we are and nobody knows it though

Thor Freya

Olympus

[sweatpeeee]

Love potion AU (part2)

yo yo yo yo yooooooooo

wassup guys, I FINALLY have part 2 ready!!!!! It only took me forever. but yeah! I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the love and support btw! thank you so much for 114 followers!!! genuinely so amazing! anyways with no further adieu, her is part 2 (hey that rhymed lmao)

Warnings: swearing, passing out, Peter being petty, Brad being concerned. and i think that’s it! LMK if I missed anything! :)

  It seemed the peter couldn’t suppress the giddy smile on his face, the boy basically skipping down the hallway with a tiny glass vial closed off with corkscrew twirling between his fingers. The substance glowed blue, but only when it was stirred did the liquid radiate. Peter felt his heart race at the thought of having MJ in his arms finally noticing and loving him the way he’s always dreamed. He imagined walking down the hall with his hand in Michelles as she leaned her on his shoulder, Peter’s ears burned red at these intrusive innocent thoughts that crossed his mind. His pace was fast to his locker, too excited at the power that the little container held. 

“What is that?” Peter felt his soul leave his body at the sudden question from his best friend who was breathing down his neck. Peter spun around gasping and clutching his chest.

“Ah! Ned! What the Hell?!?” Slowly feeling his body untense, his breathing still rapid. 

“What is that” Ned asked again nonchalantly as if he didn’t almost give his best friend a heart attack. 

“Oh, uh… it’s- you know... it’s web fluid-” Of course, Peter’s best friend knew he was lying-not mentioning that peter’s voice goes up six octaves when he lies. 

“You seem to forget that I am your best friend and that I have actually seen what your web fluid really looks like.” The boy with a bucket hat lifted up his brow unamused. 

“God, Fine I’ll tell you- but you have to promise me you wont get mad at me or tell anyone.” Peter whispered while leaning towards his friend. Ned leaned closer too, slightly giddy. 

“It’s a love potion-” The boy mutters, Ned shoots his head up, beyond shocked. 

“ No, No, no, no. I am NAWT letting you do that- nope-” The outburst caused many students to cast their gaze at the two boys, muttering a few insults that the bucket hat boy didn’t seem to pay attention to. 

“Ned, would you shut up??? Just listen-” Peters hands were waving around trying to get his friend to quiet down, “And you promised you wouldn’t get mad!-” 

“No! I am mad!  Because it’s about time I tell you how INSANE you sound!-” Ned began to whisper aggressively with teeth clenched shut, “I mean you cannot be serious! That's genuinely horrible, Peter and I’m deadass disappointed in you-” 

“What’s horrible?” The sudden quiet and soft voice broke their bickering- both boys froze with wide eyes and turned  towards you. Your books clutched to your chest, your fingers picking at your already damaged binder.

“Y/n! Hey! Uh… when did you get here?” Peter’s hand whipped behind his back to hide the substance that would help with his goal to win over a girls heart. 

“Um.. A few minutes ago- what were you guys talking about?” You sensed they were hiding something but couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You simply gave them a confused glance. Ned’s smile was strained but sweet nonetheless, peter sweating buckets next to him. 

“N-Nothing! Nope, nothing at all- just how… uh,” Ned glanced at Peter for any sort of help, the brunette shrugged helplessly, “Just how- how dumb-” Ned lands a pinch to Peter’s forearm- resulting in a wince and yelp from the boy, “-Peter is for not consulting with us about a…. OH- A movie night without us!” Ned grumbled between his clenched yet smiling state, “Right Pete?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course! Caught me ha ha… um yeah I just wanted to surprise you guys- you know what they say…. Surprises never come often!” He clears his throat… His palm sweaty from your perplexed gaze. 

“God, I forget how absolutely weird you guys are. Whatever- uh movie sounds great but I think I won't be able to make it-” You began backing up to head to your first period, unwilling to be around the boy you swooned over. It’s probably best you stayed away to avoid heartbreak. Plus, he was most likely going to invite MJ and you weren’t in the mood to see your crush drool over your best friend, that was until a figure placed their arm around your shoulders. 

“I think she means she can’t wait to have a movie night!” Speak of the devil. MJ dragged you back to the two boys who were still trying to act casual. 

“MJ, please- I really-” You muttered until the curly haired girl cut you off, 

“No, y/n- you can’t bail and expect things to stop being difficult- come on.” She muttered back, “so who’s house?” she smirked. You glanced at Peter, already becoming a flushed mess, his mouth tripping over his own tongue. 

“W-we can go to- to uh- to mine… if you guys want..-” You would’ve thought that stutter was adorable if only the reason wasn’t for your best friend's presence that was making him blush. 

“Cool. 8pm, no later.” and with that, she spins around and heads to class right as the bell rings.    

Y/n felt uneasy the rest of the day- feeling her stomach drop at the sheer thought of going to the movie night just to watch Peter drool over her best friend. 

As the final bell of the day rang, y/n gathered her things and headed to her locker in a hurry- in hopes to avoid her group of friends. She shuts her locker and spins towards the exit, only to run into someone- felt like a brick wall honestly. Looking up to meet the tall figures' eyes to apologize, your eyes widen. 

“Hey, Y/n!” The boy smirked looking down at you, showing his bright clean teeth.

“Oh, Brad- I’m so sorry I wasn’t even aware-”

“No! You’re all good! It was my fault I should’ve warned you or something-” Brad laughed, his eyes crinkling on the edges. You had to admit that Brad was very attractive. He has a strong build and was very kind, he always seemed to be very happy to be around you. Lately Brad has been hanging out with you during lunch or in between classes, He even offered to become your year long chemistry partner. You would even go as far as consider Brad a friend. 

“Well, sorry anyway” You looked down at your shoes before forcing yourself to look up at your eyes, “uh, how can I help you?” You couldn’t help but blush at his intense gaze. 

“Well, I swear I had it at the tip of my tongue but I seemed…” He smirked as he leaned his hand on the locker next to your head- you felt yourself shrink under him, “- to get lost in those beautiful y/e/c eyes of yours. I must’ve forgotten what I was trying to tell you.” your cheeks and ears burned red. 

“Oh god- Brad stop that-” You giggled as you ducked under his arm to walk towards the school doors. Brad followed with an easy strut, of course it didn’t take much to catch up to you- The dude was tall as hell. 

Brad let out a hearty laugh, now walking next to you, “now, you know I’m just teasing you y/n- I love the way you get all hot and bothered when I compliment you.” You just shook your head with a grin adorning your features, “Hey, is it ok if I walk you home?” You look up at the kind boy, happy at the idea that at least someone wants to be around you voluntarily.

“I mean-” right then you feel an arm drape over my shoulder and interrupt your conversation. 

“Hey, Brad! How’s it going dude,” MJ lets go of you for a second and gives him a bro hug. 

“Hey MJ, it’s going pretty good- Just chatting with this cutie. Wondering if I could walk her home today.” He flashed you a grin accompanied with a wink. Your face hot as you avoided MJ’s growing smirk. 

“Hey, you can walk with us- were all having a movie night at Peter’s if you want to come along?” Brad’s face seemed to light up at the suggestion, 

“Woah, hey seriously? That’d be awesome! Well, if it’s cool with you guys? You sure Peter won’t mind?” his brows furrowed in worry. 

“Of course not! Pete’s a chill dude, he won’t care at all.” 

----

“Can someone explain to me why the hell Brad Davis is walking behind us with our y/n?” Peter couldn’t keep the venomous words from leaving his mouth the second they were far enough from the pair behind them. 

MJ chuckled at his frustration as Ned watched with curious eyes as to why his friend was so pressed. 

“Would you relax, he just wants to be near Y/n because he likes her.” MJ bumps Peter in the shoulder with her own, making him stumble a bit with a grunt. 

“Ok but why y/n?” He mumbles

“Woah-” Ned gasps in shock to Peter’s words

“No, no- I didn’t mean-” 

“Peter, you have no right saying what y/n can and cannot do and in who she talks to.” MJ could’ve caused physical pain to that boy with the glare she was giving him. Peter grumbled to himself- knowing his crush was right. The thought of y/n and Brad flirting didn’t sit well with him. 

“Wait- so Brad is having a movie night with us?” Ned peered behind them to see Brad poking his finger towards y/n’s side making her burst in giggles and attempt to push Brad's fingers away.

“No” 

“Yes” 

 MJ and Peter share a glance. The curly haired brunette squints, “what was that, Peter?” Challenging him to repeat his statement. 

“God, fine.” It comes out as a Scoff. He just wanted to get home so he could set his plan in motion. He could already tell MJ was beginning to grow annoyed with him already. 

——

“Shh- Brad, you c-can’t say stuff like that!” Your sweet laughter started to get on Peter’s nerves. His knuckles white as he unlocks the door and pushes in. 

What the hell is so funny? Of course this plan is going to be ruined with them constantly giggling and flirting- 

“Yo- Pete! Is it chill if I use your bathroom?” Brad's voice reaches Peter as he slings his backpack next to the door, just the thought of Brad staying at his apartment, eating his snacks and flirting with his y/n- he stops himself, he must be getting too protective over his friends. 

“It’s fine-“ he mutters before hearing a door close in the direction of his bathroom, Peter crouches to the movie cabinet, scanning every CD for hopefully a star wars movie, “finally some peace and quiet around here-“ 

“You ok Pete?” Your soft voice startled him- his head spins to his right- meeting your soft gaze. 

“Y-yeah it’s all good.” Hoping she didn’t hear his relief of Brad's absence. 

“Are you sure? You seem really tense,” Peter couldn’t find an excuse, looking around for one until his eyes landed on MJ laughing about something with Ned. Y/n noticed, “oh… is it because of MJ?” Her mood drained, all that talking with Brad distracted her from why she really didn’t want to go over for movie night. 

MJ…. 

That has to be it- yeah, that’s why he’s irritated. He doesn’t want things to go wrong with MJ. 

He nods slightly. Y/n lips part, words she’s been itching to say about to leave her mouth before- 

“Hey, y/n! Check out this puppy wearing a lion costume!” Brad was holding up his phone in your direction. You glanced back then smiled at Peter and turned towards Brad. You smiled as the video played, a little smiling pout rested on your lips, Brad gazed at you- one would call them heart eyes, Peter would call it disgusting. Brad looked at Peter and winked. 

God this guy is insufferable. 

———-

30 minutes into Back to Future, Peter unwillingly agreed to watch after a stern glare from Ned, and Brad was quite cuddled up to y/n. Peter had no idea why he was acting the way he was, he just didn’t trust Brad to take care of her and treat her right, he seemed like a player to Peter. Peter shook the negative thoughts out of his head before deciding that he should now start setting his plan into motion. 

“Anyone want a drink?” Peter stood, straightening out his jeans. 

“Yeah I’d like one,” Brad nodded, still watching TV, then shifted his eye’s to Y/n, “ What about you, Y/n?” You looked up at Brad and smiled, a small nod. Peter could all but roll his eyes. 

“Ned? MJ?” His eyes silently pleading that his crush says yes. Ned nods, MJ contemplates then shrugs.  

Peter nearly runs to the kitchen, pulling out the glowing vile from his pocket. Setting out 4 cups, pouring in some kool-aid he made earlier in the morning. Slowly he lifts the pitcher, filling 3 cups generously except for the fourth one. He pops open the tube with the chemical, remembering distinctly what Mr. Strange had told him. 

Absolutely no more than 3 drops. Any more than 3 drops and we’ll have some serious problems. Do I make myself clear? 

“Just 3. No more than 3, you got this Peter.” Peter focused intently on the tube, watching as the liquid dripped…

One…

Two…

Thre-

“Yo! Peter! You good with those drinks?” 

Four-five-six….

Peter could’ve screamed. He could’ve ripped his hair out. But there he stood with his jaw on the floor, with a cup full of, not 3 but 6, drops of the enchantment. Brad came strolling in, grabbing the infected drink and a clean one- 

“WAIT BRAD- DONT!” Peter nearly trampled the guy- making Brad jolt and spill some of the drink in his shirt. 

“Jesus Peter! What the hell is your problem??” Brad set the cups down on the small table in the living room with the girls as he made his way to the restroom. 

“What happened?” MJ was about to get out of her seat to check out the noise. 

“N-nothing! Nothing!” Peter peered at his friends, meeting with concerned eyes, ”It’s all good! Brad just uh- he spilled some of the drink on his shirt- Hey Ned I need assistance-“ Peter spoke through his teeth, attempting to reassure the girls. Ned looked around confused as well as the two girls sharing perplexed glances. 

“Code Death Star” he harshly whispered- 

Bed shot up out of his seat and rushed with Peter to the kitchen. 

“What happened???” Ned whispers while he  avoided the puddle of kool aid on the floor. 

“Brad happened! I was just putting in the drops like Mr.Strange told me, then Brad scared me and 6 drops slipped in-“ 

“6 drops?!??” Ned was quickly muted by Peter's hand slapping over his mouth. 

“Shhh keep it down, dude-“ 

Ned rips Peter's hand off, “Dude we have no idea what that could do! What if she pukes for the rest of her life?? What if it does the exact opposite of making her like you?? What if she dies-“ 

“I don’t know what it could do! We just need to make sure that no one touches that drink!” Peter then sees from his peripheral vision, his spider senses going haywire, a Y/n stuck with a grimace on her face. 

A red cup in her hand. 

No… nonononononono- don’t tell me-

“ No offense Peter, but this shits disgusting- tastes like medicine if you ask me.” You gag lightly, “god- it’s got a horrible aftertaste too- I swear you’re out to kill me Peter” you giggle. Walking past them and throwing out the cup. 

Peter found this anything but funny- Neds eyes went wide- absolute shock ran through both of the boys. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” You began rubbing your cheeks and your lips. The boys staying stoic, “guys…?” You began getting worried.

“H-how much did you drink?” Peter's voice is 6 octaves higher, taking slow cautious steps towards you.

“I- I chugged it-“ Peter then grips your wrist and as if the whole world stopped, you could only see Peter. Your feelings increase ten fold. suddenly you feel absolutely dizzy. Your legs tremble at the sheer touch of his hand on your wrist, he’s tugging you towards his room and your head keeps spinning, you place your hand onto the wall for balance before being dragged once again. Your blurry vision sees Brad barely exit the restroom wiping his shirt- then glancing at you- eyebrows furrowed.

You shut your eyes tightly, hoping it helps with your focus, blinking rapidly. Your body grows hot- like you’re running a fever, but your feet and hands are freezing. You can hardly hear anything as Peter's distant voice soothes you, probably telling you to sit on his bed. You started falling into a state of drowsy sleep despite his voice sounding distressed.

 You pass out. 

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!” Peter was Whimpering and shaking your shoulders, pulling your eyelids open only to see the white of your eyes, iris rolled back, “oh god, please wake up Y/n! I need you awake!” Peter's heart was in absolute anguish, he felt a deep hole in his chest, he couldn’t breath. 

Panic attack. 

Ok, ok fuck- Ohmygod is she dead??? This was a mistake, god what the fuck did I do??? Fuck fuck fuck ok ok you need to calm down- what the hell am I having a panic attack right now??? ok ok 3 things- what can I see? Uh ok ok…. 

Peter glanced down at your unconscious body and started taking deep breaths. 

Ok ok I can see y/n’s…. smooth skin- uh I can… I can- I can see her favorite hair tie, I can see uh… her star wars shirt… ok good ok uh 3 things I can feel- 

He grasped her limp hand. His breaths are already regulating. 

I can feel her hand- a-and her pulse! Oh thank god I can feel her pulse….her bracelet. 

Ok and I can hear her breathing! I can hear cars outside, I can hear the movie from the living room. 

His heart rate goes down significantly. He’s at ease now. Ned barges in, startling Peter. About to speak before his eyes stop dead on an unconscious girl on Peter's bed. 

“Is she dead?!?” 

“No! No she’s ok! She’s just passed out!” Peter couldn’t bring himself to move from you- your hand still grasped tightly in his. He felt absolutely horrible, he’d never forgive himself for this. He only prayed that you woke up soon. 

“What’s going on?'' Brad's voice in the hallway, Peter runs to his door, holding it close to his body to stop Brad from looking inside. 

“Nothing Brad, mind your business-“ 

“No Peter! I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but all I know is that you’re a sketchy little dude with some serious problems- Now I saw y/n and she didn’t look well- let me see her.” Brad attempted pushing open the door but Peter kept his grip on the door. His spider strength came quite in handy. 

“She's fine dude- she wasn’t feeling well so I took her to my room so she could rest!” Brad only glared down at Peter. His deathly stare was nearly intimidating but Peter wouldn’t cave,” I think you should go home.” Peter didn’t even try to hide the venomous tone this time. Brad was really getting on his nerves. 

“You’re up to something. Hiding things. And I’m sure that whatever it is you’re hiding,” Brad nods his head, signaling to you behind Peter, “you don’t want her finding out.” Brad slowly walks backwards, eyes never leaving Peter, “I’m on to you, Parker.” And with that Brad turned around and left the apartment, slamming the door. 

He sighed in relief, turning around to his best friend. 

“So now what?” 

————————————————————

aaaannnnnnnndddddd THAT’S part 2 errybody! Thanks for the love and support and I’ll do my best to get part 3 up sooner! 

taglist: @itscaminow @halparkebitch @missmulti @everyoneyoulovedies @le-yona @universeoffandoms @writeroutoftime @bluelida @yourbiggestspiderfan @marvel-moviesfan @zoerosethoughts @songbirdsingingthings @phrogtheguitarist @sophs-library @awesomebooklover17 @horanxholland @mystoragehatesme e @spideygirl2003

also lmk if the taglist is working :)

[ejzah]

Can you do a fanfic where while undercover Sam says very hurtful things to Deeks, only to learn that he meant every word when Deeks overhears him and the rest of the team talking in the boat shed once the case is done.

A/N: If you’re a Sam fan (I am one too), this might be one to avoid if you think it will upset you. That being said, I will try to keep this as in character as I can. Set some time in season 4, leading up to the finale.

It was a little difficult to come up with a scenario where Sam would be talking behind Deeks’ back about him. In the past he was usually pretty straightforward with his criticism or jokes at Deeks’ expense.

***

The Truth Beneath The Lies

Deeks accepted showed his badge-courtesy of Eric’s techy wizardry-to the officer currently manning the front desk of the Central Community Police Station.

“Detective Marty Deeks. I have a meeting with Captain Raynard,” Deeks told him.

“He’s expecting you. Third floor, First Office on your right.”

Deeks accepted the temporary pass the officer handed him and headed for the elevator. He was just about to step in when someone behind him called out,

“Deeks!” He turned around and found a man in street clothes heading towards him. After a second he recognized him as a cop he’d worked with in the robbery division before Deeks moved departments. “Marty Deeks!” The man repeated with a grin. “I knew I recognized that hair. Man, 4 years later and you still haven’t changed it.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Deeks just shrugged, and reached out to shake his hand.

“Hey Brad, how’s it going?”

“No complaints. I’m a detective, second class, plainclothes division and last year I got married,” he shared, glancing Deeks up and down. “What about you? I heard you got some fancy job with a federal agency.”

“Yeah, that didn’t really work out,” Deeks muttered. Brad gave Deeks a sympathetic shrug.

“Hey, it happens, man.”

“Yeah, well I’m supposed to check in with the captain.” Brad chuckled darkly, rolling his eyes.

“Good luck with that,” he said, lowering his voice as he leaned towards Deeks. “The new guy’s a real hard ass. Watch what you say around him.”

“Thanks for the warning. See you around, brother.”

Deeks finally got onto the elevator and let out a long breath, glancing down at the file that contained his fake documentation.

Both he and Sam were undercover to investigate the suspicious death of the station’s previous captain following reports of drug activity on campus. Working with the chief of police, Hetty had arranged for them to infiltrate the station to hopefully root out whoever was engaging in illegal activity

Sam arrived a week before Deeks as Captain Joseph Raynard. Deeks had no trouble believing that Sam was already running a tight ship. Aside from his natural tendencies, Raynard held a reputation for being a merciless stickler when it came to his officers.

Deeks on the other hand, had the joyless task of pretending to be a disgraced cop once again. Although the exact details were confidential, the story was he had screwed up during a mission, and been booted back to LAPD. Playing out this scenario hadn’t exactly been fun the first time around, but at least he didn’t have to lie to Kensi this time.

Fortunately he didn’t run into anyone else he knew on the way up to Sam’s office. The frosted class door was halfway open and Deeks gave a couple of quick raps before he walked in.

Sam sat at a medium sized desk that just barely accommodated his height and long legs, one arm balanced on the top as he focused on the laptop in front of him. After a second he glanced up, frowning at Deeks.

“Detective Deeks, I’ve been expecting you,” he said, not sounding pleased about it. Deeks wasn’t sure if he was in character or not. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Deeks drawled. “My morning run took a little longer than usual. My dog has a shy bladder.”

“Very amusing, Deeks. Close the door.” Sighing deeply, Deeks swung it shut and hooked his foot around one of the chair across from Sam’s desk. “What do you think you’re pulling?” Sam demanded in a low voice.

“Just being my usual charming self.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

“You don’t speak that way to your supervisor.”

“Really? I assume you checked for bugs, so no one’s listening in on our conversation,” Deeks said, giving Sam a look of disbelief.

“Yes, even behind closed doors,” Sam insisted. “If you mess up and someone hears you talking like that, it could raise suspicion.”

“Ok, looking past the implication that I’m likely to mess this up, let’s move onto your second point. Everybody knows I’m black sheep for LAPD. I meant, that’s the whole reason I’m here. Being “disrespectful” just reinforces that point.”

“Don’t push it, Deeks.

“Fine,” Deeks sighed, ruffling his hair. He saw Sam’s eyes follow the movement with a grimace. “But anybody I’ve worked with before are going to know something’s off. They know I’m a wildcard and hate to follow pointless rules.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll worry about that. You figure out how to get these guys to open up.”

“Yes, Sir.” Deeks smiled innocently at Sam and then muttered under his breath, “That would be a hell of a lot easier if I acted like myself.”

As he left Sam’s office, Deeks tried not to let bitterness fill him.

***

A/N: And is my norm, this will have a second part.

I made up a whole lot about the Central Community Police Station. Hopefully it really is a good distance away from Deeks’ former division and would have minimal interaction with NCIS.